#tiny confetti stream

[cervicrazed]

Oh my God.....

I'm a terrible parent

[taro-pdf]

DCxDP: De-aged Danny is a Eldritch Little Ball of Mischief

This was not how Danny envisioned his evening going. Who knew that not only did an immortal ancient fae not only live in the infinite realms, but it also really didn’t like it when Danny told it that it couldn’t go around usurping other Kings’ kingdoms for funsies? Not Danny. Until about an hour ago that is. When the Observents observed the imbalance, they had told him about it. Apparently it was important enough to literally bury him in envelopes. Well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get away from paperwork for a while, Danny had thought. It turned out to be a much more difficult task than he’d anticipated.

Lucky for Danny, he’d just won the not-so-little spat and the fae capitulated in the end, agreeing to maintain but not expand the boundaries of its haunt. Unlucky for Danny, there was a different neverborn fast approaching, and from its posture, it was not wanting to just have tea. Taking just enough time to send out a “hurt/portaling away/talk later/careful” core message to his Fraid, Danny pushed the ectoplasm in front of him to the side and willed the Realms to take him somewhere safe. 

The swirling green energy was a relief. The Realms all but pushed him inside, and he fell through time and space, getting smaller and smaller to conserve the little ectoplasm he had left. He slid to the ground with a sigh. All he saw before the world faded was an overcast sky framed by the edges of apartment buildings.

****

Danny slowly woke up. The first thing he noticed was the gravel he lay on. It shifted beneath as he rolled over, bits clinging to his skin where he had been touching the ground. The second thing he noticed was the smell. The third thing he noticed was that there was a lot of noise coming from somewhere. He wrinkled his nose and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his tiny hands.

Tiny hands?

Danny looked at his hands. They were indeed tiny.

He opened and closed his tiny baby hands experimentally. They made adorable little fists, but weren’t they supposed to make big fists? How big were his hands supposed to be again? He looked at his body. His hands seemed to be the right size compared to the rest of himself, so he decided to not worry about it.

What he would worry about was his immediate comfort, and the thing bothering him most was Why Did It Smell So Bad. He pushed himself into a sitting position and then floated just of the ground. He frowned at the metal wall in front of himself. Taking a few steps back, he saw it was a dumpster… which explained the smell, at least. So what was the noise? 

Peering around the dumpster, Danny saw a very small, colorful car, and the door opened to reveal a clown who shouldn’t be able to fit into such a small place. He laughed maniacally, just loud enough to cover the sounds of distress from nearby people. 

“Well, well, well, Batsy! Seems your little Arkham fun house can’t hold all this FUN!” Arms spread wide, a clown extricated himself from the car and walked forward, eyes fixed on something above him. “I think someone needs to remind Gotham how to live a little, wouldn’t you agree? Why don’t you all SMILE for me?”

He threw his head back and cackled. The sound sent shivers through Danny’s body and made him flatten his ears. Ears? He glanced up and didn’t see anything. When he patted his head with his tiny adorable hands, though, he found that he did indeed have soft pointy ears. Which was… something that he probably should have feelings about.

The sound of confetti popping drew his attention away from his (maybe new) ears back to the events outside. The bystanders were smiling now, tears streaming down their cheeks. Another pop of confetti, and their smiles stretched wider. They didn’t seem to be actually smiling. Danny watched as less colorful clowns brought more people up the laughing one. He reached into the car and pulled out another confetti popper. Danny frowned. It wasn’t right to make people feel scared, and it wasn’t right to make them smile if they didn’t want to, either. Danny may be small, but at least he knew that! He started forward. The clown was big but no matter how big you were, sharp teeth still hurt. Danny licked his lips. His teeth were very sharp. Changing his tail to less noticeable little legs and little feet, he crept forward.

As he opened his mouth to BITE that horrible no good very bad clown, he was snatched up and yote! Yote from one pair of big hands to another! They wrapped up his writhing form in a firm, one armed hug and then swung him away from the clown, away from the ground, and onto the roof, where he was unceremoniously plopped down. He blinked.

He blinked again. There were other people on the roof. Some were crying. Some were smiling. Some were standing and looking over the edge. Person Who Grabbed him was one of those. Person Dressed Like A Traffic Light was another.

“He doesn’t seem affected, but he might bite,” said grabbed.

“Tt. I will be able to handle the small child. What do you take me for?” Traffic Light uncrossed his arms, pulled something from his belt, and threw it with practiced ease. Danny heard a “oof” and then thud as someone’s body thumped to the ground. Traffic Light had hurt someone!

“No! Don’t hurt!” Danny lunged for Traffic Light’s elbow, only to be grabbed by Grabbed again!

“Woah, little one!” Grabbed wore a mask, but Danny could still see his smile. “We’re taking care of the bad clowns. They are hurting people, and we want them to stop.”

“Ok,” said Danny. He didn’t like the clowns. They could get very hurt for all he cared.

(started a long time ago and unfinished)

[bloodhoundluke]

you, forever —❦ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x ex! reader

description: y/n seems to be finally over luke, but what does she do when he shows up declaring his love for her in the pouring rain? this was requested with the prompts #4 "Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry” & #2 “Don’t do this to me” from my prompt list.

warnings: luke being a shitty boyfriend, a break up. angst. slight mentions of insomnia and disordered eating. cursing. a happy ending.

word count: 3,5k.

a/n: now that i am happy with this fic, it's time to publish it! the beginning of this story was heavily inspired by the song ‘moment i knew’ by taylor swift. i hope you like this one! ❤️‍🩹

The broken promises, the events unattended. His lame excuses. They grew a dagger in your heart, which stung time and time again. Your 23rd birthday was no exception. 

You hosted a party to celebrate your birthday. You never threw any parties, they weren’t really your scene. Luke was supposed to be there with you, his hands around your waist, wishing you a happy birthday. Against your wishes and his promises, he wasn’t there. Not on time, anyway.  Somehow you thought it’d be different this time. Did he even love you like he claimed he did? Did he even care about you? Hell, you even wondered if he was sleeping with someone behind your back. 

You tried to have fun, you really did. But as the night dragged on and you chugged down way too many tequilas, you bursted into tears in your bathroom. How could someone, your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, make you feel like this on your god-damn birthday?

It was 4am when Luke showed up behind your front door, and you foolishly opened the door for him. The party was over, and you couldn’t even bear to look him in the eye. It was the same old story, I am so sorry baby, we had to work around a few things in the studio. I love you, let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll do better next time. 

You didn’t say a single thing to him as you let him in. Luke went to the bathroom, and as soon as he was out of your sight, tears began streaming down your face. You stood in your kitchen, and looked around. The alcohol-stained balloons, empty beer cans and the remains of confetti reminded you of your relationship with Luke. Sad, broken, bruised.

You sobbed and sobbed, hard enough not to notice Luke walking next to you.

"Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry”, he offered you his embrace, which you swore once was warm. And which was something you once wanted more than anything in the world. 

You sobbed against his chest. This was the last straw, you promised yourself. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You had turned a blind eye to his mistakes, always holding onto some tiny glimmer of hope he would change. You defended him time and time again to your friends and family. You loved him more than you loved yourself, and that seemed to be your greatest mistake. 

“Don’t do this to me”, you whimpered under his touch, still feeling the endless rivers building up in your eyes.  “Do what?”, he proposed the question as if he didn’t have a clue what was going on. His eyebrows frowned, and he bit his bottom lip. You couldn’t believe it really had come to this. You receded from his embrace, breaking the skin contact. 

“Pretend everything’s fine. Pretend we’ll be okay”, you swept your tears away, and saw the mascara stains on your hands. You swept them away with the helm of your dress, and wondered what was going through Luke’s mind. Did he even feel bad for missing your birthday party? Did he even understand how terribly he treated you?

“Y/N…”., he enunciated your name as if it was a warning, if there was some line you couldn’t cross.

“You knew this was doomed from the start. You played me along, Luke. I mean, fuck! I thought everything would change. I thought you loved me enough not to miss my own fuckin’ birthday!”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it”.

“I’m sorry too”, you avoided direct eye contact with him, and left the kitchen with nothing but disappointment and anger. He didn’t even bother to come after you. 

And that was the moment you knew. 

—❦

The morning approached, and you executed your usual morning routines, only this time with a quicker pace. You could do this, you told yourself. You’ll be okay.

Luke was still sleeping, and you gathered his things from your apartment. The spare t-shirts and underwear. His toothbrush, his Vespa mug. Everything. You wanted to make this as smooth as possible. Not necessarily for him, but for you. You didn’t want him to stay around any longer than necessary. Sleeping with him last night was a mistake, even if you took all the anger into bed with you. You hated and loved him at the same time.

So, when you heard him shuffling in bed, you entered the room and leant against the door with a coffee mug in your hand. 

“Hey darling”, he smirked. The man had no idea. You forced a smile, and waited until he was decent and in his Pink Floyd t-shirt and black sweatpants. 

“Luke?”.

“Hmmm?”.

“I packed up your things, they are waitin’ for you in the hallway. I want you gone. Out of my life”.

—❦ 

The beginning was the hardest. The silent screams in the pillow, the loss of appetite. Your sobs echoed through every room in your apartment. There was no escaping him. His eyes, the prettiest blue eyes you had ever witnessed, haunted you wherever you went. Even the god-damn Rainbow Krispies yelled out his name. 

You carried his silent optimism with you, his voice reminding you everything would work out just fine. You begged the voice to stop time and time again, but it persisted, clung onto you tightly. 

For the first three months you couldn’t even say his name out loud, yet alone hear it coming from someone else’s mouth. It sounded wrong, the way they said it. Luke was supposed to come from your mouth, with your accent, with your tone of voice.

Slowly but surely, you started to see the world through realism-infused glasses. You didn’t think about him the first thing in the morning and the last thing before going to bed. You were okay. You didn’t need his love. Instead, you needed your own. A glimpse of hope was staring at you, you just hadn’t seen it before. 

—❦ 

The past few years had treated you well, and you had gotten the job of your dreams. Everything was moving smoothly, and you were excited for what the future held for you. You were still living in the same apartment, but you had renovated it to look more like you. The white living room walls were now replaced with the beautiful shade of juniper, and your decor had shifted from a Scandinavian style to a more earthly and antique-appreciating English countryside.

You had stayed out of relationships. Sure, you had gone to a few dates, but you never wanted to build anything serious with them. You considered them more like irregular hook-ups, not official dates. You decided to be on your own. You had everything you needed; friends, family and a job you enjoyed.

You were returning from work, and it was pouring rain. You held an umbrella over your head whilst Bon Iver was blasting through your AirPods. Thankfully it was a short walk to your apartment from the metro station.

A figure of a man, supposedly, sat in front of your apartment complex. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he forgot his keys inside. Maybe he was a creep. Shit. You grabbed your umbrella tighter as you reached him. 

And then you understood. Dark pants. A worn out leather jacket. Converse. Light, curly hair. A beautiful face, sculpted by the gods, was staring at you. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be.

Luke.

It really was him.

You glared at him, and took your earphones off in shock, placing them in their case. Luke got up from the staircase, and you both stared at each other for a while. 

The rain was pouring down, and the man hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella with him. He pulled his soaking wet hair back with his hands and you couldn't understand why your ex-boyfriend was voluntarily hanging out in front of your apartment complex, in a weather like this.

“What are you doing here?”, you quivered and held your bag tightly against your body.

“I’m here to get my girl back”, he shoved his hands into his leather jacket pockets, and studied your face with a somewhat melancholic smile on his face.

“What are you talkin’ about?”, you asked, your tone nonchalant.

“I’m here to get you back. Or attempt it, I don’t know. I fucked up, Y/N, big time. And many times. And-”

Didn't he think it was a bit too late for that? “Luke, stop”, you interrupted him. You didn’t want to hear it, he had smashed your heart into pieces. He didn’t get to apologize to you. You didn’t want him to have any power over you. And it wasn’t fair how he showed up and reminded of his existence, just now when you were finally ready to open your heart to someone new. 

“Y/N, please? Hear me out”.

“Fuck you”, you cursed at him, and pondered walking away from him. But you stood in your place, hoping he could see the hurt on your face. 

“Okay, I deserved that. Is there more?”, he tilted his head slightly, and his eyes bored into yours.

“What do you mean?”, you gritted your teeth.

“Just fuckin’ yell at me, get it out of your system. Curse at me, tell me the things you hate about me”.

“If you came here for this, leave…please”, you begged. 

“No, no, no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Shit. Uh…just give me a second, hear me out”.

“Okay”. You’d hear what he had to say, and then you’d leave him in the pouring rain. And you wouldn’t see him ever again. That was the plan.

“I, I know this might not mean anything to you, after I treated you, but it has always been you, Y/N. After all these years, you are the only one I have ever truly loved. Hell, I still love you. I still remember your favorite songs and the way you like your tea. How you like your eggs in the morning, and how you hate almond milk…And shit, I just, I need to get this off my chest. I am, still, so foolishly in love with you it’s unbearable. I want you, I want us back”.

You looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. When you tried to say something, the words escaped your lips, leaving you powerless.

As tumultuous your and Luke’s relationship was and despite the times you convinced yourself you hated him, you still caught yourself missing him and the relationship sometimes. But this…this felt a bit too much for you to handle right now.

“Say something, please….Anything”.

“I don’t know Luke. I mean, you hurt me. Time and time again. I don’t know if I want to go through that pain again”.

“I know”, he sighed. “Do you still love me?”.

“Despite everything, yes”, you sighed.

“So isn’t it obvious? If you love me, and I love you? Doesn’t that mean we should give it another go?”.

“But sometimes love isn’t enough, Luke. Love doesn’t fix everything, I thought you knew that”.

“I know you are cautious, and I don’t blame you. I put you through hell, I know. And if this makes me sound like a broken record, so be it… I fuckin’ love you, Y/N. I have always loved you. Just you. Nothing will change that. Not even the years in between that I haven’t seen you. Not even the fact that I am not the same person who I was those years ago, when I treated you like shit. When I made you cry every night. I remember it well, Y/N, I haven’t forgotten. It seems you are impossible to forget”.

“I think you are impossible to forget too, Luke”, you sighed again. “I just….I don’t really know what to say to you. I don’t even know what’s going inside my head right now. I…I need a moment to figure everything out”.

“I’ll wait for you”, he promised.

You took quick glances at each other in the rain, and a small smile crept upon Luke’s lips. You were soaking wet, and wanted to go inside. Against all your instincts, you invited him into your apartment.

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah”.

“Really?”.

“Come on in before I change my mind”.

—❦

Luke hadn't been in your apartment in three years, and his sudden presence in your own space felt a bit nerve-wracking. Only if he saw that you had kept the mugs he once bought you. And his Blink-182 shirt that you never bothered to give him back. And the necklace hanging on the bathroom shelf that he had bought you on your 2nd anniversary.

You had changed to a dry set of clothes, and offered Luke a towel to dry himself up.

Luke sat next to you on your living room couch, as far as he could on the limited space of the two-seater. The silence was unbearable, it was eating you up. You had rehearsed every little thing you would say to him when you’d see him, but now it felt like the thoughts you once had escaped you the very moment you tried to reach them. 

You had offered him tea, and were drinking some chamomile tea yourself. A few candles were burning on the top of your coffee table, next to a pile of books and the coffee mug you had left there this morning. 

Would you really go through this with him again? Was it worth the try? Was it foolish that a small part of you thought it could work out this time? Did he really mean everything he said? Could he support his words with his actions?

“When you said you aren’t the same person you were before, did you mean it?”, you asked, and blew the tea slightly before drinking it. 

“I did”.

“What did you mean by it?”, you placed the tea mug at the top of the coffee table. You looked at the candle burning beside it whilst Luke talked.

“That I’ve grown. I am not a stupid 24 year old anymore, Y/N. I know what’s important in life. I know what kind of man I want to be, and I am trying to reach that everyday”, he explained with a certain softness in his voice. This Luke was patient, calm; not like the passive-aggressive Luke you once knew.

“So growing up has changed you, huh?”, you frowned your eyebrows, and studied his hair, which had been bleached. You liked this look on him, he looked refreshed. And more mature.

“And losing you”.

Your lips parted slightly at the comment and you noticed how he was fiddling with his ring that adorned his left index finger. He still did that. 

“Luke…”, he looked up to you as he heard his name, and you continued, “why didn’t you fight for me?”.

The narrative in your head that you had created through the years was that he didn’t love or care about you enough. That he had lied to you every time you went to bed, when he whispered those three little words to you. 

“Because I knew you deserved something better. It was the right thing for me to do'', he offered you a sad smile.

You swallowed loudly, his words getting a hold of you. You were fighting off the tears, not wanting to show Luke how much it was still hurting. 

“But now, I know, or fuckin’ desperately hope I am the man you deserve”.

“Do you really think it could work out this time? Us?”.

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”.

“‘Cause I am a stupidly huge hopeless romantic, I suppose”, he let out a small chuckle. Your lips curved into a smile, “And let me guess, you’re stupidly, hopelessly in love with me?”.

“You took the words out of my mouth”, he chuckled as you chuckled along with him. You had missed this. Hearing his adorable laughter. And laughing with him, hearing the sounds of your laughter blending in together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“If we do this, hypothetically, of course, we should take it slow. Like extra slow?”.

”Yeah, of course. We wouldn’t want to rush a good thing, would we?”.

You smiled at his words, pleased with the fact he was on the same page as you. You would have never guessed, not even in a million years, that you’d discuss rekindling your old flame with the man that once tore up your heart. And that something inside you told you to trust him this time around. 

”Luke?”.

”Tell me”.

”I’ve missed you”, you confessed as if it was a sin, something you shouldn’t say out loud. Something that you could be punished for. 

”I’ve missed you too, Y/N”.

Something in you, some unimaginable force, wanted to throw yourself into his arms, and kiss him like you had never been apart. 

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes, and as you looked how soft and angelic Luke looked next to you, the tears began to stream down your face.

”Hey, hey… what’s going on, sweetheart?”, he inched towards you, and like a magnetic pull, you closed the gap between you. The proximity didn’t make you nervous, it felt like something that was bound to happen.

”I just..uh, fuck… I don’t know”, you managed to answer through the tears, ”Can you… hold me?”. He nodded, opened his arms and you placed your head against his beating chest. He wrapped his arms around you and your sobs grew more silent. He fondled your arm with his other hand, and you felt his face squished against your shoulder.

”Feeling better?”.

”Yeah. I’m sorry, I was just a bit overwhelmed, I guess”.

”Don’t worry about it. I get it”, he still stroked your arm gently, comforting you just the way you needed.

It all started to make sense. His light stubble against your bare shoulder, your black tank top perfectly matching with his, your steadily beating heart. 

You backed away from his embrace, the sides of your legs still touching one another. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, your fingers playing along with his, until Luke cleared his throat. 

”My mom asked about you the other day, by the way. Well, she didn’t really ask, I suppose, but she wished you were doing good. She loves you, y’know. You always knew how to make her laugh. And she loved how you used to watch The Bachelor with her, now no one wants to do it. And gosh, she never stops complaining about that, I mean -”

You pressed your tear-infused lips on Luke’s, and it took him a while to figure out what hell was going on, and when did, he brushed his lips softly against yours. His hands moved to hold your face and you placed your own behind the back of his neck. You started to grin into the kiss, you couldn’t help it, and soon realized Luke was doing the same as your teeth clashed along with his. A few giggles escaped both of your mouths, and you could practically feel the blood rushing through your veins. Luke closed the small gap between your lips, and for a while, you sat there in each other’s proximity.

”I want to try again, Luke”, you looked deeply into his baby blue eyes and found a sense of comfort in them.

”I want to do that too.. not like it was obvious or something”, he giggled. You loved his sudden nervousness, it was adorable. A large grin spread across your face, and faded as soon as you remembered the reality of your and Luke’s situation. Like you said it yourself, love doesn’t fix anything, not on its own. Did you and Luke have what it takes to make your relationship work again?

”How do we do… this?”.

”I don’t think there’s a manual for this, but we’ll figure it out together”, he kissed your temple.

So you promised each other you’d do everything in your power to make your relationship work again. That night you made up for the lost time, and talked about everything that had been going on in each other’s lives. You babbled about your work, and he listened to you like your voice was his favorite sound. He showed you his tattoos which he had gotten, and the lotus quickly became your favorite. You shared your traveling stories, and he told you what it was like to be on tour. And when you got emotional about missing him for so long, he got emotional too. And suddenly you were sobbing against each other, your legs entangled with his and his lips brushing over yours.

And when you woke up the next morning, with Luke’s arm hanging around your torso, you knew you had made the right choice.

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

[kinglazrus]

this isn't the beginning (but it's a start)

An AU where Portal Danny went missing his senior year of high school, and he's back home twenty years later.

Ch. 2 | Masterpost | Read on Ao3 | Cover art by @lil-yardstick | Glass figures by @what-even-is-sleep

Chapter One: Oblivion

It was always going to hurt.

Words: 2085 Warnings: mild gore

The star is dying. Tiny flares stretch into the darkness, fiery tongues lapping at the air until the thread of light tethering it to the whole breaks and the heat is lost forever as it dissipates. The star grows smaller with every burst. Dimmer. Colder.

It’s dying, and he might be dying with it, but that feels trivial in comparison. He dies every day.

It always starts in the burial ground, where he roams between the graves. Most of them are little more than mounds, gentle slopes in the grass where something is buried underneath. But others have been tended to so carefully, marked by stone with flowers laid upon them, as if to show there can still be life there.

It’s a nice sentiment, if a bit mistaken.

His memories are buried there, interred deep beneath the dirt and beyond his reach. Most are lost to him, and the few he knows, he knows only by the words carved upon their tombstones. They’re stories he’s been told, faces described, names repeated so many times they should be burned into his brain, but somehow manage to slip away from him again.

But he always wanders, and digs and digs and digs, until his nails are torn and his fingers bleed, and still there’s nothing. If there are any caskets here, he’s never seen them. He lays at the bottom of an empty grave, hands folded over his chest, mud clinging to his fingers as the damp seeps into his clothes and hair. He closes his eyes and wishes the dirt would pour over him. Sometimes it does, stinging his eyes, filling his mouth and nose. Pressing down on him until his ribs creak. And another piece of him dies as he goes stiff and cold.

But he doesn’t get to stay dead. When he wakes, he has to claw his way back up, remind himself who he is and why he’s here. And the next time he pitches forward into darkness, it happens all over again.

So, he’s used to dying.

Then why does this hurt?

It was always going to hurt.

A whimper pulls from his throat, and he holds the star even closer.

He could cradle it in his arms, before. Curl around it as he was enveloped in its light and warmth. Now, it’s caged between his palms, casting soft shadows that sink into the creases of his knuckles as he tries to hold the light in, but it just streams through his fingers while the space between his hands shrinks. Maybe he’s killing it faster. Squeezing the life out of it. Suffocating it. Or maybe, if he lets go, the cold surrounding them will rush in and snuff the star out. Or, without his hands to contain it, all the fire will burst out in one brilliant flash that leaves him blind and aching.

Another shudder ripples through him, and as his head bows toward his clasped hands, a drop rolls from his eye, carving a path down his cheek. It touches the corner of his mouth, seeping into the cracks of his dry skin. When he licks his lips, he tastes iron.

He mistook the blood for tears, at first. Tried to blink it away when he felt his eyes growing wet, and stared down at the polka dot napkin in his hand as his vision went fuzzy. Pretty pastel flecks—yellow, pink, blue, green—scattered like confetti across the paper, except where it was already smeared with red.

He pressed his thumb against the wet spot, wondering how it got there.

“Hey, put that back,” an older woman said. She stood just in front of him, not too close, but enough that he was backed into a corner between her, the wall, and the row of lockers beside him. Her frown deepened the wrinkles around her mouth as she took his hand in hers, raising it up to his face and pressing the napkin against his cheek, just below his eye. She held it there for a second, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Do you know what we did today?” she asked.

“I don’t...” It wasn’t meant to be an answer, but she took it as one. Rightly so. He wasn’t sure what he was doing right then, much less earlier in the day.

“What about the date?”

He blinked at her slowly.

“Okay.” She worried her lip, then ran her fluttering hands over her hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. “Okay, hon. Go sit down.” She grabbed his shoulder once more and tugged him forward, nudging him toward a nearby doorway. “I’ll get your bag and be right back.”

She lingered another moment before heading down the hall, walking so briskly that each step kicked at her long, flowing skirt. She wasn’t quite running by the time she turned the corner, but it certainly wasn’t a walk.

He wondered what her name was.

Then he blinked, flinching in surprise when his eyelashes fluttered against a napkin pressed into his hand, and pulled it back.

Hm. Polka dots. Like confetti. Marred by two bright red stains. He started raising the napkin back to his face, because she had told him to keep it there.

Who?

He paused. That’s right. Or wasn’t right. He was alone.

That’s okay. Everything is fine.

His head throbbed. He crumpled the napkin in his fist and stumbled toward a nearby doorway. Everything spun as if balanced on a point between his eyes, and he could really use a moment to sit down. As he stepped through, the world tilted around him. His shoulder struck the door frame, and he would have pitched forward if not for the door itself, into which he stumbled as his knees went weak. He braced himself against it, leaning heavily on the doorknob while squeezing his eyes shut, and didn’t move until the world settled enough that he could look without feeling a swoop in his stomach.

Identical tables took up most of the room, their chairs poorly tucked, tops strewn with empty chip bags and paper cups. A few crumbs here and there, and some spilled juice that hadn’t dried yet. Along the wall beside him, a row of hooks overflowing with jackets and backpacks. On the far side of the room, a solitary desk accompanied by filing cabinets and a shelf crammed full of books.

One of the fluorescent lights above his head, the second from the left, flickered, clicking and buzzing as it flashed on and off. He stared at it until the stripes of light were burned on the back of his eyelids, and he tore his gaze away.

He looked to the tables again, to the crumbs and empty wrappers, and the crumpled napkin in his hand, and knew had forgotten.

The first shiver brought him to his knees.

It’s okay. It’s okay.

He gasped, clutching his shirt while tears poured from his eyes, but the drops that hit the tile beneath him were red. A howl filled his ears, keening and desperate and echoing all around him. Or maybe it was him. He could barely hear anything above the noise, but somehow a single shout broke through, and his head whipped up to see a woman in the doorway.

Oh, her.

The last thing he saw before the shadows rose up to meet him was the shape of his name on her lips, and then he was swallowed. Plummeting into the darkness and spat out here, before the dying star.

So it hurts.

Because he might be dying, too. Really dying.

He can’t remember what that feels like, but he imagines it’s something like this. With a heat building in his chest while his hands shake from a chill seeping even deeper. Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as his tongue scrapes, like sandpaper, against the roof of his mouth, and every muscle in his body constricts until his head is bowed toward his knees in a mockery of confession.

He grasps his throat, fingers wrapped so tightly that he might have been choking himself.

“No.” It’s barely a word. A croak. A wheeze. The smallest moan pushed between his lips. Maybe it’s not a word at all, but he knows what he means to say as the iron blooms across his tongue. “Please.”

He can’t breathe. He doesn’t even need to, but now he can’t, choking as something wells in his throat. Guilt, maybe. How much has he pushed this mind away this past year? It’s not like he didn’t feel it. The pull. At first, just the brush of someone reaching out every couple weeks. Then a firm tug every few days. Then every day, as the gentleness gave way to desperation and pokes and prods that made him snap his teeth.

He wanted to answer. Wanted nothing more than to sink into this dream and see that familiar face. He’s sure he would be received with a smile, despite turning his back on it for so long. But he couldn’t. Not until he was ready. Did he even notice when it stopped reaching out? He tries, now, to recall the last time he felt that nudge against his mind.

How long ago was it? A few days, a week, a month. He can’t say. Time is such a difficult thing.

And now...and now...

He tries to reach back. Presses the star against his chest and wills the dream open, waits for the light streaming into the darkness to coalesce into the shape he knows so well. Instead, heat blooms in his chest, as if all the warmth the star lost has found a home behind his ribs. A spark catching and settings his organs on fire as it tries to burn him out.

So maybe he’s choking on his guilt, or it’s maybe just the mass squirming in his throat. He can’t feel it against his hand, but it’s there. Wriggling as it tries to dislodge itself. Scratching against the muscle. He imagines his throat splitting open and a fleshy mass spewing into the stars, squirming amongst the gore as it drifts into space. But no blood wells beneath his fingers.

He wouldn’t even care if it did.

He tries to gasp out, “Please, no, please,” but his chest squeezes and crushes the words before they can form.

No, that’s not quite right. It’s not a press in, but out, grinding the plea against his rib cage. A fullness, like when you eat too much and your stomach stretches to its limits, except the feeling rises from a place deeper within him. Where his heart used to be, where his core now resides beneath layers of ozone and ectoplasm that he moulded in a facsimile of flesh. A little too much swelling against the limits of this body and pulling his skin taut, something that should not be possible for a being who contains galaxies.

His mouth opens, though no sound falls out. He’s not even sure which of them he would be crying for, now, if anything but blood were pouring from his eyes.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go, please.

The stars around them blur. Not dying, just swallowed by the spots dancing at the edge of his vision. His eyes want to fall shut, but he refuses, afraid that if he even blinks, the star will disappear while he’s not watching.

It’s slipped from his grasp while he was thrashing and gritting his teeth. Flares burst off it in every direction as it shrinks smaller and smaller. He reaches toward it with one hand while the other clutches at his chest.

Stop this.

How?

Get it out.

The thing in his throat squirms and slips further down.

Get out!

Cracks spread along his chest. His skin burns as it splits open along old wounds, up his neck and across his jaw. He digs his fingers into the cracks, reaching inside his chest until he finds something soft and fleshy, and he squeezes.

Lightning rips through him, setting every nerve on fire, and his jaw snaps shut. A crack rings out as something in inside him gives. The sound echoes through his head. Blood oozes alongside the ectoplasm as he withdraws his hand, and the cracks along his skin seal once more. The heat rushes out of him, and though the throb in his chest is still there, it’s ebbed slightly, and he finally goes limp.

At the same moment, the star goes out.

—

Masterpost | Next chapter

[britt-kageryuu]

Donnie is streaming, his model is dressed in black/purple tech pants, a dark purple tank top, and black/purple boots. The model is in the VR space. Shelldon and River are wandering around the space.

Donnie: Okay, that took a long time to set up, but finally I can show off a new program I made to use with the VR system.

Virtual confetti goes off with some fanfare.

Donnie: It's not been mentioned, but might be hinted that I am a turtle of Fashion as well as tech & science. So this program will probably help with the fashion side of my future plans.

He moves to the side and a dressform appears. The space shifts to a more fashion design studio type set.

Donnie: While I usually don't show my work while it's still in an alpha/beta phase, but this is a good way to test this program. So to begin, I am going to do a couple of basic stuff.

He moves his arms and a few 'fabric rolls' appear, and a few clothes patterns float just to the side. He takes a few minutes to choose which fabric he will use, has it spread out and the patterns 'cut' the pieces which float close to the dressform.

Donnie: While I myself don't have much experience with clothes making, so I don't know how well this will translate to real life, I figured this would be a good way to figure if my ideas would look good.

Donnie then, with the instructions on how the pieces were supposed to fit, put the the dress together like a puzzle on the dressform. He then repeats this with other 'fabric' and added, and swapped the pieces of this dress.

The chat is very mixed on this, some are interested, some wish to try this themselves, others want to jump into the space, and take over this project.

Shelldon and River are just playing around with the 'props' scattered around the area, at one point they are trying on tiny hats, not doing their jobs what-so-ever. This is what some of the chat decide to focus on.

There are still mixed reactions on Donnies first finished work, but he just moves on to continue testing his new program.

Masterpost

[zazter-den]

Stained Glass Circumstances

Series: Snippet 1, Current, Ch. 1 Foul-Mouthed Frit,

Synopsis- Captain Kirishima tries to focus on duty among the dogwoods of the onsen. Easier said than done.

Warnings- Servant Dynamics, Concubine Dynamics, Suggestive Themes, Hot Spring Setting.

Tags- Less explicit prologue, No Sex, Fantasy AU, Dragon!Kirishima, GuardCapt!Kiri,KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader.

Word Count- 800 Prologue II

As Captain Kirishima traversed the dimly lit hallways, he couldn't help but catch whispers and curious glances from the castle servants and guests. The news of King Bakugou's latest acquisition—the very person he now cradled in his arms—was spreading like wildfire throughout the castle grounds.

The eyes of the castle staff, those less accustomed to the extremes of the king at least, lingered on the pair as they passed. Some glanced with genuine curiosity, while others showed a mix of respect and envy towards the Captain of the Guard. Yet, Kirishima's focus remained solely on the task at hand, one he cherished: ensuring your well-being after your night with the unconventional ruler.

Leaving the confines of the castle, he stepped into the castle courtyard, embraced by the stillness of the night. Above him, the starry sky spread like a sparkling blanket, the moon illuminating his path. The sweet scent of blooming dogwoods filled the air, their delicate petals scattered across the ground like silken confetti.

In the tranquil beauty of the gardens, still groggy from the earlier encounter with King Bakugou, you stirred in Kirishima's arms. The sound of a voice, drowsy and sweet, reached his ears as you expressed your appreciation for his assistance. He chuckled, the sound a pleasant rumble you could feel, and a warm smile graced his lips.

"It's my honor." Captain Kirishima replied, his deep voice laden with a tenderness only reserved for those closest to his heart. "Rest assured, you're in good hands." Barely restrained adoration for you lighting up his scarlet eyes.

Approaching the entrance of the hot spring cavern, you marveled at the sight before them same as every night, the Captain never failed to find your awe endearing. The cave was carved from a giant geode, its walls sparkling with an array of crystals that shimmered in the moonlight. Smooth pools held healing mineral water bubbled up through the tiny cracks and fissures below, warm water surrounded by the gentle embrace of towering dogwoods within the geode walls. Their delicate blooms added a touch of softness to the surroundings, the ombre petals floating upon the water's surface.

The most captivating feature of the structure was the giant hole in the ceiling—nature's own skylight. It allowed the moon's luminous rays to stream in, casting a ethereal glow on the warm pools. The combination of moonlight and crystal created a dreamlike ambiance, enchanting anyone who set foot in the cave.

Every night the sight would take your breath away. And every night Captain Kirishima would lose his in response.

He carefully set you down at the edge of your favored pool, turning away to offer privacy as you unwrapped the crimson Captain's cloak enveloping your tired body. It was a reminder of the boundaries that existed between them—the duty that he held to both his king and his own code. A boundary that Captain Kirishima knew he was beginning to toe.

With the warmth of the onsen air embracing them, you slowly entered the healing water, the delicate dogwood petals floating on the surface shifting as you made your way further in.

Turning back to face the water, to face you, Kirishima's heart ached as much as his sore body. His mind fully aware of the consequences that awaited him if he were discovered lingering.

But still, his gaze stayed on you, captivated by the sight of you wading closer to the ethereal glow of moonlight, surrounded by the enchanting ambiance of the cave. As you settled into the middle of the healing waters, Kirishima knelt by the pool's edge. Nights like these stirred a tender and treachorous longing within his heart. Despite his position as a loyal servant to the king, his feelings for you undoubtedly went beyond mere duty.

Gently, Kirishima reached down, trailing his bruised hand along the smooth surface of the water, ancient minerals slowly began to knit the laceration from this afternoon, causing ripples to dance across the pool's surface. The reflections of the stars and dark sky above seemed to come alive in the swirling water, mirroring the turbulent emotions within the captain's own heart.

He shouldn't be this close.

Kirishima reluctantly forced himself to stand. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, facing away from the pool, a quiet sigh escaped his lips. He knew he shouldn't have developed these feelings for one of the concubines of Bakugou, the barbaric royal he swore to serve. But the heart, the soul, has a way of weaving its own tapestry, ignoring the boundaries set by duty and loyalties.

The impacts from King Bakugou's winning blow during their sparring match still rattled his body, adding an additional injury to insult this time around. Residual pain etched on his face as he began to walk away from the steamy waters, towards the cavern exit.

"Wait, Captain…!" your voice reached out to him from behind, words soft and filled with a gentle insistence. "You…should join me."

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Wishing nonnie and you all the sweetest of dreams ❛ ֊ ❛

Comment/tag for what you might like to see of this series!

[ryuwonieebae]

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏

𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎(원우), Imagines, One-shot

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

Pairing : wonwoo x gn!reader

Genre : fluff, romance, humour(?)

Word count : 530

Warning : use of pet names(shorty)(?), mentions of crying, use of curse words, Wonwoo and y/n are besties, confession, mention of Mingyu, reader's shorter than Wonwoo, addrative = attractive+addictive

A/n : This fanfiction is purely based on my imagination only. It's totally fictional. I hope this is good enough to make you guys happy. I'm still learning to write creatively. Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot to me. Thanks to my besties too<3...

Wonwoo and you are bestfriends. Both of you yearn for each other's love in secrecy until that one night, when he confesses to you..

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

You whimpered as you tried to fight your tears which were streaming down your face helplessly. But you're efforts in vain as you recalled what you've accomplished.

"Stop crying y/n!"

"You don't understand Wonwoo!"

The tall guy was absolutely perplexed looking at his bestie as he knew that you're not the person to cry easily. He's cracking his mind maybe because you didn't even tell him what had actually happened.

"Can you at least tell me what happened? Gosh!"

Wonwoo grunted as he settled down on the couch in front of you. You got a glimpse of him stirring the hot chocolate hastily waiting for you to give him an answer. He looked so cushy and addractive. Thanks to the woolen sweater you bought for him last Christmas and the round glasses he was wearing that were covered by his raven hair strands. You didn't know for how long you were staring at him, your long term crush until he looked up at you catching you off guard.

"Tell me what happened before I throw you out of the window shorty"

You were not flabbergasted by his audacity to tell that. You were used to it by now.

"I just ended a four year relationship"

"Shit! What? Well anyways I'm so sorry to hear that"

"It's okay it wasn't my relationship"

Wonwoo's jaw dropped. His monolid eyes broadened as they darted towards you who was keeping on a cool face as if you did nothing.

"It was actually Mingyu's idea. Remember he told us that his so called girlfriend was cheating? I couldn't see him breaking down every single second. So yeah"

"Then why were you crying?"

"Do you know what crocodile tears mean? And to make you convinced I made it a bit more dramatic"

Wonwoo let out a disbelief chuckle as he gulped down the hot chocolate which was still warm despite the frosty temperature outside. You huffed as you made your way towards Wonwoo, gliding your hands around his tiny waist, you embraced him.

"It's not fair. My cardigan is too old and I can't tolerate the coldness. Cover me with yours, please"

Despite his now-flushed cheek, Wonwoo wrapped you with his overlarge cardigan. Your mouth curved into a smile when you felt his warmth surrounding you. You loosened up yourself and closed your eyes, allowing yourself into your dreamland.

Wonwoo admired your face, your features. Little did you know, Wonwoo had laid his eyes on you since the first day you guys met. You were wearing a woolen white fluffy cardigan just like his, with a sweet smile spread across your warm face, playing with the snowballs with the appearance of snow fluttering down like magical confetti. Wonwoo got a rush of butterflies as he recollected all of his memories since the first day. His heart thundered in his chest as he timidly pecked your forehead and nose while delicately tracing your features with his finger.

"For years I have yearned for you, for your warmth and your love. And I finally got it. I'll never let you go, my shorty"

"Okay, my half-blinded black cat. I love you too" you murmured under your breath, still feigning to be asleep.

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

[oldwebmlp]

From: http://web.archive.org/web/20021124094512/http://www.geocities.com/wicket_ash/Confetti.html

Text from page below the cut:

Confetti liked to sit by the waterfall and design beautiful toys from colored paper and streamers.  One sunny afternoon, while cutting out paper dolls, a gentle breeze blew one of the dolls into the trickling stream of the waterfall.  Confetti chased after it, but couldn't find it anywhere in the crystal waters.  Suddenly, the rainbow appeared above the waterfall.  The paper doll peeked through the colorful arch, laughing as she came to life.  Gliding down the rainbow like a slide, the paper doll landed right onto Confetti's back.  "Let's ride through the clouds!"  the doll exclaimed.  Confetti clapped her hoofs together and off they went, with the rainbow leading the way.  Confetti took her friend for a magical ride through Ponyland.  During the ride, the paper doll combed Confetti's mane and tail into hundreds of tiny braids that looked like rows of pastel ribbons waving in the clouds.

[thatgirlissopeculiar]

Dream’s dnf fanart likes

November 2nd

the Dream Team celebrating George's birthday. Sapnap holding a balloon with 'wow you're old' on it, George holding a Minions themed cake, Dream wearing a Minions themed cat beanie with one arm around George's shoulders

George with tiny Sapnap and Dream on either side of him, various coloured shapes around them

the Dream Team sitting on a kitchen counter, a Minions themed cake in George's lap. Dream with one arm around George's shoulders, their lips stained blue from the icing, blue kiss marks on both of their faces. Sapnap reaching out to scoop some icing from the cake.

George in his birthday stream outfit

a polaroid style picture of George wearing a shirt with 'I'm feeling 22 27' on it, a party hat on his head and a party whistle in his mouth

George in his birthday stream outfit, doubled over laughing, multicoloured confetti around him

George slouched in his computer chair, holding his passport, the Earth as seen from space behind him

George holding a cake with candles reading '27', a Minion on his shoulder

George, wearing a Minions themed party hat, kneeling and holding his hands out to tiny Minions and Dream blobs (plus a Sapling who is more interested in eating cake)

a close up of George in his birthday stream outfit, blue stars in his hair

cat!George playing with a pumpkin

George holding a Minions themed cake, candles reading '72' on the top

George, wearing yellow and blue, hugging a large Minion

George wearing a yellow and blue party hat and holding a yellow and blue cake

a video edit of various clips from George's birthday stream

a pencil drawing of a close up of George in his Name Your Price TwitchCon Las Vegas outfit

sorcerer!George standing in front of dragon!Dream, the burning remains of a city around them (art for this fanfic)

George, wearing a party hat, waving, balloons behind him

George, holding a knife and a shield, fighting a chicken

George, wearing a party hat and sash, cake smushed on his face

George holding a Minions themed cake, someone off screen taking his picture

a video edit of George clips and pictures (many Minion themed)

George floating, holding a Minion balloon, Dream holding onto his hand, Sapnap holding onto Dream's foot

George, holding a banner with his name on it, surrounded by Minions

the Dream Team in their Halloween outfits, Dream and George crouched, Dream's arm around George's waist, Sapnap laying on the ground in front of them

a video edit of various clips of irl dnf

Dream, in his mask and green hoodie, running with Chimkin on his head, George chasing them, sword and shield in hand

various doodles of Dream and Chimkin, including one of George chasing them down

George, in his birthday stream outfit, holding a plate of cake. Sapnap is sitting on the cake reaching up for Dream, who is hanging from the fork George is holding

George, in a Minions tshirt, surrounded by Minions, Dream and Sapnap standing behind them, dressed in Minions themed outfits

George chasing Dream, who has jumped off a cliff and is gliding away with the help of Chimkin

[bh-writingdump]

C@ve Sl@ve

Pleasant Dreams

[1st draft]

[Post Medicine, pre-foot injury, pre-shoe]

Dozens of blades imbedded in your back. you scream and shout but the shadows places another. This time in your elbow. The stench of rotting flesh and maggots wriggling in your wounds fills the air. You can feel each of their tiny mouths feasting on you. biting and gnashing in glee. They drop like confetti as they get too bloated for your arm. A sea of them lies below you.

You can’t breathe.                                                  

Vomiting up more wriggling beasts.

Each time you cry for help, more spill from your lips.

You wake with a start, clutching yourself, heaving as if there’s something you nee to expel. Nothing comes up. only spit. A familiar body rustles behind you.

“Fuck off.” you growl, dragging yourself away. trying to rub the awful glancing memory of pain from your chest. it doesn’t work.

The massive Wolf’s so big they take up the entire cave. Even while backing up from its face, (you must’ve fallen asleep beside it) you can still feel the gusts of wind from their nostrils. Laughter bubbles up, you bite your tongue, stifling everything but a bitter smile. Your father would be so disappointed. Weak. He would’ve escaped by now. Hell, made an amusement park out of it while on bedrest. What have you done? Slept out the pounding hail outside. It’s been like that for 3 days. Yet today’s the first day you’ve moved.

Miraculously, the hail finally turned to rain. Stream of water streak down the hills your cave is embedded in. Sometimes, you see shapes in the rain. They skitter about on all fours, long slick tails whipping back and forth. Dog size. Flat arrowhead heads with big black eyes. they practically swim through the mud like a salamander.

Your tempted to test them. see what they do when offered human flesh but no matter how close you get to the edge of standing, you can’t bring about the strength. For whatever reason, they give the cave a wide birth. The one occasion one ventured close, one of its friends slammed into it, forcing it move on.

You wish it hadn’t. Despite being terrified of any more pain, you think you’ll shatter, you find yourself craving it. Craving for teeth to tear you apart into nothingness. At least Sans et you drift away, anytime you bite your hand or picked yourself too hard, the Wolf licks at the spot until the pain goes away, then pins you beneath them.

A burning hate fills your body each time you think of Wolf. The way they nuzzle you awake, dropping dried meat in your hand. Like all it’d take to survive is food. When you refuse, he scars you down. You don’t even care about the bite. hell, you welcome it. until you realize that each time they swallow you whole, you choke on snot and come back sated, like you ate a full meal just by drinking their spit.

One day, you get the strength to leave. Freezing rain burns your skin. One of the dog-size salamander creatures stares at you with unblinking eyes. watching the rail that didn’t smell right steam as it ate through your skin. Turned it angry and red, in some places, you could feel it dripping through you. Your hand, it went straight through to bone.

You fall but you don’t’ remember hitting the ground. Just those unblinking eyes staring back, watching in fascination as you’re stripped piece by piece.

Next thing you know, your sliding down the wolf’s throat, feet first, you try to climb back. hands on their molars but the constant over abundance of spit makes your grip loosen. Added that to the sharp realization of how many cuts and burns you got all healing painfully at once. It takes a full minute for your left eye to come back or have any feeling in your arm. With the saliva, you can feel every cut as it heals. It’s enough to make your grip faulter.

You slide back.

Saliva floods your lungs. As the world goes dark wit your coughs, sliding into their stomach, you see a light grow bigger and bigger until you emerge from a pond like a dolphin.

You clamber to shore the instant your out you feel like the heavy jacket and pants try in an instant. A breathable white button up and brown suit with matching slacks. Unlike the stuff you were forced to wear earlier in your career that made your skin crawl, these were perfect. They hugged your body in all the right ways. Even the shoes were a perfect fit despite the odd combination of wide short feet. 

You stare at the infinite rolling meadow and flower fields and farm land around you without a single barn or person in sight. For the 1st time in months, your mind dies down to a lower chatter. You can almost parse out your thoughts. No siren mind trick required.

How’s it even possible? Were you actually in a meadow? No, it has to be a dream. You grasp at a nearby specimen of canary grass. The grass breaks into segments, spreading its dried-out seeds in your hands. Tiny green bugs half the size of a grain of rice. You don’t smell anything familiar. If the scent of manure mixed with a light floral scent is anyone’s, it’s certainly not from a dream of yours.

Therea’s a splash behind you. You whirl around watching a jackal headed skeleton emerge from the water.

Your body reacts before you can think, tackling the stranger. “Big mistake, pal. You tell me how I got here or you’ll be wishing you were this this pretty suit of yours.”

Instead of fighting back, the jackal stares at your hand, clinging to their white button up. Ey stares at it like ey hasn’t ever see it before.  Tugging at the fibers, even sniffing at a pocket watch ey pulls out. “You have strange tastes.”

An odd blue magic crackles all around em, rising out of the water. You leap off, scampering to the shore, watching the strange monster land gracefully.

“No matter, I’ll make do.” Ey shirks off the coat, letting it crump to eir feet along with removing eir socks and shoes.

You glare daggers at em.

Ey sighs, “you can’t expect to met me and dress me. your people’s ideas of footwear verge on torture than practical.” Ey saunters across the meadow. You try to catch up but you have to run to match eir longer strides.

“Hey! Send me back, you big—” You dive to tackle em but soon as you’re within range, ey reappears a distance ahead of you. Wait, how? There’s no way ey could’ve dodged that for, that fast.

“Coming?” Ey smiles.

“You think this is a joke or do you like playing hard to get?”

Ey rolls eir eyes. “If wrestling would help, I would’ve initiated.” Ey dodges, not even bothering to pretend ey was cheating.

By the time the jackal headed freak finally stood still, you could barely stand. Sweat marked your shirt, clinging to your back and you kept having to wipe the sweat from your brow to see. you crumple to your knees, gasping for breath while ey pulls out a picnic blanket of all things.

“We’re not done until I say we’re done.”

You crawl to the blanket easily making a grab for Jackal’s (Meadow’s) arm only to have it intercepted as ey catches your hand and pats it. You flinch back.

Ey gets this ad look before shaking eir head and continuing to set out food.

“W-what are you doing?” You’re voice cracks. Ey smooths out the blanket. Setting out muffins, carrots, dip, fruit platters, even assembling a cracker with cheese and salami.

You were dreaming about that for weeks.

“Stop it.” You voice cracks.

This can’t be real. None of this is real. Not the well-fitting clothes or the socks or the briefs or your favorite travel cologne, the way the cotton fibers of the blanket brush against your hand or the tickle of blades of grass on your neck.

You can see for miles, no way anyone could sneak up on you. It’s safe. In a sense. Yet the more the Jackal unpacked your favorite foods and drinks the more your throat closes up.

When you’d felt like you were going to go insane the 2nd day without anyone to take to you started listing out your favorite foods. It calmed your nerves, saying how each would be prepared down to the brand and presentation. Arguably, this would be the perfect day for it. Suns out but not too hot with a breeze and nowhere anyone could hide.

“Stop.” You whisper, your knees shaking.

Somehow it felt as intimate as if you were naked. As if noticing your heisitance, Jackal backs up, giving you space, like your some wild animal. Ey isn’t the strange one here.

“Eat whatever you like. There’s more where that came from. Except pepper flakes.. I’m not sure how to replicate those. But I did manage salt.” With pride, the Jackal set a salt shaker down in the shape of a honey bee.

Your mind freezes. What was eir angle? If this place is real, it could be poisoned, if its not, well… you’re screwed. Breathes came like you’re breathing through a straw.

Jackal goes on line eye hasn’t noticed. “Though, I would be careful with the ranch. Is it supposed to be sour?”

Laughter bubbles out as you choke on your words.

You’re insane. That must be it. swallowed too much of wolf’s spit and you’re off your rocker, maybe before that. hell, not like you were all there with Red either.

Jackal cocks eir head to the side. “Did I say something funny?” Ey repeats ranch over and over again. “I don’t get it.”

Your wave em off. Relaxing knowing what this all is. “I just realized something. Doesn’t matter.” Real or not real, the food looks amazing.

Jackal worries eir gloved hands together. “You can rest too.”

It’s like a dozen knives just hit you.

That soft alto voice so disarming in its warmth like a handful of cadburry eggs.

“Liar.” You snarl.

“Why would I—”

“Liar!” You punch em.

Ey doesn’t dodge. Letting you land each one even as your hands get bloodied hitting unforgiving bone, not even leaving a mark on em. Sobs wrack you as you try to keep going but you’re strength dies as fast as it began. “You c-cant trick me.” Your voice cracks. Pathetic. He’d be so disappointed.

[A SECTION]

You shove food into your mouth. Sweet mangos, savory deviled eggs. You’re barely chewing, consuming whatever you can in your path. “Bet this is poisoned.”

“then don’t eat it.” Jackal grabs at the dish only for you to knock it’s contents off, shoving them into your face until your cheeks puff up like a chipmunk. Gagging to keep from throwing up.

“You’ll choke if you don’t spit them out.”

You shake your head. Leaning away like a disobedient pet, swallowing it feels like your throat tears on the way down but you keep eating until your stomach hurts and past that too until you fee like you’ll puke but you only dry heave.

“You can’t puke up ideas.”

“They aren’t even real?! But I tasted them!”

Your body thinks they are.

“then what did I –it’s not real, you really did poison me.”

[…]

“Can’t even wear a suit right.”

“This is exactly how you remembered it.”’ He sighs. “At least let me fix that.”

Silently, Jackal takes your throbbing hands, dabbing them with alcohol covered cotton swaps that sting. Muttering something about “inferior human medicine.”

[B Section]

“Betchu think your so suave invading my mind.”

“This isn’t even your… never mind.”

“go on. Say it.”

“I’m glad this isn’t real. You need stitches.”

Whether it was the way ey said it or how gently eye wrapped your hands, you can’t say but the insults felt harder to push out. “And you’re fat and you’re… disgusting!” You heave. Trying to pull away.

“One moment, almost there, all done.”

Ey pats your hand apologetically. “If its too tight, I can losen it. just because those aren’t our corporeal bodies doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real.”

You flex your fist. You swing it only to fall forward, nothing but air.

It takes not a few breathes before the silence grating on you. Like you’re the only person here. Your breath comes in short gasps as you lok around desperately for someone, anyone.

*panics over being alone*

*Tries hurt self only for Jackal to pull you into an embrace*

[…]

Sob come more readily, to stab em, fork breaks.

For some reason, you plead. “Don’t go.”

Jackal looks just as surprised as you are. Teeth parting as if ey has something profound to say only for them to snap shut. Taking your hand again, your body stupidly relaxes. “Keep talking. Please.”

You can’t bear their touch but the silence is even worse.

“For how long?”

Your throat tightens. You’re not sure if you’ll ever speak again but miraculously as the minutes tick by, you breath again, “forever.”

The Jackal laughs, deep and full. “I’d give you the moon and the stars if I could, my friend. How about I stay until dawn?”

It’s then you notice the sun had dropped below the horizon. Had that much time actually passed? Not like a dream so not like a dream.

[black ink notes]

[Section C]

He says, “alirght.”

I tell him. “Its too horrible. All the thoughts bouncing around my head. he’ll catch me. I can’t let them catch me.”

His gloved hand strokes my cheek. “As long s your in this plce. They won’t find you. I promise.”

“you can’t.”

“But I can.”

Each time a nasty thought hits you like. “I’ll never escape.” Or “It’s a waste to try” or memories of all the things people stoke. The stranger plucks away the angry tear and the thought becomes distant, a vague impression. Before long a dozen tear drop vials are filled with so much set aside, you can’t even intentionally make it worse akin to falling a stake.

“give them back.. I-I need them.”

“You’re stronger than you think but even the strong need a break. Rest. They’ll be here when you wake up.”

You shake your head. the soft silky fabric smells of nutmeg and cinnamon, vanilla, like a bakery you used to hide in. your whole body trembles.

“Would you like me to hold you?”

You nod as firm arms curl around you, tucking you beneath their chin. Before long you nod off.

[black-is-iconic]

To Save A Decrepit Soul

Just a snip-it of what's to come should my schedule free up soon

The stench of death hung heavily on the wind as morning sky bled slowly from dark purplish black to a morbid scarlet hue with streaks of burnt orange and sickly yellow. . The air tasted metallic and stale, a faint whiff of smoke entwined in the scent of blood, decay, and rot the ground was damp and sticky with the blood of the fallen…..bodies sprawled everywhere like discarded toys, limbs twisted and broken, their faces distorted with agony. Bloodstained every surface.

From the trees to the snow-covered hills, crimson stained everything. It pooled beneath the corpses of men women children alike forming a stream of red as it flowed through dirt and stone. Blood soaked into the earth, dyeing the soil red, a shuddering breath fell from your lips as you took in the disarrayed state of your home.

The flag carrying the Lycanthrope Insignia burnt and tattered as its remains flutter about the wind, a choked sob flees your throat as you kneel in front of the corpse of a slain Lycan hardly bigger than a toddler slaughtered and skinned like an animal their fangs plucked from their tiny mouth……what kind of monster hunts the young?

Your mind murmured as you took in more morbid scenes of carnage before you, slit throats, gouged eyes bodies torn asunder and strewn about like a more cynical confetti dislodged fingers littered the ground. The bodies lay still, their final breaths long taken and yet sitting here in the silence the sound of their final cries of terror and their pained screams rang heavily in your ears.

Your stomach churned violently, the smell of rotting flesh and coppery blood filled your senses as you gagged on your own breath, tears streaming down your face. What did this?....Not what but who...and as you sat in silence only one name echoed in the crevices of your mind.....Bellmont.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, January 1, 2023

Happy New Year!

Time zone by time zone, another new year sweeps into view (AP) New Year’s celebrations swept across the globe, ushering in 2023 with countdowns and fireworks — and marking an end to a year that brought war in Europe, a new chapter in the British monarchy and global worries over inflation. The new year began in the tiny atoll nation of Kiribati in the central Pacific, then moved across Russia and New Zealand before heading deeper, time zone by time zone, through Asia and Europe and into the Americas. The ball dropped on New York City’s iconic Times Square as huge crowds counted down the seconds into 2023, culminating in raucous cheers and a deluge of confetti glittering amid jumbo screens, neon, pulsing lights and soggy streets. Across the world, at least for a day, thoughts focused on possibilities, even elusive ones like world peace, and mustering — finally — a resolve to keep the next array of resolutions.

Storm brings flooding, landslides across California (AP) Landslides of rock and mud closed roadways Friday across California as heavy rains kicked off what will be a series of storms poised to usher in the new year with downpours and potential flooding across much of the state and multiple feet of snow in the Sierra Nevada. The atmospheric river storm, a long and wide plume of moisture pulled in from the Pacific Ocean, began sweeping across the northern part of the state Friday and was expected to bring more rain through Saturday, according to the National Weather Service in Sacramento. A winter storm warning was in effect into Sunday for the upper elevations of the Sierra from south of Yosemite National Park to north of Lake Tahoe, where as much as 5 feet (1.5 meters) of snow is possible atop the mountains, the National Weather Service said in Reno, Nevada. A flood watch was in effect across much of Northern California through New Year’s Eve. Officials warned that rivers and streams could overflow and urged residents to get sandbags ready.

Brazil’s Bolsonaro lands in Florida, avoiding Lula handover (Reuters) Outgoing Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro landed in Florida on Friday, after delivering a teary message to his supporters less than two days before his fierce leftist rival Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva is set to take office. Bolsonaro’s exit from Brazil came after he repeatedly said he would not hand over the presidential sash to Lula at Sunday’s inauguration, breaking with Brazil’s democratic tradition. He may also face legal risks from remaining in Brazil as his presidential immunity expires when Lula takes office. His departure followed an emotional final address on social media earlier on Friday, in which he ran through the highlights of his time in office, sought to defend his legacy, and tried to inspire his followers into keeping up the fight against Lula.

Why many rules-loving Germans love rogue New Year’s fireworks (Washington Post) As Ralf Schreiber’s car screeched to a halt on a dimly lit road in the suburbs of Berlin this week, two men were waiting for him. Carefully, they heaved a box of firework rockets into his trunk. Until just hours earlier, everything about this sale would have been illegal. Most private firework purchases are banned in Germany, except for the days leading up to New Year’s, and they were completely prohibited over the past two years because of concerns that injuries could push pandemic-strained hospitals to the brink of collapse. But as covid-19 fears have faded, the tradition of whistling rockets, sparkling pyramids and bursting firecrackers is experiencing a controversial resurgence this year. For the millions of fireworks enthusiasts in rules-obsessed Germany, the minutes around New Year’s Eve are a rare opportunity to break out of daily routines and light the skies above their homes. “It’s all about having fun,” said Schreiber, who paid $532 for the box of rockets that will captivate the attention of his neighborhood for five to six minutes. A different customer, Valentin Lübbert, 45, compared Germany’s annual firework mayhem to a national experience of “catharsis and self-cleansing.” “In the past, when things got especially out of control” on New Year’s Eve night, he said, it was particularly calm afterward. “People let off a lot of steam.”

Despite rhetoric, Greek-Turkish armed conflict seen remote (AP) Even by the standards of Turkey’s and Greece’s frequently strained relations, it was a remarkable escalation. Speaking to youths in a Black Sea town, Turkey’s president directly threatened his country’s western neighbor: Unless the Greeks “stay calm,” he said, Turkey’s new ballistic missiles would hit their capital city. Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s comment on an otherwise unremarkable December weekend followed repeated threats and warnings in recent months: Alleged violations of international treaties by Greece could throw the sovereignty of many inhabited Greek islands into doubt. Turkish troops, Erdogan warned on several occasions, could descend on Greece “suddenly one night.” Both countries face national elections in the first half of 2023, which is likely to ramp up the rhetoric still further, and Russia’s war in Ukraine has demonstrated that an invasion of a smaller European country by a larger neighboring power is no longer unthinkable. But analysts on both sides of the Aegean Sea are cautious, noting an escalation in verbal barbs but still assessing a military conflict between neighbors Greece and Turkey as unlikely.

Putin is increasingly isolated as war falters (Washington Post) When Vladimir Putin visited Minsk last week to discuss deepening cooperation, a sarcastic joke by his host, Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko, seemed to ring all too true. “The two of us are co-aggressors, the most harmful and toxic people on this planet. We have only one dispute: Who is the bigger one? That’s all,” Lukashenko said. As Putin approaches New Year’s Eve, the 23rd anniversary of his appointment in 1999 as acting Russian president, he appears more isolated than ever. More than 300 days of brutal war against Ukraine have blown up decades of Russia’s carefully cultivated economic relations with the West, turning the country into a pariah, while Kremlin efforts to replace those ties with closer cooperation with India and China appear to be faltering the longer the war grinds on. Putin, who started his career as a Soviet KGB agent, has always kept his own counsel, relying on a close inner circle of old friends and confidants while seeming to never fully trust or confide in anyone. But now a new gulf is emerging between Putin and much of the country’s elite, according to interviews with Russian business leaders, officials and analysts. Putin “feels the loss of his friends,” said one Russian state official with close ties to diplomatic circles, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of retribution. “Lukashenko is the only one he can pay a serious visit to. All the rest see him only when necessary.”

As war drags on, young Ukrainians are rethinking their futures (Washington Post) For at least one night, they thought, they would use the basement of the university building not as a bomb shelter but as a place to twirl and hop and stomp—to celebrate their Ukrainian heritage, to again relish being young. Since Russia invaded Ukraine in February, the country’s young people have been at the forefront of both its resistance and its trauma. Some fled their homes or were separated from their families. Others volunteered or deployed to the front line. Many lost relatives, friends or neighbors. All are grappling with how the war has forced them to grow up overnight, altered the direction of their lives, reordered their priorities, derailed their dreams. Stress or grief are never far away. The proceeds from the student dance in September were headed straight to the front line—to support the battalion of 18-year-old Sviatoslav Syrotyuk’s father, who was battling Russian forces in the east. Syrotyuk fought alongside his dad early this year after joining the territorial defense and deploying in and around Kyiv. The experience turned him from a first-year college student majoring in archaeology into a soldier risking his life for Ukraine.

Myanmar’s Ousted Leader Gets 33 Years in Prison, a Likely Life Sentence (NYT) Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar’s ousted civilian leader, was found guilty of corruption on Friday and sentenced to seven years in prison, almost two years after she was first detained by the military in a coup. Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi, 77, a Nobel laureate, had already begun serving a 26-year prison sentence in connection with more than a dozen charges she has faced since being detained. The additional sentence she received on Friday makes it likely that she will remain behind bars for the rest of her life, unless the junta reduces her sentence to house arrest, overturns its own ruling, or falls from power. Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s lawyers plan to appeal, according to a source familiar with the proceedings. Friday’s verdict, delivered in a courtroom that sits inside a prison in the capital, Naypyidaw, was expected to draw international condemnation. “The verdicts were unsurprising—this was purely a show trial,” said Richard Horsey, a senior adviser on Myanmar for the International Crisis Group. “As with the coup itself, the regime’s objective has been to silence Aung San Suu Kyi and remove her from the political landscape.”

Saudi Arabia emphasizes national pride (Washington Post) When Saudi Arabia upset Argentina in the World Cup in November, one phrase dominated Saudi social media, repeated in tweets and videos: “Our falcons are our pride.” National fervor swelled. Op-eds in Saudi newspapers praised the win as proof that a new era had arrived: “One should erase from his mind any previous stereotypical image of the kingdom, and let him recalibrate the kingdom’s reality from that point of view,” wrote one columnist. The displays of national pride stood out in a place where, traditionally, Saudi identity has taken a back seat to the country’s dominant Islamic identity. Social life was dictated by the decisions of hard-line clerics and religious police, who discouraged participation in patriotic events. The monarchy’s long alliance with the clergy reinforced their power. No longer. Saudi pride is at the forefront of a social and economic transformation spearheaded by Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, the kingdom’s young, de facto leader, whose grand plans for the country are grounded in a more explicit expression of Saudi nationalism.

Former pope Benedict, his papacy and retirement (Reuters) Former Pope Benedict, who in 2013 became the first pontiff in 600 years to resign, died on Saturday aged 95 in a secluded monastery in the Vatican where he had lived since stepping down, a spokesman for the Holy See said. The Vatican said his body would lie in state from Monday in St. Peter’s Basilica. The Vatican has painstakingly elaborate rituals for what happens after a reigning pope dies but no publicly known ones for a former pope. Benedict was elected pope on April 19, 2005 to succeed the widely popular Pope John Paul II, who reigned for 27 years. Cardinals chose him from among their number seeking continuity and what one called “a safe pair of hands”. The first German pope in 1,000 years, Benedict himself acknowledged that he was a weak administrator, saying he showed a “lack of resolve in governing and decision taking,” during his eight-year papacy. After his resignation, conservatives in the Church looked to the former pope as their standard bearer and some ultra-traditionalists even refused to acknowledge Francis as a legitimate pontiff.

[azalea-mcyt]

can i request breeding and pregnancy hcs with cc!sapnap :D

i loved the dream & foolish ones ^_^

𝕊𝕒𝕡𝕟𝕒𝕡 𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕪 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

Content Warning: this fic contains mentions of birth. Please read ahead with caution if this upsets you :)

This fic is intended for those with a uterus, but the pronouns are gender neutral :)

➪ the decision of having a child didn't make an appearance until you were having soft sex one day

➪ sapnap was slowly thrusting between your legs, his head in the crook of your neck

➪ he blurted out that he'd love to fill you up and see you stuffed full with his baby

➪ you considered it for a moment because you were both so young, but you said yes

➪ feeling him twitch inside you whilst he came was the most amazing feeling in the world

➪ sweat was starting to form along his jawline and temples, and your body went limp from everything

➪ a few weeks later, your period was late, so you decided to take a test

➪ it came out positive!

➪ you told sapnap and he was so happy, he almost cried

➪ he told dream first since he was still living with him

➪ he was very accepting and happy for the two of you- he even said it was okay for you both to stay with him

➪ every week, sapnap took a picture of your growing bump

➪ it was the cutest thing watching you grow from week to week

➪ every time you had a scan, you added those to the pictures

➪ he kept pictures of the scans in his wallet and he looks at them whenever he felt uncertain about being a father

➪ sapnap is a very proud man when it comes to your bump; he'll always have his hand on it

➪ you two decided to hold a gender reveal party after your second ultrasound

➪ it was a beautiful day with blue skies as you popped the balloon filled with...

➪ ...pink confetti! a girl!

➪ from that point onwards, he would always ask how his two favourite girls were doing

➪ sapnap was the KING of massages

➪ he'd give you at least one every day whilst you lay back into his chest

➪ not only that, but he'd bathe with you every so often, which was comforting

➪ dream was also very helpful if sapnap wasn't around for some reason

➪ in fact, when you went into labour, sapnap was streaming

➪ thankfully your contractions were mild for a while

➪ your labour was long. longer than most labours you'd heard of

➪ sapnap got you to the hospital safely and held your hand the entire time

➪ when your little girl was placed on your chest, you both cried tears of joy

➪ he rubbed his thumb over her head and kissed your forehead

➪ a very proud dad moment

➪ she looked tiny in his arms as she stopped wailing

➪ you could already tell that she was going to be a daddy's girl

thank you so much anon! i love writing these, so i hope this one also lives up to the same standard! <3

xoxo,

azalea

[thrillridesz]

heart racing ▫ j.yn

in part of the adrenaline rush! collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​ + @ickjun​

⇢ pairing: jaehyun x reader (f) (ft. other nct members + twice’s jeongyeon)

⇢ genre: fluff, angst, racer!au, best friends to lovers

⇢ warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions and consumption of alcohol, alcoholism, hitting rock bottom

⇢ synopsis: once a revered member of the racing industry, jaehyun has been living at rock bottom for the past few months following a tragic accident that effectively put him out of racing. it seems as though nothing would get through to him, not even you. will he ever break out of the constant loop of doubt and start seeing things for what they really are?

⇢ word count: 8.04k

⇢ fic playlist: get you to the moon - KinaBeats ft. Snøw | Amnesia - 5SOS | You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift | Confetti Falling - Big Time Rush | Go Season - Devin Bronson (highly recommended for the racing scene) | Love Story - Taylor Swift 

⇢ a/n : unedited! also posted on this account because I’m considering merging my nct account with my tbz writing blog also PLEASE check out the other writers’ works ^^ we’ve all worked hard on our fics

“Jaehyun, you’re ruining yourself.”

The dim room reeked of stale alcohol and something mouldy as the empty beer bottles that littered the floor clanged noisily against the surrounding furniture, leaking golden yellow liquid all over. Old, worn clothes were draped everywhere, stained and darkened with murky stains while the battered television flickered weakly to live, showing nothing but static. The walls were streaked and striated with scratches, as if someone had just been clawing desperately at them and on the floor amidst the empty glass bottles, were pieces of scrap poster paper. Sunlight peeks in through the drawn blinds, giving a teasing glimpse to the bustling outside world from the sad, decrepit apartment Jaehyun lived in.

Sprawled on the couch with nothing on except a wrinkled pair of jeans, Jaehyun’s eyes were devoid of emotion - blank and dazelike. In his hand, his fingers held on limply to the neck of yet another bottle of beer, possibly his nth for the day. His usually shiny hazel brown hair was greasy with filth and his bare chest was sticky with sweat from being cooped up all day in this tiny, stuffy apartment of his. His jawline was starting to grow a hint of stubble given how much he’d completely let himself go and dark circles were appearing underneath those intense eyes of his.

Slowly, Jaehyun lifted his gaze from the floor to look at you, the first flicker of emotions that he’d ever displayed in the whole day. You stood before him, arms akimbo, your gaze sharp and piercing. He smiled, a smile that held no mirth or happiness.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

You shook your head, ripping the bottle of beer from his grasp. As you approached, the bottles, clothes and torn pieces of paper on the ground almost made you trip and you tutted under your breath.

“Of course I am. I’m your best friend who is somehow still here with you. Best friends help each other.”

He chuckled nonchalantly, waving his hand at the door. “Well, feel free to leave then. I don’t need your help.” His eyes held a hint of anger as he did, something that did not escape your notice.

“Jaehyun,” you said softly, placing the bottle on a nearby table as you dread what was to come next. “Please, not this again.”

Your words only served to fuel the fiery spark of anger in his eyes as he said in a barely controlled tone, the irritation radiating from him in ripples that threatened to evolve into waves, “Why not? I’m a fucking wreck and a loser anyways. Leave like everyone else did. Leave like…” His voice wobbled, “leave like Jeongyeon did.”

Your heart fell and it took almost a godlike willpower not to let your emotions show. Was he still thinking about her?

“Jaehyun-”

“What? Are you gonna say I’m not a loser like you always do? Cut the fucking lies. Everyone out there is saying the same thing, what makes you think you can convince me that you’re not thinking it either? Hm?” He spat, the drowsiness in his demeanour dissipating fast as red hot anger replaced it. There was so much internal frustration within Jaehyun that just seeing him like this was enough to break your heart. It was one thing to see him in this terrible state but it was quite another to see him directing his anger towards you.

You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart and to stop the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. Having been there with him every step of the year ever since the both of you were children playing and horsing around the neighbourhood, you found yourself desperately missing those much simpler times and wondering how things became so wrong.

For as long as you could remember, Jaehyun had always been interested and had a natural flair for racing. There always existed a competitive streak in him that thrived off a challenge. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was a game that could have a clear winner or incited competitiveness, he was all up for it. As kids, the two of you used to compete over everything, be it for the last popsicle in the convenience store down the street or past the gates of your school. It was as if racing was something he needed in order to live. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school did Jaehyun decide to take his love for racing to a professional level. He began to dive deep into the motorsport industry, starting out as a mere rookie in auto racing. He never did apply to college, preferring instead to invest all his time into his newfound life career.

His rise to fame was quick, quicker than most. Within his first year, he had won a number of races, beating even some of the well known names in the sport. Every other month, he was winning trophies and exorbitant cash prizes which in return earned him the recognition of famous sponsors and racers. Bumper stickers from the various sponsors decorated the back of his ride and it was no time at all before Jaehyun began to don some of the most expensive sports gear on the tracks. With his smouldering good looks, he also appeared on the front pages of magazines and newspapers, all while attracting a loyal fanbase made up of both racing enthusiasts and adoring admirers.

To everyone else, he was the suave, handsome and effortlessly cool young racer who was practically born to race and to do it well but to you, he was your childhood friend… and your first love. In front of the flashing lights and cameras, Jaehyun knew his way around the crowd. He knew exactly when to flash one of his dazzling, dimpled smiles and how to work the crowd - it was just one of his innate charms. Yet, you knew that underneath that, that flashy, extravagant Jaehyun, was the Jaehyun you grew up with and had gradually fallen in love with.

As children, he was there for you whenever you needed him, always ready to lend a helping hand when he noticed that you were stuck in an unfavourable situation. You distinctly remember what had happened in second grade. It was a bright and warm summer’s day, the lovely scent of sweet peas floating in the air as the sun bore down on the earth. Pigeons flitted over the sidewalks, pecking at the cemented floor and the leaves of the oak trees that lined the streets rustled gently in the wind.

You fell with a loud and heavy thud on your bottom, feeling the leaves crunch noisily under your weight. Fear and trepidation coursed through your veins as you stared with eyes wide at your tormentors.

“Look at her, she looks pathetic. Do it, Johnny! Do it!”

A tall, hunkering boy flanked by his cronies stood over you, his dark, massive shadow engulfing you as you frantically scrambled backwards. Tears were beginning to stream down your face and a sharp pain shot up your spine with each move, owing to the impact of the fall. There were scratches on your hands as you dragged your palms over the rough gravel in an attempt to move away.

There was a malicious glint in Johnny’s eyes and his lips were curved into a devious smirk as he stared down at you, domineering and intimidating. The veins in his arms and hands were bulging angrily and as he clenched his fists, you felt your stomach sink. Your legs began to feel like jelly and your vision was beginning to blur from all the salty tears. You were struck with fear and the sense of helplessness you felt made you feel both ashamed and furious at yourself yet there was nothing you could do.

You held your hand up to shield yourself from the impending attack as the bully lifted up his fist.

“Hey! How about you pick on someone your own size?!”

The group of you turned to see Jaehyun, eyes blazing with anger as his chest heaved. His wind-swept hair hung over his eyes, a surefire sign that he’d run over and his cheeks were red from exertion. Even from afar, he was clearly no match to Johnny’s larger build, much less the whole lot of them.

“J-Jaehyun?” You spluttered, shocked.

“Who is this clown- Ow!” Johnny stumbled backwards as a rock pebble hit him on the head, promptly ricocheting off his forehead and bouncing onto the ground. His jaw was clenched in pain and when he removed his palm, a reddish bruise had blossomed and there was even a faint trace of blood. There was a split second of stunned silence before Johnny turned almost magenta with rage.

“GET HIM!” He roared and his cronies shook out of their daze, immediately going after Jaehyun who’d already ran a good distance before the reality of what had just happened set in. His mocking laugh rang through the afternoon amidst a cackle of profanities and threats yelled at him.

It was a laugh that remained in your memories all these years. It was a laugh that strengthened you, a laugh that spoke so much of willful courage and youthful rebellion which was everything you’d eventually come to associate with Jaehyun. That laugh was bright and so… him.

Yet now, you could see none of that playful mischief and vibrancy in those eyes. All that is left is emptiness.

“You’re not a loser, Jaehyun,” you began softly, “you never were in my eyes. You were a fighter.”

Those beautiful eyes you adored so much narrowed at you, his face twisted into a scowl.

“A fighter? Guess what, y/n?” He sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “I fought. I fought endlessly but did that work out for me? I threw in everything I could, every little thing. I worked hard and put in a hundred and one percent of my effort.”

You stared at him, your heart aching for him as a single tear began to roll down his cheek, tears of anger, indignation and pain.

“But did that work out? No, it didn’t. If anything, it left me a wreck. People out there call me a loser, a has-been and even my girlfriend has left me. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put in, how much I fought because at the end of the day, everyone is only here because of what they think I am. They saw me as a champion, an up and coming and the moment I wasn’t anymore, they all dropped me in a heartbeat. What are you waiting for, y/n? Why the hell are you even still here?”

His words echoed through the empty apartment and out loud, it sounded bleak, harsh and biting. His anguished voice tore at your heart and as each word left those lips, it felt like your heart was slowly breaking apart. Neither of you said anything for a moment, locked in a silent, unspoken fight as he held your gaze steadily. His eyes were cold and there was the look of a broken man in them.

“I am here because I love you, Jaehyun,” you said finally, your voice quivering. “I don’t care who or what you are and it pains me to see you tear yourself down like this because I know you are not the loser you believe you are. I don’t know how much of this I can take, seeing you ruin yourself.”

You can see the slight softening in his eyes and you gritted your teeth.

“I’m going to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t see you ruin yourself and be able to do nothing about it. I’m not strong enough for that.”

With that, you left the apartment before he could see the tears in your eyes.

The miserable, empty can of beer clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the dank apartment.

Jaehyun barely lifted an eyebrow, his fingers growing slack without him even knowing. He stared up at the dark ceiling, a hooded look in those once bright eyes. The stench that hung around him was growing more intense by the day and it was reaching a point whereby he could almost smell himself but there was nothing in him that seemed to care.

Sounds of active civilisation outside drifted in through the windows and occasionally, he’d hear the honking of angry drivers on the roads or the laughter of children playing at the playground at the courtyard below. Normally, he loved waking up to these sounds or at least when he wasn’t off to the race tracks, when he was relaxing with a book in his hands. Now however, he found them irksome, irritating and he wanted nothing more but to block them out. He wanted absolutely zero reminder of the world outside.

Grunting, Jaehyun dragged himself off the couch. As he trudged heavily back to his room where his comfortable bed beckoned to him, he turned to stare at the large, imposing front door where moments ago, you’d slammed shut as you left him to his own devices.

Guilt tugged at his heart and for a split second, Jaehyun contemplated running after you. When you left, there was an indescribable sense of hollowness that engulfed him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand or explain. The apartment was filthy, dark and small but somehow with you around just a few minutes ago, it felt just a little bigger, a little warmer. As much as he hated to admit it, his heart was calling to him to reach out to you, run after you. The crumpled look on your face haunted him but he shook the thought from his mind.

It would be better if you left him. If you knew what was good for you, you would.

The anger in him was beginning to resurface at the thought of everything that had happened over the past few months. His career plummeting on a downward spiral right after his recovery, the exact opposite of what was predicted by his agent.

He was born to race, his family and his friends had always told him so. He knew it himself, he could feel it in his blood, his bones, his spirit. Ever since he was little, Jaehyun had known that his career would have something to do one way or another with racing. As a child, he loved running, competing but most of all, he loved riding in his father’s pickup truck on the way to school. He loved the way the vehicle would zoom past the streets, overtaking other vehicles and he loved the feeling of the wind against his face. He loved the speed and everything about cars or racing. It felt natural for him to pursue a career in competitive racing and a natural he was.

After getting signed with a racing company, Jaehyun quickly rose to fame with his numerous championships, bagging trophies, medals and cash prizes in almost every event he participated in. Sports magazines and reporters would clamour over each other to score an interview with him. People wanted pictures with him, wanted him to sign an autograph for them.

He was the golden boy in the racing world, an untouchable.

In the racing world, everything goes a mile a minute and nothing waits for anyone. After the morbid crash at the June Tokyo Prix, Jaehyun had sustained several fractures to his ribs and a severe concussion that left him in the hospital’s intensive care unit bedridden for several months. The pain was unlike any other and every single move hurt immensely but what suffered more damage than he did was his career and his relationships.

Within months, the racing career he had so painstakingly built up for himself collapsed before him. Due to long inactivity, brands and sponsors began to drop him, slowly at first then steadily one by one. He was also constantly under the media’s scrutiny for a period of time, their cameras and microphones thrusted in his face while he lay helpless on the hospital bed. The bright flashes blinded him and the loud noises made his head pound and even now, he still remembered how that experience was like, shuddering every time it crossed his mind. It had taken Jaehyun countless hours of physical therapy before he could even think of racing competitively again.

Yet when he did, he quickly realised he never could revert back to his old self, the one who got off on adrenaline kicks while zooming along the tracks at breakneck speed, the one who only knew what it was like to win. He was slower, less coordinated. His body could no longer take the pressure racing would subject it too, or at least not quickly enough for him to make a full, stunning comeback.

The tabloids and news had run wild with his fall from grace, writing up horrible, demeaning articles about him. His rivals had mocked him to his face and he could even sense the visible disappointment from his fans emanating from the stands whenever he’d lost yet another race. The thing that really broke the camel’s back however, was when his girlfriend Jeongyeon initiated a breakup.

Jaehyun had hoped that things would turn for the better, never one to give up. He’d trained tirelessly everyday, pushing his brittle body to the limit. He never let up on himself, gritting his teeth through all the physical and mental pressure he had imposed on himself. When the final text was sent, Jaehyun could remember distinctly how hopeless and distraught he’d felt. It felt like his world, the empire he had so painfully and relentlessly crafted for himself from scratch was breaking bit by bit. To add salt to the wound, the next time he’d seen her on television, her body was plastered against his biggest rival, Yuta. Her arms were wrapped around his and her lips pressing against his cheeks with no shame whatsoever for the interviewer interviewing him, no sign of the girl who’d once told him that she loved him with all her heart.

What was once determination and naive hopefulness soon devolved into anger and resentment. Jaehyun began to let himself go and the change was drastic. Where there once existed a time whereby he’d rise from his slumber early to visit the gym, he now regularly slept well into the late afternoon. His diet began to consist largely of takeout, junk food and alcohol and his apartment got more and more cluttered by the day. He’d stopped contacting his friends and family, ignoring their calls and texts, preferring to fester in his own solitude. It wasn’t long before an odour had started to emit from his place, a nauseating mixture of stale pizza, beer and pure filth from the lack of showers.

His appearance was also no longer polished, but rather haggard as if he’d aged five years in a matter of months. He was beginning to lose his fit stature, the healthy glow he’d once been prized on by magazines and gossip columns dimming. It got to a point whereby Jaehyun had begun to avoid looking at his hideous reflection in the mirror, his self-hatred growing with each day.

A poster of him in his racing gear and his race car was tattered and wrinkled on the floor, stained with ketchup and soda. Staring at it blankly with eyes empty of any emotions whatsoever, Jaehyun swiped it up and in a swift moment, he tore it up with a large rip before trashing it somewhere on the floor.

Flopping onto his comforter, he almost moaned in pleasure as he sunk into the soft sheets. Reaching for the air conditioning control, a loud smack on the ground roused him from his hedonistic haze. His hair was sticking up in all directions as he peered over the edge of his bed to see a picture frame that had fallen from his night stand.

Holding it in his hands, he looked at it with a nonchalant air.

It was a picture of the both of you a few years ago, back when he was just kick starting his racing career. He hadn’t yet made a name for himself then as the two of you leaned in for the picture.

You had on a bright, illuminating beam on your face, your eyes alive and glittering with happiness. Your hair was down, wisps of it framing your face as the sun brought out the colour and shine of it. Next to him, you’d completely dwarfed in comparison. He had his arm around you, bringing you to his side and from the picture, Jaehyun could feel a smile begin to crack on his face at the comical height difference.

He’d looked completely at ease here, carefree with the recklessness and restlessness of the soul beneath shining through his dark eyes. His hair was wavy, styled down in that ridiculous fashion he wanted so badly to leave back in high school. He had worn a dimpled smile on his face, the look of someone who knew he was destined for greatness and believed in it.

Jaehyun was about to put the picture down when something caught his eye. He leaned in closer.

There was something about you. At first glance, it would have been clear that you were smiling for the camera but upon closer look, it looked as if you might be smiling at him instead. Your smile was softer, eyes gentler from the first time he’d seen the picture. It was the sort of smile that struck him in his heart, the kind of smile that would make its recipient feel loved, appreciated.

“I want to be a racer when I grow up.”

You turned to Jaehyun, eyes wide as saucers as you popped the ice popsicle out of your mouth.

“Why?”

He shrugged, still struggling with the wrapper of the popsicle. The two of you sat on the wooden bench, side by side as the other kids ran around the park, playing rounds of tag while their parents or babysitters sat watching over them. The sun was glaring down on the earth and though it was a great day to go out to play and sweat it out, it was also a perfect day to find an excuse to buy popsicles with what little pocket money your parents had given to you two. It wasn’t an opportunity to be missed.

“I really like racing. I don’t know if there’s anything else I’d want to be,” he said simply, grinning as he finally succeeded in breaking open the plastic.

You tried to hide the blush that was beginning to creep up to your cheeks, looking away from him.

“My mom says being a doctor is good.”

As soon as you said it, you immediately regretted your words. Jaehyun scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“No way! It’s so boring. Do you want to be a doctor?”

Quickly, you shook your head fervently. “No!”

“Then what do you want to be?” He asks curiously, sucking on his popsicle.

You are quiet for a while as you ponder over his question. What exactly do you want to be when you grow up?

“...A writer.” You said finally and he swiveled around to look at you, clearly not expecting your answer.

“A writer? Hm, why?”

“I just really like reading. I want to write interesting stories that people will like,” you take a tentative lick of your popsicle, the icy, sweet taste of apple flavouring coating your tongue, “Like fairytales!”

Jaehyun broods over your answer, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, neither of you say another word as you sit together under the warm, sunny day, enjoying your popsicles.

“I want people to like me too.” He says suddenly, his eyes shining. “People will like my racing! I’m going to be a racer and people will like me to win!”

He hops to his feet, his popsicle raised as he made his declaration. There is a triumphant, toothy smile on his face and he says it with so much hope and gusto that you can’t help but feel drawn to his driven spirit. For a boy of five foot, there was a lot of motivation and energy in him and there was just something about him that got you transfixed.

Under the sunlight, his smile seemed almost blindingly bright with the shadows highlighting the charming dimples on those round cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and your heart began to pound. Your words seemed stuck in your throat and you choked out, “I t-think you’ll make a good racer, J-Jaehyun.”

You thought your heart might burst as his smile grew wider, his dimples making deeper indentations. It felt like the sun might just be a little too hot since your face felt like it was positively flaming.

“Thank you, y/n.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye and shakily, you pointed at him.

His smile dropped as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“What?”

“Y-your popsicle is m-m-melting… down your a-arm.”

The elevator button made an uncharacteristic squeaking sound as Jaehyun jabbed repeatedly at it, his jaw clenched in impatience.

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” he muttered frantically under his breath, pacing the lift lobby. The red letters above the elevator were moving at a snail’s pace and it seemed as if it’s stopped to pick up some passengers on the 5th floor. How long does it take for people to move into an elevator?

Jaehyun groaned in annoyance as he watched the number on the display crawl up slowly.

This wouldn’t do. By the time it’s here, it would be too late.

Immediately, he sprinted for the stairs instead, his heart hammering against his chest.

There was great fanfare as the rowdy crowd erupted into raucous cheers, the large, industrial sized party poppers going off with a bang, covering everyone in glitter streamers and confetti. Cameras were flashing and clicking away at every corner while throngs of sports reporters flooded the holding area, all trying to reach the champions for their coveted exclusive interviews. Agents and pit crews were all celebrating with the sound of champagne bottles popping and yells and cheers of congratulations ringing through the air.

Jaehyun stood at the top of the podium, shooting the cameras his trademark stunning grin as he posed with his golden trophy that looked to be about the size of his torso. The racing suit he was wearing was uncomfortably hot and he wanted nothing more than to strip from it but the adrenaline and euphoria he was experiencing far surpassed any feelings of discomfort.

This was it, the taste of success. It was everything he lived for, raced for. This was why he always trained so hard, from dawn to dusk. This was why he put his own body through all those hours of endurance training, gym and dieting. It was all for this single moment of true bliss enjoyed and savoured after the extreme thrill of racing. Here on the podium, towering above everyone else… He was truly where he needed to be, where he was born to be.

As he stepped off and the bodyguards swarmed in to escort him to his own holding room, Jaehyun couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Yet another trophy for display on his shelf back in his apartment. He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the feeling of winning but then again who would?

Reporters were attempting to accost him at all sides, all screaming out the same old questions he had grown tired of early on.

“How do you feel after winning the prix for the third year running?”

“You hit a record timing today! How did you train for the race?”

“What do you have to say to your rival, Nakamoto who came in second this year? By a mere few seconds at that!”

Jaehyun nodded and waved at a few of them, still wearing a smile on his face but there was no answer evoked from him. He’d kept up a calm and cool demeanour throughout but once he was in his holding room alone, the moment the door closed shut behind him, he let out a loud, jubilant howl.

“Fuck yes!” He roared out in happiness before collapsing onto the couch, laughing to himself as he held his trophy above him. He badly needed a shower but he couldn’t care less, not with the trophy in his hands. Under the light, the gold shone and even as a seasoned racer, the excitement and happiness from winning never grew old. In the empty room, the victory felt even more profound, the reality of claiming the championships for yet another year sinking in.

He was in the middle of celebrating and basking in his own victory, he received a text.

Jy: how’s my man doing? congratulations on the win honey ❤️

Jae: thanks babe, it feels fucking amazing. you have no idea… also i missed you so much

Jy: we should celebrate. together, alone. tonight at my place? ;) we haven’t done it in awhile, i miss your body, your kisses

Jaehyun stared at the text. He should be happy, excited to see Jeongyeon again after so long. He had been so preoccupied with training for the big race that he’d barely had any time for her. He had missed her yet now that they were finally exchanging texts again after so long apart, he didn’t seem to feel the same anticipation.

There was something about that text she sent that seemed weirdly… detached. He had imagined their first interaction in over a month to be one that warmed him up in the inside, brought him to a whole new level of euphoria even after winning but if anything, this reality paled in comparison to the scenario he had looked forward to in his mind.

Jae: yeah sure

After pressing send, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table and rested his head against the velvety cushion of the couch. Somehow, that very short exchange with Jeongyeon had dimmed his excitement and readiness to celebrate.

His phone suddenly rang, disrupting him from the reverie he’d found himself in.

“Must be Jeongyeon,” he thought to himself and for some reasons as he swiped to answer the call, he found himself reluctant to talk.

“Hello?”

“Jung Jaehyun! I was watching your race on television, congratulations for coming in first yet again! You were terrific out there.”

Y/n.

Jaehyun smiled, feeling his heart swell at your words.

“Thanks, y/n. I really appreciate it.”

“How about we meet for dinner tonight? I know of this amazing Italian place that serves the best lasagna, your favourite! My treat too to celebrate your win, how’s that?”

At the mention of lasagna, Jaehyun could feel his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. The tangy tomato sauce, copious amounts of cheese and spiced minced beef with soft pasta… He would absolutely be down for some well-deserved lasagna after weeks of feasting on plain, watery salads. Dinner sounded like a great idea.

“Sure, I- Wait, I can’t,” he groaned, suddenly remembering his plans with Jeongyeon. Plans he didn’t even particularly look forward to.

“Why not?” You asked.

“I um…”

Fuck, why is it so hard to say it?

“I have plans with Jeongyeon tonight,” he said, ignoring the strange pang of guilt and indignation that hit him square in the chest.

“Oh! Oh, uh… That’s completely fine. Don’t worry about it, we can always have dinner some other day.”

“Really? That would be great! How does next week sound?”

“Sounds good to me!” Even on call, he could imagine you bobbing your head enthusiastically like you usually did and that brought a chuckle out of him.

“Alright, I’ll see you then y/n.”

“See you! Please rest well, you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he replied before hanging up.

What is this warm feeling in him?

Jaehyun raced out of the apartment complex, his eyes searching his surroundings.

The sun was glaring and he couldn’t see straight without squinting his eyes. He must have been a weird sight to behold - scruffy, pale from the lack of the outdoors and reeking of the garbage piled up in his apartment. An elderly woman walking past him tutted disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance, holding her nose as she did but Jaehyun didn’t seem to notice her. His mind was on something else, something more important.

A boy from across the street was staring at him with his mouth agape, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he shakily fumbled in his pockets for his phone. Jaehyun let his sights linger on him, wondering if he should have at least thrown on a coat but as he turned, he caught sight of a figure hanging by the bus stop, looking miserable.

He swallowed thickly, feeling the slight clench of his heart and without hesitating a single second longer, he made his way over.

The heart monitor’s methodical beating was driving him near insanity. If not that, then certainly the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital and the bandages wrapped tightly around almost every single inch of his body would. Not to mention the occasional undercover paparazzi who would try to inch their way into his ward.

Jaehyun stared up at the white ceilings, still as a plank. Every part of his body hurt to move, he couldn’t even turn his head without feeling a painful pounding in it. Sometimes, he would get dizzy spells so intense he actually felt nauseous. His appetite for food or anything in general had since plummeted. Everything, but racing.

He yearned to go out there onto the tracks, to resume his training. The Roman Prix is coming up in a month’s time and he was so far from ready. He needed to get out of this place as soon as possible, even if it meant jeopardising his own safety. His career mattered more than anything.

Jeongyeon hadn’t called either since the day he got admitted. Jaehyun had soon grown tired of checking his messages or asking his publicist for news from her, the feeling of disappointment felt deep within him. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him.

There was a gentle knock on the door and as the door creaked slightly open, you poked your head in. Upon seeing him, you smiled softly and made your way over to him. Jaehyun watched you approach, his eyes following you.

You had brought along a basket with you, seemingly full of items. As much as he wanted to know what you’d brought, he tried not to look overeager. “I made you something special today,” you said, settling down and practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?”

“Tomato minestrone soup!” You exclaimed, uncovering the lid as the tantalising aroma of tomatoes and a medley of vegetables drifted in the air. Jaehyun almost had to restrain himself from moving, lest he shift a bone out of place somewhere.

Somehow seeing you had sparked a certain kind of joy in him. Maybe it was a sign nobody had really forgotten about him yet. He had watched his number of visitors trickle down day by day and now that it was close to a month since he’d been hospitalised, after the tragic accident, he barely got any. Perhaps three or four a week if he was lucky.

You, however, you were different. You visited him almost every other day, no matter how busy you were. You visited his bedside even if you were worn out from a long day of work, even when you had things to attend to, even when no one else bothered to. You would bring along snacks whenever you did or homemade get-well food like fish porridge or chicken noodle soup you’d whipped up yourself, though they might be far from the usual gourmet fare he was used to back when he was still active when he would go for exquisite dinner parties. Usually, you stayed for a substantial amount of time and sometimes, you even stayed the night.

Jaehyun didn’t understand why you would do all of this for a friend, a friend who never seemed to have time to spare for you at that. More than anything, the feeling of guilt in him only grew stronger with each visit yet he was grateful, extremely grateful. Your presence was like a warm ray of sunshine in this dreary hospital ward. Whenever you visited, he couldn’t help but smile even though he could not find it in himself to smile. But when it came to you, it felt natural.

“Y/n!”

At the sound of Jaehyun’s voice, you turned and even from afar, he could see your reddened eyes - a surefire sign you’d been crying. Guilt and anger washed over him in waves and he tried not to think how many times he had been the cause of your tears. If only he could turn back time, he would have shook himself for ever dismissing you so lightly like he did, before he saw the situation for what it was.

He was blinded. Blinded by his obsession for winning, fame, glory and pleasing the wrong people. In a way, it felt like a fog had been lifted before him and now that he could see, think, feel clearly… He wasn’t going to let the right person out of his grasp. The person who loved him unconditionally, not just for his fame and achievements. The person who stuck with him through thick and thin but he was just too daft to notice it. The person who always felt like home whether he knew it or not.

You.

“Jaehyun? W-What are you…” You spluttered, desperately trying to wipe your tears from your face as you stared up at him.

It took a couple of seconds for him to regain his breath, his face turning red from embarrassment and exertion. He should really start leaving those beers and junk food alone.

“I…” He panted, both out of fatigue and relief, “We need to talk.”

“Jung is getting closer, any minute now Hendery!”

“I don’t believe this! Are we looking at a potential comeback for this prix? Push, push, push!”

“It seems like we might be! Here he comes! He is absolutely mad!”

The nascars zipped along the race tracks, smoke and some bits of burnt rubber and chipped metal trailing along its wake. They were a blur of colours to the spectators, who were practically glued to their seats as they watched the race reach its climax. A massive telescreen was displaying close ups and the ranking board with huge overhead lights that illuminated the stadium. The crowd was growing wilder by the second as the racecars zoomed past them, their attention fixed on one racer in particular.

The sleek nascar was streaked in royal blue and crimson red over a metallic black base, looking almost purple and black with how fast it was flying across the tracks. The wheels were spinning so fast that the friction between the tough rubber tire and the rough granite almost lit up the tracks. It was charging forward with a steely determination and ruthlessness, closing in rapidly on a green and white nascar ahead of it.

The adrenaline coursing Jaehyun’s veins was unlike any other. The thrill he got from racing could practically send him into an all time high and a cunning grin tugged at his lips as he stepped his foot down hard on the pedal, his hands gripping tightly onto his steering wheel. Rounding around a bend, he clenched his jaw as he pushed his body weight to the left, the muscles in his abdominals and biceps flexing and straining against his racing suit as the car drifted across the tracks in a perfect arc.

“Did you see that perfectly executed drift?! Insanity!”

“Jung is absolutely on fire!”

The thunderous cheers of the crowd and the loud hum of the race cars racing across the tracks faded into the background as he kept his eyes trained steadily forward. Any time now…

“Watch out, Nakamoto,” he whispered under his breath.

Steering his wheel sharply and accelerating much to the crowd’s excitement and trepidation, his race car was now driving side by side along Yuta’s. For a split second, the two turned to look at each other through the window and even though there was no way of seeing the other’s face through that helmet, something in Jaehyun told him that his rival was angered, shocked and… Fearful.

Jaehyun grinned beneath his helmet and without a second thought, he zipped forward, leaving Yuta behind in the smoke.

“He’s going for it, he’s going for it… Wait for it… And he crosses the line! The legend has reclaimed his spot on the top!”

“And that is how you execute one of the greatest comebacks of all time, ladies and gentlemen. Jung has done what we believed to be impossible and dominated the race! I wonder how Nakamoto feels about that?”

The other commentator chuckles into his microphone.

“Well Haechan, if I were him, I’d be pissed off for sure! But I’d also be worried… So very worried.”

The crowd was absolutely wild when he’d disembarked from the car and as he removed his helmet, he was greeted with camera flashes all around him. He shook his head, running a gloved hand over his hair and he took a deep breath. The air smelled of burnt rubber, smoke and… Success.

He had done it. He had made his comeback.

His pit crew made a beeline for him, slapping him on the back, their faces jubilant and lit with pure joy. His new manager, one that he trusted and helped him inch his way back to the top step by step, shot him a thumbs up which he nodded in acknowledgement as the crowd of sports journalists, reporters and photographers began to swarm in on him.

Yet, he paid them no attention. If this was three years ago, he would have basked in the glory, the attention but now he had greater concerns on his mind. His heart was pounding now for a different reason altogether and he could feel his hands growing clammy.

Jaehyun craned his neck and searched the rowdy media crowd. Where were you?

“Jaehyun!”

At your voice, he turned and immediately almost stumbled backwards as you crashed into him for a hug. The feelings of you against him sparked a joy in his heart, a joy almost greater than winning. He enveloped you in a hug, holding your waist as he nuzzled his face into your hair. Your scent of honey and jasmine was intoxicating, alluring and a welcomed change from the smell of smoke and rubble.

The two of you had been dating for about two years now, each day together better than the previous. After he’d caught up with you that day, it was as if you were seeing a different Jaehyun from the one you’d seen in his apartment. That Jaehyun who had caught up with you at the bus stop was the old Jaehyun you’d missed and it was as if a switch somewhere had been flipped. To this day, he had never admitted what changed while you were gone for those few minutes. He had subsequently apologised for everything he’d done, even things you didn’t see a problem with. It was shocking to say the least to see the unapologetic Jaehyun apologise for anything at all, but not more shocking than what entailed a few days later.

It started with a vase of luscious red roses being sent to your workplace followed by an invitation for dinner. Before you knew it, the boy you’d loved almost all your life was courting you with a passion. It felt like a complete dream, so much so you had been afraid to wake up suddenly and realise it was all just your imagination. He’d been more of a romantic than he’d let on and many times, you had found yourself completely smitten by his stunts that stretched from learning how to make homemade chocolates for you on Valentine’s Day knowing that you liked them, even though he was well known as a terrible cook to sending flowers up to your doorstep every other week.

Within a couple of months, the two of you were dating and deeply, wildly in love.

Amidst date nights filled with laughter and kisses, he had also been steadily climbing his way back up the ranks of the racing world. After ditching his unhealthy lifestyle he had been living for the past year, the change was apparent. He’d started hitting the gym, eating healthier and before long, he was in prime condition to start racing again. Training was long and tough but he never did give up. He was more determined and driven than you’d seen him and though the old Jaehyun would have been gutted at a loss, this new, better version of him never fussed over a loss of any kind, instead learning from his mistakes.

All of his efforts had led to this ultimate moment, the taste of victory on his lips.

You noticed he had been shifting uncomfortably and you looked up, puzzled and concerned.

“Jaehyun? You okay?”

He looked at you, his ears red, a sign that he was anxious, nervous.

“Jaehyun? What-”

Your words got stuck in your throat as he knelt down on one knee, the lights overhead bringing out the sparkle in his eyes and the shine in his hair. Those dark orbs were so full of hope, anxiety and love all intermingled in one and you found it difficult to believe that those eyes were looking at you directly, the emotions in them all for you.

Jaehyun withdrew a tiny, velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. In the box, was a tiny diamond ring, glittering and absolutely regal. The diamond itself was beautifully cut and interwoven into the metal band with microfibres of white gold and it simply shone as the camera flashes went off. The crowd was going bonkers, screaming and cheering with wolf whistles.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly, his voice gentle. “You have always been there for me, always been my better half. We have been friends for over a decade and lovers for merely two but it seemed as if we always were meant for each other. It took me so long to realise that and there is not a day I don’t regret not realising it sooner. You are my everything - my past, present and future. Falling in love with you was gradual, unconscious. I guess my heart knew you the one before I even did. It started with me being in a dark, dark place where I drowned in my own self-hatred and insecurities. I was beaten, defeated and I just gave up. Where everyone did the same, you never did. You were like a beam of shining light, shining upon me and guiding me even if I didn’t notice it at the time. But when I did, you glowed even more brightly than I’d envisioned. I’d been oblivious to your beauty both inside and outside for far too long and god knows how much I fucking regret it. I’m different now though, because of you. I am the best version of myself right now because I have you in my life. You taught me how to love, allow myself to be loved. There’s no universe whereby I’d want to be without you. I can’t see myself without you in my life. I need you, I love you.”

Tears were beginning to stream down your face and the stadium had grown quieter, all tuning into what was happening.

Jaehyun looked up at you, hopeful and so full of love that you thought your heart might burst.

“So I guess what I’m saying is, will you marry me, y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

[midnight-lightning]

The promise you couldn’t keep

Loki x Reader

Summary: You had a future. A future full of love hope and happiness together with Loki. He had promised you this after all. But sometimes promises couldn’t be kept and futures could be broken…

You had hoped, you had believed, god, you even prayed to which ever higher being there might be… but in the end you still lost…so much.

The nightmare you’ve always feared the most became true.

You were kneeing on the ground next to Thor who looked like a total mess, who was a total mess. Bleeding, bruised and at the end of his powers.

You were also feeling like a piece of shit; it seemed that with every passing second it became harder and harder to breath and your whole body was burning of pain.

But no matter the physical pain, it was your heart, your mental stability that was being torn apart right now.

You had a good view passed the member of the black order, who held both you and Thor in capture. It seemed like they had great pleasure seeing you tortured and in vain, while they gave you just sadisticly enough room to see him standing not far away from you.

“No…no…no, please, no…” these words were constantly coming out of your mouth like water, silent and not seeming to stop any soon.

But no words, no cries, no pleads could stop him from his next words.

“Almighty Thanos”, he pledged “I, Loki, prince of Asgard…Odinson.”

Loki, your beloved, brave and yet so stupid Loki stopped his sentence for a second to give his brother a short look, laying all of his faith and love in it.

Before his gaze shifted to you…

And everything just seemed to die inside of you.

You tried to move, struggling to get out of the hands that were holding you firmly in their grip.

Loki put every bit of sorrow, desire, and the deepest pleading for forgiveness in his gaze. It was his last goodbye to you, you realized horrified.

This was the last straw. A sudden impact of adrenaline appeared in your veins, giving you strength and a big amount of anger. And you used this power to push past a member of the order who stood next to you, trying to get out… trying to get to Loki and stopping him from a decision he had already made a long time ago.

But you were only able to make a few pathetic steps forward before a woman punched you hard in your stomach, causing you to bend over in pain.

A frustrated gasp escaped you and a strand of wet hair felt in your face.

The next second you were already dragged back again by rough arms and no fighting was of any use.

You looked up… just out of an impulse… meeting once more Loki’s eyes which were now full of utter sadness.

As you tried again to get your arm out of the firm, hurtful grip your gaze landed on the cold ring you wore on your thumb. But it was so much more than just a mere ring… it was a promise, a future, a sign of hope.

The day Hela had attacked Asgard you had returned together with Loki to fight her off and save your home.

You still remembered how he hold your hand firmly in his as you two walked out of the space ship, greeted by Asgardians who had gathered around to meet their prince.

You could nearly feel Loki’s soft hand in yours again...

Then Thor had come and Valkyrie… and the four of you fought against Hela’s army.

Loki had never left your side, not even for a second. You two were always fighting back to back, defending and keeping each other safe.

And of course never missing an opportunity to tease the other or you just being the target of Loki’s sarcasm.

And like at the end of every battle green eyes would flicker up and down your body in what you recognized as a visual check for any injuries.

But this day Loki had pulled you into a deep kiss. You had noticed the sudden change, the way he watched you, the way he held you almost every single moment as if you would just vanish, dissolve into air.

You laid a hand on his cheek and stroke softly a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

“Tell me, my dear… everything will turn alright, won’t it? We will save Asgard and defeat Hela. And then there will be just the two of us, right?”

You were naïve, and you knew that. You knew that there are by far worse things the future has in hand for you than just a crazy sister.

Loki bent down and pressed his lips softly on your forehead, causing you to close your eyes, eager to keep this memory for ever, safe in your heart. 

“I love you, Y/N. And by Odin I’ve never thought I would ever feel this way, yet alone say these words to someone but you… you are my life now and I promise you someday this will all end and we will have peace.”

You took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. Just wanting to believe his words of a happy ending.

“Here,” the god said and took a ring of his finger -the one in his colours, green and gold. “I’ve wanted to get you a proper one but it seems like this won’t happen in the near future.”

Loki took your hand carefully in his, as though he feared you would burst into dust. He pulled the ring on your thumb where it fit just perfectly, because your fingers were way smaller than his.

You held your breath, feeling like your heart wanted to explode in fireworks and confetti any second.

“This is my promise, Y/N,” he continued and gently lifted your chin so he could look deep into your now teary eyes. “My promise to always love you, always care for you and I promise I will be with you as long as you want me to.”

•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•─̇•

Back in the cruel reality you looked down at the ring, which sparkled for a moment, mocking you, showing you all the things you would never have, which will be ripped apart just in front of your eyes.

What a cruel joke of the universe.

You looked up and you knew it was the last time you saw his green, stunning  eyes. Eyes which were blurred by the tears that were now streaming down your face.

He wouldn’t keep his promise…

Loki closed his eyes for one single second and when he opened them again his now cold, determined gaze landed on Thanos. “-The rightful king of Jotunheim, god of mischief,” he continued. “Do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.”

His voice broke, just tiny bit. And your heart stopped when Loki pulled out a knife, immediately striking to cut Thano’s throat .

No.

Of course Thanos wasn’t dumb enough to fall for this.

No. The knife vanished and a hand appeared on Loki’s thrat instead.

“Undying?” The Titan sneered and grined triumphantly as Loki squirmed to get out of his deadly grip.

No.

“You…”

No, no, no, no.

“will never be… a go-” 

-silence

These were the last words you heard, the last whisper of a hero… who still fought even when death was already reaching for him.

You would never forget the sound of Loki’s neck cracking. Never. It will forever haunt you in your dreams alongside with Thor’s shout of pure pain.

Your world turned numb. You didn’t register falling onto your knees, you didn’t register the loud and broken cry escaping you. You only felt this unbearable pain and there was this whole new experience of having your heart literally torn apart.

Thanos stepped in front of you and watched you with pure despise in his eyes before he throw Loki’s body carelessly on the ground, as if he was a merely a sack of thrash.

Loki’s eyes,  which had always been filled with mischief, with so much life… were now utterly empty- staring into nothing.

This was the moment you completely collapsed.

Somewhere the world turned purple due to the use of an infinity stone, Thanos and his clan vanished and left you and Thor alone, shattered and broken.

He was gone…

He was gone…

He can’t be…

He can’t…

Thor fell down on his knees, holding his brother’s arm. “Loki… wake up,” he gasped. “Come on, brother, I know… you can’t be… you can’t…”

Gently you stroke Loki’s dark hair out of his bruised face, sobbing and barely breathing.

“Come on… You promised me… you promised me to never let me alone. I need you…”

But none of your pleadings were heard.

His soul was gone, and with him a part of your own.

“You promised it…”

[sugiwa]

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.