#so please take this sketch for now 💕

[yakowo]

i forgot to share the doodle i made omw to the vacation trip 🫶

[gldrushh]

GUILTY AS SIN? | JK | PART 𝐈

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

→ Pairing brother in law!Jungkook × widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut

→ W.C 17. 32k

→ Warnings unrequited love :(, oc is in love with his older brother, early character death of the said older brother who is haunting the narrative, cute childhood sweethearts who are doomed by me, mentions of dealing with grief and acceptance, mention of cancer, a minor scene where harassment is attempted,emotionally troubled! oc, emotionally troubled and detached! jk, simp jk, pathetic man in love, he's so so lovesick, ceo! jk, protective jk, yearning, pining, loads of angst, fluff if you squint, breif yoongi mention, namjin yay!!,rich people party, mentions of anxiety,sexual tension,slow burnish,smut (omg everyone look away), kissing, unprotected sex (raw and deep, next question),dirty talking, oc is insecure,hickies,oral (f! Receiving), he cums in his pants,big dick jk, soft Dom Jungkook, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, praise, cuddles if you squint again

→ Playlist Guilty as sin, control, killing me softly with his song, do I wanna know?

→ A/N the idea of this one shot came to me at 1 am when I was supposed to be studying for a test that probably my future depends upon and after much much complementing I'm finally posting it. To me, its very experimental and I was just trying to explore my writing style and writing things that I haven't before, like smut 🫠 so please please bear that in mind!! I hope you enjoy reading and if you did please comment!! It makes my whole day 🥰💕💕

P.S: cross posted on wattpad.

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

It is a believed fact that it takes three to four short months to fall in love. 

For you, it took one summer. The summer spent watching him sketch galaxies in the dirt with a twig, summer spent learning the way his laughter sounded after stealing popsicles from the freezer, summer spent holding his hand as they made paper planes under the blazing sun. It was the kind of love that grew roots so deep, you couldn’t separate where he ended and you began.

That summer, you met Minho. The boy next door with a mind as wild as his curls and a heart so warm it seemed to shine blindingly bright. He showed you how to climb trees, told stories he'd crafted all by himself, convincing you that the universe could be held in the palm of your hand. He shared his world with you, and you fell in love with it.

You kissed his cheek on the porch of your house one late July evening, bold and brimming with the kind of confidence only childhood summers could bring. “Now you’re gonna have to marry me, Min Min,” you teased, hands behind your back, your toes curling against the wooden floorboards.

He blushed, a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, but his grin mirrored yours.

The porch of your house was a witness to many things. Your first steps, held your first scraped knees, your first dog and Minho's new brother; your new friend.

A boy of your age, younger than Minho had appeared from right behind him, his hands clutching onto Minho's flannel, his watchful eyes going everywhere all at once. The kind of boy who never spoke unless he had to, the kind who was more familiar with loss than comfort, lingering on the edges of things, unsure if he belonged.

Jungkook.

Now, Jeon Jungkook.

You and his brother had taken it upon themselves to bring him into your fold, turning your duo into a trio. With time, he laughed with you both, trusted you both, became one of you both.

The three of you were inseparable— in the backyard of your house, in elementary school, in high school. How could you not be? You had tied the promise in the form of handmade friendship bracelets around the wrist of both boys.

Even though what you wanted with minho was far from friendship. A bold dreamer, you always have been. But not so much when you turned sixteen. Sixteen; what a awkward age.

An age of overthinking haircuts, dreams, and the lives your peers are gonna live all at once. Visits to the school councilor are doubled. Relationships happen; Friends part.

But you only grew closer with Jungkook. He didn’t seemed interested in making a move on the timid, short haired girl who passed him notes in chemistry class, neither did he talk much about the future. When you asked him what he wanted to do, he’d shrug and say something like, “Whatever makes sense at the time.” He wasn’t aimless, exactly—just grounded in a way that made you think he didn’t feel the need to plan everything out.

Minho, though, was spiraling.

He now spent more time with the councilor that he spent with you both. Had this bitter look on his face every morning you saw him on the bus stop that will have you sharing a knowing look with Jungkook—Minho had been having a lot of fights with his dad, had been overthinking a lot more because the world seemed so much bigger than he had imagined.

Maybe for the eldest son and heir to a family that ran a company as old as the town itself, the world really was big. But to you, he was just a hopeful boy with all the colors in his eyes. The colors that you loved. The colors that didn't belong in a office, crunching numbers.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. At sixteen, nobody has the answers.

Seventeen is a different story. It's a starlight dream. It's you acing the college entrance test. It's Minho surfacing back. It's Minho kissing you on that very same porch, promising, “One day, we’ll have our own porch, and I’ll kiss you there every day.”

And he was one to keep his promises.

You married him at twenty-five, in crisp autumn. To your family and friends, it was "About time." To you, it was nothing short of a dream as you walked to promise forever to the man you love, a vision in white. It was nothing big, just a dreamy intimate affair with soft twinkling string lights. Something you both agreed on. Because you were content with what you had, overjoyed actually after picking out a quite cozy apartment for the both of you and landing a job as a humanities professor in a university that wasn't too far from the said apartment. Minho was too and while things weren't the same with his father now, he did what he loved. Ever the artist at heart.

It was like everything you ever wrote in your middle school diary, everything you wished for was now laid under your feet like a carpet unfolding.

You were given a good time before it started pulling away from your feet.

At first, it was subtle. A missed dinner here, a canceled hangout there. Then he told you both he’d taken up an opportunity abroad to manage the family business, something Minho had no interest in, just on the night of your wedding after he had fulfilled his role of the groom's best man, watched you walk down the aisle.

You hadn’t seen the decision coming—not that night, not like this—but you couldn’t deny it either. Jungkook had seemed restless here, especially after finishing college.Conversations with him in those days had been brief, distracted, his eyes darting to the distance even as he smiled at you. It felt as you were trying to talk to the Jungkook who had appeared on your porch the first time. He hadn’t asked for understanding, and you hadn’t known how to offer it. His reasons were vague, more like placeholders for something unsaid. And so he left, quietly, with little fanfare, and though Minho seemed sad to see him go, you could tell he understood.

“It’s good for him,” Minho had said. “He deserves something for himself.”

Relationship happened; Friends parted.

You weren't sure if you understood. While you agreed with Minho, you couldn’t help but feel the loss of a friend now that his calls became less frequent until they stopped altogether. One day, he was simply gone, leaving behind only the memory of the boy who had once trusted you with his rare, precious smiles.

"You’d laugh if you saw me right now. I tried to fix the leaky sink in the kitchen, and now the entire floor is flooded. Minho’s being no help—just standing there laughing."

"Hey, stranger. Our anniversary is next weekend. We’re just doing a small dinner. You should come. Seriously, koo, don’t make me guilt-trip you."

"Saved you a slice of cake, but Minho ate it. You’d better show up next year, or I’ll stop saving you anything."

"Hey, Koo. Just checking in. Hope you're healthy and happy. Would love to hear from you"

You'd text him timely, in hopes that he still knows how to use a phone. But apparently, not.

Still, you had Minho. Your husband, your best friend.

Until you didn't.

Until the carpet was at last, snatched right down from your feet.

The diagnosis came in the spring. It started with a faint weakness in his voice. A shortness of breath he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just tired,” he’d say, smiling that same easy smile. But tired turned into tests. Tests turned into results. And results turned into a diagnosis that was oh so cruel.

Leukemia. Early stages. Aggressive.

The months that followed were a blur of hospital visits, treatments, and quiet nights where you held him as he cried. You tried to be strong, for him, for both of you. Told him what the doctor in the sterile white office will tell you. "They've caught it early so we're not at a great risk here." You'd reassure him. "You have yet to get away from me, min min." You'd try making him laugh but he had always been better at that.

Now, suddenly he wasn't. The next two years, your life was just the slow, agonizing process of watching the man you loved fade away, losing every bit of his lively soul to the cancer, holding his hand when he was too weak to hold yours back.

Perhaps it wasn't only Minho who was chipping away. It was you too.

You turned into the woman who knew exactly how to track medication schedules, who could list every side effect of his treatment in order of severity, who spoke with doctors as if reciting a memorized script. You learned how to bite back the frustration when he snapped at you because he was in pain, and how to smile when all you wanted was to scream at the unfairness of it all.

You started to measure time not in days or months but in cycles of chemotherapy, in percentages of remission and relapse. Life was divided into hours spent in sterile hospital rooms, waiting for results that were never as hopeful as you needed them to be, and hours spent at home trying to pretend those results didn’t exist.

You had stopped dreaming. And minho had stopped painting.

Grief doesn’t wait for death— or so you've realized as you often found yourself grieving the life you had built together, the one you knew would never be the same. You grieved the sound of his laugh, which became quieter as the months passed. You grieved the way he used to tease you about your love for terrible reality shows, You grieved the mornings spent tangled together, talking about everything and nothing.

By the time the end came, you had already lost so much of him that you thought you might be prepared.

You weren’t.

And then he was gone.

With an, "I'm sorry. I love you." He was gone.

The house was too quiet without him, the days too long. You withdrew, not just from the world but from yourself, letting grief shape the edges of your existence.

The world moved on, even if you didn’t. They tell you how long it takes to fall in love but not how long it takes to get over it.

2 years, 240 days. And you're still counting.

Time passed in pieces—fractured and unrelenting.

Your family, Minho’s family, even well-meaning friends—none of them knew what to do with the mess you’d become, so they did what people often did. They tried to fix it. To fix you.

Blind dates were their answer, little nudges toward what they called healing. The word had been said so many times it began to lose its meaning. Healing. As if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, so you let them dress you up, hand you phone numbers, and convince you that this—whatever this was—was what you needed.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Because as the man sat in front of you in the dimly lit bar continued to talk about how his ex couldn't handle his success, the trials of being a man with ambition, you really couldn't even bother to pretend you were interested. He was nice enough—tall, well dressed (consdering the dingy bar) with a confident smile but your thoughts kept drifting, as they often did.

2 years, 240 days since Minho had died.

2 years, 240 days of waking up alone in your bed, his side untouched.

2 years, 240 days of trying to find your way back to the woman you used to be.

“Hey,” the man interrupted your thoughts, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I feel like I’m talking too much. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting. “I paint. It’s... therapeutic.”

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You pulled back instinctively, your stool scraping against the floor. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, but his tone was tighter now. He leaned back, shrugging as if trying to dismiss the moment. “You know, you should loosen up a little. You’ll never find anyone if you keep acting like you’re still married.”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as you struggled to process the audacity of his statement. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring the warning in your tone, “you should give people a chance. I mean, you’re here, right?” He smirked and stood, coming around the table. “Let me take you home. We can—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, rising to your feet.

But he didn’t listen. His hand reached for your arm, his grip firm.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he was gone.

The man stumbled backward, a hand jerking him by the collar. The force was so swift, so unexpected, that it took you a moment to register what had happened.

And then you saw him.

“..Jungkook?” The name caught in your throat as you turned.

You took in the man standing before you, taller and broader than you remembered, the years etched into the sharp lines of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. His dark eyes were fixed on the man who had dared to touch you, glinting coldly.

His voice was low, dangerous. “She said stop. I suggest you listen.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

You weren’t in a dingy bar anymore.

You were standing at the edge of a memory—the first time you’d ever seen Jungkook, the quiet boy who clung to Minho’s shadow.

And the last.

The last time you’d seen him, a looming figure in an ocean of black suits. A barely recognizable shadow among the mourners at your husband's funeral.

Now, standing before you, he was real, tangible—and so was the flood of emotions crashing over you.

It was so loud, you could barely hear as the the man stammered out an excuse, something about a misunderstanding.

“Leave.” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut and bring you back to the moment.

The man hesitated, his mouth opening as though he wanted to argue, but one glance at Jungkook’s expression and he decided against it. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, muttering something under his breath that neither of you caught.

Silence followed.

Only then did you felt his gaze on you. His presence was larger than life, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of how much had changed. How much he had changed. You hadn’t registered that at the funeral. Now, you didn't know what to say, you could hardly manage to look at him. While he wasn't Minho's real brother, didn't share any resemblance with him, it still hurt you, sucked you back into those times when it was the three of you, when it wasn't.

He too didn't reply right away, his gaze searching your face, as though he was also trying to piece together the version of you he remembered with the one standing before him now. When it landed on the arm you were clutching, the arm that dipshit had grabbed, you saw his eyes glint again.

"Did he hurt you?" It sounded more like a demand rather than a question but you couldn't even deciper the words, too focused on how his boyish tone had turned sharper, harder.

"W-What?" You fumble out like a fool.

"Did he hurt you, y/n?" This time, you heard him.

Letting your hand fall, embarrassed, you shook your head, finally managing to utter something sensible out. “No—yeah. I’m fine.”

He glanced back at the door that man had fled from before looking back at you. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and quiet.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

You blinked. “My phone?” You don't remember getting a call from anyone but then you realize your battery had died down as you looked down to see your dead device laying flat. "Oh. I didn't realis—"

“Mom said you’d been gone a while. Told me where you were.” He interrupted. There was an edge to his voice now, faint but undeniable.

You feel more embarrassed now that you know it's because of your mother in law's anxious nature that he is here. Your fingers brushed against the strap of your purse, desperate for something to do, something to hold onto as he speaks again. "Are you ready to leave?"

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “I can get a cab.”

His brows furrowed, just slightly, and you noticed for the first time the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s late,” he said simply.

"So?”

“So,” he echoed, his tone calm but unyielding, “I’ll take you.”

You hesitated, your pride and your exhaustion warring within you. Finally, you exhaled out in defeat, reaching for your coat. It's just a thirty minute ride. You reassured yourself. It'll be fine.

The cool night air wrapped around you and so did your coat as you stepped outside, and the streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked toward his car. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements deliberate, and waited for you to slide in before closing it softly behind you.

The drive started in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of old friends, the kind that felt easy and safe. This was different—fraught, taut, like a thread stretched too tight.

You stole a glance at him as he started the engine, too aware of the small space you were packed in with him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said finally, your statement sounding more accusatory that you or he would have liked.

“Just for a little while,” he replied, his tone ofcourse, unfazed. “Business.”

Buisness. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the word. If someone could look like that word, you thought, it'd be the man in the fine tailored suit with eyes fixed on the road ahead and a rolex that didn't look any more cheaper than the car he was driving and you wondered.

Wondered if the lines of his palms—the callouses from late-night basketball games, the way they had felt solid and familiar when he held yours to steady you on the wobbly bike Minho had convinced you to ride—had changed too.

Had they turned forigen, unyielding? Had time eroded their familiarity?

When the car slowed, you glanced out the window, expecting to see the acquinated sight of your apartment building. But instead, the streetlights gave way to a quieter, darker road. You frowned, turning to him.

“This isn’t the way to my place.”

“I know,” he said simply, not bothering to elaborate. "You're coming with me."

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening as unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Jungkook,” you started, the word heavy with protest.

"Y/N." He ends, sparing you a glance that has you sinking back into your seat, arms folded across your chest like a petulant child that you could swear made his lips twitch at the corner, you could swear you saw your old friend who had grown a sassy tounge at the age of fourteen that'd earn smacks at the head from his older brother for a fleeting cruel second there. But that was it. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, summoning the return of the silence that felt like its own living thing.

The house was still the same.

That was the first thing you noticed as the car slowed down in front of the building that loomed at the end of the road like a memory waiting to consume you.

The overhead lights still flickered faintly, casting shadows across the steps where you and Minho had once sat, daring each other to stay outside until the stars disappeared. Even the smell was the same—faintly woody, with the comforting hint of whatever candle Jungkook’s mom always lit in the hallway.

You hesitated in the doorway, the memories rushing in too fast, too loud. It's not like you haven't been here in ages but since the year you celebrated your first marriage anniversary with Minho here, it felt like you have lived a thousand lives.

Lives that haunted you still, made you randomly pause in the grocery aisle and now before this house until you felt Jungkook’s presence press behind you as if silently urging you on.

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of your heels that have been as much as pain as the man you had been on a date with. The floor creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped inside, the sound jarring. The same hardwood floors, polished to a faint sheen. The same floral wallpaper lining the hallway. The same photo frames arranged along the wall—a collection of childhoods captured and frozen in time.

But as you glanced toward the corner of the living room where the three of you used to pile up pillows and blankets for makeshift forts. The corner was bare now, save for an old armchair, but in your mind, you saw it vividly: Minho’s determined grin as he shuffled the pillows, Jungkook, always following the lead but never quite competing for it. You would snuggle a pillow to your lap, nestled between the two brothers, peeking from behind your fingers and giggling at the the way Minho’s face would light up in triumph when he won another round of rock-paper-scissors.

A type of smugness that came from knowing he’d get to flick Jungkook’s forehead next. But your smile would fade as soon as you would realize that it's your turn next. “Wait, wait!” you’d plead, wide-eyed, deploying the best puppy-dog look you could muster. It was the same look that had, on occasion, earned you extra TV time with your dad. Jungkook would glance at you and chuckle. Relent like your father would and sheild your forehead with his palm that'd have Minho pouting. "Hey! That's not how you do it!"

"Y/N?" A well recognized voice pulled you back to the where you were supposed to be, back from the fort of pillows and blankets.

You turned around and instantly found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug. You managed a small smile, letting your arms wrap around the warm frame of your mother in law, the scent of her jasmine oil and apprehensive energy pulling you in. "Mom." You greeted back.

Mrs Jeon hadn't always been this.. overbearing. Though after the passing of your husband, she had teamed up with your mother and been on a determined mission to make sure you are well and on a road to healing.

The next few minutes, she did what she had been doing best—fussed over you, asking how you’d been, if you’d eaten, if you were warm enough. In that time being, Jungkook had resigned to wherever his room was.

You planned to do the same, especially now that you could see on her face how she is on the brink of asking about the disaster tonight. You showed some obvious sign of weariness, in hopes she'd let it go for the night and tell you where you're supposed to go to bed for.

"Third on the left, my dear. And I'm gonna need you to stay for breakfast, okay?" You wondered if stubbornness was a running streak in this family.

Hours later, sleep had yet to come.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint grooves in the plaster as if they could somehow lull you into rest. The trick didn't work. It hadn’t worked in your own apartment either—the one you and Minho had picked out together, picked the colors of the walls together, and argued over where the bookshelf should be. Yet, it was still your space. You could control how you faced the memories there, pacing them, deciding when and how to confront them.

There, at least, you’d managed four or five hours of sleep on a good night. Here? In this house that held so much of him, so much of them, you weren’t sure you’d manage even one.

The room you were led to was neat and welcoming, the kind of space that had been carefully prepared for guests. But there was no comfort to be found in the knowledge that two doors down lay Minho’s childhood room, untouched, a shrine to a boy who grew up into the man you loved and lost.

At some point, you gave up.

Sliding out of bed, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you padded quietly downstairs. The house was silent as you made your way downstairs, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound, the indistinct glow from the kitchen spilling into the dimness. You didn’t expect to find anyone there, but as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Jungkook stood by the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his other resting on the marble surface. His jacket was gone, abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Tattoos.

They sprawled across his skin, intricate designs etched into muscle and sinew, that you didn't think you'd ever see on him.

Perhaps you thought wrong. Perhaps you never knew. Never knew him.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours that looked just as caught off guard as yours did. For a moment, you didn't feel comfortable moving from your spot until he eventually spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen. “Needed some water.” You said and opened a cabinet, finding the glasses exactly where you remembered, and filled one with water.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his presence impossible to ignore. Funny, how he always preferred to blend in the background as a child, now his mere cologne—earthy and warm—demanded attention, filled the room before he had even entered.

“Do you… do you drink often now?” you asked hesitantly, glancing over your shoulder, at the way his fingers curled around the glass, the tattoos on his hand shifting as he tilted it.

“Sometimes.” he said, his tone vague.

If things were anything like before between you two or anything like before at all, maybe you'd have pushed further, asked him if this was growing to be a unhealthy habit.

Now, it didn’t seem right when there was an ocean between you—a chasm of time. Felt intrusive. And you know it would only sound hypocritical from your mouth—talking about unhealthy mechanisms. Hah.

You ended up only nodding and put the washed glass back so you could go back to counting the grooves in the plaster. Resume your restless attempt at sleep.

But Jungkook spoke again.

"How long have you been going on.." He started suddenly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as he spoke. "These dates?"

You blinked at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh—for a while now, I guess?"

“Are you willing, or are they forcing you?”

The question, the way he asked it—sharp, direct—left you off balance. So did the way he was looking at you now, his eyes no longer holding the casualty as they once did when he had the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I—” You faltered. “They just want to help. They think it’s time.”

“And what do you want?”

To go back to your room. To ask him what did it even matter to him, after all this time.

But what came out was forthright honesty. “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

He stepped closer, his feet padding softly against the kitchen floor—a contrast to his rigid frame that now towered just close enough. Close enough to see how his chest rose and fell with every breath. Close enough to see how his eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to do anything for them or anyone,” he said, his voice soft but no less rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to deflect, to do something, but his gaze held you in place, tracing down from the dark circles that weighted your eyes to your parted lips. All you could feel was his gaze burning on you and hear your own pulse in your ears.

“Jungkook…” His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

He lingered for a beat longer, his eyes searching yours, then he stepped back, his jaw just as tight. “Get some rest.” He clipped out before he turned and walked away, leaving you alone again.

You didn't got any sleep that night.

8:00'o clock. The time's a etched number in your brain ever since you started your job at the university.

It's a routine that needs no alarm clock. It's a number you keep waiting for as you blink at the time passing. And you're more than eager when the morning comes softly along with smaller needle stopping at 8, sunlight slipping through the curtains in streaks too gentle to match the weight in your chest.

With Minho, you were the one to wake up first but here you find that the house was awake before you.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room. Breakfast was warm and lively, much like your mother in law. She greeted you with a brightness that almost made you feel guilty for your somber disposition.

“Good morning!” she said with a smile that could have been plucked from a painting. Reaching for a plate of toast, setting it down in front of the empty seat beside her.

“Good morning.” you murmured, sliding into a chair.

Across the table, your father in law sat at his usual spot, his attention fixed on his phone, only looking up to give you a nod of acknowledgment. You had never fully understood him, not as Minho’s father, not as a man.

Perhaps, It had always been because of the sore spot between him and your husband, the way his father disapproved of his wishes—choosing art over business, passion over practicality. You remembered the arguments you thought would never hear after the age of sixteen, the way Minho would come home, his face tight with frustration. “He doesn’t get it,” he’d say. “He never will.” You saw the way it wore on him, the way he carried the weight of his father’s disapproval like it was stitched into his very skin.

Even now, as you sat across from him, you wondered if he ever regretted it—if he ever wished he had spoken softer, loved louder. But his face was as impassive as ever, his thoughts a mystery.

“Jungkook left early this morning,” his mother said, breaking the silence. “Something about a meeting downtown.”

You nodded, relief washing over you in a way that felt almost shameful. You hadn’t realized how much you were dreading seeing him until you knew you wouldn’t have to.

“Busy as always,” you said lightly, reaching for your coffee.

The conversation drifted into familiar topics—neighbors, extended family, stories you half-listened to with polite nods. The table felt both too full and too empty, the gazes of all the people that sat there never straying to the right one in the left corner, just right beside yours.

The older woman turned to you, her tone bright with enthusiasm.

“There’s a party this weekend,” she said, her smile widening. “Just a small gathering with some friends and business partners. It would be lovely if you came with us.”

The suggestion made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“It’ll be good for you,” she interrupted gently, her gaze soft but insistent. “Everyone would love to see you.”

You hesitated, the thought of mingling with people, of putting on a brave face for strangers already making you want to go back to bed. “I’m not sure I’d be good company,” You glanced towards your father in law, half-hoping he might say something to discourage the idea, but he couldn't be any less bothered.

“Nonsense!” she pressed. “You don’t even have to stay long. But it would mean so much to us.”

There was no malice in her persistence, no attempt to guilt you, just a genuine desire to include you in their lives. You couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Wonderful. Jungkook will pick you up and bring you there. That way, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

You froze, cup midway to your mouth. "There's no need for that, mom."

"Oh hush." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll be coming from the office, so it’s no trouble.”

You nodded slowly, your appetite not too great or you just wanted to get out of here.

8'30. You glanced at the rose gold wrist watch, your first anniversary gift. Your first class is due in an hour, the perfect excuse wrapped around your wrist which you use to excuse yourself from the suffocating walls that always feel like they are closing in on you.

You have come to prefer the morning buzz of the university more—the hum of young adults chatting in the hallways, the scrape of chairs against tiled floors.It was a rhythm you found comforting, predictable in its own way. Here, you were just a professor, the one who explained history and philosophy with hands that only shook sometimes.

The teenage year you would have thought predictable as boring but you— a woman gone through a dubious sets of events found a fellow feeling in it.

Found the task of grading thesis, making power point presentation better than you would have ever imagined.

But Gods, your students need to realize that they can't dump about their toxic ex in every essay. A woman can only take so much.

You were sorting through the said papers in your office when the door creaked open, and a woman peeked her head in, the light from the outside catching in her curly locks.

“You busy?” she asked, her voice light and familiar.

You looked up to see Mira, the economics professor and one of your closest colleagues, walking toward you with her usual warm smile. Mira was more than just a coworker though—being practically family, the wife of Minho’s dark haired cousin who didn’t talk much in family gatherings, and over the years, she had become a friend you could rely on and share lunch with.

“Not for you,” you said, smiling as you waved her in.

She dropped into the chair across from you, setting her bag on the floor. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Was it that obvious?

“I didn’t,” you admitted, sighing softly. “I stayed at the Jeons’ last night.”

Her eyebrows rose, but there was something in her eyes—a softness, an understanding—that made you look away for a second. “How’d that go?”

You hesitated, picking at the edge of a notebook on your desk. “It was… fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Jungkook’s back,” you said, and her eyes widened slightly, the topic seeming to catch her attention.

“Really? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Neither did I, until yesterday.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Just for a while, though. Business stuff, y'know?”

Mira tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And how’s that going?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on you, curious. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?"

“Yeah,” you said slowly. "It's fine, I suppose. We didn't talk much."

“Hmm.” Mira hummed thoughtfully as if tasting the question she was gonna ask on her tounge. “Are you okay with him being back?”

Were you okay with him behind back? Okay with him stepping in your vicinity after years of acting like you were not even family, let alone a friend?

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “It’s strange seeing him again after all this time. But he’s been… kind. Quiet, mostly.”

Mira didn’t press further, but there was something in her expression that made you uneasy, as if she knew something you didn’t.

You cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “There’s a party this weekend. His mom invited me. Please tell me you’re going.”

Mira winced, her smile apologetic. “Date night with the husband. Non-negotiable.”

"Oh." You tried not to show the dejection on your face but it was there. "Lucky you."

She studied you for a moment, her expression gentle. “Are you okay with going?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything for them. Not if you’re not ready.”

If only he understood how much easier it was to do things for others than to face yourself.

“Y/N…” Her voice softened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can text me. I’ll make up some excuse to get you out of there.”

You smiled, grateful for her before bidding bye to her for her next class and focusing back on the pending work spread across your desk while simultaneously going through your closet in your mind.

Minho had always said red made the brown of your eyes excel more.

And you have really tried to believe it, looking at yourself from above your shoulder, from the side of your arm in the mirror but perhaps it's not only this red, off shoulder dress that's not doing your eyes justice. It's every color you have once known, once loved.

It's like, it's you that's not doing them justice.

As you stared into the mirror, your eyes flitting from one detail to the next—the slightly uneven tuck of fabric, the exposed skin of your collarbone—it felt wrong.

The little things were missing—his hands fixing the clasp of your necklace, his voice telling you not to overthink it, that you looked beautiful. That it didn’t matter what you wore, because it was you who wore it.

But he wasn’t here.

With a sigh, you adjusted the necklace you had chosen yourself, a simple silver chain that rested delicately against your collarbone. The mirror wasn’t forgiving, but you looked anyway, searching for something familiar in your own reflection. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, told yourself this was just another party, and dodged the doubts of this being a mistake.

The knock at your door came too soon, sharp and punctual, like everything Jungkook had become.

You felt your stomach clench, nerves twisting with something else you couldn’t name. Smoothing your dress one last time, you crossed the small space of your apartment, pausing just before the door.

When you opened it, Jungkook was standing right before you.

He had stood on the edge of cliffs where oceans met skies too, in countless countries at that, walked through streets that droned with history. Scrawled through the wonders of the world—the kind that made poets immortalize them in verse—but nothing—nothing—would ever measure up to this.

To you.

You, standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the hall light, your hair falling in waves that he had memorized long ago.

His chest tightened, the memory of another doorway bleeding into the moment as gaily as if it had just happened. He had been in the room meant for waiting, where your parents had sat moments before, your mother sniffling into a tissue, your father pacing in his polished shoes. Now it had been his turn.

The thought alone of being the second person to see you before you walked away from him for good had made his tie that he had been trying to get the hang off felt too stressed around his neck, his palms clammy despite the air conditioning. He rubbed them on his pants, glancing at the small clock on the mantle every few seconds. The minutes dragged, each one seemed longer than the other.

What would you look like?

The thought ran circles in his mind, only for a creak of the door to startle him back.

Footsteps had echoed in the quiet, minimizing the distance until he could practically feel the nervous energy of a bride bounce against his. "Okay. You can turn around now." He had heard you speak, had seen the skittish smile on your face before he even turned around.

And when he did, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

The dress hugged you like it had been designed with only you in mind, its soft fabric flowing as if in defiance of gravity. Your veil cascaded behind you, catching the light, and your smile was small, almost shy, as you looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Well?” you prompted, turning slightly, your hands brushing the fabric at your sides. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought the universe was wicked for allowing him to witness this and still expect him to let you go.

He had swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady when he finally said, “You look—” His tongue had faltered over every adjective that came to mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Breathtaking felt like a cliché. “Perfect.”

You—Beautiful, Devastatingly, so.

You—who weren’t his to look at this way.

He feels his breath catch, his hands clenching at his sides to keep himself from reaching for you.

Because while that version of you had been a dream, this version—worn, weathered, but still so unmistakably you—was real. And the reality of you had always been what he wanted most.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have agreed to pick you up, shouldn’t have stepped into this space, should have kept the distance he had spent years bridging.

But he has always found himself hopeless and running back to wherever you were concerned, hopeless in a way that had him studying for a test he didn’t even have to keep you company or show up.. here. Content to be near you in whatever capacity he could. He told himself it was enough. That it would be enough to watch you from the sidelines, to sit across from you at family dinners.

It wasn’t.

Because Jungkook wasn't a virtuous man. He never had been.

Virtue belonged to his brother—the one who could weave dreams out of thin air, who saw the world in colors Jungkook had never learned to name. His brother—Minho—who had been the light, the warmth that people, he gravitated toward. He had admired Minho, even envied him, resented him in ways he never admitted aloud and kept it in shadows.

When Minho died, the shadow became a man. And that man had spent years running.

Running into work, into unfamiliar cities, into the kind of purpose that left no room for thought. No room for the times when everything was right, when he tasted family and friendship for the first time ever, no room for the last time he tasted it when you walked down the aisle to his brother looking at him like he was the sun and how it burned, how he had burned with nails biting into his palms.

And only men with no integrity burn. Men who are cowards, restless, afraid of thier own greed try to run, in hopes that the distance would save them.

But distance didn’t save men like Jungkook.

Because here he was again, standing before you, the fire still smoldering.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice pulling him back, creating a doubt in his belief.

“Hi,” he replied, his own tounge feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re early,” you said, your tone carefully light.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks in an attempt to keep them to themselves. “Traffic was lighter than I expected. Are you ready to leave?"

You nodded and he stepped back, revealing his sleek Mercedes benz parked just right in front. He let you walk before him, watching how your movements were hesitant, as if the ground beneath your feet wasn’t entirely steady. He wanted to ask you if you were okay. He wanted to tell you it was okay if you weren't.

He settled for opening the car door for you.

“Thanks for this,” you said, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

His grip tightened against the leather of the steering wheel with a force that made his knuckles ache. There was a rancorous way that you spoke to him, carefully restrained, that he couldn't even blame you for.

"It's not." He gritted out. "It's not a problem."

He had earned every inch of this gap between you, had spent years building it brick by brick, mile by mile. He's all to blame for. For carving the space between you with every ignored call, every excuse he made to avoid family dinners where you’d inevitably be.

For the leaving the wreckage in his wake—yours, his, theirs.

It wasn’t fair to hate the consequences of his own choices.

But hell, if he didn't outright loathed feeling like he was staring at a wall of frosted glass when he looked at you—where he could see the outline of you, but the details were blurred, distant. Like he had lost the privilge of knowing you from one glance, lost the privilge of having you speak up to him whenever you wanted, call him out, intoxicate him with your laughter that lightened up a room he wasn't even aware was dark. Found it fucking unbearable.

So much that he felt relief washing over him when the venue of the gathering came in view. A grand mansion, framed by manicured gardens and sprawling oaks that seemed to whisper old secrets to one another. It had a timeless elegance that made you wonder how many lives it had seen pass through its doors.

Small gathering, she said. You scoffed internally at rich people and their definition of small.

“Nice place,” you murmured as you walked beside him, your steps careful on the stone path after the car was eased into a parking spot.

“It’s the Kim's family home,” Jungkook said. You nodded, though the name didn’t spark much recognition. The Kims had been mentioned here and there at family dinners—names dropped in passing between sips of wine and shared laughter. You had barely paid attention then, too busy suppressing laughs at the jokes that Minho whispered near.

The front doors were open, the faint scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne wafting out to greet you. Inside, the space was as opulent as expected—high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished floors that gleamed under the soft light, and clusters of well-dressed guests milling about with drinks in hand.

A tall man stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline making him impossible to miss. Beside him, another man stood with a softer air, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into the first man’s side.

The taller of the two men turned, his expression lighting up as he spotted Jungkook. “There he is,” He said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly.

"Hyung." Jungkook softened, clasping hands in a firm shake before pulling each other into a brief hug, the kind that spoke of collaboration and respect.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse as you wondered whether to step back and leave him to his conversation or stay and risk being out of place.Would it be rude if you chose the former?

You were saved from your uncertainty when the two of them pulled away from Jungkook and took you in, a gleam of recognition passing through their face. Recognition, shock, then pity. You know how it went.

“You must be Y/N,” the taller one said, his gaze shifting to you with a warm smile.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the direct attention. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon ” he said, offering his hand. “And this is Seokjin, my partner.” You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before taking the hand of the charming one in the beige suit. “It’s nice to meet you, both. This is a beautiful venue.” You assume that they're the hosts of the party. The Kims that this house belonged to.

“Thank my father for that,” Namjoon said with a chuckle. “Sixty years old and still insists on hosting the most extravagant parties. He’d never let me live it down if I didn’t pull out all the stops.”

“Extravagant is an understatement,” Seokjin chimed in, his tone playful as he glanced at Namjoon. “I’m pretty sure half the flowers in the city ended up here.”

You smiled again, but it faltered when Seokjin's expression changed in a beat.

“We’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said gently, his gaze dipping briefly to Jungkook before meeting yours again.

You tilted your head, curiosity flashing across your face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Namjoon assured you. “Your family is well-regarded, and we-we're sorry about Minho. He was brilliant in every sense of the world. We can't even imagin—"

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying really hard to not let the tightening of your throat strain your voice. “He was.”

Jungkook watched as your smile faltered, just slightly, at the mention of Minho. He decided to steer the conversation away but you recovered quickly, offering a polite nod and beat him to it.

There was a brief, loaded pause before you glanced at Jungkook. “I should find mom. She asked me to join her earlier.”

"Yeah, right.” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened again when he looked at you.

You walked by Jungkook, brushing close enough that your shoulder brushed against his chest, the faintest hint of your vanilla perfume that was so maddeningly you lingered in the air. He tensed, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers twitched at his sides, an almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough.

Subtle as he tried to be, he caught himself leaning slightly, his chest rising with a quiet inhale as though he could take the ghost of your scent and keep it for himself.

"Not as subtle as you think." Seokjin snickered by his boyfriend's side who also raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing and somewhat giving away his discomfort. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Shit.

Jungkook straightened, his jaw clenching as he avoided their eyes, fixing the collar of his shirt hoping they won't catch on the heat creeping up on his neck too. “Don’t.” he said quietly, his tone low and edged with warning.

"Maybe you don't sniff her like a dog in public? Maybe you have some decorum?" Seokjin judged, proud and loud.

"I have plenty, hyung." The younger male side eyed the older one, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears already crimson red like he was a boy caught watching porn for the very first time.

Namjoon sighed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him be, honey.”

But the look he gave Jungkook was far from dismissive. It was the kind of look that saw too much, that peeled back layers Jungkook wasn’t ready to confront. Gods, he needed new friends.

He turned his attention back to the crowd where you disappeared.

The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses followed you as you weaved through the grand hall, your eyes scanning for your mother-in-law’s familiar figure. The air in the mansion was heavier than it had been when you arrived, the brush of silk against silk, the way every movement seemed calculated, observed, and weighed.

You navigated through the crowd like a ghost in a gallery, your steps measured and slow, eyes flicking to the floor more than once to avoid the speculative stares. With rich circles came dirty gossip—whispered words disguised as laughter, false smiles that hid daggers. You’d learned to let them roll off your back, like rain on stone.

The Jeon matriarch had mentioned being near the back, closer to where the banquet tables were set. You followed the direction she’d gestured toward earlier, passing servers who moved seamlessly with trays of sparkling champagne.

Halfway through the journey, your steps faltered as your gaze landed on the centerpiece of one table—a chocolate fountain. Warm, rich, and cascading like liquid satin, it stood surrounded by an array of treats. Strawberries gleamed like rubies in the low light, their surfaces polished and inviting.

You hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to berate you for indulging in something so ordinary, but eventually, you plucked a strawberry and dipped it into the cascading chocolate.

You let the sweetness settle on your tongue, closing your eyes for a brief moment. For the first time all evening, you found this place somewhat tolerable.

Free food always making things better.

“Excuse me, miss.” a small voice piped up beside you, tugging on the flowy end of your dress.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood by your side, his wide eyes flicking between you and the fountain. He looked as if he had stepped out of a luxury children’s catalog, his little suit tailored perfectly, his bow tie slightly askew. “Can you grab one for me? I’m not allowed to reach it by myself.” he asked, pointing at the fountain. His voice was polite, but there was a hopeful edge to it, as if he wasn’t used to asking for things twice.

“Of course, love.” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. You picked another strawberry, dipping it with care before crouching slightly to hand it to him. "There you go."

“Thank you!” he chirped, grinning immediate and radiant, the kind that softened the edges of a hard day.

"What's your name?" You asked him, crouching down to his level.

“Do-yun!” came a sharp voice, the kind that turned your stomach before your brain even processed it.

Who you assumed was the boy's mother stepped forward, her elegance severe, her lips painted in a red that matched the strawberries. She took her son’s hand but not before her eyes raked over you, head to toe, with an expression that left no room for interpretation.

"What did I tell you about bothering strangers?” she scolded do-yun who stared at the skewer in his hand apologetically.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” you said gently, straightening up and having the woman’s eyes flicker to you again, assessing.

“He just wanted a treat.”

Her eyes flicked to the chocolate fountain, then back to you, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “how kind of you.”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of gratitude. Just a faintly dismissive air. And with that, she turned, her child in tow, leaving you with the faint scent of something floral and the taste of bitterness on your tongue.

You'd learned better than to expect warmth from people bound by history.

You'd learned not to mind it. To overlook it. To not pay attention to them at all.

"That's her, isn't she?"

“Such a shame, losing her husband so young.”

“Yes, but you know, they weren’t exactly power players, were they? He was an artist, wasn’t he?”

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, acrid and inescapable.

A laugh, soft and cruel. “I suppose she’s lucky the Jeons still keep her close. Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.”

You stopped in your tracks. The sharp sting of their voices cut through the party’s hum, louder than the music, louder than your own heartbeat.

You could feel your palms start to get sweaty, eyes suddenly unable to meet anyone's.

Breathe. You reminded yourself.

One: Find your breath.

Two: Focus on something neutral—the fountain, the floor, the chandelier above.

Three: Remind yourself: They don’t know you. Their words are weightless.

But weightless wasn’t the right word.

“Though, you’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly… widow-appropriate, is it?”

You tried to focus on your numbers but you lost it.

You turned, your fists clenched, your lips thinned, the polite demeanor cracking away from your face under the weight of your frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Was there something you wanted to say to my face?”

The women froze, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, a younger woman with a nervous smile, tried to backpedal. “Oh, no, we didn’t mean—”

“Because if you have an issue with me or my dress, feel free to say it outright,” you continued, your voice clear despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. “I’d hate for you to waste any more time whispering behind my back.”

The group exchanged glances, communicating in a language of their own, you couldn’t care less about. Atleast not in this moment.

“We didn’t mean to offend,” one of them muttered, her tone brittle.

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could I possibly take offense to strangers dissecting my life as if it’s some dinner party entertainment?”

Stupid old hags with no life of their own!

You kept that to yourself.

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

The chandeliers above blurred as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

You weren’t looking for anything specific—just distance, just air that wasn’t thick with judgment and whispers. A bathroom, maybe, though you weren’t going to ask for directions not when your voice felt like it would crack the moment you opened your mouth.

People brushed past you, their scents of expensive perfumes swirling in the air, their muted voices blending into a hum you couldn’t quite focus on. One or two bumped into your shoulder, but you didn’t apologize, didn’t bother looking back.

You just needed to get away—you just needed out of here.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t finished testing you, a firm hand of another one of a frame you jerked into, closed around your wrist, halting your momentum.

You looked up, brows scrunched, eyes glossy and mouth parting, ready to snap but then you were met with a amicable pair of dark eyes.

A crease of his own wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at you. "Is something wrong?" He asked and you almost wanted to laugh mockingly.

Instead, you did what you initially wanted to do. Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, tounge poking his cheek, grip on your hand loosening but not releasing entirely. "What's wrong, y/n?"

“I said, let me go,” you repeated, your voice firm, frangible at the edges before you pulled your hand away from him and pushed past to walk away without another word.

The next random hallway you stumbled into was quieter, emptier, and for that, you were grateful, stretched ahead like an endless corridor of polished wood and muted gold accents. The noise of the party faded into the background, muffled by the thick walls and heavy doors.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to roam around mindlessly any further. This should be good enough, you told yourself and leaned against one of the walls, your forehead pressing against the cool surface as you tried to breathe through the wave of vehemence emotions that crashed through you.

One: Inhale.

Two: Exhale.

Three: Forget the words they said. Forget them.

But they echoed, persistent and savage, circling in your mind like vultures.

Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.

You’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly widow-appropriate, is it?

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your hands clutching at your dress as if the fabric could somehow hold you together. But nothing could, nothing had. You had tried and tried and tried.. and fuck you didn't wanted to do it anymore.

Turning around, your head tipped back against the wall, the ceiling swimming in and out of focus as your vision blurred.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You should have stayed home, buried yourself in the comfort of your quiet apartment where no one whispered behind your back or looked at you with pity thinly disguised as deference.

Why did they care? Why did it matter to them how you dressed, how you existed, how you grieved?

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Your hands gripped your clutch tightly, the edges digging into your palms, and for a moment, you considered throwing it—hurling it across the hall just to feel something break.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because even here, in this quiet, empty hallway, you felt the silent expectation that you hold yourself together, that you keep smiling, keep nodding, keep existing in a way that made other people comfortable.

You hated this. You hated being you. You hated being the one who was left behind. And God you hated being alone. No Minho to make a quiet joke about the ridiculousness of it all and pull you toward something fun and irreverent.

Just you.

It will be always be just you. You've never admitted that to yourself but now that you did, you feel such panic rise in your chest that you don't hear him at first. Not until his voice broke through the haze.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, tentative, but it still cut through the silence like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression shadowed with concern.

He had followed you.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you managed, your voice trembling as you turned away, willing him to disappear.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his footsteps growing louder as he moved closer with a cautiousness that made you feel like a wounded animal. “Talk to me.” He added, the pleading in his voice almost running free.

"I mean it, Jungkook.. go away." You tried putting distance between the both of you again but far too quick for your slowed senses, he was now standing right in front of you, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with him while also knowing.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving." His tone had coarsened and your dam had broke.

“Why now?” you cried, stepping closer to him, your fists balling at your sides. “Why do you want to stay now? You’ve spent years acting like a stranger, Jungkook. Years acting like I didn’t exist. And now—”

You shoved at his chest, your fists pounding weakly against him, but he didn’t move.

“Now you want to act like you care?” you yelled, your voice cracking as you hit him again. “Now you want to be here? Why?”

Jungkook stood still, his arms at his sides, his chest solid and unyielding beneath your fists. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you hit him, let you pour out everything.His silence infuriated you, and yet it steadied you in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Why do you care now?" you repeated, your voice cracking, trembling like your hands as they hit his chest incessantly. Each word felt like it scraped raw against your throat. "Where were you, Jungkook? When everything fell apart, when I—when I needed someone. Where were you?"

“I don’t need you now!” you snapped, your tears falling freely now. “I don’t need you to come here and act like you care, like you’ve always cared, because we both know that’s not true."

“Because you left!" your voice cracked, the words laced with betrayal. The hurt from the breach of faith weakening you and your punches on his chest until they finally stilled, your hands trembling still as they curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook caught your wrists, his hold firm but gentle, and for a moment, you fought him, your breaths coming in sharp and ragged. But when he didn’t let go, when he didn’t flinch or step back, the fight drained out of you.

Your knees buckled, and his arms came around you slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too tired now. Empty hands that had been holding onto something for as long as you could remember were too tired, have forgotten the feeling of what it felt like to be held instead.

You allowed to let yourself feel that. You allowed yourself to feel someone else other than the woman you couldn’t even recognize in a mirror as you sagged against him, your head pressing against his shoulder as your tears soaked into his shirt, body shaking and shivering from the quiet sobs that you let out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, angel." You heard him say those words like a mantra against your hair, arms tightening around you, nestling you close against his chest.

For a moment, you heard pain there, raw and unfiltered, pain that felt similiar to your own in ways you hadn’t expected. You clutched his shirt tighter. You didn't wanted to be alone and Jungkook felt and smelled of times when you weren't. Earthy and Warm. Like that one time when he pulled you in to him after the death of milo- your first dog, and didn’t even mind your snort.

You had clung to those memories but it felt better clinging to him. A small, desperate part of you wanting to drag him closer, to cling to what little you had left of the past. The rest of you wanted to push him away, to keep screaming at him for daring to come back after all this time, after all this distance.

The sobs subsided slowly, leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt fragile, as if it might shatter with the wrong word or movement. Jungkook didn’t push you away, didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulled you closer, as though he feared you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your gaze searching his face. His eyes shadowed, a stupid perfect strand of his stupid perfect hair falling on his forehead with tension prominent in his jaw and you wondered if there was a time there wasn't.

You wondered if it would make you any more vulnerable that you are right now if you say the words that sit on the top of your tounge, sting in the tears that linger in the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They felt dangerous, like exposing a wound that had barely begun to scab over.

His eyes darkened, a low sound rumbling in his chest—something between a growl and a sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I missed you too, angel."

The rawness in his tone made your chest clench, a part of you craving more, while another part shrieked at you to stop this before it went any further, gather whatever semblance has left of you and walk away, play his cards against him.

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

Your body stiffened at the confession, the world around you shrinking until it was just the two of you, his voice echoing in your ears.

Your first instinct was disbelief.

This can't mean what you think it does.

This can’t mean what you think it does!

The words replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to settle. Each repetition twisted something deeper, something buried in the hollow space that had once been you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, needing space, needing air.

He didn’t move. His gaze followed you, his expression resolute, like he was determined to lay everything bare now that the first truth had slipped out.

But you didn’t even wanted to acknowledge it as something, let alone, a truth. “That’s not—” Your voice cracked, and you forced yourself to start again. "Are you drunk, Jungkook?" You found the thought so repulsing, you could only think of ways to brush this up, put all the blame on the champagne.

From the way his eyes narrowed and brow ridged, you could tell that it was not the champagne.

“Y/N.” he says with a warning. “I’m not fucking drunk.”

“Well, you sound like you are,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Because that—what you just said—sounds like something someone says when they’re not thinking clearly. You're not making any sense, Jungkook!"

“It makes sense,” he was starting to get frustated now. “It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

And you were starting to get scared. You needed him to stop talking. Anything and everything he said made you physically want to recoil. You took another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the weight of unsaid words that are no longer so.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking, hands tempted to cover your ears like a child. His confession felt like a pin pulled from a grenade, and now the blast was unfurling within you. “Don’t do this. It's not fair. It's-It's not fair to him. Or me. Or you."

I know. He admits quietly to himself because he doesn't think anyone knows better than the man who was holding the jagged ends of a once delicate thread. And he hates himself for it because hating you was as unrealistic as the existence of a greater being to him. He had tried. Tried turning to salvation. Tried to despise you for being the one thing that has turned him the best and worst person he can be but he just can't. He prefers hating himself better.

He wants this punishment, that is you. He wants to whisper I'm sorry- I'm sorry for leaving- I'm sorry for coming back in every crook and nook of your body for the rest of his life so you'd feel his expression of regret that could only be a product of love so consuming embedding into you.

Because it's truth. It's his truth, has been for years and years, before he even knew what are the consequences of being a honest person. Now that he is seeing you in front of him—you with a revolting look, a stray tear rolling down your eyes that is nowhere near as angry as it had been before, he understands that it's not a consequence he can take.

He dares to step forward again and even if takes a whole lot of power in him not to pull you into him again, he doesn't and only raises a hand and catches the tear with his thumb.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” you repeat, your voice low and trembling.

And so does his. "I know."

Jungkook didn’t know what he expected you to say, what he hoped for. Forgiveness? Understanding? He wasn’t sure he deserved either.

Yet when you don't pull away, look back at him with the same daring he had stepped forward with, a silence understanding passes between the space that is separating you from him. And he's done being separated from you.

He tilted his head down, his breath stirring your hair when he inhaled deeply, his nose tracing a path down until it rubbed against yours—softly, deliberately—as if giving you time to move away. You didn't and his eyes fell on your inviting mouth again.

Fuck it.

Jungkook surged forward, his hands cupping your face, tipping your face up to him as his lips crashed against yours. The way he kissed you was nothing like the way he had touched you. It was rough, desperate with the way tounge and teeth clashed, filled with years of pent up desire and regret and emotions too tangled to name.

He kissed you like the nights he’d spent staring at the ceiling in places too far from home, wondering if you’d be happier without him there to complicate things, wondering if things had been any different if he said something before. Will you have looked at him like the way you looked at his brother? Would that choice have saved you from years and years of tragedy? Would that have saved him from the weight of his guilt, his love—love that had been a silent, unwelcome presence in his life for so long that it felt like another organ, vital and inescapable?

When he felt you grip him again and kiss him back. Nothing else mattered. The world stopped spinning and he didn't wanted to run anymore.

His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. A low groan slipping from his mouth to yours at the feeling of how you melted against him when he deepened the kiss, tounge proding and exploring all that your sweet mouth had to offer. Gods, he was drunk now.

"Shit." He shuddered as the taste of you finally started to settle in, pulling you closer and closer, then pushing you back until your back met the wall of the hallway.

You should be scared, anxious and pushing him back. The mere thought of someone walking in on you kissing him, your supposed family. Should make you want to end this because you could only imagine the stake they'd pin you on. They'd be not wrong to.

This is traitorous—what you're doing, what you're allowing yourself. But so is a shameful part of you that had always reached for him. Something that whispered to you, so soft it felt like it came from inside your own chest.

It's not so bad. His lips feel good.

But oh, it is. It makes you sick from just thinking how bad it is. Anger, confusion, guilt—oh, the guilt—swirl together and make you so sick.

"W-We shouldn’t.." You gasp against him as your unpracticed lips suck on his in a contradiction.

"No, we shouldn't." He kisses you harder, his mouth only leaving yours to trail a train of kisses along the column of your accessible throat to him, making you whimper out loud that he takes as an sign to nibble and bite.

Your hands find their way to his shoulder and his to your hips. "Legs around me." He licks the length of your neck, narrowing your world down to the feeling of his provoking wet tounge on your skin, his calloused fingers squeezing your hips. It felt all too real now. And despite you being balant enough to start this in the first place, you're not sure if you're still feeling bold. What you are feeling is this sinful, unexplainable craving seeping into your bones, curling around your ribs, making it hard to breath and think. Or maybe it's him.

Whatever it is, you get yourself to pause his eager hands and hungry mouth and speak, your breath coming in short, hot puffs. "Jungkook.. I don't think-" He straightens up and the vulnerability in his voice and eyes is gone as he squeezes your hips tighter.

"Finally gave me that perfect mouth of yours and now you want to walk away? Do you like tormenting me, angel? Do you like knowing that I'd fuck my fist to only the thought of you when you do?" He growls against your ear and you feel yourself flush so hard you're sure he even feels the heat coming off you in ripples.

"Please, baby." He pleads unapologetically, fingers tugging you closer even when all of you is pressed against all of him. "I want you." So bad it hurts.

Gone is the man who had once been so armored, seemed so unreachable and untouchable. And left is Jeon Jungkook, who looks like he will crumble to the ground if you pull away now.

You wouldn't want that. But the words came anyway, right from where shame twisted in your stomach, tangling with the guilt that clawed at your throat. "Do you still want me even if I'm nothing like the woman I used to be?" It came out breakable and in segments, and the second they left your lips, you weren’t sure what to except as a answer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the ragged rhythm of your combined breathing.

You swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his dark eyes was almost unbearable, raw and unrelenting as they searched yours.

"Don't ever say that again." he bit out, every syllable heavy. "I want you always. I want you with my every breath. There's always been only you for me, understand?" He added with a brief grind of his hardened arousal against your front, making you mewl.

The words, though, hit you like a physical forcek, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself, the ones you’d convinced yourself were impenetrable.

Before you could respond, he moved.

His mouth fell onto yours again and with practiced ease, his hands slid to the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. "Now. Legs around me, baby." he murmured in the kiss, and though your mind was a whirlwind of what seemed like every single thought you've ever had, your body obeyed.

You could barely figure out to where he was taking you, too engrossed in the kiss that you steered towards a softer, mellow one, fingers tangling in the hair that has grown a little bit on the nape of his neck. Feeling like you both were two audacious college students trying to find a space in a messy party where you both won't be interrupted.

When he halted in his steps, you assumed that he found it as he kicked it open with a firm nudge of his boot, the room beyond dim and quiet but he barely give you time to register anything else, his movements urgent and frantic as he carried you over to the bed in the middle after swiftly locking you both away. You bounced on the silk mattress as he set you down, though his intentions were grave, his actions or the way he held you was gentle, tounge swiping over his glistening lips like chasing the taste of you that made you want to give him once more.

Audacious, you were.

Your eyes on his face, shadows played along the planes, softening the hard edges of his jaw, but his gaze burned. Dark and piercing, it held you in place as if daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Your eyes followed the sluggish movements of his hands as he reached up, his fingers deftly working the knot of his tie. The fabric slid free, whispering against the buttons of his dress shirt before he cast it aside, forgotten on the nearby chair.

Next came his jacket. He shrugged it off with practiced ease, the broad span of his shoulders rolling beneath the fabric. Your breath hitched as he discarded it, leaving him in the crisp white shirt that clung to his frame, the outline of him barely hidden.

And then his hands moved again, this time to his wrist.

You watched, mesmerized, as he undid the strap of his watch, the silver buckle catching the faint light. He pulled it free and set it down on the nightstand, the movement so fluid it felt almost rehearsed.

It wasn’t until he turned his wrist slightly that you noticed it—the worn thread of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist, faded from time and use but unmistakable.

The one you’d tied around his wrist when you were kids in an action of promise to stay friends for years to come.

But he still wore it.

He still wore it.

Your fingers twitched against the bedspread, the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

And as if understanding your anticipation, he soon followed you down, your breath catching as he hovered above you. You waited for him to kiss you again because god help you, you liked a little too much but he only pressed a chaste one, smirking subtly at the pout that subconsciously formed on your lips that soon parted in a gasp when he started to suck on your neck again, this time with the intention to claim the spot with the scrape of his teeth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, before he drew your flesh into his mouth again, harder this time. The sharp pull sent a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you, thighs clenching together.

"My angel." he said softly, yet nothing was soft about the way he pulled down on the straps of your dress. The fabric slipped, baring the smooth skin of your shoulder, and he pressed his lips there, warm and firm, before trailing lower, his mouth following the path he’d just uncovered. "My undoing."

The red fabric gathered at your arms as he pushed it further, exposing the tops of your collarbones and the swell of your chest. His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, dark and questioning, seeking permission even though his hands were steady, his intention clear.

You nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and earned a chuckle from him that you were sure was the reason for the wetness pooling between your legs.

You had missed that sound. You had missed him.

And he was hell bent on making up for lost time as he dived face first into your chest, humming again when he took in your pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge around the roundness of you.

"Oh shit." Your back arched, hands finding their way to his hair again. Pulling and tugging. Urging him on until his hand was fondling the other, abandoned tit. Squeezing under his rough palms that made the heat lowering your stomach worse—all of it felt too much, too soon. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had been so long.

Too long since someone had touched you like this, with a reverence that made you feel seen, whole, wanted.

You told yourself it was natural, that anyone in your position would respond this way. That it wasn’t about him—it couldn’t be. But your body betrayed you before your mind could even catch up. Your legs wrapped around his waist once more as you ground yourself against him. Against the print of his bulging length you could feel pulsing against you.

"Fuck yeah.." You cursed low, head falling back on the pillows and Jungkook looked up, his own cock twitching at the sight of you, at the feel of you. Of everything he has ever wanted. Of everything he thought he would never have. But here you were straight from his flithest wet dream that would have him taking more cold showers that he could keep count of.

A goddamn miracle for him, this wasn't a dream.

"This here needs some attention too, hmm?" He rasped, hands slipping down from the curve of your waist, to bunch up your dress to your hips. Wasting no time in finding the wet mess you made of your panties. "Look at this." He grunted, hand cupping your clothed mound. "So wet."

You exhaled out like you'd been freed from shackles that felt too heavy and a whimper followed right after when he disposed you of them, exposing your deprived cunt to the cold air that had you clenching around nothing. "And so fucking responsive." He breathed against your bare sex after moving his head down.

You hadn’t expected that. You breath was bated, cheeks were flushed and heart was pounding at the view alone of his face between your thighs.

Then again, he was all about surprising you today.

Though, it didn't make it any less overwhelming.

The way his hands gripped your thighs, firm yet careful, as if he were both anchoring you and holding himself back. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave the faintest imprint, a reminder of where he had been, where he was. Your legs draped over his shoulders, trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, as though your body was still catching up to the reality of this moment.

Never in your wildest dreams, it would have come to this. Come to Jungkook licking a greedy strip up from your folds.

"Jungkook—oh God!" You gasped and he groaned, feeling all of his restraint and the plan to savor this, to savor you, slip away from his tightening hands. One taste of you and he wanted to grasp every drop of like it would be his last.

And so he did.

Burying his face in your wanting pussy like a man with purpose, he lapped. His mouth wrapped around your clit, tounge swiping and licking with a reverence because you were something sacred, something he had put on a pedestal so high, others in his life barely mattered.

"Oh- mhm. Feels so good!" You moan out, mind in a haze of pure fog and he takes it as his cue to plunge his digit inside your dripping core. You're sure you've got no mind now. Grunts of his own leaving him at the thought of your heat wrapping around his aching cock instead.

He felt no shame in that. No shame in what he was doing right now. Because then you moved, your body arching toward him as if to erase every doubt. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging as selfishly as he fed on you, flatenning his tounge on your slit to take all he can get, to give you all he can.

A shaky exhale brushing against your folds. The sound was low, guttural, and filled with more longing than he knew how to contain. "Does it, baby? Sweet pussy's feeling good?" His fingers—knuckles deep now—worked you faster, curling and testing ways to get you closer to the edge.

This was more desire that he knew he was possible of as his hips started to rut on their own, seeking friction in a way that was both instinctual and helpless. Brain flat lining. Face drowned in the essence of you. Desperate, as you pulled on his hair. Pathetic, as he chased his own high from just the taste of you, from just how you enveloped his curving fingers. Ecastic, when you finally reached your breaking point from how he alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, making you come all over his mouth that kindles his face, that he swallow all because he refuses to let anything go to waste.

"Ah fuck—Oh lord!" You fingers tear in his scalp and hips bucked against his face, eyes rolling back until they whitened.

Oh.

Oh.

It was in this moment, with your thighs braced against his shoulders and his name spilling from her lips, that Jungkook knew.

He would never be the same again.

That he too would be coming in his pants like a high school boy.

It wasn’t enough—nothing would ever be enough—but it was all he had, and it drove him to the edge faster than he would’ve liked to admit. The tension inside him snapped before he could stop it, his body tensing and toes curling because he found everything else secondary to the sheer joy of watching you fall apart beneath him.

"Oh shit, y/n. Shit. Shit. Shit." He whimpers against your cunt, his hips finally slowing down their mindless movement. His forehead pressed against your thigh as he caught his breath. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his entire body felt like it was vibrating, the aftershocks of his release making his muscles twitch.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to your clit before leaning back up to feel another wave of release threatening to overcome him when he sees your content expression, hands loosening their grip in his raven hair, half lidded eyes meeting his own before they trail down. "Y-You.." You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have spoken even if you tried.

A lazy smirk made it's way to his lips that caught the light before he licked whatever remnant what was left of you on his fingers.

"I'm a starved man, angel. Cut me some slack." He panted, pinching your bud in emphasis and moved back up before you could even process it, the warmth of his breath retreating, replaced by the cooler air of the room as he straightened. The absence of his lips against you left you gasping, your chest heaving, your pulse thundering in your ears or maybe it was you still riding your orgasm or maybe it was the knowledge that he came in his pants from just eating you out.

Then he was there again, his hands sliding from your thighs to the mattress on either side of you, bracketing you in like a secret he refused to let escape.

"Hi." He breathed against your forehead.

You felt a shy smile twitch on your lips. "Hi." You reply just as breathlessly.

He presses another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" You couldn’t reconcile it.

How could he say things that made your cheeks flush, your body respond in ways you couldn’t control, while his lips brushed against your temple with a tenderness that felt like an apology?

How could he make you feel like you were unraveling and being held together all at once?

You wanted to know. "Mhm. Please." You mewl, hands softly going through the beautiful mess that you made of his hair.

"Please, what?" He demanded, lips on your cheek.

"Please fuck me." You whine and he bumped his nose against your face, chest rumbling from a sound so feverish that you can't help but grind against him again. Coaxing his cock back into hardness with your bare cunt against him, from the realization that you shared the insatiable urges with him.

It got his hand trembling when they reached down to unbind his belt, pushing the fabric down his hips to reveal predicament he's made of his boxers that were bounding his hard, leaking cock but hell if he had it in himself to care.

He had been bidding his time for far too long. Waited enough—longer than any man should have to wait for something that felt this inevitable, this right, this his.

Ridding himself of the last piece of clothing on him, other than the white dress shirt that flexed against his coiled muscles, he took himself In a fist, groaning when he pumped himself in one slow stroke. Eyes never leaving your wide ones like you weren’t sure if you should be impressed, intimidated, or both.

Your breath hitched audibly, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes darted from his face to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away, couldn’t stop the thought that immediately took hold.

"You're too big." Your throat dry, and your fingers fisted the sheet beneath you, trying not too think too much about how thick he would feel down your throat. The sounds he'd make when you would lick him just right.

"And you're gonna take every inch." He said it like a statement, a prominent vein popping in his neck when he finally let go of the locked gaze and focused instead on compressing the tip of his angry, veiny cock to your slick folds.

"Won't you, angel?" He asks with a confident smirk passed your way for a second before his breath wavered again, brows scrunched together and if it wasn't for his tip nudging inside you, you'd thought him endearing.

But once his tip is actually is in, you're left with no thought. Rendered speechless, eyes falling shut when he starts to jab inch by inch.

"Dear lord—" You gasp out loud. The sheet beneath you not providing much semblance so you switch to his shoulders. And you swear, he feel him shake when he is finally all in. Closes his eyes and relishes in your heat stretching around. "Fucking hell." The sensation was overwhelming—heat and softness so consuming it felt like his mind short-circuited, every thought dissolving into static.

But you feel that its your pussy that feels like it's going to split apart any moment now that's stopping him from moving. And partly it is. "You're so..tight." He hisses out and squeezes your hips with great roughness.

"Been long since you've been fucked, eh?" He muses, dark hungry eyes devouring yours when he makes an attempt to move inside you like he was testing your limits. Your mind reels, caught between the sharpness of the initial sensation and the overwhelming desire that followed.

He felt impossibly big, like your body wasn’t prepared for the sheer intensity of him, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your thoughts.

It’s been so long.

The thought came unbidden. Your body had grown used to quiet nights and cold sheets, to the impersonal hum of a vibrator and the absence of warmth.

"Been so long." You confirm, nails clawing at his shoulders, mimicking the roughness that only spurs him on. His lashes fluttered shut, his forehead drops to your shoulder and with a whine of disagreement from you, he pulls back fully just to (to your satisfaction) bury himself back to the hilt.

An unadulterated moan from you broke the silence, a sound so sweet it made him want to come right there and then again. But he'd much rather have you convulse first. Priorities.

His jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he started to move his hips against yours, slow and deliberate, like he needed to feel every inch of your.

Your legs tensed around his hips, pulling him closer. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him, your mind a dizzy blur of heat and need and overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back again, the drag of him leaving you feeling empty, only to return with the same slow, measured thrust.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, barely coherent through the sounds your free spilling moans and the fact that his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice unrefined at the edges, raw with honesty and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were really here, with him, like this.

Your hands slid down his back, clinging to the flexing muscles beneath your palms. You suddenly didn't like that his shirt was still on. Wanting to map out his bare skin with every graze of your nails. But with each thrust, pleasure sparked at the base of your spine and spread outward, your thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

"Yeah- Oh mphm! Just like that!" He flourished in your cries of encouragement, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging into your skin as he was afraid he'd lose control too soon.

And you wanted nothing more. "F-Faster! Please go faster!" His pace was unhurried but devastating, every pull and thrust deliberate, designed to drag you to the edge and keep you there, teetering. You couldn’t take that anymore.

And Jungkook couldn’t take keeping you unsatisfied. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing against it in a fleeting kiss before moving lower, his teeth grazing your jaw. His hands moved to your thighs, urging them higher, wrapping them around his waist as he drove into you with more force, more intent.

“taking me so well, was made for this cock.” Were made for me. he praised, his voice sounding like a backdrop to the obscene sounds his hips snapping against yours as your own body moved with his, meeting him with the same intensity, the same desperate need. "Yeah." He grunted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your boob. "Fuck me back. Use me. Feel me."

All you could possibly do was feel him.

He felt like fire and electricity all at once, a heat that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“Jungkook…” you whispered again, your voice catching on the syllables when his head tipped forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his damp hair brushing your skin.

He whimpered in response, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through you, and he pistoned his cock harder, pulling a cry from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

"I-I missed you." You can feel tears gather in your eyes again. You don't even know why. Why you're repeating what you've already admitted. Why the words feel more vulnerable now. All you know that you missed him and the coil is tightening in your stomach.

Jungkook, too feels like he will break down any moment when he stares down at you. But he’s got a impending orgasm to deliver.

He kisses your eyelids, is tempted to lick the tears that slowly make their way down to your chin but doesn't. He's not sure he'll be able to handle the taste of your despair without feeling like he has to chastise himself for ever being the reason for it.

"I know. I know." His cock thrusts with renewed vigor. "I missed you too. I missed you." He says through his gritted teeth, feeling how your walls fluttered around him.

"Gonna cum now?" He knows what your answer will be. There's a smug underline tone in his rasps that gives him away. How he takes pride in knowing that he's the one to make you release all this tension; once on his mouth; then on his cock that is pulsing with an reoccurring ache.

You can only manage to nod, lips tightly tucked between your teeth, hands scratching and marking on his once crisp shirt that is now crumpled from the fate of your hands.

"Gonna soak my cock, huh? Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and come with me." He demands, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles against your puffy clit that is just enough to tip you over at last.

"Koo.. ah..oh god!" The name you've always called him with a fondness falls unintentionally from your lips when your walls tighten for the last time and you release all over his cock that is now stuttering with it's every thrust.

"Oh fuck. Call me that again." He all but snarls. Cock turns firmer inside your heat that hugs him. And balls screw up.

"Koo.." You whine and that's all he needs before thick ropes of white hot cum is spilling inside you, filling you to the brim. "Mhm, take it all. There's my girl. Pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum." He grinds the best his spent body can into yours that still welcomes him and fuck if that doesn't make him never want to leave.

And he doesn't, for a moment, when he collapses onto you. Just not enough to crush you under his weight. Just enough to latch his lips where ever he can find and whisper words of affection. "Could'nt fucking breathe without you." He's yet to get enough of you. This life won't suffice, he thinks. Then finally pulls out his softening cock from your slick hole with a hiss.

You too feel the loss the of the connection that had pulsed faintly between you, leaving you achingly empty.

He moved with the same carefulness, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. The room was quiet save for your mingled breaths as he knelt beside you, his touch impossibly tender as he wiped at the inside of your thighs. You shivered under the cool press of the tissue against your skin, the sensation making you acutely aware of the aftermath—the way your body still quivered, the way your breaths still came uneven.

You stared at the ceiling while he did so, the edges of your perception blurred as you tried to silence the tingles that still hummed across the length of your legs. A reminder of how throughly he had disentangle you, how throughly his very essence had penetrated into you.

You were ruined by him.

There was no going back from this. You knew that.

What scared you was the realization that you didn’t want to.

You just didn't know how to admit that out loud where everyone and he could hear you.

Your eyes seeked out for him as if that alone could answer all your questions. He returned back against you without a question. Hands finely adjusted the strap of your dress and drew you closer to him with a soft voice, hoarse from the strain of everything he’d given you. "Come here, angel." Bundled you up in his arms and then only did he breathe out.

Your breath stayed differing. “Why do you call me that?” Your voice was curious but tentative. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

You felt his lips curve up against your temple. "You were wearing this really pretty white dress the first time I met you." he began, his voice quiet, almost wistful. “Had these frills on the sleeves. I thought you looked like an angel."

You tried to piece together the memory. “That was so long ago."

It might be understood that it takes months to fall in love but Jungkook had been falling all his life.

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

Can you please do one with Dr. Phosporus and female dragon reader who’s immune to his radiation and absolutely ADORES him because…you know….FIRE💕💕 She follows him like a lost puppy and is a bit of a bubble head. At first, he takes advantage of the attention she gives him not reciprocating it, but overtime he starts to care for her and becomes just a hint protective

A/N: I wasn't sure if this was how u wanted it but I basically made her like human/dragon hybrid who can turn into a dragon. I drew a quick sketch on my phone (not my best but you get the idea lol). I'm gonna be honest, I'm not the best at writing this type of thing but I really tried my best!

Dr Phosphorus dating a dragon girl Imagine

☆ At first he didn't care for you. Sure you complimented him so much his ego grew 10x, and you would steal just about anything that he asked for (or didn't ask for). Hell you've even killed for him

☆ And all that was nice, he LOVED the attention and loved thar he didn't have to return it in any way.

☆ He wasn't really the type to stay put and commit. He didn't like caring for people.

☆ So he let you go on with your obsessions. You worshipped the ground he walked on, and he all he had to do was acknowledge you for you to be satisfied.

☆ But then came the day where you weren't around.

Phosphorus felt something off that day. He and the team were taking a little tour around Pokolistan when he felt a shift of uneasy. He held back from the group, walking a few steps before it hit him. You were gone.

Normally, you'd be right beside him chatting up a storm about anything and everything. But today it was gone. He retraced his steps, trying is best to look for you, when he heard muffled sounds coming from an alley.

You were held down by some men, your mouth tied shut and your tail was held down by their boot. Phosphorus felt a rage inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time. The flames on his body grew as he charged at your attackers.

You watched in awe as he took them down in such brutal ways it put the devil themself to shame. When he was done, there was nothing left but charred bodies. He quickly made his way to you, untying your restraints as he asked you a million questions.

"Why didn't you stay with the group? Why didn't you call for one of us? Do you realized how much shit you'd be in if I didn't notice? How could you-" His rant was cut off by the impact of your body against his. You held him tightly, putting all of your love and care into the hug.

"Thank you." You whispered.

Phosphorus froze for a second, before he lightly patted you back. "Yeah yeah, whatever." He said, trying to remain nonchalant. "But listen, I don't want you out of my sight, ya hear? Such a fucking ditz, can't even fight off a couple of guys. I swear I'm more of a babysitter with you than the weasel..."

You let him continue on his rant as you just gazed at him with love sick eyes.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[dazelvel]

"Your never fully dressed without a smile!"

Alastor and his Deer wife! Finished!~

I still can't believe the sketch for this work blew up It is my most popular post now! Thank you so much everyone who liked it and my character that I made up it warms my heart to hear you liked my design for her you have no idea how greatful i am to receive this suport 💕:) I am happy to have shown my work to you all! I'm starting to feel like my work is really getting out there as an artist which is a dream come true! I imagined this peice to be a duet between Alastor and his beloved ^^

What do you guys think? should I make more?! >;D Let me know in the comments! ✨️ (be kind please!)

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

Artist Note: please do not take inspiration from my work or my characters! Alastor belongs to Viv while the character I made and Nicknamed "Mary" belongs to me and is my original idea! Please do not claim my version as your creation. Much appreciated!

[hellodarling1357]

Could I request Cass trying to seduce and get readers attention who’s playing hard to get? I need more flirty Cass 😩

Touched by an Angel - Cassian x Reader

This request was so much fun to write!!! Thanks for sending it in lovely anon, hopefully you like it 💕

Excuse the cheesy pickup lines, you know I had to do it…

I’m slowly working through my WIPs and inbox so please send me some more requests!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Regardless of the fact that you and Mor had been friends for well over two centuries, Rhy was only just now granting you access into Velaris after much persuasion from his cousin. The plan being you were to stay with Mor for two weeks while she had some time off from her work so that you could properly catch up after being apart for far too long.

Your first night in the City of Starlight was an eventful one to say the least. During the day, you had let Mor show you around the markets and the Rainbow, stopping to have a late lunch along the Sidra, before she dragged you back to her place to get ready for a night out at Rita's. You had heard a lot about the club over your years of friendship, so you were excited to experience a night there for yourself.

After a few too many glasses of wine over the time it took to get ready, you were well on your way to being very, very drunk before you even stepped inside the crowded establishment. Straight away, Mor was pulling you to the bar before promptly placing a shot glass of some pink-looking drink into your hand, followed by another, and another, leaving you feeling giddy with excitement and the overwhelming desire to dance.

So dance you did.

The hours passed and you briefly remember being introduced to some of Mor's friends, not paying much attention as the music and sway of bodies consumed you. However, the overwhelming heat of the swarm of fae pressed so tightly around you eventually got the better of you. You turned on the spot, looking for you friend to tell her you were going to take a breather, only to find her wrapped around a female and very clearly distracted. With a grin spread across your face, you pushed your way through the masses and headed towards the door.

The fresh air was a welcoming change to the stuffiness you had walked out of. But it was the sight before you that had an expression of awe sketched across your face. Velaris had been pretty in the daylight, but at night? You had never seen anything like it.

"It sure is something, isn't it?" You whipped around to face the deep voice that had spoken from behind you.

"I know you." It wasn't a question. The male in front of you did look familiar.

"Yeah, I'm Cassian. One of Mor's friends. We met earlier?" You nodded with a vague recollection of the tall, muscled figure who had seemed to tower over the rest of the dancing fae.

"Right," But you were distracted by the slanted smirk of his full lips, the slight alcohol-induced haze in his eyes tracked your every movement.

You lent side-by-side against the alleyway wall, talking about whatever mundane thing came to mind before an 'acceptable' enough amount of time had passed, then Cassian had you pressed against said wall. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his mouth attacking your neck with bruising kisses, while you moaned out, not caring who heard, at the feel of him inside you. With a final cry, you became undone in his arms, squeezing around him until he came with a guttural groan. You held onto him for support as he helped steady you back onto your feet, afraid your knees would give out as you panted into the chill night air, the thrum of music and excited chatter reminding you of where you were.

"Well, I should probably...," you motioned behind you towards the door, "Mor is probably looking for me."

"Right. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Cassian waited until you had walked back inside Rita's before deciding to call it a, very pleasant, night and flew back to the House of Wind.

*****

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, your stomach churning in a sickly way as the sunlight pooled in through the open curtains.

Mor let out a groan next to you, slamming a pillow over her face before soft snores sounded again. With a groan of your own, you forced yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

You looked like absolute shit.

Your hair was a mess on top of your head, strands having escaped the band you used to pull it out of your face. Dark smudges were smeared around your eyes, a stark contrast to the pale and clammy complexion of your skin. Your eyebrows furrowed even further at the sight of the splattering of hickeys that trailed along the side of your neck and across your chest. Clearly it had been a bigger night than you thought because you had zero recollection of how, or when, they got there. Or, more importantly, who gave them to you.

"You look like you've been attacked by a leech."

You shoved Mor as she stood beside you, observing herself in the mirror with a frown. She looked just as bad, if not worse, than you did.

"You can fuck right off, thank you very much." Your friend just shot you a stunning, if not slightly pained, grin.

"Ugh, come on. Showers then we're going to Rhys' for breakfast," She chucked you a towel before walking out to give you some privacy.

As if in after thought, she threw over her shoulder, "Want me to leave a scarf out for you to cover them up?" You slammed the door in her face, the wooden panel not blocking out her laughter as she asked, "Or would you prefer a jumper? Something with a high neckline?"

*****

Walking past the gate of the High Lord's town house, you knew should definitely be feeling somewhat nervous as the prospect of having a casual, albeit hungover, breakfast with him and his inner circle. But the fact that you were hungover, and that the heavenly smell of bacon was wafting towards you, had all pretences flying out the window.

You and Mor were the first to arrive, or more like, the first to drag yourselves out of bed, so had first dibs of the spread of food before you.

Looking a little green, Mor mumbled something about needing to get some fresh air, leaving you alone to eat your eggs in peace. That peace was short lived, however, as the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs reminded you that there were others in the house, and whose house it was for that matter.

Mor waltzed into the room at the same time as the three Illyrian males, you knew Rhys straight away, having met him a few times throughout the years, but the other two only looked vaguely familiar. You were sure you could pinpoint their names if you thought about it hard enough but, alas, your brain was still not properly functioning.

There was a chorus of muffled "mornings" but other than that, everyone was content to eat, and suffer, in silence.

You eventually got up, taking a pile of dishes into the kitchen, vaguely aware of one of the males following behind you.

He let out a low whistle before saying, "Well, I clearly left an impression."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, turning to face the male as you studied his face.

"Do I know you?" Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have been so blunt. You would have at least tried to feign some sort of confusion, 'I thought you looked familiar', 'of course, what was your name again?' but with your head still spinning you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Yes," He let out a laugh that quickly faltered as your evident confusion remained, "We had sex. Last night…"

You blinked as he waved a hand towards your neck, where the marks were still very clearly visible. But before you could say anything, laughter sounded from the other room as a stream of taunts filtered in.

"I thought you said that you were good in bed, Cass. That's just embarrassing, not even a few hours later and poor Y/N has already forgotten all about you."

“Left an impression, my ass.”

Cassian

That's right, you could place him now. Him, and the somewhat blurred memory of frantic and passionate kisses, muscled arms holding you tightly, the sounds of...

Yep, you remembered.

Clearly not deterred in the slightest, Cassian gave you a dazzling smile, running a hand through his tousled hair before saying with a wink, "That's alright, I'll just have to make it more memorable for you next time."

You scrunched your nose at the implication. Sure, he was attractive. Honestly, one of the most attractive males you had ever laid eyes on. But you knew better than to fall for the clearly tried-and-tested smirk that you had no doubt had been used on countless females before you.

"Thanks," You noted the glint in his eyes as he continued fixing you with that intent glaze, "but I'll pass."

You walked towards the collection of snorts and laughter as you left Cassian standing in the kitchen with the stack of dishes, a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face.

*****

A few days into your visit, Mor had left you to your own devices for a few hours, which was how you ended up stretched out on one of the seats in the town house's garden, a book in hand as you basked in the sun. You were slightly aware of the back door opening and closing but paid it no real heed, that is, until the shadow of someone standing in front of you pulled your eyes away from the page.

You looked up expectantly, already anticipating the direction the conversation was heading in; having grown accustomed to Cassian's flirtations and not so subtle attempts of wooing you since that first morning.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked towards the empty seat he was pointing at, and the one beside it, and the one beside that.

"Yes, it is. No go away, you're blocking the sun." You looked back down at your book, not sparing him a second glance.

"We can't have that now, can we, sweetheart?"

For a moment you thought he had actually listened to you and was heading back inside, that is until you quickly glanced up and found him sprawled across the glass, staring up at you with a smirk.

"What? You said that seat was taken. And at least from down here I'm not blocking the sun. You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

You stared ahead in frustration before letting out a huff as you returned to your book, not missing the grin that had spread over Cassian's face at your reaction.

A few minutes of silenced had passed, you had almost forgotten about Cassian's presence until he let out a soft laugh and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you, right now, the way the sun is shining on you, you look like an absolute vision."

You shifted in your seat trying to ignore the irritation that simmered away.

"What is this? What are you doing?" You snapped back, not giving him a chance to answer, "Is this your way of flirting with me?"

Without missing a beat, Cassian answered, "Yes. Is it working?"

The wink he sent you had your indignantly moving your book up to block him out, and to prevent him from seeing the traitorous blush that spread across your cheeks.

*****

A few night later, you were having dinner with Mor and the rest of the inner circle, having grown quite close to some of them over the week you had been staying.

"You know what I don't get?" Cassian, who sat across from you, asked, "What I don't get, is how someone as beautiful as you could possibly be single. And, the funny thing is, I also happen to be single, but we can easily change that. How about it, Y/N? Fancy a drink?"

"Oh, I would but... I've already got one. Thanks anyway." You gave him a pretty little smile as you raised your glass before turning back to your conversation with Mor and Amren.

"Better luck next time," You heard Azriel say through a laugh as Rhys ruffled Cassian's hair.

*****

The next time you saw Cassian, he had run into the kitchen at an alarming speed, a slight look of panic in his eyes as you cautiously observed him.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I need your help,” Your eyes crinkled in concern, “Please. Can I please borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”

The faux-panicked look was quickly overtaken by a wide cheesy grin as he leant in towards you.

“Cassian,” You yelled, whacking him with a tea towel, “You prick! I thought something serious happened.”

“Something serious did happen, Y/N. The night we met, and you stole my heart… That alleyway will never be the same after what we shared there.”

You threw the tea towel at him as you stomped out of the room, passing a confused looking Mor, who, upon seeing Cassian standing there with a lovesick grin, rolled her eyes and followed after you.

*****

“I don’t get why you don’t just say yes,” Mor said as you heavily sipped from a glass of wine back at her apartment. “He’s one of the good ones, Y/N. Take away all of the cringy pick-up lines and I think he’s serious about wanting to take you out, he really does like you.”

“It’s not that easy…”

“No? What’s not easy about it?”

You starred at her, not wanting to say what was on your mind. She was just as stubborn though, if not even more so than you, so stared right back with a quirked eyebrow as she waited for your explanation.

Huffing in defeat, you flopped back onto the couch and let out a sigh.

“It’s not easy, Mor, because there’s no point. I leave in a few days so why start something up when it’s not going to last.”

“You don’t have to,” Mor sat herself beside you, wrapping an arm around you as you leant your head on her shoulder, “leave that is. You could stay.”

“Right,” You let out a sharp laugh, “Let me just pack up my whole life and move across Prythian for a guy I’ve known all of ten days.”

“Or,” Mor counted, sending her elbow into her ribs, “You could move across Prythian for your dearest friend who has missed you like crazy and knows that you’re miserable back home. The guy could just be a nice bonus on the side.”

You sat up, staring at your friend as you mulled over her words.

“Move here? Is that allowed? Where would I even live?”

“Yes, it is. I already spoke to Rhys about it, he would love for you to stay, said he’s already got some potential work lined up if you’re interested. And, obviously, you can stay with me until you find your own place.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Huh. Now that was a thought.

“If I moved, that’s an if, not a yes, it would be for you, not because of…him”.

“I would hope so. Though I’m sure Cassian wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

The knowing grin and wink she gave you had your cheeks reddening as you lifted a pillow to cover your blush. Mor just pulled you back against her side, knowing that your hesitancy to move was just a front and that you would be packed, moved and settled in Velaris within the week.

*****

It was, technically, your last night in Velaris before you went back home to pack up your belongings. After talking out the logistics with Mor and Rhys, you had excitedly agreed to move and become an official citizen and member of the Night Court.

You had spent the afternoon with Mor looking at potential apartments before making your way to Rita’s for a ‘goodbye’ drink with the rest of the inner circle.

After tossing and turning all of the previous night, you had come to the decision that moving to a new city, a new court, signified the beginning of a new chapter. So why not throw caution to the wind and see how things played out with a certain Illyrian male who was currently standing by himself at the bar while he waited to be served.

“Hey,” You somewhat yelled over the music and laughter of the fae around you.

Cassian did a double-take before dramatically clutching at his chest, “Y/N, it should be illegal to look that good, it’s not fair on the rest of the females here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your usual snarky remark didn’t follow.

“I know our time together is limited,” Cassian continued, the dramatic tone still lacing his voice, “But before you leave us behind, would you at least just grab my hand, just for a moment, so that I can tell everyone I’ve been touched by an angel?”

Shaking your head as he grinned down at you, you relented and grabbed his hand. He was quick to slip his fingers through yours with a satisfied smile.

“I’m not leaving,” You said, very much aware that your fingers were still laced together, “Well, I am. But Mor convinced me to move here, so I’ll be back in a week or so.”

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up, shock settling over his features. Clearly no one had told him of your plans.

“Oh?

“Yep.”

You were interrupted by the bartender as Cassian ordered you both a drink before turning back to you with a quizzical expression.

There was a beat of silence in which your hands were still interlocked, Cassian’s thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of your hand, and you watched one another for a moment, as if seeing each other in a different light.

“Your way of flirting is truly awful, by the way.” You teased with a small smile. With the way Cassian was looking at you, there was no chance of attempting to stop your blush.

“But is it working?

“Maybe…”

[ahrianee]

I love your design for traitor Roboute! Do you have any lore for him?

I'm so glad you like my design for Traitor! Roboute!(˶◜ᵕ◝˶)

And if I have some Lore for this silly Au that I created with the excuse of drawing a bad Roboute and... Yandere.

Basically, traitors are loyal and loyalists are traitors. In this case, the one who started the heresy was Lion el' Johnson. This au, the winners were the traitors.

Erebus is the one who convinced Lion that the Emperor was hoarding all the power for himself and was not going to share it with them.

In this Au the one who dies is Fulgrim, if Fulgrim takes the place of Sanguinius.

Traitors

Lion [Blessed by All the gods]

Roboute [ Blessed by All the gods]

Sanguinius [Blessed by Slaanesh]

Leman

Jaghatai Khan

Corvus [This has been too obvious and easy]

Ferrus [ Blessed by Tzeentch]

Lorgar Yes, he's still a heretic, and no one will judge me for that, I hope...

Vulkan [ Blessed by Nurgle]

Yes, I tried to make some sense of it at first, then after seeing how difficult it was I just made it so that whoever was most suited to be blessed, my boyfriend has helped me a lot with this.

And I just left a sketch of Traitor!Roboute.

Someone who has a slightly more arrogant and confident attitude, knowing the capabilities he has, has a somewhat inflated ego.

And here's also a sketch of Tzeentch! Rena

Rena who in this Au, was corrupted by the promises of knowledge offered to her by Tzeentch.

Roboute was not at all pleased that his fiancée continued to ignore him, and one thing led to another and he ended up locking up his own fiancée to keep her by his side.

Ps: In this Au he gets his arm back... Only now it's a "bird" arm with feathers

Yes... This whole Au is an excuse for a Yandere plot... I don't regret anything... I learned to draw to fulfill my delulus thoughts

✨💕

[rossithepixie]

SO I hit a milestone back at the start of the year (and I'm sure if you've been here long enough you'll recall that's when I started my health misadventures with the first of two surgeries) but now that I should be rounding the corner I want to do something special!

Nothing too fancy but I'm going to open two sketch slots to raffle off. One sketch slot is for selfship art of you and your blorbo. and the second slot will be of your blorbo and your pet/a pet!

The first one feels pretty self explanatory while the second came to me after I drew dazai holding my cat to comfort myself.

So rules! This is for my followers as a thank you first and foremost and will not be for new blogs this time round. I must be able to find your age to see that you're 18 to double check.

To enter send me an ask! On march 31st i'll randomly generate the winners. Please let me know if you just want to be put in one of the categories and be mindful that regardless that you can only win once.

Once winners have been selected I will reach out. Time will vary on how long it'll take me to finish things once i get started so please be patient with me.

Thank you for all being here with me and allowing me a space in this community 💕 -Rossi

[discosmackdown]

i got through my queue so now ALL my comms are OPEN! i have more examples of what i can offer under the cut so please read everything carefully! ✨

this will not be first come first serve, i'll be working on each commission as best as i can throughout the month. no commission should take longer than a month to complete, but i do ask for patience as i also have to balance daily life with art.

❔if you're interested, DM me with details of your request and as many ref sheets as possible. i typically draw up a rough sketch of your request and send it to you for approval. if the comm looks good, then i will send you an invoice with the full price and proceed to finish up the comm. if you want to add an additional character, $15 will be added to your total per additional character (EX: requesting "the works" but wanting 2 characters will round up to $80 total) i ONLY use PayPal!

💭if you'd like to commission me for a more detailed picture that isn't listed above, i have extra examples below of what i can offer! please be aware that full illustrations may take me longer to complete depending on the complexity of your request.

✅ i can draw furries/anthro, humans, fankids and OC's, ships and pairings. if you're unsure about an OC or character, just ask me!

❌i WILL NOT draw anything fetishy or super explicit, hate art, gore/guro, mecha or highly detailed robotic characters. again, if you're unsure about your request, just ask me.

⚠️ i reserve the right to draw and post personal art in-between commissions. if you're curious about the progress of your comm you can always ask me, but just because i post personal art while working on comms does not mean i'm ignoring or avoiding working on your comm. pestering me about this will result in a refund and cancellation of the comm. i can and WILL also refuse a comm request if i am uncomfortable with a ship/pairing or if a rule above is broken.

if you're curious about something that isn't listed here, ask away! thank you! 💕

comms such as these will start at $300 and increase depending on the complexity of your request. if your commission exceeds 3 characters it will be an additional $45 charge per character.

in addition: comms such as these will start at the base prices above ($25/$45/$65) but will receive an additional $15 charge if you'd like to have a more stylized background like the examples below.

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[uzumaki-ash]

⚠️WIP⚠️ Another sneak peek for the comic since yall LOVED the last one 💕😁 cause she’s gonna take a hot minute… again it’s not done just sketched out hehe

Also for anyone who cares I did scrap a page of the comic it was just dragging and the page I got rid of wasn’t necessary so it’s now 12 pages with the 13th page being a lil bonus 😉 I will also probs take a lil break from it after I finish sketching as to not cause burnout haha so if you actually are excited to see it please stay tuned for updates

This comic will contain some triggers as well as it is a angst/ sad comic which I will list when I post the full thing 😊 I also normally don’t do angst I normally only do fluff or NSFW (I’m 22 btw before anyone freaks out haha) sooo if it’s bad I apologize in advance

[natendo-art]

Sketch Sunday

thankyou for the tag @blackbirdofasgard 🥺💕

I’m going through a bit of an art crisis right now, everything I sketch looks so bad. I don’t think 2025 is going to be a good year for art for me 😅

but here are some recent sketches 🥺

Mobius has been beaten into submission by Janus.

Bartender Mobius ( I have made multiple attempts at bar tender Mobius but I still can’t get it right 🙈)

Sunshine man 💕

A little sketch from my other mr tesseract au

Loki, Mobius and Janus. This was an idea I had for a new years sketch.

More Janus and Mobius

Have I sketched sleepy Mobius millions already? Yes. Will I continue to draw him cosy and sleeping? Yes

Mobius showing off his wife 💕

Detective Mobius getting beaten up as usual

Husbands holding the multiverse together 💕

Mobius takes the throne

Janus being his sassy self

Another bartender attempt 🙈 it’s never gonna happen lol

so yeah, it’s a mess. But I’m trying to push through it 😭

I won’t tag anyone in particular, but if you would like to, please join in 🥺💕💕

[drunk-person]

The perfect storm (The Gossip) P.8

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Aemond and Y/n face things in their own ways, the long-awaited charity ball finally begins.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, mentions of past abortion, coercion with money, no description for reader.

Word count: 12.300k

A/n: Birthday update 💕💕💕 (a few hours late, but okay) I hope you like the chapter, I imagined the entrance to the Targaryen ball like the red carpet at the Met Gala, the reporters take pictures for the magazines, but they can't enter! About the songs in the chapter... a little Torn by Hands like houses on the top and Dark Horse by Katy Perry on the bottom.

"Hey, Hey Kings Landing, Y/n Targaryan was photographed this afternoon leaving the apartment complex where her older cousins ​​Aegon and Aemond are known to live, barefoot and in tears. What could be the reason for so many tears and such sadness? Some of our readers found it interesting to highlight our dear girl's deep tan. Where has she been? We know she hasn't been to Black Water Bay!"

❦❦❦

-Y/n… please… open the door. - Aemond begged, feeling his eyes burning as he leaned his forehead against the door, and making his own chest hurt even more he heard her muffled sobs through the thin wood.

-Go away! - She screamed once again. - Please don't hurt me anymore! - And after she screamed that with so much pain amid sobs that made Aemond's heart shatter, he walked towards the elevator with shaky steps, as if he were going to collapse on the floor at any moment.

Aemond got into the car barely feeling his own body, he didn't even remember the path he had taken to get there. The tingling sensation numbed him and when he slammed the door behind him and saw himself in the car mirror, he finally realized he was crying. And with that mess of emotions that he couldn't even manage, he just leaned his head over the steering wheel of the car, still holding the necklace between his fingers and stood there for a few moments trying to get his own breathing back to normal.

And finally starting the car, he returned to the company, which by that time was practically empty due to the time. He didn't even realize how much time had passed since he left there earlier, the afternoon seemed like a blur in his head and without even looking twice at the empty hall where the secretaries usually stayed during work hours he entered his own office, slamming the door behind him.

The air there seemed thin, and Aemond could barely breathe looking at the room. He didn't go back to the apartment because he didn't want to face the happy memories with Y/n that were now trapped there. But it was no use, since his office was infested with her, her laughter, her loving gaze, the soft words she spoke to him, the sweet sounds she made while he took her.

And without thinking, overcome by pain and fury, he threw the folder hard against the wall causing it to open on impact and the laptop to fly out along with the papers that were there. Aemond immediately caught his breath when he saw the colorful drawing of a butterfly flying across the floor along with sketches of clothes, dresses and some notes.

With his chest hurting even more, he bent down and picked up the papers from the floor, feeling his stomach churn when, among the notes and drawings for Y/n's plans, he found a pencil drawing of himself sitting at the table working with a look of concentration. The drawing was perfect in every detail, just like everything Y/n did, and further down the page was written in her delicate handwriting "My handsome businessman" with a heart next to it.

And before he could vomit the gastric juice that was the only thing he had in his stomach, Aemond turned his back and left the office once more, not knowing where to go. Finally, as if on automatic, he found himself in the parking lot of the apartment complex where he lived while trying to decide whether or not to go up there.

And when he finally did, he stopped in front of the apartment door while feeling his insides churn. He couldn't touch the doorknob and open the door, it was as if it would grow teeth and bite him at any moment. The idea of ​​going in there and facing the memories of the last few days was almost suffocating, knowing that when he opened the door Y/n wouldn't jump towards him and kiss him passionately was too painful to bear and with that thought he turned and went towards the elevator once more.

❦❦❧

Aegon was sprawled on the couch wearing only his pajama pants. He had already put Jaehaerys to sleep, and Sunfyre was lying next to the little one on the bed. Suddenly the dog skidded across the floor of the apartment and started barking at the door and Aegon rolled his eyes already knowing who would be there, since Sunfyre always barked like crazy when Aemond arrived.

-What the fuck did you do Aemond? - Aegon asked as he opened the door while Sunfyre jumped with her front paws on Aemond sniffing and licking him. Aemond, who always rolled his eyes and told her to stop while patting her on the head, just stood there in the hallway with his eyes slightly lost, as if someone had ripped his soul from his body again.

-I didn't know where else to go. - He murmured, still looking lost and the older man made room for him to enter, pulling Sunfyre off his brother in an affectionate way while stroking the dog's soft fur.

-I saw the newspapers. - Aegon locked the door, observing Aemond walked slowly to the black leather sofa and sat up straight, staring into space.

-Considering what was in the headlines I'm happy she didn't kill you. - He tried to lighten the mood, but Aemond didn't even blink his eyes, continuing to look at nothing.

The eldest waited a few moments, but Aemond didn't open his mouth. He just sat there, motionless, stroking what Aegon finally realized was the sapphire necklace that Y/n always wore. Aegon couldn't help but make a barely contained grimace, if she had taken that thing off her neck it was because things had really gotten bad between them.

-We'd never fought like that before.- Aemond finally spoke, his eyes glazed over, staring into space, still holding the stone from the necklace tightly.

-Yes because you were seventeen. - Aegon rolled his eyes, pouring a drink while Sunfyre put her paws on the table and looked curiously, he then stroked her neck and walked back towards his younger brother, dodging some of Jaehaerys' toys that were thrown on the carpet. - Everything is beautiful when we are that age. - He rolled his eyes.

-She told me never to look for her again. - Aemond muttered, barely looking in Aegon's direction.

-What really happened? I couldn't even believe it when I saw that shit show in the newspaper. - Aegon rolled his eyes and took a light sip of his drink. - Are you fooling granpa and the Baratheons for more than a year and now this engagement?

-Mother and grandfather found out we were back together. - Aemond murmured. - They showed up at my office yesterday and wanted me to get engaged, I said no, but that I would go to the ball with Floris.

-And then 24 hours later he announced your engagement. - Aegon grimaced in disgust as he caressed Sunfyre's fur. - I'm not surprised, it's just like our grandfather to do something stupid like that.

-Did you try to explain it to Y/n?- He frowned.

-She didn't want to listen to me. I went after her to try to explain it, but this whole thing was already messing with her, the engagement announcement made her lose her mind. - Aemond looked at the floor as he spoke, squinting his eyes slightly as if he could see everything before him once again. - I tried to stay calm, I swear I tried, but when I realized it I had already yelled at her.

-I promised I would never yell at her like that… more than once. - His eyes were glazed, making Aegon remember 5 years ago when Y/n left. - If you saw the look on her face…

-She'll forgive you for this, she loves you. - The eldest shrugged his shoulders, looking at him.

-I said she was just like her father… - Aemond laughed without humor.

Aegon grimaced instantly when he heard that, he knew how it worked, Y/n would never admit any similarity to her father, and she hated when people compared her to him, but every now and then the similarities appeared, especially when she was angry.

Like the time they were kids and a girl in Helaena's class called the older girl a freak and Y/n hit her on the head with the blackboard eraser with all the strength she had. He shuddered as he remembered the slap in the head he got from his mother when he laughed at the whole situation.

-Look, she's mad at you now, for more than one reason, but when her anger passes, she'll agree to talk and everything will be fine.

-How will it be fine? - Aemond burst out, turning to his brother with his eyes burning with rage. -Tell me how? With our grandfather demanding something that I can't do for him? I don't want to get in the way of his business, but I don't know how I can keep doing this!

-The elections are coming and months ago the party made a proposal through our grandfather. - Aemond clenched his hands tightly as he spoke. - They want a younger face in the campaign and I would really have a chance of being elected.

-And where will this choice take you? Do you even really want that? Or does our grandfather want it? - Aegon rolled his eyes and looked at his brother very seriously. - You never wanted to get involved in politics, you always wanted to work at the company.

-What do you really want, Aemond? - The older man arched his eyebrow, looking at him seriously, but still relaxed.

-I want to keep my position at the company and I want to help our grandfather. - He hissed. - But I also want Y/n, I can't live without her!

-You know, I want a fucking cigarette right now. - Aegon threw his head back against the back of the sofa. - But Jae's doctor said that it's not good for him if I smoke, so I'm quitting smoking.

-The thing is, when you really love someone, you have to make sacrifices. - He looked at his brother very seriously as he shook the glass in his hand. - You always knew that there would come a time when you would have to face everything and everyone if you really wanted to be with her. Now that time has come, Aemond. Are you willing?

Aemond stared blankly through the wide window, staring at the sept of Baelor, lit up with hundreds of small artificial lights for some event taking place that night, and the oldest sighed, sinking a little on the sofa before starting to speak again.

-Look… you were still very young when all that pregnancy stuff happened to me and Lyan. - He stirred the drink in his glass slightly. - But our mother and grandfather tried to convince Lyan to have an abortion… with money, obviously. - He raised his eyes and looked at his younger brother. - But she said she would never have the courage to do it.

-So they tried to pay her to say she was lying and that the child wasn't mine.

-She refused? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in confusion since refusing money didn't seem like something Lyan would do.

-No. I refused. - Aegon smiled melancholy. - I said no one would take my son away from me and that I would be part of his life.

Aemond stared at the older man with slightly widened eyes, hearing him talk about this for the first time.

-Do you know what Mother said when I made that decision? That it had been the worst mistake of my life, and that I would regret it forever. - Aegon laughed, looking at the glass that was still half full. - And in the end, it was the best thing that happened to me, Jaehaerys was the best thing I ever did, the best choice I made, and I don't know where I would be without him.

-You need to stop obeying everything mom says. She loves us, but she's not right about everything, and she also doesn't know where our happiness lies. If I had listened to her years ago, I wouldn't be here now, I wouldn't have Jaehaerys. Sometimes we need to take risks and take the reins of our lives into our own hands, even if it hurts the person who usually holds them first.

Aegon's gaze was firm as he spoke, leaving Aemond slightly surprised by his brother.

-Well, what kind of parallel reality is this that we live in, where you're the one giving me advice on how not to ruin my own life? - Aemond laughed lightly, still with sad eyes as he looked at the older man.

-Come on, I have my moments. - Aegon laughed, curling his mouth and eyebrows, putting his feet on the coffee table and drinking the last sip of whiskey.

-And alcohol helps anyone to become a philosopher. - He shrugged his shoulders. - But if our mother asks, I'll say I told you to obey her. - He laughed, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and Aemond just rolled his eyes, leaning his head back on the back of the sofa.

-Daddy! - The scream in Jaehaerys's childish and frightened voice rang through the apartment. - There's a monster under the bed, pulling my little foot!

-Duty calls! - Aegon said, laughing, throwing himself against the back of the sofa before standing up and assuming a look of false seriousness.

-You'd better be gone by the time I get there, Mr. Monster, or you'll feel my fury! - He shouted threateningly, going up the stairs in an exaggeratedly noisy way towards Jaehaerys' room, being faithfully followed by Sunfyre, making Aemond smile slightly.

A few moments later, Aegon came down with Jae in his arms, gently stroking his back and heading towards the kitchen while Aemond watched them closely.

-That monster won't come back? - Jaehaerys asked with a very worried expression to his father, affectionately stroking Sunfyre's golden fur, who had his paws resting on the counter to reach him.

-Of course not! Didn't you see? - Aegon frowned very seriously. - Daddy finished him off! No more evil monsters pulling my baby's feet! - And after saying that, he kissed his son's feet, making the boy laugh and cringe at the tickling while Sunfyre barked and jumped happily around the two.

And even with a slight smile on his face watching his brother playing with his son, Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart when he remembered all the plans he had made with Y/n, and how all of that could be ruined forever.

❦❦❦

The day dawned and Y/n felt like a living dead, still wearing the same yellow dress from the day before, sitting on the bed, tightly hugging the duvet as she stared at the ceiling, feeling her face pull from the dried tears on her cheeks.

Until the firm knocks on the door made Y/n's heart skip a beat, quickly looking in the direction of the sound.

Aemond.

Still irritated, but relieved that he was back, Y/n threw the duvet aside and ran towards the door without even putting on her slippers, opening it forcefully in her anxiety.

-I told you not to come back… - The words died in Y/n's throat when she saw who was standing in the hallway. It wasn't Aemond, it was Daemon Targaryen, her father.

-Hi Y/n. - He looked her up and down with his serrated mouth and a very serious look on his face.

–Dad? - She spoke almost in a whisper, unable to believe that he was really there. - W-what are you doing here?

-I just came to see you. - He murmured, entering the room while Y/n closed the door, still little static.

-Why now? - She whispered with a shaky voice. - After years?

-I thought maybe you wanted to reconsider that conversation we had years ago. - Daemon just shrugged, looking around the room with a frown, while Y/n remained paralyzed, staring at the door. - Spend time with us in Pentos, meet your younger sisters…

-Why didn't you come get me when I really needed you? - She hissed, pressing her eyes tightly and feeling her stomach suddenly boil.

-I didn't have your guardianship to simply take you out of there whenever I wanted and you know that. - Daemond spoke with a calm voice, staring at her back.

-You didn't even try! - Y/n turned to her father, her eyes shining with a mixture of tears and fury. - You never cared. You never fought for me. You abandoned me like a mangy dog ​​the first chance you got!

-You're my daughter and I care! - Daemond hissed, taking a step towards her while trying to remain calm. - And as much as I didn't want to leave you, we both know that at that time the best thing for you was not to be with me.

-Maybe the best thing for you now is not to be with him.

-No! - Y/n felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed her heart when she heard that assumption, immediately shaking her head.

-You've been here for less than a week, and news of your supposed involvement has already reached the Pentos gossip channels. - Daemond sighed. - Do you think this will end somewhere good? This engagement is just the beginning, Oto will do anything to free his grandson from any kind of scandal on the eve of the opening of the election period.

-This is all your fault! - Y/n hissed, staring at him and Daemon frowned at her in confusion.

-My fault? How is it my fault that that cunt treats that imbecile like a puppet?

-If you had been a minimally decent father, I would never have met Aemond in the first place! - She spoke in a low and fierce voice, almost biting her lips as she gestured towards her father.

-What else did you want from me? I was there for you until your mother died, and when she died, I took you away with me, until Viserys got involved in something that was none of his business. - Daemon growled, clenching his jaw and curling his lips in disgust, almost spitting the words in her direction.

-I wish you weren't my father! - Y/n shouted almost on tiptoe, as if that helped her voice stand out from her father's. - I wish I didn't have any connection with this stupid family!

-I just wanted my mom back. - Tears of anger and sadness ran down her already swollen face, as she screamed and gestured towards Daemon. - I wish she had never died because she was the only person who truly loved me in this world! Who never abandoned me willingly!

-Don't act like I never came back for you! - Daemon yelped, pushing the dressing table chair hard onto the floor. - As if I didn't give you the choice to leave with me when you had the chance, and you chose to stay for him and now you want to blame me for something that was no longer within my control! - He looked at her with wide eyes. - It was your choice! You chose wrong and that crazy bitch put you in that asylum that is Old Town!

-Don't talk about her that way! - Y/n hissed at the same time when she heard him refer to Alicent in such a low way.

Daemon turned towards the wall with his hands on his head and laughed in pure mockery.

-So you still defend that bitch?

-That bitch took care of me for all those years, while you went on with your life with your new perfect and happy family.- Y/n spat the words at him, her eyes burning with anger. - Nothing will ever change that.

-How nice of her to take care of my daughter after she and her husband stole her custody from me! - He walked around the room in long strides with a cynical smile on his face. - I should be very grateful to her.

-If my uncle asked for custody of Baela or Rhaena, would you hand them over? - Y/n asked in the firmest voice she could muster.

Daemon didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at her without making a sound.

-Would you give them up? - She shouted, taking a step towards him.

-Things are different now…

-That's what I thought. - She interrupted him with a wry laugh, throwing her head back. - Could you at least not pretend that all you felt was relief at getting rid of me and having nothing connecting you to my mother anymore?

-That's not true Y/n! - Her father lost his temper, slamming the table with a loud noise. - I hated that marriage with all my might, I couldn't stand being by your mother's side! But I always loved you!

-That's a lie! - Y/n shouted in fury, walking towards him with hard steps. - Everything in this family is a lie. Everything! Fake friends! Fake marriages! Fake happiness! Fake love! I just wish I didn't have to be part of all of this! I just wanted to be truly happy.

-If you really loved me, you would have fought for me. - She screamed in her father's face, pressing her nails firmly against her palms and closing her eyes. - You wouldn't have left me, you wouldn't have made me go through the greatest pain I've ever felt in my life!

-And what kind of pain would that be? - The oldest mocked, losing control over his own temper. - No longer being able to roll around in the sheets hiding with that cunt?

-Shut your mouth! - She screamed, her hands tangled in her own hair, almost jumping on her father. - Shut up! You know nothing about me! Not even about Aemond, much less what I had to go through!

-Get out of here! - Y/n screamed, opening the door with such force that the doorknob hit the wall hard, tearing off a small splinter. - That's what you do best! I don't need you or your fucking advice! You have two other daughters, take one of them and go play daddy present!

Y/n stared at him with eyes bloodshot with anger, feeling her body shake with fury as she held the door open. And taking a deep breath, Daemon walked towards the hallway.

-We can still fix all this, come to Pentos with us when we get back. Things will be different this time Y/n. - He sighed one last time and without giving a verbal answer Y/n slammed the door hard in his face, walking again towards the bed, still feeling the heat of tears on her cheeks

❦❦❦

Aemond could barely sleep throughout that night. He just stayed clear sitting on Aegon's couch, replaying everything that had happened as if it were a movie. Each time he wished he could take back what he said, but never could he.

And still driven by sadness and fury, he took the car keys and left the apartment without even telling his older brother. Speeding through the streets of Kings Landing with only one destination in mind.

-Mr. Targaryen, you can't just come in like that. - Oto's secretary screeched, looking slightly wide-eyed at Aemond, who just ignored her, muttering a dirty word as he threw open the door to Oto's office.

-How can you do that? - Aemond hissed, slamming the door behind him and striding toward his grandfather's desk. - How can you announce this lie without my consent?

-It was the wisest decision. - Oto gave little or no importance to his grandson's anger, continuing to write something down in a notebook, barely looking him in the eye when speaking.

-It wasn't your decision to make! - Aemond's eyes shone with barely contained fury as his hands trembled close to his body, being pressed so tightly that his nails left half-moon marks on his palms. -You had no right!

-You're still young, Aemond. - The eldest finally put down the fountain pen and looked at his grandson. - When we are young, we often don't know how to steer the boat of our own lives, we don't know how to make the right decisions! And we often get lost.

-We need someone older and wiser to guide us through the stormy ocean that is high-class life. Someone to make the difficult decisions for us. - He rested his hands on the tabletop with a very firm voice. - I made this decision for you, because I will not allow you to throw everything we worked for in the trash for something as insignificant as a foolish and childish love.

-What I feel for her is not a foolish and childish love! - Aemond hissed, also resting his hands on the table and staring at his grandfather, his eyes shining with barely contained anger. - I will deny all of this today!

-If you do that, Alicent will die of shame, Aemond. - Oto spoke firmly, staring at him. - Your mother spent hours on the phone apologizing to Floris for her behavior. To make her be reasonable and stay by your side through all of this.

-What do you want? Shame your mother? Humiliate Floris Baratheon by leaving her like that?

-I didn't ask for any of this! - His hands shook as his teeth pressed together so tightly that they grinded. - It's not my fault, it's yours!

-What did she say to you yesterday? - The eldest faced Aemond firmly, crossing his hands with his arms on the table. - She probably asked you to throw everything away and just crawl around her… the typical egocentrism inherited from her father.

-Y/n is not like her father! - Aemond shouted muffledly, clenching his hands on the table and squinting his eyes tightly. - You don't know her and I won't allow you to talk about her like that!

-I'll go to this ball with Floris, because she doesn't deserve to be involved in all of this! - He hissed in an angry voice. - But after that I'll give it a week and I'll announce that we've rushed into the engagement.

-A week is too little! - Oto shot him a glare. - Do you think waiting just for that will solve anything?

-And what do you plan to do about the rest afterwards? Go out with your cousin and tell everyone that you're involved? - The oldest laughed ironically.

-To ruin your career in business and mine in politics? - Oto stood up on the table, furious, glaring at him. - I forbid you to do that! Do you hear me, Aemond?

-That's your life! - He hissed in a hateful voice. - Learn to deal with it! - As Oto spoke, Aemond had the impression that his grandfather grew in size, making him feel like a 10-year-old boy again. - You were born into this family and you have to act according to what your position demands.

-If I lose her because of you… - He murmured, his gaze lost and full of pain. - I will never forgive you, grandfather.

And without listening to anything else that Oto could say, Aemond turned his back and left the older man's office. The urge to go to Y/n again haunted his thoughts like an insistent ghost, but fear made him restrain himself and return once more to Aegon's apartment.

-You know, it would have been good to let me know that you were leaving early today after all that talk yesterday. - The eldest rolled his eyes and sighed, throwing himself into an armchair with Sunfyre close behind him as soon as Aemond walked through the door.

-I didn't know if you had gone after her again, gone to talk to the septon or thrown yourself off the top of a hill.

-Neither of the three. - Aemond muttered without paying attention to Aegon's provocation and also without saying where he went. - But I need a favor.

-As long as it requires minimal effort, doesn't compromise my physical integrity and doesn't make me late to pick up Jae-Jae from school… - He shrugged, raising his eyebrows and curling his mouth downward.

-I need you to go to my apartment and feed my cat. - Aemond sighed, still unwilling to enter the apartment.

-Cat? - Aegon looked at him confused while Sunfyre tilted her head to the side. - Since when do you have a cat?

-Sunday. - He murmured melancholically, looking at the floor.

❦❦❦

The rest of Y/n's day was nothing but pain. She could barely bear to look at her phone for fear of seeing some news report talking about Floris and Aemond's engagement, but she kept it close to her anyway, waiting for him to call. Until she realized that Aemond didn't even have the number for that cell phone and couldn't call even if he wanted to.

Some time passed and the bedroom phone rang. Y/n almost fell out of bed to answer it, and when she did, her voice was anxious and breathless, her face filled with hope. But all that went away as soon as a female voice apologized for the inconvenience and asked if she would confirm her presence at the family's charity ball that would take place on Friday night.

-No. - She sighed against the phone with her eyes saddened again as she slid the phone back into its cradle.

Everything passed in a strange blur and dark memories of hateful days came to her mind without asking for permission. Night fell and she didn't even notice the darkness that swallowed the city with the curtains so tightly closed as they were. And when she fell asleep, she was still wearing the same yellow dress, tightly clinging to the hotel duvet while tears still ran down her face.

The next morning Y/n was still in the fog of sleep, tormented by dreams that seemed more like nightmares. She woke up with a start when she heard someone knocking on the bedroom door. And holding her breath as she felt her heart skip a beat, she ran to the door.

Being invaded by disappointment as soon as she opened it, when she came across a smiling red-haired girl carrying a cart with a carefully arranged breakfast.

-Thank you, but I didn't ask for this.

-They said in the kitchen to bring the coffee to your room, madam. - The girl looked down and stopped smiling. - I'm just following orders, if you want I can take it back.

-All good. - Y/n forced a smile at the girl. - Don't worry, you can leave it here.

The redhead entered the room with the cart and widened her eyes slightly when she saw how messy the adjacent room was.

-If madam wants, I can ask someone to come and clean up the hall so you can be more comfortable. - She offered, her eyes still a little shocked, and Y/n, who was distracted looking at the newspaper on the cart, didn't even hear the question to which she nodded positively.

-Have a good day, madam. - The girl bowed her head in respect and left the room, leaving her alone, and Y/n didn't even answer, still staring at the headline on the front page of the newspaper.

The engagement of the decade? How the marriage between Targaryen and Baratheon can help in the merger of two of the largest companies in the country.

And right below a black and white photo of Aemond and Floris at what looked like a party.

She didn't touch the food. She just went back to bed and curled up once more, hugging her body tightly as if that could prevent the almost physical pain she felt.

Hours passed and Y/n was still lying in bed clutching the pillow when she heard the door opening and at the same moment she raised her eyebrows and getting up. Her curiosity passed almost instantly when she heard two female voices and realized that it was just the maids cleaning the room adjacent to the room.

With a sigh, Y/n just lay down again, hugging the pillow even tighter, feeling tears in her eyes once again, and seriously thinking about calling Aemond to apologize and beg him to come back. Until the whispers of the chambermaids reached her ears.

-I heard that the dress Floris Baratheon is going to wear is so bright that it would blind the sun if the ball were held during the day. - Y/n heard one of the maids whispering to another as they cleaned the room and her stomach twisted.

-About the damn dress? - The other whispered back. - I heard that the diamond in the ring Aemond Targaryen gave her is so big that they sold a branch of the company in the south to be able to pay for it!

-If that's true, then he must really be in love with her.

Y/n's blood boiled in her veins upon hearing those words, she didn't even hear the rest of the conversation between the two women, feeling as if her heart were beating in her ears and raising her furious eyes from the ground for the first time in the day.

If Aemond thought he could show off with that bitch like she was a trophy and not suffer the consequences he was sorely mistaken. She wouldn't let that happen. She would go to the annual charity ball and give him a taste of what she was feeling.

Still heartbroken, Y/n got up from the bed, wiping her tears hard, she needed a new dress that was good enough… good enough to outshine not just one, but all the stars in the sky. As soon as the door closed and the maids left the room, she reached for her cell phone and dialed a number that she was very familiar with from calling so many times to make requests.

As the phone rang, she opened the curtains of the beautiful window with a panoramic view of Black Water Bay, feeling her eyes burn with fury and the golden sunset sun that was beginning to fall over the city.

-Olena, my dear, how are you? - She smiled forcefully into the phone, using the friendliest voice she could muster with so much anger and sadness in her own heart. - I need a dress for tomorrow night!

❦❦❦

Friday morning flooded Aegon's apartment, illuminating every corner and crevice, except for the large living room, which had its curtains firmly closed since Aemond had sat on the couch two days ago and remained there without moving for practically anything. Just staring at the table, the wall or the ceiling as if they could give him answers and solutions.

When Aegon went downstairs to prepare Jaehaerys's breakfast he sighed and threw his head back at the sight of his brother still looking the same as the night before.

-Okay, that's enough! - He croaked, jumping off the last step and heading towards Aemond. - Look, you've been wearing the same suit for like three days. - Aegon grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

-And that's none of your business. - Aemond muttered without even looking at his brother, making him snort in anger.

-Listen, you didn't eat, you barely slept, and I don't even know if I saw you drinking water. - The oldest enumerated on his fingers, looking at him leaning against the water green wall of the apartment. - If you keep this up, it won't be long before I'm going to be arrested for concealing a corpse.

Aemond just ignored him, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

-Okay, I've lost my patience. - Aegon walked over to the drinks table where his cell phone was. - I'm still the big brother and if I don't eat a sandwich, take a shower and wear clean clothes… I'll call Helaena.

-Fuck you, Aegon. - Aemond closed his eyes firmly with anger.

-I'm serious. I'm going to say that you've been on my couch for three days without showering or moving and she's going to freak out and leave the turtles and her other weirdnesses just to come see you.

Aemond rolled his eyes angrily and let out a hiss of indignation, he hated it when Helaena worried. The last time was enough.

And seeing that his brother was serious, he got up and walked towards the guest room to finally take a shower. When he finally came down the stairs, Jaehaerys was drawing a syrupy smile on his pancake with little blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose. While Aegon poured juice and prepared two sandwiches, he hummed a song and nodded positively at something his son said.

-Uncle Aem! - Came the little boy's excited voice. - I got the best grade in the class in art once again!

-My teacher even told Daddy to put me in a drawing class! - He swung his legs over the counter. - Isn't that right, Daddy?

-Yes, it is, little mouse. - Aegon ruffled his son's hair, smiling and holding out the plate with the sandwich to Aemond.

-That's amazing, Jae, really amazing. - Aemond smiled melancholy as he remembered how excited Y/n had been when she was enrolled in the drawing class years ago. And as he bit into the sandwich, his heart ached and he wondered if Y/n had eaten the food brought to her in the room.

-Are you going to the ball tonight? - Aegon raised his eyebrow as he watched the younger one.

-I have to go. - Just like the last few days, he didn't look his brother in the eyes when he spoke.

-At least try to get some sleep. And not on the couch, lie down in the guest room and get some rest or you'll have a syncope in the middle of the party.

-Daddy, what is sinky? - Jaehaerys tilted his head to the side, his cheeks stained with maple syrup.

-When Uncle Aemond goes days without sleeping and falls flat on the floor like a fool. - Aegon explained, making a funny face as he wiped the laughing little boy's face.

After breakfast, Jaehaerys dragged Aemond by the hand up the stairs and practically forced him to lie down on the bed with soft sheets. Scolding him in a gentle way that reminded him of Helaena, saying that he would not let him have such a "sinky" and that he would take care of him.

And when the little boy left the room with Sunfyre in tow, he closed the door carefully and whispered in a sweet, childish voice.

-Sleep well, Uncle Aem.

He felt his heart tighten at the prospect of forever losing the dreams he had dreamed of his entire life and now perhaps could never have.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking out of Tyrell with several bags hanging from her arms while keeping a serious look on her face to keep from breaking down. The hotel driver was waiting for her in front of the store in a black car, and when she put the bags in the back seat to get in, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

-Cece, dear! - She greeted with forced joy and a sweet smile on her lips.

-Doing last minute shopping for tonight?

-Yeah! I've been so busy the last few days that I haven't had time! - She rolled her eyes, smiling and putting her right hand to her temple.

-Completely normal. - Cece rolled her eyes. - Where are you going to get ready?

-Missy Misaria obviously. - Now it was Y/n who rolled her eyes as if that were obvious.

-What do you think about going to the ball together then? - Cece arched her eyebrows and smiled interestedly. - I'm also going to get ready there, and then my brother will come by with the driver to pick me up. Our parents will arrive early, you know… business.

-Oh, that would be great! - Y/n narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she heard her speak, and a small smile appeared on her lips.

❦❦❦

Hours later Aemond left the room, he hadn't slept well, but at least he had stretched his back and tired body. As soon as he passed in front of his nephew's door he frowned when he heard the singing coming from the bathroom, and opening the door he found Aegon washing Jaehaerys' hair in the bathtub while the boy sang and struggled in the bathtub to make more foam.

-Are you getting ready for the night? - Aemond frowned since it was at most 3:00 pm and the ball only started at 6:00 pm.

-I started early. - Aegon shrugged. - I need to comb Jae's hair and dress him so I can take a shower and get dressed.

-And what are you going to wear? - Aegon looked him up and down, since Aemond was wearing shorts and a shirt borrowed from him.

-I could even lend you one of my suits, but I don't think you'll be well received at a gala ball with your shins out, Mr. Big Guy.

Jaehaerys laughed as he usually did when his father made a joke, even if it wasn't funny.

-Listen, sooner or later you'll have to come home again… - He shrugged, making a mohawk with shampoo in his son's silver hair. - Maybe it'll even help you think about what to do.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to follow his brother's advice, he said goodbye and left his brother's home, heading towards his own apartment.

Aemond could barely look around as he entered. Everything was exactly the way she had left it when she left, the blanket on the sofa, the glasses on the counter, a half-eaten peach on the computer desk.

He ended up letting out a sideways smile when he realized that Vhagar was lying lazily on the couch, completely asleep. And feeling a little relieved, he put more food and water in her bowls, since what Aegon had served was almost gone.

When he entered the room, he saw Lys's unpacked bags lined up on the floor, and with a melancholic smile, he opened the one containing the orange sweatshirt and the white blouse, sighing when he realized that the sweet smell of her skin was still stuck to the fibers of the fabric.

And after gently placing the clothes on the bed, he took a deep breath and then headed towards the shower, trying not to think about her body clinging to his while they both bathed and exchanged passionate kisses.

The shower was longer than he expected, and there in the safety of his own bathroom, completely alone, a few tears ran down his face, mixing with running water falling from the shower.

Shortly after drying himself with the towel still wrapped around his waist, he picked up a small golden key and the clothes on the bed, walking to the living room. Just like he usually did when he was sad, Aemond opened the heavy curtains in the living room and let out a sigh as he looked at the horizon at dusk.

And taking a deep breath, he left the clothes on the shelf and put the key in the lock of the wooden chest, but as soon as he did so, a notification sounded on the cell phone that had been left in his room. Feeling a slight thread of hope, Aemond walked quickly towards the cell phone, but when he got there he only sighed in disappointment when he read what was written.

Find floris at her house! - Grandpa

-Hell. - He muttered, pressing his eyes tightly closed and heading towards the closet to get dressed.

Nothing there seemed to have the same shine without her, he never felt that it actually did, but at that moment it seemed that what was already black and white had become just gray.

He dried his hair and tied it back, leaving the rest loosely falling down his back. And right after putting on his shoes, he heard Aegon's voice calling him by name in the hallway. After Aegon was quiet, Jaehaerys' voice sounded right after, imitating his father, but shouting "Uncle Aemy", making him roll his eyes.

-We are no longer in the age of conquest. - He muttered grumpily as he opened the door. - They already invented the doorbell.

-Are you coming with us? - Aegon chose to ignore him, something that was very common on his part.

-I need to get Floris.

-Oh… I see. Then we'll see you later. - He suddenly nodded seriously.

-Bye uncle Aem. - The little boy waved and Aemond smiled sideways when he saw him wearing a suit as he walked all pompously to the elevator imitating Aegon.

❦❦❦

As soon as Aemond stopped the car in front of the Baratheon mansion, the butler opened the door and Floris came down the small stone staircase in the entrance hall to meet him, wearing a yellow dress and with her hair tied up. The butler ran to the car and opened the door for the girl to get in, and she frowned as she looked at Aemond.

-That's it? Couldn't you have at least bothered to order a limo? Are we going in your car? - She glared at him as Aemond left the mansion grounds.

-I didn't have time to think about it. - Aemond hissed slightly irritated, squeezing the steering wheel with both hands.

-But of course not! You were too busy embarrassing me. - She rolled her eyes in disdain. - Do you think people weren't asking me things all the time? That my friends aren't whispering when they think I'm not listening?

-Your friends are all treacherous snakes who would kick you in the back if they could. - He mocked irritably, speeding up the car.

-And what are you? - She bit back.

-I never promised you anything! - He growled, turning towards her angrily. - You knew from the beginning that I didn't love you, our parents decided this relationship.

-No, but at least your mother assured me that you weren't some creep who went around fucking your own cousin. And now look at this… - Floris widened her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side and then making a face. - You two make me sick!

-So why don't you just end it all? - Aemond growled angrily, glaring at her as he stopped at the traffic light.

-Because you know I need this as much as you do! - She almost screamed in anger, waving her hands. - I'm the second daughter too, my older sister will probably be the future CEO of Baratheon Industries, but if I married you my father wouldn't think twice before leaving me as the main heir.

-Your mother called me and assured me that it was all a misunderstanding, that it wasn't what it seemed.- Floris made a childish voice and pouted while imitating Alicent. - She thinks I'm some kind of idiot and that I don't see what's happening in front of me!

-I can't marry you! - Aemond said abruptly, stepping on the brakes, making the car behind him honk loudly.

-What? - Floris hissed, her eyes flashing. - Listen here, the engagement has already been announced, your mother and grandfather assured us that we'll get married and solve all this. So I think you better calm down and go back to the real world where we live and no septon in the world is going to marry you off to that lunatic cousin of yours!

-Don't you dare say anything against her! - Aemond growled, his voice dripping with anger, and he pressed his eyes tightly together.

-Then I talk about you! No one will ever accept this in high society, and if you bring this madness to light… you'll be burying yourself and your career. - She rolled her eyes as if Aemond was an imbecile, and he didn't say anything in return, just driving faster than the streets of Kings Landing allowed.

-At least pretend to be happy tonight. - She practically growled, opening the door for herself as Aemond handed the keys to the event valet minutes later.

❦❦❦

The hall was decorated with everything that was finest that night, and the many guests who arrived looked at everything in amazement, each year the Targaryen ball was more beautiful than the year before.

And even with so much beauty Aemond didn't care, even when they walked the red carpet moments ago and the camera flashes almost blinded him at the entrance of the event all he could think about was Y/n, what she was doing at that moment and how he would beg her forgiveness on his knees at that moment if he could.

Floris' golden dress shone even more with the camera flashes and she smiled robotically as she posed correctly for the photographers, making sure to leave the farce that was that ridiculously large ring in evidence.

The two went down the stairs, crossing the hall side by side with rigid postures while Floris forced joy and greeted back everyone who congratulated her on her engagement, while Aemond just nodded and thanked him in a taciturn way.

-Can you at least pretend a little better? - Floris hissed just for him to hear without taking the smile off her face and Aemond had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

-That's my best. - He spoke almost monotonously while staring at a fixed point on the wall with an almost lost look, making Floris snort and with a fake smile pat his shoulder right after walking towards the younger sisters.

The anger for being at that ball and not by Y/n's side corroded his veins and without thinking much after Floris walked away he just approached the bar still with that lost and unfocused look and took the first drink he saw the boy behind the counter preparing for the Gods know who.

-Little brother, I don't know if you noticed, but this isn't water. - Aegon raised his eyebrows, moving closer when he saw Aemond drink the second glass.

-Mmmm. - He deliberately ignored what the older man said, going in another direction.

-Aemond considering the fact that you have the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel I think it's better to stop. - The eldest took the glass from his brother's hand and exchanged it for the glass of champagne he was carrying with him, drinking Aemond's drink in one go and making a face when he almost choked.

-What the fuck are you drinking?

-I don't know. - Aemond rolled his eyes, more grumpy than usual, his voice stopping at a growl. - I just took it from the bar.

Suddenly a strange commotion began outside the hall where the photographers from the magazines and newspapers were positioned looking for the best angle, leaving some of the more attentive guests looking in the direction of the main door.

It was then that moments later a strange silence briefly took over the hall, only the soft music playing in the background, until low murmurs began again and louder conversations returned soon after.

And when Aemond looked towards the door he saw her entering the hall in a long blood red dress that still left a lot of skin on display, as it had a huge side slit on the leg and thin straps that led to a reasonably deep neckline. Her skin seemed to glow under the lights of the hall and Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he admired her.

Her beautiful silky hair was tied in an elaborate hairstyle and her neck adorned with a necklace with hundreds of diamonds, and the realization that she was not wearing her beautiful sapphire made Aemond's heart ache. Still, she was certainly the most beautiful of all those present, and that was the only certainty he had that night as soon as he laid eyes on her.

-Take a picture, it will last longer. - Aegon had a mocking look on his face as he took the glass of champagne from his brother's hand and downed it in one go.

The sparkle in Aemond's eyes disappeared almost instantly the next moment, because behind Y/n entered Jason Lanister and with a smile crossed his arm around her waist, guiding her through the hall through the people.

At that moment Aegon was sure, if he hadn't taken the glass from Aemond's hand he would have broken the stem with the amount of force he was squeezing his own hands.

❦❦❦

-What in the name of the seven hells is she doing here? - Oto growled angrily at Alicent as the two watched Y/n descend the stairs next to Jason. - Didn't you say she didn't confirm her presence?

-And she didn't! - Alicent scolded with wide eyes. - I checked the list twice.

-I should have suspected she would do something like that! - Oto muttered angrily, almost pulling out his own hair as he ran his eyes around the room, observing each person's reaction to Y/n's arrival.

And to make the man's mood even worse, Daemon appeared at the top of the stairs accompanied by Laena and his pre-teen daughters.

-The gods should have forbidden this damn man from reproducing. - Oto swore furiously heading towards Aemond and Aegon with Alicent at his heels.

Having difficulty moving through the hall without being stopped to talk to almost every guest who greeted him, when Oto and Alicent finally reached their final destination, Aemond and Aegon were no longer alone. Viserys, Daemon and his family were with them.

Jaehaerys was now at Aegon's side, looking curiously at the unknown people he had already realized were family.

-Oto, it's been a while. – Daemond smiled mischievously. - I hope you've resolved your problems with the party officials.

Oto hated Daemond with all his might, and not content with messing up Oto's life personally, he had to leave an heiress in his place when he finally left.

-And I hope you've learned to behave better in the face of fatherhood.

Before Daemon could answer, Rhaenys and Corlys joined him, all smiles at seeing their daughter and granddaughters.

-Oh, Laenor can't come, he's been working too much lately, you know? - Rhaenys rolled her eyes affectionately as she spoke of her eldest son.

Viserys was all smiles as he talked to his cousin and brother, and Aemond barely heard what was being said, just looking in Y/n's direction, not missing a single movement she made. Until a soft voice called him and he looked away.

-Little brother, is everything okay? - Helaena looked at him worriedly with Daeron by her side, and Aemond forced a smile and ended up nodding to the older sister.

Helaena was beautiful in her own way, wearing a light blue dress full of details that looked like scales. Her hair was a little tied up and a little loose, full of hairpins that looked like small sparkling leaves or shiny beetles.

-It's okay Hel, don't worry about me. - He muttered, looking again at where Y/n was, but she had disappeared.

Aemond looked around, feeling his stomach churn momentarily, and when he finally turned back, he saw her approaching with Jason by her side and a sweet smile on her face.

-Y/n, dear! - Viserys hugged her. - I thought you weren't going to come, how good the joy of your presence gave us.

-Jason was kind enough to offer to accompany me, uncle. - Y/n lightly laid her head on Jason's shoulder and Aemond felt his palms tingle.

And as if nothing else was needed, Rhaenyra came all smiles towards them all, accompanied by her husband and her insufferable children.

-Uncle, I heard you're engaged, I never imagined this day would come. - Luke mocked, making Jace laugh. And even though she was mad at Aemond, Y/n wanted to slap that little idiot on the head for talking to him like that.

Normally Aemond would be angry, but he didn't even process Luke's words, too concerned with where Jason's hands were on Y/n's waist.

-Oh, how good it is to see our family all together after so long. - Viserys's eyes shone with a smile, seeming oblivious to all the tension in the hall.

-I want a picture! - He smiled even more, waving to one of the photographers and guiding Alicent closer to him. - A family picture!

And still with tense looks, everyone gathered in front of the photographer, Viserys in the center with Alicent on his left and Rhaenyra on the right. Harwin hovered beside Rhaenyra like a shadow three times her size, his hand resting on her shoulder protectively as Jace, Luke, and Joff stood in front of their father together.

Daemon stood next to his favorite niece and her husband, standing next to Harwin with Laena at his side and their two daughters in front of them. And to stay close to his youngest daughter and granddaughters, Corlys stopped beside Laena, gently pulling Rhaenys to stand in front of him.

Behind Alicent, Oto hovered with one hand on his daughter's shoulder and a serious look on his face. Beside Alicent was Helaena, smiling happily as she adjusted her golden flower tiara. Beside her, Daeron smiled discreetly, smoothing his hair with the palms of his hands and whispering something softly to his older sister.

Aegon stood behind Helaena with Jaehaerys in his arms. The boy looked curiously at his aunt and just by looking into his eyes, you could see that he was considering the idea of ​​taking one of the shiny hairpins from Helaena's head, but his father was too busy keeping his eyes on his younger brother to notice.

Aemond stood beside Aegon, looking deadly serious as he clenched his jaw so hard that the older man thought he could hear it creaking. His gaze was clearly directed at Y/n, who was staring back at him in the same way.

Whenever Viserys asked for photos like this at charity balls or even at simpler events, Y/n would run to Aemond's side with a smile on her lips, and they were so close that there was barely room for an atom, but that night she looked away and walked towards her father, stepmother and younger sisters, receiving a sweet smile from Laena and a discreet curve of lips to her father. Daemon placed his hand gently on Y/n's shoulder and she stood before him with Baela and Rhaena on her left side.

The eyes of everyone at the ball were turned in that direction, and even a layman could notice the glares exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, while Alicent and Oto looked worriedly at both of them.

The flashes went off blinding them all, and as soon as the photos were taken everyone separated at the same moment.

-Don't worry Oto, I've been overcoming the challenges of parenthood every day, but I assure you that at least I don't intend to pimp my daughters for social positions. - Daemon whispered only for Oto to hear before moving away.

-You insolent man! - Oto hissed furiously as Daemon walked away.

-Helaena! - Y/n's excited voice rang out as she gently hugged her cousin. - I missed you so much.

-Ah Y/n, I felt you too! - The eldest gently tilted her head as she spoke. - Do you know that I work at the beach now? - She rambled excitedly. - Those little turtles I told you about once are finally being protected.

-That's great Hel, I'm so happy. - Y/n hugged her once again and Helaena smiled, reciprocating softly as was her custom.

Until Jason said something in a low voice to Y/n and guided her in another direction. At the same time Aemond went after the two, feeling his head exploding with anger and frustration when he saw that filthy man touch her waist. But before he could reach them, Aegon stepped in front of him, stopping him discreetly.

-Aemond, what are you doing? - He gave a fake smile to those watching from outside and took a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing by.

-I'll do it the old way. I'll cut off his hands and then make him swallow them. - He hissed with so much anger and seriousness that Aegon swallowed hard, not knowing if his brother was serious or not.

-Alright, take it easy, knight of the realm. - Aegon frowned. - Public dismemberments were banned about 500 years ago.

And before Aemond could say anything else, Floris appeared in the middle of the crowd, burning him with her look of fury that was visible even with her hiding it behind a smile.

-Mrs. Stark loved my ring and found it in extremely good taste. - She said in a falsely gentle voice. - She wishes to greet us.

And crossing her arm through Aemond's in a firm grip, she practically dragged him towards the Stark table. The two once again received a shower of congratulations and greetings for the engagement, which made Aemond's stomach churn as his eyes frantically searched for Y/n among the people, never losing sight of her for more than a minute with her being easy to identify in the red dress.

Until the inevitable happened and the two couples met in the hall, staring at each other vehemently.

-Floris, my dear, it's been so long since I've seen you. - Y/n smiled cynically.

-Really a long time, Y/n. - She looked at her up and down bitterly. - I didn't think you would come back so soon, I heard that you were going to become a septa.

Y/n frowned and almost choked upon hearing that, but she recovered almost instantly.

-Who made you think such a thing?

-Your aunt? - Floris arched her eyebrow.

-Although she doesn't look like it, Aunt Alicent has a very good sense of humor. - Y/n forced a smile as she gave Aemond a prickly look, who barely noticed the conversation, too busy glaring at Jason.

-It's a beautiful dress, but from what I can see, it's not a famous signature. - Floris teased Y/n with a look of superiority as she pointed out her dress.

-Oh no, my dear, it's from Tyrell, the new collection hasn't even been released yet. - Y/n smiled provocatively, pouting slightly. - I'm a personal friend of Olena Tyrell, she insisted that I choose a more recent one.

-Yours, on the other hand… Yves Saint Martel, isn't it? Two years ago… - Y/n sighed cynically, her hands on her hips, smiling internally when she saw the angry look on Floris' face, so Olena was right about the dress. - I would have chosen something better for such an important occasion.

-Come on, Jason, I want to talk to Cece. - She pulled him away, leaving without giving Floris a chance to respond.

❦❦❦

-Floris is stunning. - Pia murmured to Jane, enchantedly observing the dress with a golden fabric that shone as if hundreds of tiny diamonds were sewn through the fabric.

-Yeah, it's a shame her fiancé is more busy mentally murdering Jai Lanister than asking her to dance. - Elyrio rolled his eyes, carefully observing the movements around the room.

-Just look at their skin. - Lion arched his eyebrow. - I knew she would be as tanned as him, in person she looks even more sunburned than in the photo in that magazine.

-I think that if he could kill Jai, he would have already killed him. - Jane whispered, observing Aemond discreetly and feeling a little uncomfortable with the strength of the anger that emanated from his gaze.

-He's having an affair with his cousin and Floris probably knows about it. - Pia murmured slightly astonished, as if even after all the previous assumptions this was a shock.

-They both announced their engagement. - Nia spoke without even a drop of the certainty that was in her voice a few days ago when talking to her friends.

-That doesn't stop him from cheating on her. - Elyrio shrugged, taking a sip of champagne as if that was totally obvious.

-Did you see Flo's face at the opening of your sister Nia's restaurant? - Jane arched her eyebrow a little tensely as she remembered. - I asked her about Aemond and I thought she was going to strike me down alive.

-Did your sister tell you if Floris told her anything? - Lion looked at her, bursting with curiosity.

-No, she didn't tell me anything, but I think Floris just didn't tell her. My sister wouldn't be able to hide something that big from me. - Nia still seemed shocked by the situation as she watched the glances exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, who were walking with their respective partners through the hall, but didn't even seem to know they were there.

-Even better, did you see the photo of Y/n leaving his building shortly after the engagement announcement? - Elyrio brought the subject back to Y/n and the photo that had been almost more talked about than the engagement. - He seemed to be out of his mind! Disheveled and crying in public, I've never seen her do that, not even when we were kids at school!

-From what I've heard, the rumor circulating among the hotel staff is that she disappeared after she arrived in the city and came back on the day of the engagement announcement, locked herself in the room and never came out again. - Jane muttered

-I heard that Aemond went there! - Lion shrugged. - But I don't know if it's really true. The driver was telling our cook that he heard it somewhere, so I'm not sure.

And the trained eyes followed Aemond as he moved away from Floris and headed once more towards the bar, followed closely by Aegon.

-Wait a second, was Aegon dancing with Cece's aunt? - Elyrio whispered with wide eyes, starting a new gossip in the group.

❦❦❦

-I hope your bloodlust has reduced after that walk. - Aegon put his arm over Aemond's shoulder, and the youngest removed it in the next instant.

-Mmmm. - Aemond almost growled, drinking another glass of champagne in one go, making Aegon scratch his head apprehensively.

The minutes passed and Aegon watched Aemond while Aemond watched Jason and Y/n. And when the urge to go to the bathroom became too much to bear, Aegon waved to Daeron discreetly and the younger crossed the dance floor towards them.

Aegon just gave him a look and Daeron nodded, standing next to Aemond while the older brother went to the bathroom.

-Hey big bro, I think it's best not to drink anymore. - Daeron smiled very kindly, advising Aemond who just rolled his eyes and took another sip from the glass.

But then moments later he saw Y/n walking alone towards the bathroom, and without thinking twice he put the glass on the counter and went towards her.

-Where are you going? - Daeron said trying to be casual and failing miserably, making Aemond roll his eyes deeply.

-To the bathroom. - The oldest continued walking but stopped abruptly and without turning around he growled. - Daeron, I swear that if you follow me into the bathroom I will kill you, and then Aegon.

The younger brother just swallowed hard and let him go while watching from afar with wide eyes as he took a sip of champagne to disguise himself, almost choking as he drank from Aemond's glass realizing that what was there was clearly not champagne.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking towards the bathroom when she felt a strong hand pulling her into the dark hallway next door, and she almost screamed but as soon as she felt the touch on her skin she knew almost instantly that it was Aemond pulling her.

-What do you think you're doing? - Aemond growled at her as soon as they arrived in the corner.

-I just came to the ball, It's not a big deal. - She laughed carelessly as she spoke venomously.

-With Jason Lanister? - He hissed softly, getting even closer to her and Y/n could smell a slight smell of alcohol on his breath.

-Did you drink whiskey? - She whispered with concern, bringing her palm to his face, momentarily forgetting her anger.

-That's not the point. - He muttered, still enraged. - He's always been following you around like a stupid dog! Get away from him right now!

Y/n's anger resurfaced redoubled with those words.

-Who I hang out with is none of your business anymore. - She hissed angrily, pulling her hands out of his reach. - And don't you dare touch me again!

-Jason has been very kind to me tonight. - She mocked, her smoldering eyes hidden behind a sweet smile. - A true gentleman. Maybe I'll give him a kiss at the end of the party as a reward!

-You won't let that fucking bastard touch you! - Aemond shouted muffledly so that only the two of them heard

-Oh really? And who's going to stop me? You? - Y/n sneered, throwing her neck back. - I think you're too busy receiving your engagement congratulations for that! - She growled and left him alone and furious in the dark side hallway.

That was the problem with Y/n and Aemond knew it, she was too sweet for her own good. But even the gentle beast can bite when it feels threatened

❦❦❦

When Aemond returned, Aegon and Daeron were arguing lightly and the older man sighed in relief when he saw him.

-Thanks to the gods.

Aemond couldn't even express his anger, he just rolled his eyes and ignored the two of them, feeling that the only thing that would make him happy that night was to strangle Jason Lanister. And to make things even worse, he felt an unwanted touch on his right shoulder.

-Darling. - Floris called him in a sweet voice that didn't match the angry look in her eyes at all. - Your mother asked us to take more pictures.

She pulled him by the hand away from his brothers, leading him towards one of the ball photographers. Amidst the smiles for the pictures, Floris subtly touched his chest between his shirt and jacket, caressing it affectionately and after the last picture was taken the girl smiled and left a soft kiss on Aemond's chin. Making his stomach turn, not with pleasure or joy like when Y/n did it, but with pure repulsion.

And while Floris pretended very well, walking and smiling among the people, he just went back to the same corner with a vacant look, barely noticing that Daeron had disappeared and only Aegon was there watching him.

-Listen… - The older man sighed, staring at him. - This whole shit show is going to be over soon and then we can just go home and be quiet…

-Daddy… Daddy… - Jaehaerys arrived, pulling on the hem of Aegon's jacket. - I need to go to the bathroom!

-Just a second, little mouse… - Aegon looked around, looking for Daeron in the crowd, but couldn't find him.

-I know what you're doing and I don't need a babysitter. - Aemond practically growled, still looking in the direction of Y/n and Jason Lanister.

-Stop staring. - Aegon hissed, pulling the youngest to the corner. - It's already getting bizarre, people are noticing. -Mmmm. - He rolled his eyes, taking another glass of champagne.

-Daddy! - Jaehaerys called once again with a demanding voice and jumping with his eyes closed.

-Daddy's going, just a second, little mouse, I swear… - He smiled at the little one as he spoke softly, then turned to Aemond.

-I'll be back in five minutes. Try not to burn a hole in Lanister's forehead just with your withering glare in the meantime. - Aegon whispered hurriedly, then hoisted Jaehaerys by the armpits and picked him up in his arms, heading towards the bathroom.

-Idiot. - Aemond rolled his eyes in a bad mood as he watched his brother disappear into the hallway.

Aemond's blood was almost boiling in his veins. He watched Jason from afar with his body pressed against Y/n's while he murmured things to her, as if he had any kind of intimacy with her. Hatred made his stomach boil, and he gripped the stem of the champagne glass so tightly that it could very well break.

❦❦❦

Y/n's eyes were burning, she couldn't tell if it was from anger or jealousy, the only thing she knew was that seeing Aemond next to Floris Baratheon all handsome and hot while they took all those pictures of them made her want to jump on Floris and pull out every single strand of her hair.

The moment Floris Baratheon touched his chest and then kissed him on the chin in public just like she always did in secret, Y/n felt like an arrow of pure hatred had pierced her heart, and she had to hold herself back from crying in public.

But that's when her mind lit up and Y/n got even angrier, that wasn't Floris' fault. This was Aemond's fault. And if he thought things could be like that, she would give him a taste of his own medicine. At that very moment she swallowed all her anger and put on a mask of smiles and satisfaction for everyone around her.

And minutes later, when Jason Lanister asked her to dance again, unlike the other times, Y/n broke into a sweet smile and accepted the request. As she walked to the dance floor, she had to contain her victorious smile when she felt Aemond's gaze burning against her back. Y/n only forgot one thing, Aemond was not very good at being subtle when he was angry.

Jason was dancing very close to Y/n, certainly much closer than the music playing at the moment required. And she smiled and feigned satisfaction as she moved with him across the dance floor, when Jason spun them around and she could see Aemond and momentarily Y/n's heart raced. The look of murderous jealousy on his face almost made her moan in satisfaction.

And suddenly Jason spun her around again and she lost sight of him amidst the other people in the room. Jason got even closer and discomfort and repulsion took over Y/n when he firmly squeezed her ass, that was only good when Aemond did it.

But she didn't need to think about it twice, because she had barely finished thinking about what Jason had just done and Aemond had already pulled him off her by the arm with his face contorted in fury and punched him in the face making horrified screams ring out throughout the Ball.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries

Final notes:

Aegon blinked for a second and Aemond is finally going to attempt his murder! I hope you enjoyed it!! 💕💕

Next Chapter

[roboraindrop]

Hello friends! I'm doing a sort of commissions post in honor of my failing rent that is due. Basically, I need $500 before the end of the month. Normally I would Doordash for this, but because of repairs needed I can only use the car to drive to and from appointments and interviews right now. I'm kind of in a tight spot 😅

SO! I would love to draw for you! Any monochrome lineart or colored sketches of two characters are $20, for anything else the price can be discussed! Please feel free to reach out to me via messages here.

If you'd just like to help out, my c@sh@pp is $roboraindrop and my p@yp@l link is HERE. Literally anything helps, and I appreciate you taking the time to read very much 💕 Thank you!

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[koko-doodle]

*ahem* ATTENTION FAEU FANS

I am in need of your assistance.

I’m having so much fun drawing other people’s OCs, I’m getting the kind of sketching practice I need while also doing something to make someone smile. That’s the best part for me.

Some of the blogs I’ve dug through have several designs (*cough* me *cough cough*) and I don’t want to draw the wrong one.

So this is a call to action. I would like you to submit a reference sheet or drawing of your OC or Faesona to my inbox and I will be drawing them over the next little while. You can submit more than one character too, like if you have a sona and an oc go ahead and send both. Send me all the things! (Just one reference per character though, please don’t send 3 drawings for one character ☺️)

I can’t promise I will get to all of them but I will do as many as I can though. 💕

So you submit your art to my inbox (don’t tag me or send a DM please)

Then I will tag you when it is done and posted. >w<

The only thing I ask is for you to let me know what you think when it’s done. I’m trading art for smiles, is that fair enough?

🦋 Ready, GO! 🦋

*disclaimer*: I apologize now for any designs I butcher because my brain isn’t braining when drawing hairstyles and clothing. AND the FAEU belongs to valrayne-faeu AKA owl-bones and antlered-prince. I own nothing or take no credit for its amazingness.

[alanaartdream]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Alana Felicity Bochmann (@alanaartdream)

#drawing #sketches attempts at ideas on what older #fairlyoddparents #timmyturner #dannyphantom #dannyfenton we got off of butch with maybe my own ideas mix in; with Timmy there are still quite a few options that are up in the air with him; but with Danny butch made a few drawing videos on what’s happening with Danny Sam and Tucker in their futures (( apparently Danny and Sam get married and have 2 kids who inherited Danny’s ghost powers but one can teleport and the other can open portals and go wherever she pleases with these ghost portals of hers)) and Danny Phantom along with Sam and Tucker run a very good ghost hunting business and Tucker becomes Mayor of the tow/city they live in );; funnily Butch seems to like turning his protagonist’s into beef cakes and I normally don’t draw beef cakes kinda characters so this was a challenge to try to draw them

💀🧚‍♀️🧚🦄🍄‍🟫🍄🍀🐈‍⬛🐱✏️🌈🖍️🎨✍️🐾💕✨⭐️

Not joking here with his 1st 3 cartoon series he came up for nick he did designs where the protagonist gets a lot of muscle 💪

Fairly odd parents - Timmy has a few older versions of him where he gets tall and beefy (heck there was a teenager version of him that got mistaken for a teenage super model in one episode)

Danny Phantom- episode he had a beefy muscle evil version of himself show up and there is two YouTube videos by Butch himself has said being as Danny is fighting with ghosts so much he becomes super fit by age of 25 and right into his adult years so kinda makes cents Danny have alot of muscles

And then Tuff puppy the dog was draw super beefy as well

So in conclusion even though Butch isn’t running the show fairly odd parents a new wish anymore the people will have to take in SOME advice from Butch on how adult Timmy gonna be

And if they choose to do more with Danny Phantom they’ll have to get Butch’s input on where that show will go being as Danny phantom & fairly odd parents were his ideas

So where does this leave Timmy Turner? Well we have a couple of choices to go with him we can

We can have him getting adopted by Wanda Cosmo so become a fairy and grow up with peri poof

Of he grows up becoming a lawyer/ someone who works in child services so whatever happens to him as a kid doesn’t get as bad as it did for him / maybe writes books/comics being as he was quite the creative imagination and gets to keep his memory and helps fairyworld on the side while being married to toothie being as Unless Trixie learns to stop worrying about how others see her and just be herself I don’t really see a romantic relationship working out with her and Timmy; best they might become friends as teenagers being as they share interests in manga / comics and toothie will probably calm down with her affections towards Timmy but being as she’s only one who’s liked him even when he was ignored neglected abuse kid I see Timmy learning to appreciate that as he has the chance to grow; I’d see Timmy getting away from his parents as he gets older being as they’re kinda crazy dumb and a little totic ALSO helping Toothie get away from her sister Vicky being as they were both abused by Vicky as kids (and the adults in their lives did nothing to stop it; I mean I get Toothie’s parents were scared of Vicky but they couldn’t even protect their other child from her?)

Maybe Jimmy Timmy could still be friends and Jimmy and Cindy end up an item not sure

In my au I went with Timmy becoming a fairy and gets to hang out with nicktoons unite gang as a fairy and Danny and Jimmy do well for themselves in their own universes

Now with nicktoons

Danny met Jimmy and Tommy with they were both 10 years old and he was 14; and with SpongeBob he’s already a adult (although SpongeBob is a weird sea creature so not sure how sea sponges age at all not don’t think he changes as much as Jimmy Timmy and Danny do as they get older)

So trying to work with their ages is also something ones gotta work with as well as where the creators of their shows wanted to take their shows

Also in the nicktoons unite games they started adding in Danny’s friends Sam and Tucker as well as a few of SpongeBob’s friends; with Timmy though they only ever had was Wanda & Cosmo

If they were gonna make more games they’d have added poof/peri but don’t think they’d add more being as not many liked that dog and Cole

But far be it from me to stop anyone from shipping who they like but not comfortable with Danny being shipped with a sponge and then a super hero character who’s supposedly the same ages as Timmy and Jimmy were in their shows OR I could be wrong about El Tgrey show it’s been awhile from few episodes I got to see of that show (( not sure even how the sponge got shipped with Danny in the first place the age gap with those two is pretty big but then people use to ship bald with Danny so I guess people will ship anything;;; I’m just not comfortable with enther ship honestly more so being as Danny kinda ends with with Sam at the end of the original Danny phantom series so can’t see Danny with anyone else after that) )

Also with the nicktoons unite game el Tgrey never made it as a playable character in those games being as the show didn’t get to be as popular as Danny phantom Jimmy neutron Fairly odd parents and SpongeBob did but funnily enough Invader Zim did so Zim and Dib ended up joining the nicktoons unite games grated only in one game then they switch anther series main character to join the gang if the nicktoons unite games were to do anther huge crossover game I believe they’d add my teenage robot life kj9 Jenny as the next playable character being as like in today’s world people are complaining there isn’t enough female characters to play in games and being as the fandom for my teenage robot life is still going strong it feels more likely they’d add her; they’d most likely add in Sam tucker and that squirrel that SpongeBob likes into games again as well being as they did add them before

So will most likely have them in my au for Fairy Timmy and the nicktoons unite gang (also Jimmy Timmy becoming a thing in my au being a Cindy will mostly become good friends with Timmy and a reluctant friend of Jimmy)