#Riot Management Training

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Police Conduct Mock Drill For Muharram Crowd Control

SSP Kishore Kaushal Oversees Training In Riot Management Techniques Exercise reveals areas for improvement in tear gas deployment and public interaction. JAMSHEDPUR – The city police conducted a comprehensive mock drill at Golmuri Police Lines on Tuesday, focusing on crowd control techniques in preparation for Muharram. "This exercise tests our readiness to handle potential unrest during the…

[dutybcrne]

Diluc as a child was definitely rowdy ASF or the sleepiest lil bab, there was NO in between

[tashid4]

Virgin Kirishima

TW ‼️ smut (pls wear a condom)

Kirishima worked so hard all his life, believing that his quirk was weaker, inferior. He forced himself to work harder, training late at night and early every morning. He couldn't help it, he felt like he had to prove his worth.

Now he was one of the greatest hero in town, the powerful and strong Red Riot. He was part of the top 10 pro hero ranking, he was the symbol of manhood and brute strength. He saved more people than he could have ever imagined. We can basically say that he has succeeded in life. He is at the top of his career but there is someone he never managed to get. A relationship.

He was focused on his hero training, always working hard, he never really had time to fall in love. That's why he now is 23 and still a virgin. He was not ashamed but not proud of it either. He does not shout it on the rooftops. He never talked about this with his friends not even the closest one. Denki and Sero were both players, flirting with all the girls they laid their eyes on. Mina had a girlfriend for the past two years, Bakugo was too busy being the number 1 hero. And of course there was you. You joined the group after graduation, you worked in the same agency as Mina. You quickly became very close and she introduced you to the squad. Among all the members of the group, you were probably the biggest flirt. You were really pretty and you knew it. Always using your charms to get what you want. When you wanted something or someone, you got it.

Kiri knew you regularly have sex with Denki and Sero, the three of you were freaks, always escaping parties for "bathroom breaks". He knew it. To say that he was jealous would be a very weak word to describe how he really felt. He was dying of envy.

He spent his entire life training while everyone was falling in love and having their first experiences. Now he was falling being.

Tonight, when he accepted to go out, it was reluctantly. He was tired of seeing all his friends flirting in front of him, while he stayed at the table with his drink. And today wasn't an exception. He was at the bar alone with his beer. The third...Or maybe the fourth ?... Denki and Sero quickly left, Mina following them on the dancefloor. Bakugo had not even bothered to come.

"What are you doing here all alone handsome man?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and you appeared in his field of view right after. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. Didn't Mina said you were on a date on something ? Maybe he misunderstood.

"I could ask you the same question. Not with your date ?" You chuckle slightly at his words. "I was. But he was a dick. So I left."

Inside, he was satisfied with this answer but he could not let it appear. "Oh uhm, I'm - I'm sorry" "Oh don't worry I don't care. The guy wasn't worth it. Backshots with him were laaame as fuck"

He was shocked by your words, how were you so confident. Never holding back your words. Always saying what you think. How was he supposed to responde to this ? Fortunately you did not give him time to answer, yapping about how sex with him was not enough for you. "See, I need a real man, a strong one that could handle all of this" You said that while pointing at you. Of course Kirishima thought you had an handsome body, in fact, he believed everything about you was handsome. He was admiring and respecting you. "I bet women are delighted after a night with you"

His eyes widen at your words. Did he heard you right ? This simple sentence could have made him spit all his beer. His cheeks were probably red hot right now.

"Hgh I don't know...I've never done...you know...this"

You couldn't belive it. Eijiro Kirishima. The sturdy Hero, Red Riot. A virgin ? You laughed, not able to believe this. There's no way his sexy ass was a virgin. "Are you serious?"

If he hadn’t drunk so much beer, he probably wouldn’t have said so much. But alcohol put him in the mood for some confidence. And Damn. There's no shame in still being a virgin...

"Yeah I've never...got close enough with someone to do it".

He had to be joking. This man had so much sex appeal, he was so damn hot. His sharp teeth gave him a bad boy vibe which could have made anyone fall for him. But, however he didn’t seem to be joking. "Shit you really are serious".

He was feeling a bit embarassed now, his cheeks burning and his heart pounding in his chest. "You gonna judge me ?" "Not my style" You gave him a comforting smile, letting him know you were not making fun of him and never would. "How is that possible tho? I mean look at you. I'll die for those abs" A little laugh escaped him, no one ever told him things like this. He couldn't deny the fact it was clearly a boost for his ego. "I-i don't know, I was so focused on my hero training that I never found the time to... do it" "It's not a curse word you know you can say it" "What ?" "You can say sex, the sky's not gonna fall".

"Fine. I never... had sex." It was so cute how flustered he got, all by saying just one word. You were inexplicably attracted to him. He was always attractive in your eyes, but now that you had discovered this new side of him, you needed to know more. You wanted to know all the little secrets he was hiding.

"You know... I kinda want to have sex with you right now Kiri" He was unable to move, completely frozen in place. Having trouble breathing and drops of sweat running down his forehead. You were giggling, seeing him like this truly was a blessing. He was babbling, trying to form a coherent sentence but you shut him by grabbing his hand and guiding him outside the bar.

The car ride was surprisingly silent. Kiri was trying his best to keep it all together, preventing his heart from exploding.

You finally reached his apartment, everything was clean and tidy. Everything in its place. The total opposite of your loft which was a total mess. You don’t even give him time to close the door, you throw yourself on his lips to kiss him. They're fleshy and soft, waiting to be kissed. His body almost respond immediately to your touch. Picking you up with his strong arms that he carved for years. He simply carries you through the apartment, before putting you down on his bed.

The sudden confidence he gained earlier evaporates when he sees you on the bed. His bed. The one he sleeps in everynight. The one he would touch himself in when he could no longer contain his needs. You noticed the change of expression in his eyes and take control of the situation. You take off your top and switch place with him. Now he's the one on the bed, looking at you from below with adorable innocent eyes.

"Do you want me to strip for you baby? Does this would make you hard ?" "Ye-Yeah definitely." With a smirk you slowly started to get rid of your clothes. Being as slow as possible to tease him. You would eventually let him help you unclapping your bra. When you are fully naked in front of him, you come closer to him not once looking away from his beautiful eyes. "I think it's your turn now". You grab the bottom of his shirt waiting for his consent to take it off. Once you see him nod, you wast no time in removing every piece of clothes he was wearing. Leaving him in only an underwear. Through the fabric you can guess how big and hard he is. "Is it ok if i take this off" His only answer is a muffled whimper that makes you smile.

After taking his boxer off, you take some time to look at his dick. It's huge, like really huge. You gently stroke it before taking it in your mouth. Kirishima feels like he's gonna cum immediately when he feels your tongue circling around his tip. He never felt something like this. It's too much for him to handle. He has to restraint himself from cumming because he doesn't want you to think he's a needy little virgin. But without surprise, he fails and after less than 5 minutes your mouth is already full of his cum. Guilt takes hold of him but you confort him when you swallow it all.

You get back up and quickly find a place on his lap "You did so well for me baby. Now you gonna let me ride you uh ?"

"Yes please"

It's unbelievable how messy and vulnerable he looks right now. Probably one of the prettiest thing you ever saw. You start to move on his lap before riding him like a pro. Bouncing up and down on his dick. His hands start guiding your hips on him, the room filled with moans and other filthy noises. You're both sweaty and sticky but none of you care, too focused on the pleasure you're feeling. "I'm gonna finish soon" "Don't pull out, p-please" The moves became sloppy and messy before you both came with loud moans. "Shit that was so fucking good"

You give him your best smile before pulling him into a soft hug, letting him know you're not leaving. His first time couldn't have been better and he's happy that he waited for the right person. That he waited for you...

I know I already said it but please use condoms before having sex 🙏 It could save your life (and eventually prevent you from having a baby) Love you all XoXo

[nomsfaultau]

Dark sbi where Tommy accidentally kidnaps Philza, not knowing he’s a crime lord. And he swears it was an accident! He just, you know, panicked. Tommy and Tubbo were just minding their own business slapping graffiti on a building (practicing their art skills, you see) when a cop started screeching at them, apparently not an appreciator of the fine arts. And since Mrs. Innit would KILL him if he got arrested, Tommy panics and takes a hostage, shouting at the cop not to take a step further or he’ll kill the random civilian he’s ducked behind so he can’t get shot.

Meanwhile Philza isn’t entirely paying attention, and realizes there’s suddenly a small child sheltering behind him from a cop. He gives the cop the nastiest look imaginable, which causes them to back off enough that Tommy thinks his plan is working. Once the negotiations start Philza is baffled by who would have the gall to kidnap him, and so poorly at that. Frankly it’s an umbrage to face the work of an amateur.

Well, till the abductor asks his name. “…do you not know who I am.?”

Tommy squints at the guy. His suit looks kinda fancy? Is it better or worse for him if he managed to randomly capture some Wall Street schmuck? “Hell no,” he hisses. “And I don’t care. I’m a dangerous guy alright? You don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Philza’s laugh causes the cop to advance, wagering the situation isn’t intense. But because Tubbo’s ‘Yes And’ game is a force to be reckoned with, he casually pulls out a nerf gun (painted to look real for a prank on Ranboo) and trains it on the cop. Philza is positively delighted as he realizes just how amateur his abductors are. Oh this will be a riot to watch.

With more bluffing than Tommy knew he had in him, promising the hostage 20 bucks if he pretended to go along with it, the pure manic chaos bleeding from Tubbo’s eyes and ample gun waving, and creative use of spray paint in the eyes of the chasing cops, Tommy and Tubbo somehow manage to book it. For some reason the hostage keeps up with them instead of escaping. Huh. Can you develop Stockholm syndrome that fast? Tommy would ask, but he’s panting from sprinting. And as they live in an unjust world, hostage guy isn’t even breaking a sweat despite the three piece suit.

“You’re not going to get far on foot,” Philza murmurs. As corrupt and useless as the cops are for most things in this city, he doesn’t imagine there’d actually be that much fuss over a random man being kidnapped, but he wonders what they’ll do if spooked a little more. It’s been amusing thus far. The boys bicker, then elect to force him to drive as neither have licenses. They don’t ask him to drive to their homes, instead some secondary location. Smart, albeit Philza will definitely know both addresses within the hour.

While Tommy is busy ‘threatening’ Philza about the consequences of not getting them there, Tubbo just leans over from a bag of chips he’s munching on and offers them to Phil. Tommy rounds on him, less for showing exploitable kindness to the hostage and more for eating the Doritos that were meant to be his. Philza almost chides them for revealing each other’s names, but decides it might just be easier to hand them notes at the end of this. So far they aren’t getting a passing grade in abduction. But he has to admit it’s far more entertaining than the ‘business’ meeting he was planning to attend.

(Techno, meanwhile, hasn’t heard from Philza and is going BALLISTIC trying to figure out who kidnapped him. From the police report Phil just kinda went along with it, and looked terrified after a private exchange with the abductor, which has to mean the threat is ungodly to convince the Angel of Death to submit. Techno’s about to have a panic attack imagining the unthinkable horrors happening to his best friend, and is only holding it off by doing atrocities about it. This is the THIRD secret criminal organization he’s ripped apart in the last two hours and PHILZA ISNT HERE EITHER!?)

Philza has decided he likes his kidnappers. They’re not experienced in the slightest, but they make up for it with bravado, determination, and a certain lack of rationality that is necessary in the line of business Philza is in. Yes. They’ll do nicely if given a little guidance.

It’s half an hour before either of them notice Philza is driving aimlessly and they don’t recognize the city around them at all. “Hm? Next time I don’t recommend you give the hostage control of the vehicle. I could have immediately driven to the police station.”

Tommy frowns, almost more nervous at the implication the obvious blackmail would go unused. “…why didn’t you?”

“There’s no love lost between the cops and I. And even more importantly, you amuse me. I like your…potential.” He grins at the soft click of Tommy covertly trying the handle and finding the car doors locked. “Getting out at this speed is almost always fatal, Tommy.”

Tubbo lifts the muzzle of the fake gun towards him. “Let us go right. now.”

Philza leans over, ruffling Tubbo’s hair. The teen gulps at the glimpse of the holster Philza’s jacket was hiding, sharing a wide eyed look with Tommy. “I’m not exactly scared of foam bullets, mate.” He chuckles lowly at the tension freezing both of them. “Relax. You’ll be home by dinner. After you went through all the effort of kidnapping me to avoid trouble with your parents, I don’t intend to ruin it. I like you two; you have spunk I don’t see often. After all, it takes a lot of guts to kidnap the leader of the Syndicate.”

[halfghostwriter]

Half a year after defeating Pariah Dark, Danny ascends to the throne. A few months after his coronation, he receives many letters from nobles of varying realms, all asking to betroth their children to “Princess Danielle Phantom.”

After a lot of asking around, Danny finds out that, despite the whole “King” title amounting to little more than a boost in power, ownership of Pariah Dark’s old castle, and the loyalty of Fright Knight, the royal titles also come with a lot of influence in Infinite Realm nobility circles. There also hasn’t been anyone in the royal family other than the King since the start of Pariah Dark’s reign, meaning every single noble with an heir of their own was sending Danny letter upon letter asking for his clone’s hand in marriage.

Danny, not wanting to force Ellie to be engaged anyone but also realizing that ignoring all of the requests would make for a lot of angry ghosts who are still mentally in the 14th century, talks out the situation with Ellie, and the two come up with a plan.

Danny announces a tournament for the right to become engaged to the Princess, one that would span across several days. On the first day of the tournament, every suitor would fight in a ring battle-royal-style until only ten of them remained. Then, over the course of several days, each of the ten suitors would face off against Ellie. Whoever manages to defeat her earns the right to be her betrothed.

Of course, Danny doesn’t mention the fact that Ellie’s power is nearly on par with his own, and that she had been training with Fright Knight for about half a year. There was no way anyone would be able to defeat her without her letting them, therefore allowing Ellie to choose her betrothed, whoever and whenever she wanted.

Naturally, all the suitors get their asses handed to them, and the citizens of the Ghost Zone get the show of a lifetime. Of course, none of the nobles are happy, in fact they’re nearly ready to riot when Danny says they can simply try again in the tournament next year.

The tournament takes place, and once again, Ellie wins, much to the excitement of the crowd and the frustration of the nobles. The year after that, they send their children in with hidden weapons, none of which are a match for the Princess. The crowd goes wild, and many ghosts become curious as to who could possibly defeat such a powerful young ghost. She’s far more powerful than those in her age range, and ghosts above a certain age are forbidden from fighting for her hand.

Of course, a few fans realize that the rules never actually specified that the competitors needed to be dead, just within the age range.

So, a few fans of the tournament, eager for a good fight, kidnap the entire Young Justice team and force them to compete in the tournament— without explaining the tournament’s purpose.

[razorblade180]

A Little Space

Yang:*walks into dorm* Who’s ready for scary movie night and-

Ruby:*sitting on the floor* Yo!

Yang:Yooo! Where’s Moody #1 and Mood #2 at? Popcorn run?

Ruby:I had them step out really quick. I wanted to take a moment tell you something important. Something that might make you Moody #3

Yang:What did you break?

Ruby:Nothing! Why’s that the first thing you- sit please!

Yang walks over and sits crisscross in front of her sister like they used to do all the time when they were younger.

Yang:What’s up little sis? Did you bomb a test and dad knows? Oz planning some type of leader extrovert training?

Ruby:Ugh, he better not. I’d die on the spot.

Yang:Haha, then what’s up? You have me a little worried if you’re asking for a private-

Ruby:I’m seeing someone!

Yang:…Huh?

Ruby:*red* Jaune. I’m…I’m seeing Jaune, romantically.

Yang:Ah…okay then. Umm for how long exactly?

Ruby:A few months now.

Yang:Months?

Ruby:Time flew by! I really didn’t mean to not tell you for so long. We were sorta just figuring things out a bit.

Yang:I see, a few months huh? That’s… that’s a a fair amount of time. So are you telling me now cause you found the nerve, or has something changed? *squints*

Ruby:…..

Yang:….Ruby, be honest with me. Just how much has your relationship progressed?

Ruby:More than you would approve, but less than what you fear.

Yang:*nods* Is that so? Hmm, excuse me.

Ruby:Yang no! Wait!

Thank goodness for speed semblances. Ruby managed to get herself in front of the door before Yang, grabbing both of her hands to hold. Yang could’ve easily pulled the girl out of the way but suddenly tensed as she felt Ruby’s hand tremble violently. That alongside the pleading look in her eyes was more than enough to cool Yang’s head off.

Ruby:Please, don’t confront him over this.

Yang:Ruby, you can’t ask me not to look after you. Look, Jaune is a nice guy but I have to say something. You’ve been together for months in secret! What would day think in this situation?

Ruby:He…knows.

Yang:Wh- You told dad before me!?

Ruby:Dad actually listens to me all the way through! He’s always also way more levelheaded.

Yang:That’s- I mean… so everyone know!?

Ruby:No, but I’m sure Blake and Weiss have their own suspicions. They just have no reason to press me about it like you would.

Yang:….Is that why your hands are trembling? You were afraid to tell me?

Ruby:I wasn’t afraid. I…I know how you are when it comes to protecting me. I love it; I really do. This time is different though. *inhales* Yang, I am asking you to please give me some space with this. I don’t want to go behind your back but I don’t want you to ruin this.

Yang:Ruin? When have I ever-

Ruby:I’m excited, okay!? *blushing*

Yang:….What?

Ruby:It…It feels so weird and like a rush being around him. I’ve never cared much specifically about romance in my life and this feels crazy for me. I’m not nervous to talk about all of my thoughts. I stumble around him and laugh about it. Little things feel like a rush of adrenaline! Yeah I’m nervous but…I’m not afraid in the slightest. I’ve never this safe, this…secure around someone quite like this. Have you ever felt this way!? It’s almost like-

Yang:The sun is actually shining.

Ruby:Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what it’s like. *smiling* I can’t help but wonder if this is what mom felt for dad. Maybe I’m wrong, and I know relationships aren’t like love stories but this space have I him right now, I want to keep exploring it. I want to feel these feelings.

Yang:And you think he might change if I give him the riot act. *sighs* I… can see how that would “ruin” things.

Ruby:I really am sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner. *tears up* All of this has been so confusing and new. Also maybe…maybe I was a little scared letting you know. I just…I really do like him, Yang.

Since when did being a big sister get this difficult. Yang still can’t believe their father chose the path of peace! Definitely a youngest daughter privilege. Then again, if Ruby has told him even half of this speech, Yang could see how he gave his grace. She looked towards the ceiling away from the misty doe eyes and channeled the strength to ask a few questions.

Yang:Are you both being safe about?

Ruby:!? Of course! We’re not dumb and like I said, we haven’t…ya know? *red* We really are taking our time with things. He’s figuring this all out too! Cut Jaune a little slack.

Yang:(Okay, maybe I didn’t take that into account. Of course this is uncharted territory for him too.) Fiiiiiiiiine! Fine! I won’t talk to him about it, for now!

Ruby:Really!?

Yang:But you still have to tell him I know!

Ruby:That’s fine. He knows dad knows. I also talked to him about telling you. Jaune actually encouraged me for this.

Yang:That’s a bold tactic.

Ruby:He has seven sisters. I’m positive on some level he gets where you’re coming from.

Yang:Seven!? Actually…yeah, yeah that makes sense.

Ruby:Are you still mad at me?

Yang:I was never mad, ya little-

She pulls Ruby into a big, warm hug. It kinda hurt to think about how big her sister was getting. Then again, maybe this is how dad felt whenever she confronted him about needing some more space? The more she thought about it, it made sense why he was relaxed with Ruby. It would be cruel if both of them gave such a strong response to her feelings.

Yang:I love you so much. Remember, you can tell me anything.

Ruby:I know, and I love you too.

xxxxx

As always, scary movie night happened; although Yang couldn’t really say she was watching the film. As her teammates and friends from JNPR watched the film, her gaze occasionally shifted downward towards the floor at Jaune and Ruby, who shared a popcorn bowl. Funny, have they been sitting that close to one another all this time?

Yang watched the blonde jolt as another jumpscare caught him off guard, earning a stifled giggle out of Ruby while he smiled sheepishly. Lightly, Ruby leaned against him and continued watching the film with a grin that warmed Yang’s heart.

Yang: (Perhaps some space isn’t so bad? The view from here is pretty cool.)

[chunkypossum]

@jules-writes-stories I love that comparison especially when you consider Francesca and Paolo thought their love was beautiful but it put them in Hell. Ultimately, Francesca doesn't take responsibility for her actions, claiming that his love was so strong she had no choice but to reciprocate... Kind of how SJM mating bonds feel to me and partially why I am out to rewrite how they operate in this fic… Very similar to how our two idiots found themselves doubting the love they built in What We Deserve. I also really love how it fits the title. I was going to save this and refine it some more and release it with the next chapter but I keep fucking with it instead of writing so I'm hoping if I post I can forget it and continue drafting. For now, here's an peek at What We Deserve Chapter 8.

Too heavy to hold up on his own any longer, Eris’ head fell to the side, his gaze cast upon the floor. Dulled amber eyes, barely split open to the world, found his father’s umber stare one last time. Breath like the rattling of dried bones labored back and forth between the High Lord’s cracked and bloodied lips where he lay dying. All while the sweetest cries from the male whose arms were wrapped around Eris battled those horrible sounds. Azriel was begging the Mother to bring Eris back to him.  I’m here. Eris wanted to say, but could not.  I won’t leave. He promised anyway, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be a lie.  Perhaps it was another hallucination from an air-starved mind. As Eris’ breathing halted and his vision darkened around the edges, he noticed Beron’s hand twitch. His father’s fingers seemed to inch toward Eris’ limp ones hanging out of Azriel’s hold. Time suspended at that moment where, at the end of it all, Beron might have finally been showing the love Eris had craved all of his life. Evident only by the shade of a scorch mark hidden in the pattern of the polished marble.  A scorch mark that no one would ever see and Eris would pretend to have never noticed.  A touch of a smile tried to lift in one corner of Eris’ mouth as Beron’s fingers, warm for the last time, reached for his son. Though he wasn’t sure he ever managed it as Beron’s eyes glassed over and he exhaled his last breath.

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @christeareads @climbthemountain2020 @lilah-asteria  @shadowsandlint @acourtofbatboydreams @theeternalstruggle @molcat07 

Inspired by — Roberto Ferri, Vanitas | Paolo e Francesca

[majorlysapphic]

I have a lot of time to kill and noticed that the bridgella shippers deserve some attention, so it's time for my train travelling brain splurge (it will be angsty, I'm warning you now). :)

(TW: mentions of living in a heteronormative society/homophobia/internalised homophobia).

(Glassheart will be mentioned in the end because I want to do a part 2 of this post).

Now, I'm presenting an 80's Celebrity/Performer AU!

Now, I imagine both of the girls got into performing in very different ways.

Bridget came from a very privileged background where she was able to be put in various music/acting/dance lessons at a young age. I'd imagine she started her trajectory into stardom very young, starting with modelling and acting before shifting into music (though I'd assume she'd still have a cover/runway girl reputation which she revisits here and there). Bridget would have started off as a 'girl next door' archetype, but once settling into her music career, she would soon settle into an untouchable, bubbly pop princess persona. An IT girl with a stage name of "The Queen of Hearts."

For Ella, I imagine one of the only belongings that she has from her late mother is a guitar, so she's always made a small effort to learn, though that effort increased exponentially once her dad passed and she was left to live with her step family. On her eighteenth birthday, she's not legally required to be her step-mothers 'problem' anymore, so with her few belongings and her treasured guitar, Ella begins her journey to be a performer. She works her way up to the top with a ferocious determination, going from busking on the streets during day and waiting tables at night to meet ends meet, to performing as Auradon’s break out 'riot grrrl' by doing random gigs and opening acts. And when she finally gets a label to fund her first proper album, she's asked if she'd like to take on a stage name. Then is when she decides to title herself as 'Cinderella' for a final middle finger to the family that rejected her (by making a horrid nickname given to her turn into a marker of her success).

Both Ella and Bridget carry on their own careers aware of each others existence. But they only properly meet once their music labels want them to collaborate on a few songs for their latest albums they're working on.

And since Ella's manager believes she should reach out to a bigger audience and create a more positive public image for herself (after a few disaster interviews), Ella agrees. And when it comes to Bridget's PR team, they're trying to make her shake off her untouchable status, given that it has some negative repercussions (as there's a decent chunk of people out there with the view that Bridget is 'too fake' and that she 'probably let all that fame get to her head'). So Bridget ends up agreeing to the collaboration.

They meet at a recording studio, and their meeting isn't exactly ideal. Bridget is her typical self: bright, bubbly, friendly. But Ella doesn't know that's what Bridget is actually like. She thinks she's just meeting Bridget's celebrity persona that won't be shaken off, and she hates it. So after a few minutes of (attempted) polite conversation, it gets awkward and silent between the two. The vibe doesn't seem to get better when they're trying to write new lyrics and compose together, Bridget and Ella mix as well as oil and water does, and everyone in the studio can see it. So after a failure of a music making month, both their managers put a pause on their albums in order to run a PR plan.

Ella and Bridget are tasked with going completely public with their 'friendship' prior to announcing their collaboration. And hopefully, if the prayers of their managers are answered, they'll finally warm up to each other (which is necessity for future interviews).

They begin with a magazine cover together which creates a whole wave of surprise with both their fanbases (who are as opposite as opposites can be), and from there it's hangouts across A-list places (photographed/filmed by strategically placed paparazzi). And before they know it, Ella and Bridget have made headlines as Auradon's most surprisingly iconic best friends.

Though what's more surprising is that after all this, they are still awkward with each other. Sure, they may be a bit more comfortable, but the improvement is inadequate to what was expected of them. But oh well, what are their managers supposed to do about it? They're going to have to shrug it off and carry on making their albums with forced smiles.

But then, when they're finally left alone in a recording studio is when their bond flourishes. Because, wow, Ella is finally making sense of the fact that the Bridget she met on her first day at the studio was actually the real Bridget. And Bridget is starting to appreciate the complexity of Ella's character, and putting together the puzzle pieces to find out Ella is a really genuine person. A specific type of person that is far and few in Auradon's celebrity scene. The type of person she wants as a friend.

So, they finally ditch the picture perfect scenes they were set up to be in and spend their time together after recording just getting to know each other. As Bridget and Ella instead of The Queen of Hearts and Cinderella. They spend lazy nights in watching bad films, they go out to underground parties, they find a favourite ice cream parlour which they go to every Friday.

They're finally friends. And once their respective albums release, featuring each other (in more songs that was ever expected), they're soaring from the success of the careers.

The next few years are spent in the middle of the spot light. Ella has a much wider fanbase as she appears much more approachable (with the help of Bridget practising interviews with her) and Bridget remains a number one star, helped by the fact people have started to properly relate to her now that she (with the encouragement of Ella) is happy to show some of her more imperfect sides that adds some edge to her pop princess persona.

It's glitz and glam. It's red carpet looks. It's having their posters plastered in every corner. It's living together to set the ideal standard of how life can get if you stick to your closest friends and work hard.

...It's secrets and unspoken truths.

Because after all this time, they're best friends. Of course they are. But throughout the years, there are moments which could indicate different.

They don't talk about it. They really shouldn't. It's always the wrong place. The wrong time. What they have is inherently 'wrong'.

But... Too much is too much, and they have to talk about it. Because Bridget can't stand the multiple occasion's when they're in the safety of their own home, with their lips just about brushing, only for Ella to cast a look of doubt and pull away, pretending nothing happened. Because Ella feels like her heart is being ripped out whenever Bridget is back with her on-again-off-again PR boyfriend, only for Bridget to tearfully confess that nothing feels right when she's with him compared to when she's with Ella (and Ella has to grit her teeth every time, because Bridget's 'boyfriend' is the bassist to a wildly popular punk group, 'Uliana's Crew', and she knows that in the publics eyes, she can't match the debonair charm of James Hook. Even if she can be a better partner to Bridget in so many ways).

Neither of them can stomach another night after award shows, dressed to the nines and drunk on disgustingly expensive champagne, trading touches that are too intimate for 'just friends' and whispering in each others ears in the corner of a room. They can no longer ignore the curious looks they get from the people closest to them when they both release album after album, the songs within so obviously being able to be seen as romantic so long as the listener knows the right context the lyrics are referring to. So long as the listener starts swapping 'he' to 'she' in their head during the song.

The confrontation is full of tears and anguish. Both of them know what they feel but neither fully express it.

Bridget, whilst being privileged in many aspects, comes from background where anything out of the norm is unacceptable (she knows, but never says, that the reason she was supported in her career by her family is due to the fact that they thought it was a passing interest. Something that would leave, but once she took off into stardom, it was too late to take things back). She's been put on a pedestal all her life, and what could other's think (her fans, who she lives and breathes and performs for) if she finally speaks up on the fact that she's never been interested in boys. Even thinking of the fact makes her nauseous, because after so long listening to others, she also feels its wrong, even though it feels the exact opposite.

It kills her inside to know that Auradon would be raving about how much they adore the match between a conventional pop princess and a jaded/edgy artist, so long as said artist was a boy.

And when it comes to Ella. She has built her entire livelihood off of her music. It's the one thing that's kept her going in her roughest moments - she has no clue what meaning she'd find in life if she lost it. Because whilst her fans are more accepting (hell, a large percentage are part of the LGBTQ+ community themselves), she knows that other people won't be. That they'd pull her limb from limb and strip her of her career which she gave everything in her for, as an act for revenge for 'spoiling' the 'perfect' image of Bridget they had in their narrow-minded heads. She hates it. She hates The Queen of Hearts. And she loves Bridget.

In conclusion: Bridget would be okay with being in love with Ella if Ella wasn't a girl, and Ella would be okay with being in love with a girl, if the girl wasn't Bridget.

So, they agree to be friends. Carry on as if the talk never happened. They know their limits with each other (even if they are constantly breaking them). And yes, there are slip ups.

Said slip ups act as the highlight of their lives. Said slip ups will cause their downfall: because on a singular occasion, a picture is taken (it's contents: Ella and Bridget sneaking out of a rehearsal studio late at night, hands interlocked, hair messy, lipstick smudged).

The picture goes viral. Passed around. Talked about. Theorised. Concluded on.

Both Bridget and Ella are sent into a panic. What do they do? It's the early stages of their situation being revealed (and they're already seeing hateful responses), and both silently loathe it. The cherry on top? It's not even based in fact, because neither have allowed themselves to even have each other in anyway that they want. Their appearances that night were purely from a hectic rehearsal.

Their PR teams jump to salvage what they can. And when Ella meets Bridget's fearful eyes, they both know it's the end of them. In the following months, they move into their own separate homes and their contact is fleeting. Eventually, the rumours and hate turn into whispers.

But they will never recover.

They'll never be alone in the same room together, ever again.

In the same year of this scandal, a large announcement of Bridget Hearts and James Hook's engagement will ring through all media outlets. The perfect pair: a sweet pop princess (that has been cherished by the kingdoms since her debut into performance as a child) and Auradon's resident, suave 'bad boy' ready to settle down. They're picture perfect. Ella feels sick (so does Bridget), and she makes sure to cross out a firm rejection on her invite to the wedding.

And Ella forces herself to move on. She finds a calm yet fun actor, Christopher Charming. She decides to try love him. She can love him. She does love him in her own way. It's not as bright and golden as her love is was for Bridget, but it's quiet and safe. And he understands her and keeps all her secrets, and that's all she can ever ask for.

Years go on and they live finding other joys to go off of. Life is hard but not impossible without each other, and they try to be happy for one another. Bridget sends a bouquet of flowers to congratulate Ella's marriage to Charming (as a way to say she's happy for her, because Bridget really really wants Ella happy... And as a way to apologise for the fact she can't be there to attend the ceremony). Ella sends presents for Bridget's final show (Bridget's much too tired to perform for another tour, and if she gave any more of herself to The Queen of Hearts, all she'd be left with is bones) where Bridget announces she will be starting 'Wonderland Records', a music label aiming to help artists from unfortunate backgrounds succeed. Bridget gives a supportive smile from across the room when Ella announces she'll be retiring at her final albums award ceremony.

They go on with life, and after both have stepped away from the spot light, they don't expect to ever encounter one another properly anymore.

And that holds true... Until you put their daughters into the scene. Because despite their warnings, both Red and Chloe have followed in their footsteps to become Auradon's newest stars.

With new trends coming around and an increasing demand to see artists perform everywhere, Red and Chloe often encounter each other, especially at music festivals. And they despise each other (even if they're a fan of each others music). But you know what people say. There's a thin line between love and hate (and that history tends to repeat itself).

The next thing Ella and Bridget know, they're witnessing their daughters slowly fall in love. Unashamedly. In front of the whole world to see.

And this time, it ends well.

And when attending a final festival for the summer to support their daughters, they watch as Red plays a song dedicated to Chloe. They watch as a lovesick Chloe hops onto stage, and kisses a flustered Red in front of thousands of people and camera's. They hear people cheer in support.

Because a queer love story is just as natural as any other. It was a long, long wait for society to be like this. But it finally is. And it is perfect for their daughters, who were born at the right time for their type of love which they show off so loudly and proudly.

Ella and Bridget meet each others eyes from the wings of the stage, waiting for their daughters to meet them on either side. And they give a friendly smile. Because whilst they couldn't give each other what they wanted, they're more than happy to give the world to their daughters.

They'll continue to be friendly to each other, and eventually become casual friends, but never anything more. Not in this lifetime.

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

Wow that was fun to write!! Hope you enjoyed reading this!! Phoebe Bridgers 'Moon Song' set the perfect tone for me to write this post, haha. <3333

[reasonsforhope]

"Over 11,000 small donors have managed to raise £245,000 ($270,000) to repair a library in Liverpool that was set partially ablaze during a spate of violent acts of disorder that took place in England and Belfast last week [early August, 2024].

Called Spellow Hub, the library had recently been transformed into a community space with job training and outreach activities for some of the most disadvantaged parts of Liverpool, but the rioting left the whole of the ground floor badly burned.

“I always loved to read as a child and seeing a library and community space destroyed broke my heart,” the fundraiser’s organizer, 27-year-old Alex McCormick told the Guardian. “I felt helpless and wanted to do something to help and thought fundraising would be a nice way to replace some of the books lost in the fire.”

McCormick described herself as being “overwhelmed with the response and the sense of community,” and by the time she had spoken with the British paper the fundraiser already accumulated £120,000.

An update posted on Monday announced that work had already started to restore the Spellow Hub to its former joy.

The riots were described as the worst instances of their kind in 13 years. The deaths of three young girls and the injury of 10 others when an assailant attacked a Taylor Swift-themed dance and yoga class shook the nation.

The riots were described as the worst instances of their kind in 13 years...

However, communities have largely rallied together, including in Southport where there stabbing occurred when after a mosque was vandalized in the wake of the attack, local bricklaying companies rushed to rebuild the exterior wall in scorching temperatures."

-via August 14, 2024

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Fall/Halloween! for the prompt could you do any draco fic please!

Draco hadn't meant to become friends with Ronald Weasley. Obviously.

It's just that he was his age and there and what else was he supposed to do while he was stuck waiting for his dad at the ministry? He wasn't even allowed to play with anything. Also he felt sort of bad for him, because his older brothers made fun of him for being a crybaby, and sometimes people did that with Pansy. Put Pansy cried when she was mad and made them regret it and Ron just looks sort of pathetic.

It was pity, really. Ron claimed it was trauma. Their fathers were both appalled, but it's what they get for leaving them in the ministry without proper supervision.

If he and Ron managed to sneak away, how proper could the supervision be, really?

They're on the train, sharing a compartment because of course they are, and Harry Potter is looking between them like someone is playing a practical joke on him.

"My father will disown me if I'm sorted into Gryffindor," Draco complains. "I'm an only child. Can you imagine, the only son of a Malfoy and a Black in red and gold? The cousins will riot. You already have five brothers there, you might as well come to Slytherin."

Ron wrinkles his nose. "And have to deal with your lot all the time? You're bad enough as it is."

Draco kicks him. Ron kicks him back. They're about to descend to pinching when Harry says, "Uh, I thought you didn't get to choose?"

"If you want to go to a certain house, your values obviously align," Draco shrugs. "I mean, our families have been there for generations and they probably weren't all just the same."

Harry turns to Ron, who just echoes Draco's shrug. "I don't know, my brothers lie to me."

"If you come to Slytherin, you won't have to share a common room with any of your brothers," Draco points out.

Ron frowns. "That's your most compelling argument yet."

[stevesbipanic]

To my most lovely @undreaming-fanfiction Happy Valentine's Day love youuuu 💕💕💕 I hope I managed to do all three of your prompts justice (small routines, learning new things about each other, and ghosts of your past) ENJOY!!!!! And Ty @artbean for putting this together 💕💕💕

After five years together there's not a lot of things Eddie doesn't know about Steve.

He knows that Steve likes to colour co-ordinate the calendar on their fridge and that his favourite day of the month is the first since he gets to write out everything on a clean slate.

He also knows that Steve has a particular way he does his hair, and that it was a big deal just seeing it done let alone being taught how to do it, it helps he now knows Steve loves a good head scratch.

He knows that Steve is an early riser and always goes on a run, but will shower and curl back in bed with him if Eddie is still asleep.

He knows that there's an order to how and when he checks on their family. The Sinclairs are first, making sure he's waited until Lucas should be back from training and Erica back from Tracey's, calling there too if there's a sleepover. Next is the Wheelers, Nancy promising him they're all ok if they're visiting and Mike letting him know if she's available that night if she's at college. Then the Hendersons, Claudia inviting him to dinner in the background as Dustin regales his day. Max is next, letting Steve know if she wants to stay over that night. The Byers are the end of the kids, El and Will promising him it's really over. Wayne is near the end, back from his shift safe and sound. Before they dated Eddie was during this time too, helping him to sleep just hearing Steve's voice. Robin is last and she'll be on the line until they're both safely in dreamland.

Eddie loves learning new things about Steve, especially when now they're further and far between. It comes as a suprise when it's something as simple as tea that teaches him something new about his sweetheart.

They're visiting Steve's grandma, who was a lot cooler about the whole boyfriend thing than Steve's parents were.

"Your grandpa, Otis, had a friend, Freddie, who kept a picture of his boy in his pocket, would've gotten him in a lot of trouble back then but love like that was worth dying for."

She had been I'll lately so him and Steve had taken a drive up to visit her, now living in a retirement home in Indy. She was a riot in Eddie's opinion, and made a mental note to make sure they visited her more, he was happy to drive them, anything for Steve.

They were halfway through a game of Scrabble, where Eddie had successfully convinced Steve that Megadeth should be allowed (it shouldn't), when the question was raised.

Edith, yes Eddie also got a delight out of the fact that they shared a name, buzzed her nurse who popped her head in knowing there were visitors.

"Everything good, Eds?" Eddie's eyes twinkled in mischief, he was teasing Steve about the name similarities when they got home.

"A spot of tea, darling? I'm parched and I'm sure these lovely boys are too. Steve, sweetheart?"

"Oh yes, milk and two sugars please, but cubes on the side instead of scoops of it's not trouble."

Eddie's heart skipped a beat at his answer, "Eddie, you want a tea?"

"Oh um, yes, same as him, please ma'am."

"Such polite boys, we need more grandsons like you visiting," she laughed leaving to make the tea. It was surely just a coincidence that Steve took his tea like that, he's sure plenty of people do.

The real suprise came when the tea was set down, cubes on the side, and Steve picked one up and mixed it in, leaving the other alone. The game continued, Eddie eyeing that lone cube, a similar one on his own saucer. When Steve took his last sip of tea he picked up the cube and popped it into his mouth, crunching it. Eddie did the same.

"Done that since you were a kid, always a sweet tooth."

Steve laughed, "It's how my nanny did it when we played tea party with Carol."

Edith smiled, "She was a lovely woman, shamed they moved outta town."

Something settled deep in Eddie's heart. The rest of the afternoon it sat there, and through the goodbyes and hugs, all through the drive home too.

Eddie didn't mention it as they made dinner, Steve doing the chopping and as always Eddie dutifully stirring. The feeling sat there through the night as they watched tv, curled up in a blanket built for one not two. Nothing was brought up as they cleaned up, Steve washing, Eddie drying. It wasn't until bed, in the safety and quiet of their room that Eddie asked.

"Your nanny? What was she like?"

Steve's eyes lit up, "Oh she was the best, noone as good before her and no-one as good after. She loved taking me to the park, sometimes if his dad said it was ok her son would come too, he was fun, built the best sandcastles. She always baked me cookies too, especially if Carol was coming over for a tea party. And she would tell me the little extra sugar was a treat and that I should always have something a little sweet in life."

Eddie's eyes were tearing up by the time Steve finished, "Eds, baby are you ok?"

"What was her name?"

Steve's eyebrows crinkled, "Sarah, why? Oh." He said, remembering the dark curls that surrounded her face, the ones on her son, the boy laying across from him.

"Your mum, oh Eds, so when the tea? I'm sorry." Steve knew about his mum and how when she died it left Eddie all alone.

"Can't believe in five years, we've never had tea," a wet chuckle followed Eddie's words.

A sad smile graced Steve's face, "We should have more, need a bit more sweetness in my life."

Eddie smiled at him, "Knew there was a reason I called you sweetheart, and I clearly won you over with my awesome sandcastles."

A laugh burst out of Steve and that sound was sweeter than any sugar Eddie could eat.

[shaisuki]

— THE INTERN

ENTRY #004 OF SHAISUKI'S KINKTOBER 2023

FT. IZUKU MIDORIYA, KIRISHIMA EIJIRO, TAMAKI AMAJIKI + GANGBANG

— when multiple partners, usually 3 or more, engage in sexual intercourse with a single willing partner.

• pairing: izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, tamaki amajiki x chubby reader

• content warnings: foursome, dubcon, facefucking, anal, aged up characters, characters are pro.

you're the new intern at the hero agency ran by deku, the number one hero. as a part of him showing you the ropes in being a hero. collaboration with another agencies is a must and now you're standing beside him with red riot and suneater in front of you and you're one in hell of a ride.

“f-fuck!”

kirishima curses out. his eyes closing — relishing on the feeling of your tight cunt around him. “you should have brought her sooner, midoriya.” he chided. looking at the man behind you who was pounding your other hole.

midoriya only chuckles gripping your plush hips to keep you grounded for him to pound with his length and for the other underneath you to thrust his hips upwards to stimulate your pussy with his huge cock bullying inside you.

you couldn't help but let a muffle whine. mouth busy sucking off the other person's cock. making the latter moan in delight albeit shyly like he didn't still gotten used of someone taking his cock. tamaki amajiki or mostly known as suneater is moaning like a helpless animal while you choked on his cock.

it was too much. your holes being used at the same time. you can't think nor recall the events before this. thoughts muddled with the murky waters of pleasure. you couldn't think how you were put in this predicament with not one but three of the most successful heroes fucking you. all you can remember is you were still a hero in the making. an intern for midoriya izuku — deku he is to the common citizens of japan.

“collaborations with the other agencies are a must. rescuing and combat would be easier for us when emergencies are called...” the number one hero spoke to you while riding in the elevator to meet with one of the heroes in the another agency with red riot and suneater. you were given in information that three of the used to work in their school days and defeating the shie hassakai organization back in the days. that were you told and you only nod. keeping in mind what he use to say.

lucky you are someone would say and yes, you were lucky. despite the number one hero's busy schedule he managed to take you under his wing. the sole intern in his agency.

the number one hero remained to true what the Internet and tabloids had said to him. a down to earth personality, matched with his bashful look. you couldn't help but to smile looking at him. his built not matching his look and you drawn your smile before he can see it and when the doors opened in the top floor of the agency with red riot and suneater. the deal was closed with your new training unfolding in front of you — involving the men whose to be far from your reach.

now they were balls deep inside you. leaving you with no choice but to keep up with their harsh thrusting. your hands placed in the timid hero's thighs. he seem not to be bothered from you clawing his thighs while you take his dick inside your mouth. your head bobbing — up and down trying to fit his whole length whilst trying not to gag. your jaw getting a little sore but you wouldn't let it hinder you not when you're in the arms of the men who had the millions adore.

your tongue swiping the slit in his cock and with the whimper he was emitting, he is pleased — more than pleased and then you continued. running your tongue to his shaft like you it was a popsicle. his hips stuttering as he continued to fuck your mouth. the tip of his cock hitting your throat and you can't help but to tear up.

kirishima on the other hand was too engrossed with your body moving. your breasts bouncing while they fucked you and he can't help but to bite into it. pulling it his sharp teeth while he continues his assault to your soaking pussy. your round tummy pressing to his hard abs. rubbing continuously and you were so soft just like he imagined. his hands finding it's way to your back.

deku is littering your back with kisses. the creases in your skin covered in sweat is such a sight to behold. he's kind of disappointed not being able to kiss you with your mouth occupied with his senpai's cock. higher ranking or not. deku still respects his senpai and he's contented for the meantime while your asshole is doing its job well for milking him.

god. your holes were sucking them well. they can your warm velvety walls hugging them with the desire to milk them dry. it wouldn't be too long before they'll reach release but before that. they are making sure that you are properly fucked well and so — task is up.

making the new pretty girl, a hero in the making or rather deku's intern to be trained well with the ability to take multiple villains or rather cocks for them to used. you were going to be such a great hero for them.

you were too lost in the pleasure. red riot's cock and deku's were rubbing to both of your walls that you could feel their cocks almost hitting each other deep inside you. it's too good to be true and fuck you were going to savor it. you were gushing at kirishima's length at this point right now but who would care — not you were being sandwiched by two strong men and taking the other's cock in your mouth.

you could feel tamaki is getting closer to his release. his hips stuttering and his breathing getting ragged with the small whimpers and mutters of warning that he's getting close and to bring him release. you bobbed your head with your tongue wrapping around his lenght. it's almost there. almost there. and without warning he grabbed your head. pushing his length to your mouth deeper before jerking his hips upwards and shooting his load inside your mouth. the creamy, white cum of his painting your mouth white and it's too much that you can't swallow them all. the remaining dribbles in the side of your mouth as you pant. catching your breath from the earlier assault of his cock to your mouth.

you could feel another pair of hands gripping your plush hips as the sound of skin slapping each other getting louder. deku's thighs hitting your ass cheeks while his cock drill into your puckered hole. kirishima's pelvics hitting your mound from the rough thrusts of his cock and you can't help but to whine. your hands finding home in tamaki and muffling your cries with his lips. tongue swirling inside you — tasting himself on to you while you cling to him.

“'m close — f-fuck— fuck.” kirishima exhaled feeling his balls tighten and his abs and muscular thighs clenching from the pleasure building in his stomach.

“s-shit, me too—” midoriya managed to croak out. hissing at the sensation at the familiar feeling building up inside him and shit, he's so close. just a little more.

their pounding getting faster and rougher and faster. deku spreads your cheeks before deeply pushing himself inside you as he emptied himself inside you and kirishima following suit. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix that triggers your orgasm.

you can feel your insides getting warmer as their cum filled you up. both men grunting from how tight your walls are and the spasms it was making to prolong their orgasm.

deku presses a kiss to your shoulder. panting softly as he finished dumping his load inside you and kirishima praises you. whispering sweet nothings as he coaxes you while calming down from your orgasm.

pulling out their softening cocks. deku is mesmerized by the sight of their cum dripping in both of your holes. it is one of the best fucks in his life and he couldn't wait to ruin his intern again.

sweat and their scent clinging out to you. body too spent to move you were plopped in kirishima's body. he didn't mind not when your soft body pressed to him and he wished maybe he could get a time alone with you so he can ravaged you alone and with deku and his senpai, tamaki. the possibility is meant to happen again.

it wouldn't be too long for that to get their you in their hands. after all, you were trained for it. to take them, anytime they want.

it's part of the training.

[a-chicken-with-adhd]

Okay whump fic idea, anyone is free to use as inspo.

Bruce did kill Joker, especially after stopping him from blowing up the UN and killing him when killing the Joker wouldn't cause a war. He kills Joker, not as Batman, but as Bruce Wayne because it was the father mourning a child and not a knight mourning its apprentice.

Bruce is taken to jail (this is very undercover knowledge as to not cause mass panic), Jason revives in his grave, Barbara still becomes paralyzed.

Dick is left with having to manage Gotham, Blüdhaven, Wayne Industries, The Teen Titans, part-timing at the Justice League, and also working as a cop.

Tim still connects the dots and confronts Dick Grayson on overloading himself, he still becomes Robin helping Dick while in Gotham(if more on the investigation and finding evidence and solving cases to give to commissioner Gordan than stopping Bane and supervillians)

Jason still becomes the RedHood, (for more whump purposes) Talia notices that there is something different with Batman but is unable to uncover why.

There's a riot at the Jail Bruce is in and at the same time there's a breakout. Jason is training around the world.

Bruce unfortunately passes due to multiple inmates gaining access to an officers guns and shooting randomly. This is kept quiet. All online rumors shut down by Oracle, not letting the new out until Alfred and Dick are ready.

Dick, Alfred, Barbara and Tim are in mourning. Trying to get the company together before letting the news break to the public. Dick is upset, knowing that he will have to hold onto the cowls mantle for longer. Angry and confused with his emotions about Bruce, his Father, his dad, dying while also feeling regret and shame that they left on a bad note, yelling at each other with him screaming that he hated Bruce.

Barbara is mourning the second Father figure she had, missing the calls she would get on Wednesdays from Bruce who listened to her rants and encouraged her to keep trying physical therapy.

Tim is sad he never got to know Bruce as anything more than his idol, but is determined to become a master at detective work to lessen the burden on Dick. So Dick grayson can go back to being Nightwing full time.

Alfred is mourning his child, his son, the little boy he raised that grew into a phenomenally kind-hearted, if too stoic and emotionally scared, strong man.

Jason, still thinks Bruce is alive. No one told him, he couldn't find this information. Jason still harbors hate that Bruce didn't do anything. There's whispers that Joker is retired or dead, or just hitting the ground after killing a powerful billionaire/trillionaires son. But no confirmations.

Jokers death by the hands of playboy billionaire philanthropist Brucie Wayne, the kind-hearted if a bit dim-witted flirtatious himbo Twunk, is a well kept secret.

Jason makes his debut as Red Hood, harboring Hate for Bruce. Trying to really rub it in Batman’s face that he knows who is under the mask. Angry that Bruce didn't avenge him. Angry that his killer could still be out there! Wandering the streets!

Its night that Alfred decides to let the news break to the world. Jason is out, being chased by Batman, they get into a scuffle, the Red Hood manages to pin down Batman while ontop of a building right across from a jumbo advertisment screen, Tim was working on coms and surveillance with Oracle. Then the news hit Gotham.

Jason was yelling at Batman, angrily yelling about how he has to live in fear that the joker could still be alive, live in degrading self worth that him dying wasnt what crossed the line for his dad, yelling that ignoring what Joker had done just to put him in Arkham where he'd just break out was just sentencinh Gothamites to death, ripping off his helmet screaming at Batman with hot angry tears in his eyes, pulling off Batman’s cowl only to be met with his older Brother's face.

The screen flashes from whatever advertisment to breaking news covering the hidden story of Bruce Wayne, who had killed Joker in revenge for murdering his son, had recently died in a recent jail outbreak from inmates causing a riot getting ahold of a gun and shooting other inmates.

The new anchor draws comparisons to Bruce Wayne's Parents and how they died in a random act of gun violence.

Jason, dealing with too much, runs away. Ignoring the way his whole body felt like it was breaking at the news that his dad had avenged him, had killed the Joker, but it had gotten him killed, shot in the head. Ignoring the calls of his older brother who just found out that Jason is alive.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 7 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, a ton and a half of mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 7 ► my secrets are burning a hole through my heart

When Jungkook returned to his own bunk that night, he drew his curtains and spent the whole bus ride to Copenhagen plotting his next move, wishing he’d stayed next to you as you slept, and cursing his friends all at the same time.

He knew that, to Sid, it must have felt like Jungkook had already lost the bet. He’d admitted to being in love with you, and there couldn't be a bigger loss than the vulnerability that comes with having feelings—not to a loser like Sid, at least.

So, it was a matter of pride that first time in Prague, when Sid proposed the bet. Jungkook couldn’t have his friends think that, all these years later, he was still obsessed with you. Still down bad—very bad—for you.

And a casual date was supposed to prove that he was casual.

He wasn’t. God, there was casual, and there was him when he saw you, dressed up for the wedding, on the train.

He supposed it irked him, this realisation, this persistent, undying love. Not because he didn’t want to be in love with you—that was out of his control, he couldn’t help his feelings—but because this was supposed to mean that his friends had been right.

But he didn’t think they were right.

They treated his love for you like something to be embarrassed about. Something shameful, pathetic.

In reality, it was the opposite. The moments he’d shared with you over the past few days lingered in the corners of his mind, and it made him happy, and hopeful, and lucky, and full of positive adjectives that flooded his mind each time he remembered your smile after that cursed Backstreet Boys performance at the wedding.

And he knew he was different from his friends who only felt butterflies when they were hugging a bottle of Bacardi or sitting behind the wheel of a race car. But different didn’t mean worse.

That had been typical Sid, needing to prove that he was better. That he was superior precisely because he wasn’t in love with anyone.

And Jungkook had realised at the bar earlier that the point he was really trying to make with this bet was that, yes, he was in love with you four years after you broke up. But it wasn’t pathetic, and it wasn’t shameful.

And he wasn’t inferior to Sid because of it.

He could make him lose this bet despite still being in love with you.

Which, Jungkook realised—as he rolled over on his back and exhaled so deeply, the covers fluttered around his bunk—was pathetic. It made sense to care about you, because, at least, you’d cared about him, too, once upon a time. But Sid, most likely, never did.

And yet Jungkook still wanted to make him crumble, purely because Sid went around playing games, manipulating people, and doing whatever the hell he wanted, and never—never—suffering any consequences of his actions.

In a way, Jungkook supposed, he deserved consequences, too. He almost expected inconveniences to begin striking him as payback for agreeing to Sid’s game. As karma.

He didn’t want that, and he was afraid these inconveniences would grow: a bird would crap on him, he’d forget the lyrics to his songs, fall off the stage, get hit by a bus on his way out of the venue—and, to top it off, you’d stop talking to him after learning about the bet.

No. No, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He tried to reason with himself then: did he really care about his Katana that much?

But that didn’t work, because he knew he did.

He’d bought the bike with his first paycheck—actually, his sixth, because he wasn’t being paid much when Rated Riot first started out, and the bike, even damaged, cost a fortune. And he’d repaired it from the terrible condition it was in all by himself; the engine almost literally crumbled in his hands.

He was proud of it. He loved it. He did not want to lose it, not to anyone, and especially not to Sid and Jude: one of them would never shut up if Jungkook lost this bet, and the other one would probably forget about it after a few days, but the principle was the same.

This wouldn’t work, he had to keep the bike.

Then, he tried to find a way around the conditions that Sid had come up with: he clarified that both of you had to know that you were back together. That, unfortunately, eliminated the possibility of Jungkook making it seem like you were back together, even though you weren’t; not really.

But then there was the condition of not telling you about the bet. What if he asked someone else to tell you? He supposed that could work—unless it’d make everything much worse since you wouldn’t hear about it from him, and you’d be so mad, you’d stop talking to him anyway.

No, that was too risky; it wouldn’t work either.

Finally, he figured, he was going to have to win the bet fairly, because of the following reasons: a) he couldn’t find a way to cheat, at least not at this point; b) he simply couldn’t let Sid win, not when he already won everything, because people were too intimidated to stand up to him; c) he couldn’t lose his bike; and, most importantly, d) he really did want to get back together with you and shuddered at the thought of losing you.

The tour bus reached Copenhagen in the early hours of the afternoon.

Nearly everyone had plans for the day before the soundcheck – Taehyung and Luna had decided to see the Tivoli Gardens before you even reached Denmark, and Yoongi and Hoseok decided to be the third and the fourth wheel respectively.

Sid, Jude, and Minjun had, weirdly, split up. You weren’t aware of each of their whereabouts, but you knew Jungkook didn’t go with them, citing his reasoning as “couldn’t decide which one of them to go with”. You assumed he would eventually end up joining Taehyung and Luna, too.

Meanwhile, you stayed back to help the crew prepare for the show—you thought you had to, since you still felt guilty for getting drinks last night while everyone else stayed back to work.

Everyone looked overworked, yet insisted they were fine today. You sent a few of the staff members off to rest—they left the room, but you had a suspicion that they went to work elsewhere instead—and joined Seokjin in the empty venue.

The Rated Riot logo was already hoisted by the back of the stage. The lights on it still flickered when it was turned on; at certain points, it appeared as though the band’s name was “R-R-R-Rate it”. Not to mention, countless lightbulbs around the frame had shattered last night in Berlin, and made the logo look purposefully edgy—if you didn’t know why some of the bulbs weren’t working.

To solve this, the crew had strung fairy lights around the broken sign and curled some of the strings around the wall behind it, illuminating the dark backdrop of the stage. This accentuated the lettering and created a lightning bolt effect on the backdrop, even despite some of the lights not working.

You thought that, as soon as the crew fixed the flickering—they were working on it at the moment—you might actually like the logo better this way. Perhaps the roadies should be invited to the next concept meeting for the band.

However, you had to admit, you wouldn’t have stayed back if you’d known Seokjin would employ you to carry the equipment inside. You wanted to help, but not at the expense of your spine.

The venue for tonight wasn’t particularly big—none of them were, it’s why you loved Rated Riot’s gigs so much; all of them felt incredibly intimate—but the distance from the bus to the stage was a long one.

Now, Seokjin watched as you heaved the metal decorations with pitying eyes, yet did not offer his assistance – because he knew you would refuse, but also because he preferred to yell at people rather than to carry heavy things himself.

“Where am I putting this?” you huffed—not for the first time today; Seokjin insisted on supervising every piece of equipment individually instead of allowing you to drop everything wherever.

“This one can go anywhere,” he waved his hand around just as his phone started to ring in his hand. “I need to take th—hold on, not there!”

You blinked at him, already in the process of putting the metal frame down. “You said anywhere!”

“Anywhere but there!” he shouted as he picked up the call and turned his back to you, focusing on the conversation on his phone. “Yes? No! No. Really? No. Okay, yes.”

It was hard to tell if the conversation he was having was serious enough to ignore you, based on what you heard—but that was how phone conversations with him went; if you asked two questions at the same time, he’d only answer one and it was your responsibility to guess which one.

Deciding to just leave the metal frame anywhere—except where he initially said—and run out of here to help someone else before he could notice your absence, you strained to drag the decoration closer towards the stage. You attempted to lower it slowly, but your hands were nearly shaking at that point, and you ended up dropping it when it was a few inches off the ground. You barely managed to leap away from it as it landed with a clang far louder than was necessary.

Naturally, Seokjin turned around, displeased. Covering the speaker on his phone, he clicked his tongue.

“Please,” he said. “I appreciate your help, but don’t break anything. We’re already short on equipment after Berlin.”

“This weighs as much as I do,” you countered, straightening and immediately supporting your back with your hands as the bones somewhere cracked. You weren’t built for this. “And it’s metal. It’d break me before I could break it. Is this spot okay?”

“It’s fine. Could you bring out the mic stand, too, please? Thanks so much,” he said, and before you could react, he returned to his call. “I’m here. Yes. Mmhmm.”

Sighing as you attempted to stretch, you climbed up the stage steps and picked the microphone stand up from the nook by the exit to the changing area.

“Need some help?” a voice asked from the darkness behind you. You jumped so violently that you nearly tossed the stand in the direction the sound was coming from.

“Jesus,” you wheezed, clutching your chest as Jungkook came into the light from the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and, not waiting for your response, took the stand from you and carried it to the middle of the stage.

“Thanks,” you said, watching him while you recovered. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“No problem,” he replied, lifting the stand to his height before placing it where he personally saw fit.

Seokjin could hardly complain—Jungkook was going to be the one who used the microphone, after all—and yet, as soon as he ended the call and turned around, he groaned loudly.

“No! Do you have any concept of what the middle of the stage is?” he yelled, approaching Jungkook, clearly determined to do this himself.

“I just thought it’d be better if—”

“It would not be better if,” Seokjin cut him off, climbing up the steps and grabbing the stand from him to place it in the right spot. “If it’s slightly to the left, then you’ll be knocking into Yoongi every time you lean back. If it’s to the right, then the same thing with Taehyung. Don’t even get me started on the stand being too far back, so you could successfully trip and fall into Hoseok’s drum set.”

Jungkook glanced at you—you closed your eyes and nodded, confirming that this lecture was a normal process of working with Seokjin—then looked back at the stage manager.

“I’m a real safety hazard in your eyes, aren’t I?” he joked.

“You are,” Seokjin replied completely seriously. Jungkook did a double-take as he’d already begun to turn to you again—to check if his little joke made you smile; it did. “Go now! It’s bad luck for the artist to see the stage before the concert.”

You snorted at this, while Jungkook frowned, confused by the logic—he was, technically, going to see the stage during the soundcheck—but he chose not to argue as he joined you at the back of the stage while Seokjin busied himself with repositioning the speakers at the front.

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook asked you in a concerned whisper as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I think I’ve only ever seen him laughing. This is a first for me.”

“Yeah, he’s stressed,” you explained. “Lots of back-to-back shows and all of the venues seem to have something wrong with them. At least, according to his standards.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “What else can I do to help?”

You lifted your eyebrows at this, genuinely worried that he was entering a new stage of masochism. “Are you kidding? Get out of here while he’s not looking.”

“No, I can—I can help,” he said despite his confidence faltering at your words. Perhaps he really should really have been running for his life.

“No, you can’t,” you retorted, placing a hand on his shoulder as you guided him towards the hallway. “You still have to perform later tonight. I’ll help; you rest.”

Jungkook stopped walking and turned around—you didn’t react quickly enough and your hand brushed over his chest as you pulled it away, the tips of your fingers catching on the soft material of his corduroy jacket.

“Well, he’s not looking right now,” he said, peeking at Seokjin again. “Let’s both go.”

You shook your head. The moment had suddenly become so melodramatic, your next line should have been, ‘it’s too late for me, go on without me.’

Simply, you disagreed, “I can’t—”

“Just for a quick break,” he cut you off, an almost pleading tone in his voice. He took your hand—or tried to, but ended up grabbing your wrist—as he pulled you after him into the dark hallway, towards the changing room. “You deserve it.”

Despite being unable to resist—he wasn’t very rough, but he was very determined not to let you out of his grip—you still tried to protest, “you don’t know that.”

“I know you and I know you deserve that,” he shot back and opened the door into the inner hallway, waiting for you to go in and, after you paused, encouraging, “come on.”

You relented with an uncertain sigh as you walked through the door.

The two of you entered Rated Riot’s changing room—currently empty because everyone else was out in the city—and you were surprised to feel relieved to be here alone.

You’d been working ever since you reached the city over three hours ago, save for a little break when you went to grab some coffee from the deli across the street right after you arrived. You hadn’t even realised how tired and hungry you were now.

“Should we order some food, then?” you asked. “I thought you left with the rest of the guys, so I didn’t plan any meals at the venue.”

“Actually,” Jungkook said, grabbing his phone from where he’d left it on the make-up table, “why don’t we go out to eat? I saw a fast-food place across the street.”

You’d seen it too when you were getting drinks, but you weren’t sure if leaving right now was a good idea—you were here so you could help the crew, after all.

Then again, this was just lunch – you’d be back in an hour, maybe even less. The soundcheck wouldn’t begin until two hours later, so the rest of the team probably wouldn’t be back before then. And it wasn’t like you’d be abandoning the crew, either, since Seokjin had them all under strict control.

“I guess we can do that,” you said, checking the pockets of your oversized leather jacket—there were many of them, and you needed a minute. “I think I left my wallet on the bus, though. We have to stop by there.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “My treat.”

Following the trip to Paris—which was his treat, too, since he’d bought the train tickets with his personal money—you were quick to dismiss this offer.

“I can send you the money from my phone,” you decided, walking back to the door of the changing room. “We can go.”

Jungkook sighed, mumbling under his breath, “impossible to do anything nice for you.”

You turned around, not sure what you’d just heard. “Hmm?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied with a quick shake of his head and reached over to hold the door open for you.

“We’ll probably have to sneak past Jin, though. I’m not sure how that’s going to—”

“We’re going out to get food!” Jungkook called out as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the stage. You looked at him in horror. He asked, “anyone want anything?”

“I’m good,” Seokjin replied when he saw you emerge. You paused, ready to stop and explain why you were leaving, but Jungkook took your hand again, pulling you with him down the stage steps.

“Oh—we’ll see you later,” you shouted to Seokjin—who mumbled something and waved in your general direction—and then yanked your hand out of Jungkook’s grip. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“What?” he lifted his eyebrows, surprised by your abrupt hostility. “Offer people to buy them food?”

“You can’t just announce that we’re leaving,” you said as you two made your way towards the exit of the venue. “You may be able to come and go as you please, but I’m not entitled to freedom like that. I have to ask if people are going to be okay while I’m gone.”

“See, but if you ask, then you’re giving them reasons not to be okay,” Jungkook argued. “And if you just say you’re leaving, then they have no choice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Life is so very simple for you.”

“It is,” he replied with a grin as he opened the back door for you. “And, as long as you’re with me, I can make it simple for you, too.”

The fast-food place that you’d both seen turned out to be a small hamburger restaurant. When you and Jungkook entered, it was empty, save for the waiter by the cash register.

He greeted you in Danish and even after your greetings in English, he continued to ask you something in his native language. When you apologised for not understanding, his eyes doubled in size and, he, too, apologised for not realising you weren’t local.

You decided to take this as a compliment. You had felt out of place wherever you went; so very obviously foreign here. Not that anyone minded it, but there was something oddly embarrassing about being a tourist. Even if you were, technically, here for work.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant was nice and calming; mellow instrumental music played on the speakers and large windows faced the beautiful brick buildings across the empty street. Really, putting you in a good mood required almost no effort today, but this restaurant being empty still made your heart soar.

You and Jungkook took seats at a table by the window and hung your jackets on the backs of your chairs. You both took a moment to enjoy the view before you picked up the dark brown paper menus on the table.

There weren’t a lot of options, so you were quick to choose. And, because this was a very small restaurant, you assumed you’d have at least twenty good minutes of taking in the sights outside the window—especially the pair of collies that had escaped their owner and were currently chasing each other down the cobblestone street—before your food would be brought to you. But it reached you mere minutes later.

The burgers looked very appetising, although the portions were bigger than either of you expected; french fries were hanging off your plates.

Like complete tourists, you and Jungkook clinked your burgers together before taking your first bites. You looked at each other immediately once you got the first taste.

“Oh, this is so good,” you whined, your mouth full.

“Right?” Jungkook nodded in eager agreement as he took another bite, frowning deeply and shaking his head as if in disbelief—you knew him well enough to recognise this as a sign of satisfaction. “Easily top ten best burgers I’ve had in my life.”

“Definitely,” you agreed. “And to think there aren’t any people here? I’m in awe.”

“I know, right?” he said again as he continued to chew—far longer than was necessary because he refused to swallow until he gathered enough courage to comment casually enough, “I’m glad I got to try this with you.”

You looked up from your burger. The collies outside had tired and lied down on the pavement, giving their owner enough time to catch his hat in the wind and reach his dogs. You were not sure what the meaningful look in Jungkook’s eyes was supposed to imply.

“Because I know how to do the Heimlich?” you offered.

He blinked at this. He was expecting all sorts of different questions after he said that, but this wasn’t one of them.

“No,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into an involuntary smile. “But that’s a good thing to know.”

“I am also, of course, the expert on burgers,” you guessed then.

“It’s not because of your skills,” he said. “It’s just because it’s you.”

You took another bite and, as you chewed, you picked up a napkin to wipe your lips. You felt very self-conscious suddenly. And you needed a moment—for what, you didn’t know.

The dogs outside refused the leash, jumping around their owner, who cursed in, at least, three different languages; you could hear as much from inside.

“Okay, listen,” you said after a minute, “so, if there was never any ex,” you watched Jungkook cringe softly as you mentioned this, “what is wrong with you?”

The brutality of the question took him off-guard as he coughed in surprise, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What?” he asked through spasms of coughing. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve been acting weird since the tour started.”

He employed an aura of nonchalance as he countered, “how am I acting weird?”

“Well, for one, you forced me to go to Paris with you,” you reminded him.

 “I don’t recall there being any forcing.”

“There was emotional forcing.”

He shook his head with a small roll of his eyes. “Fine. But that doesn’t prove that I’m acting weird.”

“Let’s say that’s true,” you said. “Then why are you here?

Jungkook put his burger down, wiping the crumbs on his hands with a napkin.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what is that supposed to mean? Can’t I be here?”

“Everyone else is sight-seeing,” you explained before the offence in his eyes could deepen. “Taehyung and Luna went to that theme park, and Yoongi and Hoseok tagged along. You know the one I mean.”

“Tivoli,” he said.

“Right,” you nodded. “Even your three musketeers went out. Why didn’t you go anywhere?”

“I’m sure they picked up some girls on their way, so they have enough company.”

You lifted your eyebrows at this; you could recall Sid and Jude chatting up girls at the concert last night in Berlin.  “More girls? Your fans weren’t enough?”

Jungkook tsked. “Our fans have better taste.”

Your expression softened.

“Good point,” you said, returning your attention to your food. “Why didn’t you go to Tivoli then?”

“Because you weren’t going,” he replied so quickly, your eyes fluttered back to him.

Another long, heavy moment passed. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way you were tiptoeing on the edges of the topic that you were almost discussing.

“See, that’s weird,” you said as your gaze slid down his chest and then settled on the view outside of the restaurant window.

With the dogs gone, the street was completely empty and, somehow, this emptiness amplified the silence inside of the restaurant. The muzak changed according to the flow of your conversation; you could barely hear the instrumental beat anymore.

Jungkook understood your reasoning—he heard the implication in his own words—and he saw the way you began to avoid his gaze as soon as he admitted that he’d stayed back for you.

But you didn’t just look surprised, you looked almost frightened. Like he’d just told you he was thinking of proposing – either to you, or to this burger.

It shocked him because, while he expected resistance, he wasn’t expecting fear.

His question was genuine after he cleared his throat, “why is that weird?”

“Why would you not go if I’m not going?” you asked, repeating his previous statement with an incredulous scoff—like the very thought of him feeling this way was outrageous and you were astonished he didn’t see that.

Slowly, he shrugged one of his shoulders, afraid to move too much—as if you were a stray deer that had wandered a bit too close to the residential neighbourhood and he was a kid who’d just discovered you; one move that was too quick, and you’d run away in a blind panic.

“Because,” he said as an explanation.

You dared to look at him, encouraged—and angered—by the abrupt end of his sentence. “Because why?”

“I’d rather be here,” he said then.

He did not know how to navigate his way out of this one.

After everything that happened between the two of you in the past few days, you had, clearly, received some sort of signals that he’d been sending you—both consciously, and subconsciously. They weren’t exactly subtle, after all. And yet you were determined to draw your blinds shut and ignore every single one of them.

“Why?” you asked again, your patience wearing thin as you distracted yourself with the french fries.

“God,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. Since he couldn’t just blurt out the truth about his feelings for you—but you looked like he’d just had, and he was horrified all over again—he had to use his favourite tactic of diverting your attention. “Do you need reasons for everything?”

“Not everything, but at least something,” you said. “You’re answering all of my questions with other questions.”

“Why do you even have questions?” he shot back. “Do you not enjoy my company?”

“You’re doing it again!” you accused, your hands rising on their own accord. “Seriously. What’s up? Are you nervous about the tour or something? I thought I made it clear that you could talk to me.”

Oh—this made him pause.

You thought he was doing this—again, what was he doing? Because it stopped seeming like flirting a long time ago—due to anxiety. You thought he was being evasive, and, therefore, weird around you.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could make this work in his favour and avoid lying at the same time.

“I just want to spend time with you,” he ended up saying, which was true. And because you kept your eyes on him after he said this, he felt confident enough to add, “we used to be close. I-I’d like that again.”

At that point, he thought he’d understand if you would get up and leave. He wasn’t sure if he would have followed; he didn’t think he had that right, not after he didn’t follow you the first time you left him. But you looked down to your plate and picked up another french fry, toying with it between your fingers.

He hadn’t proposed anything particularly awful—although he avoided saying ‘friends’ with such intensity that it only magnified the deeper implication of the word—yet he felt like a death row prisoner waiting to hear the date of his execution.

“Why now?” you asked, finally putting the fry in your mouth and biting into it.

The wait for your response had been excruciating. He needed to make you see that this was not a big deal.

“Why not?” he replied, his voice a tad too casual, showing just how hard he was trying to appear calm, to conceal the overtime his heart was working in his chest. “We’re on tour, so we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

That sounded good in his head. But you looked at him in such a way that he thought he was about to hear that, despite overwhelming evidence in his favour, he was still going to be hanged in the town square.

“And after the tour ends?” you asked, setting the gallows up for him.

He thought about this for a moment and attempted to return to his usual nonchalance despite feeling sweaty all over.

“That’s not until two months later,” he said and realised, immediately, that this was the wrong answer.

He didn’t have enough time to correct himself before you scoffed again and asked, “so, why bother with a friendship if it won’t matter in two months?”

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” he retorted quickly. “Why would it not matter?”

You were the one who shrugged this time—the answer was obvious. “Did it matter before we came here?”

“It did,” he replied with complete certainty.

You looked away, but he saw the skepticism on your face and the way you hyper-focused on the street outside so as not to roll your eyes. “Oh, okay.”

“It did matter.”

Frowning at the offence in his voice, you returned your gaze to his face, trying to find the answers to the questions in your head. Especially this one: how could your relationship have mattered to him before the tour started?

“I don’t know what kind of a friendship you have with Sid and The Losers,” you said, “but in my experience, being friends with someone implies making an effort for them.”

“I was making an effort,” he continued to insist.

“Making an effort to get us both in trouble with the label.”

He knew that this was how you saw it—you were very clear about that each time he and his friends somehow managed to find themselves in an emergency—but he still didn’t think you were being fair.

“I always let you know where I am at the start of the night,” he defended.

“And I appreciate that—”

“Not just to inform you,” he continued. “It was always an open invitation.”

You brought your tongue over your lips as your eyes returned to your plate. You grabbed another fry, focusing on the salt on your tongue for a second.

The bell by the door rang, signalling the entrance of a new customer.

Nor you, nor Jungkook turned to look, feeling like your table by the window of the restaurant existed on a different plane of reality—a vacuum of sorts where only the two of you lived.

You could remember one instance when you had gotten the feeling—after one of Jungkook’s late-night texts with his location—that he’d sent it to you because he was subtly asking you to join him. You thought you had misunderstood.

You didn’t know how to feel now that you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m not asking to provoke you or to start an argument,” you spoke up, “but do you think that’s appropriate?”

That wasn’t a very good question, knowing that Jungkook was very liberal when it came to seeing things as appropriate—and he shrugged as soon as you asked this.

“Spending time outside of work?” he clarified. You nodded. He shrugged once more. “You hang out with Luna and Taehyung all the time. And Maggie. Why would it be different for us?”

It was a hilariously stupid question and you both knew it.

Keeping your eyes on his, you deadpanned, “right. Why would it?”

He fought back with just as much irony as he said, heated, “yeah. Exactly.”

Your gazes remained locked until your phone buzzed a few seconds later, the sound dull as it reverberated against the material of your jacket.

You twisted in your seat to get the device out of the pocket. While you did, Jungkook took another bite of his burger.

It was a text message from Jimin, who was typing in all caps to let you know that he and Namjoon had just arrived at the venue, and Seokjin—or, in Jimin’s panicked words, ‘SOEKEJIIN’—was in a frenzy so intense, he was either about to faint or force everyone around him to faint.

“It looks like I have to get back to work,” you said, sliding your phone back into the pocket of your jacket as you picked it up from the back of your chair. You missed the disappointment that descended on Jungkook’s face. With a sigh, you added, “I appreciate you trying to be friends with me, but—just—don’t do that because you feel like you have to, since we’re on tour. Or whatever other temporary reason you might—”

“It’s not because of temporary reasons,” he said as you stood up. He turned away when you looked at him, though, not wanting you to see his eyes in case Sid’s game was evident in them. He didn’t lie when he reiterated, “I mean that.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing not to argue even though your next words barely sounded like a compromise, “well, let’s wait and see. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I have to go, but finish your lunch and then I’ll see you after the—”

“I won’t change my mind.”

You paused again. “Okay. Well. You’ll understand why I’m going to need actions to support your words.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he said. “We were having lunch together. Isn’t that a start?”

Clutching your jacket to yourself as you lingered by the table, you conceded hesitantly, “it’s a start…”

Encouraged by this, he threw his hands in the air before speaking.

“But you’re leaving me all by myself, so it does feel like I’m not getting the same treatment back,” he said, and it took you a second to catch the teasing glimmer in his eye. You’d almost forgotten how quick he was on his feet—which wasn’t always a good thing, because he used this to avoid uncomfortable topics. He questioned, “do you not want to be friends with me?”

You brought your teeth over your lower lip as you looked away. He knew you. He knew the intentional childishness would end up amusing you eventually—and he couldn’t help but feel proud when he saw your shoulders relax as you fought back a smile.

“I’d love to be friends with you,” you said. “And, as your friend, I have to make sure your band has a great performance tonight, so finish your food while I do my job. I’ll see you later.”

“Text me!” he shouted as you put your jacket on, already taking a step towards the door of the restaurant.

You turned back to look at him. “Text you? About what?”

“Anything. It’s what friends do.”

Laughing now, you pulled your phone out of your pocket just as it began to vibrate again.

“Eat,” you told him, “we’ll figure out how to be friends later.”

He nodded in response, even though he didn’t feel hungry anymore. He watched you walk out of the restaurant and run across the street, back to the venue. With a deep exhale, he picked up a fry that had fallen out of the pile on his plate and tossed it into his mouth.

He hadn’t fully grasped how serious you were when you said you didn’t believe in second chances. Perhaps he should have. In all the years that he’d known you, he’d never seen you restore a friendship with someone you’d stopped talking to.

You were the sort of person who stayed until the very last drop of your patience—and then some more. You weren’t someone who left easily, you endured. You had the highest tolerance threshold out of everyone he’d ever met. So, really, it was understandable why you didn’t believe in trying again.

Still, he was arrogant enough to consider himself different. To consider the two of you different.

Really, he had thought things were going well.

Until this moment here, that is. He hadn’t even done or said much today, but you were quick to determine that he had reached the line. And you were not going to let him cross it.

He’d assumed the line had gotten a bit further away. He thought he was allowed to say more to you, to be more personal about your relationship after your trip to Paris—the trip was fine, after all! You’d both had fun. But, now he was starting to think that, perhaps, the reason why the Paris trip went well was because, initially, you went on it thinking he had an ex that he wanted to get back together with.

You had thought you were, on some level, still doing your job—whether as his manager, or someone who’s known him for almost ten years now. Just having his back. Keeping him out of trouble.

You’d always been doing that, for as long as he could remember. You never even considered—he never made you consider—that there was more to it.

He knew now that he had thought about this all wrong. You assumed that he was joking around, participating in Sid’s pranks, not taking anything—not even you—seriously. And you were right, of course, but only in part.

Step One would be proving to you that he was serious.

Maybe you never believed in second chances because you were never shown that people deserved them. And he was determined to show you that he deserved it. To convince you that the two of you could be close again—so long as he could look past the bet and convince himself first.

After Rated Riot’s performance that night—which went by smoothly, of course, even though Yoongi tripped over a loose cable and forced Seokjin to spend the entirety of the encore cursing quietly under his breath—the members followed the tradition of going out to meet the fans. Meanwhile, you insisted on supervising the deconstruction of the stage, wanting—rather desperately—to avoid incidents similar to Berlin.

To be fair, calling it supervision was generous; all you did was repeatedly remind everyone to “take it slow” while taping boxes and holding doors. The roadies seemed to appreciate your input this time, although you couldn’t shake the feeling that these middle-aged men still only saw you as an eager six-year-old, who passionately wanted to be helpful.

You decided you were going to take it. At least, you were here and could witness all that was happening.

Eventually, you noticed that Seokjin had disappeared. You weren’t very concerned; he had so many things to look after that you figured there simply had to be something else that required his attention.

But here’s the thing about Seokjin – he was demanding, but he was also very caring. A manifestation of this was the plastic bowl, filled to the brim with lollipops, that he brought backstage when he returned fifteen minutes later.

“Here,” he announced. “I think we can all use this. Make sure all of you take some—but no more than five, so everyone has enough.”

You chuckled, assuming that this was more for a boost of morale than anything else, but you were soon surprised. It was almost funny, truly, how quickly every adult in the room leapt to the lollipop bowl.

Seokjin, in the meantime, made his way towards you. Three bright green, apple-flavoured lollipops were in his hand, and he pointed them at you.

“Hey,” he said. “This is for making you haul heavy things around the venue earlier.”

“That’s my job,” you replied, but took the suckers from him nonetheless. Apple was your favourite flavour.

“It’s not, though,” he disagreed. “You were here because you felt bad. You shouldn’t feel bad. What happened before was not your fault.”

Your smile was grateful and you reminded him, “it’s not yours, either.”

“I know that.” He exhaled somewhat sadly before continuing, “but that’s not as easy for me to say. The battens fell in Berlin, because the scissor lift got stuck on some middle setting, and the staff couldn’t reach properly. They had to unscrew the construction with their hands raised above their heads. I told them not to, but they insisted we were short on time. And I let them do it.”

You sighed, too. “If the schedule wasn’t so intense—”

“They would have probably still done it this way,” Seokjin finished. “They didn’t think anything would go wrong. That was just an excuse to get it over with faster.”

You’d heard a similar explanation yesterday when you were first called up after the incident – “we wanted to do this as fast as possible.”

Trying to brighten the mood, you said, “at least no one got hurt. And I’m sure it’s a lesson learned in any case.”

“It is. Because now you’re here, watching everything like a hawk,” he noted.

This surprised you—and Seokjin grinned at your raised eyebrows.

“It’s not like I can fire them if more things break,” you said.

“That’s the worst part,” he countered. He still had an entertained expression on his face, but something inside of him had softened. It was endearing how unaware you were of how much the staff here cared about you. He said, “they saw how distressed you were last night.”

You were still confused about the magnitude of your role here—the backstage crew didn’t respond directly to you. To be fair, even certain members of Rated Riot didn’t, even though they should have.

“Everyone who was here was distressed,” you said.

“True,” Seokjin nodded, “but they should have been; this was their job, and something went wrong. Meanwhile, your stress is just, sort of, collateral damage. They felt bad for upsetting you.”

You looked back at the staff behind you. Seeing these men—some large and scruffy, others tall and lanky, all of them intimidating in certain lighting—dismantle the stage construction while sucking on lollipops brought a smile to your face.

“I’m a little kid in their eyes,” you said then, “aren’t I?”

Seokjin had to be honest: despite his attempts to always be respectful, he, too, sometimes thought you were too young for the responsibilities of your job. You never proved him right, however, breezing through said responsibilities with an ease that he wouldn’t have expected from someone your age—he admired that.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted.

You snorted, but there were shadows of disappointment on your features that he was quick to notice. Sometimes you wondered if Seokjin had chosen stage management as an alternative to psychology.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said, “most of the people here treated me like a kid when we first met, too. And I’m older than some of the roadies. I guess I look very young.”

“What’d you do to make them respect you?” you asked.

“I started yelling.”

This got you to laugh. “Should I consider it?”

“I think that, sometimes, you should,” he replied. “They say that people shout when they don’t know enough words to whisper—or something like that—but I think differently. I think they shout because they care and they need others to care.”

“Hmm,” you turned your gaze away as various disagreements and full-blown arguments that you’d had in your life—most of them with the same person—flashed through your mind. “That… makes sense, I think.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Seokjin said, “yelling is fun. People pay attention to you. Sometimes they even fear you. I love it.”

You laughed again, even though you’d seen it yourself – new staff members tended to avoid Seokjin. Even you didn’t want to get in his way when he was setting the stage up.

But all of that was so he would get things done. And, once he did, he was easily the most entertaining person to be around—which meant a lot, considering you were literally on tour with rock artists right now.

“Maybe you should get on stage with Rated Riot one of these nights,” you teased, “that might satisfy your itch to be listened to.”

“You know what? I just might,” he played along, a grin spreading on his lips. Nodding at the candy in your hand, he said, “try the lollipops. We’re almost done here anyway.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Really. We wouldn’t be on tour if it weren’t for you.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’,” he responded brightly. Then, he leaned closer to add in a teasing whisper, “but there is in ‘ass-kissing’.”

Your eyes widened as he snickered, pulling back and walking past you to help the crew carry the boxes outside. He looked at you over his shoulder, his expression cheerful.

“I meant what I said, you know!” you shouted after him.

“I know,” he called back. “I meant it, too. Go rest! This isn’t your responsibility.”

He picked up a box, propped it on his hip, and walked away before you could argue and offer your assistance anyway.

Figuring you might as well go and actually stop working for the day, you unwrapped one of the lollipops and made your way outside. The band was probably still having post-show drinks backstage, so you figured you could get a few minutes of quiet on the bus before everyone else returned.

Just as you exited the venue, however, you saw a white puff of smoke coming from somewhere on the side of the building. Popping the lollipop in your mouth, you stopped and waited for just a second, until the person bent down to shake the ash off the cigarette, and you recognized Jungkook’s profile.

Your legs brought you over to him before your mind could reconsider.

Rounding the corner, you asked, “should you be doing this?”

He flinched, not having expected you here, and it got you to smile. The two of you had a special way of sneaking up on each other today.

“Probably not,” he said, blowing smoke out. “Bad for my lungs, right?"

“So I hear.”

This was the first time the two of you were alone together, following the interrupted lunch earlier. Jungkook had wondered what it would be like now that he’d made his intentions clear—as clear as he could under the circumstances, at least. Now that he’d brought up the possibility of a friendship.

He had worried it would be weird or awkward. That he wouldn’t know how to prove himself to you, wouldn’t know what to say, or worse, that he would, but you would respond in the same cold, detached way as you had the first time in the restaurant.

But now that you were here, he didn’t feel different. He didn’t feel like he’d dropped a ground-breaking revelation—he knew he hadn’t, but your reaction begged otherwise—and he didn’t feel awkward.

He felt, he realised, like he’d been waiting for you to find him here. Like he knew you’d come, taking him off guard, appearing next to him from the shadows of the late night.

Taking another drag, he extended the cigarette towards you. Smoke passed his lips as he spoke, “want some?”

Hesitating for a moment, you gave your lollipop one last twirl against your tongue before you pulled it out of your mouth.

As you took the cigarette from him and placed it between your lips, you pointed the sucker at him and echoed, half-jokingly, “want some?”

He chuckled at this, but took the lollipop from you. Your question was a challenge—you asked because you didn’t think he’d agree—and he took you up on it immediately, putting the candy in his mouth.

You watched him toy with it, biting into the plastic stick lightly, and something seemed to short wire inside of you, shooting dangerous sparks in every which way. You wondered, for a passing moment, if your conversation at lunch could have triggered something long-forgotten inside of you, like the trip to Paris had.

When Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, the smoke you were supposed to exhale got caught in your throat.

Sighing deeply, he spoke, “haven’t done that in a while.”

Tilting your head to blow smoke out in a clumsy cough, you asked, “s-sucked on a lollipop? Or smoked?”

Twisting the sucker around his mouth for more flavour—aware, with every taste receptor on his tongue, that this was your taste—he replied, “shared a cigarette. Or candy.”

“Me neither.”

You took another drag and gave the cigarette back to him. He took it from you, his movements slow, and, in turn, he pulled out the lollipop, extending it back to you.

You were the one who snickered this time as you retrieved it, and, without any reluctance, put it back in your mouth. He forgot what breathing was and how it worked right after.

He wondered, his gaze frozen on your face, what the cigarettes and apple-flavoured lollipops tasted like on your lips. He wanted to find out, wanted to replace the candy in your mouth with his own tongue, wanted to—

He was forced to look away as the lit cigarette stung the tips of his fingers, ashes falling on his boots.

He shook it off and forced his eyes to stay on the ground beneath his feet.

“So,” you spoke, tapping the edge of the lollipop stick. “You ready to go back? The crew just finished up. If you hurry, you might still grab a few drinks backstage before it’s all gone.”

“I’d, uh…” his eyes were cast low. As soon as he put the cigarette back against his lips, he thought he’d begun to hallucinate—because, realistically, he shouldn’t have recognised the taste of your lip gloss, mixed with a faint taste of apples on the filter. Coughing, he stuttered, “I-I’d rather, um, stay here, actually.”

Suddenly awkward, you realised he may have been looking for a quiet minute by himself just as you had been, before you saw him. “Oh. I’m sorry I interrupted. I can—”

“No,” he stopped you. “I meant with you.”

You watched him exhale smoke and wondered, unexpectedly, what it meant for you if you craved a cigarette more than a lollipop. You never thought you had a nicotine addiction; really, you barely smoked.

Perhaps this was something different. A sort of latent chronic disease that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried—and you spent four years trying.

“Really?” you asked now, your chest light and your eyes glistening—in a dangerous, promising way. “Hiding behind a corner, sharing a cigarette like pre-teen delinquents?”

His eyes met yours as he took another drag. “Just the way I like it.”

“Alright,” you said, leaning your side against the wall next to him. You twirled the lollipop around in your mouth and he could almost feel the remaining ounces of restraint leave his body. “Let’s stay here, then.”

You were playing around, but there was a seriousness behind your words. You didn’t question him. You just stayed.

And he had to look away from you again.

He didn’t really understand why; this was so childish. He played along with your delinquent joke, but he wasn’t actually twelve—even if being with you did make him feel like a sixth-grader, discovering what having a crush was like for the first time.

“Tell you what,” he said, turning to his side to look at you. He lifted the cigarette; there was barely any of it left. “You can finish this off in exchange for the lollipop.”

You grinned. “Yeah? You liked the apple taste?”

You knew, he suspected. You had to know what you were doing to him; there was no way you wouldn’t notice how pathetically affected he was. All of Copenhagen could probably hear a faint thundering that came from inside of his chest.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Something like that.”

“Okay.” You pulled the lollipop out of your mouth—and did it slowly, only strengthening his suspicion that you were doing this to him on purpose. Still, he felt his heart leap right to his throat and drop down to his feet when your lips pursed. “Although it’s hardly fair, since mine will last longer for you.”

You took his cigarette with your free hand and passed him the lollipop. The very tips of your fingers touched as you exchanged possessions, and, for a moment—which was so laced with electricity that the streetlamps around you seemed to flicker—Jungkook was worried that he wouldn’t manage to control himself, after all. That he would use this gentle, barely-there touch to hold you tighter. To throw the lollipop away, to kiss you, to never let go of you again.

Instead, he took half a step backwards—afraid of his impulses—and popped the candy into his mouth as quickly as he could. As if this way, he’d be less affected by your lingering taste on his tongue.

“Good,” he said. “It’s bad for your lungs, anyway.”

You snorted as you took one final drag before you reached dangerously close to the filter. Blowing smoke out, you leaned down to put the cigarette out against the pavement and walked away from him to throw the remains into the trashcan by the exit.

He opened his eyes to watch you return. You were smiling – not at him, but not away from him, either – and he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen—not tonight, not tomorrow, not in two weeks when the bet was supposed to end.

He had suggested a friendship today. He’d promised to himself to prove to you that he was worth it, that the two of you could be close again. That you could be friends.

But he had a pack full of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans; both of you could have had one of your own. Yet, he didn’t offer.

And you had two brand new lollipops from Seokjin in the pocket of your jacket. You could have given him one—but you didn’t offer, either.

Both of you chose not to mention this, aware—very vividly—that normal friends probably shouldn’t have enjoyed sharing candy and cigarettes so much.

So, Jungkook didn’t know anything at all. But with you here—as your gaze fell to his lips, he thought the flavour of the lollipop sharpened somehow, bringing shivers down his spine—he was thrilled to find out.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “sleepwalking”

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[willowser]

bakugou hesitates beneath the dim light of the station lamp.

you notice it at the last moment, half-turned from him already. red riot is waiting at the end of the sidewalk, far back behind him, a fuzzy, red little blip in the distance; before, he at least tried to act like he was interested in something on his phone, though now that he is safely out of reach of his partner's searing glare, his attention is all yours.

it feels like permission, for something. whatever it is has your heart growing in your chest, beating almost painfully.

in one quick flash of movement, bakugou pushes a rough hand up his face, dragging his mask along with his fingers until it's free. there, it dangles a bit limply as he stares down at it, picking at a loose string. he's fussed his hair up a little, but you don't think he knows and it's too cute to call attention to.

by now, he should be half-way back to kirishima, back to patrol. back to the city.

"think y'can manage not to die if i catch up with shitty hair?"

you had hummed coyly, silly and light beneath his severe stare. the darkness of his mask bleeds into his eyes, making them seem deeper, sharper; it's hard not to squirm at the other end of it.

"we'll see, i guess," you grinned. "listen for me to scream real loud, okay?"

bakugou had huffed, material of his gloves scratching against itself as his fists balled. "don't say shit like that."

now he's pulling them off, his gloves. staring down at his own hands, skin a bit pale in the winter evening. you watch him flex his fingers, warming the life back into them, before he's glancing up at you from beneath his long lashes.

"got this," he murmurs, without explanation, "shit on my face."

and — he does; eyes still shadows, outlined in his tacky, grease paint. a ghost of his breath floats by every time he huffs, but there's a sheen to the paint, high on the points of his cheeks, where it's smeared, like he's sweating in this kind of weather.

again, you see the ant in distance move, and you think he may be closer.

finally, you ask, "what are you doing?" because — he should be gone by now.

the rare moments you earn with him are often stolen away by dynamight; this should be no different. instead, he is here, having quietly accompanied you to the train too late at night, borrowing time neither of you can afford to pay back.

not that you would. not when he's shuffling in his heavy boots, gloves crumpled in one tight, icy fist. bakugou raises to his full height — a sudden reminder, of his greatness; his slouch is terrible — and you feel the night closing in on you both. shrouding you in something unfamiliar.

he doesn't say anything, just fixes you with a determined stare that makes you feel seen; maybe too seen. before your heart can land another beat, he's there, too close in front of you, melting what ice has gathered over your own fingers.

you gasp quietly, visible in the winter. there's something a bit frightening about him like this, dressed in his warring gear, painted like a warrior, but heat floods your face and builds on the back of your neck, excited by the hazard of him.

he's so beautiful, unappreciated. you look into the soft plain of his face and melt a little further, lean in as if to press your cheek to his.

bakugou lets out another huff; a mirror of your own breath. he murmurs, "fuck it," before closing the space between you, finally.

his lips are a little dry, but so are yours, by the chill, and the first kiss is quick and firm and chaste. he doesn't move away from you when it's over, though, just crowds you with a furrowed brow, nudging it gently against yours in an affectionate little headbutt.

it makes you laugh and that pulls him in again, rough fingers sliding along the curve of your jaw, keeping you together as his lips part with your own, deep and slow, savored. you've day-dreamed this moment with him one-thousand times since entering into his weird, intimate little space, but he's easier to fall into than you could have ever imagined.

bakugou breathes against you, open and panting, and you know he needs to go — but he doesn't fight when you rest a hand on his chest; his fingers tangle in your hair and his lips become kiss-bitten, red and wet as he parts to you for the last time tonight, tongue brushing your own before he's pulling away with a rushed, "fuck,"

you blink up at him, smile growing as red riot hoots and hollers down the street. bakugou's face is as red as his partner's costume, not dimmed in the slightest as he breathes in the night air, turns his face up to the chill.

"i—" he hesitates again before taking a step away, yanking his mask back on. "call me when—y'get home."

you laugh, and the sound stops him for another split second, though his eyes are bright and alive as he gazes at you, this time. "okay," you agree, cheeks aching from your smile. "okay, i will, i promise."

it releases him; he doesn't waste another moment before turning on his heel, tugging his gloves on as he saunters back down the sidewalk — to a jumping kirishima. bakugou shoves him once, voice low and angry and unmistakable, even from the distance.

you both savor the moment one last time, with one more look, before it slips away.

[yantalia545]

May I request the axis three + America with a darling who finds out they’re pregnant and tries to escape while the axis are away. Their partner finds out after this darling fled (or perhaps they suspected)

Japan:

The day he found his place empty after a long day of work was the worst day of his life. His love had run away from him. Somehow, you had managed to chip away at the locks of his front door and escape. Though there was some light of hope that resonated that day.

He had found your positive pregnancy test.

Maybe you were just scared? You were worried about what he'd think about you becoming pregnant with his child and ran off? You're such a worry, little plum blossom. Of course he's nervous. Who wouldn't be after finding out that they're going to be a father, but this is your child. A child that the two of you made together. Japan couldn't be any happier when he found out that he was going to be the father of your child. He's so excited to start a new chapter of life with you.

There's just one problem though, Japan has to find you first.

As your husband and father of your child, he sees fit that he has to be the only one to track you down. After all, how can one prove to be a good father if he has someone else do his dirty work? It's dishonoring and lazy.

Japan will have fun with this. He tracked you down months ago but is playing a little game to punish you. He'll play mind games until the time is right. For starters, he'll leave your door wide open with a gift sitting in the middle of the kitchen table for your baby. Then things will start to go missing and your place of work will go up in flames. You know this is his doing but without proof, you can't do a thing.

As he plays with you, he's also preparing for you and the baby.

He loves watching you grow more paranoid as the months roll by. Watching your belly swell with his child had been bliss too. He just can't seem to contain his excitement over your growing body. Japan will take lots of photos when you least suspect it to satisfy his growing hunger for you.

When the time is right, most likely just before you are about to have your baby, he'll swoop in a whisk you away. What kind of father would he be if wasn't present for the birthing of his child?

Germany:

Germany will most certainly use your pregnancy to its full advantage.

Being the father of your baby, he has equal rights and deserves access to his child. Using his position in power and a few bribes to the judges, he'll use this opprotuity to bind you closer to him with the deverlopment of his child. You legally won't be able to just up and run away from him without facing legal reprocusions, and with you being a govermental figure from your country, this is a big deal. You could potentially start a war with Germnay if you ever decide to run away.

You wouldn't give up that easily though. If you couldn't run, you'll use his own people against him and show the whole world of Germany's wrongdoings.

You'll tell your story of how he had abducted you for forced you to bare his child against your will. When word gets out about your story and what his court had taken part of, the whole country will be turned upside down. Fighting if the story is true and the corruption taken place by the system for keeping you here.

It'll be troublesome For Germany. He just wanted to settle down with you, but now he has to deal with rioting civilians shouting outside his door. He won't stand for this. The people spread the word of your situation will be hunted down and incarcerated. The police and agents would be involved in shutting down this uproar. Germany has them tirelessly working around the clock just to put an end to this all. He needs this taken care of before his child arrives.

As for you, You'll be on tighter reigns. If you can't be trusted with anyone, you won't be allowed to interact with anyone but him. Germany won't allow for such behaviors to continue when the baby comes. He'll have you trained. Harsh training to ensure that something like this will never happen again. You'll be a well-behaved mother and wife for him rather you like it or not. You're his!

Italy:

It had been over a year since he had last seen you. Italy had searched everywhere for you. He even got Germany involved and he still couldn't find you. His heart splintered as more time carried on with no sign of you.

It wasn't until one fateful day when Italy unexpectedly found you. He could recognize your radiant beauty from anywhere no matter how much time had passed. What pulled it all together was the little Bambina wrapped up in your arms. At that moment, Italy knew that your baby was also his. How can anyone mistake the inherited curl of his? That was definitely his baby.

Without much thought, Italy would race up to you as if it were any other normal day. He watched the color drain from your face as he gushed over you and his little bambina.

"Is this our baby?!" Italy would ask as he ripped your baby right out of your arms. Admiring his baby. The way he said 'our' baby sent a shiver down your spine. You had wished you would never see Italy again. He locked you in his apartment and made love to you; Claiming he loved you.

He was sick and in nowhere stable enough to be anywhere near your baby.

You were terrified. You swiftly tried to take your baby back, but Italy was in no hurry to give her back. Much to your dismay.

"Aww, She's so cute~! She definitely has her mother's looks" Italy gushed while you could only stare in horror. When he called your name, your heart sank. You knew you were done for.

"(Y/N), why did you leave me? You know that's not good for the baby." His voice wasn't his usual cheery tone. It was much darker. Anger boiled under his tongue as each word struck your heart like a hot metal rod.

You couldn't answer him. You could only manage to shakely reach for your baby before he pulled her away from you; Walking away with your child as he did so.

Your heart raced as you blindly followed after him. Worried for your poor baby's life in the hands of your captor and baby's father.

"Don't worry (Y/N). We have plenty of time to catch up. I think some family time is in order. After all, our family is finally back together again!" Italy cheered.

America:

The day you found out you were pregnant was the most terrifying day of your life. America had finally done it and now you're the one that has to pay the price. While you were in complete shock and denial, America was on cloud 9. He had always wanted a child and to live out the American Dream. He made it after all! He's had a rough childhood and had wanted nothing more than a stable family of his own ever since he was a young boy.

You would never give him that satisfaction. You would never allow your child to grow up under the guidance of a monster. What if they turned out to be just as terrible as him and steal girls they love? The thought horrified you to your wits end. You just had to get out of here before it was too late.

You had everything sorted out while America was away for work. You'd run through an underground foreign route the get across the border where you'd find the help to go back home. You just had to get from America's penthouse in New York City to Texas.

Your skills in speed driving got you far, but America's cops are shifty. Stopping at nothing to be in favor of a powerful man such as America, and so, every trooper was on the lookout for any sign of you.

You've managed to outrun most state troopers. You were just too quick and had the turning skills of a mad hound for them to keep up with you for long. It wasn't until America joined a drag race with your did your luck take a turn for the worse.

Being a drag racer himself, the best in the U.S, that is, you were no match for him. He managed to corner you in an ally way and it was all over; You've lost. America couldn't have been happier to finally have found you again. As your husband and father of your child, he'll take good care of the two of you. A love crazed look in his eyes as he pulled you out of your car and back into his arms where you belonged.

"That was fun (Y/N), but you really need to start thinking about our baby. That was really dangerous and could have gotten our child seriously hurt. Let's head back home where we can be a family."

Your head dropped and tears began to trickle down your face at his heart wrenching words. You're never getting away from him now. You've spent your only chance.