#and i keep thinking of all the evidence i can gather definitively proving that the writing is sooooo homophobic/transphobic

[hecksupremechips]

Girl help I keep thinking about freaking persona 4

[snowmist-hashira]

Hi 👋 it’s me a person you’ve never talked to in your life . Hehe just kidding, I would love to request a Yuichiro x reader when you have the time. Yuichiro has had a challenging day and finds himself super tired and short fused. He ends up coming off as harsh to the reader (maybe Mui too) without meaning to because of it. Then regrets it and feels absolutely awful hating himself, very angsty. I’ll leave it to you if the reader is understanding or not. Take your time please queen and no pressure 🐬 💚!

[Chapter title: Mending Broken Words]

[Requested] Yuichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Twins x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Twins x Reader Details: ♠ Information ♠ Master list: ♠ Yuichirou Tokitou ♠ Word count: 2,369

Artist: やなみ

Links; Twitter & Pixiv

To be honest, this story hit me right in the feels. I'm not sure if it's because I can relate to it so deeply, but it definitely brought tears to my eyes. Here's the angsty one-shot, nee-san :'3 and I hope it evokes strong emotions in you too, just like it did for me, HAHA. I really enjoyed writing this piece, despite the heavy emotions involved XDD

I'll be posting two fictions of Yuichiro x Reader today, a small low-key celebration for 250 followers~ Enjoy~

Due to being a hashira, Yuichiro was constantly burdened with numerous missions and patrols. There were times when he couldn't even find a moment to rest, as his schedule was packed to the brim. He couldn't complain, though, as he had willingly joined the Demon Slayer Corps alongside his brother. However, the exhaustion had taken its toll on his body, and it wasn't something he could easily shake off, no matter how much he wanted to.

Yuichiro trained the low-ranked members, including Y/n, his exhaustion and irritability were evident. He pushed them harder than usual, his patience wearing thin. The continuous missions and lack of sleep had taken a toll on his normal reserved demeanor.

"Come on! Is that the best you can do?" Yuichiro barked, his voice filled with frustration, his fatigue made him less tolerant of any mistakes or shortcomings.

Everyone was determined to prove themselves; they tried their best to keep up with Yuichiro's demanding training. Sweat dripped down their foreheads as they performed the techniques, struggling to meet his expectations. Despite their efforts, they couldn't escape Yuichiro's short-tempered outbursts.

"Focus! Concentrate on your breathing and your movements," Yuichiro snapped, his tone harsh. "You need to improve if you want to survive out there!"

As the grueling training session continued for hours, exhaustion began to take its toll on everyone, including Y/n. The intensity of the exercises and Yuichiro's relentless demands had pushed them all to their limits. Some of her fellow demon slayers were already sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath.

Y/n's body trembled with fatigue, her breathing heavy and erratic. She could feel the sweat soaking her clothes, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Her posture slouched, and she instinctively reached for her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Recognizing that Yuichiro's strictness might be an attempt to push them to their limits, Y/n, who had a closer relationship with him compared to the others, gathered the courage to speak up. “Yuichiro, I think we could use a break," she suggested.

Y/n's suggestion hung in the air as Yuichiro's gaze bore into her. The intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a sudden tension in the atmosphere. It was as if he had stripped away his usual warmth and replaced it with an unfamiliar coldness.

Yuichiro's voice was sharp as he responded, his tone laced with irritation. "A break? You think you deserve a break after that pathetic display? We're demon slayers, Y/n. We don't get breaks when the demons are out there, ready to attack us."

Y/n's heart sank at his words. The harshness in his tone was a stark contrast to their usual interactions. She had always thought she had a special connection with him, but in that moment, it felt like she was a stranger in his eyes.

"Well..." Y/n stuttered, taken aback by the harshness in Yuichiro's tone. While she understood his point, she couldn't help but feel that he could have conveyed it in a gentler manner.

Yuichiro immediately noticed the expression on Y/n's face, and a pang of guilt washed over him for his outburst. However, his annoyance still lingered, and he couldn't bring himself to soften his words. "Whatever, take your breaks then, I don't care," he spat, before turning and walking away.

Y/n couldn't contain her worry and frustration any longer. She hurriedly walked up to Yuichiro and grabbed the sleeve of his haori, hoping to halt his determined stride.

"Yui, I understand that you want to train us for our own improvement, but we can't keep pushing ourselves like this. We're already giving our best," she voiced out, her voice filled with genuine concern. However, her efforts to soften his demeanor were met with indifference.

"Trying our best?" Yuichiro repeated, his voice dripping with venom. "Well, it seems like your best isn't enough, especially since you're not even a Hashira," he added, his words cutting through the air with a harshness that sent a pang of hurt through Y/n's heart.

The moment the words left his lips, Yuichiro felt an instant pang of regret. But what could he do now? The damage had been done, and there was no way to take back his hurtful words.

Y/n felt the weight of Yuichiro's words pierce through her like a dagger. The venomous tone in his voice struck a deep chord within her, and she couldn't help but flinch at his words. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to find a response. The pain of his words washed over her, and she couldn’t help but welled up tears.

“You’re no better than a demon.” Y/n's voice cracked as she snapped back at Yuichiro, her words filled with a mixture of pain and anger. Tears streamed down her face; the hurt etched on her features as she struggled to hold back her emotions. Biting her bottom lip to suppress any sniffles, she pushed past him forcefully, distancing herself from him.

Yuichiro stood frozen in place, his earlier indifference replaced by shock and regret. The impact of Y/n's words hit him like a punch to the gut. He watched helplessly as she ran away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in his ears.

Realizing the gravity of his words and actions, a wave of guilt washed over Yuichiro. He never intended to hurt Y/n, especially not to this extent. He clenched his fists, frustration and regret mingling within him.

The weight of his own words bore down on him. The realization that his exhaustion had caused him to lash out at someone he cared about left him feeling utterly disappointed in himself. He couldn't believe that he had let his fatigue get the better of him, allowing hurtful words to slip from his lips.

With every step he took, Yuichiro's self-directed frustration grew. He clenched his fists even tighter, the intensity of his grip reflecting his inner turmoil. His frown deepened as he berated himself for his lack of control, feeling like the most useless person in that moment.

In his attempt to make amends, he searched for Y/n in the usual places he would find her. Eventually, he spotted her, but to his surprise, she was not alone. She was with his twin brother.

Yuichiro's heart sank as he stumbled upon the scene of Y/n sobbing in Muichiro's arms. The sight pierced through him, intensifying his guilt and regret. He felt a mix of emotions—jealousy, regret, and a deep sense of remorse for causing Y/n such pain.

Yuichiro looked at the comforting scene between Y/n and Muichiro, a pang of jealousy stirred within him. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards his younger brother's ability to easily connect with others, especially when he himself struggled with expressing his emotions. The feeling of inadequacy intensified as he compared himself to Muichiro.

Yuichiro's conflicting emotions overwhelmed him as he stood hidden, observing Y/n and Muichiro. The turmoil within him made it difficult to make a clear decision on whether to enter the scene or leave. In the end, his emotions got the better of him, and he chose to quietly withdraw.

He then heard footsteps approaching from behind, he turned around to find his younger twin, Muichiro, standing there. The sight of his brother softened Yuichiro's gaze, momentarily easing the turmoil within him.

His eyes remained averted, unable to meet Muichiro's gaze as he wrestled with his own emotions and the consequences of his actions. "How... How was Y/n?" He asked, his voice quivered with a mix of concern and guilt.

"She's hurt," Muichiro replied, his voice calm and soft. He understood that Yuichiro wouldn't have lashed out without a reason. Sympathy and concern radiated from his touch as he placed a comforting hand on Yuichiro's shoulder.

"Nii-san, you should go talk to her. It's better to make amends before it's too late," Muichiro suggested, his intentions pure and well-meaning. However, a surge of jealousy unexpectedly welled up within Yuichiro upon hearing his brother's words.

The stirring of jealousy within him intensified his inner turmoil. He couldn't help but feel belittled, as if his own actions and abilities were inferior to his younger twin's.

His fists clenched involuntarily, and a mix of frustration and resentment washed over him. The jealousy that had been brewing within him threatened to consume his rationality.

Yuichiro forcefully brushed off his younger brother's hand, his glare piercing and intense. Muichiro's eyes widened in surprise, struggling to comprehend the sudden change in his brother's behavior.

"Do you think you're better than me now, Muichiro? Is that it?" The words escaped his lips, fueled by his inner turmoil, his resentment and jealousy momentarily overpowering his better judgment.

Muichiro's eyebrows furrowed, a mix of concern and pain crossing his face, his voice carried a hint of hurt as he tried to clarify the misunderstanding.

"Nii-san, I never thought of that," Muichiro replied softly, his voice tinged with confusion. "I would never think I'm better than you. I'm just trying to help and find a way to make things right. I care about both of you."

Seeing the genuine pain in Muichiro's expression, his older twin’s heart sank. The realization of the harm he had caused and the contrast between his own behavior and his brother's gentle nature intensified his self-hatred. He despised himself for his outburst, for his inability to convey his feelings properly, and for… Not being more like his brother.

A mix of remorse and self-disgust washed over Yuichiro. He longed to undo his actions, to go back in time and handle the situation differently. But in that moment, overwhelmed by his emotions, he couldn't bring himself to face Muichiro. With a heavy heart, he turned away, unable to bear the disappointment he saw in his brother's eyes.

Muichiro watched silently, his expression a mixture of concern and sadness, as his older twin walked away.

Yuichiro gritted his teeth in frustration, the weight of his actions and the self-loathing that consumed him becoming almost unbearable. Regret coursed through his veins, and he felt absolutely awful, hating himself for the hurt he had caused and for not being able to control his emotions.

He was an emotional wreck, unable to find solace or escape from the turmoil within him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought to contain his overwhelming emotions, feeling like he had hit rock bottom. The heaviness in his chest made it difficult to breathe, and his mind raced with self-critical thoughts.

Yuichiro desperately wished he could turn back time and handle things differently, to prevent the pain he had caused. He yearned to find a way to make amends, to show those he cared about how deeply sorry he was. The torment he felt was consuming him, leaving him feeling lost and broken.

His feet carried him aimlessly, his mind consumed by guilt and regret, he stumbled upon Y/n sitting alone on a bench. The sight of her immediately sent a pang of remorse through his heart, intensifying the weight of his actions and the pain he had caused her.

Just as Yuichiro was about to turn away, Y/n's eyes caught sight of his figure, and their gazes locked in a moment, his heart ached as he caught sight of Y/n's red, tear-filled eyes. The sight of her pain intensified the guilt within him, making it difficult for him to meet her gaze. He averted his eyes, feeling the weight of his remorse as he stared down at the ground.

“Yui. Come here.”

Yuichiro hesitated for a moment, unsure of how Y/n would receive him. But her gentle and soft voice beckoned him, breaking through the barrier of guilt and uncertainty. He took a deep breath, finally yielding to her request and slowly walked towards her, taking a seat beside her on the bench.

The silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Yuichiro could feel the weight of the pain he had caused and the necessity of his redemption. His hands fidgeted nervously as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse.

“Y/n… I’m so-“ Yuichiro's voice trailed off as he started to speak, but Y/n cut in before he could finish his sentence.

"I'm sorry, Yuichiro," Y/n interjected, her voice filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to provoke you with my words earlier. I understand that you're just trying to push us to improve, and I appreciate that."

Yuichiro's eyes widened in surprise as Y/n interrupted his words, he was taken aback by her humility and her willingness to take responsibility for her own actions, despite his initial hurtful words.

Yuichiro's throat tightened, his voice caught in a mix of emotions as he finally found the courage to speak.

"No, Y/n, it is I who should be sorry," Yuichiro interjected, his voice filled with sincerity. "I was the one who started it all, and I had no right to lash out at you. Please, don't apologize for snapping at me. I was in the wrong…”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Yuichiro, pulling him into a gentle embrace, he initially felt the urge to break away. He believed that he didn't deserve her comfort and kindness after the hurtful words he had spoken. But the sincerity and warmth in her gesture spoke volumes, touching his heart in a way he couldn't ignore.

“I forgive you.”

A mixture of emotions swirled within Yuichiro as his head nuzzled against her chest. Tears welled up in his minty orbs, threatening to spill over. The weight of his guilt and remorse became intertwined with a glimmer of hope and forgiveness, slowly mending the broken pieces within him.

Yuichiro's voice trembled as he expressed himself, “I’m sorry for lacking…” Feeling vulnerable and weak in that moment. But before he could continue, Y/n's gentle voice interrupted him, her words washing over him like a soothing balm.

"You're more than enough for me," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity and acceptance. Those words resonated deep within Yuichiro, piercing through the layers of self-doubt and insecurity.

Tears flowed freely from Yuichiro's eyes as he released a shaky breath, finally allowing himself to believe in the possibility of forgiveness and redemption.

[rfaromance]

Hi! Just wanted to request any hcs for how Seven would help an MC with health anxiety that fluctuates between severe and just always present if that's okay! Have a great day ☆

Of course! Take care of yourself, anon, and I hope you have a great day as well ♡

Saeyoung listens to all of MC's concerns seriously. He is an extremely paranoid person himself, even if he tries hard not to show it. He'd never dismiss MC without listening, even if he thinks their concerns are far-fetched.

After he listens, he does whatever he can to gather evidence to prove that's not happening. "You say it's this, but you aren't showing xyz symptom." Sometimes he will gather evidence in silly ways, like sticking his tongue out to draw a similar response. "Aha! You stuck your tongue out straight! So I doubt you have a concussion."

He's no medical genius, but he's seen his fair share of injuries and definitely has some basic knowledge solely for the purpose of keeping himself alive on field missions. So for injuries, he's got MC covered. He will always take precautions to put them at ease on bad days--the inside of his hoodie is filled with bandages and ointments. Nobody is sure how he fits them all in there.

He'd probably make a medical robot! Think Baymax, but a cat, because he has a cat problem. A little buddy who can scan for temperature and take MC's pulse. Just to help put MC's mind at ease in a pinch! Medical Meowy, MD.

Again, he listens because he knows how suffocating it is to have those anxious thoughts buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees. He will break them down one by one, though, trying to work through the mess of emotions to hit the logic. He's a science guy as much as he is a religious guy, so he likes solid proof when it comes to matters of the body.

That being said, if MC is okay with it, he would be more than happy to say a prayer with them just for extra protection. But not without consent, if MC isn't religious. The last thing he wants is to cause more anxiety.

On the more severe days, Saeyoung is glued to MC's side. He wants to be there for physical and emotional support, to assure them that he will do everything in his power to protect his kitten from harm.

[theinfinitedivides]

hi hello there!! i saw that you followed me and i assume it's in regards to the ravn situation.

oneus is one of my ults (albeit hwanwoong has always been my bias), and only a few months before all of this i saw them in person for the first time. i am in absolute shock that all of this has happened - what ravn's been accused with is absolutely, completely terrible and there is no excuse if he has done it. i did read what's happened and the results of this, and there is no doubt that this will have a massive impact on oneus + their relations to the industry - even if it is true or not. hell, even cya, member of oneus's literal brother group, has unfollowed ravn on soundcloud. however, cya is still following leedo

right now i'm just waiting for answers from rbw. hopefully this situation is revealed very soon and we can have some sort of answer as to whether ravn really did commit those horrendous crimes or not.

wishing everyone the best. thank you

hello there! honestly everything you've said are almost word for word the points i've been trying to make to other people in the fandom—never got to see oneus live before all of this broke out, although i was considering trying to get a ticket to one of their recent stops here in the US. (Hwanwoong is my ult bias as well, btw, followed by Xion, but i did always tend to lean more towards the rap heavy members in boy groups and R*vn was no exception.) decided against it bc of personal reasons and now there's a bit of a relief that i did? i don't think i would have been able to appreciate and look back on my memories of seeing them if i found out about this almost immediately after, tbh, and i understand why you're in shock.

on the topic of CyA—i might have said this elsewhere (maybe in one of my DMs with another user) but from what i've seen during my time with onewe (who i have been following since before they made the move to RBW and redebuted) he is a very kind individual. he is close with several of the oneus members, and to see him do what he did and take it upon himself to remove all traces of their collaborations (while still, like you said, following Leedo, which proves that his issue is not with oneus but with R*vn specifically) was definitely a catalyst to me realizing that the group is on the edge of a precipice at this point.

someone pointed out to me that the wording in RBW's official statement is the kind you usually get among agencies when they've found something to back up the claims, want to gather additional evidence but don't want to alarm the rest of the public—iirc Dawn and Hyuna's first agency, CUBE, put out a similarly constructed statement when rumors of them dating first started to circulate among netizens, and so did Wonho's agency, although his charges were later proven to be false.

i really, really hate to say this, but this is panning out to be oneus' Try Guys moment (sans an actual statement from the members themselves, so far) and that f*cking sucks. i'm not too hopeful of him being proven innocent, simply bc there's so much evidence suggesting otherwise, but TO MOONS deserve closure and so does the victim, who, i believe, is so incredibly brave for coming forward and speaking out about she went through in order that other women/4th generation female idols wouldn't have to experience the same—keeping the rest of the members in my thoughts and prayers over the next few days, bc they're going to need it.

[themountainsays]

Does Mirabel ever find out about Villain Julieta and if so what does she do?

Ahhh anon this is the question of the century YES Mirabel eventually finds out about the shit her mom has been doing to Isabela and she's, obviously, really fucking mad. I don't think "really fucking mad" is even the best way to describe it, she's just... utterly betrayed, shocked, horrified, disgusted, grossed out, terrified, desperate... honestly I feel like I'd need more time to figure out her exact reaction. I feel like I'd do it a disservice if I just came up with something in the spot right now, cos it IS the event the whole story has been leading up to, right? Mirabel finding out? And I also have to admit I have only vaguely thought about it because it seems so intimidating, like, it has to be deserving of its place 😭😭😭

Mmmm what I can tell you now is that... Mirabel's first concern is her sister's safety. I'm not sure of how she finds out about the abuse going on, like, whether it's one sudden revelation when she's thinking, alone, and finally everything clicks together; if she suspects something and it takes her a long time to gather the evidence to the point that, when she finds out, she's equally scared but sadly not at all surprised; if she's completely innocent until she witnesses a violent event... a balance of two or all three of these options... something else entirely... yeah I still have to figure that out, but I know that, as soon as Mirabel confirms what's going on, and as soon as she gets a safe chance to approach Isabela, she runs to her and hugs her and doesn't let her go. And like... she sorta starts rambling about how she found out and how sorry she is not for noticing earlier and how she understands now and that their mother is wrong, that Isabela doesn't deserve this etc etc. Either that or she approaches her very slowly, very carefully, as if Isabela were to run away if she moved too quickly. Quietly telling her that she knows, that she'll protect her.

I think Isabela may still be scared to be seen or heard anywhere near Mirabel so if she asks her to stay away after Mirabel pledges to protect her, almost like a knight... it would break her heart but she'd understand. As for concrete action... I think she may tell Agustín and Alma immediately, if Isabela doesn't beg her not to. If she does, Mirabel may hesitate a bit, but I think she'd still want to tell them. She doesn't know how much Agustín knows but she trusts that at least Alma's unconditional favoritism for Isabela will prove helpful for once.

And about Mirabel's relationship with Julieta: it seems pretty obvious, like, she feels like she doesn't even know this person she's loved unconditionally her whole life, she feels betrayed, she feels scare etc etc but at the same time, this change in their relationship should have a special kind of depth, but at the same time it feels like i need more time and energy to develop that. Or help lol. Julieta never really changed - she was always just trying to protect her. To keep someone dangerous away from her. When Mirabel finds out, Julieta isn't even ashamed of being discovered, she's just worried that Mirabel is involved in any way with Isabela, and it shows. That's also part of the horror, like, that Julieta never changed. It was always the same person. The same mother with the same love. No twist and no deception. The only reason she never discussed with Mirabel her relationship with Isabela was because she didn't want to get her involved, and because she knew that Mirabel was so loyal to her sister, that she was "hoping until it was safe" (i.e until Isabela was married and kept away from Mirabel definitely) to talk to her about it. She didn't think Mirabel would listen at all until then. And the only reason Mirabel didn't figure it out earlier was that she trusted her mother too much ;-;

dunno I feel like this should be a much deeper and more layered event TT_TT

[onlineassignmentshelp]

How to Craft a Compelling Thesis Statement

Writing a thesis statement can be a daunting task for many students. It is a crucial part of any academic paper, as it sets the tone for the rest of the paper and informs the reader about the main argument. A well-written thesis statement can make all the difference in the quality of your paper. In this article, we will explore what a thesis statement is, why it is important, and how to write an effective one.

What is a thesis statement?

A thesis statement is a concise summary of the main argument of your paper. It is usually a single sentence that appears at the end of your introductory paragraph. The thesis statement should provide a clear and specific focus for your paper, outlining what you plan to argue or prove.

Why is a thesis statement important?

A thesis statement is important for several reasons. Firstly, it helps to guide the direction of your paper, ensuring that you stay focused on your main argument. This is particularly important for longer papers where it can be easy to lose sight of the main point. Secondly, a well-written thesis statement helps to establish the tone and style of your paper. It sets the stage for the rest of your paper, letting the reader know what to expect.

How to write an effective thesis statement

Be clear and specific

Your thesis statement should be clear and specific. It should provide a concise summary of your main argument, outlining the key points you plan to make in your paper. Avoid using vague language or generalizations that could be interpreted in different ways.

Make it arguable

A good thesis statement should be arguable. It should present an argument that can be supported with evidence and examples. Avoid making statements that are self-evident or universally accepted, as these do not make for a compelling argument.

Keep it concise

Your thesis statement should be concise and to the point. Avoid using unnecessary words or phrases that could muddy your main argument. Remember, your thesis statement should be a single sentence that provides a clear focus for your paper.

Use strong language

Your thesis statement should use strong, definitive language. Avoid using weak language such as "I think" or "I believe." Instead, use language that conveys confidence and authority, such as "This paper argues that" or "The evidence supports the claim that."

Revise and refine

Finally, it is important to revise and refine your thesis statement as you work on your paper. Your initial thesis statement may change as you conduct research and gather evidence. Be prepared to revise and refine your statement as needed to ensure that it accurately reflects the argument you are making in your paper.

In conclusion, a well-written thesis statement is an essential part of any academic paper. It provides a clear focus for your paper, guides the direction of your argument, and sets the tone for the rest of your work. By following these guidelines and taking the time to revise and refine your thesis statement, you can ensure that your paper is both focused and compelling.

[monrosemeadows]

It is a beautiful form of irony within the gaming scene, to see gamers complain about games and projects that are broken or unfinished upon release, while in the same breath, still partaking in pre-orders and continuing to support the developers through future purchases. We have definitely entered an era of gaming where developers rely solemnly on the swiss-cheese brain functions of their communities to be undeservingly forgiving and/or suffering from intentional amnesia. Where they know they can release beta and alpha-builds of their games, have you pay to test it, and then use your moaning on twitter as patch-notes for the future updates. Something that.... you know, the publishers definitely should pay said developers to do before release. By repeatedly forgiving them for doing so, by applauding 20 future patches, you are essentially enabling this behavor and in a sense, aplauding it. You are rewarding them for cutting corners, praising them for fixing things that shouldn't have been broken in the first place, and giving them the green light to do so, by buying more of their games, and possible DLC/mico-transactions etc.

The relationship betweend publishers and the gaming community, is very one sided. And gamers often think that the publisher and the developers are the same power, interchangable, and they're not. Rather than spending 6+ years on a game to ensure gamers receive a finished, optimized experience, publishers push for 4 years at best, with 1 year of continuous updates should they care, and should the game be profitable at best. If the game proves not to be, the plug will be pulled and games will be left to gather dust.

Ubisoft definitely spearheads this concept, where their games often look pretty and have flashy colors to distract you, distract you from the rushed development of said game, often resulting in broken game mechanics, bugs-a-plenty, and DLC/micro transactions up the ass—and it is these MTs that will determine how much they will invest into updates. Sometimes even attaching DLC that is overpriced and fails to improve the gaming experience—but most gamers will look past this. They will pretend it isn't an issue, or say 'Oh well, this is typical Ubisoft. That's how we know Ubisoft to be'. And then buy the sequel in hopes that one might be better, but it won't, because you just told Ubisoft 'it is ok to half-ass these games, because I will buy them regardless, and support this behavior. I am fine with being cheated out of my money, because I am stupid enough to believe they will get their shit together eventually.'

You have to break that cycle, because they won't. Publishers don't care about the community, they don't care about gamers as individuals, they only see numbers. And if these remain stable, or slightly increase every quarter, they will keep doing the same shit over and over. I rarely want to target developer studios, though, they aren't always without flaw either, but we all know sometimes evil needs a hand, and your soul has no value within that business. And I'm not knocking necessary patches for small issues on occasion, that much was, hopefully, evident. Ubisoft's Watchdogs Legion's addition of the online mode went live in a state that was barely functionable.

And had there ben QA testing, it wouldn't have been released in such a state. There was none, no testing of the builds, especially not for consoles, which definitely took the bigger hit in terms of optimization and performance. And I never saw it fit to applaud Ubisoft for eventually patching some of the bugs, while deliberately ignoring others that were equally present and game-breaking. Up to the point that the game saw such a decrease in activity, and a mountain of people bitching about the abhorent state of the online mode (which was its most successful feature by a long shot) —they eventually pulled the plug because fixing this game would prove to be too cost-expensive.. This is a problem. Had the publishers pushed the release date (which had already been pushed twice due to the corona pandemic), and released the game in an operable state, this wouldn't have been an issue. Gamers aren't monsters, and we are quite forgiving when it comes to delayed releases, because we know it will ensure a quality product when it eventually does release. But nowadays, we operate in a backwards motion. Broken games are released to increase sales, the developers take the reputational hit to the gut, publishers push for updates, which are also rushed, gamers lose their trust in the developers, the updates release, gamers are temporarily pleased and willing to forget, until the cycle repeats.

It is a sad state to be in, for either side. Imagine buying a car for full price, upon picking it up, at first glance, it seems to be in perfect, operable state. The paint shines, the leather interior smells as you expect it to—but once you start driving it home, you notice that there isn't a built-in radio, and it doesn't have blinkers. At times it swirves for no reason, the engine stutters and there are no windshieldwipers. Then, months later, the manufacturer rings your doorbell and tells you: hey there, here are the parts the initial build you bought was missing, BUT, if you're willing to pay a little extra, we'll add a USB port to the radio, and we'll add brakefluids, we'll also add some 4-season tires.. You wouldn't applaud that behavior, would you? And you surely wouldn't buy from said manufacturer again either.

[legalreviewtipsnow]

Do I Need a Lawyer for a Car Insurance Claim?

To file a simple accident, claim with your car insurance company, you don’t need a lawyer. If it was a minor collision and no one got hurt, and the damage to either vehicle was minimal, you should be able to file a claim on your own. If the crash was more serious, however, you might consider hiring an attorney to help you with your claim. When to Hire a Lawyer for an Insurance Claim First and foremost, if you have any doubts about the claims process with your insurance company for any reason, you should contact a lawyer for advice. If you’ve never filed a claim before, however, you may not know which of your concerns are legitimate and merit hiring a lawyer. Some factors to consider when deciding to involve a lawyer include: The severity of your injuries. A serious injury is any injury that will affect you for a long time or that required hospitalization, forced you to miss work or school, resulted in lost income, or resulted in high medical bills. If you have a serious injury from your car accident, you should contact an attorney before dealing with your insurance company. The other driver’s insurance is refusing to pay. If the insurance carrier of the other driver won’t pay, they’re disputing their policyholder’s liability in the accident, essentially saying it’s not their fault. When it’s not clear whose fault it is, you will have to prove the other driver’s liability — which is much easier to do with help from a lawyer. The offered settlement is too low. Insurance companies are looking to save as much money as possible, so they make low offers. Most people accept them because they want the process to be over with, even if it doesn’t cover all their accident-related expenses. An attorney will negotiate with the insurance company for a higher settlement that actually compensates you for your losses. Your case is going to trial. If your insurance claim case is going to court and it’s not small claims court, then you will definitely be better off having an attorney. Asking yourself these questions can help you decide whether having an attorney is necessary for your car accident claim. Some other situations when you should probably contact an attorney for your car insurance include: The accident resulted in a death. A pedestrian was injured. You or the other driver doesn’t have insurance. You are at least partly at fault. Your insurance company starts involving its own attorneys. Can you represent yourself in a car accident claim? You don’t need a lawyer to handle a car accident claim. If the process stays between you and the insurance company, you don’t need a lawyer. If your case is more complicated, however, it’s smart to get a lawyer to negotiate on your behalf. You should only consider representing yourself if: You aren’t afraid to learn. You’ll need to educate yourself on how insurance claims processes work. If your case ends up going to trial, you’ll need to learn a lot more. If you represent yourself in court, a judge expects you to know all the applicable laws and rules for your case, even if you’re not a lawyer. If you don’t have the time or don’t feel like doing all of that learning, you should get an attorney. The fault of the accident is not contested. If it’s clear who’s at fault in your accident, it makes the case more straightforward. If there are doubts over liability, you’ll have to gather information and evidence to prove you aren’t liable. Attorneys are well-trained in collecting evidence and building a case, so you might be off with some assistance in this aspect. You don’t have a choice. Your claim might be so small that no attorney wants to take it, but you don’t want to drop it. If you think you’re right and want to keep fighting, then you would have to represent yourself in this situation. The bottom line is: You can spend some time educating yourself and learning the basics of handling a car accident claim, but you can’t make yourself a trial attorney in a matter of weeks. Know your limitations and when it’s a good idea to ask for help. What happens when you’re being sued for a car accident? After a car accident, it’s possible the other party will try to hold you responsible. If you and your insurance carrier dispute this claim, the other party might file a personal injury lawsuit against you in order to seek compensation. When you get sued by someone else for a car accident, your insurance company should hire a lawyer to defend you. There are some situations, however, when your insurer will not give you a lawyer, including: If you didn’t give the insurance company proper notice of the crash If the collision was the result of an intentional action If you want to file your own claim for damages against the other driver Your insurance company has a “duty to defend” you when you’re being sued for a car accident claim, but if it doesn’t step in with legal help, you’ll need to find your own. Defending yourself against a lawsuit from another driver can be stressful and overwhelming. When you find yourself in this situation, the best thing you can do is call a personal injury lawyer. A lawyer can make handling your claim easier. Although you don’t need a lawyer to file an insurance claim for a car accident, having one certainly improves your chances of getting a favorable outcome. If your case is a bit too complicated for you to handle on your own, consider getting a lawyer’s help. At Yosha, we offer a free case evaluation to help you understand your options. https://yoshalawfirm.com/do-i-need-a-lawyer-for-a-car-insurance-claim/

[legalreviewtips]

Do I Need a Lawyer for a Car Insurance Claim?

To file a simple accident, claim with your car insurance company, you don’t need a lawyer. If it was a minor collision and no one got hurt, and the damage to either vehicle was minimal, you should be able to file a claim on your own. If the crash was more serious, however, you might consider hiring an attorney to help you with your claim. When to Hire a Lawyer for an Insurance Claim First and foremost, if you have any doubts about the claims process with your insurance company for any reason, you should contact a lawyer for advice. If you’ve never filed a claim before, however, you may not know which of your concerns are legitimate and merit hiring a lawyer. Some factors to consider when deciding to involve a lawyer include: The severity of your injuries. A serious injury is any injury that will affect you for a long time or that required hospitalization, forced you to miss work or school, resulted in lost income, or resulted in high medical bills. If you have a serious injury from your car accident, you should contact an attorney before dealing with your insurance company. The other driver’s insurance is refusing to pay. If the insurance carrier of the other driver won’t pay, they’re disputing their policyholder’s liability in the accident, essentially saying it’s not their fault. When it’s not clear whose fault it is, you will have to prove the other driver’s liability — which is much easier to do with help from a lawyer. The offered settlement is too low. Insurance companies are looking to save as much money as possible, so they make low offers. Most people accept them because they want the process to be over with, even if it doesn’t cover all their accident-related expenses. An attorney will negotiate with the insurance company for a higher settlement that actually compensates you for your losses. Your case is going to trial. If your insurance claim case is going to court and it’s not small claims court, then you will definitely be better off having an attorney. Asking yourself these questions can help you decide whether having an attorney is necessary for your car accident claim. Some other situations when you should probably contact an attorney for your car insurance include: The accident resulted in a death. A pedestrian was injured. You or the other driver doesn’t have insurance. You are at least partly at fault. Your insurance company starts involving its own attorneys. Can you represent yourself in a car accident claim? You don’t need a lawyer to handle a car accident claim. If the process stays between you and the insurance company, you don’t need a lawyer. If your case is more complicated, however, it’s smart to get a lawyer to negotiate on your behalf. You should only consider representing yourself if: You aren’t afraid to learn. You’ll need to educate yourself on how insurance claims processes work. If your case ends up going to trial, you’ll need to learn a lot more. If you represent yourself in court, a judge expects you to know all the applicable laws and rules for your case, even if you’re not a lawyer. If you don’t have the time or don’t feel like doing all of that learning, you should get an attorney. The fault of the accident is not contested. If it’s clear who’s at fault in your accident, it makes the case more straightforward. If there are doubts over liability, you’ll have to gather information and evidence to prove you aren’t liable. Attorneys are well-trained in collecting evidence and building a case, so you might be off with some assistance in this aspect. You don’t have a choice. Your claim might be so small that no attorney wants to take it, but you don’t want to drop it. If you think you’re right and want to keep fighting, then you would have to represent yourself in this situation. The bottom line is: You can spend some time educating yourself and learning the basics of handling a car accident claim, but you can’t make yourself a trial attorney in a matter of weeks. Know your limitations and when it’s a good idea to ask for help. What happens when you’re being sued for a car accident? After a car accident, it’s possible the other party will try to hold you responsible. If you and your insurance carrier dispute this claim, the other party might file a personal injury lawsuit against you in order to seek compensation. When you get sued by someone else for a car accident, your insurance company should hire a lawyer to defend you. There are some situations, however, when your insurer will not give you a lawyer, including: If you didn’t give the insurance company proper notice of the crash If the collision was the result of an intentional action If you want to file your own claim for damages against the other driver Your insurance company has a “duty to defend” you when you’re being sued for a car accident claim, but if it doesn’t step in with legal help, you’ll need to find your own. Defending yourself against a lawsuit from another driver can be stressful and overwhelming. When you find yourself in this situation, the best thing you can do is call a personal injury lawyer. A lawyer can make handling your claim easier. Although you don’t need a lawyer to file an insurance claim for a car accident, having one certainly improves your chances of getting a favorable outcome. If your case is a bit too complicated for you to handle on your own, consider getting a lawyer’s help. At Yosha, we offer a free case evaluation to help you understand your options. https://yoshalawfirm.com/do-i-need-a-lawyer-for-a-car-insurance-claim/

[tom--22--felton]

Okayyy you're not gonna like this Val buttt. I think I know which guy friend Tom has a crush on. And I know you say don't assume his sexuality but he's a celebrity and I don't think he would actually reveal it. I'm not going to say which Friend but I know it's not Derek. Now Tom has a crap ton of guy friends so it's hard to say but I definitely think I cracked the code because I did a little bit of digging. And just so no rumors go out I won't say anyone's name. And yeah I know you think Tom is 100 percent straight and you think he has never shown any signs of being bi or gay. But I think he's bisexual and we all have a right to an opinion and that's mine and I do think he has shown signs of being gay and no not him being cuddly with his mates. Any guy can hug his friend and be straight. I showed my sister Tom's book and she doesn't really know who he is and even she asked if he was gay. It's the small things he does. And the things he doesn't say. He could say a lot but whenever someone doesn't say anything it says a lot and with the evidence I gathered up I do think he's bisexual. Again won't say who or how I know just wanted to see if anyone else felt the same or knows who I'm talking about.

I'm sorry, anon, but what you are doing now is actually called trolling. Either say the name and give the reasons to prove that or just keep it to yourself instead of creating another round of drama.

[tteokggukk]

amortentia → kth

–pairing: gryffindor!taehyung x gryffindor!reader 

–genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, fluff

–words: 3.7k

–warnings: none, except a teeny tiny dirty joke in the end (?), oh and this was unedited sorry i’m in class, also i mention cedric so just pretend he’s alive ok

–summary: you’re surprised to smell the scent of the boy you constantly don’t get along with coming from the famous, but most dangerous, love potion in the world.

–a/n: uh so i’ve been obsessing over harry potter again for the past month askdlaksdj anyways here’s a short drabble i thought of when i got sidetracked planning my next smau wahoo oh yeah this was also inspired by that one scene where they sniff the potion lol

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum  @mochisjoon​ @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd​

You hurriedly walked into your Potions class with your books clutched to your chest.

Potions has always been your favorite class and no doubt were you skilled at it. Your friends often had to ask for your help when it came to brewing, and an added plus was that you often gained house points for your flawless work. The class was normally held by Snape, who greatly terrified and intimidated a lot of students, but there were certain changes made this year that resulted in a different professor teaching the class.

Students were evidently happy about the sudden change of professors. Walking into Potions back then would instantly result in a quiet room and anxious-looking faces with no one daring to speak. It was a bit strange now, albeit refreshing, to hear the buzz of students chatting and actually smiling in the room while waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Slughorn stood at the center of the room in front of a long table where several cauldrons were spread out, emanating a variety of colored fumes and causing a mixture of different smells to fill the room.

The combination of different smells was something you were already used to—normally they were undistinguishable and almost smelled like something close to nothing, but today there was one scent that stood out, one that was strangely captivating.

Fighting to keep your mind from falling into a trance, you could feel yourself being pulled by the scent. Never before have you sniffed something so alluring, so entrancing— so dizzying, it almost smelled like—

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a group of students laughing and rushing into the room, causing you to snap out of it. Your head immediately turns to find the source.

There Taehyung stood with his friends who were all fixing their robes as if they just ran a hundred miles to get to the room. They were only standing but they all looked so bright, even you couldn’t deny they were attractive. Though you got on with his friends well, Taehyung just seemed to love annoying you every minute of the day. He especially loved teasing you through uncalled for flirting and a plethora of dirty jokes—and though you could easily retaliate, it was amusing to see you try and hide how flustered you’d get because of it. Because of this, all your interactions resulted in numerous banters, inevitably making it official that you two would never get along peacefully without one riling up the other (which was mostly you).

He found it amusing, whereas you found it annoying.

You glared at him, watching as he ran his hand through his hair while sending a sheepish smile over to your professor.

“Sorry we’re late professor, almost forgot our books,” Taehyung smiled, holding up his copy of Advanced-Potion Making.

Professor Slughorn simply smiled and waved for them to hurry, “No problem, m’boy! Good to see you, good to see you—now, gather ‘round everyone!”

As if he could’ve gotten away with that if Snape were around, you thought and rolled your eyes. You could almost hear Snape from a distance with his low voice muttering a “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Taehyung catches your eyes rolling as students began to huddle around the different cauldrons. As you and your friends made your way towards one of the potions on the table, you fail to notice Taehyung excusing himself from his friends and moving past other students to walk over to where you were, a smirk forming on his lips.

The seductive scent your mind was previously clouded with has suddenly gotten stronger, and it wasn’t long before you were able to distinguish one of them: a scented candle that had an oddly specific scent of blackcurrant berries and roses. Your brows knit in confusion at the familiar scent of combined fire and fragrance as you whip your head around to look for the person you knew often smelled like this.

Sure enough, he was right there standing behind you. Did he burn all of his candles? Why does he smell so strongly today? Taehyung places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you from looking around too much. He bends his head low and moves close to your ear.

“Saw you rolling your eyes there, y/l/n,” He whispers, trying to look discreet. The scent engulfs you even more—probably because his hair seems to absorb it all, and though you’re not exactly repulsed by it (you were pulled, even, though you’d never admit that), you try to act nauseated. “Darling, do I bother your thoughts that much?” He teases.

“Psh, please, Kim. You wish I was thinking of you,” You faked a gag. “And move—” You push his hands off your shoulders and wave your hand around your face as if to waft away something pungent, “I don’t know why but this room seems to smell an awful lot like you. It’s suffocating.”

Taehyung raises a brow, and looks at you with a confused look before talking in a not-so-discreet and surprised tone, “Me? You know, I was actually gonna say the same about you. It smells like your shampoo in here.”

“My shampoo? You’re literally right behind me!” You retorted through gritted teeth.

“No, I know! But like, it’s everywhe—“

“Now then,” Slughorn’s voice was much louder now, cutting Taehyung off, “Can anyone tell me what this potion is? Maybe Mr. Kim?” He asks, pointing to one of the cauldrons on his right. He definitely heard Taehyung talking.

Taehyung moves closer so he was standing next to you now. He stares into the cauldron, finding a colorless and odorless potion, but Taehyung only looks at him in confusion.

“Sir, is this Veritaserum?” Taehyung asks, his eyes narrowing in thought, “I don’t think it’s supposed to smell like anything, but I can’t really tell cause it smells like y/l/n in here—“

“Oh dear, my bad, sorry!” With a knowing smile, Slughorn covers one cauldron and suddenly the room stopped smelling like Taehyung. Taehyung seemed to be thinking the same thing because he looked back at you with a blank look on his face before turning back to the cauldron.

“It’s Veritaserum,” He concludes, “It’s a colorless and odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.” “Very good!” Slughorn praises him, “Now, can anyone tell me what this is?” Slughorn continues to ask students around to identify what kind of potion has been brewed along with its function. You raise your arm up every time and Taehyung laughs at how eager you look every moment that you do, earning him a death glare each time. Slughorn doesn’t call you once, but he finally does in the end.

“Now, Miss y/l/n. I know you know all the potions well, so would you do the honor of telling us what this one is?” Slughorn reopens the cauldron he had previously shut when Taehyung was identifying Veritaserum, and suddenly the room smells like him again.

Why does the scent make you feel comfortable yet nervous all at once?

You move towards the brew, heart pumping a little too loudly in your chest. You had your suspicions on what that potion really was, but that couldn’t be it, right?

Taehyung probably just burned all his candles or something, that’s why his scent was so strong today.

But upon seeing the liquid in the cauldron, you could already identify what it was by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen along with the characteristic spirals rising out of it.

“Amortentia,” You spoke, trying to sound calm. Taehyung, who was also secretly good in potions, looked up in shock and moved from his position to a place where he could clearly see your face to see your reaction.

“Very good! Will you tell us more about it?” Slughorn continued.

You nod in response, “Yes, well… It’s the most powerful love potion in the world. It’s supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us.” You stopped. Maybe he wasn’t going to ask you what you could smell, but before you could move back, Slughorn trailed on.

“Correct! Now, can you describe what it is that you smell?” Slughorn smiled before turning to the rest of the class, “You all will have the chance to sniff it too.”

Your eyes widen and you gulped nervously as you moved back closer to the potion. You forced a smile and nodded to your professor before leaning into the cauldron and wafting the scent towards you.

“I smell…” You stared into the liquid before recognizing several scents, “Fresh paint… scented candles…”

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Were you actually smelling Taehyung in amortentia? Taehyung, who would endlessly annoy the life out of you whenever he had the chance? Taehyung, who would argue with you over trivial things like food preferences? Taehyung, who recently kept “running into you” and ended up hanging out with you cause it “couldn’t be helped”? Taehyung, who would stay with you until late at night while you studied in the common room because you shouldn’t be “out there alone”?

Taehyung, who annoyed you but made you feel empty whenever he wasn’t around?

Or maybe it wasn’t actually him you were smelling. Maybe it’s just his scent that rubbed off on someone else? You couldn’t possibly be attracted to him when all you did was annoy each other and get on the other’s nerves.

But then again, you’ve never had a day where he failed to make you smile.

The final scent, proving that it really was him these scents were associated with, made you subconsciously glance over at him who was eyeing you with much curiosity. You quickly looked away and stared back at the liquid, feeling the heat spread upon your face and ears before quietly muttering, “…and strawberries.”

Your friends all stared at you in shock because even they knew the whole world associated strawberries with the one and only Kim Taehyung because it was his favorite fruit, after all. Walking back to your place, you kept a good distance from you and the cauldron to avoid being too immersed in the smell, now wanting it to be as far away as you kept mentally denying what just happened.

Taehyung stifled a laugh and tried to press his lips together to suppress himself from forming a wide grin. Slughorn, who caught onto what was happening, thanked you before calling onto Taehyung again.

“And what about you, Mr. Kim? Could you tell us what you smell in amortentia?” Slughorn motioned for him to move over. Taehyung looked nervous, he obviously wasn’t expecting himself to be called again. He gulps nervously and charmingly tries to offer someone else to sniff the potion, but Slughorn declines and tells him that he should do it.

Taehyung didn’t want to do it, but now he found himself forced to.

Now your only problem was the whole world now knew what—or rather, who attracted you. You knew Taehyung would smell someone else in that potion, it’s probably why he’s so against sniffing it right now. Like you said, all you did was annoy each other. You couldn’t expect him to like you back, could you? You could feel the embarrassment coming as Taehyung moved forward.

You kept your eyes on the floor, avoiding any form of eye contact with the boy you suddenly realized you had feelings for. Taehyung kept looking at you before focusing on the potion and leaning into the cauldron, wafting the scent towards him.

“I still smell your shampoo,” Taehyung spoke. You frown before looking up to see him looking at you. You could feel everyone’s attention transfixed on the both of you, eyes darting back and forth from you to him in amusement.

“It smells sweet, like flowers,” He continued wafting, “I also smell cinnamon… and that perfume you wear, smells like cherries and violets.”

For a second it felt like the whole world stopped, and all you could do was stare at each other with expressions of disbelief. From afar, you could’ve sworn his cheeks were turning into a darker shade of pink, but then he had to walk back to his place after Slughorn had said something you didn’t pay attention to. Everyone else raised their hands up and took turns smelling the love potion.

The rest of the class was spent awkwardly making a potion called Felix Felicis and nothing else about Amortentia. Awkward, because Taehyung was working with you on the same table as he and his friends all couldn’t fit in one. Neither of you really spoke to each other, you were mostly just avoiding his stare while he tried to ask you for help in brewing to which you gave him short and monotonous answers. In your head, you couldn’t help but think that Slughorn made a big deal with amortentia just to stir something up.

Finally, the class ended and you were done with your potion. You handed yours in and Taehyung followed, but you noticed him trying to make his way to you causing you to pick up your pace. You excused yourself from your friends because frankly, you had no idea how to face him.

Plus, what if he was joking about what he smelled? He loved making you mad for a pastime, who’s to say he wasn’t just faking all the things he said?

You shook the thought out of your head, even you knew he wouldn’t go that far. You feel a small twinge of guilt at what you just thought, silently apologizing to no one.

As you brisk walked along the corridors, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. You looked back to see Taehyung, face looking flushed as he looked at you. You almost dropped your books but caught hold onto all of them. Taehyung notices and takes the books from your hand. You couldn’t really decline; your throat was too dry to speak.

“I—“ He starts.

Taehyung, who always has something to say, has suddenly run out of words.

“You don’t need to say anything,” You spoke, voice filled with false confidence, “They’re just scents, you know. Don’t feel obligated to act on anything.”

You have no idea where all this was coming from, but maybe it’s because you didn’t want anything to feel forced between you two. Taehyung just stares at you before clearing his throat.

“Uh, right,” He chuckles, before taking a piece of paper from his pocket and slipping it into your books.

“What—?” You try to open the book to grab the paper, but Taehyung places his hand on the cover and closes it shut.

“Don’t!” He says a little too loudly, causing a few people glance at you two, “Don’t open it now, just… open it later. When I’m not around.”

He flashes you a shy smile before turning to walk away, leaving you dumbstruck in the corridors. You watch as his figure slowly disappears into the crowd, making sure that he’s out of your sight before you open the book and pull the note out. Your heart beats wildly in your chest upon seeing what he wrote.

‘Meet me in the common room after dinner.’

You don’t see Taehyung at all while you were having dinner in the great hall. Surprisingly, you found yourself worrying at the fact that he was skipping a meal, something you never knew you’d ever worry about. The upside was that he wouldn’t hear how your friends (and some of his) mercilessly teased you about what happened earlier at Slughorn’s class, saving you from the embarrassment you would’ve only felt if he were present. With Taehyung being the massive flirt that he is who could come up with a dirty joke within a half of a second, he might’ve actually played along with all the teasing.

Once you were done eating, you excused yourself from your friends telling them that you had forgotten something up at your dorm. Your pulse was beginning to fasten at every step that took you closer and closer to the common room, unsure of why Taehyung asked you to meet.

“Password?” The portrait of the fat lady asks.

“Abstinence,” You spoke.

As you walked in, you were once again greeted by the smell of blackcurrant berries and roses—the scent of Taehyung’s favorite candles. You were also surprised to sniff a few pastries that smelled of cinnamon, and as you made your way further into the room, you later realized that there were freshly baked cinnamon rolls laid out on a platter. The smell was overwhelmingly comforting.

Unsurprisingly, no one was around yet at this hour as people often hung around in the corridors during their free time. All except for one person who was seated on one of the couches, candles spread around on one of the table he sat in front of.

“____,” He looks up once he hears your footsteps. Your heart flutters at the sound of your first name falling off his lips instead of your last. Though he’s already called you by your first name before whenever you two were alone, it was something you still hadn’t gotten used to and filled your stomach with butterflies. Taehyung stands up from the couch and walks over to face you.

“Hi,” You greeted, a little awkwardly.

“Have you—um, eaten?” He asks, scratching the back of his head. The confident, cocky, and outgoing Kim Taehyung was bumbling mess now. It was endearing to see him like this, but it also rose a small ounce of confidence in you.

“I mean you did ask to meet after dinner, so, yeah, I think I’ve eaten,” You chuckled and he jokingly rolls his eyes at you while his tongue pressed against his cheek, a sight that took every effort in your body not to melt at.

“About earlier,” he starts, his expression softening and eyes looking deeply into yours, “I really didn’t want you to find out that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I really was planning on telling you. I was hoping to wait until the Celestial Ball since it’s coming up, but then Potions class happened and I didn’t know I’d be up there telling everyone I could smell ­you in the potio—“

“You were gonna wait ‘til the Celestial Ball?” You ask, raising a brow in amusement.

“Well, yeah. I was gonna ask you sooner or later,” He blushed and nervously scratched at his temple before turning a switch and changing back into his old demeanor, folding his arms and leaning in for your faces to meet, “Can’t have you dancing with anyone else other than me, can we?”

“I was gonna ask Cedric,” You lied with a straight face, “But whatever, I guess I could go with you.”

“You what?” He scoffed in disbelief before laughing at what he just heard, “Please, no you weren’t.” You only stared at him. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” His playful expression falters, “____? Hey!” He gently shakes your shoulders, causing you to break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Geez, Kim,” You laughed, wiping a tear away from the corner of your eye as Taehyung glared at you.

“Wow, and to think I helped with baking all these cinnamon rolls for you,” he huffs.

“How sweet of you,” You said in a sarcastic tone, though you really meant it.

“Aren’t I?” He smirks and looks over at you, “So, I’m gonna scratch out whatever you said earlier.”

“And what exactly did I say?”

“’Don’t feel obligated to act on anything’, is what you said,” He raises a brow and folds his arms, “Yeah, as if. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I just meant I didn’t want to fo—“ You start talking defensively, but you stop talking as soon as Taehyung cups your face with his hands.

“Well I want to act on it, and it’s my decision. I’ve been trying to give you hints these past couple of weeks, but since you never really caught on…” He chuckles, hands travelling down to your waist to pull you closer which causes your breath to hitch, “I like you, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“How could I when all we ever do is annoy the crap out of each other?” You tell him, unable to help yourself from staring at his lips which were now eye-level with yours.

“What can I say? You’re pretty hot all riled up,” Taehyung smirks and earns himself a light punch on the chest, though it made you laugh nonetheless, “I’m sorry it’s just—I can’t lie. Are you staring at my lips? Does this mean you like me back?”

“Taehyung,” You looked back at him, using his first name for the first time, “I smelled you in my amortentia. Of course I like you.”

“Right. This is why the hat never considered me for Ravenclaw,” He mutters.

Taehyung places one of his hands on your chin and looks at you for any sign of hesitance. When he sees none, he smiles and pulls you in. Before you know it, your lips were crashed into the soft, pink ones you were staring at just a while ago. Maybe this is why the hat never considered you for Ravenclaw as well, because only now did all those “hints” make sense—all those nights staying up with you, keeping you company while you studied, all those accidental “run-ins”—they were all for you.

Breathing each other in, you could’ve sworn there might’ve been some freshly brewed amortentia lying around. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of him as you felt him smiling through the kiss prompting you to do the same. His lips tasted like sugar and cinnamon, probably from taste-testing all the cinnamon rolls he’d just baked, not that you were complaining. It was wonderful.

Taehyung finally pulls away with a small tug on his lips. The sight of your warm, red-tinted cheeks while you looked up at him was the prettiest thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Wanna disobey the fat lady’s password?”

That earned him another light punch, but no words of denial left your mouth.

↣ all rights reserved © 2021 tteokggukk. please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

[sepublic]

Why did Odalia allow Emira and Edric in Illusions?

I’ve seen people wonder how Emira and Edric are in Illusions if they seem to be looked down upon, especially with a parent like Odalia expecting the best of her kids! To dabble into some potential explanations;

For starters, illusions might not be looked down upon to begin with? Bria, Angmar, and Gavin give me major jock vibes, what with the physicality of their magic, bullying the smaller Gus and Mattholomule, and seeing the Galdorstones as a litmus test for ‘real’ magic.

Given their immature tendencies, it’s possible that they’ve made an easy and shallow mistake of reducing the value of magic down to its physical strength, instead of the wider applications- Which fits young and overconfident kids from Glandus, which evidently had some toxic ideas.

This could be a shallow Glandus perception that doesn’t grasp the full extent and potential of magic beyond just physically smashing and fighting in a straightforward manner, which might just add to the school’s rivalry with Hexside; But I digress...

The thing about Odalia is that she’s definitely underhanded and a cheater herself- So it makes sense of her to approve of ‘lesser’ tactics anyway, because she might see herself as Lilith, having to use whatever it takes to win. Doesn’t matter if it’s honest or has integrity, Odalia never cared about that... So she wouldn’t be approaching Illusions with the sort of dismissive bias of jocks.

After all, Oracle magic doesn’t seem to be entirely physical- It is to an extent, hence why Selene is able to fight Willow for at least a few seconds... But otherwise, Oracle magic seems to focused on more intangible things. It’d be hypocritical of Odalia to embrace Oracle magic but then judge Illusions, but then again she’s no stranger to hypocrisy either.

Maybe she’s tried to vicariously place her kids in ‘real’ magic tracks and only succeeded in Amity... But again, Illusions might not actually be looked down upon, at least on a societal level. There might be some bias amongst covens who think their magic is superior to that of another, but Belos designated Illusions as one of his nine major covens for a reason- And he is definitely a ruthless pragmatist with a utilitarian view of magic.

After all, Boscha mocks Willow’s choice of Plants despite her friend Amelia being there, and Angmar is played off as supposedly better than Gus for it! Granted Plants might be considered lame, while Illusions are even lamer... Bria and her friends evidently weren’t so popular themselves at first;

But regardless, it seems that it could just be a case of kids being hypocritically biased and insulting someone’s choice of magic if it isn’t the same as their own, especially since Potions could easily be seen as weaker than Plants! But maybe it’s just a matter of class, with Potions evidently being an industry that rakes in a lot of snails, so who knows?

Boscha probably doesn’t have a place to speak, and amongst narrow-minded kids, some assumptions might take place, but once you’re an adult... You cool down and can see the importance of these things. And as a seasoned and successful entrepreneur, Odalia is someone always looking for an opportunity to use someone or something;

As an adult with actual real-world experience, Odalia is able to recognize the value of illusions... And, as a gaslighter and manipulator herself, who uses Oracle magic to literally get into people’s heads, and she’d definitely appreciate the mind games and trickery of illusions.

If anything, Odalia might see physical magic as more demeaning and to be offloaded to the lesser workers, to people whose hands are meant to be dirty (with Alador as an exception), while a prim and proper, higher-class person such as herself needn’t bother with labor-associated magic! If there is some bias towards some forms of magic as lofty and for prissy blue bloods, Odalia might just be an example of that.

Plus, illusions could help her business! Amity is clearly set up as the next Alador, as the mindless worker who puts together and innovates with Abominations... With the twins welcoming people into the expo, while Amity physically participates, and it’s likely that Emira and Edric are set up to be the social factor of the business!

They’re meant to be like Odalia, as the managers who organize people, who broker deals and appeal to customers! And illusions would be perfect for presentations, Illusionists have a knack for showmanship as Gus said.

Illusions could be used to cover up the flaws of Blight Industries’ products while embellishing them. It’s implied that Alador’s creations aren’t always as good as they claim to be... Possibly as a result of cutting costs, because this guy CAN make some effective products, but unless Odalia wants him to compensate with an Abomaton 2.0 after the first failed, she otherwise prefers quantity over quality.

So yeah, a deal broker and social butterfly who attends these kinds of gatherings, makes business alliances and appeals to people- Odalia would definitely approve of illusions, even beyond her own treatment of her kids! For all we know she insisted upon it from the get-go, and luckily for Emira and Edric, illusions worked out for them as their personal calling.

Who knows, maybe Odalia wanted to be in another magic track, only for her actual talents to speak for themselves- She proved best at Oracle magic and was placed in it anyway, despite her attempts for other tracks she wasn’t as naturally talented in. It could be a similar case for the twins, who already like to rebel- And Bump could’ve made a case for them to be in Illusions too! Though we know Odalia can threaten Bump to get her way...

But in the end it doesn’t matter, because I think it’s fully in Odalia’s character to appreciate a more subtle approach, especially if she likes to manipulate and use underhanded tactics to compensate for a lack of ‘genuine’ power. If she has the same biases against non-physical magic, she could be just like Lilith, accepting her need to use lowly means to keep up with more honest witches anyway.

And given how Belos’s system makes people compete, it’s possible that EVERY coven thinks the others are weaker in some capacity- Every coven thinks one of the other eight is weak and ‘worthless’, because of bias and arrogance. A bard might dismiss a construction worker as a menial labor brute, while a beast keeper might mock a potion-maker for relying on bottles and elixirs, instead of controlling powerful demons!

This type of elitism ingrained into society, resulting in bullies and competition, possibly some people trying to make peace with covens they didn’t truly want to join through and inflated sense of superiority... These seem in-character for the coven system, and how bullies like Boscha exist, while people like Kikimora and even Lilith feel the need to betray, backstab, and cheat to win.

It’s all a toxic system... And at the very least, to get back to the original point- I think it makes sense for Odalia to approve of illusions, or at least tolerate them enough to live with it, especially when you already have rebellious twins who are willing to stand up to their parents and can’t be threatened to stand down the way Amity initially was.

Emira and Edric might’ve chosen it for themselves, and it was something Odalia knew they’d insist upon to Bump, no matter how hard she tried- So it was out of her control, and Alador might’ve convinced Odalia to let them be. He recognizes the value of letting his kids be independent, because it adds to their strength and ‘usefulness’.

As a long-term thinker not blinded in the moment by personal pride and need for control like Odalia, Al very well could’ve explained to her how illusions can work; Again, what I said about presentations and advertisement. Alador could’ve spoken to Odalia and gotten her to calm down, reasoning why illusions could be better in the long run, because they need another Odalia to run the company after her.

As for who will work Abominations, it only takes one witch as Alador himself as proven, and they’ve got another daughter who is much more under their thumb and easy to control. Let Amity take that burden, they can make her do whatever they want, unlike the twins... And again, that pressure to make up for the roles the twins had forsaken, and live up to her father’s genius, would just add to Amity’s need to be perfect.

Granted, Alador and Odalia expected Amity to join the Emperor’s Coven until only recently, which doesn’t seem like a position she could reconcile while working with Blight Industries. But maybe Alador intended to keep working, and use Amity as a means to secure an alliance with the Emperor’s Coven that has Blight Industries set, no longer needing to innovate, just replicate his work... In which case, be careful what you wish for!

Plus, if it’s Alador who suggested the use of the twins in illusions, maybe it was always more his idea to have his kids split between different roles to continue the company on their own, while Odalia had looked to the more ambitious option of a deal with the Emperor’s Coven, military-industrial complex style, to secure their futures.

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[alltooreid]

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing. 

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None! 

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . .  Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”                    

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . .  Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup​ @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup​ @s1utformgg​ @averyhotchner​ @widow-cevans​ @rotinireid​

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.I)

Hello! This is a C!Technoblade X reader, however its a tad bit of a AU mixed with the dream smp, and the Smp Earth. I had heavy inspiration from ClearMiller’s Animatic on youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdGImEfG4Mk  (there is the link! its amazing I so I hightly recommend checking it out!)

I hope you enjoy! -Saturn

warnings: mentions blood

words: 1,317

pt.I pt.II 

   "Have you herd of the Antarctic Empire?"

   The soft voice had startled you a bit. To used to the clank and ring of your hammer bouncing off the anvil. You spared him a glance to show you were aware of his presence. The question hung in the air as your father slowly shuffled through the door. The limp in his step evident. You hummed in agreement, not taking your eyes off the anvil before you. Not wishing to burn yourself or ruin your work. The Empire was the largest and most well known. Many of the people that resided there were labeled as dangerous. To this day the rumors stood that the country was built upon bloodshed. There leader, the Emperor, was the one everyone feared the very most. The glowing blade in your hand weighed heavy, keeping you mindful as you stuck the heated metal. The sheer warmth radiating from your craft had sweat beads running down your forehead, causing stray hairs to cling to your face.

   "To be fair i believe everyone has nowadays" you hit the blade again, with a stasifying "Clink" causing sparks to fly off. You worked the metal with ease, almost as if was made of clay, bending it to where you pleased.

   The elder man's eyes flickered between her and the blade. The heat from the blade, and the flames from the the forge caused a warm atmosphere. Light dancing everywhere on the stone walls, Illuminating the your face as it contorted into a thought. "Why do you ask?" You inquired. Pausing your hits on the blade as to not miss hit or possibly hit a finger. You lifted your head with a sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow, facing your father.

   "The Generals have sent a request to every small village black smith." The man ran a aged hand over his beard, as he paused. Slowly sitting on a discarded stool. No longer able to stand long due to his pain. "They would like a fine blade. Handcrafted out of the best material we have access to" he cleared his throat. You could tell he was weary of informing you. "If you choose to offer a blade, you will be payed handsomely they so said, but on the condition that its hand delivered"

   ah yes, there's the catch.

   Your face contorted briefly, "hand delivered? Are they crazy? They live in the middle of a ice cube" you scoffed. Even if the idea of good pay interested you, Your father was respectfully definitely out of commission for work. After the raid that terrorized your small village, many of the men from your village were left injured, some beyond repair. Your father although luckily alive, was one of the ones left with permanent damage. "Why don't they ask there own smiths to craft them one" you placed the blade down fully, walking to a stool by your father, figuring this is a good enough time to take a break.

   He hummed amused "well word is they don't have the resources to make said weapons, sure iron maybe, but there looking for something much stronger.". Everyone knew Diamonds were the best material you could have, however you were not from Africa, so diamonds were not as lucky. You watched him, your father wouldn't have brought this up for no reason.

   "Right" you paused trying to think of a way to ask the meaning of this conversation, ultimately just choosing to be blunt. "Why bring this up?".

   Your father rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit he possessed. " (y/n) you have a gift. No matter what material your given you pour your heart and your strength into it. Your blades are nothing short of amazing". Pride filled your heart at his words. Praise from him meant the world to you. Where your mother praised your work daily. Even if she found your craft boy-ish, your fathers praise was rare. Only voicing it when you did something truly magnificent. "I was hoping you would craft a blade and deliver it. If not for your name, do it for mine. The money would really help us." His eyes were kinder, somewhat pleading.

   "You... want me to enter a blade...?" You worded it carefully. Thinking on what he said. He gave a simple nod as a response. "You don't seriously mean.." his face in that moment said it all. He wanted you to, you didn't have to. But it was obvious the nudge was present. "Do I have time to think about it?" Your father nodded again.

   "I'll show you the letter, your choice doesn't have to be now. However, since you are of age you can freely travel, so I thought maybe it would interest you. Since young girls seem to have a knack for adventure. Again, if you do not choose to I understand." He rested a steady hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

   The talk with your father had your mind restless for the next two weeks to come. After reviewing the letter, you were able to determine they would pay you to bring your crafted weapon. If your blade was made well enough they also would buy it off you for a large sum. You were torn. the money would greatly help your parents, not only that but, your village was near desolate. Depending on the sum given the money could go towards buildings and repairs. However, if you stayed you wouldn't have to leave your parents, and have to battle the climates to get your weapon there. after all that was the biggest problem you were facing. 

   Soon you made your mind up, you would craft a blade. you would craft the best blade they had ever laid their eyes on. You gathered your materials and what you deemed fit, Diamonds and Netherite. You had come across Netherite when trading for materials. The gentleman you bought them off said it was a strong material if used properly. However, he was never able to find the correct use for the strange material. Luckily a mistake you made ages ago with testing, turned out to be the correct mixture needed to make Netherite what it was claimed to be. For what you were aware no one used Netherite, for what you were going to use it for, you hoped that your new material would prove useful, and as strong as the man had claimed.

   At that you had pushed yourself and got to work. putting your literal blood, sweat, and occasional tears into this blade.

   The shear weeks trying to prefect this monster of a sword had definitely taken a toll. you were tired. Yet you still had to prep and ready yourself for your long aching trip to the empire. with the blade finished, it was a pure work of art at that. The blade itself was black, the glittering of purple and a pearlescent blue danced with the light when you moved it. The hilt was just as sturdy as the blade, the handle wasn't uncomfortable, wrapped in leather and ensured for the possible long term use. You were proud. 

   You put the sword into the sheath. carefully wrapping it up in a cloth to insure it will not be damaged. from then you moved to packing. you packed clothes, and heavy ones at that, then little other things you think you may need. you genuinely had no idea how long this trip would take. 

   After talking to a nearby harbor you were able to secure a ride to the empire, with the payment of labor. so when you were ready for your trip, you lovingly said your goodbyes to your neighbors, and your parents. Your father had a hard time saying goodbye, but he also knew you would make him so very proud. with everything now set in stone you were on your way to the Antarctic Empire.

[swiftgronmasterpost]

The Swiftgron Timeline Remastered

Hey Guys!  It’s Cam from @whatiwillsay

It’s high time the Swiftgron Masterpost was updated with more content and a cross reference of the Achele timeline and other newly learned information.

Now if you’re just looking to prove that Swiftgron is real to your friends click here for a more succinct summation of proof.  But if you want to read the sad, beautiful, tragic (no that’s not a Swiftgron song) story of Swiftgron, to go through the ups and downs, from the Hunger Games to SNL this is the place for you!

I was inspired to do this partially by this conversation.  TL;DR is there was some lively discourse in the fandom about who the breakup songs on Red are about.  

Personally, it doesn’t make sense to me for them to be about Dianna when the falling in love songs are obviously about her (mentions of green eyes, her name in the 22 liner notes, ect.)  For one quick example: the songs The Last Time and Come Back...Be Here were written and recorded right around the same time.

I’m sorry but I just cannot fathom those two songs being about the same person.  One is about the softest start to a relationship you’ve ever imagined - pining away and missing someone you barely know but are already infatuated with and the other is a gut wrenching heartbreak song about someone you’ve been on and off with for a long time.

Furthermore the Swiftgron masterpost and timeline was laid out by either Kaylors or general Gaylors, but no one who seems to have an in depth knowledge of Achele or even of Taylor’s relationships before Dianna, other than Emily which by all accounts ended in 2008.  

So I wanted to fill in all the blanks left open on the original Swiftgron masterpost to see if it’s possible that it missed anything.

Plenty of this data will still come from the original Swiftgron masterpost and shoutout to them for building such an amazing document!  It’s a great primer but it does gloss over a lot of events such as the Glee tour in the summer of 2011, the circumstances around all the early Swiftgron meetings, and the obvious Achele interactions through early winter 2012, and of course it’s missing all the weird late stage Swiftgron social media shenanigans.

I wanted to make this masterpost to be able to stand alone so I ripped some gif sets and other info (mostly on Achele) that I didn’t personally build because I don’t ever want anyone running into dead links.  If you see an edit or content you made that I haven’t credited please let me know and I will credit you or remove it if you really want me to.

The other reason I made this was I wanted to have one succinct and chronological place to store every single Swiftgron photo, video, or media of any other type.  If it’s Swiftgron related I will find it and add it here.  If I missed something you can let me know by reaching out to me on my usual blog @swiftgron-get-married. 

For those of you that are new to Gaylor here’s a few notes:

1.  If Taylor seems fruity to you it’s cause she does to everyone else.  Welcome.

2.  Swiftgron is the pairing of Taylor Swift and Dianna Agron.

3.  Achele is the pairing of Dianna Agron and Lea Michele.  It happened before Swiftgron (I think summer 2009 - Early 2012).  Achele was real 100%.  Go to Achele References on Tumblr for more info but just know I have reason to believe Achele actually dated beyond public information.  Take that with a grain of salt of course and look at the evidence for yourself.

4.  At some points in this document I reference a forum called The L Chat - that place is a wasteland of biphobia, transphobia, and other gross things but they did closely track Swiftgron and Achele.  I don’t recommend going there as it can be very triggering to some.  I have gone and pulled out relevant data so you don’t have to go there.

5.  There is a notion in the Gaylor fandom that Dianna was toxic, a serial cheater, and I’ve even heard the word “abusive” thrown around due to the fact that the breakup songs on Red do seem to be about a toxic relationship - Taylor has said as much.  

Given what I’ve heard about DIanna from people who have actually had contact with her - this would be incredibly out of character.  She does have the reputation of being a bit of a player but is literally famous for how kind, giving, compassionate, and amiable she is to fans, coworkers, and friends alike.

I believe that this document proves that due to events on the timeline that although Swiftgron definitely had their ups and downs (Babe definitely suggests at least one instance of a lack of faithfulness, and I’ve clocked at least two obvious breakups before Taylor commits to Karlie and the Swiftgron romance is over for good) however the idea that it was a completely toxic mess is just not supported by actual public data, gathered evidence, and Taylor’s own music and words.

With that enjoy!  The pandemic has done some weird things to people hasn’t it?  This what I did instead of going outdoors.  (I streamed Folklore six billion times while building this, honestly it was a blast!)

Click here to keep reading!

Orrrr 

If you want to skip all the preamble of Achele and Tayliz click here to jump into the Swiftgron Spring!

Table of Contents

Early Stages - Ships Passing in the Night

The 2011 Vanity Fair Oscar Party

Spring 2011 - The Achele of it All

The 2011 Met Gala Klossgron Extravaganza

Glee Live Tour Part 1 - Achele is ON

Glee Live Tour Part 2 - Rivergron in Paris

Glee Live Tour Part 3 - Seriously what the fuck was Shirtgate

Glee Tour Part 4 - Dianna’s Gay Panic Shirtgate Essay

Let’s Check In With Taylor - Speak Now Tour and Tayliz

Fairfax Flee Market - Finally Some Swiftgron!

Fall 2011 - Red and Achele winds down

Winter 2012 - Achele sunset / Swiftgron dawn

The Swiftgron Spring - Everything Changes

Shirley MacLaine’s Birthday

Dianna’s 26th Birthday

The Swiftgron Summer Part 1 - Dominick’s and The Glaad Awards

The Swiftgron Summer Part 2 - Hyiannis Port and The First Breakup

Fall 2012 - They Reuinte in Paris and Haylor Rises

Winter 2013 - The Beginning of the End

Spring 2013 - Fall 2013 - The End?

Winter 2014 - Taylor is Clean but then Swiftgron never goes out of Style

Late Stage Part 1 Spring 2014 - Winter 2018

Late Stage Part 2 Spring 2018 (Babe!) - Fall 2019 (SNL!)

Late Stage Part 3 Folklore Shenanigans 

Late Stage Part 4 Evermore!