#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…

[woso-dreamzzz]

New Girlfriend III

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: You make a game

When Lucy cracks open your door, you're as you always are.

You're hunched over your computer, clicking around some game level aimlessly with your tongue sticking out in concentration.

Your mice, like they always are when you're in the room, are running riot in their pen.

Outside of their cage and on the floor, you've set up a little pen for them to roam around and play in.

Lara and Zelda are wrestling like always as Clementine tries to work through the enrichment puzzle full of food. Ezio is asleep, flopped over on your shoulder as you study whatever new game you've found.

"You ready for dinner?"

Now that it's gotten colder, you've managed to get even moodier than before and even more of a shut in.

"One sec," You say. You click around the game level a bit more before pulling up a separate tab to type a long string of something Lucy can't even hope to understand. "Alright, I'm done. What's up?"

Lucy rolls her eyes fondly. "Dinner. Now. Ona cooked."

You push your chair out from your desk and stretch, your back cracking from the long hours you've spent hunched over.

You put the mice back into the cage, each of them getting a quick snuggle and kiss before you bolt it shut.

"Is it good food?" You ask as you go down the stairs.

"It's better than your mum makes!" Ona calls out and you grin.

"Yeah, but anything's better than Mum's cooking!"

Lucy grumbles, shaking her head. "One nice meal is all I ask. One meal where I don't get horrifically bullied!"

"We don't bully you," You say," It's character building!"

You and Ona laugh and Lucy just rolls her eyes. Sometimes, you think she would prefer if it went back to what it was like when you were first adapting to Ona.

"Oh," She says," I sent you those audio files you wanted."

"Thanks."

Lucy frowns. "She's been making you do those too?"

"Yeah, it's for a school project, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. It's for programming."

"I know I shouldn't have let you sign up for that," She says," It's all you ever do. I think you're losing sleep over it."

"You'll like it," You declare," What I'm working on. I promise."

"I'm sure that I will but it doesn't mean I think you're sleeping well. Put it down for once, that's all I'm saying."

You roll your eyes.

Lucy's always like that about your programming. Sometimes she lays asleep at gone three in the morning and can still hear you typing away on your computer for hours on end.

You return to your room after dinner ends and briefly come out to show Ona what you're working on while also denying Lucy the same opportunity.

"You've love it," Ona assures her at training the next day.

"Love what?" Keira asks," Oh, y/n's game? Yeah, you'll love it, Luce."

"Am I the only one that hasn't seen it?!" She demands, glancing around the room at people who are trying to not make eye contact with her. "Seriously? Raise your hand if you've seen it?"

Slowly, everyone raises their hand.

"This is so unfair!"

When you first got given the project, Lucy had been the first person to be clued into your plans. You showed her all your design sketches and all your ideas as you jumped between them.

At one point, one of your bedroom walls had been covered in concept designs and you would stand in front of it and point out certain aspects you liked and things you didn't think were quite perfect yet.

Lucu had been integral to your thought process and then all of a sudden she was shut out. You'd ask her to record voice lines or demonstrate doing something but you'd never explain why or what it was for.

You all but unplugged your computer when she came in unexpectedly and tried to get a sneak peak.

"Alright," Lucy says when she gets home to see you and Ona giggling on the sofa together," I've had enough. Show me your project."

You sit upright immediately, eyes wide.

"No-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. I've had enough of the secrets."

She's serious. You can tell by the clench in her jaw and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

Lucy's stubborn but you inherited from her so you're stubborn too.

Your cross your arms in the same way as you stand. "No! It's not finished! You can see it when you're finished!"

"Hey," Ona intervenes before the argument can truly get heated. Her hand rests on your shoulder. "It's okay. Just show her."

"I can't! It's not ready!"

"Come on," Ona says," Show her."

You glance at your Mum, who is staring at you with that same stern look and crossed arms as the one that she came in with.

"Fine. Give me a sec."

Lucy sits on the sofa as Ona hooks up a laptop to the tv.

You come back in with a disc and nervously put it into the dvd slot.

Lucy doesn't know what to say when the opening credits appear.

'Lucy Bronze: The Game' with a little pixel version of her holding the Champion's League trophy up on her head.

"We were meant to make a game about a hero," You say," And you're my hero."

[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.”

[aquared46]

Happy ao3 downtime. Have a little andreil fic. As a treat.

It was only because Neil recognized the cadence of the footsteps downstairs that his pounding heart calmed. He untangled his legs from the blankets, but didn’t rise from the bed. He listened as Andrew locked the front door, the pounding in his head and the sickness swirling in his stomach indicating he only managed about an hour of sleep. Vague images clung to the backs of Neil’s eyelids, a nightmare that slipped from his waking mind. Something Andrew had saved him from before he was even in the room.

Andrew wasn’t supposed to be back in South Carolina for another two weeks, obligated to spend time training with his team between games. Neil himself should’ve been on campus, ready for practice in the morning. Instead, Coach took one look at him yesterday afternoon and sent him away with orders to get some sleep. To give his vice captain a chance to practice for the real thing once Neil graduated in a few short months.

Neil couldn’t get any sleep at the dorms, but his and Andrew’s bed in Columbia called to him. Neil made the trip and collapsed into it, his mind wandering to the countless firsts they shared there rather than the onslaught of memories March brought.

Neil had survived three Marches since the riot, since his father’s people had delivered him to the basement in Baltimore. His fourth March should’ve been no different.

Except there was one thing Neil hadn’t accounted for: Andrew wasn’t there.

Neil was in his final year, Andrew was playing on a professional team states away, and Neil had never realized exactly how much he leaned on him in times like this. How the shared cigarettes steadied his hands, how Andrew’s palm on the back of his neck halted the crawling beneath his skin.

Objectively, he knew Andrew helped, but it was also something Neil should’ve been able to do on his own. It wasn’t something he wanted to burden Andrew with, something that pulled him away from his responsibilities because Neil couldn’t manage to get through just a few fucking days without nearly falling apart.

And now Andrew was standing in the doorway of their bedroom in Columbia, the light from the hall flooding into the room and illuminating Neil in all his disgrace. The sweaty skin, the greasy hair, the circles under his eyes, the t-shirt Neil had bundled under his head.

Neil had found it wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe, undoubtedly tossed aside carelessly on a good day that involved lots of kissing and touching. It smelled a bit like old sweat, but Andrew’s scent also clung to it, and Neil was far beyond denying himself such a simple comfort.

Andrew kicked the bedroom door closed, and Neil listened to his footsteps as he approached in the dark. There was a click as Andrew tugged the chain of the small lamp on the nightstand. Andrew always hated how bright the overhead light was.

Andrew gestured to Neil’s entirety. “This is not fine.” He snagged the shirt from under Neil’s head, wrinkling his nose before tossing it aside.

Andrew had called him just two days earlier. They’d talked as they always did, exchanging stories and sometimes just sitting in silence, knowing the other was there and listening. Except this time Andrew had explicitly asked how Neil was holding up, and Neil had said he was fine.

“I meant what I said.” Neil mourned the loss of the shirt, but tucked his face closer to the pillow, where some of the smell had transferred.

Andrew’s jaw tensed. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself.” Something settled in Andrew’s gaze as he examined Neil, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’d make you bear this on your own.”

Andrew emptied his pockets on the nightstand, and Neil felt something loosen in him as well. As Andrew peeled off his jeans, Neil scooched over to make enough room on the bed.

“There were no games scheduled, so I got cleared for this time off weeks ago,” Andrew said as he slipped under the covers.

The relief Neil felt from his proximity didn’t lessen the weight of his glare. “And you’re telling me this now?”

“You should’ve known I’d be here for your yearly mental breakdown. At least you keep a consistent schedule. I was curious whether you’d be honest with me, but now I have to ask: Was it a lack of self-awareness or sheer bullheaded stubbornness that kept you from telling the truth?” Andrew was close enough Neil could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I didn’t believe you then, and your current appearance only validates that assessment. If I asked again what would your answer be now?”

Neil ignored his first impulse, which was to say he was fine. Not only was it the answer Andrew didn’t want, but it certainly wasn’t true. Frustratingly, everything Andrew said was right. The way Andrew could peel back his layers and see what was underneath used to be unsettling, but nowadays Neil found it reassuring. Even if it pissed him off. Even if Andrew told him things he didn’t want to hear.

“That I can’t sleep,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “That he’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, and that I wish you were here.”

“That’s better,” Andrew said. “Certainly more believable.”

Andrew reached for Neil, settling his arm over his waist and tugging him closer. Neil sagged into the contact, shuddering with relief as he tucked his head under Andrew’s.

Neil breathed him in. “I should be able to bear this on my own.”

“You don’t have to. I’d rather be here when you don’t need me than be away when you do.” Andrew tightened his arm, tangling Neil’s legs with his.

Neil had been holding himself together by threads for the past few days. In Andrew’s arms, he was safe enough to let himself fall apart. His chest was tight, and he gradually lost the steady breaths he forcibly maintained.

Andrew held him through it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on Neil’s spine. It was something Neil could focus on, something he could latch onto to draw himself back into his own body. Exhaustion crashed into him as soon as he did, but not before he made Andrew a promise.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“I know.”

[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

[inferno-0]

Symbiote | Headcanons |

───────────────────────────

Just a bunch of headcanons

────────────────────────────

Sorry for the English

Venom

* The most understanding and at the same time annoying symbiote. Sharing the body with him, let's say, is not a dangerous business, from the second time. You just need to know that you are no longer alone, there is literally a "living" creature in your body that chose you.

* Venom is not inherently hostile, although he is smart in his own way and has other thoughts, unless they come at the expense of yours. Jokes and straightforwardness of words, completely to his character. You don't know why Venom chose to behave this way.

Maybe this is a frequent change of the owner, who had the same temperament?

Unknown.

* Although the humor, which is witty enough, makes you laugh until he wants to "Devour".

Riot

* He chose you only because you didn't scream when you heard someone else's voice in your head. Riot had no choice but to stay with you.

The previous owner died while trying to fly to another planet, there was no point in moving on, because all people and in principle the creatures in which he possessed were not as indifferent as you.

* You live with him and it's not that problematic. Riot is quite serious about some things, anything he doesn't know he considers a threat or something primitive if he finds out what it is. His train of thought is sometimes cruel compared to yours, but you somehow manage to convince him of the opposite and not show your essence so harshly in front of people.

* Everything is complicated with Nutrition. Of course, Riot likes chocolate, but only a certain one. In the absence of this specimen, it will require people, but not animals.

Carnage

* You will have to suffer with this symbiote. Bloodthirsty and violent. Sharp and merciless. Carnage is the complete opposite of all those symbiotes that are higher. In any case, you are trying to calm him down with all your nerves and strength. The most offensive thing is that he did not even feel this leap in you and simply restored the body for himself.

* You were just unlucky with the meeting. Especially with him. Carnage was able to survive as Venom absorbed it back. The part that remained under the ruins penetrated into you. All the thoughts that filled your brain required one thing. Massacres and food. And it was not easy for you to stop such a flow. Carnage was and is a persistent symbiote, he blackmails and threatens you if you don't do what he wants.

* In case of disobedience, it will definitely touch some nerve in your brain to fulfill its whims.

You can only hope for fate.

────────────────────────────

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 lucky punch: chapter one

chapter synopsis: after getting drunk at a Bonney rager with Nami, you're nearly busted by the cops... good thing a sexy, green-haired stranger was there to save you.

cw: high school/college au, violence, underage drinking, parties, mature themes, profanity, sports, reader is on the volleyball team, zoro is in kendo, you and zoro are both seniors and eighteen, etc.

"Damn it! These boots are impossible!" you drunkenly whined, stumbling slightly as your foot caught a raised chunk of sidewalk.

You knew you should've done the run test before leaving Nami's.

Now you were paying the price.

Behind you, the signature er-whoop of a cop car echoed, the sound sending a pang of fear through your heart as the world seemed to feel like it was closing in, the swirling red and blue lights bounding off the buildings and surrounding you on all sides.

'Someone just had to snitch!'

A few moments earlier, you were having the time of your life—dancing, drinking, and partying to your heart's content with your best friend in the whole wide world.

The problem was that you weren't exactly the legal age to be drinking, and it was just your luck that Eustass Kid—absolutely sloshed out of his mind—managed to tee-pee the house next to Bonney's and forced them to call the police.

So a riot began when the cops pulled up on the lawn, everyone scattering like roaches in fear of being caught. 

Which was what you were supposed to be doing with your ginger gal pal.

But when the two of you nearly got cornered, you both split up, and, unluckily, you were the one the squad car chose to follow.

Now, to be fair, Bonney was known for throwing outrageous ragers at her house with little to no consequences, so all of this was bound to happen someday.

'But why'd they have to do this todayyyy?'

"Shit!"

Your shoes were holding you back from your full speed, forcing you to run awkwardly, while the alcohol pumping through your system made everything seem as if it was moving in slow motion, most of your attention focused on keeping on your feet.

Haphazardly, you attempted to cut a nearby corner, teetering to the side a little bit before you stabilized and continued to flounder down the sidewalk.

Despite the sharp pain in your heels, you pressed on strongly, knowing full well just what would happen if you were caught.

Out of all the people at the party, you were probably the one that could afford getting busted the least.

It was your dream to be the best volleyball player in the world, after all.

Because of your stellar performance as an outside hitter during your freshman year, you were whisked away to a special training camp across the country, where for two years you built up your body and honed your skills in hopes of returning senior year to be recognized by an international club.

Once that happens, it will be a straight shot to the top, ending with you going down in history as the greatest outside hitter volleyball has ever seen.

But, of course, all of that would fly right out the window if you gained a criminal record.

Your brows furrowed, feet picking up speed at the thought, even in your drunken state.

All that time...

All that work...

It would all be for nothing.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you into a nearby alleyway covering your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, eyes widening and blood running cold.

No!

You could've sworn the cop was still in the car...

How the hell did he get out so fast?

Yet as the squad car passed, the man holding you ducked into the shadows of the alley, watching closely as the police officer cruised past—the cop having stuck his head out the window to get a better look.

"Coulda swore she was right here..." he grumbled under his breath, brows furrowed.

He had a large scar stretching from his hairline to just above his cheekbone, two cigars hanging out the corner of his mouth as his eyes scanned over the area.

The mystery man's brows furrowed at the sight, body turning rigid.

Smoker.

'Shoulda known...'

He and Luffy had run into him a few times before.

The white-haired cop paused, giving the space one more once over before settling back in his seat, picking up his radio with an annoyed sigh.

"Tashigi, I lost her. Gonna circle back to your position and look for the redhead."

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Nami!" you whimpered, forcing the the man's calloused hand to press harder into your face to muffle the noise.

"Quiet," a deep, rough voice ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

He held you with an iron grip, not budging even an inch as you began to squirm in his grasp.

He wasn't gonna spend another night in the precinct because of some girl who couldn't hold her liquor.

Suspicious, Smoker glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as he looked directly at you—though he didn't know it.

Your heart stopped, your entire body freezing up as both you and the man behind you stayed still as statues, pressing firmer against the wall of the alley to avoid being revealed by the lights of the siren as the officer pulled off.

And once he was completely gone, you both let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping as the tension finally oozed out your back.

"Are you stupid or something?" the man spat, curtly, the two of you stepping into the moonlight now that the cop was gone. "You could've gotten us both caught."

You turned around, raising a brow as he stepped closer, his chest about an inch away from yours.

Yum.

As your eyes adjusted to the better lighting, you couldn't help the warm buzz growing in your stomach at the sight of the absolutely gorgeous man in front of you.

He had a strong jaw, which looked like it could cut through stone, with sharp features and dark eyes that could bring any woman to her knees.

Eyes raking over his body, you might as well have been drooling, your expression not hiding your thoughts at all as you admired the prime slab of grade A male beef standing before you.

You were surprised you didn't notice just how large he was until then, six feet of chorded, hard-earned muscle, with a certain air that just made you want him to put you in a headlock.

'And then some...'

Not to mention his cute, soft-looking green hair.

"Are you that stripper Bonney tried to call?" you giggled, twirling a lock of your hair between your fingers as a lousy attempt to flirt.

Surprised, Zoro's breath hitched, a faint tinge of pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

What you said had caught him completely off guard, and confirmed his suspicions that you were completely hammered.

Now, he wasn't a good Samaritan by any means, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to ditch the dead weight and go back to finding Luffy—they had gotten split up, too.

But as he watched you look up at him, eyes glazed and lidded, feet having a slight wobble even as you stood still, he knew he couldn't leave.

You were a young, defenseless woman who was in the middle of an empty street alone at night, drunk as a skunk.

If he left you alone, it'd bother him for the rest of the day.

"Do you know where you are?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Uh... no?" you pouted, taking a moment to slowly look around, indeed realizing that you had no idea where you were.

"Great," he huffed, grabbing your arm. "Do you know where you live?"

"Whyyyy...?"

"'Cause I'm gonna take your ass home."

"Woah, sir... how about you get to know me first?" you giggled, body swaying back and forth.

Eyes wide, he froze, turning red as a beet.

"It's not like that! I'm just giving you a ride—!"

"Listen, Mister Hot Guy," you interrupted, index finger digging into his hard chest. "You might've saved us from the police but that doesn't mean you can just have your way with me. We have to go to dinner first."

Taking a moment to pause, the man looked at you in disbelief.

Never in his life had he ever encountered such an idiotically stubborn person.

And not only were you stubborn, but you were also fucking beautiful.

While he was a man who prided himself on self-restraint and respect, he couldn't help but let his eyes rake over you as your arms came up to cross over your chest.

Sexy, tanned skin accentuated under the complementary blue of your jean tube-top, your jean mini-skirt just long enough to tease, while making your ass look fantastic.

Your lipgloss made your plump lips so soft and inviting, and your eyes were so warm he felt like they heated him from the inside out.

A date didn't sound too damn bad—

"That's enough," he shut down, talking to both you and himself as he began to tug you down the street, leading you to his car.

"Woah-hey! Let me go! This is—!" 

Your small fight to wriggle out of his grasp was interrupted as you lost your balance, feet slipping and body flying backward toward the ground.

Luckily, that same pair of strong hands grabbed your waist with a death grip, forcing a gasp out your lips as your hands shot up to cling to his broad shoulders.

Zoro sighed in exasperation, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, continuing his trek down the street until he turned the corner and reached the safety of his pickup.

He'd be damned if he had to deal with a drunk you and a drunk Luffy at the same time.

So, he settled on setting aside an hour of the night trying to find your house, or a friend to drop you off with, then he'd hit up Luffy and grab him at whatever restaurant he managed to clear out.

Foolproof.

"Hey! This is kidnapping!" you squealed as he tossed you in the backseat, shutting the door behind. "I'll call that cop back to get you!"

"And get arrested yourself," he said with a slight chuckle, plopping himself down in the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Glancing at the rear-view mirror, his eyes took another moment to look you over.

You really were beautiful, and seemed close to, if not the same age, as him.

And your little outfit wasn't too bad either.

"Like what you see?" you teased with a smirk, slightly leaning back to give him a better view.

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, not willing to give you the satisfaction.

"Put your seatbelt on," he ordered.

And although his tone was serious, you didn't miss the tinge of pink on his face.

"Can't," you shrugged, simply. "You're gonna have to help me..."

You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows and puffing your chest so that the man could get a nice look at your cleavage.

Unluckily for you, he knew better that to trust it, letting a tired hand rake through his hair as he realized how much of a pain in the ass this ride was going to be.

"Before, you said you knew a Nami," he grunted, resting his hands on the steering wheel. "That wouldn't happen to be Nami Nami, would it? Y'know, long orange hair, money-hungry, debt collecting?"

You gasped, eyes turning starry, "You know Nami?!"

The man let out a groan, dropping his head onto the horn, the car letting out a long beep as he just sat there, honestly amused by the circumstances.

Why was he not surprised?

Of course you and Nami were friends.

Annoyed, he shifted the truck into drive, pressing his foot on the gas and pulling off in the direction of Nami's house.

Now, not only did he have to drop your ass off, but he also had to pay back Nami the fifty dollars he owed, and then still go back out and grab Luffy.

And it was all thanks to you.

He grumbled to himself, resting his cheek in his palm as his other hand rested on the wheel.

'If I ever meet this woman again, it'll be too soon...'

[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.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 6 | 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, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

prev ○ next

[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.