#waitress in 2004

[reliablebearoftinysea]

eating out now feels very quiet, isolated. even though you are outside.

You seat yourself, scan a qr code for the menu and order. And pay all from your phone. Finish your meal and then clearing the table by bringing your dirty plates to the self service tray area. You only say thank you and exchange smiles to each one staff who bring your food and coffee.

My favourite memory while waitressing part time while finishing my gce is running to tables, small talk with the customer while walking them to the table. Asking about their day. Some times tease their children or compliment the lady’s bracelet. Putting in the order and hear the kitchen staff start to get busy. Walking around the restaurant, just making myself available for any help or assistance. Running back to the small kitchen window when you hear the bell ding. And sometimes, when there is ALOT of order, just between you and your colleagues, we see who can carry the most plates out to the table without any accidents. ☺️ especially when they alphabet a whole round of rice serving , I think my record was 7 or 8..? 7 sounds more accurate 😌

Go around with tap water for the table. Pick out used cutleries from the table. Dirty plates places on the side. Asking the customer for food feedbacks. Running to the back to wash off the remanants of food from your arm. Looking into the mirror to see your coloured contact lensed eye and smiling. Going back out to get some water to hydrate. Nudging the barkeep girl for some sweet drinks or juice.

Was those just better days when earning $1300 was a lot? Or is technology just making people more detached ?

Maybe I’m just lonelier than usual…

I wonder if my period is coming 🥹

[rateatinginsulation]

Bad idea chainshipping animatic urghhh....

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[datcowboyskeleton]

Inspired by @thatoneteen ! :)

(I’m not trying to get notes or attention, I just keep putting off watching these and I need a push so I’m using this method)((Basically I’m a bad theatre kid cause I procrastinate and want help))

From the amount of notes I get, I’ll watch the musical/movie!

And yes my thoughts will be linked!

Please feel free to leave any extra suggestions, I’d love to see more!

100 Notes: Spamalot

200 Notes: Tuck Everlasting

300 Notes: Fly By Night

400 Notes: Mean Girls 2004

500 Notes: Mean Girls 2024

600 Notes: Mean Girls Broadway

700 Notes: Heathers

800 Notes: Six

900 Notes: Hamilton

1000 Notes: Be More Chill

1100 Notes: Hadestown

1200 Notes: In The Heights

1300 Notes: West Side Story Movie

1400 Notes: West Side Story Musical

1500 Notes: Legally Blonde Movie

1600 Notes: Legally Blonde Musical

1700 Notes: Les Mis Movie

1800 Notes: Les Mis Musical

1900 Notes: Tick, Tick… Boom!

2000 Notes: Waitress

[unnecessaryligatures]

Psych (TV) and Same-Sex Marriage in California

While rewatching Psych, I have been thinking about what audiences today versus audiences at the time would have thought about the references to the issue of same-sex marriage, and what it says about voting this November.

(This post contains some spoilers for Psych Seasons 3 and 6.)

A lot happened in California related to same-sex marriage while Psych was airing. In 2004 (two years before the show began), same-sex marriage was briefly legal for one month, though the licenses issued were later voided. It became legal again in June 2008 for a little over four months until Proposition 8 was passed that November, which modified the California Constitution to make the definition of marriage be between a man and a woman. This time, marriage licenses issued in 2008 remained valid.

Psych Season 3 started airing in July 2008. So all of this would have been on people's minds during 3x11 "Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing" when Drimmer sets Shawn and Lassiter up to be "former lovers" in their murder-suicide note.

Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional in August 2010, though this ruling was not final until 2013, when same-sex marriages were again permitted.

6x3 "This Episode Sucks" is when we learn that Lassiter's mom Mona has been with her girlfriend Althea since Lassiter left for the academy, and he keeps a framed photo of them in his apartment:

This episode aired in October 2011. Mona and Althea's right to marry would have very much been in limbo while the appeals worked their way through the courts.

The final episode of Season 6, 6x16 "Santabarbaratown," contains this scene, where our waitress identifies herself as an ally:

That episode aired in April 2012. Prop 8 was still very much on people's minds.

The final season of Psych (Season 8) finished airing in January of 2014, shortly after same-sex couples were again allowed to marry in California.

In 2015, same-sex marriage was finally legalized US-wide, overriding state constitutions on the subject. (If Obergefell v. Hodges were overturned, state constitutions would again take precedence.)

However, the California Constitution still technically defines marriage as being between one man and one woman, thanks to Prop 8. This year (2024), there is a vote on the ballot to finally remove that language from the California Constitution.

So, the issues LGBTQ+ Californians (and the Psych characters) faced while Psych was airing are still very much relevant when you cast your vote this November.

[yanderederee]

DoubleDate,

May14th, 2004

a/n: lol, I wrote this Before MeetMyGang, so details regarding readers first time on a bike aren’t accurate anymore, buuut I don’t think anyone cares~:)

Before! › here! › after!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

You’d admired Baji for a long time now.

He was scary, and strong enough to do anything he put his mind to. He prioritized the people important to him, and took everything involving his loved ones very seriously. He was gentle to creatures weaker than him, and took them under his protection. Baji was sincere and dedicated in everything he did.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t a bad guy. And you loved him so much.

Baji, on the other hand, was having a hard time coming to terms with how he felt about you.

But he couldn’t push down the wonderment you always left him feeling after an encounter. You were his friend, no question. But you were so fragile. Meeker than the punks he usually rode with.

Keisuke still couldn’t admit it, but you’d successfully stolen his heart.

“Dude, invite her out or something. It’s summer break, you won’t see her for another month.”

“I didn’t even say anything?” Baji glared questionably at his blond friend.

“Didn’t have do. You’ve been mopping around all week. Probably because—“

“Chose your next words carefully Matsuno,” Baji cut in monotone. Chifuyu puffed his cheeks. “Fine fine,” he backed off, stretching from his previous spot as Peke J’s bed. “See ya then.” He waved off, throwing his bag over his shoulder and headed to the door.

“Oi! What for?” Baji complained.

Sure he had a lot of better shit he could be doing with his time. He could go to Akihabara for the weekend while his mom was gone. He could ride out anywhere he really wanted to and enjoy the summer time he earned. That you helped him earn.

“Why, i thought you were too busy moping around to notice.” Chifuyu joked without malice. After, he quipped his brand new phone out with a wide grin. “And if you’re ever so curious, Y/nnchan just invited me out to meet at the cat cafe.~”

The first division captain stared at his vice underling with a deep mix of emotion. He could identify one of those complicated feelings as jealousy.

You asked to hang out with Chifuyu? Baji looked over at the vibrant screen of Chifuyu’s phone, barely making out your name. Pink and blue bubbles littered the screen. “When did you get her number in the first place?”

“Not too many of the guys have phones, so Mom, Ryoko and Y/n are my only contacts right now.”

Baji suddenly really wanted a cellphone.

“So, you coming or what?” Chifuyu asked, throwing Baji a balled up pair of black socks. “Why would I come?” He grumbled out.

“Cause she asked me to invite you~” Chifuyu grinned wickedly. His heart stopped for a moment.

“Hurry up or I’m gonna tell her you bailed!” Chifuyu yelled before darting out of the apartment. “Damnit! Hold on you son of a bitch!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

When the two managed to get to the cat cafe, they were already ten minutes early for the agreed meeting time. “Oh, party of three? Booth 9, enjoy!” The waitress purred once they entered. Confused, they looked over and saw you looking over the menu.

“You’re early!” Chifuyu laughed when he was first to enter the booth. “Chi! Yeah, haha, I was here when I texted you actually.” Your eyes darted over to Baji, happiness spread across your features. “Kei! So happy you came!”

Baji avoided making eye contact, sure to out himself shy if he did. “The hell? Cute~,” Chifuyu laughed again, his comment clearly coming off as more than friendly. Baji felt heat prickle his ears at this point. Was he trying to provoke him?

You laughed at Chifuyu’s comment, and held the menu out to the both of them. “I ordered a few appetizers already, the frushi is actually the specialty of the day!” You chirped along the menu with excitement.

Well, if nothing else, Chifuyu wasn’t a liar. You really were so cute. A little weird and outgoing, but so, undeniably cute.

“I’ll probably get an order of gyoza.” Baji thought out loud, lazily holding the menu in front of him.

Chifuyu ordered a blue ramune poured over a lemonlime soda.

Baji ordered a black cherry soda with a subtle vanilla cream mix rested at the bottom.

And after much deliberation, you decided on a rich brown-sugar milk tea.

“It’s a little surprising how much cats love you, Kei.” You admitted. “No kidding, strays far and wide can’t get enough of him. Baji actually always leaves his bedroom window open for—” Chifuyu went along praising his captain, ultimately leading to his embarrassed captain to cut him off abruptly.

“Oh yeah!! Didn’t you say you had a cat, Chi?” You asked.

“Oh yeah, Peke J! He’s adventurous, and visits with Baji more than he’s actually home. I bet he’d really like you.”

Baji just couldn’t put his finger on it. Chifuyu was just being friendly, yet somehow he was getting under his skin like never before. “Yaknow, Baji and I actually talked about opening a pet shop in the future!”

You beamed in response to the topic, gaze fluttering between the two delinquents. “A pet store?” You asked, nibbling on a gyoza.

Chifuyu glanced over at Baji, hoping he’d jump into the conversation.

This was his role after all, the perfect natural wingman.

Unfortunately, Baji only saw the situation for its surface level; Chifuyu was blatantly flirting with you for the both of them, Right in front of him.

Baji glared a little bit, and shrugged. “Nah, Mikey‘s talkin about seriously applying himself to motor racing. Sounds sweet,” he grinned his canines.

Chifuyu gaped at his answer. Was he trying to look cool? Was he seriously that oblivious to romantic ques?

Yet, ever the same look of amazement, you smiled back. “Motor racing?! I totally forgot that’s like, your guys’ thing, motor bikes!” You visibly prickle with excitement. “I’ve never been close to one actually. They’re really loud and kinda scary from what I see, but you guys use them all the time right?”

The both of them gaped at your reaction. “They seem pretty cool.” You laughed almost awkwardly, Almost as if to let out a hint, but ready to retract at any sign of uncomfortability.

Chifuyu looked at his captain, the stars glaring over his vision obvious. “Baji’s bike is sick! A Suzuki GSX250E! With an attached second seater. He won’t admit it but he saved up a bunch so I could ride alongside him to Toman meetings.” He praised his captains generosity openly again.

“Yer full of shit,” Baji laughed, “I had that thing way before you.”

“How thoughtful! Chifuyu’s pretty new to the gang, so you haven’t saved up enough for a bike yet, right?” You asked Chifuyu, the eye contact you shared making Baji feel a little … possessive? “I’m doing very good saving up for one!” Chifuyu perked up, eager. The only other person he could brag these hobbies with was Kazutora, after all.

“You have a bike model in mind?” You asked, tilting your head, as you allowed an all-white rag doll cat affectionately demand your attention. Baji rose a brow, your choice of words making him curious. “How much you know about bikes?”

You giggled sheepishly, hiding your face in the cats fur. “J-just a little. I just, got a little curious, s-so I learned a few neat facts,” you waved this off quickly, and drew the attention back to one of them. “I really don’t know much besides what a book would tell you. Are you trying to shop for speed or style?”

To you, it seemed like a genuinely honest and curious question. To them, they had finally found something to hold over your smart little head. Something they knew all about, and for you to be clueless!

“Baji goes for speed. I’m thinking as long as I can keep up, I might as well aim for something flashy!” Chifuyu admitted with pride.

“Oi, don’t talk down about my Goki like that! It looks cool as hell,” Baji kicked the blonde affectionately.

“Actually, that makes me wonder, how do you guys even get your bikes? They’re like, triple digit thousand yen. Do you all just have jobs or something?” You asked while more felines covered what was visible of you.

Chifuyu plucks one of the cats what began to claw biscuits into your exposed skin, and cradled it in his arms lovingly.

Baji struggled, stuffing his face with a third gyoza. “My bike didn’t really ride when I first found it. A real piece of junk. But I brought the pieces to Shin and asked if he could make it drivable.”

“Guess it wasn’t in that bad o’f shape. Polished up the framework and helped put the parts together, baby was driving the next two months.”

“So Mikey’s brother spotted you the cost to restore your shitty bike?” Chifuyu teased. “Asshole! I paid with physical labor for that bike!” Baji pushed.

Putting the context clues together, you asked without filter, “Shin sounds like a nice guy, helping you restore a bike so willingly. Maybe he could give you tips, Chifuyu.”

The atmosphere got deathly quiet.

No one wanted to say anything, evident on Baji’s hardened expression and Chifuyu being visibly nervous. “He’s dead,” Baji said finally, no indication to continue.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” you say quietly, briefly lowering your head to show your condolences. “Based on how you speak of him, Mikey seems to take after him. What does he drive?” You asked, making an attempt to sweep the rough atmosphere away.

To you, it seemed as though the subject of Shinichiro’s passing was an unpleasant one. You felt it impolite to pry.

Baji looks you over, noticing your calm demeanor as you handled the tense answer he just gave. He was used to people acting nervous around him if he wasn’t careful. But he liked feeling as though he didn’t need to filter his words to appear kinder, when he simply didn’t want to talk about it. Baji really liked the way you always treated him so kindly, accepting his sharp attitude without taking it personally.

“A Honda. CB250t.” Baji answered without reluctance. He didn’t mean to come off prickly, but the pause insinuated otherwise.

You began thinking something over in your head, before a cat pounced to get your attention, making you shriek with laughter.

“Sorry sorry,” you apologize to the jealous cat, divvying out a generous handful of treats. This distraction seemed to serve as a middle point of the lunch. Drinks were about finished, food demolished, and the sun was still high in the sky.

Chifuyu yawned, and stretched his limbs. “Way too nice to just go back home though,” he admitted, tossing his head in Baji’s direction. “What’s everybody else doing?”

Baji reciprocated the yawn, and rested his head on the back of the chair. His eyes were focused on you as you played so joyously with the cats. He couldn’t get over just how cute he thought you were. He’d be damned if he said that out loud though.

Not realizing he had went silent, Baji lost himself in through, gaze softened your way. He was so used to his obnoxious glasses blocking this lovestruck look, he found himself doing it again without them.

Chifuyu took note of this, getting mild second hand embarrassment from how oblivious Baji was.

Chifuyu wanted to feel grateful that, at least, you were too distracted by the cats to notice his captain’s affectionate stare. Except, when he glanced over at you, Chifuyu saw a twinkle of something in your eye.

You knew Baji was staring at you. And by acting as though you didn’t notice, you soak in the unintentional affection, with a blush and a smile.

Chifuyu felt his heart rate Racing at this point. This was The Most silent, yet intense, atmosphere of backhanded flirting, without so much as eye contact to fuel the flames.

The waitress had made her rounds by this point, clearing the table of everything, and asking you three if you would like anything to go. “I’d like to order two shortcakes, and three lemon iced teas please! One yuzu, rose, and lavender.” You agreed, while Chifuyu added a specialty lemonade on the to go order.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you admitted while the three of you gathered your bearings. “Any plans?” You asked, giving no credit to Chifuyu’s exact same question that’d went ignored earlier.

Baji shruggled. “Nah. All that talk about bikes for me itching to ride, though.” He smirked.

Baji liked you, he really did. This whole time, he had made an effort to push you to not get too close. But this moment, covered in cat hair, disheveled and smiling so affectionately. Baji couldn’t help but ask,

“How bout it? You think modified bikes are cool, how bout taking a ride on one?”

The way your face lit up at his question blinded the two delinquents. “Really?!” You asked, clearly excited. “Well don’t get all misty eyed!” Baji blared back, embarrassed.

Once the three of you had gotten your to go orders, you all made way back to their apartment complex to pick up Baji’s bike and keys.

Being the sweet little thing you were, you bashful admitted the to-go order you placed was actually meant for their mothers. “Moms like it when you get them a little treat, to show your gratitude!” You reasoned with their confused response.

The first stop came to Chifuyu’s apartment, since it was two floors below Baji’s.

Chifuyu sighed, a little embarrassed at the way you chatted so openly and casually with his mom.

“She probably thinks y/n’s my girlfriend, she always jumps to conclusions like that.”

It was quiet when Baji didn’t give a reaction. He’d planned on simply waiting patiently for you to finish. He could help but notice the way you chatted this same way with his own mom.

“Guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” Chifuyu whispered by accident. Your conversation with Chifuyu’s mom died out from Keisuke’s ears, the only thing he could register was Chifuyu’s whispered words.

He knew he was overthinking it, so like everything else, he pushed the thought down, even if it did bother him.

“Well, I wanted to drop off the lavender tea and cake! I’m glad to know you’re well!” You went to wave your goodbye. “Finally we can go!” Baji grinned, hyping up his spirit to ride. “Not so fast,” you shook your head at him. “Still gatta drop off the cake and tea I got for your mom!”

Baji was stunned once again. He really did try having patience with you, but damn were you making it difficult. Without argument though, the two boys followed you to the sixth floor.

“Y/n!! I’m so happy to see you,” Ryoko sighed with contentment when she’d successfully tucked under her arm in a big hug. “Jeez, glad she doesn’t greet me that way,” Baji mumbled to Chifuyu, who laughed in response. “Cake and tea? I knew you were my favorite kid,” she took a sip of the yuzu lemon iced tea.

“Hate to remind you that I’m an only child, hag,” Baji bit back. “Gonna change; the cat hair’s starting to itch.” He rolled his eyes, leaving Chifuyu alone with the girls. “So, how’s my second favorite kid?” Ryoko asks with comical volume, aimed in Chifuyu’s direction. Chifuyu chuckled at the muffled “shut up!” that came out of Baji’s room, holding up the keys to Baji’s Suzuki.

“She’s never been on a bike before, so Baji’s gonna take Y/n riding before the meet up tonight.”

“Oi, Kei! You be careful!” She yelled seriously, sashaying over to the spare coat closet. “Do you have an extra helmet?” She asked, earning an annoyed grunt from her teenage son.

“Yes, I have an extra helmet-“ he tried agreeing with her, “is it clean?” She asked, making Baji pause his response. “…Who was the last to wear it again?”

Ryoko sighed, and pulled down a dark purple cycle helmet. “Please wear this,” she asked you, holding the sturdy plastic into your hand. “I used to wear it when I’d go out riding. ‘Long as you and Kei stay friends, use it for me, alright?”

Needlessly sentimental, you hugged her as you’d accepted the helmet before your exit.

“Where do you usually keep your bike?” you asked, aware that parking one’s bike at home can be dangerous. “Theres a cheap parking garage down the street.” Baji nodded in the direction of the garage when the turn came up.

Once making it in, the three of you circled the bike in admiration. “It’s nice,” you hummed, modestly squatting to checkout the details of the bike. “It’s okay if I touch right?” You asked.

Nervously, Baji squats beside you and made a gesture to show it was fine to do so. Ever so gently, you traced your fingers along the exhaust pipe, as though you would peel away the metal to look further inside. Quietly, you hummed, and examined the parts most visible. “It’s big though, I don’t think my feet can reach the peddle..”

Both Baji and Chifuyu laughed. “You thought i was gonna just let you ride my bike like that?” He asked as though it wasn’t even a consideration. “Huh? Is that not what you meant earlier?” You asked, embarrassed. Baji laughed again, barely making it to his feet.

“You dork! I was just gonna drive you around some backroads.” He ruffled your hair roughly. You gave a sheepish “oh” before looking away in embarrassment. “W-well, that’s fine.” You said, a little shyer this time.

Chifuyu’s eye glinted from your wit.

Chifuyu could read you like the back of his hand, a feat Baji was clearly oblivious to. By acting shy, you automatic lit a flame of nervousness under Keisuke’s idea of a platonic activity. You were hinting at the exposure—tiptoeing that line of flirtation neither of you quite crossed.

And Baji fell for your tricks like a lovesick fool, suddenly bashful and confused for as to why.

“What ‘bout you Chi?” You asked, lining the scene with a comfortable middle ground between both boys. Body language gave away you still tried including Chifuyu, as to not kick him out as an unnecessary third wheel.

“Kinda itchy with cat hair, honestly. Think I’m gonna take a shower and check out what Ryusei’s doing. Catch ya later?” He asked.

It was Chifuyu’s turn to finally let go of the reins; he’d secretly initiated the date, lead the conversation, and got you two to this point. His job was complete. Satisfied, he turned to walk away. “Wait,” you pulled on Chifuyu’s sleeve, subconsciously making the boy lean into your cupped hand. “Thanks for today, it meant a lot to me.” And with an innocent kiss to the corner of his lip and cheek, you doddled back to Baji, who’d bucking his heel against the kick Stand.

Chifuyu wouldn’t stop thinking about that chast kiss you gave him. How soft it was. How precise your movemeets were— you had Meant to kiss him where you had. Not enough to consider romantic, but definitely a forewarning that it could have been. He was swimming in those thoughts, even when he watched you and Baji plow down the street happily.

Was he seriously falling in love with his Boss’s crush?

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[the-offside-rule]

The Rom-Com Matserlist ♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

In which, your faves star in the lead romantic leads in iconic rom-com scenarios

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The WAG au Masterlist ☆

The College/Work au ◇

Rules to requesting

Feel free to request x

Set It Up (2019) - Rodrigo Riquelme (Atletico Madrid)

Set It Up romantic comedy about two overworked assistants, who try to set up their demanding bosses in hopes of getting a break from their stressful jobs. As their matchmaking schemes unfold, the pair grow closer, leading to unexpected romantic sparks between them.

How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days (2003) - Lando Norris (McLaren)

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is a rom-com about a magazine writer tasked with driving a man away in ten days for an article, and an advertising executive who bets he can make any woman fall in love with him within the same timeframe. As they each try to achieve their conflicting goals, their tactics lead to humorous misunderstandings and unexpected chemistry, complicating their plans.

She's All That (1999) - Hector Fort (FCBarcelona)

She’s All That is a teen romantic comedy about high schooler who, after being dumped by his popular girlfriend, makes a bet that he can turn any girl into the next prom queen. He chooses the shy and artistic student, as his target. As he helps transform her appearance, he begins to genuinely fall for her, realizing there’s more to her than he initially saw.

A Cinderella Story (2004) - Alejandro Garnacho (Manchester United)

A Cinderella Story is a modern retelling of the classic fairy tale, following a high school student mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters after her father’s death. Secretly, she exchanges messages online with a mysterious boy who turns out to be the school’s popular quarterback. When they arrange to meet at a Halloween dance, her identity is hidden by a mask, and she flees before he discovers who she is. As he tries to find his Cinderella, she learns to stand up for herself and fight for her own happy ending.

Bridget Jones Diary (2001) - Francisco Trinc��o (Sporting Club de Portugal) & João Félix (Chelsea)

Bridget Jones’s Diary follows the life of a single, self-conscious woman who decides to take control of her life by starting a diary to document her goals and misadventures. Juggling her crush on her charming but unreliable boss, and her growing attraction to the seemingly aloof yet kind man whom she apparently knew when she was a child, she finds herself caught in a humorous and heartfelt love triangle. Through ups and downs, she learns to embrace her imperfections and discover what she truly wants. [Please request two athletes for this, as I need a Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver]

10 Things I Hate About You (1999) - Franco Colapinto

10 Things I Hate About You is a teen romantic comedy inspired by Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. It follows an outspoken and independent girl who has little interest in dating, and her younger sister, who can only date if her older sister does. To solve this dilemma, a boy who likes the younger suster pays the rebellious troublemaker to whoo the elder of the sister. As their relationship grows, real feelings emerge, complicating their plans.

50 First Dates (2004) - Marc Casado (FCBarcelona)

50 First Dates is a romantic comedy about a regular man who falls for a special woman with short-term memory loss that causes her to forget each day by the next morning. To win her heart, he must make her fall in love with him anew every day, devising creative ways to remind her of their connection. As his dedication grows, he learns the importance of patience, resilience, and unconditional love.

The Wedding Singer (1998) - Roberto Lewandowski (FCBarcelona) & Raphinha (FCBarcelona)

The Wedding Singer is a romantic comedy set in the 1980s, centered on a charming wedding singer who’s heartbroken after being left at the altar. While struggling to move on, he meets a kind waitress engaged to an unfaithful fiancé. As he helps her to plan her wedding, the two grow close and develop feelings for each other. [Please request two athletes as I need one as the main love interest and the fiancee]

Pretty Woman (1990) - Carlos Sainz (Williams)

Pretty Woman is a romantic comedy about a kind-hearted Hollywood sex worker, and a wealthy but emotionally distant businessman. When he hires her to accompany him to high-society events for a week, they develop an unexpected bond that challenges both of their worlds. As they spend time together, she inspires him to see life differently, while he helps her envision a new future for herself.

When Harry Met Sally (1989) - Lance Stroll (Astok Martin)

When Harry Met Sally is a romantic comedy that explores the evolving friendship over several years. After a contentious car ride from Chicago to New York, they meet again and debate whether men and women can be just friends. As they navigate relationships and personal growth, their bond deepens, leading to a heartfelt realization about love.

Anyone But You (2023) - Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing)

*Anyone But You* is a romantic comedy about two hopeless romantics, whose initial spark quickly fizzles after a disastrous first date. However, they later find themselves attending the same destination wedding in Australia. Despite their mutual distaste, they agree to fake a romantic relationship for the sake of appearances, leading to unexpected comedic situations and revealing new dimensions in their connection.

The Notebook (2004) - Anthony Gordon (Newcastle)

The Notebook follows Noah and Allie, two young lovers from different social backgrounds who meet one summer in the 1940s. Despite obstacles from her wealthy family, their deep bond endures across years of separation and personal growth. Told through him as an elderly man reading their story to his wife who he fell in love with, who suffers from dementia, the story captures themes of enduring love and memory.

Something From Tiffany's (2022) - Leandro Trossard (Arsenal)

In Something from Tiffany's, a mix-up at Tiffany’s leads to unexpected romance and self-discovery. Rachel, a bakery owner, mistakenly receives an engagement ring that Ethan meant for his girlfriend, Vanessa. As Rachel and Ethan’s paths continue to cross, they begin to question their current relationships. Eventually, the romantic mix-up becomes a catalyst for both characters to find what they truly want, bringing them closer together in an unexpected, holiday-themed love story filled with warmth and charm【18†source】【19†source】.

Notting Hill (1999) - Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona)

Notting Hill centers on a humble London bookstore owner, whose life is upended when he falls for a famous actress. Their romance faces challenges from her fame and the pressures of the public eye, yet their connection deepens as they navigate misunderstandings, insecurities, and moments of humor in the quaint London neighborhood of Notting Hill.

*Once the movie is gone, so is the athlete with it*

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

maggie any movie suggestions that give off vibes of your hotd stories? desperately need to fill the hole before you drop another banger!! 😤😤😤😤

Oh, interesting!!! I do actually have some movies/shows that I associate with my fics, I'll share them below 🥰

Martyrs: Civil War (2024), Dawn Of The Dead (2004), The Walking Dead (Seasons 1-3)

1968: Mad Men (Seasons 6-7), Rosemary's Baby (1968), Walk The Line (2005)

Napoleonville: Waitress (2007), The Crown (Season 4), You've Got Mail (1998), Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

WTWICD: Seven Pounds (2008), The Dark Knight (2008), Gladiator (2000), Me Before You (2016)

Comet: One Direction: This Is Us (2013), Interstellar (2014)

NICIY: The Tudors (Season 1), The White Queen

NTTF: Good Will Hunting (1997), Snow Dogs (2002), I've been told that this fic is Grey's Anatomy coded and I guess I kind of see it?? (Seasons 1-2)

HYNITYID: I truly don't have any, I was possessed by a demon when I wrote this

And as a little bonus, here are some movies/shows I associate with my 💎 Mysterious New Fic 💎: The Knick (Season 1), Crimson Peak (2015), Titanic (1997), Sleeping With The Enemy (1991)

Thank you for already assuming it will be a banger 🥹🥰

[abwwia]

Patti Smith (Patricia Lee Smith, born Chicago 1946)

Self-portrait

New York 2003/2005

New York 2001/2003

Gelatin silver prints

Inventory 1890 nn. 10571, 10570

Self-portrait

Alexandria, Egypt 2009

Charléville 2004

Gelatin silver prints

Inventory 1890 nn. 10573, 10572

Patti Smith was born on 30 December 1946 in Chicago, daughter of Beverly, a waitress and jazz singer, and Grant, a factory worker. In 1967 she moved to New York—in those years the centre of a cultural revolution that in one decade transformed music, literature, customs and sexual behaviour around the world. It was here that Patti met Robert Mapplethorpe, destined to become one of the greatest American photographers of the 20th century, and formed a strong personal and artistic bond with him, which was to be a determining factor in her life. The two live as bohemians, constantly changing friendships and homes, growing up together in life and art at the Chelsea Hotel, the historic New York residence of writers, musicians, actors and artists. Patti earns her living working in a bookstore, takes up acting, writes poetry and a play, and performs musical readings. She writes songs. Her name becomes widespread on the “underground” circuit. In November 1975 she released her debut album ‘Horses’, which consecrated her success, making her the muse of many influential artists of the rock scene. Source Uffizi Gallery

[unknown171204]

Starmania 1979

The French singer, author and composer Michel Berger one day heard about a surprising news item . Patricia Campbell Hearst, the daughter of a billionaire, kidnapped by terrorists ended up joining their movement out of love for one of her kidnappers !

This true story will fascinate him, to the point of starting an album inspired by this story :

This will be the “Angelina Dumas” project .

Ultimately the album never saw the light of day and only one song that remained of Berger's work remained that he recorded as a duet with his wife France Gall :

Frustrated by what he considers to be a failure, Michel will not let go of what he thinks (rightly) is a good artistic vein

thanks to his wife who will make him meet the Canadian singer Diane Dufresne, Michel will work with her lyricist Luc Plamondon with whom he created the most famous rock opera in France :

The story takes place in an undated future (despite a now outdated reference to the year 2000 and the 80s) Humans now live in underground galleries redeveloped into a huge city called Monopolis. The only mirage of happiness for ordinary citizens is the number 1 television show "Starmania" where everyone can become a star for one night .

We simultaneously follow the lives and actions of several characters :

Johnny Rockfort : A young anarchist leader of the terrorist group " les étoiles noires " ( the black stars )

Sadia : A transvestite student co-creator of " les étoiles noires "

Marie Jeanne : The depressed waitress who works at the " Underground café "

Ziggy : A mythomaniac and ambitious homosexual record store owner

Cristal : The host of Starmania

Stella Spotlight : A sex symbol on the decline

Zéro Janvier : An extremist politician running for became president

Gourou Marabout : An extremist politician also competing in the presidential election

Roger-Roger : the TV presenter

Brilliantly the duo Berger / Plamondon went out of their way to organize the broadcast of a special television program in 1978 in order to present the songs to as many people as possible :

The show was performed for a short month , only 33 performances at the Palais des Congrès , but it is considered one of the greatest French musicals

DISTRIBUTION :

Daniel Balavoine : Johnny Rockfort

France Gall : Cristal

Fabienne Thibeault : Marie-Jeanne

Étienne Chicot : Zéro Janvier

Diane Dufresne : Stella Spotlight

Grégory Ken : Ziggy

Nanette Workman : Sadia

Roddy Julienne : le Gourou

René Joly : Roger-Roger

Due to his short presence on stage, the show did not have the right to a complete recording (it is today considered a highly sought after lost media) but fortunately the audio of the show has available in its entirety !

To get an idea of ​​the visual identity of the show I had to dig into the TV archives :

The repetitions :

Full live audio of the show :

한국어 자막과 함께 :

Single :

Monopolis / Quand on arrive en ville / Le blues du business man / La complainte de la serveuse automate / Ziggy / Le monde est stone

But the most memorable song is " SOS d'un terrien en détresse "

A song renowned for its difficulty and which launched the career of Daniel Balavoine then, years later, that of Star Academy 2004 winner Grégory Lemarchal :

ANECDOTES :

The original album contains two songs missing from the final show :

Petite Musique terrienne Part 2

L'air de l'extraterrestre

This extraterrestrial is a deleted character who only appeared physically in two production ( Francis Martin in 1980 and Marc Gabriel in 1986 , in this last version we discovered that Roger-Roger was in reality an alien ) the song, or rather its theme, will be recycled in several subsequent versions .

The show also contains several unreleased and missing songs from the album that will never be reused !!

La serveuse et les clients

Jingle de Stella

Sex shops , cinéma porno

Les parents de Cristal

Le tango de l'amour et de la mort

...

Claude Dubois (the original voice of Zéro Janvier) is the only one of the singers present on the album who did not reprise the role on stage, unfortunately it was because of his drug addiction, he took his revenge in 1989 when he replaced Richard Groulx on stage ( thanks to miss-starmania for the archive picture and additional information )

...

Michel Berger abandons his role of Grand Gourou to Roddy Julienne without any explanation ?!

...

In this version, in addition to randomly attacking wealthy people in the street, scratching their cars and raping girls in parking lots, les étoiles noires of 79 are a bit more extreme than in the other versions … Roger Roger specifies that the terrorists deliberately disconnected the oxygen ventilation of an entire neighborhood, killing all the residents ! This free murder will be deleted from other versions

...

The name Johnnie Rockfort (a complicated pun to translate which can mean "strong rock'n'roll " or just the cheese of the same name ? ) is perhaps not a coincidence , the producer of the show Roland Hubert, not being convinced by Balavoine, completely unknown at the time, he fought (in vain) with Berger so that the role was offered to the rocker Johnny Halliday

...

According to the memories of France Gall, during one of the performances a disgruntled spectator had fun whistling throughout the show exhausting Daniel Balavoine who patiently waited for the curtain call to jump into the audience to beat him up while he was still wearing his bulky costume ( the one below )

...

France Gall speaks about the show :

For more Starmania or to discover other French musicals I invite you to follow the path of my main masterlist to learn more about French musicals and their stories :

[owlservice]

SARS-CoV wasn’t gone, it was only hiding. [...] Like an aftershock to a quake, a new case broke in Guangdong. Soon afterward, three more. One patient was a waitress who had been exposed to a civet. On January 5, 2004, the day the first case was confirmed, Guangdong authorities reversed policy again, ordering the death and disposal of every masked palm civet held at a farm or a market in the province. Wild civets were another question, left unanswered. [...] During the days that followed, more than a thousand captive civets were suffocated, burned, boiled, electrocuted, and drowned. It was like a medieval pogrom against satanic cats. This campaign of extermination seemed to settle the matter and made people more comfortable. That sense of comfort remained for, oh, a year or more—until other scientists showed that the doubts about reservoir identification were well-founded, that the judicious language of Guan Yi was percipient, and that the story was just a little deeper and more complicated. Woops, civets aren’t the reservoir of SARS. Never mind.

Regarding SARS-COV-1, the coronavirus that causes SARS, from Spillover: Animal Infections and the Next Human Pandemic (2012) by David Quammen

[risingwolf97]

I'd just like to take the time to remind people that today is the 15th anniversary of Walt Disney's "The Princess and the Frog". Disney's 49th overall animated release and the first theatrical film since 2004's 'Home on the Range' to be completely 2-D animated. Set in New Orleans during the 1920s, the film tells the story of a hardworking waitress named Tiana who dreams of opening her own restaurant. After kissing prince Naveen, who has been turned into a frog by the evil voodoo witch doctor Facilier, Tiana becomes a frog as well and the two must find a way to turn human again before it is too late. This film was released on December 11th, 2009. It was a qualified success at the box office: it somewhat underperformed Disney's targets yet finished in first place in North America on its opening weekend and grossed around $271 million worldwide (becoming, in the process, Disney’s most successful traditionally animated film since Lilo & Stitch in 2002). It received three Oscar nominations at the 82nd Academy Awards: one for Best Animated Feature and two for Best Original Song.

Again, to remind people. This movie gave us Disney's FIRST (and so far only) canon black Princess. This was my eldest niece's favorite movie for a while in 2010. Man it doesn't feel like this was 15 years ago...

[seriessociety]

Who Is Sophie Rain??

Sophie Rain’s rise to fame is a testament to resilience. Born on September 22, 2004, in Miami, Florida, Sophie grew up in a financially struggling family. Relying on food stamps and dreaming of a better life, Sophie never imagined she would one day be a viral influencer. At 20, she now boasts over 12 million followers across TikTok and Instagram.

Her journey to stardom wasn’t planned. Sophie initially dreamed of becoming an astronaut or doctor, but after working as a waitress at 17 to support her family, her life took a turn when her TikTok content went viral in 2023. Her sister, Sierra, who is also an influencer, helped Sophie’s presence grow even more.

One of her most touching acts was paying off her parents’ $15,000 property tax debt. Sophie has faced her share of controversies, including rumors about relationships with Adin Ross and NLE Choppa, but she continues to focus on creating content that inspires others.

Sophie’s story proves that with determination and a strong sense of family, you can overcome any obstacle and achieve your dreams.

[rosebarry16]

Saira Wright's childhood

Warning : strong language, Mention of light gore, Mention of depression and insecurities

☆☆☆

Saira wright was born in Hong Kong, Japan, on 5th of March 1999 in Queen mary Hospital. Aiko wright the mother gave birth to saira at the age of 19 years old. Her mother at the time has severe depression for almost her teenage years not finding the beauty of life often, however saira fixed her problem and promised her daughter that she'll always be with her every step of the way...for now. Mikai wright, her father loves saira since the day Aiko announced her pregnancy and happy to have a daughter.

In 2003, saira is always exposed to her Japanese culture and always curious and playful. Her love for butterflies and stuffed animals were endless, especially mister hops her stuffed bunny and Mr cookies her teddy. Aiko would be busy with saira teaching her basics of life and best education.

In 2004 when saira turned 5 years old, she loves to play pretend alot and sometimes she plays it with Mikai, the most pretend she played as is a scecertary. She always would talk to her stuffed animals, dolls, Does a waiting room and an office. One day kenji wright, her uncle. Came to his brother's home to seek safe place from yakuza, coming back with his pinky finger cut. Saying he left yakuza. Mikai didn't want to participate but he had to so he let kenji stay.

Kenji and saira's bond are Huge. They would act like twins and kenji always treats saira was respect and like his daughter. His love for is unspeakable.

In 2005 mikai decided to teach saira the importance of work at 6 and asked kenji to hire her in his restaurant. Kenji agreed, she was a waitress but he realized that she was good at making appointments, calls, writing and talking. He switched her position to scertery until the age of 8. She got kicked out due to her moving to the uk

In 2007 she moved in uk and later got the nationality, she grew her English and British accent into a better level. When she turned 10 she had a part time job in a candy shop...the owner was Japanese too! Mikai even recognized him. He was one of his friends from high school

In 2012 entering her puberty, saira grew with more interests such as makeup, boys, books, katanas and mostly socials. She would go out with her girlfriends to malls, do makeup and girly stuff more likely. In that age insecurities can affect her but not until her dad's friend's daughter came into the picture and mikai stopped supporting saira but aiko still by her side and accepted everything about her.

Saira and mikai's relationship began to fell day after day due to him foucing on his friend's daughter who was smart, young, beautiful and talented. Saira's heart shattered

In 2013 Saira then started to be rude to her father and always fight with him to get her way, he would complain everything about her and everytime they argue mikai would always brings his friend's daughter into the picture

"Why can't you be like her??"

Saira gets more rude when he talks about her and preferred her more than his own daughter. Until one day they got into a heated fight.

"You always disrespect me!"

"You never pay attention to me!"

"Saira you better behave! Why can't you just like her?? You put too much makeup, your too disrespectful, you never have talents"

"I'm not a bitch like her!"

"Don't talk about her like that"

"She's not perfect! And if you love her so much then why don't you make her your daughter?! I can survive without you!"

"Really? And go where exactly? To your little friends house?"

"To Russia!"

"Russia?? Your not gonna survive there!"

"Well as long as they don't have you I'm fine"

"Then get out of my house"

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

Saira shouted at him in a broke hearted voice and packed her things, she took the piggy bank with her and left the house, tears were falling fastly and she made her way to the airport.

Saira had this piggy bank when she was a baby, the purpose was to put money in it until she was collage and saira always dreamed of traveling to russia, she read alots of books and articles about russia. She paid for a ticket and went there, meanwhile aiko went home and saw saira was missing and learned the information that her daughter was kicked out of the house due to makeup and attitude, aiko couldn't stop crying while kenji spent all day yelling at his brother

"What the fuck were you thinking?! She's 14 and you kicked her out and she went to russia?! Do you have any idea how russia is dangerous and reckless you are?! She's your daughter for God's sake!!!"

Half of her family from Japan were mad at mikai for the decision.

Saira reached sixth day in russia, looking for a job in Saint Petersburg. It was a snowy day and no shop accepted her due to her being 14. She sighed and kept on walking until she bumped into a man

"Watch where you going"

He said in his thick russian accent looking at her

"I'm sorry"

"What are you doing here at this late hour? You shouldn't be here alone especially if your a little girl"

"I'm looking for a job..I have no one but myself.."

He stayed silent for a few moments.

"What's your name?"

"Saira Wright...what about you?"

"Vladimir...Vladimir Makarov"

...

Hey guys! This was hard for me to write and calculated some years so I could get it right but I hope you like it!!💖

I tag : @alypink and @piouswolf

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"After beverage rooms opened in Ontario in 1934, the Board followed up with the further regulatory conditions concerning dancing and "ladies nights." The "ladies and escorts" sections "typically took up half of the beverage-room area, had their own entrances and washroooms,  and were heavily patronized from the beginning."

Even so, the very presence of women within drinking establishments in combination with unmarried men prompted a moral outcry against the potential impropriety inspired by this mixed drinking  within the male beverage rooms. In response in 1937 the LCBO drafted beverage regulations requiring licensed establishments to have "two separate and distinct beverage rooms one for men only, and the other solely for women, except where attended by bona fide escorts.” (Globe and Mail, 1937)

This regulation also applied to female servers, who contested their restriction from serving liquor within the "men only" beverage room. In repeated communications the Board stressed its strong opposition against women servers, denying women the right to work within these establishments even if they owned them or were wives of the owners. In 1944 the Board partially yielded on the matter, explaining to authority holders that they could "make use of females as waitresses in the Ladies' and Escorts' beverage room ONLY" (LCBO 1944). LCBO policy required that "authority holders desiring this privilege" within the Ladies and Escorts room to have female servers working "must make application to the Board as well as submit a medical certificate covering the proposed employee and indicating that she is free from disease" (ibid.). Having these women in male beverage rooms apparently "raised fears about prostitution, immorality and venereal disease" within anti-beverage room discourses (Marquis 2004:316; Globe 1934b; Ontario Provincial Council of Women 1944). Male servers, in contrast, were not held to this medical standard. The transfer of principle, then, was based not on exclusion, but instead on inclusionary segmentation of the space in which alcohol circulated. It continued in Ontario until the responsibility of controlling these establishments was shifted away from the LCBO and the opening of mixed "Cocktail Lounges" targeted a more temperate middle-class clientele in 1947 (Marquis 2004: 317).

Women could, of course, drink within their homes. Yet in the Board's early years even there some female drinkers who were the subject of gossip and public criticism, On the LCBO's opening day in 1927 the Globe reported on women purchasers as if they were spectacles for public consumption. Articles were critical of women who "wheeled baby carriages" when making their purchases, or of women who were assertive of their right to drink openly and questioning their ability to both drink and be effective mothers (Globe 1927h). Moreover, discourses surrounding alcoholism and motherhood in the late 1930s expressed fears over a scientifically underdeveloped and fear-based understanding of what would later become known as fetal alcohol syndrome. At a WCTU convention in 1937 a speaker expressed “science claims that alcoholic mothers give to the world either a prostitute or a delinquent, when she does not give an epileptic, an idiot or a lunatic.”

During the Board's early years many women also avoided taking out a permit of their own for fear of being stigmatized - a tendency that again increased the degree to which female gender performances concerning alcohol were mediated by male figures within their lives. When it came to Board policy, the identity of women's husbands or fathers was integrated into the purchase process: the occupations and sometimes names of these men were included on female permits, acting as the lenses through which cases of misspending and overindulgence were viewed.

Unlike men's clubs and legions, which had no trouble obtaining licenses and served as a means by which men could resist Board control over their drinking spaces, women's clubs were denied this privilege…this "issue blew up first in 1935 when the Germaine Club, which had always had a mixed membership, was ordered to stop serving beer to women." The Board held firm to its decision. It disallowed not only women in uniform from drinking but also the gender-exclusive woman's auxiliary equivalents of male clubs."

- Gary Genosko and Scott Thompson, Punched Drunk: Alcohol, Surveillance and the LCBO 1927–1975. Winnipeg and Halifax: Fernwood Press, 2009. p. 152-153