#Unforgettable Golden Hits

[sytoran]

Could I request a Natasha x reader where R and Nat are driving home from a party but their car breaks down so they call someone to come help them fix it and while they’re waiting they fuck outside on the back of the car…strap on pls

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟎 — 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗

kinktober day 010 | milf!natasha x fem!mechanic!reader

natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night.

note. i might've changed the plot so R is the mechanic. trust me on that decision.

cont. strap-on use, daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

word count. 3435 (yall are getting fed)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

In her weathered thirties, Natasha had retired as an Avenger and chose a life that had always been nothing more than a distant dream. 

By adopting two beautiful children and becoming a mother, it was almost like she was flipping off the Red Room for what they had done to her. It was an act of justice, a long sought-after victory, throwing away her past but embracing the lessons it had taught her.

However, despite how much the future she carved for herself had changed, one thing hadn’t — and that was the people who had been by her side throughout her journey to normalcy.

Kate, that human embodiment of a golden retriever, was all about ‘bringing the Avengers together, old and new’, and ‘forging stronger bonds in the pursuit of justice’. Hence came the monthly parties that involved the wealth of Bishop Security, too much alcohol, and one too many bad decisions.

For Natasha, the party had spun out of control like a series of unfortunate events: From the raspberry martini Thor had spilled on her, to the ripped dress from a stupid dare from Rocket to climb the fence, and the incredibly awkward seven minutes in heaven with Bruce. 

Right now, the ex-Avenger wanted nothing more than to dive under the warm blankets and close her eyes and shut the world out. Go home to her two bundles of joy. Be engulfed in the warmth of comfort and release. Maybe even let Liho sleep on the bed for once.

She needs to get back home a little faster. Natasha accelerates.

Her eyes are on the road, gripping the steering wheel with a steely frown. The road is dark, the lamps are flickering. There’s a thought lingering in the back of her mind, like an itch that simply wouldn’t go away.

It was embarrassing to admit, but Natasha had done far worse: She was unarguably sexually frustrated. After saving the universe and transitioning into a life of motherhood, she hardly had any time to alleviate her stress in that kind of way.

Today was one of those days, then, where she would once again have to retreat into the confines of her shower and spend a little longer than she should. Or perhaps, dive under the sheets and reach into her bedside table for that plastic purple toy.

Natasha steps on the pedal a little harder. She accelerates again – the engine splutters.

"Fuck, shit, don't do this to me now," she growls, angrily slapping her steering wheel while a frown creases her eyebrows. 

It only takes the car three more streetlamps to absolutely die out on her, coming to a screeching halt, in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Comically, the sound of something fusing inside her engine follows right after.

Natasha lets the groan of frustration fall freely, forehead hitting the centre of the steering wheel. The resounding sound of the car honking echoes in the emptiness of the place, like a mockery of Natasha’s misfortune.

She climbs out of the car reluctantly, slowly lifting the bonnet open and staring blankly at the mechanical parts before her. 

Natasha was a woman of many capabilities, those of which included being able to assassinate three grown men with a pencil, speak fifteen languages fluently, raise two kids with an attitude more stubborn than hers, save the fucking world, in fact, but fixing cars was not one of them.

Gradually, the car parts in the engine began to look more and more like ancient hieroglyphs that Natasha would spend a lifetime trying to decipher.

She pulls out her cell phone to call someone for assistance, before realizing that basically all of her friends were likely piss-drunk at that stupid party, and would never pick up. (Okay, she also didn’t have a social life other than her ex-comrades in battle, but could you really blame Natasha?)

As the redhead closed her eyes, irritation danced in the darkness of her vision, flickering in specks of white and then burning red. Natasha resigns to her doomed fate.

Calling up the roadside assistance services would mean spending an insanely long amount of time waiting, then having her car towed to the auto-repair shop, henceforth allowing the mechanics there to actually fix up her car, and by the time she retreated into the warmth of her bedroom at home it would very much be far past midnight.

Pulling out her phone with a stately reluctance, Natasha searches up the nearest available mechanic services, dials in the designated number, and begins her wait for comfort and satisfaction.

***

If Natasha previously had any qualms or complaints about waiting for roadside assistance, her mouth was now sealed shut with lock and key. In fact, she would much rather let the mechanic that just arrived assist her in several other ways.

“Sorry for the wait, Ma’am, we were almost about to close shop,” you say, climbing out of the pickup truck then jumping down. 

You flick your hair out of your eyes and send a bright smile to your last client of the day, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on the woman. “I’m Y/N, happy to be at your service.”

Now, Natasha certainly had her own suspicions that she wasn’t entirely straight, but those queries had been confirmed within a good five seconds.

It was too cliche to be real, almost. Natasha swallows as her eyes rake over your tight-fitting white tank top that showed off the most stunning bodily anatomy she had ever seen, each muscle carved from a meticulous sculptor, dirtied cargo pants hanging loose to reveal the band of a pair of black boxers. 

“Ma’am?” you repeat, lifting up a heavy toolbox with one hand, failing to notice that Natasha’s gaze is glued on to the flexed muscles of your right arm.

“O-oh,” the ex-Avenger mumbles in embarrassment – Oh, Yelena would cackle to see her like this – “Sorry, what was your question?”

You only tilt your head and give her a polite smile. “I was asking what seems to be the issue with your car.” 

Natasha nods vigorously, then walks stiffly towards her car. Her clammy hands struggle to lift the bonnet for a moment, and in a second you’re next to her, single-handedly lifting the cover with a thoughtful smile.

Natasha feels the heat rush to her cheeks and she looks away quickly. She was acting like a lovesick high school girl, for God’s sakes. Get it together, she chides. 

When she looks back up again, you have a wrench in hand, twirling it around. Natasha has her eyes glued to your tattoos and the way your fingers spin the tool.

“I’ll loosen this up a bit, see what we’re dealing with.” You say, fastening the wrench into place. Natasha barely has time to nod her acknowledgement before her breath gets stolen from her again.

The muscle of your forearm ripples like a satisfying wave when you jerk the wrench, and Natasha’s breath gets stolen away by the wind. She watches as your fingers expertly wrap around the tool, your other hand gripping the front of the car, and your next effort has Natasha getting wetter in places she shouldn’t.

“I think this part needs to be oiled,” you say, your even voice hauling Natasha out of her erotic fantasy. You look at your client curiously, innocently gesturing towards the toolbox next to her feet. “Would you be an angel and hand me the oiler?”

Angel.

Natasha’s heart races as she bends down to pick up your toolbox. (Okay, she definitely bends down a little too far, but she feels your eyes glued onto her ass, and she considers that a victory.) When she hands you the toolbox, your fingertips graze over her hand, and Natasha’s breath hitches a little too obviously.

By some holy deity’s work, you don’t comment or react to her squeak of surprise, and instead begin oiling up the engine of the car. Natasha flushes a dark red. Your grasp had been calloused, because of course it would be, experienced with handling cars and being rough—

The electricity that had run through her veins from that second of contact was comparable to Thor’s Mjolnir.

You have a little mishap when pouring the oil, the tube sliding in your grasp, and the car oil squirts from the nozzle and onto your front. You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassment tinging the tips of your ears.

Natasha thinks it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, heart fluttering at your awkwardness. Once again, her libido catches up to her, and then Natasha’s eyeing your slick fingers (imagining it was a different type of slick), and the way your dampened shirt clung to your taut muscles.

Maybe you were doing it on purpose, too, facing Natasha as you lift up the hem of your shirt to squeeze out the oil. Her eyes feast on the hint of bare skin she can see, a defined V-line making itself known. 

“You don’t mind me working like this, I suppose?” you ask, a grin on your face. “I may look filthy, but I promise I’m excellent with my hands.”

“Show me, then,” Natasha replies loftily, almost second-nature with how the one-sided smirk creeps on to her face. Her skill of seduction was something that was ingrained into her bloodstream.

When you lay down onto the under-car roller and shift underneath the car to begin fixing it up, Natasha’s gaze darkens several hues and she lets her eyes roam over your body again.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off if she tried. She wanted to rake her nails over your taut muscles, watch them flex and ripple under her touch, hook her fingers in the belt-loop of your pants and tug it down—

—to see the unmistakable bulge on a strap-on in your boxers. Natasha licks her lips, zeroing in on the tantalizing sight. It looked big, even while hidden under the confines of your pants. She would take you so good, down her throat or up her cunt, until either of you orgasmed. 

Natasha gets lost in her thoughts, nearly drooling as she watched you work. Your tank top moved with every thrust of your arm into unscrewing a certain mechanical part, and the grease slid down the veins of your hands. 

The redhead has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip when you spread your legs for a more comfortable position, to stop herself from moaning out load. 

Natasha’s got it down bad, eyes once again on your bulge. Her panties are soaked, already, lewd thoughts flitting through her mind with every passing minute that you’re under there.

On the other hand, you were fighting a very different battle.

You weren’t stupid, no, not on any accounts. (Except for dating that one girlfriend who’d lit your auto-repair shop on fire when you broke up with her. But we don’t talk about past mistakes.) Right now, the woman you were attending to was none other than Natasha Romanoff.

Yes, the woman who had saved the universe. The woman who’d inspired you to say ‘fuck everyone else’ and chase your dreams. The woman on TV you’d spent more than a few nights thinking of, your hand in places you’d rather not specify.

More than that, you were quite sure that this woman, in a ripped dress that fucked your mind in ways it shouldn’t, wanted you to fuck her instead.

It was an uphill battle, your rationality versus your pathetic pretty-girl-want-to-fuck instinct. As you lay under Natasha’s car, working on the mechanical parts up there and getting grease all over your hands, you contemplated the reasons why logic was important.

Number One: Natasha Romanoff was an Avenger. If you pushed yourself onto her, she could very much knock you out before you could say ‘sorry’. As much as you prided yourself on your physique and brute force, you weren’t about to take on an ex-widow in a fight.

You look down for one second, as said woman steps a little closer to you, and you have to swallow to bite back an embarrassing sound. One of her hands was resting on your knee while you worked, and it took every cell of your existence not to start spasming under her touch.

Number Two: It was a violation of workplace guidelines. As much as the pay was shitty, you wouldn’t want to lose your job. You still had rent to pay, and you couldn’t keep hiding from your stick-in-the-ass landlord.

“Oh, that looks dirty,” Natasha comments, tone sultry as her hand creeps up higher on your leg. Your breath catches in your throat, grease staining your white shirt while your eyes quite nearly glaze over. 

I can show you dirty, your brain unhelpfully supplies, and you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear your head. 

Natasha, undetered, leans forward, chest grazing over your torso, the soft flesh of her breasts against your abdomen making your head spin.

Fuck, you just wanted to rip off her pretty dress and— Number Three: You were in public. Having sexual intercourse with your client right here and right now would likely end in a police report for vouyerism. Dingy apartment be gone, for you would be sleeping in a jail cell.

“M’kay, I’m done,” you announce, slapping the underside of the car as a sign of accomplishment. You purposefully slide out from under the car in one swift motion, allowing Natasha’s hand to graze over your muscled thigh.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when you looked up, though.

There Natasha Romanoff leant over your body, one hand inches away from the bulge in your pants, the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was leaning forward, exposing a cleavage that hung right above your torso, dark eyes surveying you.

Fuck, dark couldn’t even begin to describe it. Natasha’s gaze was like an icy blast and molten lava all at the same time: Her pupils were severely dilated, a spark dancing within it. The deep colours of her eyes were like a kaleidoscope, pulling you in, entrapping you in a haze of lust. 

It was entirely wanton, arousing, filthy. Her ruby-red lips curved into a vulture-like smirk, gaze trailing downwards to your body. Everywhere her eyes rested on lit a path of hellfire. Those sinful hands crept on to your bulge, splaying over your false cock as you exhale shakily.

Number Four: Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you were a full banquet service, all five courses, free of charge, complimentary champagne included. 

And honestly, was there really anything more important than that?

“Thanks for your help,” Natasha murmmurs, physically climbing onto you as you laid on the under-car roller. “Let me repay that kindness.”

You let out a strangled groan as Natasha pushes herself down onto you and kisses you, her hands sliding under your shirt to scrape at your abdomen. 

Oh, finally.

“Fuck,” you gasp against her eager lips, hands flying to palm at her ass as you deepen the kiss. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to yet, the only you were registering being the sweet mouth you were exploring and the intoxicating flowery scent of Natasha’s perfume.

Your hand cinches around Natasha’s neck like a vice-grip, your tongue invading the confines of her mouth, the rocking motions of your meeting mouths drawing long gasps and whines from Natasha.

Her hands, on the contrary, are relentless: From the sides of your face to your washboard abdomen, sharp nails marking you as if you’re hers. 

Having relinquished your power for long enough, you grab handfuls of Natasha’s ass and lift her up; You get up, too, a mess of entangled limbs as you throw her over your shoulder, kicking away the roller and moving to the bed of your pickup truck.

Natasha’s left dripping at your display of effortless strength. You hoist the two of you up onto the pickup truck, paradoxically carefully laying her down, and you stall for a moment.

“We’re so gonna get caught,” Natasha whispers with a stupid grin on her face.

She looks up at you with a breathtaking smile, twilight reflecting off her eyes, dancing in the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you. 

The pair of you were completely exposed to the midnight air, in the middle of nowhere, but if anyone were to drive past it would be blatantly obvious what was happening.

You smirk, tugging her dress off with an assured confidence. “Maybe,” you reason, thumbing at one of Natasha’s nipples so she arches off the surface with a breathy gasp. “Or maybe not,” you continue, a big hand sliding under Natasha’s lithe body to undo the clasp of her bra and toss it somewhere.

“Y/N!” Natasha squeaks, as your greedy hands massage the mounds of her breasts. “Did you throw my bra onto the road?”

You hum your approval cheekily, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the swell of her breasts and down to her soiled. “Yes, angel. I’ll pick it up later, bring it home with me to jerk off–”

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah, and I’ll— oh fuck, angel, your panties are fucking soaked. Not so innocent, hm?” You question with a dark smile, two fingers running over the outside of her undergarment, arousal sticking to your fingers.

You watch as the older woman before you flushes from head to toe. Strings of slick cling to your thick fingers, and you suck on them as Natasha moans lewdly. 

“I’ll let you taste it later, don’t worry,” you add helpfully, shucking down your own pants and boxers. The strap-on springs out, and Natasha’s drooly lips open to push out a shaky breath of arousal.

“Daddy,” Natasha says, instinctually, at the sight of your gloried muscles and the ivory strap that hung between your legs like it was made to do so.

Your grip on Natasha’s hips bruise, the term nothing new to you but so entirely different when it came from Natasha fucking Romanoff. The sense of pride that washed over you was nothing compared to the carnal desire to fill her up and make her scream your name.

“Oh God!” Natasha wails out, fingernails digging into your forearms as you slide the head of your cock inside her. It wasn’t the longest, but it was girthy, and Natasha’s hole was stretched out as you pushed slowly.

“Not God,” you pant into Natasha’s ear, slapping her ass as she cries out loud. “Daddy, hm?”

“Yes!” Natasha moans, legs wrapping around your huge muscled back as you begin to thrust. Her hands try to interlock behind your back for support, but your shoulderblades are so wide that she can’t even fully wrap her hands around it, and that fact leaves her even hornier than before.

You’ve got Natahsa pinned to the ground under your body, pounding so hard that the whole truck shakes. The grease from your clothes goes all over, slick and sweat coating the two of you, pleasured cries and low grunts emanating from the pickup truck.

The squelching sounds of her pussy are absolutely filthy, as you pound into her spongy spot like your life depended on it. 

“There, please!” Natasha wails, helplessly clinging on to your back as you bring her to a ferocious orgasm. Her legs kick under you, hook around the side of the truck as you jackhammer your hips into her pussy.

“Almost there already, angel?” You ask heatedly, mouth working on marking up her tits. One of your hands had both of Natasha’s wrist above her head, and the other was on her hips for support as you thrusted into her.

Your response comes in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Daddy!” Natasha moans out, filthy and drenched with desire. Her pleasured cry is so loud that it scares a flock of birds out of a nearby tree, and you flinch violently at the sudden sound of nature’s rustling leaves, like you forgot you were in public.

Natasha breaks out into a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, then moans again when another wave of orgasmic pleasure washes over her. That causes you to join in on the laughter, your cock jostling inside Natasha. She whines again, and you pepper kisses over Natasha’s sweaty forehead with nothing short of amused affection.

And that’s how the two of you end up entangled on the back of your pickup truck like lovesick fools, a mesh of sweaty and slick bodies, sounds of pleasure and laughter scaring away any other creature that might disrupt Natasha’s sought-after comfort and satisfaction.

requests are NOT open... i just received this request all the way back in february, and so here it is haha..... im sorry to that one anon 😭 reblog to save a life xx

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[pantherxrogers]

unforgettable - choi san x fem!reader

🧡 pairing: choi san x fem!reader

🧡 warnings: angst, reader and san are married with a son, possible mispelling of korean words for "mom" and "dad" (so sorry! please leave feedback in the comments), fluff, separation

🧡 summary: san kinda fucked up. you're still married but not totally convinced he can balance work and your family. you sent him away for a few weeks, but he can't live with that. you're unforgettable, and he'll do anything to get his family back together.

🧡 a/n: this is 100% inspired by the movie "obsessed" with beyonce and idris lmao. but there is absolutely NO cheating involved. or any mentions of cheating. only inspired by one scene lmao. iykyk. plus second-chance romance always hits different.

hope you guys enjoy! 😚

my masterlist

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"bubble, are you ready? daddy's here at the door!" you call into the house, angling your body away from your husband.

"i'm coming, mommy!" jun shouts, little footsteps echoing around in the background. you can tell he's in the toy room, trying to grab even more things than what you've already placed in his weekend bags.

"you look gorgeous, honey." the honesty in san's voice makes your heart flutter. but, you can't bring yourself to show it.

"okay, san," you mutter, trying to keep the grin off of your face. but, he knows you well. even if he can't see your face right now, he hopes his comment had some effect on you. because he really does mean it.

when you finally face him, emotion swirls in your chest. simply put, he looks good as hell. standing on your doorstep, the sunlight melts into his golden skin, accentuating his beauty. he's wearing his hair in your favorite style, obviously intentional. no one should look this sexy in a simple black shirt with jeans, but choi san always finds a way.

and it's hard for you to miss the wedding band still firmly in place on his left hand. you don't even realize you're smiling. but, of course, san does.

"you know it's my birthday on saturday, right?"

"you've only mentioned it a thousand times."

"have dinner with me?"

it's the same request you've heard repeatedly. but, he really is making more of an effort. san has always been a loving father and husband, but your marriage is in a rough spot right now.

before this comeback with ateez, he promised you that he'd make more of an effort to balance work and your family. but, the final straw was when he missed your son's piano recital. he's only five, but you'll never forget the disappointment on his little face when he saw san's empty chair.

so, you'd told him that you'd had enough. it might seem a little dramatic, but you needed to make a point. it's been three weeks since then. he's been staying with wooyoung. for san, every day has been torture. he wonders if you feel the same.

you're lost in thought when the soft patter of jun's footsteps get closer.

"omma, i'm ready!" his excited squeal makes your heart burst. you turn around to scoop him up, planting him on your hip. you try to close the door on san, but he sticks his boot in the way. with a little grunt, you face him again, cradling your son.

"hi junebug! you've gotten even bigger since yesterday!" san exclaims, prompting a giggle from your son.

you love the way they light up in front of each other. the love between them is palpable. you've never once questioned his love for you or your son. but sometimes love isn't enough.

"hi appa!" his squishy arms reach for his father, who smoothly takes him from you. san's touch leaves gooesbumps on your skin, which makes pride swirl in his chest. no one could ever deny the chemistry between the two of you.

"i'll be right back. let me go grab his bags," you explain, turning to walk back into the house.

you feel san's eyes on you. he's talking animatedly with your son, but it's impossible to ignore the way he shamelessly checks you out. you smirk to yourself, retreating further into your shared home.

okay, so maybe you wore this outfit on purpose. but, who can really blame you? after all, you don't want your marriage to end. but you want him to make some real changes. wearing his favorite sundress might be a little over the top, but who gives a damn. a little tease never hurt anyone. judging from the way his eyes roamed all over you, it's safe to say san doesn't mind.

making your way back towards the door, you struggle to hold all of the bags. your son always insists on bringing so many toys with him, even if he's only staying with his dad for a few days,

"hold on champ, let me help mommy," he murmurs, placing your son down. both of them make their way over to you, san smoothly grabbing everything. your son looks a little pouty, always wanting to prove his strength.

"appa, i can help too," he whines, tugging on san's denim.

"i know, buddy. but, i want you to have your arms free to give omma a hug," he explains. this time you're unable to keep the fond smile off of your face.

"c'mere june bug," you hum, sweeping him into a bear hug. you press several kisses on his squishy cheeks, delighting in his happy little squeals.

"i love you, bubble," you whisper, trying to fight the wobble in your lip. san's heart breaks a little bit. he knows neither of you will ever be able to get used to this. and he doesn't want you to. it's just more motivation to get his family back together.

you hug jun tightly before lowering him back to the ground, leading him and san towards the door.

"he'll be back before you know it." the warmth in san's voice makes you smile. he always knows what to say when you need it most.

"i know. i'm just a big crybaby," you whisper, not wanting jun to notice your sadness.

"no. you're just a great mom," he answers honestly, locking eyes with you. it's a direct hit, cracking through the tough exterior you try to put up around san. but maybe you don't want to anymore.

"c'mon bud, let me get you buckled in." san turns his attention to your son, heading out towards the suv he arrived in.

you stand at the door, watching your son babble to his father, likely filling him in on everything he got up to in the last 24 hours. san nods along enthusiastically, hanging on his every word. he puts the bags in the trunk, freeing up his hands to strap jun into the car seat. he jogs to the front seat, turning the car and ac on, before he lets jun's window down.

"bye omma!" his little voice carries across the yard. you make a show of blowing a kiss to him, which he grabs and holds near his heart. you wave and turn your attention to san before the waterworks start again.

to your suprise, he's jogging over to you, one hand behind his back. when he stops in front of you, he reveals a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a small white note sticking out the top of it.

"um?"

"beautiful flowers for my beautiful lady." his shameless flirting makes your cheeks heat up again, feeling like a school girl with a crush. instead of responding, you reach for the note.

have dinner with me? don't make the birthday boy eat alone.

you don't hide your smile this time, looking up to see the bright blush on his cheeks.

"bribing me with your birthday now?"

"you're the only gift i want."

you forget how to breathe for a second, the seriousness in his tone takes you back. regaining your composure, you respond with a curt nod.

"i'll have dinner with you, san" you state, unable to say no to him. and why should you? he really has been making more of an effort. taking off time from work to stop by and see jun (and you, of course).

he does a little victory dance, handing the flowers over to you. he's just as silly as ever, and you can't help but giggle at his antics.

"so, i'll pick you up saturday at 8?"

"i'll call the sitter."

"don't sweat it. woo would die if he knew we paid someone else to watch jun." you giggle again, unable to hide your giddiness. you really do miss laughing and joking with him like this. maybe you're more excited for dinner than you're letting on.

"okay, i'll spare him. i'll see you saturday," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes. san sweeps one last glance over you, like he's committing it to memory and storing it away until he can see you again.

"i'll see you saturday, baby."

[jeusussavearmyveteran1205]

Ever wondered what made Wolfman Jack such an unforgettable voice on the airwaves? Known for his gravelly voice and eccentric personality, Wolfman Jack wasn't just a DJ; he was a cultural phenomenon.

Born Robert Weston Smith in 1938, he crafted his Wolfman persona by blending rock 'n' roll with a wild, energetic delivery that captivated listeners across the United States. His broadcasts in the 1960s and 1970s were an eclectic mix of music, humor, and theatrics, making him a beloved figure in the radio world.

One of the keys to Wolfman Jack's success was his ability to connect with his audience. He made listeners feel like they were part of an exclusive club, with his late-night shows providing a soundtrack for their adventures. His distinctive howl and playful banter set him apart from other DJs of the time.

Wolfman Jack's influence extended beyond radio. He appeared in films like "American Graffiti" (1973), where he played himself, cementing his place in pop culture history. His television appearances on shows like "Midnight Special" in the 1970s brought his dynamic style to a broader audience, proving his versatility as an entertainer.

His unique style wasn't just about the music; it was about the experience. Wolfman Jack's shows were an audio journey, filled with surprises and a sense of spontaneity that kept listeners coming back for more. Whether he was spinning the latest hits or sharing amusing anecdotes, his charisma and enthusiasm were infectious.

Wolfman Jack's legacy lives on as a symbol of the golden age of radio. His innovative approach and larger-than-life persona paved the way for future generations of broadcasters, ensuring that his howl will echo in the annals of radio history forever. He continued to influence the airwaves until his death in 1995, leaving behind an indelible mark on the industry.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

Introduction

The 1968 Dodge Charger R/T stands as an enduring symbol of American muscle car history. With its distinctive design, powerful engine options, and thrilling performance, this legendary vehicle has captured the hearts of car enthusiasts for generations. In this article, we’ll take a closer look at the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T, exploring its history, specifications, and the enduring appeal that makes it a true automotive icon.

The Birth of a Legend

The story of the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T begins with its debut during the golden age of American muscle cars. Dodge, a brand known for its commitment to performance, introduced this model to compete with other muscle car giants of its time. The Charger R/T was an instant hit, thanks to its sleek, aerodynamic design and powerful engine options.

Design and Styling

Striking Exterior

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

One of the most distinctive features of the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T is its unforgettable exterior design. The fastback roofline, hidden headlights, and full-width grille give it an aggressive and unmistakable presence on the road. It was a design ahead of its time, setting trends that would influence future generations of muscle cars.

Luxurious Interior

While the Charger R/T was known for its performance, it didn’t compromise on comfort and luxury. The interior featured high-quality materials, bucket seats, and a driver-oriented cockpit. This combination of style and comfort made it a versatile car, equally suitable for daily driving and spirited weekend getaways.

Heart-Pounding Performance

Engine Options

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

Under the hood, the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T offered a range of powerful engines. The most iconic choice was the 440 Magnum V8, producing a whopping 375 horsepower. For those seeking even more power, the legendary 426 Hemi V8 was available, delivering an astonishing 425 horsepower. These engines ensured that the Charger R/T lived up to its reputation as a high-performance machine.

Thrilling Performance

With its potent engines and well-tuned suspension, the Charger R/T delivered an exhilarating driving experience. It could accelerate from 0 to 60 mph in under 7 seconds, a remarkable feat for its time. The combination of raw power and precise handling made it a favorite among drag racers and car enthusiasts.

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

Enduring Popularity

Cultural Impact

The 1968 Dodge Charger R/T wasn’t just a car; it became a cultural icon. Its appearances in movies and television shows, most notably in “Bullitt” and “The Dukes of Hazzard,” cemented its status as a symbol of American automotive excellence. Even today, the Charger R/T continues to inspire filmmakers and car enthusiasts alike.

Collector’s Item

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

In the world of classic cars, the Charger R/T holds a special place. Its limited production numbers and timeless design have made it a sought-after collector’s item. Restored and well-maintained models can fetch impressive prices at auctions, reflecting the enduring demand for this iconic muscle car.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T remains a timeless classic in the world of American muscle cars. Its bold design, powerful engines, and cultural significance have ensured its place in automotive history. Whether you’re a car enthusiast or simply appreciate the beauty of a well-crafted automobile, the Charger R/T is a vehicle that continues to captivate and inspire.

1968 Dodge Charger R/T

FAQs

Is the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T still in production? No, the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T is not in production today. It is a classic car from the late 1960s.

What is the price range for a well-maintained Charger R/T from 1968? The price of a well-maintained 1968 Dodge Charger R/T can vary widely, but it often falls within the range of $50,000 to $100,000 or more, depending on the model’s condition and rarity.

How fast can the Charger R/T accelerate from 0 to 60 mph? The Charger R/T could accelerate from 0 to 60 mph in under 7 seconds, thanks to its powerful engine options.

What are some notable appearances of the 1968 Dodge Charger R/T in pop culture? The Charger R/T is famous for its appearances in movies like “Bullitt” and “The Dukes of Hazzard,” where it played iconic roles.

Were there any special editions of the 1968 Charger R/T? Yes, Dodge offered special editions and performance packages for the Charger R/T, including the 426 Hemi engine option, which was a favorite among enthusiasts.

[g-xix]

☁️Return from Sri Lanka | ArthurTV

The sound of keys slotting into the door - the metal on metal you'd usually clench your teeth in anger upon hearing - alternately kindled explosions within your stomach, like little kernels popping into bubbles of elation and excitement as the keys turned in the apartment door.

Instantly you were up on your feet, throwing the duvet one way and skidding around the corridor in fluffy socks that would've almost definitely had you slipping over the hard floors, if not for the ecstatic sprint that carried you to the door.

The moment the door was pushed open - just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of a person behind it - you'd already jumped to close the gap.

Knocking the air out of him, you launched past the threshold and wrapped your arms around his middle, knocking the air out of him as you buried your head against his chest. With a huff of exertion upon having the wind knocked from his body, Arthur felt his waist being completely squished by your grip as you bundled him in a nearly bone-crushing hug - yet still the surge of oxytocin urged him to wrap his own arms around your shoulders, reciprocating your love as he felt the same smile blooming across his lips. All too happy to find himself within your arms all over again.

"I missed you, baby..."

You knew that it'd be straining when Arthur told you that Chip had asked him to go to Sri Lanka for a week for a video. And yet you hadn't considered quite HOW straining it'd be until day four hit, and you were spooning ice cream into your mouth at three am and watching Arthur's old videos on a phone screen under a blanket, sniffling and waiting to see a typing... notification to pop up with Arthur's name the subject.

Yet the feeling of Arthur's white cotton tee-shirt against your cheek, radiating his own body warmth through the thin material made everything feel complete again. The feeling of his arms pressing you into his body, curled so domestically perfectly and holding you so tightly that you could feel each defined muscle of his pecs to his lower abs through the shirt against your own body took your mind away from those lonely nights and filled you with such a sense of solace and wholeness that Arthur was with you again. 

"I can tell"

You laughed into his shirt, letting your forehead rest against his body as you took a deep breath to calm your whirring mind - the sole thought of Arthur and nothing else ricocheting around your brain - though Arthur's unforgettable scent simply filled your lungs with the deep inhale, only further fuelling your Arthur-centric thoughts. 

"I missed you too, gorgeous..."

That scent of pine and familiar cedar flooded your senses and filled your lungs, filling your circulatory system with nothing but nostalgia and fullness at that accustomed aroma you'd missed so much whilst he'd been gone.

You could feel every individual molecule of your body tingling like a firework, ready to explode into millions of colourful glittering specks as you pulled away from the hug - hands still attached to either elbow so that you could look up and admire your boyfriend live in the flesh, for the first time in what'd been a long week for the both of you.

"Fucking beautiful."

He was the one who said it, but you were the one who felt it as you took your sweet time looking over Arthur's face, savouring every sweet minute detail as though you were memorising a picture you never wanted to forget. 

Jet-lagged, scruff grown out into a fuller stubble, hair messy and sticking up in all directions - he was still the most gorgeous man you could ever imagine to lay eyes upon. His skin had a golden glow to it from the time he'd spent abroad - his pupils blown out and still demurely doe shaped, lips still their perfectly irresistible pink, illuminated with the warm white lamp which only highlighted the subtle curve of his triceps peaking out from beneath the white 'manwhore'  shirt, as you'd dubbed it. 

"I don't think I've ever been happier to see somebody in my life."

"Would you believe me if I said that's exactly what I was just thinking?"

You never realised what the phrase music to my ears meant until that moment, Arthur's voice calming every jumpy nerve within your body with his mellifluously husky voice. His voice sounded like honey being grated. So smooth, as though it belonged in a symphony - and yet gravelly and rough like a sandpapered morning voice. That harmonious juxtaposition that completed itself to make the sweetest sounds that could lull you to sleep whilst also simultaneously get you on your knees in seconds.

Not that giving head was concurrent in your mind as you basked in Arthur's presence lovingly for the first time in what you realised was undeniably too long.

"You don't understand just how happy I am to be home with you," Arthur sighed contentedly, letting his arms slacken and his backpack drop to the floor, warm smile on his face as he stepped through the door and locked it behind him, too.

You couldn't have been happier to have him back.

Seeing his gorgeous face, smelling his delectable aftershave, hearing that grated-honey voice - you'd mentally ticked off how each sense was stimulated by Arthur - and yet just one final one was needed noting, and lucky for you, Arthur had already beaten you to it.

You squealed as Arthur's hands found your hips, easily sweeping you off the ground and pulling you close to him instead - your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as he lifted you up. 

His lips crashed into yours, a fucking frenzy of fireworks and passion igniting a wildfire within your core, his soft and cocoa butter flavoured lips moving so desperately against yours that you felt no shame in the way you bit his lower lip back - chasing his taste, his touch, his everything as your lips moved synchronously against one another.

Your hands running through his fluffy brunette locks, only spiking and messying them up more, his hands supporting your weight by sitting shamelessly on your ass - there was undeniable yearning between the two of you as neither backed down or separated even as you struggled for oxygen.

Only when Arthur's lashes tickled your cheek, you couldn't stop yourself from breaking the kiss to let out a laugh, almost unbelieving that Arthur was back already.

"God, I missed you."

"Let me make it up to you then..."

"Harry Potter marathon until we fall asleep, together?"

"My gosh, I missed you too."

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

Ahh ATV fluff, we love to see it‼️‼️‼️ Hope that's fulfilled your goofy lil atv dreams for a while everyone :]]

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

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[kirikorik]

- And yet you left me. - And yet I left you. You'll never forget…

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Summary: You loved each other when you were teenagers, then he ran away, and now he's back again, and no matter how much you try to avoid him, you won't succeed... After many years, you receive an invitation to a party in honor of Joost's loss at Eurovision.

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 16+! Triggers! Violence! Sexualization! Sexy theme! Not canon! The story is not reality and everything except the known facts is my fantasy!

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

The party is in full swing. The sounds of electronic music are hitting your ears, but you are laughing happily, feeling the vibration in your chest. You are a little drunk, you want to relax a little after work, so you replace your drink with a new one and go further to the dance floor to forget yourself this evening. This party was a celebration of losing.

Just a few days ago, Eurovision ended, Switzerland won with some damn singer. You had nothing against the performer from this country, but you were still bitter and offended for what you did to the «main star» of this party. Joost Klein was expelled. He could have easily won, the vote ratings in his honor were skyrocketing. People liked his songs, his style, people liked him as a person. But the truth is that people couldn't help but like Joost. He was something of a cherished dream. Unattainable and too mundane. The guys wanted to be friends with him, the girls just wanted him. And yet he was excluded from Eurovision, and now Joost was celebrating his loss, his lost dream…

You raise your hands, the flashing lights in front of your eyes spin, sweat rolls down your forehead. The room is hot and stuffy, but you don't care. You don't care. Your only dream is that this evening will never end and that you will never see Joost again. But he's like a ghost, a silhouette shining in the golden light. Joost is irresistible from the tips of his snow-white hair to his bottomless blue eyes.

The crowd is moving, changing, and no matter how much you blink, you still see only him in front of you. He has white paint on his face, black circles around his eyes, he's wearing his favorite makeup, which makes your legs give way. He looks so fake… Joost is unpredictable. Joost is crazy. Joost… You're fucking in love with him.

Someone steps on your foot, but you don't care. You close your eyes painfully and swear to yourself that you won't open them until dawn today. So as not to see his silhouette, so as not to hear his voice in the songs tickling your ears, so as not to feel his hot palms on your ribs, so as not to cry from how hard his nails dig into your skin. He's standing behind you, snuggling up to you, dancing to your rhythm. He is tall, even very tall, so casually he puts his chin on top of your head and slows down to the beat of his music, as if you are dancing not to loud, rhythmic hip-hop, but to the melody accompanying your unforgettable waltz. People are drunk and don't notice you. You don't want to think about whether it's a dream, whether you feel his touch. You take a deep breath…

You and Joost weren't friends, but you were definitely more than just acquaintances. You've known him for most of your life, ever since you went to school, when you lived next door to him. Joost Klein is a naughty, arrogant wretch. — that's what your parents used to say. Joost Klein was a couple of years older than you, and you were forbidden to communicate with him, but, to tell the truth, you didn't even know him. You often watched from the window of the children's bedroom as he played ball with his father and older brother, but you were always afraid to approach them. Your parents never paid enough attention to you.

Once in childhood, your mother ordered you to put on black clothes. But you didn't listen and chose a white shirt with red hearts. Of course, no one told you that it was very important, your parents ignored you. Standing at the funeral of Joost's father, who died of cancer, you realized what a mistake you had made. Joost looked into your eyes without blinking, as if he had known you for a long time. He probably hated the scarlet hearts on your shirt. You tightened your grip on your mother's hand and lowered your tear-stained gaze to the ground.

He was thirteen, and you were a couple of years younger and didn't understand much when an ambulance arrived at your neighbor's house a year later. You didn't understand much when a body covered with a black cloth was carried out of the house on a stretcher. You didn't understand much when the white-haired boy jumped out after the doctors, screaming loudly and heartbreakingly. You didn't understand much when Joost's older brother held him in his arms, comforting him. You didn't understand a lot, but bitter tears were rolling down your cheeks. You never saw Miss Klein again.

You're afraid, but you still lean back against Joost's wide, sweat-soaked chest, cling to him as if for the last breath of air, but you don't open your eyes even when his right palm begins to slide over your cheek. He knows that you won't dare to look at him, and yet he's watching your face intently in the hope of seeing at least something.…

When Joost returned to school a few months later, he was smiling as if nothing had happened. As if his heart didn't hurt unbearably much. Then, looking at him from around the corner, you promised to share his pain with him. Being the only viewer of his YouTube channel, you, as the most devoted fan, listened attentively to all his speeches. You left likes on his videos, wrote comments, it seemed like you knew everything about him. You weren't sure if Joost at least remember your name.…

When you turned 15, you often watched at night as Joost ran away from home, as each time he was picked up by the same dark blue car with his friends. You dreamed of going to the same place where Joost went one day. He always returned just before dawn, always with a drunken sincere smile on his lips, always happy. Was he happy? Even a fool would have realized that it wasn't.

Your hips move in a slow rhythm to the right and left, Joost pressing his pelvis against you follows your every movement, exhaling hotly into the back of your head, making you tremble and tremble…

You remember the horror reflected on your face when you looked into someone else's blue eyes. So similar to Joost's eyes… A brunette twice your size was pinning you to the wall with his body… It's the first time you've run away from home after your adult friends. The guy standing in front of you was Joost's classmate, one of his best friends. But, nevertheless, it was he who persistently groped you, drunkenly muttering something and ignoring your tears, running his hands under your short skirt. The room is dark, music is blaring outside the door, no one will hear you.…

A calloused palm squeezes your thin neck, interrupting you breathing for a few moments, and then sliding back to your cheekbone. Your ears are blocked, you can't hear the music and Joost's ragged breathing over your temple. He doesn't say a word, but you understand everything and therefore drink the remaining alcohol in the glass at a time. There's no way you're going to listen to him. Do you want to forget about the existence of Joost Klein… And yet you're at his party. And yet you responded to his invitation, but not to the bell.…

You swallow back tears, mumble something about your parents, about your mother, beg him to stop and not touch you. But other men's hands are not listening to you, lifting up your short top. Other people's lips wetly kiss your neck, nibble your shoulders. You try to push Joost's friend away, but you can't do anything, he's older and twice your size, stronger…

You dig your nails into Joost's forearm, trying to stop him and forbid him to stop. You pray that he doesn't stop, and you hope that you're dreaming all this.

The flash is followed by a loud bang and swearing. Dirty alien hands are letting you go. You shiver and cling to the wall, staring wide-eyed at the floor. Your fingers lower the edge of your skirt, wanting to cover your body as much as possible. You're almost hysterical, and when someone else's hands fall on your shaking shoulders again, you shudder violently, raising your head sharply. Joost is standing in front of you. Pale. He seems very scared. There are drops of blood on his cheekbone, the knuckles of his right hand are broken, and his best friend is lying unconscious on the icy floor next to you. But he hugs you with trembling hands and prays that you will be all right. His sweet lonely neighbor, who seems to know everything about him and at the same time nothing at all. Joost was not a fighter, he was not an athlete, and although in junior high he often fought with other children, as he got older, he completely forgot about it. And yet, when he saw you in tears, his fists automatically clenched. He was only thinking about how to protect you. — It's time for us to go home. He says softly, before borrowing an old navy blue car from a friend and taking you away.…

You hate him. You hate it as much as you hate yourself. But for Joost, you are the most valuable, the closest. You're what he always wants, but his hands only touch you when he's drunk. His lips don't know the taste of your lips. His eyes have never seen your naked body. Although he would be willing to give a lot if you told him at least once — yes. You loved him. He knew it, but it was all terribly ridiculous, almost disgustingly funny.

It's cold in the car, it smells like weed and alcohol. Joost doesn't seem to have a driver's license. But you don't even think about it, clinging to the car window and shivering in the front seat. Joost's doesn't look at you, but he's gripping the steering wheel tightly. An oppressive silence fills the interior of the car, and only occasionally your short sobs scare the two of you.

— Bastard… — you whisper softly, bringing your hands back and painfully digging your nails into Joost's scalpel, tangling your hands in his snow—white hair. You think he doesn't hear your words, but Just just chuckles softly and snuggles closer to you.

You don't say a word to each other when your parents meet you at the door of the house more angry than scared, you want to hate Joost for telling your parents everything. But it seems that the contempt in the eyes of your mother and father in Joost's direction is enough for you two.

— Y/n… — he drunkenly mutters your name…

You're under house arrest, and all you have is a view of his house from the window. You cry, remembering everything that happened, and you can't contain your anger when you see Joost climbing out of his room window again late at night. But the car in the yard is already a different color: scarlet, expensive and shiny, and a tall brunette is driving… There is disappointment in your heart, pain in your soul…

His hands tickle your ribs, stroke your waist, pity your body. Joost is unpredictable, like the first snow in October or the last in May. He comes unexpectedly, bursts into your life without any warning, as if you've been waiting for him for a long time. Have you been waiting for him? In response, you are silent, but your trembling hands stroke his cheekbones, slide along his neck while you press your back against his chest. You arch in the small of your back and hear your bones crunch, but it doesn't hurt you, just a little bit.

He smiles, it seems to sparkle and happily at his new girlfriend, a fateful brunette his high school classmate. She is one of the most beautiful girls in school: rich parents, good reputation, excellent grades. Joost is her opposite, but opposites eventually attract, don't they? You bite the inside of your cheek, talking to your friends, but your eyes are glued to the newly minted couple cooing at the entrance to the chemistry room…

— Why again? — you mumble, knowing the answer perfectly well…

When you see them naked in Joost's bedroom through the window of your house, something inside dies. You cry loudly, wipe your tears into your pillow, swallow your sobs and hope that everything will end soon.…

— I promised you, — Joost replies with an ironic laugh, whispering in your ear. Your skin is covered with goosebumps, and tears come to your eyes again.

You're drunk again, you ran away from home again, but now you have a reason for it — non-reciprocal love. There is a fog in my head, a picture floats before my eyes, how you joyfully rush into the arms of some unknown guy. Now you're 16, now you can. Someone's lips are sliding down your neck, somewhere in your head your mind is screaming at you to run, whispering that you don't want this. Your heart squeezes painfully in my chest, and your watery eyes are filled with memories of that damn night when Joost's ex-best friend tried to force you… You feel sick, sick and…

— Do you remember the night I promised I'd never leave you? — that damn grin that suits Joost so well doesn't leave his lips while he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck. Maybe you'll finally come to terms, maybe you'll finally give a damn and just say — yes?

Your head is spinning, and your legs don't hold you at all when long-familiar male hands, covered with ridiculous tattoos, pull you out of someone else's arms. You want to scream, but you just melt under the influence of a few bottles of alcohol and obediently follow Joost through the crowd. Somewhere behind you, you hear a woman screaming. The scream of that brunette bitch, that's what you called her.

— You were very drunk, crying and begging me not to leave you, remember? — Joost is circling you in his arms, hoarsely and insistently, without stopping whispering…

You're screaming. Loudly, tearing his throat out as the car leaves the city. Joost doesn't say a word, he's mad as hell, and except for the look in his eyes — «I told you never to go to high school parties again.» — You can't see anything anymore.

— I'd like to forget… — you see bright lights through your closed eyelids.…

It's night outside, the sky is overcast, and you can't see the moon or the stars, only the headlights of a damn car you know illuminate the road. Joost is looking at you, right into your eyes. His face is young without wrinkles and although his life has been hard, he still has naivety in his soft features. His white fluffy hair, always sticking out in different directions is wet. His white T-shirt is stuck to his chest, he breathes loudly, pulls his light eyebrows together and shushes through his teeth… In all the years that you've known each other, you've never had a normal conversation. But it doesn't seem to be necessary for any of you when you impulsively approach him and find his lips at random. You're fucking drunk giving Joost your first kiss. Joost doesn't push you away, and you beg him never to leave you again, he swears he won't leave you.…

— You'll never forget… — the blond man laughs slyly, resting his chin on your shoulder, you can feel his heart beating in his chest with your shoulder blades, and you want to tear out your own.…

A ringing slap in the face tears the air with a pop. The fatal couple, consisting of an failed singer, a party lover and the obedient daughter of rich parents, breaks up right in the hallway of the school. Now Joost's ex-girlfriend slaps him in the face. It's painful. But instead of at least saying something to her, Joost looks sideways with his icy blue eyes at you…

— Never… — you stutter, and tears come to your eyes… It's not even fair…

You have never said words of love to each other, never swore eternal feelings and promised nothing. You did not meet, did not touch each other, only with glances, only in whispers, only with short poems and songs.

— Never… — he whispers in response to your words, but the music interrupts him.…

And after that, Joost drops out of school, just leaves without even finishing his studies, he doesn't tell you a damn thing, just disappears after your long nights on the hood of his battered car, when you watched the stars with such love, each other…

You beg him to tell you why when he's packing his bags. You ask him to explain to you why when he buys train tickets. You whisper, «What about me?» When he just sighs softly and obediently turns away and goes deep into his house. You do not dare to follow him.

— And yet you left me… — you say, laughing softly, with irony, as lonely tears roll down your cheeks.

A few hours before his flight, you call him on the phone, ignoring the screaming music behind you, the laughter of people and… Joost knows perfectly well where you are, but only listens silently to your drunken pleas to come back, pick you up from this damn party, as he always did. Take you home and take care of you. Joost hangs up, you try again, you text him with loud sobs: — «Damn bastard, I love you!» — But it never reaches him, and a notification is displayed on your phone screen: «The contact blocked you.»

— And yet I left you. — Joost confirms your words. There's no need to lie, you both know everything.

The house opposite is now empty, you will no longer find any of the members of the little Klein family. And neither his friends nor classmates know where he is. After six months, you give up and stop looking for him…

— I was looking for you. — you're not lying, and, to tell the truth, all those five years that you were so far from each other, you kept looking for him. You kept looking until one day you came across a song with a familiar voice on the radio. You were ready to die to those damn lines: «Hearts on her shirt, kisses on her cheeks. Tears, behind which the eyes are not visible, she screamed after: You swore! And I blocked her contact with a bitter smile on my lips.»

— I'm sorry. — the only thing he says, and you don't know if he's really sorry, but you just nod. Tears are already streaming down your cheeks…

— I hate you. — your hands drop, and you finally open your eyes, which are glistening with tears, but still don't turn around.

— It's not true! — Joost exclaims almost resentfully in your ear and jerks you sharply.

In the five years that he was gone, you tried to live without him. You graduated from high school with honors and entered a prestigious university. You forbade yourself to listen to songs and all the art, it reminded you of only one person you've known for a long time.

Your tear-stained eyes express neither hatred nor contempt, only deep resentment when you meet the gaze of clear blue irises. Joost is still the same, although he is five years older. He's 26 now, and your age difference doesn't seem that surprising. Blond tousled hair, the same as before but shorter. Bright eyebrows, the same as eyelashes. He has grown a short beard and a small mustache above his plump lips, but it suits him. He smiles and… It's still the same smile. A smile you haven't seen in so long. And the smile you've been in love with for so long.

Joost suffered and tortured himself all these five years, but he knew that it was necessary, he knew that otherwise his dreams would not come true. Sacrifices were required, and unfortunately, on the way to his success, the first and biggest obstacle was you, and he decided that before it was too late, before things went too far, he needed to leave. But he loved you, loved you all these years, and you can't count the countless drafts and tracks that he wrote for you, but without releasing them in the hope that one day, when he returns, you will forgive him and listen to all these hundreds of tracks dedicated only to you with him. He had a lot of albums with your name on them.

— I don't want to see you anymore… — you mumble, your gaze slides down. You don't want to see his painted face anymore, he always hid behind the mask of his openness. But you knew how his heart could ache, how his hands could tremble, what his needy hugs could be. He needed you as much as you needed him, and yet…

Joost's eyes narrow, he shakes his head with a slight understanding smile on his lips, and then bends lower knowing that you will not pull away and whispers monotonously and hoarsely:

— Liar. — Joost concludes the verdict, crawling with his fingertips under your short top, wanting to feel you closer, wanting you…

— Which one of us is a liar here? — you laugh ironically and put your hand behind his head, tangling your fingers in his blond hair, they feel as soft as before and if you close your eyes you can probably believe that five years is not so much.

— Forgive me, honing(Honey)… — he does not dare to look into your eyes, even though you are looking for his gaze.

The crowd around you is pushing, jumping and shouting something loudly, the bright flashes of the spotlights hurt your eyes, make them water. You feel dizzy, your chest hurts, your legs can't hold you, and if it weren't for Joost's firm grip on your waist, you would have fallen. You wouldn't mind being trampled by a crowd. You wouldn't mind not seeing his face anymore, not feeling the air saturated with his scent…

And yet you can't take your eyes off his makeup, from his plump lips mutilated by a bitter smile. Even if he was regretting it wasn't that he left and left you. But he was definitely regretting for you.

— You know what, I won't forgive you, — you snort, biting your lip. Regret has long settled in your heart, and now, except for tears and aching pain, you can't seem to feel anything else.

— I know you hate me, — Joost freezes in front of your face, looks straight into your eyes, exhales hotly on your cracked, bleeding lips. — I know you love me. — he has an apologetic smile on his lips, but he doesn't regret anything when he touches your lips with a sweet kiss soaked in poison. You don't regret anything, biting his lips in return. The kiss is sour from the taste of blood, salty from the bitter tears rolling down your cheeks, and yet it's the only thing you want from each other.…

The sound of music is deafening, but your heart is beating much louder and your chest is constricted much more than from the touch of his lips. Joost pulls you to him, hugs you tightly, circles you, takes you out of the room. You know that tomorrow won't come. Joost's eyes are clear, clear, blue, almost transparent, so similar to the cloudless sky you looked at as a child. Behind the veil of tears, your eyes look like the cloudy sky that Joost looked at, holding back tears, at his father's funeral. And yet you whisper love to each other, and yet you beg not to leave.…

The loud, ear-piercing ringing of the alarm clock makes your heart skip a beat. You jump up clutching your aching head. The alcohol you drank yesterday makes itself felt and you slide back onto the soft pillow, smearing your bedroom with a blurry look. Fortunately, at least you are at home. A tired sigh leaves your lips and you jerk your head, a damn dream, a damn ghost with the face of your first love — Joost Klein. You roll over on your side and a single tear rolls down your cheek before you turn on your phone, open social media and notice hundreds of notifications. You're confused, your eyebrows furrow and you click on one of the links, looking closely at the photo with the caption: «Childhood friend of Joost Klein…»

In the photo, your eyes are glistening with alcohol, and your pupils are large and dark, your head is tilted back, a half-smile plays on your lips, and you look at the man in front of you in love, but his face is in shadow and you can hardly see anything. You feel awkward, even scared, confused. You straighten up, sit on the bed and zoom in on the image, noticing with a surprised «oh» traces of white paint on your face…

— Good morning, liefste(love). — a familiar hoarse, almost purring purring voice takes care of your ears, you freeze with your eyes wide open and turn to the door. There he stood at the threshold. Almost completely naked, with a rustic food tray in his hands and traces of remaining white makeup on his face. Joost Klein.

Your first and only love. Your first and last addiction. Your first and greatest pain.

— I brought us breakfast! — he laughs and talks as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't disappeared for five whole years and then returned without warning. You frown, the heart in your chest once again makes itself felt, but you shrug off the pain when you notice traces of pinkish kisses on Joost's face, neck, chest and arms. White paint and red lipstick mixed together. Joost grins, and you realize with surprise, but without any regrets, that the heart and the first kiss are now not the only thing that you gave him…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!

I'm waiting for requests if there are any?

[italoniponic]

Long Live the Brother | Kingscholar brothers

Synopsis: Since Cheka was born, Falena became more aware of the fact that he wouldn’t live forever. Whenever he falls asleep in his most stressful days, he has this strange nightmare about a gorge and a stampede. As years pass by, the dream has gained more details to its story. Cheka is in danger and Leona is close to Falena, but he can’t help him — because he doesn’t want to.

Falena needs to do something about this premonition. As little as it seems to be.

kingscholar brothers / angst with hopeful ending / Lion King references / minor tamashina mina setting / ft. mention of ocs / 4,5k words / Masterlist

Notes: It’s been a while since I last talked about doing this fic but it’s finally here, folks. *sighs in tiredness* well, I asked people to vote for a type of ending so it took me a long time to write it all and come to a conclusion that felt… proper. Like, there’s room for good things to come, certainly. Hope you enjoy it!

Long Live the Brother

Falena knows he won’t live forever. It seems kind of obvious, especially when it comes to Afterglow Savannah’s oldest teaching: “we are part of the cycle of life.” It’s part of the birth-to-death cycle. Helping others in life and giving life to nature itself when one dies. To become grass, to be a spirit in the stars.

Falena thought about this a lot, especially on some extraordinary occasions in his life: the birth of Leona, the strong illness of their father and, even more strongly, on the birth of Cheka.

The kingdom’s people — among servants, guards and subjects — got used to the charismatic image of Falena. To them, the then-young king was brave and imposing, his strong smile shining brighter than the sunlight on the golden savannah. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

But there were things that troubled Falena’s mind many times. Shadows that have haunted him since the crown was placed on his head.

He was so young at the time and the books he had read during his education weren’t enough to guide his journey in the real world, where brilliant theories could fail at the first unpredictable element of nature. His father was also too debilitated to give any advice. Sometimes he barely recognized where he was in his own room.

Falena could only thank Heavens for having Maisha by his side, she being his most precious support all these years.

The couple had ruled together since they got married. They hit and missed all the obstacles in life together. Maisha was the only confidant that Falena could truly let go of his saddest thoughts and worries. She didn’t demand from him any perfection of his royalty. Maisha would let him just talk to her and it was those moments that made him happiest.

That had been their dynamic since they met at a diplomatic ball a long time ago. The then-prince purposely hid himself from Kifaji just to show the stars to the princess who befriended him.

And it was a mutual, strong feeling. Maisha wouldn’t trade Falena for anyone. Her love was true, overcoming any circumstances and problems they encountered along the way. Proof of this was the birth of Cheka. 

It was an unforgettable day. The kingdom celebrated it as if it were the sunrise after a long period of darkness, the rain after a long period of drought. Both of them were so happy with their little cub. Falena thought of Cheka as the light in his difficult life as king. Unfortunately, with the King’s health worsening, Falena found himself again thinking about life and death.

The shadows gained strength and that’s when the nightmares began.

It wasn’t constant dreams. They appeared mainly after a long and stressful day. When everything seemed about to fall apart, when the difficulties of the kingdom weighed on Falena’s shoulders.

It started simply with him lost in a crowd. People were running over each other, everyone was confused and frightened — and he was being slaughtered by all of them, trampled underfoot.

Then it switched to something else. Falena heard Cheka’s screams and desperately ran to save him. Sometimes he managed to get the little boy to a safe place on the rocks. Other times, they didn’t survive. But in either scenario, Falena would lose his life.

No matter what he did or how hard he tried, everything or only his life slipped through his hands. His son’s screams would turn to tears as Falena collapsed into his own unconscious sleep. It was tortuous. He wanted to answer his little one, to say that everything would be fine — but in what voice? With what kind of force?

As time passed, a new character came to his dreams: Leona. 

He almost always stood aside, just watching the scene unfold in front of him. But sometimes it was he who first warned him of the danger that Cheka was in, and with this, Falena ended up finding himself in the midst of that frightened crowd.

Whenever he woke up from these nightmares, Falena usually took a deep breath and tried to comfort himself in the fact that if something happened to him, Leona could take care of Cheka and Maisha in his place. Without a doubt, he would leave the kingdom safely in the hands of his younger brother. 

There was no other person Falena wouldn’t trust with his own life and that of the people he loved most.

Then, at a certain point, that nightmare repeated itself.

Falena had managed to lead Cheka to the rocks, away from the tumultuous crowd where he could be safer. But he himself fell among the stampede again. In a last effort, Falena jumped up and clung to a high rock.

Relief washed over his face when he saw Leona on top of that very stone, safe enough to pull him away from danger.

“Leona...! Brother! Help me!,” Falena pleaded.

But Leona only gave a contemptuous smile in response. With all the calmness in the world, he crouched down and dug his nails into the knuckles of Falena’s hands, making him scream in pain. 

  “Long live the king,” then Leona gave a long and dangerous smile like he had never given before, looking deep into his older brother’s eyes.

Falena felt afraid of the shade of green in Leona’s eyes. Green in the shade of poison, pure burning sulfur. He wasn’t his brother. Leona wasn’t like that! In front of him was just the picture others painted of him.

Falena heard so many times from the servants that this was who his brother was going to become. A corrupt, envious boy who would bring drought and disgrace to the kingdom. It couldn’t be! Leona wasn’t like that. He would never hurt Cheka, nor anyone. 

Or would he? 

Suddenly the pain in his hands had stopped. The distance between them increased. Was Falena falling? Leona no longer held him. He was watching his fall with a dark, victorious look. A scream was heard in the distance. Falena has never heard the word “no” pronounced so painfully before.

He wasn’t sure if it was coming out of his own mouth because the voice he was hearing was from Cheka. But Falena kept falling until he finally hit the ground and thousands of feet passed over him. The pain of being trampled on was nothing compared to his heart being shattered inside.

Falena didn’t want the crown if it meant leaving his son and wife alone. He never wanted to. 

Before he knew it, he had already left his brother once. He didn’t want to leave him again. 

His voice grew faint before the noise of the stampede above him. Both when he was young and when observing his kingdom, it was the only time when the people’s voice surpassed his light. What began with the servants losing patience with the young second prince, turned into real complaints and fear with his magic.

Falena didn’t know what to say to them. His brother was young, that was all. But as Leona seemed to worsen in behavior, Falena lost the basis to defend him. And with the accumulation of royal responsibilities, he lost sense of time.

One day, Leona was already a full-fledged teenager who didn’t have the slightest motivation to do anything. The chess that Falena taught him with great joy became a game that his brother played alone — because he had no one by his side and no one wanted to be near him. Leona acted as if he were a stranger in the palace, a being who didn’t belong there.

But he was part of the cycle, he was a vital member of the family. Falena still held that truth in his heart. At the end of the day, he didn’t have more time to bring him back? Was their bond already broken beyond repair?

What would be left of all this would be for Leona to let him fall over the abyss of death, more than content to see the color of his eyes shine for one last time? 

“Dad!”

Then Falena woke up. He was alive after all. His heart was pounding hard enough to be sure of it. The sun shone brighter than ever through the office window. He should have fallen asleep unintentionally. His rest time has been getting worse lately. Everywhere he went he had a problem to solve, and if he ever stopped to rest, he felt guilty for it.

But there was Cheka holding his arm tightly, jumping endlessly with excitement. His eyes let out sparks of joy. It was almost nostalgic — at one point, in a room full of books, another boy called his brother to take a break from his studies and talk to him a little bit.

“Dad! Uncle Leona arrived with friends!,” the little prince announced happily. “Can Naru and I play with them? Can we?”

Seeing Cheka smiling gave some cheer to Falena’s poor suffering heart, though the mention of his brother couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Go with Monti and Zakki to talk to your uncle. I... I’m going soon.” 

“Okay!”

“Ah! Cheka!”

The boy stopped in his tracks when his father called his name, his orange hair with yellow edges swirling like rays of midday sun. He was the perfect blend of his parents, a gift from Heavens to them. Falena took him in his lap and kissed his forehead.

“I love you, son. Be careful, okay?,” he asked. His voice was a little hoarse.

“I love you too, dad!,” Cheka kissed his father’s cheek. “And don't worry! I’ll be with uncle Leona.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of...”

Maisha entered at the right moment when Cheka ran out of the office. She had overheard part of the conversation. And her worry only worsened when she saw her husband’s forlorn countenance. 

Falena held his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath. He couldn’t believe what he’d just thought about his own brother. His stomach felt heavy and empty at the same time. He was feeling bad in so many different ways that he didn’t even know where to start. His thoughts collided like an onslaught of hyenas, tearing at his flesh and gnawing at his bones.

“It was that nightmare again?” 

The desolate king felt his wife’s hand massaging his shoulder, conveying comfort and solace. Falena raised his eyes to Maisha, her presence always welcomed on any occasion.

She went around the chair where her husband sat to be closer to him, and he held her waist, resting his head on her belly as he did at the time when she was pregnant with their precious son. His hair of a strong and intense orange cascaded down, confusing itself with the dress of the finest fabric that his queen wore. 

Maisha caressed Falena’s head, patiently waiting for him to find words to express himself.

She never rushed or pressured him. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. Few queens in the world could say that they loved their husband so much that they wouldn’t mind supporting them unconditionally as Maisha had done for a long time.

They never changed, they just got stronger together. Maisha had the same long, naturally slightly grayish-beige hair with strong yellow tips and the kind, wise caramel-colored eyes she had when she was young. The eyes Falena most wanted to face at the moment.

The time that passed wasn’t as long as it felt. For Falena, it seemed like an eternity before he told Maisha every single thing that happened in his nightmare. When the story came to an end, husband and wife stared at each other in deep silence. 

“I failed Leona... terribly,” Falena sighed. “I’d let them say what they wanted of him…”

“Falena, dear. You always defended him the best you could, I know that. Leona... actually, you two are very complicated. All this palace’s life is. What they subjected to a fifteen year old and a five year old boy is unforgivable,” Maisha said.

“But there’s nothing else we can do.”

The woman bit her lip. She understood the feeling well, those shadows that haunted her husband. That’s what she was most afraid of, too. She had known Leona for a long time and, luckily, he came to respect her more than anyone in his life. 

However, respect was still too little to meet him in the desert and drive him back home. Maisha didn’t just want to be Leona’s sister-in-law. She wanted to be his older sister. But he despised his own brother by blood, so what would she — as the family’s outsider — needed to do wrong to fall into the same bad graces?

“What can you offer a man who has everything but wants nothing?,” Maisha suddenly thought out loud. 

And Falena grasped this thought as if it were dry leaves that the wind brought in the afternoon. The royal spiritual adviser, Chinaza, once said that those said leaves were messages from the Kings of the Past — and in reality, the old baboon wasn’t so far from the truth.

With the words of his wife in mind, the king began to think calmly about everything. Over the years, he offered Leona various kinds of gifts. Books, chess boards, expensive items of clothing, dinners with his favorite meats and everything else he had at his disposal to give to his precious brother. It wasn’t just charity. He knew Leona deserved it all.

But it must have looked fake in the young man’s eyes. Deep down — and the nightmare didn’t help this feeling — Leona should despise all these gestures. 

It felt like Falena was patching up the past, as if all they had been through was an old tapestry that just needed extra thread.

“What is the one thing that a man who despises all things, because he feels himself to be despised, most wants?,” Falena asked back as he got up and looked out the window.

They were at the highest point of the palace, from where they could see the whole kingdom and everything that the light could touch. Maisha rested her head on Falena’s shoulder and he leaned on her equally, both with their gaze lost in the horizon.

“I have no idea, my love,” the wife replied.

“I think I know what to do... well, I think” Falena swallowed hard. “It’s not much and I honestly don’t know how much Leona will like or understand it…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our father used to say that diplomatic apologies require more than an emotional and well-crafted text. That’s not what touches people. It’s the process, the small steps you take along the way. If you never cross the desert, you will never come home.”

“Alas, you ramble a lot sometimes,” Maisha said but began to smile as she saw her husband’s face recover its grace. “Will you start with the small steps then?”

Falena took a deep breath, filling himself with courage. He would. 

Better late than never.

If anything, Leona’s patience could be more succinctly described as a worn-out tapestry. 

It had interesting embroidered drawings, making smooth lines on thick thread and had the colors of the sunset. In the old days, it had impressive strength. But he couldn’t say the same in the present though. A lion cub had snatched the edge and began to tear it apart, leaving bristles exposed and easy to fray.

Which settled Jack to be the only one — by their side at the moment — who was actually concerned about the dorm leader wanting to rip apart his own nephew running around him in a fit of pure childish energy. 

Meanwhile, Kalim was distracted by all the beautiful landscapes around them in the huge palace. Naru, the lioness-friend of the little prince, was explaining everything to him — and on certain occasions, she would take a look at her best friend and smile at him having fun. 

But, perhaps, what was doing more harm to Leona’s nerves was the indescribable delight in which Lilia and Vil were watching them near the balcony. They both had different kinds of smiles but seemed equally amused by his look of distress.

Was that Leona’s penance for being himself in the NRC? Or were they joining life’s queue to piss him off?

“Cheka!,” suddenly a powerful voice made its entrance. 

“Dad!” 

Leona had his chair turned away from the entrance, but as he turned around, he was for a very brief moment happy with his brother’s arrival. All to get Cheka away from him, especially. 

He then took a look at the colleagues he brought along and observed their reactions of respect and admiration at the arrival of the king. He wasn’t particularly impressed himself. 

Falena might be the most imposing “Lion King” in all of Afterglow Savannah’s history but Leona would always see him as his annoyingly enthusiastic older brother.

“Dear friends!,” Falena greeted the boys with a smile. “Could you let me steal Leona for a moment?”

This was such a surprise that the second prince turned his head back.

“Oh, we don’t mind, Your Majesty,” Vil spoke for the group, smiling politely.

Leona rolled his eyes. It was like he was being handed over like a pesky stray cat off someone’s backyard. 

Jack was thinking of a form to add any type of positive comments — to at least take that very impression out of the room — but he remained silent as the dorm leader assured him in a simple hand gesture that it wasn’t necessary. 

Falena noticed this as his brother stood up. Every one of them had their own opinions on Leona. Well, mixed opinions it seemed. Personally, he would like to know how his little brother was doing at Night Raven College — but he would have to wait a bit longer to hear about Leona’s school adventures. 

Falena waved a goodbye to Cheka and Naru, leaving them in the hands of their caretakers, the meerkat-man chamberlain Monti and the warthog-man cook — who also acted as the little prince’s personal aide — Zakki, and the remaining boys. 

Then the brothers left the balcony and walked through the halls in complete silence. No one dared disturb their course. Even a falling leaf could be heard in the distance.

After a few minutes of walking beside his brother without facing him, Leona eventually realized that they were walking through more and more empty corridors inside the palace. Places he almost forgot existed. It seemed that they had crossed the entire construction when Falena opened for him a door hidden behind a large dark red wall-tapestry.

Behind the secret passage, there was a large field that was part of the royal estate but remained in the shadow of the towers and higher floors. Further away, Leona recognized a part of the field with a large tree as the marking for the Cemetery of the Kings of the Past. 

“Why did you bring me here?,” he finally spoke to his brother, although he had a confused frown on his brows.

“It's a quiet, peaceful place,” Falena said. “Because it’s the Royal Cemetery, anyone who does not consider here an inhospitable place certainly knows that it is sacred so even servants and guards would never think of looking for a secret passage or opening the door.” 

“So what?” 

“I wish you could find rest here.”

Because Leona had a tremendously surprised expression, Falena added quickly:

“N-no! I’m not talking to you to rest forever here! No way! Please don’t even think...!,” then he took a deep breath to recompose himself. “What I mean, Leona, is that here it will be much easier to hide from the palace than in your room. Cheka is terribly afraid of those hallways, even if he won’t admit it.”

It was Leona’s turn to take a deep breath and facepalm, bewildered by that whole situation. He had not confused Falena’s words — though, come to think of it, it would indeed be a strange thing to say normally — and remained in the dark as to why he was being introduced to that place.

“Are you letting me stay here? Is that it?,” Leona questioned.

“Yes. Consider it my holiday gift.”

“Have you... gone insane? Is the crown so heavy that you hit your head on the floor one of these days?”

Falena bit his tongue, trying not to be discouraged in his convictions, nor to let himself be contaminated by the acidity of his brother’s words.

Leona could be an excellent diplomat when he wanted. Emphasis on “when he wanted”. But what was occurring at the present moment was no disaster of etiquette. It was how Leona usually talked to his older brother. 

Sarcasm and irony were always at their peak. Boredom dictated the harmony of his voice. And, above all, resentment oozed through the thorniest sentences like burning sulfur. 

Falena could feel it more than ever. They weren’t just brothers who couldn’t get along like normal families had. There was a large scar between them, completely exposed and fragile. 

There was no point in pressing mere band-aids there, hoping to disappear with the cut. Something needed to be done to improve the healing process and not allow inflammations. It would be painful and difficult. However, wasting time was no longer on Falena’s mind. If he were going to stop the blood, he should do it now.

It was then Leona felt something different when Falena looked up at him. 

Anyone who might have had the chance to observe them — however deserted the place was — might have seen the reflection of the king’s normally radiant countenance. However, only his young brother was close enough to understand that it wasn’t his usual glow.

“I gave you many gifts and allowed you to do whatever you wanted in a clumsy and vain hope that... “Falena sighed but kept going. “...things could be arranged. But it’s not that simple. In fact, by trying to please you, I was making the situation worse. But Leona...!”

His voice grew stronger, pouring out all its honesty like good rain in the midst of drought and desolation.

“I don’t know what to do, that’s the truth! Maybe I’ll never know. If our father was still well, I could try to take his advice... but all this damage is already done. You walk in and out of here with your head held high but with a terrible feeling in your heart. Like this it’s not even your home.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You don’t know how I feel,” Leona looked away, annoyed.

“Of course I don’t know! You don’t tell me!”

So Leona turned to Falena again, torn between putting the matter aside or contesting it in the adrenaline rush that awoke in his heart. Actually, he wasn’t sure what to answer. And as if Falena could finally after all those years read his little brother’s thoughts, he smiled softly.

“Talk about it when you feel the time has come. It doesn’t even have to be with me, if you don’t want to. For now, a place of silence and comfort is all I can indicate to you.”

“Indicate?”

“Yeah. Because you are still the Prince of the Savannah. You have rights like any of our bloodline,” Falena touched Leona’s shoulder and looked deep into his brother’s green eyes. “You can come here whenever you want. You always could.”

A strong breeze passed by the brothers but they didn’t move even a flinch. Small leaves of various colors, dust and the familiar smell of the savannah continued on its way, as if it were a ghost of one of the Kings of the Past who wanted to spy on the strange scene unfolding there on sacred territory.

Gently, Falena’s hand left Leona and joined his other hand. He wasn’t feeling cowed at least. On the contrary, he was satisfied for the first time with an action he did. His smile didn’t waver.

“Well, if you want to take a break, I’ll let your friends know and…”

“Falena,” Leona called.

He mirrored his older brother’s expression with his words. For a moment, Leona felt like a child again. Not in the sense of feeling small and powerless. But, as it was in the old days. The good times when things were in their place and Falena still had time to afford to teach him to play chess.

“Thanks. Or something like that.”

Leona stared at a distant spot in the landscape, not looking directly into Falena’s eyes. 

He didn’t feel ready yet for that type of situation and had doubts about his brother’s intentions. He never thought he would say that, but hanging out with his classmates and holding his own patience seemed much easier than dealing with the scars of the past.

But something inside him knew that Falena understood what he was doing. It could be a part that Leona hid from his own peripheral vision on purpose, almost always to the point of completely forgetting its existence. Yet it was still there inside him.

“But I’ll have to leave it for another time. I have to lead a pack of warthogs’ backsides to a festival, remember?,” Leona retorted, going back to the exit. “Later. Who knows.”

Falena let out a laugh that made his brother stop for a moment. He looked like he was going to comment on something but then gave up.

“Well, always feel welcome. And I’ll be watching it all from somewhere. Above all: have fun, Leona!”

And then, Falena gave the biggest smile Leona had ever seen before. Perhaps it wasn't just an impression that his aura of majesty was different. It wasn’t like it got any worse, though. 

It was as if an immense weight had left Falena’s shoulders and he rejuvenated like the dawn sun as he reached for his little brother’s step. They continued without saying anything on the way back, following the path in a very rare and comfortable silence. 

It was the first step towards a new ending.

Falena also felt a different energy coming from Leona and his gaze accompanied him throughout the visit, questioning within himself how people couldn’t even see the resplendent light coming from Leona. Or maybe they did — it was his final conclusion — and they didn’t know what to make of it.

But Falena knew. And he felt a deep joy to have a younger brother like Leona. Smart and strategic, able to stand on his own two feet, courageous. Even friendly — although the boy didn’t like to admit it. 

  For the first time in a long time, Falena could have a peaceful night of starry dreams. He never had that nightmare again. He was dreaming of a bright future ahead. Some moment in time when Leona could feel happy doing whatever he wanted. Where Cheka would be a wonderful king and Maisha would still be there by his side.

And Falena would live long to see all this.

Special notes: Uh, I haven’t actually watched anything from the Tamashina Mina event so I don’t even know if they acknowledge Falena’s presence at some point. But this is what I think happened. And I feel particularly relieved about writing this story bc I love Falena due to my memories of Mufasa. I don’t think canon will ever prove me wrong but even so, this is the version of good ol’ Falena that I love the most <3 Thank you for the attention!

[written-in-flowers]

Hi, keep up the amazing work, I really love your hotd-posts! I really want to request something fluffy (and a lil angsty?) for Aegon, I just want to read about him being both miserable and happy.

So imagine rumors spreading across the castle after a servant walks into a noblewoman's chambers, only to find Aegon embraced and fast asleep on her chest. It is not exactly helping when Aegon later practically begs his mother to arrange for her hand in marriage. Everyone either assumes it is to protect her honor, although Aegon is not exactly known to respect the dignity of the many women he takes. Perhaps the lady gave the whore prince an unforgettable night unlike any other, what other reason could there be? Turns out nothing dishonorable happened. Aegon just stumbled in tipsy into her chambers, they drank together for a while and Aegon ended up drunkenly crying his heart out and falling asleep in her arms while she comforted him.

I feel like he is so deprived from love that just a crumble of care, love and nurturing is enough to have that man on his knees lol. Thank you so much again for your work and I hope the idea sounds OK <3

A/N: I used young!Aegon because I imagine him having been more vulnerable at that age, but nothing sexual happens anyways. Idk if this is gonna go how you expected, but here you go hun <3

***

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but...what?"

Nerves swirled around in your stomach as you sat before the queen. She stood a few feet from you in her gown of green and gold, a golden headband keeping back her tresses of brown curls. A regal queen. A graceful woman. A mother. You knew partly why she'd summoned you to her chambers so early in the morning. It'd been because of the young prince, Aegon.

"My son, the prince," she said more firmly, "He wishes to marry you instead of his sister. Why is that?"

You nearly told her 'You answered your own question, Your Grace,' but quickly held your tongue in. You'd done enough damage letting the boy climb into your bed. You wouldn't do yourself any favors insulting the royal family on top of that. Sighing, you answered:

"I suppose because he thinks himself in love with me."

Queen Alicent huffed, "And why would he? Did you give my incorrigible son a night he'd never forget?"

"In a sense, I suppose."

"Lady Y/N," she stepped forward, "If my son...If my son forced himself on you, you may tell me. Whatever transgressions or shame my son has brought onto you will stay within this room. Do not feel you have to hide anything."

"I am not, Your Grace," you nearly laughed. "Prince Aegon never touched me. I swear by all the gods, he did not."

"Then what happened?"

"Well...He'd come into my chambers after the welcoming feast. I saw him stumbling around and looking a bit lost. He...He fell onto my bed. I planned to go tell his guards, but nobody was there. But then..." you weren't sure if you should tell her. It'll be frankly, quite awkward, if you did.

"But then what?"

“He called me ‘Mother’.”

She appeared stunned by this. You continued, “I told him I wasn’t his mother, obviously, but that I’d have someone go get you so you may take care of him. Then he said...He said not to bother. He said that his mother didn’t love him anyways, and that wouldn’t care what happened to him anyways.”

It was quite sad. You’d stood there in your bed chamber, preparing for a night’s sleep, when your door opened. You thought it’d be your handmaiden with tea or one of your household, but no. It’d been the young prince who came sauntering into your chambers. Knowing his reputation, a pang of shock did hit you for a moment. You’d heard what he does to women and girls in his service, and you worried you might be next. Yet, instead the prince slumped down onto your bed. 

‘I can’t find my room in this damnable castle,’ he’d exclaimed. ‘May I stay here, Mother?’

‘My prince, you must leave. Your mother’s chambers are just down the hall-”

‘Ah, she doesn’t care anyways. She’ll just scold me for being drunk, tell me how I’m ruining the family image and reputation by carrying on how I do, and I don’t...I don’t want to hear it tonight.’

You pitied him. Perhaps the boy hoped to escape his princely duties in his cups instead of performing them. You’d seen how he was during Lady Laena’s funeral this morning: bored, indifferent and disinterested. Admittedly, you felt the same, but didn’t show it as blatantly. You’d only been invited because your family is one of the minor bannermen to House Velaryon; your family said it was expected. You hardly knew Lady Laena except in passing at gatherings, but you still paid your condolences and remained respectful. It was unbefitting a prince to get drunk at a gathering of a dead relative and make a fool of himself. It was even more unbefitting for him to be passing out on a lady’s bed in the middle of the night. 

‘I’m sure your mother cares deeply, my prince.’

‘I assure you, my lady, she does not. She’s made it clear on many occasions what a disappointment I am to her and my father. The man has had sixteen years to name me heir, and he never has. Why? Because, look at me. I’m...this...’ he gestured idly around, face half buried in your pillow. 

You’d gone over to him, making sure to keep your distance the entire time. He smell of strongwine and salty air. He didn’t even remove his cloak from his body when he laid down. You pushed strands of wavy blond hair from his face. It appeared quite unruly compared to the sleek blond locks of the rest of the Targaryen clan. 

‘Despite what she might say, your mother still loves you. A mother’s love is something that is unconditional. I’m sure she says those things not to hurt or criticize you, but you try helping you see the error of your ways. She is only helping you so you don’t fail in life; yes, there is the matter of your image and having to uphold your family’s reputation, but those are things that greatly impact a person’s life unfortunately.’

‘It’s all she cares about...because of Them...She’s never once asked me what I desire or care about. Nothing I’ve done has ever been enough for her. It never will be. I’m always doing something wrong in her eyes. No matter what it is.’ 

You’d spent most of the night listening to the prince’s personal problems; the sort of problems a sober person never says out loud. You weren’t sure what exactly to say other than comforting things. Your heart went out to him. You had your own insecurities and problems, which you felt comfortable airing out to him. Considering how he could barely stand without falling, you allowed him to stay in your room. You helped him out of his cloak and boots, gave him water, and let him lay in your arms. It felt nice having someone to hold, and warm your cold bed. Nothing truly transpired between either of you except long talks about parents, duties, insecurities, and uncertainty of life. He told you about his betrothal to his sister, whom he had nothing in common with and did not want to marry. You told him about the lordling your family has promised you to, who once ate butter thinking it was custard. It never occurred to you that you, an unwed woman, should not let Prince Aegon, an unwed man who is known to take what he pleases, be in your bed. 

That is, until the next morning when your maid found Prince Aegon passed out beside you. You’d stammered the story to her, but the damage was done. Aegon shuffled out of your room, clothes and hair still messy, talking about how he’d make her see reason. What he said to her, you’re not sure, but you knew now what claim he’d made. 

“He said this to you?” she asked, stunned and saddened. 

“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. He did not linger on the subject for long, though. He was drunk. I’m sure it was the strongwine talking.” 

You wouldn’t tell her what else he’d said. Those words were between you and Aegon. “My son told me something interesting, Lady Y/N.”

“Your Grace?”

“He bargained for the betrothal,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “He said if I broke off his betrothal to Helaena, he’d stop drinking. He said he’d stop drinking, stop whoring, stop shirking his duties and be what the realm expects him to be. He said he couldn’t see himself being a better man without someone who makes him want to be good in the first place.” 

“And what did you say, Your Grace?”

“I told him I’d consider it.” She stepped closer to you, “Tell me, Lady Y/N, if my son marries you, would you help him become his best? Your family is well known for their piety and abstinence. Your parents wouldn’t agree to a match if Aegon continued to be as he is.” 

‘To be honest, Your Grace, I hardly knew Aegon before last night. I still do not truly know him, but I can see him.”

“Him?”

“The person inside.”

The boy who wants to be held and told that he’s loved no matter his actions. The boy who drowns his misery with wine. 

“I cannot promise to change him overnight, Your Grace. People like your son cannot give up their vices right away, but I will be there for him. I shall be there in his lowest moments to lift him up and hold his hand through the most difficult parts. As his wife, I will perform the duties expected of me and more."

The Queen continued studying you for a moment, then nodded quietly. "The King and I will think on this. You may go now, Lady Y/N."

You bowed to her and let her lady escort you out. Nervousness made you walk on shaky legs despite your best to keep a steady stride. Neither of you did anything wrong. You'd only comforted the prince when he needed it. Had he truly said he'd change if he married you? You doubted that. Boys often say ridiculous things when in the euphoria of infatuation. You're sure Her Grace would see that and deny the marriage. You don't have to worry much.

...But, should she allow it, being queen wouldn't be so bad. Influencing Aegon to change can lead to you influencing him to do other things as well. Such as bending laws to your family's benefit or getting them higher positions in the world. It might not be bad at all.

Perhaps you would give Aegon a special night time visit...

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss Live at Tre Posti Vineyards

Pre-Concert Wine Tasting Reception • Live Concert in the Vineyard • Post-Concert 3-Course Vintner's Dinner

Time & Location Jul 25, 2024, 6:00 PM Tre Posti Vineyards, 641 Main St, St Helena, CA 94574, USA

About the event Please note: Concert is at 7:30pm. Arrival time varies based on ticket type. Broadway & Vine invites you to an unforgettable evening pairing some of Napa Valley most beloved vintner's with a concert by Golden Globe, Primetime Emmy, Critic's Choice, and SAG Award Winner Darren Criss (TV: Glee, Ryan Murphy’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Hollywood, Broadway/Off Broadway: Maybe Happy Ending, Little Shop of Horrors, American Buffalo, Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2015), How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying) at Tre Posti's Vineyard. For this concert, Darren will be performing a playlist of songs featured throughout his wildly eclectic career as both a songwriter and performer.  Supplement your concert experience with a pre-concert wine tasting reception and post concert Vintner's dinner.

Since bursting onto the pop-culture landscape over a decade ago, Darren Criss has embodied the kind of kaleidoscopic artistry that’s entirely uninhibited by form or genre.  Before Darren Criss exploded into the internet’s subculture as both an actor and songwriter for the YouTube viral hit A Very Potter Musical in 2009, he had made a small name for himself playing unique interpretations of popular songs he’d perform at cafes and bars in his hometown of San Francisco.  Little did he know that the same knack for covering tunes would serve him well in 2010, when he was cast on FOX’s massively successful musical series Glee, from which many of his performances of popular songs would lead to several Billboard-topping records.  In 2015 his songwriting also landed an Emmy nomination for Best Original Music and Lyrics, from penning the song “This Time” for the show’s series finale.

Criss has continued to write and produce music extensively through the years, whether for his own releases as an artist or as a songwriter for theater, film & television.  In 2019 Criss created, executive produced, starred in, and provided all the original songs for his short-form musical comedy series Royalties, and earlier this year provided the music & lyrics for the opening number of the 2022 Tony Awards: Act One.  As an artist, he most recently delivered a genre-diverse collection of "character-driven" singles as part of his 2021 solo EP titled “Masquerade” (BMG), and in the same year, released a full-length Christmas album titled- aptly- A Very Darren Crissmas (Decca).

As an actor, Criss is a veteran of the stage whose Broadway credits include the titular role of Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2015), How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying (2012), and the most recent 2022 revival of David Mamet’s seminal play American Buffalo alongside Laurence Fishburne and Sam Rockwell.  In 2018 his work in Ryan Murphy’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story received wide critical acclaim, earning him a Primetime Emmy, Golden Globe, Screen Actors Guild, and Critics’ Choice Award.  He was most recently seen starring in Netflix’s hit series Hollywood, for which he also served as executive producer.”

Please Note: The event will be held outdoors at sunset and the temperature will vary. Seating is based on party size and arrival time, and is up to the discretion of the event management. No seat is greater than 35 feet from the stage in this exclusive Broadway concert experience.  ALL SALES FINAL.

[kodaloveschris]

VIP Magic at Disneyland

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the entrance of Disneyland as Nick, Matt, and Chris Sturniolo eagerly awaited the start of their VIP tour. They stood near the exclusive entrance, sipping on complimentary beverages and chatting excitedly about the day ahead.

"I can't believe we're here," Matt exclaimed, his eyes scanning the park with anticipation. "VIP treatment at Disneyland? This is a dream come true."

Chris nodded, adjusting his VIP badge with a grin. "Yeah, skipping the lines is going to be epic. Which ride do you guys want to hit first?

Nick chuckled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Space Mountain, definitely. I heard it's even more intense when you zoom through without waiting."

Just then, Madison Beer and her brother Ryder joined them, both dressed casually but stylishly for their day of adventure. Madison flashed a bright smile at her friends. "Hey guys! Ready to explore Disneyland like VIPs?"

"You bet!" Nick replied with enthusiasm, his excitement matching Madison's. "Thanks for inviting us, Madison. This is going to be legendary."

Their VIP tour guide, a cheerful Disney cast member named Emily, greeted them warmly and led them through the park. As they passed under the iconic Disneyland Railroad bridge, Emily began sharing insider stories and trivia about the park.

"So, first stop is Space Mountain," Emily announced, leading them briskly through the crowds. "We have reserved seats waiting for us. No waiting in line for you today!"

As they entered Tomorrowland, the sight of Space Mountain towering above them sparked a fresh wave of excitement. They breezed through the entrance and boarded their rocket ships, ready for the exhilarating journey through the stars.

"That was insane!" Ryder exclaimed as they exited the ride, his hair slightly disheveled from the speed.

Madison laughed, capturing Ryder's reaction on her phone. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Ryder!"

Ryder grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "It was wild, okay? I didn't expect it to be that fast!"

Next, they ventured into Adventureland, where they embarked on the Jungle Cruise. Emily narrated the humorous jungle adventure, pointing out the animatronic animals and entertaining them with jokes that had everyone laughing.

"I think Emily's got a future as a stand-up comedian," Chris remarked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Madison nodded in agreement, filming Emily's antics. "She's definitely making this tour unforgettable."

After a morning of thrilling rides and magical experiences, they stopped for a VIP lunch at a reserved table on Main Street. They feasted on Mickey-shaped sandwiches and indulgent desserts, reminiscing about their favorite moments of the day so far.

"I still can't believe we're here," Matt said between bites of a Mickey ice cream bar. "This is like a dream come true."

Nick nodded, his expression reflecting awe. "Yeah, it's amazing. Thanks again for setting this up, Madison."

Madison smiled warmly. "I'm just glad we could all do this together. It's been so much fun."

After lunch, they continued their VIP tour with visits to Fantasyland, where they rode classic attractions like the tea cups and Peter Pan's Flight. Each ride brought new excitement and laughter, solidifying the bonds of friendship among the group.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over Sleeping Beauty Castle, they gathered for a private viewing of the fireworks show. They watched in awe as fireworks burst into the night sky, synchronized to classic Disney music that stirred emotions and filled them with a sense of wonder.

"This is magical," Madison whispered, her eyes fixed on the sparkling display.

Nick nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you so much, Madison. This VIP tour has been beyond anything I imagined."

Ryder grinned, his eyes reflecting the colorful lights. "I'm so glad we could all experience this together."

Chris clapped Madison on the shoulder. "You really know how to make a day unforgettable, Madison. This has been one for the books."

As they walked back to the VIP exit, tired but happy, they reflected on the day's adventures. The VIP tour had allowed them to experience Disneyland in a way they had never imagined, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

As they bid farewell to Emily and the park, they knew that their day of VIP magic at Disneyland had been more than just rides and attractions—it had been a celebration of friendship, laughter, and the joy of experiencing the magic of Disney together.

[monicalestrange3]

Hacer el amor con Mónica fue una de las experiencias más hermosas, exitantes he inolvidables de mi vida, tanto que ya hace un año o más que pasó y sigo sin poder olvidarlo, es gracioso como ella recibe hate por ser "promiscua" cuando conquistarla es de las cosas mas difíciles que he hecho, literalmente ella es el Boss final de las chicas difíciles, no se si fue solo mi caso pero lograr conquistar su corazón y su mente fue desgastante y frustrante pero al final... Valió cada maldito minuto, hora, semana y meses, su olor es una mezcla entre flores y dulces, describe perfectamente quien es, me acabo de topar con una fragancia muy similar que me golpeó el corazón y me obligo a recordarla, por eso estoy dejándole este ask, todos los cumplidos y deseos que despierta entre sus seguidores son reales, su limitado circulo social de amigos del cual no me dejó ser parte son prueba física y emocional de lo madura que es para su corta edad, disculpen el desorden de mi escritura pero escribo esto inmediatamente despues de sentir su olor de nuevo, dios, recordar ese momento es tortura y fortuna, besar tus labios suaves y dulces, acariciar tu piel dorada, hacerte gemir delicadamente, ser atacado por tu mirada inocente pero de alguna manera cargada de erotismo, tu sabor es dulce, bebería de ti por la eternidad, besé y saboreé cada centímetro de ti y sigo buscando una mujer que te iguale, haber estado contigo fue un error, ahora tengo una maldición, ninguna mujer me satisface, senti que hice el amor con el sol, me llenaste de energía en una explosión de éxtasis y eso jamás se va a borrar, te amo y te odio por eso Monica, jamás encontrarás alguien a quien amar porque simplemente los mortales no podemos alcanzar el sol.

No publiqué tu ask en su momento porque pienso firmemente en que nadie debería ser exaltado de esta manera, solo somos humanos, pero como me bloqueaste de todos lados no encontré otra manera de contestarte, solo por este ask, no soy nada de lo que mencionaste, solo soy una mujer común, con defectos comunes que quiere ser amada de verdad, igual gracias por tan lindas palabras, solo te doy un consejo, no busques a nadie en alguien mas, nunca funcionará.

- English -

Making love with Monica was one of the most beautiful, exciting and unforgettable experiences of my life, so much so that it's been a year or more since it happened and I still can't forget it, it's funny how she gets hate for being "promiscuous" when conquering her is one of the hardest things I've done, literally she is the ultimate Boss of difficult girls, I don't know if it was just my case but to conquer her heart and mind was exhausting and frustrating but in the end…. It was worth every damn minute, hour, week and months, her smell is a mix between flowers and sweets, it describes perfectly who she is, I just came across a very similar fragrance that hit my heart and forced me to remember her, that's why I'm leaving her this ask, all the compliments and desires she awakens among her followers are real, her limited social circle of friends of which she didn't let me be part of are physical and emotional proof of how mature she is for her young age, excuse the disorder of my writing but i write this immediately after feeling your smell again, god, remembering that moment is torture and fortune, kissing your soft and sweet lips, caressing your golden skin, making you moan delicately, being attacked by your innocent look but somehow charged with eroticism, your taste is sweet, i would drink from you for eternity, I kissed and savored every inch of you and I'm still looking for a woman to match you, having been with you was a mistake, now I have a curse, no woman satisfies me, I feel that I made love with the sun, you filled me with energy in an explosion of ecstasy and that will never be erased, I love you and hate you for that Monica, you will never find someone to love because we mortals simply cannot reach the sun.

I didn't post your ask at the time because I firmly believe that no one should be exalted in this way, we are only human, but as you blocked me from everywhere I found no other way to answer you, just for this ask, I am nothing of what you mentioned, I am just a common woman, with common defects who wants to be truly loved, still thanks for such nice words, I just give you an advice, don't look for anyone in someone else, it will never work.

[digitalgirlguide]

KIMMY’S DIGITAL DIARY

July is here, and it’s like the summer just gave us a big, warm hug! The days are longer, the sunsets are more stunning, and every evening feels like a celebration of light and colour.

The roses and daisies are showing off their best selves, filling the air with sweet scents, and the sun is treating us to those golden-hour vibes that make everything look like a dream. 💭

June was a whirlwind of beach trips, ice cream dates, and unforgettable moments. New jobs, new opportunities, and new money are rolling in, which is super exciting! But if i'm being 100% honest —it also had its share of meltdowns, frantic deadlines, and new routines. I've learned that now more than ever, i need to get my sh*t together and stay on track with my goals.

Psalm 121:7-8

The Lord will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

what’s in?

summer picnics: Grabbing the besties and a basket full of goodies for some sunshine and laughter in the sun ☀️

fresh fruit smoothies: Blending up nature’s candy for a refreshing and healthy treat!!! my current fave is a mango, strawberry, pineapple and orange juice blend 🍓🥭🍍

spontaneous road trips: Hitting the road with no plans, just the open road and endless possibilities., i looooove driving by the water and exploring the cities nearby. i always find a cute antique shop or new food truck.

what’s out?

burnout: Pushing yourself to the limit and forgetting to relax. you need to promise yourself that you'll schedule at least 20 minutes for self care

overthinking: Letting worries steal the joy from your sunny days. if you stress about it before it happens you're putting yourself through it twice. and that doesn't make sense!

clutter: Holding onto things (and thoughts) that no longer serve you.

FOMO: Stressing about what everyone else is doing instead of enjoying your own journey.

until next time,

mwah!

XOXO

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson and his SOLD OUT CONCERT at the VFG Arena

Martín Esparza | June 8, 2024

Photos by: Brandon Carlín

On the night of June 6, Louis Tomlinson performed with great success at the VFG Arena, offering an unforgettable concert that resulted in a SOLD OUT. This event marked the end of his “Faith in the Future” tour, and the energy in the room was palpable from the first moment. The fans could not contain their excitement, filling every corner of the arena and creating an electrifying atmosphere.

During his performance, Louis performed several of his most popular hits, including "Chicago," "Walls" and "Face the Music." Each song was received with enthusiasm by the audience, who did not stop singing and dancing to the rhythm of the music. The connection between the singer and his followers was evident, demonstrating the deep love and admiration they have for him.

One of the most exciting moments of the night was when Louis decided to surprise his fans with two songs from his time in One Direction: "Night Changes" and "Where the Broken Hearts Go." The reaction was immediate and deafening; The audience could not contain their joy and nostalgia, singing at the top of their lungs and remembering the golden years of the band.

The screams and cheers did not stop at any time. The fans, unleashed with emotion, did not stop showing their affection towards the British artist, creating a vibrant and lively atmosphere. Some attendees could not hold back their tears, especially during the most emotional moments of the concert.

One of those special moments occurred when Louis brought a lucky fan on stage. The young woman, visibly excited, had the unique opportunity to take a photo of Louis along with the entire crew that makes the tour possible. This generous and close gesture unleashed even more screams and applause from the public.

After the photo with the team, Louis took a moment to pose with the fan for a special photo, generating a wave of screams and cheers among those in attendance. This act of closeness and gratitude towards his followers once again highlighted the singer's humility and charisma, making the night even more memorable for everyone present.

Louis Tomlinson's concert was not only a success because of the artist's talent, but also because of the passion and dedication of his fans. Every song, every gesture and every word resonated deeply in the hearts of those in attendance, creating indelible memories.

Without a doubt, the end of the “Faith in the Future” tour was an event that will remain in the memory of all those who were lucky enough to attend. Louis Tomlinson demonstrated once again why he is one of the most beloved and respected artists in music today, leaving an indelible mark on his fans and promising to return with more surprises in the future.

Setlist

[jungkookjeon0007]

Nights in Vegas | CH. 3 (JJK FF)

☆ summary: When Olivia flies to Las Vegas for her first ever BTS concert w/ her best friend, she was expecting to make lots of unforgettable memories... What she wasn't expecting was to end up with the lead singer, Jeon Jungkook, knocking on her hotel room door only to find her in nothing but a towel. What will happen when the golden maknae wants to see her again? Will it lead to heartbreak, or a promising future for them both?

☆ pairing(s): jungkook x olivia.

☆ ratings: (18+) for detailed sex scenes + harsh language.

☆ genre: smut, angst, fluff.

☆ word count: 1.99k.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Oh my gosh that lunch was so good! I'm officially stuffed and ready to go take a nap."

"Yeah, I could go for a nap myself. This has been the longest day ever." Lacie replied while yawning.

We originally wanted to go shopping, but decided to wait another day since the jet lag is hitting us both hard.

. . .

As we made our way upstairs, we were stunned to see 2 familiar faces sitting in the floor outside of our room. When they saw us, they both immediately stood up to greet us.

"Hey. Are you guys needing something? If this is about earlier, I am truly sorry again for everything." I stated, genuinely confused about their presence here.

Jungkook smirked. "No, actually everything is perfect. I was just wanting to see if I could talk to you for a second, Hyung is just here because he didn't want me to come alone."

Glancing over at Hobi, he sent me a soft smile as he approached us. "You guys go inside and talk privately. I'll wait out here with your friend." He smiled as he looked over at Lacie who simply nodded her head in agreement.

We entered the room and once we were settled, he started to speak. "I'm sorry for showing up like this, but I have a few things I really wanted to say to you. I am going to get straight to the point or I will not be able to get through this without throwing up."

Taking a deep breath he continued, "I know we just met, but if you want me to be honest.. I have not been able to get you out of my head. I want to laugh, spend time with you, watch movies together.. whatever your heart desires. I've never been so interested in someone, especially an ARMY, until now."

I sat in silence, unable to speak.

"At the very least, I would really like to get to know you, hang out, and get to be a normal adult for once. If you don't want to though, I will absolutely respect your decision and not bother you with this again."

To say I am in shock would be a total understatement. Jungkook was literally standing in my hotel room, asking if I wanted to hang out and get to know each other better.

I'm honestly afraid this is all a dream and that I will be waking up any minute in utter disappointment.

He began getting anxious due to my silence, apologizing over and over again as he stood up making his way towards the door. I didn't want him to leave, so I stopped him by gently reaching out and grabbing his wrist. "No Jungkook, please wait. I didn't mean to be rude and not answer you, I am just processing all of this. You're literally my bias and one of my favorite singers of all time. I have adored BTS and have been apart of the ARMY for 6 years now, so to hear you say that you want to get to know me better and spend more time with me is all I've ever wanted. I am truly honored so please don't take this as me being ungrateful, I just don't understand something-"

He stepped closer to me, "Understand what? I'd be happy to explain whatever you need me to."

"Why me? You could be doing this with anyone you wanted, so I guess I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what's so special about getting to know me?"

He stared at me with his big brown eyes and for a split second I thought I crossed a line, but suddenly he stepped even closer. "I don't want to spend time with anyone else though. I want to spend time with YOU and get to know YOU better. You're not like everyone else, I can tell that you're different and that's what makes me so curious. I mean, not once have you tried to attack me for pictures or not give me my space... it feels nice if you want me to be completely honest."

Well that's definitely a boost in my confidence. Out of everyone, he is choosing me.

He then interrupted my thoughts, "There is only one thing standing in our way though, you would have to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement form (NDA). No one can know about this and we have to keep it a secret for your safety, as well as mine. Are you okay with that?"

I mean...What is the worst that could happen right? Plus, I would be spending my time in Las Vegas with Jeon Jungkook of BTS. How would any sane human being ever be able to pass this opportunity up?

"Yes, I am okay with all of this and can sign the NDA... but, I do have a favor to ask if you don't mind." I said smiling at him.

"Okay, what is your favor?"

"So my friend that is out there sitting with J-Hope is one of his biggest fans and she absolutely adores him. If he would be up for it and she would also agree to sign an NDA, could we all 4 hang out at together and let them get to spend time with each other too?"

I know Lacie is obsessed with J-Hope just as much as I am with Jungkook and she'd kill me if I didn't at least ask this question.

A huge smile stretched across his perfect face.

I chuckled. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"When we saw you both in the elevator earlier, he talked about your friend and how pretty he thought she was. I don't mind to bring it up, maybe he can see if Namjoon Hyung could do something for them as well."

I was ecstatic and without thinking, I snatched him into a tight hug. "Thank you so much. This is all she's ever wanted, and I truly appreciate you doing this for us."

Realizing what I just did, my eyes went wide as I slowly released him, taking a step back. "I'm so sorry, I just got excited and couldn't control it within the moment."

He smiled sweetly. "It's okay, I honestly liked your hug very much."

Blushing by his compliment, I put my head down to the floor and smiled. With a smile on his face he changed the subject as he got his phone out. "Do you want me to go ahead and text Namjoon so we can get the NDA's signed and out of the way?"

"Absolutely, I can sign it whenever they need me to."

"Oh and btw, I feel so silly for asking but I never did ask your name."

I smirked at him. "Wanting to get to know a girl before knowing her name, huh?"

He blushed at my teasing.

"My name is Olivia."

With the sweetest smile ever he replied. "Olivia, that's a very pretty name. It's nice to meet you officially, my name is Jungkook." He bowed to me and feeling the need to play along, I bowed back.

He then took out his phone, texting Namjoon that we were ready to sign the papers.

. . .

[Lacie's POV]

If you would have told me 5 months ago that I would be in Las Vegas, sitting in a hallway with my absolute favorite person in the entire universe.. I would think you were delusional.

The moment we were left alone, my heart was slamming against my chest, not knowing what to say. Luckily, he broke the ice and approached me with his hands in his pockets. "What's your name?"

I thought I was going to pass out, but somehow played it cool and didn't show the effect he had on me.

"Lacie."

He smiled his beautiful sunshine smile that could make even the meanest girl, fall to her knees.

"That's a nice name." He reached his hand out to me and once I grabbed it, we shook hands. "My name is Hobi, but you can call me J-Hope if that's what you prefer. I know you're an ARMY, but I didn't want to be rude and not properly introduce myself. It's nice to meet you, Lacie."

We sat against the wall, continuing our conversations with one another as our best friends were still gone.

"What do you think is happening in there?" He asked, motioning towards the door with his head.

"Honestly, I'm not sure - Hobi, can I ask you something?"

He simply nodded. "Does Jungkook really only want to spend time with her?"

Taken back by the boldness of my question, he quickly defended his friend. "Yes. I have never seen him like this with anyone. It's probably the sweetest thing I've ever witnessed and I hope he finds happiness with her."

I literally can't breathe anymore from how sweet this man is and how supportive he was of our friends being able to see each other. But I kept those thoughts to myself, shifting in my spot before replying. "Okay good. He better not hurt her, or you best believe I'll hurt him and that's a promise."

I flashed him a serious look showing that I meant business. He simply held his pinky out to me with a serious look, "I pinky promise that he's not just playing with her. Jungkook isn't like that and he genuinely just wants to get to know her and be able to feel closeness with someone other than the members. He's never been able to feel free or be a kid, BTS is basically all he's ever known."

Touched by his words , I wrapped my pinky around his and gave a small smile.

We sat staring at each other, pinkies locked, until the sound of the door opening filled the hallway.

. . .

[Hobi's POV]

In just these few minutes of talking to her, I've found that Lacie is down to earth, incredibly easy to talk to, and beyond beautiful. I think I'm starting to understand exactly how Jungkook feels, and honestly it's pretty intense.

As we sat in the hallway talking, it was some of the most fun I've ever had with someone other than the members. The part I find most enjoyable is that she wants to hear more about me as a person, not J-Hope the idol and no one could ever understand just how much that means.

A few more minutes had went by and soon enough, they came out of the room together. Lacie and I stood up as I walked over to them. "So, how did everything go in there?"

They smiled at each other then back to us. I could tell everything went amazing just by the look on Kook's face and instinctively pulled them into a hug. Once we pulled away, Olivia looked at me then to Lacie with a smug smile on her face.

"What is it?" Lacie asked curiously.

"Umm we kind of did something for you guys..."

They gave each other a smile as she motioned for Jungkook to continue. "I spoke with Namjoon, and was able to get an NDA for-" He paused looking at Olivia.

"Lacie."

"Ahh yes. Lacie. I was able to get an NDA for Lacie as well."

"What do you mean an NDA for me?"

Clearly loving her best friend's reaction, Olivia stepped up in front of her and explained. "So you and Hobi can spend time with one another too."

I think our reactions were exactly the same as we looked at one another then back to our best friends.

"She was the one who came up with the idea. I thought it was amazing, so I set it up with Namjoon. I hope you're not too mad Hyung." I could hear the obvious sarcasm in his voice as he winked at me.

He knew I thought this girl was beautiful and that I wanted to see her again. "Thank you both. I really appreciate that you would do something like that for us."

"Of course! It's not fair that only Jungkook and I get to have all the fun, right?" We giggled and after having a few more conversations, we exchanged numbers with one another and made plans to meet back up at dinner time to go out....

Little did we know that this was only the beginning of a night we will all never forget.

[twistedappletree]

TYPE: One-shot

JURISDICTION: It’s extra fluffy with a dash of awkward angst, your honor.

PAIRING: Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui

SIDE CHARACTERS: Lan Jingyi, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang

ELEMENTS: Lanling setting, canon universe, first kiss, implied SangCheng, Lan Jingyi salivating over chicken (literally), gift-giving, Jin Ling trying to make the first move (emphasis on trying) and Lan Sizhui fixing everything as usual~

•

Beautiful as their surroundings were, Jin Ling’s eyes were hopelessly transfixed on the boy in front of him—his starlight skin in the pastel light, the wonder and joy sparkling in his amethyst eyes, the way each gentle breeze danced through his dark hair and waltzed with the ends of his forehead ribbon.

Jin Ling stared at him intensely and walked further into the grove, the thick layer of petals on the ground cushioning his steps and making him feel weightless.

Every nerve in his body screamed and ached as he walked. Then jogged. Then ran.

•

In which Lan Sizhui keeps disappearing during a visit to Jinlintai, a worried Jin Ling goes looking for him in all the wrong places and an embarrassing run-in with his uncle and Nie Huaisang finally points him in the obvious direction, leading to an unforgettable night.

{AO3}

🌸

The gilded city of Lanling pleasantly echoed with quiet chatter and subtle serenades of bright chimes as Lan Jingyi groaned over his meal. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me in the past hour! I didn’t know where he was thirty minutes ago and I still don’t know where he is now.”

Jin Ling sat across from him at their table outside of the restaurant and crossed his arms. “I just think it’s weird that he hasn’t spent a single day with us since he got here.”

Lan Jingyi listlessly swirled his food around with his chopsticks, the contents of the bowl looking less appetizing each time the other disciple opened his mouth. “Are you his mother or something? It’s really not that weird, he does this all the time when we’re in Caiyi Town.”

A swift foot kicked Lan Jingyi’s shin under the table, causing him to yelp. “I’m just curious, is that a crime?!” Jin Ling slumped back in his seat and looked off to the side. “Figured I’d ask you, since you two are so inseparable.”

Lan Jingyi caught a hint of jealousy in the other boy’s tone and raised a suspicious brow. He finally shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and chewed with an annoyed rhythm. “First of all, we’re not inseparable. Second of all, I don’t wonder where he is every moment like a paranoid wife—“

Jin Ling suddenly slapped his hand down on the table so hard, Lan Jingyi’s bowl clattered. The young Jin disciple stood and turned his back to him, looking both angry and flustered.

“Leaving so soon, Mistress Jin?” Lan Jingyi teased.

Jin Ling placed a hand on his hip and glared over his shoulder, amber eyes burning a fierce gold in the sunlight. “I’ve hit my limit of Lan nonsense for the day. Run around and do whatever you want, I’m going home.”

Lan Jingyi chewed on another piece of chicken as he watched him leave. “Home? Sure,” he snorted, “See you in thirty minutes.”

Jin Ling was too far to hear him and he definitely wasn’t heading in the direction of Koi Tower. Instead, he walked further into the heart of Lanling and thought about all of the places Lan Sizhui could possibly be.

He didn’t even know why he wanted to find him so badly but there was an unmistakable feeling of dejection and worry festering in the pit of his stomach. Dejection because he felt like Lan Sizhui might be ignoring him and worry because Jin Ling wanted to know if he was okay.

He stopped in the middle of a bustling market street decorated with colorful paper lanterns, hanging ribbons fluttering in the cool breeze and golden chimes beckoning patrons to shop with their gentle song.

Sizhui likes animals, he thought. Maybe…

For some ludicrous reason, this thought compelled him to walk towards the local butcher shop, even though Lan Sizhui’s love for animals would certainly make him writhe at the sight of them being chopped to bits.

Before Jin Ling could turn away, the butcher lit up at the sight of his Jin sect robes, high quality weapons and golden accessories, knowing there was the possibility of a generous sale.

“Young Master Jin!” the butcher called, waving a large bloody knife above his head in greeting.

Jin Ling sneered at the sight and wondered if the man had any idea how insane he looked.

“In the market for some fresh meat? I’ll give you the best cuts!”

“Not interested,” Jin Ling said curtly, waving his hand. “Have you seen a cultivator of the GusuLan clan walking around anywhere?”

The butcher raised his brows, “Ah, I have!”

Jin Ling’s face brightened as he prepared to ask him another question but his face immediately flattened into annoyance as the butcher continued.

“He was practically drooling all over my chickens, making other customers uncomfortable. Had to chase him off before he drove away all my business!”

Jingyi, you idiot.

“I see,” Jin Ling muttered, “Never mind then.” He turned on his heel and began walking off as the butcher called after him.

“W-Wait, Young Master Jin! I’ll discount the cuts just for you!”

Jin Ling ignored him and kept walking, thinking of other places to search for Lan Sizhui.

A group of giggling children suddenly zipped past him towards a vibrant stall of various toys. Jin Ling followed them and browsed the items discreetly, attempting to look as uninterested as possible until one item caught his eye.

A sky blue notebook delicately engraved with silver-leaf clouds and several playful rabbits glimmered in the sun. He picked it up and examined its quality, wondering why it was being sold at a toy stand.

“Do you like it, Young Master?”

The shopkeeper, a tiny old woman with a gentle voice, noticed his interest in the notebook and smiled.

“Is this even for kids?” Jin Ling asked.

“Not necessarily, though I suppose the older tykes would appreciate it more than the little ones,” she explained. “But I’m sure it’ll eventually fall into the hands of a child who’ll treat it as a toy. You’re the first to take such an interest in it.”

Jin Ling blushed at the reason why he was so interested, then frowned at the thought of such beautiful craftsmanship being chewed and slobbered on by some random brat. “I’ll take it.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened with awe and delight. “Truly? It’s a bit pricey—“

Jin Ling shot her an annoyed glare, insulted that she’d even question his wealth.

She passively waved her hands in the air. “My apologies, Young Master—let me wrap this for you!”

The shopkeeper folded a cloth around the notebook to protect it and graciously exchanged it for Jin Ling’s money.

Jin Ling now had a peace offering in case he actually did do something to make Lan Sizhui ignore him, which was what his anxiety genuinely made him believe. He safely tucked the notebook into a leather pouch on his belt and continued through the market.

He likes tea, he thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose while realizing he might not know Lan Sizhui as well as he thought he did.

The local tea house greeted him with the calming scents of jasmine, mint and ginger as he stepped inside. An enthusiastic waiter immediately ushered him to a free table and served a fresh pot of tea that remained untouched as Jin Ling scanned every inch of the tea house for Lan Sizhui.

Just then, two very familiar voices sounded from the table next to his. Both tables were separated by a dividing screen but the voices were unmistakable.

He immediately stood and whipped his head around the screen. “Uncle?!”

Jiang Cheng jumped to his feet so fast his hair ribbon came untied, thanks to a stunned Nie Huaisang who was still seated with one end of the ribbon clutched in his hand.

Nie Huaisang promptly shoved the ribbon behind him and snapped open his fan, trying to hide the blush on his face.

Jin Ling glared at him, then narrowed his eyes at his uncle. “You’re with him again? Why?”

Jiang Cheng glowered dangerously. “I fail to see how that’s any of your business. Why aren’t you training?”

Jin Ling pointed his chin and crossed his arms. “I already trained today—“

“Then go train some more—!”

“I’m looking for someone!”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes glittered with interest as he peeked over his fan. “Oh? I might be able to help with that.”

Jiang Cheng scowled. “Shut up, Huaisang.”

“So meeeaaan, Jiang-xiong!” Nie Huaisang whined and stared up at him with the eyes of a kicked puppy.

Jin Ling scrunched his nose at the ridiculous sight, legitimately wondering if he entered a tea house or the circus. “I’m looking for Sizhui.”

Jiang Cheng raised a brow. “Who?”

“One of the little Lan boys, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang clarified.

Jiang Cheng’s jaw twitched at the mention of the Lans. “We saw one earlier getting kicked out of the butcher shop—“

“The funny one,” Nie Huaisang chimed.

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes. “He’s not funny—“

“A-Ling is talking about the boring one.”

“He’s not boring!” Jin Ling snapped. “And don’t call me A-Ling!”

Nie Huaisang waved his fan in front of his face, not expecting such an impassioned response. “Okay, okay! Truce, Young Master Jin!”

“Have you seen him or not?” Jin Ling barked, clearly losing his patience.

Nie Huaisang thought for a moment then lowered his fan. “No.”

“Great!” Jin Ling shouted, voice dripping in sarcasm as he threw his hands up and turned away.

“Jin Ling!”

The young Jin disciple turned to stone at the sound of his uncle’s voice and slowly pivoted back around to face Jiang Cheng’s intense, electrified glare.

“Stop acting like a child,” Jiang Cheng scolded. “You will show your seniors respect.”

Jin Ling still wanted to protest but he frowned at the floor and slumped with defeat. “Yes, uncle.”

Nie Huaisang stared up at Jiang Cheng and fluttered his fan like a swooning maiden before looking back at Jin Ling. “Just because I haven’t seen him doesn’t mean I don’t know where he is.”

Jin Ling furrowed his brow. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Nie Huaisang started, pausing to take a sip of his tea, “That in order to find a Lan, you must think like a Lan.”

His cryptic sentences were driving Jin Ling up the wall. Even Jiang Cheng slid back down to his seat and closed his eyes, seemingly meditating to drown out Nie Huaisang’s nonsense.

“Just think about it,” Nie Huaisang chirped. “What do the Lan’s love to do more than anything else?”

“Get kicked out of butcher shops, apparently,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

Jin Ling snorted and Nie Huaisang tapped his fan on Jiang Cheng’s head who batted it away like a vexed cat.

“I’m not talking about that Lan, I’m talking about the normal ones,” Nie Huaisang corrected.

A dismissive sound hissed through Jiang Cheng’s teeth. “Are any of them normal?”

“They like to study,” Jin Ling interrupted, ignoring their banter. “And—“ His face suddenly blanched and he mentally kicked himself for being so dense.

Nie Huaisang brightened and passed him a knowing look while Jiang Cheng’s eyes flicked between them, utterly confused.

“I have to go.” Jin Ling hastily bowed to them both and scampered off towards the entrance.

“You better be training when I get back to Koi Tower!” Jiang Cheng shouted after him.

Nie Huaisang noticed the vein on Jiang Cheng’s forehead and fanned some cool air in his direction. “Let him be, Jiang-xiong.”

Jiang Cheng grumbled and leaned back with crossed arms. “The hell was that about, anyway?”

Nie Huaisang grinned and refilled their tea cups. “Something you wouldn’t understand—not yet, at least.” He retrieved Jiang Cheng’s hair ribbon and wound it playfully around his own wrist. “How about we continue our… conversation.”

Outside of the tea house, several people moved away and watched as Jin Ling raced through the market and skidded to a stop in front of Lanling’s bookshop. He swung open the door and marched inside.

“Welcome, Young Master—“ the shopkeeper’s greeting was cut short as Jin Ling planted both of his hands on the counter and stared at him intensely.

“Lan disciple. Tall, quiet, too nice for his own good. Where is he?”

The aggressive tone of Jin Ling’s voice made the shopkeeper go rigid with hesitation. “Y-Young Master, if you’ve a quarrel with him, may I ask that you settle it outside? These books are quite fragile and—“

Jin Ling furrowed his brow. “Huh? I’m not here to fight him, I just need to talk to him.”

The shopkeeper exhaled with relief and nodded. “Right, thank you… he’s in the back of the shop, I believe.”

Jin Ling headed further into the bookshop, passing several shelves filled with scrolls, ink pots and brushes until he reached the back.

Lan Sizhui was sitting on the floor hunched over several books that were fanned out in front of him as neatly as possible. He dipped a brush into an ink pot and scribbled something on a piece of parchment, so immersed that he failed to notice he wasn’t alone.

Jin Ling crossed his arms and arched a brow. “You got enough books?”

Lan Sizhui whipped his head up in surprise, his amethyst eyes sparkling in the warm lantern light. “Young Master Jin…? What are you doing here?” His face suddenly paled and morphed into pure worry. “Is Jingyi okay? He didn’t break anything again, did he?!”

Jin Ling’s face twisted and he rolled his eyes. “He’s fine and I’m pretty sure the town is still intact.”

Lan Sizhui sighed with relief, tension leaving his shoulders. “Did Hanguang-Jun send you?”

“Nobody sent me,” Jin Ling muttered, sounding slightly annoyed. “I came here because—“ He stopped and bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to finish his sentence. “Because I wanted to see you.”

Lan Sizhui blinked at him before whispering a small, “Oh…” He folded his hands in his lap and gave him a concerned look. “Are you okay? Did you need help with something?”

Jin Ling shook his head and looked off to the side to avoid eye contact. “It’s just… we haven’t really talked since you got here and I thought maybe… maybe I did something to make you ignore me.” He mentally cursed at himself and dug the toe of his boot into the floor. “Never mind, forget I said anything, it’s stupid—“

“No,” Lan Sizhui interjected, looking up at him with a softness in his eyes and a frown on his lips. “It’s not stupid. I apologize for making you feel that way, Young Master Jin—I haven’t been ignoring you, I promise.”

Jin Ling’s eyes remained crestfallen as he peered at Lan Sizhui through his bangs.

His solemn expression didn’t go unnoticed by the Lan boy, who nodded at his books and smiled. “I know it sounds crazy but I’ve been studying. When I find something I really want to learn, I get a bit obsessed with it.”

Jin Ling surveyed the open books and lifted a brow. “So that’s what all this stuff is?”

Lan Sizhui nodded and patted the empty space next to him. “Come sit, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on. Maybe you can help me.”

The sudden invitation to join him sent Jin Ling’s heart racing but he quickly realized there was no graceful way to get to him. Lan Sizhui’s impressively large barricade of books made sure of that.

“Careful not to step on the books,” Lan Sizhui mentioned, “I haven’t paid for any of them yet.”

Jin Ling knelt down and grabbed one of the covers. “Why don’t I just close some of the—“

“NO!”

Jin Ling froze and stared at Lan Sizhui in bewilderment, not used to hearing him shout like that.

“Sorry,” said Lan Sizhui, “I’m still taking notes from that one.” He scanned the other books and pondered. “Maybe this one? No… oh! How about—eh, no…”

Jin Ling let out an exasperated sigh and awkwardly tiptoed between the small spaces, wobbling a bit off balance as he finally made it over. Lan Sizhui grabbed Jin Ling’s arm to steady him and gently guided him down to sit.

They were close enough that their shoulders pressed together and Lan Sizhui’s scent of orange blossom and cedar wood flooded Jin Ling’s senses, making him feel warm and lightheaded.

The aroma of ink and old books mixed in as Lan Sizhui dipped his brush and wrote a few notes. Jin Ling leaned over to read them and made a funny face. “Herbology?”

Lan Sizhui nodded. “I’ve been studying herbal remedies to use during night hunts in case anyone gets injured.” He pointed at one of the open books. “There’s also ways to use certain herbs for coating weapons and making them toxic to your enemies. We’d… have to use those carefully though, especially with Jingyi around. You know how he likes to touch things he shouldn’t be touching.”

Lan Sizhui laughed quietly and Jin Ling took a moment to get lost in the sound of the Lan boy’s voice, listening to him passionately go over what he’d learned.

Neither of them realized how close their faces were until Lan Sizhui turned to look at Jin Ling and accidentally brushed his nose against the other boy’s cheek.

Both of them jolted back and Lan Sizhui lifted his hand to his face, entirely forgetting about the brush he was holding. Jin Ling stared at him for a moment, then slowly broke into a fit of quiet laughter.

Lan Sizhui frowned and tilted his head. “What is it?”

“You—“ Jin Ling paused and swallowed another laugh, “You have ink on your face.”

“Oh!” Lan Sizhui reached his hand up to wipe it off. “Here?”

“Other side,” Jin Ling corrected.

Lan Sizhui wiped the other side of his face. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s lower. By your nose—“ Jin Ling frowned as Lan Sizhui managed to miss it every single time. “L-Look, I’ll just… hold still.”

Lan Sizhui watched him curiously then blushed wildly as the young Jin disciple licked his thumb and leaned in close to clean the ink from his skin.

Something ignited in Lan Sizhui’s chest, molten and sparkling like drunken stars. All he could do was sit there and lose himself in every detail of Jin Ling’s captivating face, his amber eyes undeniably striking in the lantern light.

Jin Ling, on the other hand, noticed what he’d done and ripped himself away. He clutched at his robes above the knees and shook his bangs into his face, mortified by his own actions. “I-I’m sorry, that was—I don’t… I don’t know why I did that—“

“Is it gone?”

Jin Ling lifted his head to see Lan Sizhui smiling and pressing his fingertips to the flushed skin where Jin Ling had touched him, a dreamy glimmer in his amethyst eyes.

“It’s… it’s gone,” Jin Ling managed to mutter. He felt awkward, embarrassed and anxious but seeing Lan Sizhui’s smile settled his nerves a bit.

“Thank you, A-Ling.”

The heat invading Jin Ling’s cheeks was almost unbearable and he quickly filled the looming silence with whatever came to mind. “So… is this really all you’ve been doing all day?”

Lan Sizhui’s mind was still replaying Jin Ling’s hand on his face. The question confused him until he saw Jin Ling poking at one of the books. “Oh, um… well, not all day.” He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “The bookshop has to close eventually.”

Jin Ling gave him a suspicious look. “But you’re always gone until nightfall. Last time, you barely made it back by nine.” He lifted his chin and glared down his nose. “And don’t lie, I saw you running.”

Lan Sizhui blinked at him and laughed. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Wha—No!” Jin Ling crossed his arms and blew his bangs out of his face. “Don’t be ridiculous! I just happened to see you coming back a few times. I have more important stuff to do, you know.”

Lan Sizhui smiled fondly, unable to find the flustered Jin disciple anything less than adorable. “Of course, A-Ling.”

Suddenly, Lan Sizhui began closing all of the books and stacking them together. Jin Ling watched as the barrier of herbology that gave them an excuse to be so close gradually disappeared. He felt a pang of sadness in the pit of his stomach but did his best to ignore it.

“What are you doing?” Jin Ling asked.

“The shop closes soon,” Lan Sizhui explained. “I’ll have to put some of these back before we leave.”

Jin Ling frowned. “I thought you wanted to buy them?”

Lan Sizhui packed his notes and ink into his qiankun pouch and smiled sheepishly. “I can’t buy all of them, they’re far too expensive. But that’s okay, I don’t need them—“

“Which ones do you want?” Jin Ling interjected, picking up one of the stacks as he got up from the floor.

Lan Sizhui grabbed the other stack and stood up with him. “That’s like asking me which rabbits I’d pick out of a litter.” He laughed and shook his head. “It really is fine, I can just come back and take more notes—“

“Sizhui,” Jin Ling said, his tone resolute. “Take them to the front. I’ll get them for you.”

“But…” As much as he wanted to object, he couldn’t find the right words without sounding ungrateful. “A-Ling, I really can’t afford to pay you back—“

“I’m not doing it so you’ll owe me,” Jin Ling interrupted, sounding a bit insulted. “I want to get them for you. They’re obviously important to you, so I want you to have them.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes softened and his entire body deflated with defeat, always knowing better than to argue with a determined Jin. “Okay.”

Jin Ling immediately lit up at his acceptance. He adjusted the books in his arms and proudly marched to the front of the store with Lan Sizhui trailing modestly behind.

The shopkeeper’s eyes went wide as the two of them placed the stacks of books on the counter, followed by a large sum of money from Jin Ling’s wallet that Lan Sizhui was actively trying not to look at.

“Have these wrapped and sent to Koi Tower, to the Lan disciples’ guest rooms,” Jin Ling ordered. “Make sure they get there by tonight.”

The shopkeeper slowly nodded, staring at the money with a dumbfounded look. “Right away, Young Master! Thank you!”

Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui exited the shop together and stepped out into the now peaceful and quiet market street as the evening sun painted Lanling in warm gold.

The fresh air helped calm Lan Sizhui, especially after being holed up in the bookshop all day. He turned to the young Jin disciple beside him and smiled. “Thank you, A-Ling. I’m not sure if this would be repayment enough but would you like to see what’s been keeping me out so long? I think you’ll like it.”

Jin Ling eyed him curiously. “We’re… we’re not gonna go talk to ghosts, are we?”

Lan Sizhui laughed and shook his head. “No ghosts, I promise. This is something special.”

An electric feeling spiked Jin Ling’s heart rate. He wasn’t sure what Lan Sizhui meant by ‘special’ but it both excited and terrified him.

“I thought about keeping it to myself but I’d like to share it with you,” Lan Sizhui added. “We should leave before the sun sets. It’s best when there’s still daylight.”

“Let’s go,” Jin Ling blurted, almost prematurely. Lan Sizhui beamed at his instant response and gestured for him to follow.

They passed through the market streets, residential districts and eventually into Lanling’s farmlands. Lan Sizhui veered off of the main road, leading Jin Ling past a large pond and through the weeping leaves of an old willow.

As they emerged from the leaves, they were greeted by a seemingly endless grove of cherry blossom trees. Sunlight filtered through the canopies and colored the grove in ethereal shades of soft pink as a rain of loose petals delicately fluttered to the ground around them.

Lan Sizhui had already gone further ahead, his white robes a striking contrast against the backdrop of deep, rich bark and blushing blossoms. A few falling petals clung to his raven hair as he spun around with a bright smile on his face.

Beautiful as their surroundings were, Jin Ling’s eyes were hopelessly transfixed on the boy in front of him—his starlight skin in the pastel light, the wonder and joy sparkling in his amethyst eyes, the way each gentle breeze danced through his dark hair and waltzed with the ends of his forehead ribbon.

Jin Ling stared at him intensely and walked further into the grove, the thick layer of petals on the ground cushioning his steps and making him feel weightless.

Every nerve in his body screamed and ached as he walked. Then jogged. Then ran.

Lan Sizhui barely had time to react before Jin Ling’s body crashed into his. He would’ve been knocked backwards if Jin Ling’s arms hadn’t wrapped around his waist and grounded him.

The Lan boy’s eyes went wide and his heart skipped a beat before racing uncontrollably, small flurries of pink petals flying off of his robes from the impact. He looked down to find Jin Ling’s face buried against his chest, a subtle bouquet of scarlet peach and clove melding with his own scent of orange blossom and cedar wood.

For a moment, Lan Sizhui worried if Jin Ling was okay but the other disciple didn’t seem upset in the slightest. He was just holding him, as though he’d been waiting to hold him his entire life.

Without another thought, Lan Sizhui embraced Jin Ling, pressing their bodies even closer together. He sunk his fingers into the other boy’s long hair, cool and soft as burnt umber silk.

The world was quiet around them, save for a gentle breeze whispering through the cherry blossoms and matching the now peaceful rhythm of their heartbeats.

As if stirring from a dream, Jin Ling lazily lifted his head but kept his eyes downcast, still too nervous to look Lan Sizhui in the eyes in case everything happening really was his imagination.

But Lan Sizhui had an immaculate talent for making things feel both dreamlike and real. It was his low, gentle voice saying his name that finally gave Jin Ling the courage to look at him.

Lan Sizhui smiled one of his impossibly charming, lopsided smiles that made Jin Ling’s heart flutter and his head spin. The Lan boy’s head was covered in petals and Jin Ling instinctively reached up to dust them off as though he’d done so a million times before.

“You’re gonna turn into a cherry blossom tree,” Jin Ling muttered, fussing over every petal while knowing it was just an excuse to keep touching him.

Lan Sizhui chuckled and tilted his head. “If I do, will you come and visit me?”

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes, exactly as Lan Sizhui expected he would. He then mumbled a quick shut up—also expected.

What Lan Sizhui didn’t expect was Jin Ling’s hands abruptly cupping his face and pulling him down into a spontaneous yet timid kiss. He froze with shock, eyes wide as Jin Ling’s lips trembled against his.

After realizing Lan Sizhui didn’t kiss him back, Jin Ling’s hands slipped from the other boy’s face. Anxiety and mortification wracked his body as he stumbled backwards and clenched his shaking fists at his side. “I… I’m—“

Just as he was about to turn and run, Lan Sizhui lunged forward and grabbed his hand. “A-Ling, don’t—“

“I’m sorry,” Jin Ling choked, eyes glossed and burning. I ruined everything, he thought. “Sizhui, I’m—“

He wasn’t given the chance to repeat his apology as Lan Sizhui tugged him into another embrace. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The second Jin Ling’s strained posture relaxed in his arms, Lan Sizhui felt tears soaking into the lapels of his robes. He barely pulled away to smile down at the young Jin disciple, lifting a hand to brush his hair out of his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“You really know how to make someone speechless, A-Ling,” Lan Sizhui jested. “Can we try that again?”

Jin Ling nodded up at him, shivering when Lan Sizhui’s fingertips brushed along his jaw and tilted his chin. The Lan boy’s thumb gently passed over Jin Ling’s bottom lip before he leaned in close and…

The kiss was nothing like Jin Ling’s impulsive, hesitant crashing of lips.

Lan Sizhui’s kiss was soft, slow and confident, giving Jin Ling the overwhelming assurance that both of them wanted this. He stood on the tips of his toes, launching himself deeper into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Lan Sizhui’s neck and carded his fingers through his raven hair.

The blush on both boy’s cheeks had never burned so bright as they explored and experimented with angles, movements, holding each other’s face, neck, waist. Neither of them had the slightest idea what they were doing, having never kissed anyone before but they quickly found a steady rhythm with each other’s guidance.

Jin Ling let his guard fall entirely, feeling dizzy and wanted and safe in Lan Sizhui’s arms. His surrender emboldened Lan Sizhui to hold him tighter, kiss him deeper, anything to let him know how elated he was that his feelings for him were requited.

They slowly broke the kiss but stayed close, warm breaths tickling each other's skin as they exhaled. Lan Sizhui surprised Jin Ling by pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He smiled against his skin and Jin Ling stared at him in a trance, unable to look away.

A few cherry blossom petals fluttered between their faces, bringing the world around them back into focus. Lan Sizhui looked up to find that the bright evening light was now a deep orange, blanketing the grove in hazy twilight. “It’ll be dark soon,” he said, looking back at Jin Ling. “There’s one more thing I wanted to show you but I’d hate to get you in trouble with Sect Leader Jiang.”

Jin Ling recalled finding his uncle with Nie Huaisang at the tea house, knowing all too well that Jin Ling was the last thing on their minds. “Trust me, he’s occupied.” He absentmindedly played with a lock of Lan Sizhui’s hair as he continued. “Besides, he’ll only come here if I use a flare, so unless you plan on murdering me or something…”

Lan Sizhui blinked at him and laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t make a habit of murdering people I lo—“He stopped himself and nervously glanced at his feet.

“People you…?” Jin Ling raised a curious brow and waited for him to finish, his heart beating quicker.

“P-People I care about,” Lan Sizhui sputtered.

Jin Ling knew that wasn’t what he originally meant to say but it was still painfully sweet and the Lan boy was hopelessly adorable when he was flustered. “Well, good,” Jin Ling asserted, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Don’t think I wouldn’t fight back just because I like you.”

Lan Sizhui grinned admiringly, the young Jin disciple’s playfulness easing his nerves. “I’d expect nothing less. But you’ll never have to worry about that, A-Ling.”

Hearing his name in the low, dulcet tone of Lan Sizhui’s voice made the tips of Jin Ling’s ears redden and his chest flood with light. He looked down and fidgeted with one of his bracers. “So… what else did you want to show me?”

“Oh!” Lan Sizhui’s face illuminated with recollection as he broke himself out of the amorous spell they’d both been under. He glanced up at the darkening sky and smiled. “Perfect timing.”

Lan Sizhui held his hand out to Jin Ling who took it without hesitation, his mind immediately obsessing over the comforting sensation of the Lan boy’s strong, slender fingers wrapping around his own.

They moved further into the grove until they came upon a large cherry blossom tree that caved into an alcove at the base of its trunk. The two disciples sat down together and nestled into the space, Jin Ling quickly realizing the tree was giving him another chance to cozy up with the handsome boy beside him.

The wind seemed to approve of this scenario as a cold gust of night air whipped past and made him shiver against Lan Sizhui who was quick to act, shrugging off his outer robe and chivalrously draping it over Jin Ling’s shoulders. He wrapped his arm around him and held him closer as he nodded towards the grove. “Ready?”

Jin Ling mentally thanked the night for masking the blush on his face and leaned against Lan Sizhui, soaking up the warmth of his embrace.

Just then, something in the grove caught his eye. Little glowing balls of green light began flickering to life all around them—clinging to the grass, floating in the air, dappling the cherry blossoms’ canopies with ethereal fluorescence.

Jin Ling’s eyes lit up and darted everywhere, an excited smile spreading across his face. “Fireflies!”

Lan Sizhui grinned at his reaction and nodded. “They seem to like it here, probably because it’s so close to the pond—Ah! Hold on.”

He removed his arm from around Jin Ling, who frowned and huddled closer as Lan Sizhui rummaged through his qiankun pouch and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Jin Ling asked.

“I think I left my extra parchment at the bookshop,” Lan Sizhui explained. “I usually continue studying out here, but…” He glanced at Jin Ling then closed his qiankun pouch and smiled. “It’s not important, especially right now.”

Jin Ling suddenly straightened, remembering the notebook he’d bought for him at the market. A warm expression verging on bashful washed over his face as he fiddled with the leather pouch at his waist. “Um… A-Yuan?”

Lan Sizhui raised his brows in surprise, making sure he heard him right.

“Don’t get mad at me,” Jin Ling started, “But I got you something else from the market.”

The Lan boy watched curiously as Jin Ling removed something wrapped in cloth from the pouch on his belt and handed it to him. Lan Sizhui carefully unwrapped it while Jin Ling rambled nervously.

“If… if you don’t like it, it’s okay. I can take it back or you can give it to someone else or—“

Lan Sizhui’s mouth fell open upon seeing the magical cover of the notebook that emerged from the fabric—rich sky blue decorated with silver clouds and rabbits glimmering brilliantly in the moonlight. Occasional flashes of green reflected in the silver from the fireflies flitting above.

He gingerly ran his fingers along the cover and smiled, shaking his head. “How could I be mad at you? This is beautiful, A-Ling. But…”

Jin Ling’s heart sank for a moment before Lan Sizhui finished his sentence.

“It looks expensive. I hope you didn’t have to pay too much for it.”

The young Jin disciple exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding and narrowed his eyes. “You—what did I say earlier?! Don’t worry about that.” He pulled Lan Sizhui’s robe tighter around his shoulders and mumbled, “It’s… it’s just something I thought you’d like.”

Lan Sizhui gently nudged his shoulder against Jin Ling’s and beamed. “I love it. Thank you.”

Jin Ling huffed and leaned into him, watching the fireflies as the Lan boy fished his brush and ink pot from his qiankun pouch and began writing in the notebook.

Curiosity eventually took hold of Jin Ling and he looked down at the page to see a drawing of a flower he didn’t recognize, followed by a brief description:

Golden petals like velvet sun. Thorns are deceptive, soft to the touch. Defiantly grows alone but flourishes with others when given the chance. Unparalleled beauty. Inspires an overwhelming sense of euphoria when seen or touched.

He furrowed his brow after reading. “What kind of flower is that?”

Lan Sizhui looked up from the notebook with a smile. “A very special one.”

Jin Ling glanced around the grove and frowned. “I don’t see any flowers like that here.” He looked up at Lan Sizhui with a pout. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime.”

Lan Sizhui responded by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead, making Jin Ling’s cheeks redden. “I will.”

The young Jin disciple rested his head against the Lan boy’s shoulder and watched the fireflies waltz with falling blossoms in the tranquil grove. Lan Sizhui sighed contentedly and continued writing, eyes frequently wandering to Jin Ling as he added more notes about the ‘flower.’

Sweet to taste, heaven to hold, a privilege to love—

Someday, he’ll see what I see.

{ 🖤 }

[jake-g-lockley]

Changing Seasons (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: Mentions of deteriorating mental health, angst, other than that, it's all fluff <3

Word Count: 3.1 k 

A/N: Steven Grant my beloved, I will never forget how I fell in love with you, also I’ve been feeling a lil down lately and writing this really helped me

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall and winter were never your favorite seasons. Since moving from your beautiful country, a country that had accustomed you to a devastatingly hot climate country, you thought you would be happy in a cooler climate, but oh you could never have been so wrong. Seasonal depression would hit you so hard that you often spend your weekends curled up in your bed with piles of blankets and pillows, making your own comfort fort with masala chai and brownies that the lovely old lady from next door would make for you. 

It was hard for you to drag yourself out of bed on the weekdays, often feeling like it was a chore, but you had to go to work. When you had to go to work, you would wear a mask, a mask that you would try hard to keep on throughout the day to make sure that you wouldn’t look weak in front of others. You made sure your back was straight, chin was up and skirt was perfectly positioned as you mustered a genuine smile at the museum sponsors in board meetings. No one knew how you were feeling inside, not even your best friend. 

Steven Grant is easily your favorite person in the world. He made his unforgettable impression on you on your first day at the job and he was protesting against the badly designed posters of The Ennead outside the museum. You had immediately found his intelligence and love for history extremely attractive and you watched intently as he passionately explained which gods were missing from the poster, not to mention his very obvious good looks. After a few months of working, your professional relationship with the tour guide had blossomed into a friendship that you were working so hard to keep afloat as you kept denying the fact that you were head over heels in love with your best friend.

He had the most beautiful golden retriever energy and he was always enough to warm your soul, like your Amma’s rasam on a cold rainy day. For someone who had normalized feeling alone, you had found it quite easy to cling onto Steven. 

“Why did I fall in love with Steven?” You had asked yourself on those days where your heart yearned for him and you realized that your brain had looked for excuses to say no but your heart doesn't agree to any prohibitions that your brain would place against you. 

Part of you felt your brain and heart fight to the death whenever Steven was around and that part of you would die over and over as your brain became victorious.

When the both of you started becoming friends, you and him had a weekly affair that you would jokingly call “Date Night or Fight Night” where the both of you would decide whether you would spend the night playing FIFA on the PlayStation or cook a nice meal together and enjoy it over a little history documentary that Steven would annotate with his fun facts. You and him only had each other and these little moments were so perfect and were the highlight of your week.

This October, you had bailed on “Date Night or Fight Night” three out of the four times. Steven never had questioned you, only giving you an understanding smile and resuming his work quietly. It was the same today, he looked at you with his big brown eyes and his pretty lips turned upwards hopefully, only to drop significantly when you told him you had to bail again. Steven was incredibly patient with you but he knew you were keeping secrets from him. He never seemed to press on about why you would cancel on him at times, but you know you had disappointed him. 

Today was one of your bad days. You were a mess inside and everything was throwing you off. You were almost late, you broke your favorite pair of heels, and you lost a very affluent sponsor. On a normal day, you would be completely fine, taking the day as it is but today, you felt as if you were going to fall apart. Internally, alarm bells rang as you could slowly feel your mask slipping off. Your mind was racing and you needed a place to calm down. 

“I’m fine, Steven. Really, I just have something urgent to take care of at home. Sorry about canceling again.” You murmured your apology to Steven and quickly packed your stuff, adamant in getting as far away from him as you could. 

You were sure that if you gave yourself the chance to wait there a little longer, you would have collapsed into his warm embrace from pure exhaustion. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steven’s POV

“Something is wrong, worm.” 

“You really don’t have to state the obvious, Khonshu.” Steven grumbled, watching your retreating figure. 

Steven knew that there was something up with you. Ever since the first leaf of the season started to brown, he suspected a shift in your behavior. He knew you were wearing an unknown mask, at least a mask that was unknown to him, You thought no one would notice you spacing out, or your drawn out sighs and the lack of prolonged eye contact. But Steven did, mainly because three other individuals were looking at you with him. 

In fact, despite him not wanting it to be true, Steven knew exactly what you were going through. Marc’s complicated history of mental issues gave Steven a rough idea of what was going on with you. He noticed how you would excuse yourself to go to the breakroom during lunch instead of eating with him, so that you could lay your head down on your arms and take a short nap. He knew you had difficulties concentrating during the board meetings and he often found himself watching you rock slightly on your chair, only catching yourself when someone called your name. 

Jake and Marc had become equally worried when you didn’t turn up to their second  “Date Night or Fight Night” of October. Steven had insisted that you were probably occupied with something more important than him, but not even that could convince him. Even Khonshu started becoming more overprotective of you when you bailed out the third time in a row and Steven would often find the ancient god sitting quietly beside you as you tried to drown yourself with work, a small piece of his robe draped over your shoulders, shielding you from the cold. 

Steven refused to press on despite Jake and Marc’s protests. He respected your privacy and didn’t want you to think that he was being too patronizing. They knew how much this whole thing had affected him. You had induced sleepless nights for him, his insomnia hitting him like a truck as worry tricked his brain into staying up all night. Whenever he did finally drift off to sleep, you would haunt his broken dreams. In his dreams, Steven was tied up to a nearby column as he watched you beg for the pain to stop. You would be kneeling, your tear stained face pointing up to the heavens as you pressed your hands together in prayer, your voice sought out for help. He would scream for you, over and over, convincing himself that it was just a dream and nothing else. 

What you didn’t know was Steven wore a better mask than you ever could. He couldn’t let you see what was going on with him, not when you were so down yourself. But today, today it felt different. Steven had the overwhelming urge to get to the bottom of this because he couldn’t sit around anymore, helplessly watching his girl descend into madness. He needed to break the cycle of pain that was knowingly destroying both you and him. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your POV

“Ah, fuck this!” you yell, slamming the door of your fridge close. 

You had barely got home in one piece, before breaking down and lying in bed until you felt hunger surge you. The worst part of your seasonal depression was the fact that you constantly had the urge to eat, but you never had the chance to stock the fridge or your cabinets. You laid down on the floor and turned to your side, pressing your cheek against the concrete floor. Tears slipped out of your eyes and pooled on the floor as you stared at the door in front of you, willing for someone to help you get up so that you could go out and get some food. 

But you had no one. You had been actively pushing your best friend, your world, your Steven, away from you. He was all you had and that too was slowly slipping away from you because of your inherent need to act all tough. You really needed Steven right now, to feel him beside you, to have him just hold you and tell you everything was going to be okay. You laid there a little while longer, collecting your thoughts and slowly, you pushed yourself off the floor and tidied yourself up to go to the store. 

You opened your front door and almost lost all of your senses when you saw Steven standing there with several Tesco grocery bags. You blinked up at him, absolutely confused at the sight of him. For a while, you were convinced you had just magically summoned him and that he was just a fragment of your wildest imagination but what Steven did next almost sent you straight into the Duat. The second his eyes properly focused on you, he gently placed the Tesco bags down, took your hands in his and wordlessly pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Steven,” you whispered into his chest as you listened to the thump of his heart. “we should go inside.”

You felt him nod and he dropped his arms to grab the bags, only to hold them all in one hand, the other slipping into yours as his eyes casted downwards. You stared at his majestic crown of curls as your heart threatened to burst out of your chest, eventually finding the energy to step back into your apartment, pulling Steven in with you. Steven suddenly took lead, turning towards your kitchen after you slipped the lock back onto your door. He led you to your dining table, positioning you next to a chair and gesturing for you to sit down. 

You quietly sat down and watched as Steven, who was already familiar with your kitchen, gracefully started putting stuff from the Tesco bag into their respective places. You watched him pull out your favorite snacks, dry ingredients, vegetables and fruits, your eyes welling up with tears. Steven didn’t say a word or turned to look at you as you rubbed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that what you were seeing was really happening in front of you. You’ve never seen Steven Grant this quiet in your life and you too were stunned into silence. 

Leaving a few things on the counter, Steven pulled off his sweater and swiftly walking towards your bathroom. After a few minutes, he emerged and walked towards you. Holding his hand out for you to take, Steven finally made eye contact with you. All you could see in his soft brown eyes was understandment, not the pity that you had expected. You took his hand and he lead you to the bath where he had run a hot bath and popped in your favorite bath bomb that you had run out some time ago. 

“Take your time, I’ll be here when you’re done.” he whispers, smiling slightly.

By the time you were done with your bath, the delicious aroma of food wafted your way. You slipped on an oversized loose t-shirt and some socks before eyeing Steven’s sweater that he had clearly set out beside your towel. You grabbed the soft article of clothing, pressed it to your nose and inhaled Steven’s cologne, his warm, familiar scent comforting you.

You were still holding his sweater as a small knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Steven holding a hairbrush and one of your hair ties. 

“Need help with that?” He said softly, looking at the sweater. 

You nodded slowly and handed him his sweater, carefully anticipating what he would do next. Setting the hairbrush and hair tie aside, he bunched his sweater up and pulled it over your head. Once the material was around your neck, he slipped his hands into the sleeves and grabbed your hands, pulling them through and adjusting his baggy sweater around you.

“Could you turn around for me, love?” The word of endearment sent shivers down your spine but you silently turned around, facing the mirror in front of you.

Steven gently pulled out your hair that was tucked into his sweater and started to brush it, detangling any knot he came across and smoothing it down with his large palm. You watched open mouthed as he parted your hair three ways and started to braid your hair loosely with his tongue between his teeth, tying it when he got to the bottom. 

“There you go. Come on, I’ve got dinner ready.” he said, looking at you through the mirror, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

He guided you outside and you found out that he had made you your favourite dish of simple spaghetti carbonara, the comfort college kind that you simply couldn’t resist eating. He gently pushes you down into your seat, sits opposite you and grabs your bowl. Before you could protest, Steven Grant is feeding you right there in your own kitchen. 

The silence was comforting to you as Steven’s presence alone seemed to have calmed your brain down a little. He fed you small forkfuls of spaghetti, occasionally stopping while you sipped on some water. Never in your life has someone committed such an act of service without even saying a single word. 

You watched the man you love grab his handkerchief and dab slowly at the corner of your mouth once the bowl of spaghetti was empty. A finger curled underneath your chin and Steven surprised you with an absent minded kiss on the forehead before getting up and washing the dishes. You stared at his broad shoulders as they flexed while he moved around in your kitchen. 

You gathered your dropped jaw and collected yourself, realizing that you hadn’t even said a word of thanks to him, after all he had done for you. You got up and stumbled towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his back as tears started to run down your face. You both stayed like that for a while and you were positive that Steven had started sobbing too, the way his body started to shake as he gently caressed your arms that were around him.

After you had gotten out a good cry, you loosened your grip on him and tugged on his shirt, urging him to turn around. His eyes were bloodshot and you were close enough to see tears clinging onto his beautiful long lashes. However, instead of wiping his own eyes, he reached out and cupped your face, swiping under your eyelids before pulling you in again for another hug.

“Why are you helping me, Steven?” You whisper, your voice thick with tears.

The both of you stood there embracing, the question left hanging in the air. You didn’t necessarily need the answer, Steven didn’t owe you the obvious after all he had done for you. But your battle driven heart needed the solid confirmation that your brain was processing. 

“You’d do it for me.” He shrugs, murmuring into your hair. 

Yeah, you most definitely would. 

Steven’s hand grazed your arm, reaching for your fingers. He intertwined them with his and adjusted his light grip in your hip. You lean into his firm chest as he began to sway the both of you side to side. You found the slow rhythm soothing and you slid your hand up to his shoulder, hanging onto him like he was your life line. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you out sooner, I was scared. Scared that I would look too… overbearing.” 

“This is definitely not overbearing.”you replied, pressing your cheek closer to his chest.

You get so lost in the dance that your legs stopped working for a second and you stumble slightly, but Steven held you up. When the both of you slightly parted, you realized his Magen David got tangled in a stray string from his sweater that you were wearing. 

Through your stuffy nose, you giggle slightly as you thought of the little running SRK cliché, where jewellery seemed to always get stuck in his clothing. Steven chuckled slightly too as his nimble fingers untangled his necklace from the sweater. 

You reached up and cupped his jaw, your fingers tracing the perfect smile lines on Steven’s face. His big brown doe eyes blinked down at you, his soothing gaze squashing the turmoil in your heart. You let your fingers lightly brush against his lashes, his eyes fluttering shut. 

You realized at that moment, as silly as it sounded, that if you were to continue to live, it would be only with him, for him. If you would die, you wanted it to be by his hand, because after all, he was the one who hit you right in the chest with deep, unbearable feelings. He had appeared as a divine light to you, not even the moon’s rays could compare.

All you had ever wanted was for him to love you the same way you loved him, but here he was, loving you more than your imagination could muster. His touch was so tender to the point that he was holding you as if you were fragile and you could feel your ego slipping away as the minutes ticked by. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Y/N, only for you.” Steven suddenly spoke, bringing you out of your trance. 

“Gods, I have no clue how to fall out of love with you.” you blurt out, the last of the air in your lungs floating out of you with that statement. 

With bated breath, you watched the gears turn in Steven’s mind. His eyes met with yours and you could see a rosy blush creeping up his god like cheekbones. 

“I have no clue how to fall out of love with you either.” He sighed, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your fingers softly. 

You finally let oxygen back into yourself as you melted into Steven. 

“I guess we could work something out.” 

“Yea, we most definitely could, love.”

Tagging: @brekkers-desigirl @wordacadabra @paymeinkash @ahookedheroespureheart @swiggy-needs-mental-help @pakhiya @mintpurplemnm @soumya-13 @violet-19999 @dystopian-reverie @softieekayy @cherryesskisses

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*