#Class 11 includes practice

[sagarrachnagrp]

Latest Edition Question Bank Class 11 Economics for Annual 2024 Exam Preparation

Best CBSE Question Bank for Class 11 2024 Economics provides students with chapter wise important terminologies. Each chapter division provided herein reflects on important concepts through different typologies of questions including very short/short and long answer type. Best CBSE Question Bank for Class 11 includes practice papers based on analysis of time management skills by CBSE

[lej222]

Supernatural Involvement and Ominous Signs in ASLFUA

For a while, many readers have theorized that there is some kind of a higher power/higher being in ASLFUA, and looking at the latest episodes it seems to have been confirmed. With this post, I've tried to gather every instance of the higher power's implied presence and all the ominous scenes in the story. I also included foreshadowing scenes that could have made Miae aware of certain things if she had paid attention because coincidences are important in the story, and certain moments that were defining in the plot. The list contains spoilers for the newest KR episodes and it keeps being updated.

Episode 2 :

Miae is reading a book in the library about how the last day of 1999 will be the end of the world: "'1999, a terrifying overlord is coming...the end of the human race.." -> this might be a reference to the famous prophecy of Nostradamus in which in the 7th month of 1999 a great king of terror would descend from the skies (which makes me think...is it July in the story right now?)

The Hwang family's phone stops working

Miae's dresser breaks and therefore she has to take out the trash, where she sees Cheol crying

"This boy is about to be this girl's most special person, someone whom she will never be able to forget."

Episode 3

Miae and her mother visit the Buddha statue and Miae's wish is not to be in the same class with Cheol - it doesn't come true.

Miae, Cheol and Jisu all become classmates in their last year. Miae and Cheol become deskmates by coincidence.

Episode 4

Cheol's furniture becomes Miae's, along with the contents of his dresser, something only he knows about

Episode 5

Yunhui calls Miae on their new cordless phone, the line is interrupted by another conversation, "Did you get the present I sent you?" - it sounds like a message to Miae from the higher power about Cheol

Episode 8

Miae ruins her bangs, her mother says she should do something about her hair - the first time we are told Miae should go to a hairdresser to fix it

Hwanggeum Academy uses corporal punishment - might be relevant later on?

Miae has to go to karaoke so she gives up on going to the hair salon (this foreshadowing is super crazy btw)

Episode 9

Cheol is compared to the protagonist of the comic Miae reads, 'My First Love Next Door Is Number 1' - gets into trouble and transfers, fights the school bully and wins, nicknamed Lucifer, has a facial scar, lives next door

As Miae is thinking about Cheol, her thoughts are interrupted by a cockroach in the classroom

Episode 11

Miae notes how strange it is that she keeps seeing Cheol while they didn't bump into each other the previous year (just like how Jisu later keeps commenting how strange he keeps meeting Miae) - Miae acknowledges the higher power

Yunhui's pager says "between friends goodbye"

Episode 12

Miae has a weird feeling when she's talking to Cheol's shoe as if it understands what she's saying

Episode 15

In her dream, Miae remembers Cheol crying and her making a wish with a stone tower about how she wants to be his friend. The phone suddenly rings, the TV becomes static and there's a storm outside despite the weather forecast not saying anything about it. The other end of the phone is silent and the lights go out.

Episode 17

Cheol's shoe gets smudged with ink so Miae cannot give it back to him. She cannot concentrate on her practice test, foreshadowing her involvement with Cheol's academy.

Episode 21

Miae again remembers some memories about Cheol saying he doesn't want to be her friend while she's sleeping

Side note: while Soonkki is a great writer, there's some inconsistency about Jisu's seating arrangement. I think she always meant him to sit in Block 1, that's why we got limited panels of that area of the classroom, but his position kept changing until his official introduction. Here, he should have been sitting in front of Seonghan, but there's another boy in that seat. In episode 23, we get a panel of Block1 again, and there's a boy who looks like Jisu from behind in that.

She again remembers her time with Cheol while sleeping on the bus

Episode 24

Daebak Academy notebook says "The teacher is spoon-feeding you, so why can't you pass" -> the higher power is giving hints to Miae, why can't she understand them?

Episode 29

Miae thinks about how she doesn't bump into Cheol as much as before, we get a close-up of the shoe and the Daebak Academy notebook

Episode 37

Miae falls on Cheol while playing soccer

Episode 39

Miae and Cheol are arguing but still bump into each other because of their parents

While Miae thinks about how Cheol should smile at people, she almost gets hit by a ball but Cheol saves her.

Episode 40

Cheol goes to Miae's house to do their homework. Miae's mother says she wonders if it will rain before she leaves. Cheol tries to change the lightbulb in Miae's room, but the lights go out because of the storm. Miae thinks "again?" and they fall on each other. She tells Cheol they should be friends.

Episode 41

Cheol agrees to be Miae's friend and we see a flashback of young Miae wishing they would be friends. While they are doing their homework the rain stops. Miae says planes even fly in the rain and Cheol replies that airplanes fly above the clouds.

Episode 42

Miae answers their phone and the line is interrupted again. Someone thanks their boss for the present and says they will do well on their own from now. -> is it a sign Miae should do well on her own after the hints?

Interesting to note that every time Miae might be involved with the higher power, certain objects in her room are highlighted - Cheol's shoe, the lamp, the notebooks. They all give signs to Miae that she keeps ignoring.

Episode 43

Cheol and Yonghui point out that Miae should get a haircut. Miae ends up cutting it herself instead of going to a salon.

Episode 45

Miae wishes upon a star instead of a plane so that the presentation in class will go okay. This actually comes true, as also noted by the narrator in ep 46.

Episode 46

Daebak Academy booklet says "nothing comes easy"

Episode 47

Something I've noticed is that throughout the story Miae keeps thinking she forgot something, and there's usually a situation that seems like the answer to it. Here, it turns out she forgot about Jinseop's homework. And Taekwang's song is about how someone cannot do both things at the same time. It was the same when she forgot about her homework while playing soccer. Forgetting about things is a recurring plot point for Miae, which culminates in the Jisu subplot where we learn Miae completely forgot about his existence even though she didn't have many friends who were boys.

Episode 50

Cheol's father wants to take a picture of Cheol and Miae, but Cheol refuses

Episode 51

Miae again cuts her own hair and wonders if she cut it too straight

Episode 55

Cheol kicks Miae's pencil into Jisu's chair (side note: you can see here again how Jisu's seating arrangement was inconsistent, he should have been closer to the window)

Episode 56

Miae gets sent out to the corridor with Jisu

Miae's friends talk about handsome boys and someone mentions the number1 student (Jisu)

Episode 60

Jisu becomes Miae's folk dance partner - the first time Cheol and Miae are not doing something together

Episode 61

Hwanggeum Academy booklet says "there's nothing you can't do if you put the work in, do not expect a miracle" when Miae is struggling with the dance

Episode 65

Cheol's father takes a picture of Cheol and Miae after the sports festival

Episode 66

In Miae's dream, Cheol's sister says for a while means 5-6 yrs, Miae counts she will be in middle school by then. There's also a memory of Miae running after Cheol, saying "wait for me".

Miae's mother tells her to get a haircut but Miae replies she needs a bigger allowance for it.

The narrator says Miae should watch where she's walking after she bumps into Cheol.

Episode 67

Miae loses her name tag and Jisu finds it

Episode 70

Miae wonders how her wishes never come true, but remembers she also made one with the stone tower as a kid, but cannot recall what it was about.

Episode 71

Miae's mom notes their phone keeps ringing since yesterday. The day before Miae wanted to tease Cheol with how she heard him saying he "loved her" in the shop and she saw him shirtless the same night.

Miae doesn't realize it was Jisu who called her a pervert

Episode 72

Miae notices someone wearing her name tag (Jisu), but doesn't find the culprit

Episode 75

Cheol wants to ask Miae something, but the homeroom teacher interrupts. Miae and Jisu get called to the teachers' room and have to do cleaning duty together for a week.

Episode 76

We see Miae's mom at a hair salon - could the lady in orange be Jisu's mother? who knows

Episode 77

Cheol stands up for Miae, but when Honggyu asks if they are dating, they both vehemently deny it. It suddenly starts raining.

Episode 78

Miae and cheol promise to be friends for real, forever. The narration comments, "But will they end up regretting their promise?". The rain stops. "1999, the final year of the century is half over" -> Miae's story is half over at this point. I have pointed out this before, but the series seems to be about the transition period between childhood and young adulthood, symbolized by the last year before the new millennium. Hence the title, 'green apple academy'

In her dream, Miae remembers asking Cheol if they are friends. She is awoken by their phone. the Daebak Academy notebook says "you are in danger if you are relaxed" and we see a girl talking to Cheol.

Episode 81

Cheol and Miae fall on each other and almost kiss, but the phone rings. Later, they do end up in the same position with an accidental kiss.

Episode 82

Miae wants to confront Cheol about the kiss and gets embarrassed, but her actions are interrupted when the trash bag she gave Jisu splits open, spilling its contents. Miae runs to him to collect it.

Episode 83

While Miae talks to her friends, she thinks back on her memories with Cheol and the narration says "I always liked.." and Miae looks surprised by it.

Episode 86

Interesting detail that Cheol doesn't know why Miae keeps looking at airplanes. If we assume she has a reason for doing it from the past, it's likely not related to Cheol.

Episode 87

Miae uses the trashbag as an excuse to run away from Cheol, repeating how she has to throw it out. All of a sudden, Jisu appears and takes it out of her hand, giving her a chance to run. It's just my personal theory that the trashbag here symbolizes Miae's vulnerability and reluctance to face her feelings, and Jisu takes it from her hand. It makes sense when we remember how his words made her think about her actions when she wanted to interrupt the confession. It's a great early foreshadowing that Jisu might play an important role in Miae's growth story as her voice of reason.

Episode 89

Cheol and Miae take photos together in a photo booth, first with Jinseop and Song-I, then the two of them alone. We don't know if Miae still has her pictures, but we can assume she somehow lost them during running around from the bullies because we never see them again. Cheol gives her a new name tag in the next episode.

Episode 95

Cheol gifts Miae an airplane model for her birthday. I personally believe this episode marks the end of the first part of the story and it's a turning point, but more about this under ep96.

While Miae leaves for school, their phone suddenly rings and her mom answers it. Miae sees posters about love on her way to school. For the first time, Jisu arives early for cleaning duty.

Episode 96

The series has had 2 symbolic illustrations at the end of 2 episodes. The first one was at the end of ep2, when Cheol and Miae's story started in the present:

Miae is offering a green apple to Cheol - a biblical allusion, here, the green apple probably signifies how Miae helps Cheol in the first part of the story to mature and grow as a person with her own knowledge.

This illustration comes at the end of ep96. Like I mentioned, I believe this marks the start of the second half of the story which focuses on Miae's growth as a person. Space is an important concept in the series, Miae also has planet stickers on the wall of her room,has a charm on her bag, etc.

"16 years old. An age much like the universe." "16 years old. An age where it's like you're thrown into space." - highlights the narration.

But why is it compared to space? We have the illustration right after Jisu splashes water on Miae's face and Cheol wakes up from his dream. In my opinion, it's because this is where these kids' limited worlds start to expand. In part 1, Cheol and Miae were mainly together, but as you grow up you start to feel like you're just one insignificant part of a greater whole. You might feel like you're the center of the universe when you're a teenager, and that the world is ending when you experience negative emotions, but as the illustration shows us, it's not just Miae and Cheol standing alone in the universe. There are other people, facing different directions, but they are all interconnected by an invisible force. Miae is looking at Cheol, but Jisu is standing in her shadow- because even though she was not aware of him, Jisu had his own life happening parallel to what we saw in part1, and this is where he starts to have an intersection with Miae. If there is a higher power in the story, it is aware of all these connections and talks about youth in a nostalgic way. The sense that these moments are fleeting is always present in the story, however, connections formed between individuals will always have a lasting impact, just like how the universe will continue to exist. Being thrown into space might feel like losing your footing, but here it's the personal relationships that ground these teenagers and make them stay close to Earth.

Episode 98

The teacher tells Miae to cut her hair after Jisu takes the blame for ruining the plant.

Cheol is acting strange because of his dream, and while Jisu looks at Miae the narration box says: "16 years old. An age riddled with the unknown, just like the universe."

Episode 99

Miae's hair gets stuck in the zipper of Cheol's bag and he pulls it out, ruining her bangs in the process. They go to the infirmary after Miae gets scratched by the zipper.

Episode 100

At the countryside, while Miae picked a flower she thought how nice it would be if Cheol came to her school - and it became true. She thinks how it was so strange -> Miae again unknowingly acknowledges the higher power when it comes to Cheol

Episode 101

It's raining and the TV is not working in Cheol's home. He remembers taking a picture with Miae in the countryside. He asks his father about the picture on the sports day -> the data was lost. Miae gets grounded by her mother and she wants her to quit the academy.

Episode 102

I've mentioned symbolic objects in the story, but this one was noted by other readers as well: in ep 101, Miae accidentally drops the chalkboard eraser out of the window and Jisu fails to catch it - but Cheol does. However, in this episode Miae tosses it back to Jisu before saying she hopes they'll never see each other again (it's the first, but not the last time she declares it).

Cheol fails to convince Miae's mom about the academy -> Miae's mom points out Miae's grades have been dropping since last year. She makes her stance clear - she wants Miae to study.

Episode 103

It's raining and Miae cannot open Cheol's drawer in her room.

She tries to cut her hair, but the phone rings. On the other line, Miae hears someone saying "I only did what I did because you wanted it so bad, but you screwed up that chance! You don't deserve that project, I'm going to hand it to someone else." -> the first time the higher power tries to directly say Miae is late

Miae's mom cuts her hair instead of sending her to a salon...

Miae loses the name tag Cheol gave her

Episode 104

Jisu says "see you again" to Miae (and will keep saying for a while lol). Miae points out she never wanted to see him again.

Episode 106

After the teacher discovers their conversations in class, Miae and Cheol get separated and Miae becomes Jisu's deskmate. Miae and Cheol are not allowed to interact until the final exams are over.

Hwanggeum Academy's notebook remarks "Do you regret it now?"

Episode 107

Miae dreams about the flower from the countryside and a voice says she should hurry up and do what she wants about her wish if she remembers. She doesn't remember and the voice gets angry, Cheol appears and crushes the flower, telling her if she doesn't remember she should just forget it. The voice remarks Cheol is angry because Miae is late.

Episode 111

Jisu, who has also become aware of the coincidences, tells Cheol he's not the only one having something special with Miae.

When Miae calls Jisu her friend from the same class and tells him he should learn for himself, Jisu tries to say something, but he is interrupted by Cheol.

Episode 112

Miae thinks about their bet and how she should ask something serious, something more than friends do from Cheol, and we get a bunch of error messages. Cheol's dream is all fuzzy.

Jisu wins the bet, but we never get to know his wish because Miae gets angry at him.

Episode 115

The narration points out Cheol has changed and matured a lot, is it Miae's turn?

Episode 116

We see some posters about a summer festival, the forest in Midsummer Night's Dream and how everything is the product of coincidence.

The forest in Shakespeare's play is dominated by the supernatural - what we have in common with this story is the forest Miae and Cheol played together as kids, and obviously the involvement of a higher power. The coincidences poster is possibly a reference to Carl Jung's Synchronicity, a concept that states that seemingly meaningful coincidences have a deeper meaning, they don't have a rational explanation - almost like destiny, a deeper order in the universe. It's a connection between one's psyche and the material world (so you have to notice and acknowledge the deeper meaning of these coincidences in order to experience synchronicity). Jung used this to argue for the existence of the paranormal. For example, if you cannot decide something, you might come across a book on the topic. What a coincidence, right? In this interpretation, everything is interconnected in the universe, and we are a part of this web of connections. So those coincidences...were actually not coincidences. -> Hmmmmm.....I wonder.....meaningful coincidences, the universe, connections...why do they sound familiar??? BECAUSE OUR STORY IS EXACTLY ABOUT THIS NOTION! Who notices these coincidences? Miae about Cheol, Jisu about Miae....One has to be open to the possibility of the connection between our inner world and the outside world, only then they can start to notice the signs the universe is sending them. Soonkki, you deserve my applause! Because it was exactly what I said about the art at the end of ep 96 and the placement of the characters. Mind? Blown!

Miae thinks that she feels something is wrong

Yunhui's pager says friends goodbye

Jisu gets involved in the Yonghui-Yunhui storyline by coincidence

Episode 117

We see all the coincidences from Jisu's perspective and how he became aware of them. And what does he say about them? That they are fascinating and kind of funny! My boy Jisu got the synchronicity message.

This is the 3rd time Miae and Jisu didn't hold hands. The first time Miae pretended to help him up, only for him to fall back. Then Jisu held out his hand after the exam, but she didn't take it. Here, he again reaches out and Miae doesn't take his hand. Remember this later!

Episode 118

Someone steps on Cheol's bag, and he's worried it might be Taeuk

Jisu wants to join in another bet in exchange for his help

Episode 119

Jisu gets involved in the Shim storyline, and as we know from later he picks up the cigarettes to get revenge on him

Episode 122

Miae learns that Cheol rejected Seonyeong and the lights flicker in her room

She cannot remember her dream. The narration says that she should have realized that something changed.

Episode 123

Miae notes that she experienced the kiss in the comic book with Cheol

Jisu almost catches her, but Cheol pushes him away

Episode 126

The parents are having dinner together at a pig feet restaurant and toast for the future of their children. The TV is not working, and a boy who looks like Jisu tries to fix it.

Miae kisses Cheol

Episode 127

Miae has a dream again in the white dress. As she realizes she might like Cheol, the voice says she's too late and there's no use regretting it.

Episode 129

Miae remembers that they took a picture in the countryside together and wants to take one now. She makes a wish to an airplane about how she just wants one photo, and remarks that the planes never granted her wish before. Spoiler, they won't this time, either.

Miae chooses to take the picture with Cheol. The narration box says "she's always done whatever she sets her mind to. That has always been one of her better attributes. But Mi-ae, it seems as though you keep forgetting something. I told you, you're too late."

The pager's message means idiot, cancelled and it suddenly starts raining. Maie and Cheol cannot take their photo and Cheol cannot give her back the hairpin she dropped a few eps ago.

Episode 132

Graduation photos were postponed until the second semester

In Miae's dream, the voice says she's all over the place and cannot decide what she wants from Cheol. In her memory, Miae wishes at the stone tower that Cheol would like her back. The voice angrily remarks how it must not mean much to her.

Episode 133

While Cheol and Miae are looking at each other, Miae is smacked in the face by a flyer. Later while they are riding the bike, Cheol almost says she looks pretty but he is hit in the face with a flyer that belonged to Jisu.

Episode 134

Miae takes the cigarettes from Jisu and puts them in her backpack

While Jisu and Miae look at each other, the narration box says "Well. this is what we would call fate. What do you think?" Miae can sense the voice and dismisses it.

Jisu again says "see you later" and Miae answers let's not, but Jisu replies they never know and it would be fun.

On the radio in Miae's room there's a voice speaking, asking if it was a success and how there is something you can't stop thinking about. "A friend? The fact that you weren't wrong? Whatever it is, I don't think it's such a bad thing to obsess over it a little bit. I hope you have no regrets about it."

Episode 135

Miae's eyebrow and bangs are so ruined she has to finally go to a hair salon. Yunhui gives her money and says there's a cheap place where she can go. It turns out Jisu's mother is a hairdresser and after realizing she is Jisu's friend, she doesn't ask for money. So if anyone ever wondered why Miae kept ruining her hair in the story, here's the answer....

a little bit of strange wording here:

The narration says "Now that I think about it, this was about the time..wait,no, it was a little bit earlier that things started to go wrong, little by little. You two were completely oblivious, though. Just you two."

Miae's mother goes to the academy. One theory I can give on this is that Miae's family might be moving. She wished for it at the start of the story, mentions it in a later episode as well. Who knows ~

Episode 138

Miae doesn't tell Cheol her feelings because of her pride as she feels like she would lose first

Miae has a feeling as if something is trying to make her look bad in front of Cheol and her gun suddenly starts working

Everybody forgot to buy the picture they took together in ep 139

Episode 140

After conveying their feelings indirectly to each other, Miae tells Cheol they cannot date right now because her mom wouldn't allow it. She plans to go to the same high school, university, everything and thinks there's no one to stop them so nothing can go wrong.

Episode 141

Cheol imagines high school together with Miae and their friends

Every time Cheol is flustered, he accidentally drinks his sister's coffee and he cannot sleep at night..in a story where dreams are relevant I'm sure this is just a coincidence, right???🧐🙃😏

Miae says they should not be obvious before the entrance exam and they start to think of it as a competition

Someone watches them from the street

Episode 144-145

We get everything from Cheol's POV

Cheol got his scar because he wanted to give Miae the romance book she liked before they left and he fell on the stone tower

The picture his dad took of them is about a young Cheol accidentally kneeling with flowers in his hands, the same flowers from Miae's dream, in front of Miae. This picture was in the book Cheol and his family kept.

Cheol realized the book was in his dresser that is now in Miae's room, the one she couldn't open before

Episode 146

Miae sees two flyers in the newspaper, one is about how a student still didn't give it up, the other is about changing one's car

On the street, the same car ads keep flying after her in the wind

Miae goes with Yonghui to wait in a line and the same flyers are all over the place

Episode 147

Miae wants to call Cheol, but Jisu stops her. Miae notices how often they have met during vacation, and Jisu says these coincidences are fun. He remarks it's almost like as if some higher power is involved (!!). Miae is standing on the car ad, they look down on it with Jisu, then she kicks it away. Jisu tells her he has a feeling they will meet again, but Miae hopes they won't.

The academy is also full of the car ads and Miae falls on them

Miae thinks that for a while she's had a feeling as if something wants to get between her and Cheol, but brushes it off

Miae ends up with a bubble gum in her hair and goes to Jisu's house to fix it. Jisu tells her she should stay because he is bored, and there is a car ad on a stool.

Episode 148

We see some of Jisu's childhood memories and he was called a magpie by Miae which was a symbolic choice (I also made a post about it). Jisu in this story is the grateful magpie.

Miae and Jisu "touch hands" for the first time when they high-five (I wrote about how their hand hold never happened before)

After spotting some men smoking, Jisu tells Miae to go inside (one of them might be his father?)

Episode 149

Miae finally remembers Jisu

the narration boxs keeps saying how Jisu is cool and showing heart-thumping sounds and Miae is confused about these strange things

Miae not remembering Jisu was an important plot point considering she recalled everyone else from her past. As I theorized, memories and fate seem to be intertwined, the synchronicity theory also supports this. Synchronicity happens when seemingly unrelated events coincide and they become significant to you. It's easy to see why Jisu was aware of this notion, but Miae was not - because Miae had no idea about those coincidences other than meeting Jisu randomly. Him being her classmate, being the one who found her pencil, who helped her in the crowd, found her name tag, etc. - only Jisu knew about these. But right now, Miae was made aware that they knew each other in the past - a pretty big coincidence.

So now that Miae might have kickstarted her own fate, the question is whether she will be able to fight it or if there are certain things bound to happen no matter what. Is the narrator omnipotent and omniscient? So many questions that will hopefully get answered.

Episode 150

For the first time, Miae says she and Jisu will see each other again sometime. Before this, it was always Jisu who said it and Miae would reply that she didn't want to meet him again.

Miae remembers Jisu transferring, but doesn't know why he singled her out (so she will probably recall more memories later)

As Miae leaves Jisu's house, the car ads are flying in the air around her

Jisu enrolls at the academy and for the first time he says it's not a coincidence

Episode 155

Hwani tells her mother it would be great if they could keep being neighbours with Miae because she's fun. After a pause, Cheol's mother agrees.

Jisu keeps telling Miae she's a "traitor" or "bat" (depending on the translation, meaning she keeps secrets from others like the Yonghui Yunhui situation and the fact that she went to Jisu's house) and she might get into trouble because of that

Episode 156

The narrator directly communicates with Miae again, and informs us about Miae's thoughts. It makes heart-thumping sounds when she's with Jisu just like in previous episodes, but Miae ignores them.

Jisu again says how the coincidences are so fun. He counts to three until the teacher interrupts Miae and Cheol's bickering (similarly to Taekwang in ep 158)

When Jisu tells Miae he'll go out of the room to let her talk with Cheol, Miae thinks she'll talk to him regardless of anyone's interference and we get a close-up of an academy notebook saying 'NO' and a plane flying in the sky.

Episode 158

Flashforward in the episode to a scene with Cheol leaving Miae at the academy while a storm is coming and Miae looks like she's about to cry

An hour earlier in the story the dark clouds are already gathering (I mentioned how rainy weather is always connected to the change in Miae and Cheol's relationship, and how it's usually an ominous sign). After seeing Jisu's flustered face, Cheol tells Miae that he wants to change the lightbulb in her house before she gets hurt. The lights at the academy are highlighted as they keep vibrating. (I also noted how the lights are signs of the supposed higher power, they get their own panels in Miae's room, and they went out 2 times when Miae and Cheol's relationship changed)

After Jisu reveals that Miae was in his house and Cheol gets angry, Miae's pager starts buzzing (again, the pager messages always appear when the higher power wants to communicate with Miae).

Taekwang is an interesting character because the things he says are sometimes connected to the greater theme of the story. Like when he listened to his music and said how Miae cannot choose two things at the same time (come on, it was the foreshadowing for the current conflicts!), he smelled Jisu on Miae (???), Jisu even said he's the one he cannot deal with, and now he was counting the seconds until Miae got another sign. Is he used as a medium? (who knows lol)

Miae wants to check the pager message but the fluorescent lamp(?) breaks. Jisu shields Miae from the shards while they fall on the ground, making it his first successful attempt to save Miae in the story. The pager lands in the corner of the room.

Episode 159

Miae goes to a phone booth to check her messages and it's filled with the car ads so she kicks them away

The first message is a loud noise of a song recording. I personally think if there's a higher power in the story, this message came from it. The other is about Miae's friends telling her they'll visit her at her academy which gives Miae a sense of panic knowing Yonghui and Yunhui might meet.

Miae sees an airplane in the sky and the narration says Miae has a feeling that something is interfering with her and the panels get fuzzy with flashbacks to phone calls earlier in the story (omg this is actually crazy)

It starts raining and we get a glimpse of the last countryside memory we haven't seen yet about Miae running after Cheol at night. In the present, Miae trips just as she did as a kid, but instead of Cheol she meets Tae Uk.

[fyxestroll]

Whose Problem Is It When the Primarchs Fall in Love? Pt.2

note: posting this during class because im school is making me lose my mind :>

Unnamed Primarch #11 - Had a relationship so healthy Emps got jealous and deleted them from existence.

Angron - Theoretically it should be everyone’s problem but in practice, it’s mainly Angron’s. Like everything in his life, Angron falling in love is a tragedy; there are no good scenarios, no good endings. The Butcher’s Nails have robbed him of many things including the whirlwind of emotions that came with falling in love being replaced by pain, so much pain. There are so many what-ifs, could-have-been and should-have-beens with Angron that in another life—one kinder to him, you just know that he would love you with all of himself. 

Guilliman - He joins Jaghatai in the no-ones problem club. He handles falling in love well, there’s no unbearable pining or disastrous courting ideas. Internally, though, he hesitates from time to time because of the weight he carries on his shoulders. He dreams of retirement, of a simple life and that dream involves falling in love too but he’s far from retirement, far from that simple life. There’s always that nagging thought that his pursuit of you would have you be put into harm's way.

Mortarion - It’s his problem and it makes him miserable. When Mortarion falls in love he expects to be rejected almost immediately. He expects to be hated, to be seen as disgusting. This leads to him avoiding you because despite expecting it, he can’t bear to handle that sort of rejection. Still, he pines from a distance. If Mortarion’s feelings for you are requited then good luck its a never-ending game of hide and seek with his man. 

Magnus the Red - It’s your problem. Have you ever had that one smart classmate that goes ‘oh i didn’t review’ after getting a perfect score and its obvious they said that because they want to be praised? Well, that’s Magnus. He wants your attention and he wants your approval. Praise him, tell him how smart he is, keep up with his genius. Oh, this man can be perceived as so damn annoying and the worst part is that he doesn’t even realise it. When he falls in love, he looks for an equal in tht person.  He wants someone who can keep up with him, someone he can bounce off ideas with but he winds up expressing it in a way that unintentionally insults your intelligence. He’s like a pretentious peacock with the way he’s showing off his mastery of the warp. To have requited feelings for this man means being the most patient and understanding person in the whole galaxy.

Horus - It’s your problem. Like with Magnus you’d need a lot of patience with this man. Horus is like a big bald frat boy and when he pines his frat legion is right behind him. If the Space Wolves are singing kiss the girl the Luna Wolves are doing that with fireworks. Its endearing but so much so that it loops back to being cringe. Not even Horus’ Primarch charisma can help them on that one. Either way, whether you fall for him or not there's just this nagging feeling that something is about to go wrong at any moment.

Lorgar - Three your problems in a row lfg!!! Love for Lorgar is both spiritual happiness and guilt so when he falls in love he feels both. Worse, is that when Lorgar falls in love, he falls in LOVE. His emotions for you are intense and all-encompassing resulting in Lorgar deifying you and feeling immense guilt at what he feels as he feels that his feelings for you is him being corrupted in some way. It’s intense, it’s toxic and unless you’re into that it's your problem.

 Vulkan - He’s the president of the no-one’s-problem club. The OG in-touch with his emotions guy. The closest thing he’d have a problem with is that he looks intimidating as hell so if you aren’t close to him or don’t know him well you might be intimidated but that’s nothing a little quality time with him can’t fix! 

Corvus Corax - It’s his problem but he handles it better than most of the Primarchs on this list. He's well-adjusted enough to go with the flow but the insecurity is still there. He knows that under his skin he’s not exactly human and whether or not you are just the slightest bit aware of a Primarch’s true nature it kills him. Still, out of hypocrysy selfishness, he attempts to pursue you, hesitating every step of the way. Don’t be surprised if he ghosts you for days and then comes back badly trying to pretend like nothing happened.

Alpharius Omegon - It’s their problem (????) Alpharius and Omegon come as a packaged pair in just about anything including love, at least initially. They’re technically the same person but they’re still at their core individuals of the slightest variations so when they fall in love they need to be acknowledged as an individual by that person. It’s messy, internal and highlights the hairline cracks in the twins’ relationship. You don’t know that any of this is happening all you know is that Alpharius likes you.

[pit-stop-princess]

Click Click - Chapter Three

Ollie Bearman x Photographer!Fem!Reader

Kimi Antonelli & Antonelli!Sister!Reader

Summary: I came to F1 with my little brother Kimi to photograph his rookie season, not to fall for his best friend and Haas's golden boy. Somehow, Ollie Bearman keeps ending up in my shots!

Warnings: Angst, fluff, awkward text messages, young Kimi panicking, self-doubt, talk of perfection, picture of woman in swimsuit, light swearing

Word Count: 1694, not including text threads or social media posts

Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It's very long. I'm graduating in just two weeks, so I've been feeling very nostalgic lately, and this chapter very much reflects that. Val's face claim is Niki Victoria for the sake of consistency. All in all, please enjoy and let me know what you liked about it!

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Nine Years Ago, ages 11 & 12

The kart was still smoking faintly when I reached the edge of the track, skidding to a stop just past the barriers. Kimi had ripped off his helmet and sat slumped in the grass, tear tracks already streaking the dirt on his cheeks. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp little curls, and he looked about two seconds from a full meltdown.

“My engine died,” he said, voice breaking halfway through. “It just- it stalled and I couldn’t fix it and I DNF’d the race and-”

“Hey,” I said, crouching in front of him. “Breathe, Kimi. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sniffled. “I practiced so hard. And I was gonna win. You said I could win.”

“You can win.” I reached out and wiped a smudge of oil off his nose. “Just not today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” I agreed. “But you’re not done yet.”

He looked up at me through wet lashes, lip wobbling. “What if I never make it?”

I smiled, even though my throat was suddenly tight. “Kimi, I swear on the stars you will. And when you do? I’ll be there. Every race. Every lap. Camera in hand, yelling louder than your entire pit wall.”

His eyes went wide. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I said, tears pricking my own eyes, pinky out. “You race. I’ll shoot. Deal?”

He linked his pinky with mine. “Deal.”

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Present Day

speed bump = Kimi, ollie bearman = Ollie Bearman, that bitch val = Valentina (Val)

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Val was waiting for me at the airport. She's tall, all sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes, with beautiful curls that live in a perpetual state of artful chaos. She’s got the kind of style that looks effortlessly put together, even when it’s just thrifted jeans, a cropped tee, and golden hoop earrings.

We met at fourteen, two kids who dreamed too big for their school and the nuns who ran it.

Val was the new girl from Florence with clean blue nail polish and dreams of being a model. I was the girl with a camera instead of friends, always in the back of the classroom documenting shadows and corners and silence.

We were on a class trip when I asked if I could take a picture of her for the first time. I posed her, set up my angle, and got the shot. It was my first photo I was truly happy with since leaving Kimi.

When I showed Val the shot, she gripped my arm and told me I was the only one who made her look like her.

We’ve stuck together ever since.

She speaks with her hands, her heart, and absolutely no filter. One minute she’s dramatically reenacting a conversation with the cute barista at the cafe, the next she’s waxing poetic about the symbolism in a street mural or why that particular pigeon seems to be giving her attitude. There’s always a snack in her bag, a book with a cracked spine, and at least three bandages for other people’s blisters.

I told her how I loved motorsports, but stopped when Kimi went to the academy. I showed her the pictures I had taken, a year old at that point, and then newer pictures of people, landscapes, close-ups, and everything in between.

“You always think you’re photographing people doing something. Driving. Laughing. Walking. But the ones that matter, they’re when the person forgets they’re doing anything at all. It’s the breath between words. The blink after a smile. That’s the truth.”

When we left school, we built our empires. I would photograph for her, she would model for me. Our portfolios grew in tandem. She got her first job with a boutique brand in Milan. I got published in a small arts zine out of Rome. When I landed a travel feature for a new indie magazine, Val came with me to the Amalfi coast, wearing vintage scarves and red lipstick, standing barefoot on sea-slick rocks while I got the shot.

“You make me look like someone worth looking at,” she said once, quiet and serious, as we reviewed the prints in a café booth sticky with sugar.

I laughed. “You always were.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Before you, I just felt… pretty. Now I feel seen.”

And now, here she is, picking me up from the airport, hugging me so tight I lose my breath, already talking a mile a minute about the pasta she made and the barista she may or may not have a crush on but is too stubborn to admit it.

“I missed you,” I say into her hair, which smells like bergamot and sea salt.

She squeezes me tighter. “You left for, like, two weeks.”

“I know,” I say. “Too long.”

She pulls back, squints at me, then grins. “You look pale.”

“You look chaotic.”

“Thank you,” she says proudly. “Now come on. I made pesto. And I want to hear everything.”

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“So. Kimi sent you Ollie’s number, you texted first, he responded, and then the conversation died.”

“SÌ, basically. I think he might have been busy because he said he was ‘just training’ but I don’t know if I came across as too awkward.” I said, flopping down on her couch. “We haven’t talked outside of Kimi introducing us, so maybe it was too soon?”

Val shrugged her perfectly tan shoulder. “Maybe.”

“You’re supposed to lie and assure me it wasn’t too soon.”

She blinked at me. “Okay, you came off tragically normal. That’s even worse.”

I groaned and threw my arm over my eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” She said, standing up gracefully. “Now come on, you’re back home, and we’re going to the beach. I need fresh air, and you need the sun.”

“I’m not that pale!”

She threw my swimsuit at me.

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I had missed the beach.

By the time we got down to the shore, the sun was bright and the sea was throwing glitter across the surface with every wave. I kicked off my shoes and wandered to the edge of the tide, the sand already cool and damp beneath my feet.

I just stood there, let the breeze get into my hair, let the waves pull at my ankles, let the sun kiss my skin. I could hear Val rustling around behind me, probably laying out her towel like a ritual, probably already monologuing to a seagull.

I turned just in time to see her toss a sun-warmed peach into the air and catch it like she was in a commercial for perfect summer evenings.

“Come on,” she called. “You're allowed to be dramatic, but not that dramatic.”

I laughed, and it felt good, loose and warm in my chest. I jogged back up the shore, collapsing beside her and stealing one of her chips.

“Hey!”

“Friend tax.”

We spent the rest of the day sunbathing and taking pictures. As much as I loved photographing F1, I missed taking photos of Val.

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❤️ liked by kimi.antonelli, valentinavlogs, olliebearman, & others

yourusername back home for a little while with @/valentinavlogs 🐚🩵

view comments

valentinavlogs lookin like a couple of baddies

⤷ yourusername girl what are you talking about 😭

user34 I wish this was my life

⤷ user23 don't we all??

kimi.antonelli come back ollie hasn't stopped asking about you

⤷ olliebearman shut up, kimi

❤️ liked by author

user80 will she be at the next race?

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Five Years Ago, ages 13 & 15

It was late.

Too late for the track to still be echoing in his head, but I could see it in the way he sat on the curb- hunched over, hands loose between his knees, helmet abandoned beside him like it’d said something mean. The kart was parked a few feet away, half-loaded onto the trailer, the last stragglers from the paddock already packing up and heading out.

I sat down next to him, not saying anything at first. Just breathed in the warm, dusty air, the scent of engine grease and old asphalt.

He didn’t look at me. Just said, flatly, “I was shit today.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was. I spun out. I missed the apexes. I didn’t listen.” He ran both hands through his hair, frustrated. “Everyone saw it. They always see it. Every mistake, every second too slow-”

“Kimi.”

He kept going like I hadn’t spoken. “And I can’t keep up. Not with the guys the scouts are watching. Not if I keep messing it up every time it counts. Maybe I’m not- maybe I’m not cut out for it.”

“Andrea.” I touched his arm. “Look at me.”

He did, eventually. Eyes bright and wet in the glow from the nearest overhead light, jaw tight with everything he couldn’t say out loud.

“You are not your lap time,” I said gently. “You are not your placing or your telemetry data or how many people are looking at you. You are the kid who listens. Who learns. Who takes everything people throw at him and actually gets better. That’s rare, Kimi.”

He sniffled, quietly. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”

I tilted my head, nudged my shoulder into his. “You want to be perfect. But you don’t need to be. The ones who last? They take the hits, take the lessons, and come back swinging. You already do that.”

He picked at a loose thread on his race suit. “You’re always chasing the perfect picture.”

“SÌ, I am. Everyone is chasing perfection fratellino, but all you can do is attempt to be better than your past self. Learn from your mistakes, give yourself grace, and prepare for the next round.”

He didn’t say anything, so I looked up, out, into the vast stretch of stars overhead, and said, “You know what I think about sometimes?”

He glanced at me. “…What?”

“How lucky it is. That we’re on the same planet. In the same moment in time. Under this same sky.” I gave him a small smile. “Like, out of every possible version of the universe, we ended up in this one. Where I get to know you. Be here with you.”

Kimi blinked. “That’s weirdly comforting.”

I shrugged. “We’re small. But we’re not alone.”

He leaned against me then. Just a little. Not enough to crush me with shoulder pads or helmet hair, but enough that I could feel him start to breathe normally again.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Always,” I whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere, Kimi. And even when I’m not beside you we are still under the same sky, remember?”

He looked up, lips twitching into something soft and tired and real. “Same sky.”

prev • masterpost • next

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is a little fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Don't hesitate to let me know if you prefer the OC to become y/n and/or gender neutral.

Also, I apologize for any mistakes you might find, I'm just a French girl doing her best with Google Translate and her average score of 5 in English classe.

Happy reading!

--> You can find the chapters on my Wattpad account if that's more practical for you.

Summary : We are just after Feyre became Fae and was able to get out from under the mountain. She tries to forget what happened by trying to live happily with Tamlin. Their wedding is also in preparation. Tamlin's spies let him know that Hybern possessed the cauldron and wanted to destroy the wall and that Rhysand was looking for the Book of Breathings to nullify the Cauldron's power. When Feyre learned it, she asked Tamlin and Rhysand to form an alliance. Then, they all find themselves heading to the Archerons' manor to organize a meeting with the human queens.

But Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel would never have thought to meet their mate in Archerons' manor and to share her with their brothers.

Luxiana is Feyre's best friend. She taught her everything, including how to hunt and survive. Luxiana has a complicated past. She seems fragile at first glance but is in fact extremely badass and powerful.

List of chapters :

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Last chapter

Epilogue

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

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 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

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“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[thecreaturecodex]

Pachydermion

"Elephant Warriors" © ArtStation user CY, accessed at their gallery here

[The pachydermions appear in the Basic D&D Creature Catalogue and never again, seemingly memory holed in favor of the loxo from Forgotten Realms. Nowadays, with corporate synergy at an all-time high, the loxodons from Magic the Gathering are the elephant-people most associated with D&D. But I like the pachydermions, partly because they actually have a culture associated with them (you may notice I've complained about that not being the case for a number of these Basic D&D sapients) and partly because the three-weapon style with the trunk is such a cool mental image]

Pachydermion CR 6 LN Monstrous Humanoid This giant humanoid has the head and hide of an elephant. It wears ornate armor and carries three weapons, one in each hand and one in its long, flexible trunk.

Pachydermions are elephant-like humanoids found in warm regions of the world. It is said that a pachydermion never forgets, and while this may not literally be true, they have a deep respect for knowledge and long, detailed memories. Pachydermions never write any of their lore down, keeping it instead in the oral tradition, and storytelling is a common pastime for both entertainment and education. Pachydermion lore may contain secrets thousands of years old, and pachydermions charge a premium price to share their knowledge with members of other species.

Pachydermion culture includes a proud tradition of masonry, and pachydermions tend to live in stone cities in jungle clearings or carved into cliffsides. Living is communal, with all members of the clan sleeping in a central fortification that can be defended if necessary. Outbuildings are used for work or for storage. There is almost always a central pavilion in a pachydermion city, used for martial practice and oration. Pachydermions are herbivorous, and their cities are surrounded by food forests where edible plants are grown in high concentration. Their culture is matrilineal, and male pachydermions typically leave the city of their birth in order to marry into a new clan upon reaching adulthood.

Although they are not typically aggressive, pachydermions fight fiercely to defend their cities. Their long memories also accumulate long grudges, and they have been known to go to war to avenge some slight long forgotten by the other party. Pachydermions have thick hides, but tend to supplement them with metal armor. The trunk of a pachydermion is as strong and flexible as an arm, and they can and do wield weapons with their trunks. A three weapon style, with the trunk being used as the dominant “hand”, is common, and pachydermions prefer to use bludgeoning weapons in their trunks to make the most of their crushing strength. Some pachydermion warriors instead wield a two-handed weapon in both hands and a shield in their trunk, often making use of shield bash techniques to combine offense and defense.

Pachydermions advance by character class. Fighter and monk are common classes, and pachydermion spellcasters are often druids, focusing on the Earth or Plant domains, or psychics, harnessing the depths of the pachydermion mind to greater ends. They have lifespans equivalent to dwarves, with individuals surviving more than 400 years if not slain by violence.

Pachydermion CR 6 XP 2,400 LN Large monstrous humanoid Init +5; Senses low-light vision, Perception +16, scent

Defense AC 20, touch 10, flat-footed 19 (-1 size, +1 Dex, +4 natural, +6 armor) hp 59 (7d10+21) Fort +7, Ref +6, Will +9 (+7 vs. emotion effects)

Offense Speed 30 ft. (40 ft. unarmored) Melee masterwork warhammer +13/+8 (2d6+6/x3) or masterwork warhammer +11/+6 (2d6+6/x3), 2 short swords +10 (1d8+3/19-20) or slam +12 (1d8+6) Ranged masterwork composite longbow +8/+3 (2d6+6/x3)

Statistics Str 22, Dex 13, Con 17, Int 14, Wis 19, Cha 12 Base Atk +7; CMB +14; CMD 25 Feats Alertness, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Multiweapon Fighting Skills Craft (masonry) +10, Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (history, nature) +11, Perception +16, Perform (oratory) +7, Sense Motive +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Knowledge (all) Languages Common, Loxo, Terran SQ martial training, never forgets

Ecology Environment warm forests and grassland Organization solitary, troop (2-6) or clan (4-20 plus 50% noncombatants) Treasure standard (Large breastplate, Large masterwork morningstar, Large masterwork composite longbow [+6 pull], 2 Large short swords, other treasure)

Special Abilities Martial Training (Ex) A pachydermion is proficient in all simple and martial weapons, light and medium armor. Never Forgets (Ex) A pachydermion gains a +4 racial bonus on all Knowledge checks, and can make Knowledge checks untrained. However, a pachydermion suffers a -2 racial penalty on saves versus emotion effects.

[laylasverse]

GAME DAY ✶ 𝓑𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗥

౨ৎ a regular day in my better cr except is a wednesday so it's game day ( high school girls basketball ) and also happens to be a snow day . . .

7:07 AM

i get woken up by my six-month-old kitten screaming in my ear for no reason. milo won’t let me sleep past seven in morning for actual no reason because i feed her at 11 am so it doesn’t even make sense. i usually just kick ( picking her up & move her, not actually kicking her ) her off the bed and go back to sleep.

on normal days i go to school for like two & a half hours because i only need one credit to graduate and i do online college classes. but today was a snow so i didn’t have to go.

10:30 AM

i actually start my day by showering and doing my daily routine, including feeding milo.

today i went to breakfast with my friend kennedy at a small coffee shop. i don’t actually like coffee, or coffee shops, but kennedy loves them so i always go with her when she asks. we always end up talking for hours on end. something about her makes me spill everything to her, ranging from how i hate ap calc to how i think im just playing a good person & not actually one.

we’ve been friends still elementary school so it makes sense how i just tell her everything under the sun.

12:16 PM

after breakfast / lunch i go over to jason’s house. he’s the middle child of a doctor & a engineer so he lives in the richest part of town ( literally all the way across town from my house lol ).

we spend time together doing absolutely anything. he likes to read while i do my puzzles. we might be a fifty-year-old married couple . . . but he keeps puzzles at his house that i do when i go over there. i’m currently working on a peacock feather puzzle on his bedroom floor. i love to watch conan o’brien reruns while i do my puzzles.

3:30 PM

jason has to go to basketball practice. i go back to my house and take a nap before i have to get up and get ready for the game.

6:00 PM

the old government teacher is my school’s announcer for home games. so he does the whole “senior number forty-four, layla mullis!” and i get to do my secret handshake with my favorite junior, my sister kara ( yes, she’s a junior on jv. i took all the ‘good at basketball’ genes ).

jason sits with my mom & stepdad in the stands. my stepdad is like 5’5 so jay literally looks like a giant sitting with them lol. he has to watch as i make literally all my threes but none of my freethrows. i got fouled like two times. i finished with fifteen points and made my best friend, stevie, dunk to beat the clock.

8:30 PM

me, stevie, jason, vinnie ( stevie’s bf ), kara, and carmen ( kara’s gf ) all go out to eat after the game. we went to our favorite mexican restaurant in town. while we were there i knocked over full cup of water. im talking a full glass of ice water. it went everywhere. all over my lap and jason’s jeans. a few ice cubes made it across the table to stevie too.

i might be a little bit clumsy. just a little itsy bit though, trust . . .

9:37 PM

i take my sister’s girlfriend home before actually going home to our house. by the time we got there jason was already upstairs in my room waiting for me. my parents let him stay over pretty often. i mean we’re both eighteen and about to graduate so like. my stepdad had this joke that jay can’t come over if i don’t win my games . . . haha very funny dad. 😐

for the rest of the night after i shower i get to listen to jason yap on and on about the drama he’s heard from his guys. he always has something new to tell me. it’s honestly so entertaining. then he falls asleep on me. he’s just a big breathing teddy bear.

౨ৎ : this was actually so fun to do

IB : this post by @ bkershft

[vintagerpg]

That’s all there is for Role Aids, but plenty of other people made cool stuff for D&D. Like Bard Games. Better know for Atlantis and Talislanta, the company’s first products were a trio of booklets that expanded the roster of existing D&D classes. The first was The Compleat Alchemist (1982, this edition 1983).

This wasn’t the first attempt at an alchemist class. At least two appeared in Dragon Magazine, the first in 1981. I’m sure other attempts exist. This is probably the most exhaustive. It is hampered somewhat by the system neutrality — there weren’t best practices for that sort of thing yet, so the language often feels vague. I also wonder, broadly, why there was such interest in Alchemists as a class when they always seemed a stay at home sort. Still, there is a lot of interesting (if likely overpowered) stuff here.

The book starts off with lists of ingredients and other components, which is a valuable resource on its own. Then you get the level specific abilities, which are…too powerful, though mitigated by time and cost. 1st level, alchemists can brew elixirs, 2nd level they get powders, 3rd is venoms. Things start to get interesting with 4th, when they can make a number of devices, including a rod of detection. Level 5 is talismans, level 6 is potions, 7 is dusts, 8 is solvents, 9 is gases. 10 is essences, which include elixirs of elemental power. Level 11 comes with the ability to create a number of constructs and level 12 allows access to the aqua vitae and the creation of artificial life. I would counsel limiting the number of magical substances an alchemist can create before allowing a player to roll one up, dang.

Still, this is a clever book. The abilities all build on each other, and there is an assumption that the creation of the many magic items is contingent on rare materials which provide the impetus for adventuring. I’ve seen far less reasonable first efforts!

[moltengoldveins]

so we can all agree that the newest 2WEI song (take the crown) is the trailer song for an Antarctic Empires Emerald Duo pg14 movie where Techno is a gladiator who earned his freedom and has vowed to destroy the government that enslaved him and Philza is an old demigod banished to a solitary plane of existence for five decades after attempting to run a coup against the ruling class.

They meet on a battlefield, Techno having joined up as brute muscle and Phil having used some minor illusions to pass as a quirky avian and join the bombardment team. Combining some similar plot beats as Oceans 11 and Atlantis: The Lost Empire, they gather a specialized team of insurrectionists, anarchists, battle mages, and warriors to take down the imperium from the inside, eventually planning on restoring the nation to the democracy it was in Phil’s earliest memories. But will they manage it, or will their bloody pasts and violent present seat Technoblade on the throne as the Antarctic Emperor, with Philza as his right hand, the Angel of Death? (Spoiler, the second option. It’s the most controversial film finale decision of the decade.)

The movie is filmed in a style somewhere between Dune 1, the Prince of Egypt, and Topgun. (denis villeneuve is too busy and too expensive, but it’s clear they’re taking inspiration. Bold colors and lighting and a lot of shots of the sky, wildlife, architecture, or of characters’ hands.) It’s scored by an up and coming indie musician, working under the consultation of Ludwig Gorannson in his spare time as a pet project, though his association with the film doesn’t really come out until it Smashes the expected theatre income in the first two days of release and critics start Raving about it. Techno’s actor is nominated for an Oscar for one of the most compelling intricate portrayals of ptsd and platonic devotion in modern cinema, but doesn’t actually get the Oscar.

Tumblr is flooded with gif sets of Techno in the Obligatory No Armor After Gladiator Fight Scene and the Late Night Vibing With Phil In A Loose Poet Shirt scene (firelit, lots of closeups of his eyes, the film is obviously attempting to express his complex emotional state and his deep relationship with Phil, and is failing miserably at doing Anything but making him hot. The internet is ✨gay✨ about it, because when is the internet not?) Also most of the simps are calling Phil a dilf.

Fit MC is the fan-favorite side character, his four scenes and nine lines of dialogue are clipped and edited and giffed and memed into the dirt. (His armor and prosthetic, the makeup and costuming department say, were the hardest thing to do in the entire film, which is why he isn’t in too many shots.) Though, a close second is Niki, who is played by a woman built like a brick house who doesn’t wear sleeves, so…. Yeah. We all know what the response is there. The effects, including Phil’s wings, are almost entirely practical and the only real places it gets iffy is Steve, the giant war polar bear that’s pretty clearly clipping through a few snowbanks here and there. Nobody can agree on which characters are morally reprehensible.

Within a few years, very few people outside a dedicated fan base have seen it and a few assume it’s made up like Goncharov. It’s also, for some ungodly reason, been labeled a Christmas film. (most of the plot happens in the ice and snow, hence ‘Antarctic Empire.’) I guess nothing says ‘Christmas spirit’ quite like ‘unmitigated violence, platonic yearning, and overthrowing oppressors.’

[teddiee]

Into Each Life: Chapter 11

Summary:

His hands tremble as he holds them in front of himself, and the room suddenly feels too tight. His pulse raises and he’s aware of every set of eyes on him now, including the shrewd glare of his father.

But most of all, he can feel Tiberius’s weighted presence, silent and steady. Tiberius hasn’t even acknowledged him for most of the evening, and yet now, with a simple caress, he’s reminding Tony of his power, of his control.

It’s deliberate, calculated, and that makes it all the more fucking infuriating.

“Sorry,” Tony gasps out. “My, uh. Foot fell asleep.”

Words: 13,112

Tony’s distracted. It’s why he misses so many of the signs.

And true, some hints that were once his most obvious tells are less apparent now. For the past week, he hasn’t given a second thought to pesky nuisances such as the constant throbbing of his scent glands or the ever-present flush of his skin.

The tightness in his lower abdomen feels like a factory setting whenever he’s in the same room as Bucky. And lately, his increased sensitivity seems more like an unexpected perk rather than a human-sized red flag indicating his looming biological crisis.

He’s practically a human slick-factory these days, impending pre-heat or not. What was once a source of shame linked to his deepest gender-specific insecurities has transformed into a nearly constant sensation that Tony has now, weirdly enough, grown quite apathetic to feeling in his underwear.

Sure, he’s done more loads of laundry in the past month than he’s done over the past two years, but it’s worth it to watch the way Bucky transforms when he detects Tony’s arousal. He’ll scrub his drawers and bedsheets in the sink every morning for the rest of his life if it means the Alpha will push out a breathy laugh, slot his thigh in between Tony’s, and croon:

“Oh, you poor thing. Wet for me already, sweetheart?”

Tony doesn’t remember Thursday night’s dream (if there even was one), but he wakes up on his stomach with his sleep shorts rucked down to his thighs. His release coats his belly and his half-hard cock, still fresh, while warm fluid dribbles out of his hole and drenches his cheap cotton sheets in a cocktail of bodily fluids that has his nose wrinkling.

Tony never knows what to make of his scent, usually—cloying, honeyed, and sharp to his own nostrils. Today, it’s practically overwhelming. He turns his head away and releases a low whine.

His lashes are wet, his lips red and bitten raw.

He knows one thing for certain, even while navigating through his post-climax haze—if he has to jerk off with his own hand or grind his mattress to one more half-baked orgasm, he’s going to fucking explode.

He goes through the familiar motions of cleaning himself off, his mind wandering. His muscles ache—he wants to crawl back into bed for the next week.

He sits through class and ignores the dull migraine pounding behind his eyeballs. He ignores the twinge in his jaw. He tries to ignore the—surprisingly aerodynamic—paper airplanes filled with study revisions that Rebecca Barnes launches onto his desk with frightening precision.

“You’re going to fail Home Ec. It’s called a ‘colander’, you dunce. Not a ‘water jail for vegetables’.”

“Leave me alone, wench,” he scribbles back, flicking the paper in her direction. He misses, and it hits Sue-Ann Whitaker—class snob and resident social climber—in the back of the head, one desk away.

The red-haired Omega casts him a glare fierce to melt carbon.

Tony responds by making an impolite gesture with his finger.

“You know, I heard the only reason Stark’s still here is because he got caught messin’ around, and now none of the Alphas want him,” Sue-Ann’s faux-whisper carries to two classmates Tony can’t be bothered to remember the names of. At the front of the classroom, their eighty-five-year-old professor grades papers at her desk, half-deaf and none the wiser. “He was supposed to be bonded off aaaaages ago, but now that all of New York knows he’s loose, no one’ll take him. Not even those Alphas shopping… secondhand.”

The girls snicker.

Tony rolls his eyes. If only he were actually getting any action, maybe he wouldn’t be dry-humping his pillow every night in his sleep.

“I heard that he was sneakin’ around with Rebecca Barnes’s brother. The army boy? My ma says she spotted them at Red Star on Sunday night. You know, that diner off Ellis Street?” Lackey Number One chimes in.

Tony doesn’t snap his pencil in half, but it’s a close thing.

From her own desk, Rebecca freezes.

“The older brother? James Barnes? Oh please, there’s no way,” Sue-Ann sniffs.

“I remember him,” Lack Number Two giggles. “He was here when Becca moved in. God, what a dish.”

The only dish on Tony’s mind is one he can crack over his own head so he won’t have to hear the rest of this conversation.

“They were sitting on the same side of the booth. Sharing a spoon. And—” Lackey Number One glances around conspiratorially. “—kissing.”

Becca shoots him a look, which Tony promptly ignores.

It’s a gross over-exaggeration, anyway. He tried one bite of Bucky’s pie, and the closest they got to any kissing was when Bucky hooked an arm around his neck and childishly licked the whipped cream off his cheek like an overzealous Saint Bernard while Tony sputtered in protest.

They had received several disapproving looks from the surrounding patrons.

Including, clearly, his classmate’s prudish mother.

“Whatever it is, it won’t last,” Sue-Ann declares. She sends another sneer in Tony’s direction. “Stark’s a boy-mega. My father says that his kind basically serve as chew toys for older men. Consolation prizes for disgraced, Alpha has-beens.”

Lovely.

“It’s a shame about the older brother, though,” Lackey Number Two sighs wistfully. “He’s gorgeous—like, a total dreamboat. That smile. I’d probably risk a little social impropriety myself to go to a diner with an Alpha like that.” Both lackeys burst into another round of giggles.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nancy,” Sue-Ann snaps. “He’s poor. The entire family is practically destitute. Have you seen Becca’s uniform? The buttons haven’t matched in six months. There are more patches than any original fabric. I suppose when you can’t afford a new uniform, you have to make do with what’s already falling apart.”

Becca scowls at her desk, her cheeks flushing with color.

“You don’t settle down with Alphas from families like that. My father’s a state representative; I already have offers pouring in from all over the country,” Sue-Ann boasts. “My Alpha’s going to be handsome and influential. I’ve already been corresponding with a boy who’s on his way to becoming a managing director for a private equity firm.”

Tony snorts. Loudly.

The three girls whip around to stare at him.

“Eavesdrop, much?” Sue-Ann hisses.

“Oh no, don’t flatter yourself,” Tony says. He’s carving at his pencil with Jarvis’s old pocketknife, shaping the wood to a fine point. By the end of class, he’ll probably have himself a make-do shiv.

God willing, he can use it to lobotomize himself.

“Just reminiscing on my own propositions. Of course, nothing so ostentatious as the, what was it? ‘Son of a managing director of a something-something-snooze-fest’? Mazel tov to you and your charming future doormat.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sue-Ann seethes. One of the lackey’s lips twitch. ”I mean, we all can’t expect to be so lucky. Last weekend, my sole offer was a pass from some sleazy U.S. Armed Forces Committee chairman.”

Becca bursts into a startled laugh, which she quickly disguises with a strangled cough.

“You’re a filthy liar,” Sue-Ann spits. “My father would never. My mother, God rest her soul, just passed this winter—”

“No, of course, you’re right,” Tony says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He hasn’t even bothered to look up from his shiv-pencil. “Richard, right? Representative Richard Wanker—sorry, Whitaker. Though, I suppose it must have been some other skank’s pervert of a father. New York is just so large, and my dumb, horny boy-mega brain gets all of the influential scumbags confused.”

“You complete WORM!” Sue-Ann cries, slamming her palms down on her desk. Several heads turn in their direction. “My father is an honorable man. He would never demean himself by associating with someone like you.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Your drunken slob of a father asked if I was ‘pure’—which, gross—and then made several observations about my ‘burgeoning wiles’. At this rate, Whitaker, you can expect to be calling me ‘Step-Dad’ by next Christmas.” He glides the pocketknife up the pencil with a satisfying scrape, and tosses in a wink for good measure.

He gets kicked out of Home Ec.

He’s supposed to go to the Headmaster’s office, but that’s always a colossal waste of time for all involved parties. Instead, he slinks back to his dormitory room and sleeps fitfully until it’s time for Jarvis to pick him up.

He wakes up feeling marginally worse, somehow. Groggy and disoriented, he tosses clothes into his duffle bag and splashes his face with cold water, hissing at the hypersensitivity to his pulsating glands.

By the time he’s dragging his feet into his butler’s awaiting chariot, he’s a half-conscious, delirious, shivering mess.

“Don’ feel so good,” he mumbles, tipping over and pressing his face into the cool, leathered interior of the Rolls Royce. “Might be dyin’.”

Jarvis takes one glance at him through the rearview mirror and sighs, long and heavy and audible.

“Oh, Tony. I truly have to commend your knack for somehow managing to escalate every potential disaster. Not to mention your gift for seeking out the most horrendous timing imaginable.”

“Missed you too, buddy,” Tony says into the leather. And then: “Wait, huh?”

“Having your real heat directly after we informed your father about your fake heat isn’t exactly ideal, you know,” Jarvis remarks, tone deceptively light.

Tony’s brain grinds to a halt.

“I’m not—” he pauses. He slaps a hand to his throat. His mating gland pulses so hot he can practically feel it vibrating under his palm. “Oh, my God.”

“Ah, I see you’re just now joining us in the real world. Welcome.”

“Oh my God. What the fuck, J. What the fuck.”

“You have always had a flair for the dramatics; however, I fear I’m missing the punchline to this particular bit.”

“Take me back,” Tony demands. He sits up too fast, and his head spins. He grips the headrest to keep from vomiting onto his shoes. “J, take me back. Turn around. Right now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Jarvis sighs, sounding truly apologetic. “Your father is having guests for dinner, and your presence is expected.”

“Dinner?” Tony wails. He falls onto his back and presses his fists into his eyes. “Howard and his fucking vanity celebrations. Jarvis, I can’t be at dinner. I’ve been in pre-heat since… fucking Christ, since last night. I’ll be fully out of commission in a few hours, max.”

He’s so stupid. He’s so, so stupid.

The signs were right there.

And he was too busy basking in the glow of five-day courtship to notice.

Tony hates spending his heats at The Institute. The designated heat rooms are sterile and impersonal, and after three days Tony feels more like a lunatic locked in a padded cell than anything resembling a sexually satisfied Omega.

But Tony hates spending his heats at home even more, where his father’s disgust and scorn permeate every wall of the Manhattan mansion.

Besides, there’s nothing quite as humbling as sobbing into your childhood pillow with two fingers up your own ass.

“You’ve had a … tumultuous week, I’m sure,” Jarvis says, not unkindly. “I’m sure many factors could have triggered your cycle.”

“Gross, Jarvis. Please never say ‘cycle’ ever again,” Tony moans petulantly. “This is a fucking disaster. Howard’s going to know I was lying. He’s going to know I wasn’t at school. He’s—”

“Relax, Anthony,” Jarvis cuts in. “I can’t smell you, yet. Chances are, your father won’t be able to, either.” Small mercies for Beta noses. “I’ve just become more attuned to your early… tendencies.”

“Flattering,” Tony says dully.

“We’ll get you washed up. We’ll use those scented oils your mother always buys you for Christmas that you pretend not to throw away. Ana keeps spares. You’ll sit opposite the table, as usual. You’ll behave yourself for one dinner, and then you can hide up in your room for the remainder of the weekend. Your father will be none-the-wiser.”

“That’s ambitious,” Tony croaks. His eyes are burning a little. “Who’s coming to dinner?”

“I’m not sure,” Jarvis admits, and Tony’s heart sinks like a rock into the pit of his stomach. “Ana was just told to prepare four extra place settings in addition to yours and your mother’s.”

“Any Alphas will know,” Tony whines. “They’ll smell me.”

“Any mention of Howard Stark’s son’s biological well-being at dinner would be highly inappropriate, I am certain.”

Tony snorts. “Hasn’t stopped any of Howard’s friends before.”

Jarvis sends him an exasperated look. “Bath. Oils. It’s still early. I am confident that you will be fine.”

Tony swallows heavily. His throat burns. “Monday,” he says. “You take me back Monday. Regardless of… it doesn’t matter. It it’s not… over.” He wipes at his eyes. “Monday, I go back to Brooklyn.”

He doesn’t specify The Institute. It’s not what he means.

Somehow, Jarvis knows.

His butler nods. “Monday,” he agrees softly.

Now that Tony knows he’s in pre-heat for certain, the symptoms suffocate him.

Ignorance can indeed be bliss. After all, ignoring his sticky thighs and half-hard cock is manageable when he’s fully aware that a libido gremlin dominates his every waking thought.

But this time, when he tears off his clothes in his ensuite bathroom and is confronted by a familiar, inevitable mess in his underwear, he panics.

The whine that erupts from his vocal cords is shrill and feminine. He sneaks a frenzied look at his reflection—flushed skin, wild eyes, noticeably swollen scent glands—and knows he’s doomed.

He’s cut it too close. His thoughts are mostly lucid, but he can feel the fog creeping in on the outskirts—the familiar haze that makes his mind go a little soft, lets his brain float in and out of that submissive space. The urge to succumb to his body’s cravings is already palpable—last night’s interaction with Bucky outside the school was enough to send him dropping, and that was almost twenty-four hours ago.

He rakes a hand over his face and resists the urge to scream.

When he dunks his head under the bath water, he briefly contemplates drowning himself.

He scrubs at his overly sensitive skin. He washes away the evidence of the past week with scent-neutralizing soap. He rubs floral-smelling oils into his glands and even spritzes down his underwear, though the sensation immediately makes him physically recoil. His body only craves one scent, and it’s certainly not the artificial aroma of his mother’s expensive jasmine perfume.

He tucks his non-cooperating prick into the waistband of his pants and prays to a foreign deity that tonight’s predictably dull conversation is enough to suppress his arousal and keep his body in check.

He refuses to focus on the sliver of dread that curls in the pit of his stomach. The distant recognition that this pre-heat feels so much more intense—is already taking a heavier toll on his body—than any heats previously.

That he’s craving the presence of a certain Alpha so deeply, it feels all-consuming. He can already feel his desire for Bucky taking root inside his body, echoing within his bones.

“I need a drink,” Tony announces, pushing into the kitchen ten minutes later. The fabric of his suit scratches at his skin with an intensity that makes him want to pluck his eyes out. “Vodka, whiskey, lighter fluid. Anything.”

Ana opens a hidden cabinet, and moments later, a bottle of Old Crow is thrust into his hands.

“Bourbon works,” Tony croaks, swigging the cheap liquor straight from the bottle. He relishes the burn. It distracts him from the burning in his own veins.

“You look terrible, Antal.”

“Thank you, I’m fully aware.” Tony waves the bottle of bourbon for emphasis. “S’why we have to blame it on me getting… er… how do you say ‘drunk as swine’ in Hungarian?” He takes another large gulp before the bottle is yanked from his lips. He frowns. “Heyyyy.”

“If you’re wasted at dinner, I’m the one who will have to hear about it from your mother,” Ana chastises. The Beta presses a palm to his forehead, causing Tony to hiss and flinch away. “You’re too warm.”

“Noted,” Tony says. He reaches for the bourbon, but Ana holds it out of his grasp. “Who’s all here?”

“Your father is entertaining his guests in the billiards room. A group that I recognize from the last dinner. The officer, the Omega woman. That funny-looking German.”

Dr. Abraham Erskine.

Tony curses.

Suddenly, it becomes glaringly clear why he’s being forced to attend supper.

No one revels in a power play like Howard Stark. By forcing Tony to share a meal and engage in social niceties with the man who once attempted to enlist him in some secret scientific war effort—without Howard’s consent, to boot—his father sends a clear message to both: he’s still the one in control.

Heaven forbid Tony have a pipe dream.

“Jarvis said there were four extra place settings,” Tony presses.

Ana rolls her lips, returning to her kitchen station.

“Mr. Stone will be joining a bit later. Dinner is at eight; you can stay if you don’t make yourself useless. Come, finish the silverware for me.”

Tony doesn’t move.

“Tiberius is coming?” His voice pushes out as a strangled rasp.

Tony can’t remember Tiberius ever attending a family dinner.

“He… insisted,” Ana says delicately.

Tony stares blankly at the wall behind the stove.

“Oh,” he says, because if he says anything more he’ll definitely throw up.

Ana touches his elbow. The contact startles him.

“We’ll seat him at the opposite end of the table. Near your father,” she says carefully. “He won’t know.”

“He’ll know,” Tony replies numbly. He blinks away from the wall and stares at his family’s cook.   “He… I’m not sure what he’ll do about it. But he’ll know.”

Ironically, the only one who appears oblivious to the situation is Howard.

Tony’s mother blinks at him.

“You look nice, dear,” she says in that typical absent way of hers. But her eyes, usually distant and unfocused, trail from his throat to his face, and for a brief, startling moment, Tony detects a flash of clarity. His Omega mother’s nostrils twitch, almost imperceptibly, and she reaches for his arm. Her fingers tighten around his sleeve. “Jasmine, right?”

Tony nods mutely.

She smiles. “Lovely.”

The dour Alpha—Colonel Phillips—regards Tony with a look of such pure bewilderment, Tony would probably find it amusing if he weren't vibrating with panic. He sits on the far end of the table from Tony and avoids eye contact.

‘No one will notice’, my ass, Tony thinks petulantly.

The British Omega woman, Agent Carter, quickly schools her expression and shakes Tony’s hand, but not before sending a fleeting sidelong glance at Dr. Erskine.

The German doctor simply smiles at Tony. Tony ignores him.

He sits beside his mother while the group crowds around Howard at the opposite end of the table and resists the urge to bury his head in his arms.

As far as humiliation rituals go, he has to admit that a group of strangers sniffing out his impending heat ranks pretty high up there.

“Just waiting on one more,” Howard assures them, grinning like a shark. “My business partner. Running a little later, should be here any minute. Don’t be shy, dig in. Miss Carter, more wine?”

“Agent,” the Omega says primly. “And no, thank you.”

The seat next to Howard’s is empty, and suddenly doesn’t feel far enough away.

“Tony,” his mother says quietly. Her voice doesn’t carry past the two of them. “Are you feeling alright, dear? You look quite peaky.”

“Swell, Ma,” he remarks. He swirls his soup with the spoon but can’t seem to bring it to his mouth. “Just tired.”

“Still… recovering?” She asks. “From last weekend, I mean.”

Tony’s spoon ceases its movements.

“Yes,” he says through his teeth. “Still recovering. Can we change the subject, maybe?”

He plays with his soup more than he manages to eat it, and his mother won’t stop casting him these frantic, worried glances, but miraculously, he somehow manages to survive the first course while preserving his dignity. Until:

“Sorry I’m late, everyone.”

Tony’s fork clatters to his plate.

Tiberius Stone sweeps the room, his presence immediately consuming the space like wildfire smoke—suffocating and inescapable.

Tony grits his teeth and holds his breath to avoid choking on it.

“Ty!” Howard exclaims. “The chair is all yours, my friend. Grab a seat.” He gestures to the vacant spot on his right.

A king and his regent.

But Tiberius isn’t looking at Howard. His ice-blue eyes are locked onto the Omega at the opposite end of the table, flushed and petrified and furious and trying desperately to conceal his emotional turmoil from escaping through his scent like a guiding torch.

For a brief moment, Tony’s own gaze flits to Stone’s, revealing a fleeting glimpse of something dark and predatory, only to be swiftly replaced by a facade of practiced neutrality.

The entire interaction lasts mere seconds, if that, but it feels like a lifetime. The Alpha’s nostrils expand, and Tony knows; he knows that Tiberius can smell him, even through the oils and the perfumes and the bullshit.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Tiberius chuckles with a good-natured wave of his hand. “I’m merely here to observe. Howard’s the pro at handling negotiations; I just sign the papers.”

The table laughs, Howard preens, and Tony watches with a dry mouth as Tiberius plucks the chair from next to Howard and stalks toward Tony’s end of the table.

“I’d rather not interrupt. Lord knows I frequently have Howard’s ear. You all can catch me up after dinner,” Tiberius offers. He pushes his chair next to Tony’s left. “Anthony, do you mind terribly?”

Tony gapes. The rest of the table goes silent.

Publicly, Tony doesn’t associate with Alphas. Not without a chaperone.

He hardly interacts with them. He doesn’t really speak to them. He certainly doesn’t sit directly next to them at his father’s dinner table.

As far as his parents are concerned, these are the first words Tiberius Stone has uttered directly to Tony since he presented.

His mother clears her throat. “I don’t think—”

“Can’t promise you’ll have as much fun on that side as down here,” Howard teases, signaling a servant for more wine. The rosy spots on his cheeks indicate he’s becoming healthily tipsy. “My son never did know when to keep his trap shut. But hey, pal, it's your funeral.”

“Howard, I’m not sure—”

“More wine, Phillips?”

And that’s that.

Tiberius presses in next to Tony, and when his shoulder brushes against the Omega’s, Tony drags his chair closer to his mother’s.

“Missus Stark. Tony.” Tiberius’s gaze flashes to both of the Starks. “You both look lovely.”

Maria smiles amicably. “Tiberius. So pleased you could join us.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Tony stares down at his placemat with a fixed, burning intensity and wills himself to ignore the looming presence of the Alpha just a few feet away.

His grip on his autonomy is already slipping with every inhalation of Tiberius’s encompassing, obnoxious pheromones, and Tony loathes the way his body betrays him.

The Alpha’s scent is everywhere—thick, invasive, clinging to his skin like it’s soaked into his very being. It’s overpoweringly earthy, like soil churned up by a storm, and beneath it lingers the faint metallic tang of iron, sharp and jarring, scraping against his senses. It slams into Tony like a tidal wave, raw and unrelenting, and he can’t stop how his pre-heat body responds, no matter how hard he tries to suppress his own primal instincts.

His subconscious doesn’t care that this scent feels wrong, that it grates against every rational part of him. His heat only cares that it’s Alpha, strong and undeniable, and it twists through him like a cruel mockery of what he truly needs.

He grips his fork with enough force to dent the sterling silver, the tension coiling through his body leaving his limbs feeling tauter than a bowstring.

Tiberius takes a sip of wine, and Tony avoids staring at the translucent, vampiric expanse of his throat.

“Maria,” the Alpha says. His voice is deep and controlled. Tony shivers. “Howard tells me you’re in charge of hosting the upcoming charity luncheon?”

“Oh, yes,” Maria replies pleasantly. “For the children. Education and care for those orphaned by the war. It’s going to be the event of the season.”

Tony takes his knife and stabs at his steak, pretending it's Tiberius’s head.

“I’m sure it will be simply dashing,” Tiberius says, and Tony’s mother beams.

Tony sends a long, resigned look toward the ceiling.

Tiberius prattles on with his mother over his head. They discuss luncheons and garden clubs, the latest opera, Maria’s bridge party. Tony chews his food without tasting it and challenges himself to hold his breath for dizzying expanses of time.

Lightheaded and feverish, he almost misses the brush of the Alpha’s finger against his thigh.

Tony’s breath hitches. It’s a ghost of a touch—Tony’s distracted, and the sensation is so light, so subtle that with anyone else, Tony might question whether he simply imagined it.

But then it happens again.

Tiberius’s hand, warm and insistent, slides across his thigh under the dinner table, and the sensation feels like an electric shock to his nerves. For a split second, he’s utterly paralyzed.

And then, without thinking, his legs snap away from the table, jerking him out of his seat with a sharp, involuntary motion. His plate clatters to the floor.

The sudden movement catches the small group’s attention, the quiet hum of conversation faltering as Tony’s chair scrapes harshly against the floor. He’s standing now, face flushed with mortification and the rush of blood in his ears, his eyes darting around in a blur as he tries to compose himself.

His hands tremble as he holds them in front of himself, and the room suddenly feels too tight. His pulse raises and he’s aware of every set of eyes on him now, including the shrewd glare of his father.

But most of all, he can feel Tiberius’s weighted presence, silent and steady. Tiberius hasn’t even acknowledged him for most of the evening, and yet now, with a simple caress, he’s reminding Tony of his power, of his control.

It’s deliberate, calculated, and that makes it all the more fucking infuriating.

“Sorry,” Tony gasps out. “My, uh. Foot fell asleep.”

Tony wants to carve the rotten smirk off Tiberius’s face with his steak knife.

“Sit down, boy,” Howard orders. He snaps his fingers towards Tony’s mess of dishes. “Clean that up,” he directs sharply toward a member of his staff.

“I’ve got it,” Tony says numbly, dropping to his knees. Desperately looking for an excuse to escape back into the kitchens.

“Don’t be absurd; get back in your seat,” Howard hisses. “Now.”

Tony’s throat constricts. Tiberius’s pheromones are an electric crackle in the room’s dense ozone; an oppressive humidity that the Alpha does little to conceal.

It’s a game, Tony realizes, and he’s the prey.

“Apologies, everyone,” Tony rasps. He sinks back into his chair, feeling ill with trepidation, angling towards Maria until their knees are practically touching.

Tiberius is still watching him, his stare heavy and knowing, the silent challenge hanging between them.

His mother’s hand reaches out to feel his forehead, and Tony cringes away.

Why do people keep touching his fucking forehead?

“Anthony,” she gasps. “You’re burning up.”

Tony bats her hand away.

“M’fine.”

He is so not fine.

Tiberius’s presence is a plague. Every moment that passes, the Alpha’s own arousal—subtle, contained, but unmistakable—becomes more palpable, and Tony knows with dreadful certainty that his impending heat is the thing that’s drawn it out.

And Tiberius is letting his pheromones linger, just enough to make Tony’s skin prickle with discomfort. Reminding him that the storm in the air is real, and it’s closing in.

Because the sick bastard knows exactly what he’s doing—knows that the heat pulsing through Tony’s body is a weakness he can exploit without ever having to look at him.

When the Alpha’s foot grazes his leg during dessert, it takes every modicum of Tony’s self-control not to fling his spoonful of pudding at Dr. Erskine sitting across from him.

It’s not until dishes are cleared and coffee is poured and Tiberius deliberately squeezes Tony’s kneecap with deft fingertips, forcing a gush of slick to pour into his underwear, that the Alpha’s intentions swell like a symphony.

Tony spills burning liquid all over the tablecloth and wretches away from the table for the second time, chest heaving. His lungs on fire and his disposition murderous.

“Excuse my son,” Howard grits out. Tony can hardly hear him through the dull pounding in his ears. “Table manners have never been his strong suit. He’s acting like a—”

“Bitch in heat?” Tiberius interjects mildly.

Tiberius is wide-eyed and contrite. His palms are raised in defense.

“My sincerest apologies, truly. That was distasteful of me—I assumed everyone was aware.”

Tony doesn’t bother to stick around for a scandalized response because he’s already ripping himself from the table and barrelling into the kitchen with some excuse about helping Ana with the dishes.

He barely registers his feet moving, his body acting on autopilot as he bolts from the dining room. His vision blurs at the edges and his pulse roars in his ears, fingers trembling as he rips at the tie at his throat. By the time he shoves into the kitchen he’s shaking all over, slamming against the door as it shuts behind him.

His legs finally give out entirely and he slides down to the floor, his head dropping back against the wall as his chest heaves in shallow, rapid breaths. The coolness of the tile beneath him does little to soothe the feverish heat rolling off his skin. His fingers dig into his thighs as he tries to suppress the wave of shame and anger threatening to swallow him whole. He clenches his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension as he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the sensation to pass, willing himself to breathe.

The kitchen staff stares at him, bewildered.

“Antal?”

Tony blinks up at Ana, vision bleary.

The cook sinks down to her knees, pressing her palms to his face. Stabilizing his lolling head.

“Howard knows,” Tony says dully.

His mother bursts into the kitchen. Tony winces at the intrusion, the slamming of the door jarring to his heightened senses.

Maria takes in the sight of her son—an undignified, crumpled heap on the floor—and straightens her back.

“Ana,” she says calmly. “Our guests would like more coffee.”

Ana hesitates. Her hands are still pressed to Tony’s cheeks.

Tony pats her wrist. I’m okay.

He’s not, but.

The show must go on.

Ana’s reluctance is palpable, but she pulls away. Slowly, the rest of the kitchen staff trickles out of the room as well.

Tony ignores his mother. He stares at his slacks and wills her to disappear.

She doesn’t.

“Your father is… confused,” she says instead, after a heavy beat of silence. Her voice is collected, her posture perfectly composed. Tony kind of resents her.

He says nothing.

“He was under the impression that you experienced a heat last weekend. That’s what Jarvis informed us: why you spent the weekend away from home. At The Institute.”

Again, Tony says nothing. He just sits there—shaking and raw. His fingers curl into fists against his thighs.

His distress leaks from his ears, but still, he keeps his mouth shut.

Maria sighs. “Tony,” she says carefully, like she’s speaking to a spooked, foreign animal and not her teenage son. “About Tiberius—”

“Tony!” Howard’s voice cracks like a whip. His father storms into the kitchen, reeking of fury and wine. “You.” He points to Tony on the floor. “Get up. Now.”

“Howard,” Maria says, tone placating. She places her hands on her husband’s bicep. “Let’s just try and be rational about this; I’m certain there is a perfectly reasonable explanation—”

“Our son can’t even sit through a simple dinner without embarrassing us. Do you have any idea what this looks like for me? I’ve been trying to iron out a private contract with the United States military for months. But you just have to make everything about you, don’t you, Tony?” Howard laughs, abrasive and sardonic, and Tony turns and presses his cheek into the wall. He screws his eyes shut and tries to ignore the way he’s already losing the grounding he has on his mind, the edges of his brain turning soft and weak.

“He’s in heat, Howard,” Maria mollifies. “He can’t help the way—”

“He’s always in fucking heat. We have a son who can’t keep it in his fucking pants. This is getting ridiculous. You’ve been trying to push off his bonding, and I’ve listened, I’ve been reasonable. But enough is enough, Maria.”

“If I may,” interjects a fourth voice.

Tiberius pushes past the kitchen door, cool gaze darting to Tony’s position on the floor before flickering to Tony’s parents. “I beg you pardon, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I simply came to apologize. But I believe I may have some sort of… logical explanation, for your son’s predicament.”

Tiberius’s argument for Tony’s second heat justifies the existence of his last, nonexistent heat— which Tony is certain Tiberius knows never actually occurred.

He listens with growing dread.

“Tony is an unmated Omega. His cycles aren’t regulated yet and won’t be until he’s fully bonded. It’s not uncommon for unbonded Omegas to respond dramatically to… external stimuli.”

Howard gives Tony a withering look. “External stimuli?”

“It is my belief that Tony is suffering a re-bound heat. His biological impulses are most likely still sensitive from last weekend’s heat. Omega cycles are unpredictable; no one knows for certain how long it takes for the hormones to flush out of the system. If an Omega were to encounter, say, a biologically compatible Alpha so soon after a heat cycle, with an increased amount of heightened hormones still coursing through their body, well. It’s fully likely that this interaction could trigger another heat.”

Tony feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

He gapes at Tiberius in horror.

“Are you saying…” Howard’s brow furrows as he stares at his trusted advisor. “That your ‘biological compatibility’ with my son triggered a re-bound heat?”

Tiberius holds his hands out, shrugging his shoulders modestly. “It’s just a theory. I sensed something at dinner—you know, Howard, that my interactions with your son up until this point have been limited. I had no way of knowing prior… but, well.” He flashes his boss a grim smile. “I would be lying if I didn’t say that our close proximity tonight didn’t create a sense of intrigue. Omegas are fascinating, delicate creatures; like most Alphas, I feel a certain draw to them at a base level. I’ve heard rumors of a stronger sort of connection… one that transcends biology. If my instincts are correct, I am quite certain that our—affinity, if you will, very well could have been the factor that rekindled your son’s heat.”

The silence that follows is stretched. Endless.

Tony can’t move. His mind reels, a chaotic tangle of rage and realization as Tiberius’s words sink in like slow-moving poison.

The audacity, the sheer nerve of this man, to stand there so calm, so nonchalant, weaving this fabricated explanation while Tony’s entire world threatens to shatter around him.

Howard’s expression shifts, his frown deepening into something sharp and contemplative. “Rebound heat,” he says flatly, his gaze snapping to Tony. “Because of you?”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, to say something, anything, to deny it, but no sound comes out. His throat is dry, his tongue heavy, his pulse pounding too loud in his ears for him to string together a coherent thought.

Tiberius, the raging lunatic, has the audacity to look almost apologetic. “As I said, it’s just a theory. But if true, it would explain a great deal.” His pale eyes flicker to Howard. “Sir, this could even be seen as… fortuitous. A compatibility this strong is exceedingly rare. It could suggest—”

“Enough.” Howard’s glare pins Tony in place. “Well?”

Tony feels his throat tighten, the words of protest clawing at his tongue but refusing to emerge. If he denies it—if he even so much as hints at the truth—then Jarvis’s carefully constructed alibi crumbles, and Ana’s involvement comes under scrutiny. Both had lied for him, bent over backward to give him the freedom he so desperately needed, and now…

Now, Tiberius had him trapped, right where he wanted him.

“I… I don’t know,” he forces out, the words bitter and foreign on his tongue. “It’s been a strange week. Lots of Alphas at the gala.” The glare he sends in Tiberius’s direction is laser-sharp, pointed enough with the intent to melt the Alpha’s brain behind his skull. “Pretty sure I would respond the same way to a little heavy petting from the mailman.”

“Regardless,” Tiberius’s voice is suave, measured, the very picture of a benevolent Alpha with the best intentions. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Howard. Compatibility at this level could even be considered an advantage.”

Howard barks out a laugh, crossing his arms. “You think this is an advantage?”

“In the right context,” Tiberius says smoothly, “yes. A bond with an Alpha whose instincts align so strongly with Tony’s could stabilize his cycles, perhaps even regulate them more efficiently. Of course, I wouldn’t presume—”

“Please, Christ, no more presumptions,” Tony butts in, finally meeting Tiberius’s infuriatingly calm gaze. “Haven’t you already prattled on about this being ‘just a theory’?”

Tiberius’s lips twitch, holding back a smirk. “Of course,” he says mildly. “I only meant to offer some insight. I’ll take my leave, if that’s what you wish.”

Howard grunts. “You’ve done enough. Go.”

Tiberius dips his head slightly, gazes at Tony with something carnivorous in his icy expression, then turns on his heel, striding out of the kitchen as though the entire situation had been nothing but a minor inconvenience.

The oppressive silence returns. Maria hovers nearby, her expression unreadable, while Howard continues to glare at Tony as though he were a bug squashed on his windshield.

“Well?” Howard snaps. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, willing himself to stay silent. He can’t risk saying the wrong thing, can’t risk making this godawful situation worse. So he shakes his head, lowering his gaze to the floor.

Howard made a disgusted sound. “Unbelievable. If this gets out—”

“Howard,” Maria said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Enough.”

Tony risks a glance at her. Whatever passes through her eyes is fleeting, and her usual composure returns quickly as she turns to him. “Go to your room, Tony,” she says softly. “We’ll handle the guests.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With shaking hands, he pushes past them and out of the kitchen, his steps wobbly as he makes his way toward the relative safety of the upstairs wing.

And as he climbs the stairs, his stomach twists with the sickening realization that Tiberius had just tightened his grip on the strings, leaving Tony to play the part of the obedient puppet

“Telephone,” Tony says numbly. “Need the telephone.”

Jarvis pushes the device into his hand, and Tony dials the number he memorized by heart the moment Bucky tucked the slip of paper into his palm, seven digits scribbled in hasty black ink.

He sinks to the floor of the Jarvis’s private quarters, cradling the telephone in his ear, and pulls his tie and suit jacket off. Unbuttons his shirt to his sternum. Presses his forehead against the wood of the desk and instructs the operator to connect him to the one person who might keep him from completely falling apart.

The phone rings. The receiver clicks. And then:

“Hello?”

Tony’s lower lip wobbles.

“Hiya, Rogers.”

“Tony!” His friend sounds relieved. “Buck said you were gonna call. It was getting a little late; I figured—” Tony hears faint rustling in the background, and then Steve’s voice away from the receiver, “Yeah, it’s him. Hold on, just—hold on.”

Tony clutches the telephone between his sweaty palms like a lifeline. Ana and Jarvis bustle around the apartment, stealing stealthy glances, pretending not to eavesdrop.

Tony hears more rustling, followed by Steve yelping, “Ow, Barnes, Jesus. Fine, Christ, take it—just, tell ‘im I said goodnight.” A little louder: “Goodnight, Tony!”

“Tony?”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, the sound probably audible through the receiver.

He swipes at his eyes.

“Tony? You there?”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks. “Yeah, hi, I’m here.”

Tony hears the rush of Bucky’s exhale, and it’s the loveliest sound he’s heard all damn night. It cracks his splintered heart in half.

“Tony,” Bucky sighs. “Hi, darlin’. It’s getting late, didn’t think you were gonna call.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry. Got stuck at dinner.”

“No, hey, don’t apologize. I’m real glad you did.” He sounds like he means it, too, and Tony wants to cry.

Because two sentences from Bucky is enough to release that ugly, hateful feeling clenching in his chest. A quiet sense of rightness floods him, momentarily, replacing the noise and the confusion with something simpler, purer. The chaos in his head quiets.

The memory of Tiberius’s touch still burns on his skin. The way his body had responded to the Alpha’s presence—it was purely primal, a biological pull. Something out of Tony’s control.

But the way he feels when he’s surrounded by Bucky Barnes—even miles away, through the fragile connection of a telephone—is something sound. Sure.

A connection beyond hormones or heat or anything fleeting.

Even at a distance, even with nothing but memories to accompany him, he feels it—an anchor, a tether that keeps him from spinning out of control. Because with Bucky he knows, without a doubt, that something exists beyond the biology. Even if he can’t put a name to it, Tony recognizes a kernel of belonging that no amount of chemical attraction or external influence can replicate.

And that quiet epiphany after a night of shame and fucking chaos—that nothing had ever compared to the physical, mental, or emotional connection he shares with this Alpha—is relief unlike anything he’s ever known.

“Are you okay, Tony?”

Tony blinks up at the ceiling. His head feels foggy.

“Bucky?” He says.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be mad,” he begs.

A soft sigh through the phone. Tony wishes he were here.

“Could never be mad. Not at you.”

And God, if Tony isn’t already dreading the day Bucky will inevitably stop feeling that way.

“I’m going into heat,” he whispers.

Bucky’s lungs hitch audibly through the telephone, and Tony is pretty sure the Alpha stops breathing.

“You’re—” Bucky clears his throat. Tony pictures him running a hand through his hair, like he does whenever he’s anxious. “You’re in heat?”

“Going into heat,” Tony says miserably. “I’m in pre-heat. Have been since… last night, probably. It’ll probably hit full force tonight; it’s getting worse. I—” he licks his lips, chapped and bitten. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I usually notice. Everything’s been, uh. Different.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long time. Tony’s almost worried that he’s hung up. Until:

“Sweetheart,” the Alpha rumbles, low and steady. Tony rolls his forehead against the desk leg and suppresses his whimper. “Oh, Tony. I knew… fuck, I knew something was off. You smelled so—” Tony can practically hear Bucky gritting his teeth. “But you always smell so fuckin’ sweet. I should have—” The Alpha bites out another curse. Tony squeezes his legs together.

“Come home.”

Home. Tony shivers.

“I can’t,” Tony groans. “My parents know. It’s a long story. Everything’s a mess. But I’m stuck here for the weekend.”

Bucky makes a noise of protest, something deep and primal, and Tony realizes that it’s probably not too long before he’s staining his butler’s floor with the evidence of his arousal.

“You should be here. Damn it. I don’t like the idea of you all alone in that house.”

Tony lolls his head backward. Croaks out a laugh.

“Yeah, well. You and me both, pal.” He doesn’t inform Bucky that he’s absolutely certain that this heat, in particular, is going to rock him.

His heats are always miserable and unsatisfying; however, this time, he has to contend with hormones are already a fucking mess due to his body’s very specific Bucky-Barnes-shaped-cravings.

Not to mention Tiberius’s wildly unnecessary interference.

The crash is going to be catastrophic, no doubt.

“When can you leave?” Bucky’s voice is gravelly, and it’s doing little to help reign in Tony’s already fleeting self-control.

“Jarvis already promised to take me back Monday. But I—my heats are always three days, at least. Sometimes four.” Not to mention Tony’s convenient susceptibility to post-heat sickness.

“Monday,” Bucky repeats. “Monday, you come back to me.”

Tony shudders.

“M’gonna be a mess, still. The worst of it’ll be over, but there will be, ah. After-effects.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

Tony’s face flushes, and he cups his hand over the receiver to give himself more privacy from the Jarvis’s prying ears.

“You don’t…” Tony’s tongue feels thick in his mouth. “I know we haven’t really talked. About that. I’m not expecting, uh, anything. I wouldn’t expect you to…” He trails off pathetically, cheeks flaming.

Bucky makes a noise into the phone, rich and throaty, and Tony’s toes curl in his socks.

“M’not gonna fuck you yet, gorgeous. Need you clearheaded for that. When you—fuck—when I get you coming on my cock for the first time, you’re going to be lucid.” Bucky’s voice is gravel and grit.

The sound that comes out of Tony’s lungs is an undignified moan. His own cock stirs in his trousers, and he draws his knees to his chest.

“Know this heat is gonna hurt, sweet thing. God, I’d do anything to be there with you. I’d kill a man to come take care of you.” Bucky’s delivery drops several octaves, sending reverberations that vibrate through Tony’s ribs. “Know you’d be so perfect, so sweet for me. Such a good boy for your Alpha, right, baby?”

Oh.

Your Alpha.

Tony bites down on the fleshy part of his palm and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels himself slipping, fast.

“Uh-huh,” he says instead.

“My beautiful, sweet boy. My perfect Omega. Just a few days, doll. Ride it out for a few days, and then you’re all mine.”

“S’not good,” Tony slurs uselessly. “By myself. After a while, can’t even…” He’s not usually able to make himself come anymore after he hits the height of his heat, on day two. Just writhes out the remainder in over-stimulated agony. He can’t reach the spot inside himself that his body craves, can’t simulate the pressure that he needs to crest that peak.

Bucky makes a wounded noise over the phone. “I’ve got you, pretty. I’ll take care of you. Make you feel so, so good.” Tony doesn’t whine, but it’s a close fucking thing. “I’ll take away all the hurt, sweetheart. Feels so good when I get my hands on you, my mouth on you, doesn’t it? When I kiss you nice and right, get you all sweet for me.” Bucky’s croon through the telephone is borderline obscene and just what Tony needs, making him feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re such a good boy for me, Tony. Always so good for me. Come home, and I’ll show you have fucking lucky I am to have you. My sweet, perfect boy.”

And Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s doing, really. Washing away the sins of Ty, replacing the acrid pheromones in Tony’s nostrils with something familiar, something trusted and sacred.

Dropping him right into his heat in a way that feels safe, cocooned.

“Promise?” Tony whispers.

“Promise, baby,” Bucky says back, hushed like a vow. “Think you’ll be able to call back tomorrow? Check in?”

“Prob’ly not,” Tony admits. “Can have Jarvis call you.”

“That’d be great. So thoughtful of you, honey,” Bucky praises, and Tony sighs.

“Miss you,” Tony says, voice wobbly.

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath over the telephone. “I miss you more, sweetheart. Thank you for calling. Are you gonna be okay?”

Tony’s mind drifts to Ty. He pushes that thought out just as quickly as it creeps in. “Maybe. Probably. Dunno. Hate it.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Hate this.”

Bucky lets out a strained laugh. His tone, when he speaks, offers no room for argument.

“Next heat, Tony, you’re with me.”

It is, predictably, the worst weekend of Tony’s life.

His heat rips through him like a raw hunger, tearing him apart from the inside.

He hardly has time to drag himself out of his second bath of the night (scrubbing the artificial oils and perfumes out of his glands) before he’s crawling into bed, naked and sobbing, hand wrapped around his weeping dick and wringing himself to the first of several wholly unsatisfying orgasms.

There’s nothing to extinguish the fire coiling through his veins, nothing to stop the relentless cramping in his abdomen. His desire is punishment, and he spends the next three nights in a delirious, frustrated state of constant over-stimulation, chasing a non-existent release. It doesn’t matter how many times he comes—by Sunday night, his cock is red and practically hot to the touch, too sensitive for his own hand anymore.

His fingers are no use, either; he can’t replicate that sense of fullness that his body demands.

Every time his heat hits, he almost understands why so many young Omegas get bonded off as soon as they present. The agony of suffering through his heat alone is so awful, so excruciatingly unbearable, that Tony knows he would have surrendered to Tiberius and his earthy, metallic pheromones by the second day if only to extinguish the flames temporarily.

The treacherous thought only adds to his overall misery.

He spends Saturday and Sunday in an incoherent, feverish daze, spilling bodily fluids all over his sheets and crying out for his Alpha into an empty room. Tony can’t stop Bucky’s name from tumbling past his lips like a drunken, agonized prayer, and when Jarvis half-carries him into the bathtub on Monday morning, he’s sore, raw, and shivering.

“This never becomes less humiliating,” Tony grumbles, swatting away his butler’s hands so he can scrub his own hair. His aching limbs scream in protest. A vast, empty chasm is starting to form in his chest—a deep, gaping void of loneliness that always looms during Tony’s more difficult drops.

If he starts fixating on it, the pressure becomes enough to restrict his breathing.

“I helped change your diapers,” Jarvis reminds him conversationally.

“Must we bring this up, every time you see my ticker?”

Jarvis drives him back to Brooklyn late Monday afternoon—after Tony washes up, eats as much of a sandwich as he can stomach, and sleeps fitfully until his father leaves for a work trip to some army base in New Jersey.

The worst of it is over—that’s to say, he’s no longer grinding into his come-soaked mattress for the umpteenth time, two fingers pumping into his ass, teeth tearing holes into his pillowcase—but he’s still in heat. On the downswing, mostly, and he hasn’t been able to touch his cock without hissing since Sunday afternoon, but the urgency no longer feels as ‘life-or-death’, so it’s a small victory.

His lower abdomen still clenches and cramps like a motherfucker, though, and he’s still daydreaming about the sweet, glorious, mouthwatering relief of an Alpha’s knot in a way that is probably devastating to Omegan suffragists and the feminist scholars whose journals he likes to sneak from the prohibited shelves of his school’s library.

When Jarvis finally pulls up to the Brooklyn side street, Tony practically falls out of the car in his urgency to reunite with people whose scents don’t turn his stomach. He bids his loyal butler adieu, trips up the rusty fire escape, and crawls through the familiar fourth-floor window Bucky promised to leave open for him, practically keeling over when he’s greeted with the glorious, familiar concoction of

Wintercedarfirewoodturpentineoilpaintsnowfallcharcoal.

His foot catches on the windowsill. Lacking any proper balance or strength, he tumbles gracelessly to the floor, landing flat on his back with his limbs sprawled.

Tony’s heart beats an erratic cadence against his ribs as he sucks in pheromones and blinks at the ceiling.

He inhales Steve. He inhales Bucky.

And that’s where Steve finds him, collapsed on the Alpha’s kitchen floor, releasing a syrupy warble of a moan that has his friend blushing up his ears.

“You made it," Steve observes, carefully diplomatic for a man who purposefully keeps several feet of distance as he regards Tony with a slight, shocked stupor.

“You know me and my grand entrances,” Tony croaks back at the ceiling. “Bucky left the window open. We felt it was best not to alert the neighbors of my current, ah, disposition.”

Tony can tell when Steve scents the air because the Alpha’s pheromones immediately swell into the space between them in a way that sends his weakened pulse hammering.

Steve’s pupils visibly dilate, and his blush heightens, but he doesn’t show any other indication that Tony’s heat is affecting him. Instead, he peers down at the Omega on his floor, and asks, “Are you hungry?”

Tony is not hungry.

Not for food, anyway.

But Steve coaxes him up with careful, platonic touches and helps him to the kitchen table. He regards Tony attentively, his brow furrowed, while Tony hugs himself with his arms, feeling lightheaded and woozy and a tad self-conscious.

The déjà vu is staggering.

"Wait here," Steve commands, as if Tony has anywhere to go. He disappears into Bucky’s room and returns shortly, a bundle of fabric in his arms.

“It’s Bucky’s nightclothes,” Steve explains. “And an extra quilt from the linen closet. One of his. I just figured… I don’t know. That it might help? For nesting?” The Alpha’s cheeks are bright, fire engine red. “I might be a little off base, I’m just goin’ off what I’ve heard. From school and books, things like that. I’ve never actually been around an Omega in heat before.”

Tony’s throat burns as he forces a swallow.

He’s never nested.

He never had anything to nest with, really, so he never saw the appeal.

“He should be home soon,” Steve continues anxiously, noting Tony’s extended silence. “He’s off from work at seven. If you want to… you can lie down if you need to; I’m sure you’re tired. Buck said to let you sleep, was sure you were going to be exhausted. And you look—” the Alpha cuts himself off, teeth sinking into his lip.

Tony—with his mussed hair and flushed skin and drowsy, half-lidded stare and abominable, sunken posture—knows exactly how he looks.

He takes the clothes from Steve. The bundle of fabric is warm and smells so heavenly he might keel over in his chair and black out onto the floor.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.

“These are perfect,” he rasps. The pheromones wafting from his Alpha’s pajamas rebound into his nose, his head, his dick, cracking into the parts of his body that have been relatively dormant for the past few hours. Reigniting sensation in his nerve endings.

Steve smiles softly. “I’ll warm up supper.”

Tony changes into the nightclothes and wraps the quilt around himself like a shawl, cocooning himself in the warmth of the only man who makes his blood sing.

It’s exquisite.

He collapses back into his chair, feeling drugged, euphoric, and half-hard. Everywhere he turns he’s surrounded by soft fabric that smells like Bucky, clinging to his skin and seeping into his pores, and the dying embers of his heat spark back to life in his veins.

Steve reheats dinner on the stovetop. It’s clear that the Alpha is on edge—his movements are carefully tight, his muscles rigid and his jaw flexing frequently. Still, he regards Tony with subtle, easy restraint and only reveals his discomfort through the barest slip of his microexpressions.

“Eat,” he says simply, pushing a warm plate under Tony’s nose. “And then you can sleep.”

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t wanna sleep. Slept all day.”

“Y’look like you’re about to collapse right into your carrots.”

“Blame my hormones, Rogers, not my circadian rhythm.”

Steve huffs. He fixes his own plate and sits across from Tony. His eyes are completely pupil, his nostrils flared, and his cheeks have a constant, splotchy pink hue. It’s the only indication that anything is amiss as he cuts into his own meal and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t schedule 'entertain a cranky Omega in heat until his Alpha comes back' into today’s itinerary," Steve muses. “Aren’t you supposed to be all sweet and sensitive right now? You know, amenable, affectionate,” he raises an accusatory brow, “docile?”

Tony launches a carrot at him. It hits the Alpha square between the eyes. Steve yelps.

“Sorry to ruin this lurid domestic fantasy, but the only thing feeling particularly sensitive right now is my dick after three days of being rubbed raw.” Tony spears a carrot with his fork and ignores Steve’s indignant sputtering. “If there are any Omegas managing solo heats with the poise and grace of Mother Teresa, please direct them to me. I’d love a few tips.”

Steve blinks at him, wide-eyed and sincere. “What would help?” He asks.

Tony recognizes his own posturing, aware that in his current state, there’s probably no discernible universe where Bucky’s cock inside him wouldn’t reduce him to a docile, mewling, submissive mess.

That, however, is not any of Steve’s business.

Instead, Tony asks, “Do y’have a deck of cards?”

When Bucky returns home an hour later, it’s to a thoroughly incensed Tony, bundled in his nightclothes, wrapped snuggly in his quilt, scowling terribly as the Omega loses his sixth consecutive round of Gin Rummy to a smug, self-satisfied Steve.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you’re a dirty, filthy cheat,” Tony sulks, tossing his hand onto the table. “I don’t know how. Don’t know why. What are you doing, marking cards? Stacking the deck?”

“Could’ve warned you to pick a different game. He’s godawful at Pinochle.”

Bucky strides into the apartment, smudged in soot, smile weary but eyes sparkling, and Tony briefly forgets what muscle groups are used to inhale because the Alpha is immediately crowding into his space. Bending over to wrap his arms around Tony from behind, around Tony’s blanket cocoon, and nuzzling into the Omega’s neck. Relief becomes palpable, tangible, in both Bucky’s body language and his scent. “Would’ve warned you that he’s a real sore winner, too.”

Tony’s tongue cements to the roof of his mouth. After a weekend of heat-induced fantasies of Bucky doing heavily explicit things to his body, his physical presence feels somewhat like a fever dream.

He thought bundling himself in Bucky’s clothes was enough to reignite his stagnating heat, but even that pales in comparison to the blazing flames that ignite in his belly from being bracketed in Bucky’s embrace and feeling his smile against his throat.

“S’all luck,” Steve volleys back, shuffling the cards with a modest shrug. “Just had some good hands. Dinner’s on the stove, Buck.” Too busy soaking in his victory to regard the way Bucky noses at Tony’s jawline. The way Tony trembles and sags in his embrace.

Pulled and picked apart during their separation, already slowly getting woven back together.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Bucky croons lowly, breath caressing Tony’s ear. “Did you eat?”

Tony nods.

“Good boy.” He hugs him tighter and presses his lips to Tony’s temple before releasing him. Tony tilts his chin up to follow him like a flower seeking sunlight.

Like Steve, Bucky’s composure is betrayed by small hints. The faintest sliver of gray iris, overshadowed by glittering, iridescent pupil. The way his jaw swells below his ear, Tony’s eyes fixating on the knot of tension. The warmth to his skin, curling from the unbuttoned expanse of his chest up to his temples.

Unlike Steve, however, Bucky doesn’t bother masking his scent signal. It blooms and swells, rich and musky, feeding off Tony’s pheromones to respond with an aroma so tailored to Tony’s specific brain chemistry that he has to bite down his primal urge to moan like a wanton animal.

The instincts that drive the deepest parts of Tony’s heat edge back into his body and churn like a roiling, crashing wave in his gut. His knees lock underneath the table.

Bucky keeps a hand on him. Sweeps it through his hair. Tony’s lashes flutter.

“I’m going to clean off, real quick.” If Bucky’s telling him or Steve, he doesn’t know. He lets the Alpha’s voice wash over him like a drug. “Keep an eye on him, alright? Try not to do anything that sends him down any further.” A thumb caresses his cheek. Tony pushes into it. “He’s dropping fast.”

“He was fine,” Steve says, a little quiet. Stunned. “A few moments ago. I mean, I knew he was in heat, but. He wasn’t… we played cards for an hour. You know Tony, he was talkin’ all about chemical radiation. Stuff I couldn’t keep up with.”

“Vita radiation,” Tony slurs, dropping his forehead against Bucky’s hip. The Alpha buries his hand under the blanket, under the edge of Tony’s shirt collar, palm flush against the expanse of Tony’s neck. Grip warm, steady and secure. Tony shivers. The skin-to-skin contact turns his spine turns to liquid. “Stabilizin’ properties. An’… electromagnetic wavelengths.”

“He’s in heat, jerk. What do you expect him to do next, help you with the dishes?”

“No thanks; I’ve already witnessed him attempt that task clearheaded. It’s fine, go shower. I’ll help him into your room—”

“Don’t touch him,” Bucky says, command sharp and laced with something a bit carnal, a bit more uncontained. Steve sighs.

“Put your knot away. Ain’t gonna try anything, Jesus.”

“Christ, don’t ask me to be level-headed here, Stevie. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep myself from throwing your scrawny ass out the window for stinking up the room.”

“He’s an Omega in heat. I’m not some superhuman who’s suddenly immune to thousands of years of biology. But he’s also Tony. I would…” Steve’s throat clears, hoarse and strained. “I would never, alright?” His voice quiets. “You know that.”

Tony tunes out the posturing until Bucky’s pulling Tony into his bedroom himself. He coaxes the Omega to sit on the edge of the bed but Tony refuses, doesn’t want to pull out of Bucky’s embrace, and when his hands cradle Tony’s cheeks, Tony nips at his thumb.

“Hi,” Tony says finally.

Bucky rocks his forehead against Tony’s. “Hi, honey.” He pulls back to assess Tony, his gaze sweeping over the disheveled, drowsy Omega. “How are you feelin’?”

Tony considers the question for a beat too long.

“Warm,” he says.

Bucky’s lips twich. “I can tell. You feel warm to me, too.” He pushes Tony’s curls out of his eyes. “Are you tired? Do you need to sleep?”

Tony shakes his head vehemently. The motion leaves him feeling dizzy.

“No. No, I need—” he cuts himself off, his voice hitching as he tries his best to assess the gravity of the situation through the thick, syrupy fog leaking into his brain. He releases a trembling breath and squeezes his eyes shut. When he reopens them, Bucky’s expression is an open chasm of affection and concern.

“Anything,” Bucky promises lowly. The weight of the word sinks like a stone into Tony’s whirling, cramping stomach. “Anything at all, and it’s yours. Tell me, Tony.”

The command activates his synapses.

“Need you,” he pushes out in a rush. His following breath is a whine. “I was alone all weekend. I’m alone every time. Wasn’t enough. S’never enough. Everything hurts, s’not done and I need to come but I can’t anymore. I tried,” he hiccups, and Bucky’s fingers spasm on his cheeks. “Tried everything by myself. Thought of you the whole time. Wished you were there, needed you—”

He’s cut off by Bucky’s mouth on his, kissing him silent. He grabs the back of Tony’s neck and devours him, ravenous.

Tony releases a soft, strangled warble when Bucky separates Tony’s lips with his tongue and pushes the quilt off Tony’s shoulders, his fingers reaching to grip the ridges of Tony’s spine. Tony’s heart gallops against Bucky’s and he feels the bow of his ribs as he’s arched backward. For a wild moment, he thinks Bucky’s going to lay him on the floor and oh, Tony would let him, can’t imagine anything he wants more in that moment than for Bucky to push him onto the cold, hard, unforgiving surface of his bedroom floor and fuck the ache out of his bones, quick and rough and dirty.

A low, predatory growl rumbles from Bucky’s chest, the vibrations pushing into Tony’s mouth, and Tony sucks them down greedily.

“Needed you too, gorgeous,” Bucky drawls, voice hoarse. His lips trail Tony’s jawline before sucking on Tony’s scent gland, and Tony shakes. “Drove myself near crazy, thinkin’ about you. My sweet boy, all alone. Hurtin’ real bad for his Alpha.” Deft fingers nudge Tony’s—Bucky’s—sleep shirt up to Tony’s navel, and Bucky’s fingers grip the skin of Tony’s bare waist like a vice.

“Please,” Tony gasps, not entirely sure what he’s begging for. He pushes his hips against Bucky’s, blindly seeking purchase, and his stomach dips when his sore, leaking dick presses up against Bucky’s own staggeringly huge, clothed erection.

“I’m gonna take you apart. M’gonna take my time with you, give you exactly what you need. And you’re gonna come for me, Tony,” Bucky croons. His own hips pitch rhythmically, his hands keeping Tony locked in place for the inevitable onslaught of magnificent, glorious friction. Bucky’s own breathing is shuddery, and he pushes his promises out through his teeth. “Bet you could come just like this, couldn’t you, doll?”

Tony’s responding moan cracks and shudders into a wail, and it has Bucky chuckling into his throat, low and dirty.

“Oh, baby doll. Pretty baby. So easy, just needs a few sweet words and a little help from his Alpha, that’s all. Nothing wrong with that, honey. Take what you need, baby, I’ll give you more.” His voice is rough yet soothing, warm yet dangerous, washing over Tony and heating him from the inside out.

He is going to come like this, no doubt—right into Bucky’s sleep pants like some hormonal pup, and it’s going to be the best damn orgasm he’s ever had.

Sensing Tony's resolve faltering in his shaky limbs, Bucky hooks his arm around Tony’s waist and hauls him toward the nearest surface, crowding the unsteady Omega to perch on top of the small, wooden desk pressed into the corner of his bedroom. Pencils and pens go clattering to the floor, papers scattering, but neither boy pays the mess any mind.

Bucky pulls Tony’s legs around his hips. Presses a bruising kiss to Tony’s mouth that’s mostly tongue and teeth, fingers gripping Tony’s thighs. His skin is still smudged in a layer of grit, his work clothes wrinkled and stained with grime, and he smells like smoke and sweat and something else so deliciously animalistic that Tony wants to sink his teeth into it.

When Bucky peers down at Tony, his eyes are a little wide, a little wild and unfocused, and Tony thinks it’s the most beautiful the Alpha’s ever looked. The Alpha pushes their foreheads together, his own damp with a layer of perspiration that Tony wants to lick.

“For three days, I thought of nothing else but you. I thought of every single way I could take you apart. I popped a knot into my own fist picturin’ you, just like this.” With single-minded determination, he rocks his hips into Tony’s, and stars explode behind Tony’s eyelids. “And maybe I’m a selfish bastard, sweetheart, because I promised you such sweet things, promised you a bed, and promised to take my time. And I will, darlin’. God, I’ll do everything. Anything you want.”

Tony’s gasp saws out of his lungs, slick gushing out of him like a faucet. Dripping into Bucky’s sleep pants and pooling between his thighs. Bucky’s nostrils flare and his scent spikes with something feral.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on every part of you. My hands on every part of you. You’re not leavin’ this room until all of Brooklyn knows you’re mine.”

“Bucky,” Tony whimpers, the familiar, delicious pressure in his abdomen building and swelling like an ocean wave. Bucky drops his head into the crook of Tony’s knock and grinds his hips into Tony’s and Tony burns, the contact bordering somewhere on the delicious cusp of pain and pleasure as his weeping, oversensitive prick drools against his bare stomach.

He tries to orgasm like this, in heat, on his own. Usually on his stomach, crippled with exhaustion, dragging his hips against a soft, unyielding surface after hours of spilling into his own hand.

It’s either a fruitless endeavor or bookended by the shame Tony feels immediately after. Stuck humping the mattress like a dog.

This is neither of those things.

This is Bucky’s scent curling in his nostrils. This is Bucky’s hands on his thighs, his waist, his cheeks, his neck, anchoring him in the Alpha’s grip. This is Bucky’s shallowed breathing punching into his ear, the press of his straining erection against Tony’s inner thigh, the lewd, filthy promises spilling out of Bucky’s lips that the Alpha can’t seem to contain.

So when Bucky’s hand trails from his hips to lift him, just enough to shift his grip to Tony’s ass, Tony knows he’s done for.

Because Bucky’s fingers ghost the unmistakable, dampened trail left behind at the seam of Tony’s borrowed sleep pants, and he snarls.

Raw. Uninhibited.

He runs a finger down the seam, just the tip applying the barest, teasing amount of pressure, before he pushes in and catches the rim of Tony’s hole with damp, sodden fabric.

Tony jerks like he’s been shocked, a full-body quake that makes his spine arch and his thighs squeeze tighter around Bucky’s hips. His body reacts before his mind can catch up, a strangled, desperate whimper spilling from his lips. The friction of the soaked flannel against his most sensitive spot is maddening—too much and not enough all at once.

“Ah, fuck, Buck—” Tony's voice cracks, breaking on the last syllable as his head tips back. His throat is bare—vulnerable—and his scent thickens, sweet and heady with desperation. It hits them both like a freight train and has Bucky’s pupils blowing wide.

“Language, baby doll,” Bucky chides, though the low rasp under his words betrays his self-control. His lips curve into a sinful smile, the hand at Tony’s waist squeezing just hard enough to remind him of the strength coiled beneath the Alpha’s flesh. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re beggin’ me to ruin you.”

Tony’s brain short-circuits. He doesn’t know whether to gasp or nod, so his body does both at once, resulting in a breathless, trembling noise that seems to light a fire in Bucky’s chest. The Alpha grins wider, his teeth flashing sharp.

“You want that, don’t you, pretty?” Bucky murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr that slides down Tony’s spine and pools molten in his core. He presses his finger harder against the seam of the sleep pants, rolling his hips in a deliberate grind that has Tony keening, his hands scrabbling at Bucky’s shoulders for something—anything—to hold onto.

“Yes,” Tony breathes, his voice trembling but certain. “Anything. Alpha. Please.”

The words snap something inside Bucky. His fingers tug at the waistband of Tony’s sleep pants, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through Tony’s chest, as if the barrier between them is some kind of offense. With a single sharp motion, the pants are shoved down, past his ass and taut at Tony’s thighs, leaving him bare and dripping onto the desk.

Bucky’s hands seek out the newly exposed skin and palm the flesh of Tony’s slick, leaking bottom.

“You’re mine,” Bucky growls, pressing his face to Tony’s neck and inhaling deeply. The rough scrape of his stubble sends shocks of sensation racing across Tony’s skin, and the scent of cedar and pine thickens in the air, blanketing Tony in warmth and safety. “All mine, Tony. Say it.”

Tony’s lips part, but the words don’t come immediately. His chest heaves, his pulse racing under the heavy weight of Bucky’s gaze. The Alpha waits, his nostrils fluttering as his thumbs trace soothing circles into the flesh of Tony’s hips, grounding him.

“I’m yours,” Tony finally whispers, his voice soft but his conviction steady. Surprisingly clear-headed. “Always yours.”

Bucky’s response is a deep, satisfied rumble that vibrates against Tony’s skin. He presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath Tony’s jaw, a kiss that lingers just long enough to leave a burn, and then his hands begin to roam. Every touch is deliberate, claiming, and Tony melts into it, his body pliant and willing.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises, his voice rough and reverent. “I’m gonna take care of you, honey. Gonna give you everything you need.”

Tony trembles beneath Bucky, too overwhelmed to process the mix of sensations flooding him. His body is caught between an unbearable heat and the aching, empty feeling that comes with wanting more.

Bucky’s eyes darken, catching the raw need in Tony’s expression as the Omega squirms beneath him. “You want more, don’t you?” Bucky murmurs, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Tony’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Want me to take care of you properly, baby?” He doesn’t give Tony a chance to answer, rolling his hips again, the hard press of his cock a cruel tease against Tony’s bare, slick-coated thighs.

Tony can barely breathe, let alone form words. He nods, his hips instinctively rocking up into Bucky’s, seeking that friction, that release.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, pressing his lips to Tony’s ear. “I know, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re needy like this. Want my hands on you again, don’t you? Want me to finish what I started?”

Tony can’t stop the whimper that escapes him, his fingers clutching at Bucky’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer as the heat in his belly builds again, stronger, more urgent. The ache is overwhelming, but Bucky’s own fingers are already trailing lower, down to the waistband of Tony’s sleep pants, his breath hot against Tony’s skin.

Without warning, Bucky pulls Tony’s hips forward, his free hand gliding under the fabric. His fingers brush over the wet, slick mess of Tony’s dick, trapped under the flannel and already straining with the desperate need for release.

Tony gasps, his back arching, his breath catching in his throat as Bucky’s warm, callused hand finally finds him, wrapping around his hot, aching length.

Tony bucks into the touch, unfamiliar and perfect. His mouth drops into a surprised o.

“Look at you,” Bucky murmurs, his voice thick with wonder and hunger. “Is this what you need, baby?” he croons. “Let me make you feel good, Tony. Let me help you come.”

Tony’s head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as Bucky’s hand starts to move, slow and deliberate, up and down the length of his cock. It’s perfect, the pressure just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing through his already overstimulated body.

Bucky’s thumb runs over the tip of Tony’s dick, spreading the pre-cum leaking from the slit. “You feel so good like this,” Bucky murmurs, his voice rougher now, the tension in his body palpable. His own arousal pours into the room through his scent, wolfish and unrestrained. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

Tony can barely form a coherent thought, his body too consumed with the building pressure to focus on anything else. All he can do is nod, his legs trembling, the intensity of the pleasure hitting him hard.

“Fuck, Tony, I can feel you. You’re so close. Come for me, baby. You know you want to.”

Bucky’s pace picks up, his strokes faster, rougher, wetter, until Tony’s body is trembling uncontrollably beneath him, every inch of him aching with the need to release. He leans in, his forehead pressing against Tony’s, his gaze locked onto the Omega’s flushed, blissed-out face. “Let go for me, Tony,” he commands, his voice low. Wrecked. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

The command hits Tony like a lightning strike, and his body obeys without hesitation. His release crashes over him, white-hot and all-consuming, ripping a broken sob from his lips as his release coats Bucky’s hand and stomach in thick, sticky warmth.

His entire body trembles, his posture threatening to give out, but Bucky’s strong arms are there, holding him steady, murmuring, “Baby, baby, baby, oh, that’s it,” with the reverence of a prayer as he grounds him through the rolling crests of his orgasm.

“Sweet boy, pretty Omega, so perfect.” A hand sweeps through his hair fingers gripping his curls. Teeth scraping against the hinge of his jaw. “Let me hear you.”

“Alpha,” Tony near-sobs. The world tilts, the pleasure consuming him completely, and all he can do is hold onto Bucky for dear life as the Alpha continues to guide him through it, gentle but insistent.

When Tony sags against him, boneless and spent, Bucky presses his mouth to Tony’s sweat-dampened hairline, his voice a soft rumble in Tony’s ear. Tony is left panting, breathless, and utterly spent. He slumps into Bucky’s arms, his body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks.

Bucky presses another kiss to Tony’s temple, his hand lingering on Tony’s waist. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice softening. “So fucking good. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Tony nods, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath. “Always,” he slurs, sinking into Bucky’s embrace. “Always w’you.”

And for the first time in days, Tony feels like he can finally relax—finally let go.

That sweet, syrupy feeling washes over him again.

He’s in Bucky’s arms, and that’s all that matters.

[mdhwrites]

The Mis-Projections of Odalia

Odalia's fanon versus canon characterizations are fascinating to me because at every turn, the fandom takes what is actually a reasonable trait of Odalia and cranks it up to 11, even to the point where it's entirely incongruent with both the facts and the spirit of the show. Consider this a continuation of me questioning how bad a parent Odalia is. I will also say upfront here that I have point, beyond just bashing fandom's ability to remember what the show is, for why this matters but I need to get through the rest first.

So, how does the fandom, or most of them at least, characterize Odalia? Well, they make it that she is the root of all evil, abusive, racist, classist, doesn't care about anyone or anything but herself and is a capitalist who only ever sells snake oils and lies.

In the show... She's very few of these things and many of the rest are actually her being a part of the Isle's culture. Not its nebulous culture that's bad but like the ONE element of its culture that is ever consistent. We'll get to that though.

Is she evil? Honestly, by the metrics of the show, not really. She isn't an slaver like the publishing lizard. She doesn't kill people just for fun like the bounty hunters. She doesn't scam people (we'll get back to that) like Tibbles. She isn't entirely good mind you, she's scrupulous and is willing to break her own beliefs when emotions run high but compared to like ALL the other villains in TOH, she's weirdly tame. Now mind you, the villains of TOH are all charicatures based out of the 90s so the bar is ROCK FUCKING BOTTOM but rather than fantasy levels of evil, Odalia is boringly modern and constrained. Put her in the human realm and literally nothing of what she does changes, including making a killer robot. She is not the worst person on the Isles though.

How about being a bigot of any sort? Well, Dana is correct that as far as we see, Belos is the only bigot on the Isles. The closest that ever comes to it otherwise is Boscha scribbling Round Ears on Luz which as far as bigotry goes is the equivalent of calling a kid with glasses four eyes. No, instead, she is, like all of the Isles, merit based in how she treats people. Period. No ifs ands or buts.

I say this so firmly because people don't seem to understand that. Boscha is liked because she is strong and gets results. Amity was popular because she was top of her class and got results. Willow was disliked not because of any racial, religious, gender, etc. element, it was ENTIRELY from the fact that she fucked around, caused trouble and was entirely unskilled. By her own society, young Willow was an abject failure. She wouldn't listen to rules, even simple ones like 'go to class' in the flashback we see with Amity, and her skill with magic was genuinely abysmal until she swapped courses at which point she excelled and became popular.

So, who does Odalia dislike? Gus, Willow and Luz. One of these fuckers doesn't want to follow what he's a savant at and instead wants to chase cryptids by their societies standards, and also got his ass put into detention before breaking detention to get out, the next already had a history of fucking around and is associated with two troublemakers already meaning she is still trouble, and the third... The third is the apprentice to the OWL LADY. She practices WILD MAGIC. Everything about Luz is illegal WITHOUT getting into all the times Luz has broken the law, rules and just general common sense. By a meritocracy, what the Isles is, these three are the bottom of the barrel. It'd be like saying a parent was unreasonable for not wanting their kid to hang out with the sixteen year old drug dealer behind their school and skipping class to do so. She's pretty fucking valid honestly for not wanting Amity to associate with these people.

Is she abusive? This one is more up in the air but besides Escaping Expulsion, we never see consequences for disobeying her, minus when her kids break the law and try to sabotage their own family in Clouds on the Horizon for which they're ONLY GROUNDED instead of way worse. We also never really see her kids worry about punishment outside of, again, Escaping Expulsion where the twins mention not telling mom they're helping but also they don't try to stop Amity out of fear for her own safety. You know, like people who are used to strict retaliation for mistakes should be. Amity quits the covens and seems to have literally no repercussions from that. She can also just keep telling her mom to go fuck off about her hair. This is not the attitude of an abused child. Oh and on the side of Odalia gives zero shits about her family, first I'm going to say I'm entirely ignoring Clouds on the Horizon's bullshit of "I knew about Belos' plan" because there's no reason for her to have been told that, no need for her to have been told that and is such a needless escalation of her character being cartoonishly evil, ratcheting back into being at home with the rest of the villains of TOH, that it it is just a transcendentally bad piece of writing that should only be mocked. HOWEVER. The first time we literally ever hear about Odalia is a moment of kindness and care. She sends the twins to bring Amity her lunch to make sure she eats. That's... Caring. She didn't send them to scold her or punished her by not letting her eat, she sent her troublemaking twins to the library to feed her and probably in hopes that the twins might study a bit. That's a fine mom move. Without more that is clearly abuse, I see it as neutral at worst. The necklace is the same way. It's more secretive than sending her daughter texts but they all have cellphones, she can just text her and that's really all she ever does with the necklace. She never actually controls Amity with it. Without more to sustain allegations of abuse, I don't see it as anything particularly nasty.

And finally: Is she a scammer? I won't say she isn't a capitalist but TOH never tears down the whole economy and the Isles appears to be by volume 80% scammers or criminals of some sort when it comes to their shopkeeps so capitalism is still absolutely a thing. Is Odalia one of these though? No. The worst she does is exaggeration and that's just marketing. It's not false advertising, it's just painting your product the best you can. She never says the abomaton can take down an Emperor's Coven guard so a trained, albeit young but also top of her class, abomination witch being able to take down the abomaton 1.0? Yeah. that's not lying. It still would do a plenty good job protecting your home and kids from things most people want out of their home defense systems like burglars. It also factually can do everything else Odalia promised. We're shown that. Whether it does it well is up for debate but it DOES do everything legitimately with Amity up until she's supposed to feign being in danger which like... Did you want her to be actually in danger? Actually have her life at risk? Because that would be irresponsible especially to do to your OWN DAUGHTER. She only removes essentially the safety constraints once it's someone she gives no shits about and sees gain in their removal (and also is pissed.) That's not scamming people, that's a product demonstration. It was still able to grab Amity and lift her in the air with one arm, showing its strength. Also, everything else Odalia shows off as Blight Industry tech is legit, much to Luz's detriment.

SO. As you can see, the fandom is essentially dead wrong when it comes to Odalia. They took kernals of truth, that she's a strict mom, capitalist, judgemental, etc. and blew them up to be as bad as they could be. Why did they do this though? Why is this even important?

Well, it's because the show WANTS you to take her that far. Amity doesn't actually do much to redeem herself, especially to those she wrongs. She NEVER does anything but a bare minimum apology to Willow for YEARS of bullying that Odalia didn't ask her to do. Odalia just asked her to stop being friends with Willow. But hey, since all Amity does is an apology, that Willow only kind of accepts, literally stating they're not friends still... What do you do about that? Standing up to Boscha is for Luz after all. Standing up to her mom is for Luz. She never even bashes the ideologies she used to have to show her change, just that she was nebulously wrong but she's better now without any real sacrifice or meaningful acts of redemption. So... As a viewer, what the fuck do you do with that?

Edit: Someone pointed out that she doesn't actually apologize. She does say she was wrong when she was younger which is actually good for redemption BUUUUUT she claims she'll make Boscha and everyone else stop bullying Willow. Then Winging it Like Witches happens where Amity doesn't give a fuck about what Boscha is doing until it is focus fired on Luz making her whole speech there just a bold faced lie. Good job Amity.

Well, you do what the show did and scapegoat people. Why is it okay that Amity abandons her friends like she did Willow so many years ago? Because they're evil and bad people, or Boscha is at least, despite Boscha doing nothing Amity hasn't already in the show. But she was only like that because of her mom. Her awful, abusive, controlling, classist...

Wait a second. Do you dear reader see the problem?

This is why the projection is required. TOH actually is really bad at redemption arcs, namely that it doesn't know what redemption means besides no longer being a dick, and so you actually no way to forgive the characters for what they did by what they do. As such, you need excuses. The people the fandom hates the most are usually those scapegoats, especially for Amity. Why is Boscha worse than Belos when all she is is a bully? Because people claim she was the reason Amity was a bully and shift the fact that Amity was Willow's main bully to Boscha, despite all evidence to the contrary. Why do they make Odalia worse than all other villains in media combined? Because otherwise, their blorbo, the lesbian that helped make TOH as popular as it was, the one who was endlessly praised for having a transcendentally written character arc... Is never redeemed nor actually has much of an arc or depth to her character. She NEEDS to have all these serious elements put upon her through her mom or else... She's just a mean girl who fell in love and decided to care about one person and be a LITTLE better to other people. Remember, at the point of Labyrinth Runners, an entire season after Understanding Willow, Amity does not recognize that she was wrong that Willow is weak despite Willow's entire character for the past season being defined by how overpowered she. Amity very clearly has not been paying attention or caring about anyone about Luz and that's not what a good person does? You care because caring is the correct thing to do.

And I care because I would like her to be written better. I would like her to be more than what she was. I would like the whole show to be. But... Odalia isn't what you think she is and that matters because it means Amity isn't either. The show isn't either. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

One of America’s most corporate-crime-friendly bankruptcy judges forced to recuse himself

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

"I’ll believe corporations are people when Texas executes one." The now-famous quip from Robert Reich cuts to the bone of corporate personhood. Corporations are people with speech rights. They are heat-shields that absorb liability on behalf of their owners and managers.

But the membrane separating corporations from people is selectively permeable. A corporation is separate from its owners, who are not liable for its deeds – but it can also be "closely held," and so inseparable from those owners that their religious beliefs can excuse their companies from obeying laws they don't like:

https://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/2014/10/13/hobby-lobby-and-closely-held-corporations/

Corporations – not their owners – are liable for their misdeeds (that's the "limited liability" in "limited liablity corporation"). But owners of a murderous company can hold their victims' families hostage and secure bankruptcies for their companies that wipe out their owners' culpability – without any requirement for the owners to surrender their billions to the people they killed and maimed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Corporations are, in other words, a kind of Schroedinger's Cat for impunity: when it helps the ruling class, corporations are inseparable from their owners; when that would hinder the rich and powerful, corporations are wholly distinct entities. They exist in a state of convenient superposition that collapses only when a plutocrat opens the box and decides what is inside it. Heads they win, tails we lose.

Key to corporate impunity is the rigged bankruptcy system. "Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid," so every successful civilization has some system for discharging debt, or it risks collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/bankruptcy-protects-fake-people-brutalizes-real-ones/

When you or I declare bankruptcy, we have to give up virtually everything and endure years (or a lifetime) of punitive retaliation based on our stained credit records, and even then, our student debts continue to haunt us, as do lawless scumbag debt-collectors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

When a giant corporation declares bankruptcy, by contrast, it emerges shorn of its union pension obligations and liabilities owed to workers and customers it abused or killed, and continues merrily on its way, re-offending at will. Big companies have mastered the Texas Two-Step, whereby a company creates a subsidiary that inherits all its liabilities, but not its assets. The liability-burdened company is declared bankrupt, and the company's sins are shriven at the bang of a judge's gavel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

Three US judges oversee the majority of large corporate bankruptcies, and they are so reliable in their deference to this scheme that an entire industry of high-priced lawyers exists solely to game the system to ensure that their clients end up before one of these judges. When the Sacklers were seeking to abscond with their billions in opioid blood-money and stiff their victims' families, they set their sights on Judge Robert Drain in the Southern District of New York:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/23/a-bankrupt-process/#sacklers

To get in front of Drain, the Sacklers opened an office in White Plains, NY, then waited 192 days to file bankruptcy papers there (it takes six months to establish jurisdiction). Their papers including invisible metadata that identified the case as destined for Judge Drain's court, in a bid to trick the court's Case Management/Electronic Case Files system to assign the case to him.

The case was even pre-captioned "RDD" ("Robert D Drain"), to nudge clerks into getting their case into a friendly forum.

If the Sacklers hadn't opted for Judge Drain, they might have set their sights on the Houston courthouse presided over by Judge David Jones, the second of of the three most corporate-friendly large bankruptcy judges. Judge Jones is a Texas judge – as in "Texas Two-Step" – and he has a long history of allowing corporate murderers and thieves to escape with their fortunes intact and their victims penniless:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#shoppers-choice

But David Jones's reign of error is now in limbo. It turns out that he was secretly romantically involved with Elizabeth Freeman, a leading Texas corporate bankruptcy lawyer who argues Texas Two-Step cases in front of her boyfriend, Judge David Jones.

Judge Jones doesn't deny that he and Freeman are romantically involved, but said that he didn't think this fact warranted disclosure – let alone recusal – because they aren't married and "he didn't benefit economically from her legal work." He said that he'd only have to disclose if the two owned communal property, but the deed for their house lists them as co-owners:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24032507-general-warranty-deed

(Jones claims they don't live together – rather, he owns the house and pays the utility bills but lets Freeman live there.)

Even if they didn't own communal property, judges should not hear cases where one of the parties is represented by their long term romantic partner. I mean, that is a weird sentence to have to type, but I stand by it.

The case that led to the revelation and Jones's stepping away from his cases while the Fifth Circuit investigates is a ghastly – but typical – corporate murder trial. Corizon is a prison healthcare provider that killed prisoners with neglect, in the most cruel and awful ways imaginable. Their families sued, so Corizon budded off two new companies: YesCare got all the contracts and other assets, while Tehum Care Services got all the liabilities:

https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/prominent-bankruptcy-judge-david-jones-033801325.html

Then, Tehum paid Freeman to tell her boyfriend, Judge Jones, to let it declare bankruptcy, leaving $173m for YesCare and allocating $37m for the victims suing Tehum. Corizon owes more than $1.2b, "including tens of millions of dollars in unpaid invoices and hundreds of malpractice suits filed by prisoners and their families who have alleged negligent care":

https://www.kccllc.net/tehum/document/2390086230522000000000041

Under the deal, if Corizon murdered your family member, you would get $5,000 in compensation. Corizon gets to continue operating, using that $173m to prolong its yearslong murder spree.

The revelation that Jones and Freeman are lovers has derailed this deal. Jones is under investigation and has recused himself from his cases. The US Trustee – who represents creditors in bankruptcy cases – has intervened to block the deal, calling Tehum "a barren estate, one that was stripped of all of its valuable assets as a result of the combination and divisional mergers that occurred prior to the bankruptcy filing."

This is the third high-profile sleazy corporate bankruptcy that had victory snatched from the jaws of defeat this year: there was Johnson and Johnson's attempt to escape from liability from tricking women into powder their vulvas with asbestos (no, really), the Sacklers' attempt to abscond with billions after kicking off the opioid epidemic that's killed 800,000+ Americans and counting, and now this one.

This one might be the most consequential, though – it has the potential to eliminate one third of the major crime-enabling bankruptcy judges serving today.

One down.

Two to go.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[sadalmostlesbian]

District 11: A Cultural Snapshot

I've been searching through District 11 content on Tumblr and wanted to create something myself that focused on the visual cultural exploration on District 11, which (in this post) heavily focuses on the possible cultural elements of D11, with reference towards ancestral African American cultural practices, music, and art. Sources and background information for all photos are linked below!

Honey's Mango Bob by fiber artist Carole Gary Staples; renowned fiber artist Rosie Lee Allen with the grandchildren in front of a quilt she created; sweetgrass basket stand of Gullah artist Mazie Brown; Woman of Gullah heritage weaving a traditional sweetgrass basket; Soul food Chef Roosevelt Brownlee; Fishing boats in Mount Pleasant, SC; Cornell Cox sells boiled peanuts in Hollywood, SC; Member of Mt. Calvary Missionary Baptist Church after being baptized in Skull Creek, Hilton Head Island, SC, Indoor Group Shot of Children, Mount Horeb Sunday School, Mississippi; Gone Fishing and Hoeing Corn by prolific Black folk artist Clementine Hunter; houses in the historic New Orleans Creole neighborhood Faubourg Marigny; paintings of Black women donning headdress scarves in ordinance with the 1786 Tignon law which stated that Black women had to wear a scarf or handkerchief over their hair as a visible sign of belonging to the slave class, whether they were enslaved or not (scarves have been a popular fashion statement in Black American culture ever since); Sweet Emma and Her Preservation Hall Jazz Band; Abbey Lincoln singing at an AJASS event, Harlem (technically this photo was not taken in the D11 region, it was taken much father north, but since Jazz originated in Congo Square in New Orleans, Louisiana, I decided to include it); rice fields in the American south alongside hands holding rice grains (both photos come from this BBC article, which details how rice shaped the American south, soul food traditions, and discussed the immense knowledge regarding rice cultivation in enslaved African populations in the southern US); photographs from the bayou close to New Orleans; celebrations of Black hair and beauty supply stores, a symbol of Black self-sufficiency and cultural ownership in the US.

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline. Spider-Man: Homecoming. Part 2

Part 1

F*ck up #4: More stupid mistakes with time frames. May plus two months is July. Peter has already been back to school for 5 weeks in this scene. It's not July, it's October (5 months later). Or let's ignore Peter's passport and CW and count backwards: early October minus two months is July/early August. Peter came home from school when he met Tony at his apartment, if you remember.

October 9, 2016 (Wednesday):

7:50 am - Peter arrives at Midtown High, where Ned tells him that he got a Lego Death Star set that they can build together. Peter tells him "yes, but not today", as he is going on a "Stark internship."

11:38 am - after Physics, Peter creates Web fluid 3.01 during Chemistry.

12:35 pm - lunchtime. Peter and Ned stare at Liz Allan.

1:15 pm - Academic Decathlon practice. Peter tells Mr. Harrington that he cannot participate and go to Washington because of his "internship". Flash takes his place on the team.

2:45 pm - end of classes. Peter finally goes to his "internship".

~3 pm - he buys gummy worms and a sandwich at Delmar's, leaves his clothes and backpack among the trash cans, puts on his high-tech suit, and goes to play Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man for the next few hours.

Note: the expiration date of the gummy worms is "03-16-18". These gummies have a shelf life of 548 days which means they were made on September 14, 2016.

Between 3 pm and 8 pm - Peter's backpack disappears along with the trash he left it among.

~7:30 pm - after finishing his patrol, Peter sends his report to Happy's voicemail while eating churros bought for him by an old lady he helped.

7:40 pm - a group of thugs in Avengers masks with alien-tech weapons rob an ATM below where he is sitting. He tries to stop them, but fails to prevent them from using their weapons, which results in the destruction of Delmar's Grocery across the street.

F*ck up #5: The sun was still above the horizon when the robbery began. When it ended minutes later, it was pitch dark.

8 pm - Happy supervises the packing in Avengers Tower. He takes the call when Peter calls him again. He tells Peter that Tony has sold the Tower and they are moving to the Compound upstate.

Note: let's remember that "next week" includes October 14-20.

The guy who tried to break into his own car is still "glued" to it by an old version of Peter's web, which dissolves after 6-7 hours (deleted scene, 6:45).

~8:30 pm - Peter crawls to his room as Ned witnesses. Peter makes him promise not to tell anyone that he is Spider-Man and sends him out.

9:30 pm - Peter and May have dinner at Prachya Thai. Peter tells May that he is tired because of his "internship". They see the breaking news about the robbery. The owner flirts with May.

October 10, 2016 (Thursday):

~7 am - on the way to school, as they pass the scene of yesterday's crime, Ned asks Peter questions about the spider that bit him.

8 am - 2:45 pm - he continues to torment Parker with questions about his alter ego until he blurts out that "Peter knows Spider-Man" in gym class, and Liz invites them to her party.

~9 pm - party at Liz's house.

Peter changes into his Spider-Man suit outside when he sees a strange explosion in the distance. He goes to investigate and finds Toomes' smugglers attempting to sell weapons to petty criminal Aaron Davis.

9:30 pm - Ned exposes Peter by calling him. Peter chases the smugglers' van until he is caught by the Vulture.

Note: Peter's phone says it's 9:30 pm.

And then we have this shot of Toomes' phone, which says it's 9:27 pm (going back in time), but also look at the month. Yeah, it's too blurry to tell for sure, but from what I know about how months are written, it can only be "March." Remember this f*ck up (#6), because we'll come back to it in the future.

Peter falls into a lake. Tony saves him by sending his remote-controlled suit.

~9:40 pm - Peter tells Tony about the Vulture and the smugglers. Tony shows him that the suit is empty and he is actually in India. Tony tells Peter to call Happy the next time he encounters that weapon, not to get into dangerous situations, just be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and to start thinking about college.

Tony ends the call and leaves the Indian wedding he was attending for some mysterious reason.

~9:50 pm - on the way back, Peter stumbles upon a piece of alien tech that has fallen out of the van. Ned calls him to tell that he shouldn't go back to the party and that they'll see each other tomorrow.

Note: remember this frame too, because in Part 3 we will need it for another f*ck up.

Toomes and his smugglers return to their base. "Tinkerer" Mason informs him that he has completed the design of the high-altitude vacuum seal. Toomes kills Shocker #1, levels up Shocker #2, and sends him out to find the weapon they lost.

October 11, 2016 (Friday):

Between 8 am and 2:45 pm - Peter and Ned disconnect the alien power source from the weapon during a workshop class.

3 pm - Shocker #2 and another smuggler are searching for the weapon at Midtown High. Peter places a tracker on them.

Note: the days when the chess club meets - Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

4 pm - Night - Peter and Ned track down the smugglers at Parkers' apartment and discover that they have a lair in Maryland (not really). Peter decides to use his participation in the Academic Decathlon to check out the location.

When was the Decathlon?

The movie gives us two options (which is f*ck up #7):

September 14

October 13-15

What we know for sure: a) it happened over a weekend; b) it only took 2 days; c) the school year already started at least 5-6 weeks ago (Tony’s words), but no more (this is definitely no later than mid-October); d) the gummy worms Peter bought at Delmar's were made on September 14, 2016.

So here's the conclusion:

It can't be September. So it's October.

It couldn't have been exactly October 13-15 because it only took 2 days, not 3 (f*ck up #8).

But it was around these dates, because of the 5-6 weeks.

This way we get October 12-13 (Sa-Su in SMH's calendar).

October 12, 2016 (Saturday):

~12 pm - Peter rejoins the Decathlon team and they depart for DC.

Note: the drive from Queens to Washington, D.C. takes about 5 hours. Assuming dinner time is 6 pm and she needs an hour to attend the protest, the departure time is 12 pm.

3 pm - Happy receives a notification from the tracker in Peter's suit that Peter has left New York. Happy calls him.

5 pm - the bus arrives in DC.

~7 pm - Peter removes the tracker from his suit and asks Ned to disable the Training Wheels protocol.

~9 pm - Peter leaves for the mission, leaving the glowy thing with Ned. May is informed that he has left the hotel room.

The AI ​​in his suit activates, "thinking" that he has successfully completed the TW protocol. Peter gains access to the suit's full capabilities.

Note: in this shot, there is a timeline at the bottom of the HUD showing Saturday night.

~10 pm - he and the AI ​​find the smugglers lying in wait for a DoDC truck.

The Vulture robs the truck. Peter tries to stop him, but ends up knocked unconscious and locked in the back of the truck, which takes him to the DoDC vault.

October 13, 2016 (Sunday):

Early morning - while Peter waits for the doors to open, he names the AI ​​Karen and goes through the refresher course for his suit during the first 37 minutes of his stay there.

Karen informs him that the glowy thing Ned is carrying is a Chitauri explosive energy core.

Peter tries 246 code combinations to open the door until 247 is successful.

~8 am - Ned leaves his hotel room for the Decathlon final with the energy core in his backpack. Peter returns on passing cars.

~9 am - Academic Decathlon Finals. Midtown wins thanks to MJ.

~10 am - the team celebrates at the Washington Monument. They go inside for a tour when the irradiated core explodes in an elevator at the top of the Monument.

Peter arrives and saves everyone.

Toomes sees on the news that Spider-Man saved his daughter.

Night - the team returns to Queens.

Part 3

MCU Timeline: The Infinity Saga

[nicolesainz]

You belong with me (MM7)

Mason Mount x f!reader

Author’s note: I am in the middle of a Charles Leclerc fic and studying for exams and yet at 11 at night all I am willing to do is write a fic about Mase. So here you go! It’s a very simple plot from Mason’s POV.

Summary: You indeed belong with him, you just haven’t realized it yet. Mason has been trying everything and when the perfect opportunity arises, he is willing to take it up and make you his.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, minor violence, soft in the end!

She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. There is no one else in this world that I would want to make and call ‘mine’. If I had a lamp with a genie inside, my only wish would be to let me love her unconditionally.

It’s a pity she won’t let me love her. She’s in search for the love of a man that doesn’t even want her. Even worse, can’t provide her the love I can and am willing to give. I feel sick to my stomach knowing her heart has been engraved with his name instead of mine.

Y/N and I have been best friends before we could even talk. As babies our eyes and childish giggles would do the trick. As we were growing up, our relationship became stronger and we were attacked to the hip. She’d beg her mother to stay over at my house and I would beg my mom to stay over at her house.

We would never sleep. We would talk endless hours about what we want to do in life. What we want to succeed in. What our lives would be in 20 years time.

“I will be playing for Chelsea one day and I will win the Champions League. I promise you.” I said as a young boy, hopping on my bed, with a dream and passion to motivate me.

“You will be a superstar one day, Masey. And I will always be by your side to cheer for you.” Y/n replied, looking up to me, with a massive smile plastered on her face and her bubbly eyes admiring me.

Y/n did keep her word. She’s been present to all of my games. Whether those were in London, in Holland or other parts of the world, she has been truly my biggest fan. At winning games and losing games, she’s stood by me like no one else has or will ever do so.

Every goal I scored was dedicated to her. My celebrations would vary but a small heart would always be included. If I ever forgot the heart celebration, I would go up to the camera and mouth an ‘I love you’ to the screen so she would see it.

A lot of people in high school believed that we were dating. I would’ve loved to confirm those rumors, although y/n’a undying love for the nerd, tall boy in our class would ruin everything I wished for. He was expressionless and would simply smile like an idiot to her whenever they had a small conversation.

The moment we stopped sitting next to each other my blood would boil every time I caught him looking at her. I would send her small paper notes to keep her distracted from his presence. At times, I wasn’t able to go to class because of games or practice so for the entirely of the time, she would occupy my thoughts and I would ask her other friends if anything happened.

Till this very day, the only person that truly knows how deeply in love I am with y/n, is Declan. And I think he’s kind of sick hearing me blabber about how I would gift her the world, the planets and the night sky full of stars just to be with her.

“I know you love her mate but you’re clearly not what she wants.” One day Declan hit me with the realization that I may not be the boy she loves. And it was partially true. I wasn’t. Not until the perfect chance popped up.

It was Valentine’s Day and coincidentally Y/n birthday as well. Everyone in our class knew so her nickname in high school was Mrs. Cupid. They said that she could have whoever she desired. And yet this never happened. The idiot she loved was a scared man who couldn’t handle the portions of love she was showering him with.

It was our class reunion after almost 10 years. Me and y/n knew about the whereabouts of some old classmates so seeing them again would be like a casual hang out. Other hand lost touch so we would be seeing them again after years. Y/n would also be faced with the asshole she had been pinning about.

“How do I look Mase?” She appeared in front of me with a golden sparkly top and a black skirt that was perfectly showing off her figure. Her hair was let down in soft summery curls with lips more red than Manchester’s color. My heart started thumping so fast, I could run a marathon and come back without a hint of sweat. She’s so majestic.

“You’re beautiful darling.” Was all I said with a soft smile on my lips, even though I hid all my true thoughts for her appearance.

“Oh why thank you Mr. Mount. You are very handsome yourself.” I blush at her sweet words. She has an effect on me which I do not try to hide. Unfortunately I know that the reason why she is so insanely beautifully dressed is because he will be there. She would love to have another try. Maybe a final one.

"Shall we get going? You will start getting annoyed with your heels very soon so better be sat than sorry." I point out trying to clear my head from all the intrusive thoughts.

"Oh yes, plus you've got a game tomorrow. We have to come back early." She grabs her purse and we make our way out of her house. I drove all the way to London with my clothes for the party and for the game tomorrow after training so I could be with her from the moment we enter the club.

"You can stay in the party if you like, I will come and pick you up whenever you want me to." I suggest her by letting her get closer to what she desires but instead letting my desire fly away.

"No influence in the world has a priority against you. We will come back home when you call so. I won't risk your sleeping schedule for my silliness." Y/n takes my free hand into hers and caresses it softly. She keeps making it very difficult for me not to maneuver back the car, lock her in her room and shower her with kisses and tell her how much I love her.

"For now let's go have some fun. It will be nice seeing all the faces of our old classmates."

Most of them still live in London. It was me and three other people who lives far away in different cities. Once we arrived at the bar that we had booked, y/n held my arm nervously and I kissed her forehead, wanting to calm her down. She had no reason to worry. Everyone who knew her loved her. It was only him who couldn't love her like she wished.

When I opened the door and our old classmates noticed us, they all ran towards y/n, giving her hugs and compliments about how beautiful she looked. Some of the boys came up to me and greeted me with a few shakes and congratulations for the transfer to Manchester.

As we reached the barline, he was there talking to some of his old friends and y/n eyes immediately widened from worrying. He looked the same to me, I hadn't noticed anything different. I decided to go up to him and chat a bit, given that for y/n to ease there must be a familiar face in presence.

"Look at that, Mason Mount. How are you dude?"

He suddenly got all arrogant or what? He was a quiet, forgettable and tall boy in high school, what changed all of a sudden?

"Good, good. Settling the in the new life in Manchester. How about you?" I try not to sound as pissed as I may look. I eye him up and down once more trying to understand what difference there is.

"Travelling the world every other weekend, I am exhausted. You get the feeling? Home and away games?" Oh he gained soo much confidence over the years that he got annoying as well.

"Definitely, I agree. So what do you do that requires so much traveling?" Last time I remember he wanted to become a driver but god knows if that could get him anywhere at the age he was.

"I work for Mercedes, as their development driver for Formula 1." I almost chocked on my drink. So he did make it as a driver, almost.

"That's amazing. Good for you mate." That's what gave him all the confidence he has I suppose.

"So what about you and y/n, finally got together? I saw her holding your arm, I assumed you're dating." A smirk formed above his eyes, which made my eyes twitch a tad.

"She's my best friend. So no, we are not dating." I so would have loved to say otherwise even if that meant I had to lie, but I couldn't. It would be wrong for y/n.

"Damn, still haven't given up Mount? I admire your determination. If she was as hot as she is now back in the day, I would have made my move." If he utters another word he will die on the hill and I will be arrested but for the sake of y/n I wouldn't care.

"She's always been extremely beautiful. You were just trying to figure out whether you have a dick or not so your focus was on something else." I got a lot of pats on the back and a lot of 'fuck dude' echos in the background.

"If you are so desperate to try and get into her pants why haven't you flashed at her the trophies and the money? Easier path than trying to sway her with your undying love confessions." I couldn't control myself when he said those disgusting things so my only response was to punch him in the face and throw my drink on him as well.

"You don't deserve an ounce of the love she has for you. You don't deserve the charming smiles you would have woken up next to. You don't deserve anything good, fucking piece of shit." He got up immediately and punched me in the gut with all his strength. I stopped breathing with how my lungs were pressed and all his friends were trying to block him from punching me again.

"Who told you I wanted her to like me in the first place? There's a reason why I never asked her out. You can have all her pathetic emotions for yourself. She still begs for someone she liked since high school. You're a goddamn footballer, why are you so obsessed with her?"

When I finally got up on my feet again and gained my senses, I grabbed his collar before anyone could hold me back from going up to him and gave him a deadly look, as if this would be the last time he was breathing and not coughing blood.

"I loved and will continue to love her no matter what. I do not want anyone else and I am willing to compromise for the sake of her happiness. I was tired of watching her chase your pathetic ass when I could have given her all the love she desires. You can have anyone you like but your time with her is over." As I realised that I said that out loud in public, I turned around to see a fully crying y/n, trying to control her sobs and clear her vision.

Her lower lip was quivering and her eyes were on my hands as I was still holding his shirt very violently. I looked deep into her eyes, although she refused to give me even a single glimpse. I had fucked it up majorly.

"Let him go Mason." Her voice has no emotion in it. More blunt than ever. There was no 'Masey' or 'Mase'. It was stern cold. I did as I was told and turned back to face her full blown red cheeks and lips with smeared lipstick. What had I done?

"I am so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have had, but I..." I couldn't finish my sentence as she walked away from the scene and I immediately run after her. No way in hell I was going to stay back.

"I didn't mean to hit him. He was literally asking for it. If you could hear what he said about you, it was horrible. I couldn't just stand there and let him talk so disrespectfully about you." I never let anyone talk in a mean manner about my girl. Even Conor who once called her 'hot' I almost kicked his leg on purpose in practice.

"Did you mean what you said at the bar? Or was this just a show?" I couldn't believe my ears when she said that she believed that this was just a show. Was that what she thought of me?

"Ask anyone I know on this planet. Ask them about you. Ask them what I have said about you. Ask them how much I love you. Ask them how I would take a bullet for you, how I would put my career on the line if it meant to prioritise you. You have no idea how much I cried the night before I left for Manchester. I called Lewis at 3 am in the morning crying, asking him to help me cancel my contract so I could stay in London. Even if that meant trying to force my way back into Chelsea or another club. Do you really think I would punch a guy for any other girl besides you? Because yes y/n, I love you. I truly am madly in love with you. I love you so much it started to pain me. It was heartbreaking seeing you try to be loved by someone who wasn't deserving of your love when I was there, waiting to give you all the love of the world. If you still think this is all a show, then I am deeply sorry. I just want the best for you."

There was so much more to confess and to explain, although it would take me an eternity to prove to her how much she meant to me. Since day one I knew that if someone would be my endgame, it had to be her.

"You are my best friend, you will always be. We share everything with each other. Why did you never say anything about this? What stopped you from telling me how you were feeling? " She came closer to me and cupped my cheeks softly, caressing my rough skin.

"If I lost you because of my feelings, I would have never forgiven myself. God knows how many nights we spend sleeping in each other's embrace and I whispered in your ear how much I was in love with you. I just hoped one day you listened and wake up realising we should be together. But forcing you to love me, wouldn't be right. That is why I never told anything." This could either break my heart or bring me back to life, there's no way back now.

"Mason, I was in love with you before I ever was with him. He was just my reason to bury all the love I had for you. I was scared of admitting anything because your career kept growing and growing and the thought of being in love with you whilst you were playing in another country with a girlfriend I probably wouldn't even like, would keep me up late at night crying."

Her words broke my heart into a million pieces. My y/n was in love with me as well? The girl of my dreams could have been mine for so long and we wouldn't have had to go through this mess? Y/n loved me, oh my god.

"If you allow me, I will love you for the rest of our lives. Whoever you want to end up with, just tell me, will you allow me to give you all the unconditional love I have for you? All that matters to me is that you are happy. As long as you smile, I know I can smile as well." I lowered my head and our foreheads touched, feeling her breath hit on my lips, which were about to capture hers but I held back for a moment.

"I don't want to be loved by anyone else but you, Mason Tony Mount. If I want to be with someone, I want that person to be you. I want to share my life and love I have with you. We could have been happy now if we both weren't so scared to admit our feelings." I can feel her tears running down my hands as I was trying to bring her face closer to mine.

"Better late than never, am I right?" I took the chance and captured her lips in a full of years of emotions kiss, softer than the touch of clouds but with more love than cupid's arrows. My heart has finally found the pace it will beat when I am with her. It will beat faster than a thousand hearts combined and will be full of happiness.