#whatever. read this article and answer these questions

[n0tamused]

I have a request!!

Currently watching suits (highly recommend). How about a Lawyer! reader x Dr. Ratio, Sunday, and Aventurine?

₊˚⊹♡ "My partner is a lawyer!"

A/n: This request has been marinating in my inbox for way too long, but regardless, I do hope that whoever reads this enjoys it!<3 I love this request, so please feel free to request more characters for the same prompt! I missed writing Ratio chat </3 Admittedly, I did not watch Suits (shame on me ikik shut up), and so idk really how they talk on the show, so whatever I mentioned here is a dramatized version from my own knowledge in law.

Contents: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine/Sunday(separate) x GN!Lawyer!Reader, fluff

Ko-Fi |  Masterlist

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Veritas Ratio

-As a man of knowledge himself, Veritas certainly holds great appreciation for those that are keen on learning and executing the knowledge they hold, and he is most appreciative of justice - which as a natural course involves admiration for you as well

-He has heard of your achievements far long before he met you. A few times he read the articles you wrote for the local news agencies, but he held most interest for the online educational videos you put out. They were short, concise and aimed to help the people that were not in the financial situation that would allow them to seek out their own lawyer

-So when he did meet you he was full of chitter and chatter for you, all contained in a well crafted box of mannerisms and polite words. But anyone from the outside would notice that he seemed much more tolerable with you than with others

-Many months down the line and with his hand in yours, he wonders how it all came to be - him? Romantically involved with you? 

-If you have a haunch over a certain theory or a certain topic, Veritas is there with you to explore it further and give his own input on the topic. Doesn’t matter if it is a subject that’s not the most familiar to him - he is a sponge for knowledge and knows how to research efficiently.

-He respects your privacy which you uphold with your clients -that is only to be suspected of you to do, otherwise if you told him of the “tea” from your clients, he would have begun to raise an eyebrow and question your work ethics

“Dear,” he began with a huff as he came to stand in your doorway, one hand holding up papers which were clearly not his. “I found the documents you were looking for. Be more careful next time with where you put them” he said as he walked inside your shared bedroom, his slippers making the distinct noise across the floor of shliiippp-shloop. “Where were they?” you question, confusion marking your entire face as you reached out to take the documents scribbled with your handwriting. “I found them on my pile” was all he said as he crawled onto his side of the bed... .... “Veritas..” “Hmm,. yes?” “Is this your handwriting?” The answer was clear as day as you noted the long paragraphs underneath the  big block of text you wrote about a legal theory you wished to dive deeper in. You had stared at them in your sleepy daze, for a moment thinking it was your writing which you, somehow, forgot about. But no, your eyes did not deceive you. Dr. Ratio clearly spent a lot of time on this document. Did he intentionally take it from your pile? One had to wonder. His greed for knowledge sickened you.. He huffs beside you in feigned denial and you chuckle at him.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Aventurine

-When Aventurine was served the fact you work in the legal field he gave off a crisp whistle, his first thoughts being “that must be a lot of words”, accompanied by a lighthearted jest that he now has someone who he can rely on should he get in trouble. At that you have to jokingly reprimand him and tell him to not get into any unnecessary trouble

-He might start to tease a little, throwing out little remarks that frame that stereotypical view people have on lawyers, or anyone working in the legal field for that matter

“I have cash on me right now that I’d be more than happy to pass on into your capable hands, should you agree to…pull me out of this sticky situation” he says with a wink as he waltzes into your office, his eyes taking in the shelves stacked with books old and new, as well as the statue of a blindfolded woman holding up the scales. His gloved fingertips touch one of the scales, making it tip down. His answer is a long and tired sigh.

-But one day he surprised you with a box of sweets after a particularly harrowing case, his tone unusually mellow and inviting as he invited you to join him for a walk. 

-Aventurine is not the man you go for if you want to have a chat about one legal theory or the other, but if you find yourself in a pinch and could use getting a word with someone out of your reach - Aventurine can make a few calls to help you out

“How do you even have the patience for all this?” he asks incredulously, his pointer finger touching one of the thick files resting on top of your desk. “Don’t tell me you actually read all of this” his figure seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging, face falling, trailing around the table to come up next to you. “I did..” you replied, focusing far too much on the papers before you. “You’re way too boring” he countered, followed by a quick kiss to your cheek.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Sunday

-Before the Dream shattered, Sunday didn’t think too highly of anyone who wished to uphold justice within Penacony, deeming there was simply no need for it while he was working to set the perfect order. There is no crime, no faulty businesses or people to sue in his world, and there is no place for them either. So why should lawyers and judges exist?

-Of course, this view was nothing but another way he deceived himself into believing that the path he was following was right, just even. This view changed drastically after the shackles on his body were lifted.

-Sunday considers the job rather prestigious. If there were no people like you, or people with the same wish to bring justice and security to your society as you do, the world would be a much darker place

-He is silent in his curiosities and admiration, never directly asking you inquiries, partly due to some guilt still eating away at him from his past

-But he does not shy away entirely if you approach him first

-He knows more about the ways an old monarchy would work, but he welcomes your insight on the society you live in now and strives to build and enhance by giving yourself to this role. A part of him also worries when he sees you haunched over your table instead of resting in your quarters. Not once did you wake up with a blanket drawn up over you or a refreshing drink sat in front of you

-Sunday doesn’t quite believe it once your relationship develops into one of romance. It was most unexpected and it leaves him with more questions than answers. But now, he finally feels at ease to fire them at you

“But why?” One of his wings sags lower than the other, as if burdened by the piercings they hold. “Would that not be counterproductive or unjust, rather?” He is looking down in thought, his brows drawn closer together, although his voice carries no frustration or denial to the wisdom you were sharing. “The ones who set this law down have inspected the longest duration a pregnancy can last, even taking into account any abnormalities that can happen during the same. If the duration for this lawsuit was unlimited, it would risk the position of the man that was suspected to be the father”. A moment passes in silence, but then he nods, his wings raised back up with newfound strength and another question already filtering in through those soft grey feathers

-Conversations with him are mellow, although Sunday spends more time listening than talking himself. He lets you rave on about anything that may be making you happy or frustrated at the moment, and he is at his happiest when you return to him with another successful case under your belt.

-After a little while you may also notice Sunday becoming even more aware of his actions - suddenly he is nitpicking his wording or the actions he takes - what if someone decides to sue him for this small thing? You have to reassure him a few times that the law is not that strict, giggling while you’re at him when you see his almost fearful and alert face, wings puffy and in a cramp

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[bronzetomatoes]

crazy thing is that this assignment is crazy easy and i'm even interested in the subject matter but it's more about the principle of not wanting to do an assignment

[that-was-anticlimactic]

friends!!! what is a writing skill you wish you learned in school? like... it could be something specific in grammar/grammar-related, maybe about how to revise, maybe you wish you learned about different/specific genres, maybe how to write setting... whatever it may be!!! i'm doing a thing on tuesdays and would LOVE y'all's opinions on what kind of stuff to find to add for them to choose!

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals Pt. 4

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: First, I read an article on burns to try and make this as accurate as possible, (article here by the NIH) but it’s still not terribly accurate. So, please, I tried lol. Secondly, I’m still screaming at the amount of love you guys have shown this series. Truly, I appreciate it more than y’all know. Thirdly, enter in a little extra dash of drama by Gloria (who redeemed herself in ep.12 but we ain’t there yet) and ya girl is just having a rough-ass day. Fourthly, yeah…she’s a thick chapter. Hopefully, it's still good because I’ve edited it as much as I can. As always, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for the support and for being here. Much Love, Jenn

Warnings: Mentions of death, language

Words: 10k +

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Whitaker proved to be an adept student. He followed directions well and answered whatever questions you threw his way about proper wound care at home and possible infection risks around the burned areas. When you’d finished with the first patient, you ensured he knew to return to the emergency room immediately if they experienced any new or persistent discomfort, like pain or tenderness in the area, increased warmth, discoloration, or advanced swelling. 

“If the infection is invasive and takes hold of the wound, what is the main course of treatment, Dr. Whitaker?”

“We would contact surgery.”

“Correct. Why?” 

“The need for surgery would be based on the high concentration of the bacteria levels found present in the wound.”

“We’d check for signs of possible sepsis and a full check-up to narrow down if it's gram-negative or positive bacteria, which tells us further about our treatment plan. What is the chief cause of burn wound infections?”

“Staphylococcus Aureus - MRSA.”

“How would we verify the patient had MRSA or any other type of possible bacterial infection?” 

“By taking a sample from the area for testing -“

“You guys aren’t about to cut me up or anything, are you?”  

The sudden input from the patient caused a nervous tick from Whitaker. It halted his hands from finishing the last few loops around with the gauze. The patients' eyes darted nervously from you to Whitaker and back again. You gave your best reassuring smile while making sure the dressing was secured on his chest and shoulder.

“Well, Kyle, the faster we get you out of here, you take the antibiotics I prescribe you, and make sure you keep your burns dressed and away from exposure to possible germs, then no. We won’t be ‘cutting you up’ today.”

“Okay. Cool. Because that sounds really uncool.”

Dilaudid truly did wonders for conversations. You’d have to make sure the discharge papers were clear on his care and warning signs to look out for. Plus, add extra emphasis on trying to make sure not to share any items in the frat house bathroom. 

In truth, it wasn’t him, but his fellow frat boy neighbor in four that had you worried. So far, he showed no obvious signs of infection, but once the adrenaline of the moment wore off he noticeably seemed to slip into shock at having half his face, eyelashes, and eyebrow singed off. Not enough shock, however, to keep from asking if he’d make a handsome Harvey Dent for Halloween. 

The burns to his neck and chest indicate to you he was closer to the fire pit than his buddy Whitaker currently patched up. You’d ordered blood work, x-rays, and a culture swab on two-face and his friend just to rule out any surprises. 

You did your full assessment, asked questions, and directed Whitaker the best you could. You wanted to be the good mentor like Adamson and Singh had been for you. A good mentor like Robby was too. You would never admit it out loud but a small piece of you wanted Robby to see how capable you were. A silent bid to prove he could trust you with his interns and medical students. Between Robby, Abbot, and the previous attendings you knew you could teach. 

It wasn’t a hidden thing that you’d both meet here during your residency. Yes, it was Adamson’s circus, but Robby thrived under Adamson’s direction and the insanity the Pitt offered. He was funny, charismatic, incredibly smart, and showed a level of empathy that bordered on worrisome at times. A tidal wave of grief encapsulated him and carried him under if he wasn’t careful. Robby was exactly the physician any patient should want taking care of them when they arrived in the ED. 

And hell, you weren’t blind. Anyone with eyes could see that Robby was handsome. Painstakingly, stupidly, egregiously, fucking handsome. It was fucking criminal. 

Robby taught you so much in the time you’d spent here and you knew he probably still could but that would mean being around him. The two of you standing closer than you’d been in years was proving to be a dangerous thing. He’d fallen back into the habit of stealing touches and you’d fallen back into the habit of shamelessly teasing him with things he’d usually make you pay for later trapped between his body and whatever surface in your house.

It was a dangerous game neither of you realized you were playing, and both of you were losing fast. Instead of having your focus one hundred percent on the patients and being back in the ED for the first time in years, your focus repeatedly returned where it shouldn’t. At first, you could lie to yourself and say you were simply scanning the hallways and nursing stations to make sure you didn’t see him. Of course, that’s what you wanted to believe; to coast through this shift without any additional emotional trauma following you home. 

It was fucking impossible.

You could continue to lie to yourself all you wanted, but the truth was blatantly clear. Your eyes didn’t comb over the hallways and desks in hopes of not finding him. You didn’t quickly peer into rooms in anticipation that he wouldn’t be in one. You wanted to see him just as much as you denied that you didn’t. 

The day you left, you made sure to do it while Robby was working because you knew, that if he’d been home and asked you to stay, you would’ve. And if he didn’t fight for you - never uttered a singular word of pleading to keep you from leaving, you weren’t sure you could survive it. 

So now you found yourself hopelessly looking for him in all the places you swore you’d never go again. You may have chosen to leave, but it never meant you stopped loving him. The fact you were still in love with him made seeing the lost look in his eyes sting harder. You watched as he spoke to the parents of the kid who overdosed with no possible hope of waking up again, and you wanted to go to him. It was the shattering look of grief that made you forget how to move. Robby knew what was coming better than anyone else did. 

How many times was Robby the one in charge of giving the heartbreaking news that loved ones weren’t coming home? Shouldering the burden of listening to the breakdown of their world and being the pillar of strength and comfort while families struggled to rearrange? 

You hadn’t realized the black hole of anxiety was leading you down a rabbit hole until the sound of Whitaker calling out, “Dr. Fullerton,” at your side left you practically jumping out of your skin. 

Shit. How long had you been zoned out? Hopefully, you hadn’t said anything weird. Or incriminating.

“Sorry,” he swiftly followed up. “I was trying to ask where we were off to next, but, uh, you seemed a little…preoccupied.”

“Oh, yeah, no sorry. You can go back to the red zone. I’m just going to help McKay up in triage.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, not at all. You’ll have more of a chance to learn with Langdon and Collins.” What you actually meant was to see more if that was what he was into. “Also, maybe check on your last patient I pulled you away from earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You watched him take your advice and, in real time, get ready to dispute it. “Why am I checking back in with Mr. Milton?”

What should you tell him? In the Pitt, it was easy to be thrown from one patient to the next - forgetting their faces and names as the minutes blurred into hours. Easy to forget they were waiting on test results that needed to be read by you and needed a treatment plan discussed and planned by you. Major issues could present as something small, something easily missable until further testing exposed the truth of the situation. If you went just the smallest amount of time without checking the results, without popping your head in for a visual, well, it wasn’t hard to imagine how sometimes those major issues finally presented themselves and everything got much, much worse. 

“Look, Whitaker. As much as the powers constantly stress about getting people in and out quickly like this is a drive-thru, we have an obligation to each patient to give them the best care we can. It means staying on top of orders and checking in regularly. Trust me, Whitaker, things can change quickly down here.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You bet. See you around, Whitaker.”

He gave you an awkward wave and didn’t move right away. It wasn’t until you turned away from him that you heard him shuffle on his feet. A part of you was curious if you glanced behind you he’d still be standing there, deciding where to go.   

All that mattered to you was that you currently needed a new patient. It didn’t matter what the chief complaint was. Ideally, for the all-seeing eye of admin, quick and easy ones would look better. At this rate, you were positive your Press Ganey score was dipping. You were seeing patients at the speed of an R3; two patients per hour and they were after fast and loose results. But you wanted something with the capability to keep you occupied for hours. Preferably something that would require so much of your attention it would force you out of your head. 

Yeah, that would be good. It was too damn early still to be spiraling into a midlife crisis just because you had to work with your ex. An ex, you realized, who was wearing the damn navy blue hoodie you’d bought him on his last fishing trip to Canonsburg. 

No. No. Nope. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him or stupid hoodies or the gold chain of his necklace that used to drag over your collarbone. How your fingers curled around the thin chain, using it like a lead, to bring him down on top of you on the couch. Absolutely not - you were at work and he was your ex. He was your ex and you shouldn’t fucking care how you could still tell after all these months he was sleeping like shit. 

You were almost back to Dana’s station, the monitor looming overhead like a beacon to salvation when you noticed Whitaker walking in tandem beside you. You cocked a brow in question that Whitaker rushed to answer. 

“The board is this way, so…”

Right. You knew that. 

“I was trying to talk to you but I think you were in deep thought or something. Again.”

Or something. God. That was twice. Twice your head was everywhere else but where it needed to be, which was at work. You should’ve fought harder when Gloria came to reassign you, but none of this should’ve mattered. 

You were a damn good doctor. You’d trained under the best, learned from the best, and kept progressively learning and didn’t stop. You spent years of your life on this because helping people was your passion. It shouldn’t matter where you were placed if you were down here to help for days, months, or years. 

Yet, in the matter of an hour, your mind waded into memories that were better off left for dead with your eyes searching for someone you shouldn’t. 

You didn’t know how to answer him. “Sorry, I should remember where everything is but find myself stuck daydreaming about the past and looking for signs where I shouldn’t and sexually fantasizing about your attending”, didn’t seem appropriate to tell a med student. So, you ended with a weak, “Sorry about that,” which passed for understanding. It made you feel like an ass, but you didn’t trust yourself to speak. 

You came to a stop just a few feet from Dana’s desk. Her back turned to you as she went through folders preparing patient's charts for transfer upstairs. Her eyes shifted up at the board and over to a newer resident you hadn’t met yet. 

Her gaze was fixed on the monitor; eyes scanning rapidly down the chart as if there was a code that needed cracking. You knew that look. It was a shared one you’d no doubt mirrored only an hour ago. 

“What do you need, Fullerton?”

Your head swiveled back to Dana and found her now facing you, her glasses removed, and waiting for your answer. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Are you kidding?” The question fell out of her in a chuckle. “You’re the only one I know who goes around taping on every damn surface when they’re thinking. You act like my five-year-old grandson, just less noisy. Barely.”

“That’s offensive,” you pointed out. 

“For who? You or my grandson.”

You felt the first crack in your defenses tug at the corners of your mouth. If you weren’t careful, Dana’s whip-smart comments were going to make you fold back into a routine you hadn’t been a part of in a while. It wasn’t just you who was slipping at this point, and you clocked the moment Dana began to realize it too. 

She was supposed to be upset with you - grumpy, mean remarks only. You were supposed to take them and dish them back so you could comfortably stay in your bubbles of denial and anger. The denial of what, exactly, was achingly easy to see. 

You both missed each other. More than either of you were willing to admit. 

Your reply sat cocked and loaded on your tongue when you remembered what transpired half an hour before. As much as you missed one another, you had to be careful with what you shared around her. It was obvious, whatever the ‘It’ may be, Robby would magically seem to find out. 

“Any quick ones up here? It’s only 8:30, and Robby’s already on my case for being too slow. I can usually at least make it to lunch before he starts hounding me.” 

Your attention swiveled back towards the resident. Her gaze fixed on the board before glancing between Dana and you. Hopefully, her question wasn’t meant for you to answer. You weren’t very good at picking off the board either. 

“Cut him a little slack today, ok? It’s the anniversary of Dr. Adamson’s death.”

Of course, Dana would cover for him. Intercept all incoming rapports of Robby being prickly and sometimes downright mean to bury them under the rug of understanding. 

Yes, it was the anniversary of Adamson’s death. It always would be. Grief wasn’t easy. It was messy and unrelenting in the moments it chose for sights, smells, and touch to materialize memories that recalled moments you wouldn’t get the chance to share with them again. A constant reminder of all that we lost. Time didn’t seal up that cavern their loss created; it just became more manageable over time. 

Robby never coped. Never allowed himself to grieve, heal, and thrive in the good memories he did have. The doubts and guilt haunted him every day in every step, every decision, he made. He housed it inside him like a ghoul in a cemetery feasting on the remains of who he was before Adamson’s death - before the pandemic. 

“That’s sad. But it’s still no reason to take it out on me. I’m just saying.”

You liked her. She got it. You wanted to properly introduce yourself. By the look on Dana’s face, you need to do it quickly before she breaks out into a lecture. Luck wasn’t on your side because Whitaker beat you to the punch. 

You didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation but you also didn’t want to go back to having a conversation with Dana, either. It left you the only option of staring back up at the beloved board. You’d just decided on 7 North when Dr. Collins walked by, her hands digging in the glovebox on the wall to retrieve a pair. Her eyes were on Whitaker and yours were on her. 

It wasn’t a secret that Robby and Heather had dated. Well, maybe to those in the Pitt, and not including Perlah or Princess because they suspiciously seemed to be psychic. Or just really loved to gossip. No, you’d learned about them when a friend spotted Robby and Heather out on a date. You’d only assumed it was a date because she repeatedly kept using the word cozy. 

And why should you have cared? It’d been almost a year since you’d left. You chose to leave and that meant making him free to date and find new love or whatever. You didn’t have a right to lay claim to him just because he’d been yours. And Heather? She was gorgeous. She was fucking brilliant, with a beautiful smile, and it suddenly made you feel uncharacteristically subconscious. 

Whether it’d been a date or they just seemed cozy (it was a damn date) you shouldn’t have felt jealous. You were fine. It was perfectly fine and healthy for people to seek out relationships and companionship. It was normal and you were fine. You weren’t any saint either. You’d dated someone briefly and, if you were honest with yourself, you could’ve stayed in that relationship. It was nice and easy. Simple. But you didn’t love him and you weren’t sure if you ever could. 

The problem of loving Robby - still being in love with Robby - was that he stood witness to your most intimate memories of love. There were stories woven into your bones that bore witness to the man he was and how he loved you. They were told in joy and tragedy, laughter and sadness. When Nathan kissed you, the earth kept spinning. He didn’t taste of bourbon or smell of leather and sandalwood. He didn’t spend time in the backyard sanding down tables or staining decks. He didn’t wear glasses that somehow slid minute by minute inch down his nose until he subconsciously tilted his head back to see.

In the end, you left because of one glaring fact: Nathan would never be - could never be - Robby.  

Dr. Collins told Whitaker to come with her for a teaching experience - an unconscious unhoused man was being brought in. Whitaker quickly moved to follow her lead in grabbing a pair of gloves just in time for the paramedics to wheel in the gurney. Said man was very much unconscious and appeared very much unhoused. 

Your time playing the gawking bystander had come to an end and you needed to get to 7 North. You pushed away from the counter when you were stopped by the resident from earlier barreling into your line of sight. 

“Dr. Fullerton? I’m Dr. Samira Mohan - R3. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Mohan stuck out her hand and you accepted it warmly. Besides the obvious annoyance from Robby hounding her existence, it seemed Dr. Mohan was friendly. She held a kind air about her that reminded you of Robby - only now that kindness held an edge of grumpiness because his empathy was playing an overwhelming game. By the sleepless bags under his eyes, you could tell he was losing. 

You wanted to point the probability of this out to her, maybe offer her a consultation for Robby’s apparent hard-ass demeanor, but quickly shoved it off. 

“It’s nice to meet you, as well, Dr. Mohan.”

“Would it be okay if I could confer with you later?” Dr. Mohan’s eyes shifted to where Dana stood only inches away. “In private?”

You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or wanting to run for the hills. Dana’s eyes practically bore into the back of your head, waiting to hear your answer. You knew no matter what you chose to say this was getting back to Robby. 

Fuck it. 

“Of course, Dr. Mohan. I’ll come and find you after my next patient.”

“Thank you. I look forward to speaking with you.” 

She cut a cautious glance over her shoulder and turned on her heel towards the south hallway. It must have been nice to make an easy exit. It was definitely something you were down to try but Dana stood closer to the counter, her glasses down the bridge of her nose, and accused you with a look of being a troublemaker. Your only defense was a shrug. 

“What?”

“What the hell was that about?”

Your brows converged together as you shrugged again. 

“How am I supposed to know, Dana? I haven’t even talked to her yet.” 

“Talked to who about what?”

Fucking kill me. 

What was with today? Were you unknowingly walking around with a ‘Kick Me,’ sign written by life? You’d gone over two years without ever running into Robby and within an hour in a half, you couldn’t seem to avoid him. 

And why was he standing so fucking close again? 

You didn’t need to glance over to your left to know he was close. The heat of his body, the nudge of his elbow against your arm informed you at breakneck speed you were close. Too fucking close, Michael. 

“Mohan seems to want to speak with Fullerton. In private.”

“You couldn’t just wait for me to answer, Dana?”

The words rose up your throat like bile, acidic with its irritation. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t need this shit. You didn’t know what Dr. Mohan wanted but the cryptic way she asked wasn’t doing you any favors. It was at this moment you finally chose to look in Robby’s direction. He was leaning into his elbow that rested on the counter. Even with his body slightly slouched the height difference was substantial causing you to crane to look up at him. 

The problem with this? He was close enough that your temporal lobe was overloaded with thousands of memories of his thumb gliding across your lips. Large hands taking hold of your neck and tilting you back at just the right angle for his lips to claim yours. 

When you were no longer held hostage to the sensory manipulation your brain concocted, you prayed to whoever was listening that you didn’t look as lovestruck as you felt. By the dark glint in Robby’s eyes, you were doing a piss poor job at being Switzerland. 

“What? So you can conveniently disappear by the end of the shift without any context or explanation? No, thanks. Been there. Done that. Not a fan of the outcome.”

“This bipolar verbal assault is getting real tiring, Dana,” you huffed. 

“Alright. Alright, enough!” Robby cut in. “I expect this behavior from patients, not my staff. Now, Dr. Fullerton, what did Dr. Mohan want to discuss with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed, “I have no fucking clue, okay? She just asked if she could speak in private and seeing as how she did ask for it to be private, I don’t see why you need to know.” 

“Ugh,” a dry huff of what might have passed for a laugh - a cough maybe? - exited his lips. His brow was drawn tight while he looked at you. No doubt wondering where you’d gained the audacity. “Because this is my emergency department. I’m in charge of the entire thing and I think I need to be aware of what is going on with my staff.” 

“Well, maybe if you stopped acting like an ass to said staff they wouldn’t be seeking outside counsel.”

A mirthless laugh exploded from between his lips. The sound carried part of the disbelief his eyes showed while he took you in. He was no longer leaning against the counter but had his arms crossed against his chest. You weren’t sure if he was looking at you like he wanted to throttle you or found you unbelievable. Neither option would make you a winner if you guessed right.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “Are you a fucking counselor all of a sudden?”

“And what if I was? I would ask if you’d require my services, but we both know you’re allergic to seeking help.” 

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. You were bringing up personal shit - inviting a possible fucking mess to happen - and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You kept poking the proverbial bear and damn it, you weren’t exactly sure you felt bad about doing it. Were you so desperate for a reaction from him - after all this time? What the hell was it going to prove? 

You watched the storm of emotions roll in. The deep set of his forehead and the dark clouds that zapped all residual warmth from his eyes. You weren’t sure if Robby was even aware he’d taken a step towards you, jaw flexing, and body slowly seeping into whatever free space you had left. 

Whatever words he would’ve said died in the aftermath of hearing shouts a few rooms down. It jarred you both out of your staring contest and sent him into action. One minute he was standing in front of you, the next, he was running to see what the commotion was. 

The second Robby was removed from your space, you took a deep breath in. Why did it feel like you were in a constant state of fight or flight? Your answer came in a set of blue eyes who homed in on you the moment Robby was gone. 

“When’s your next smoke break?” 

“Who says I still smoke?” 

“Dana, be serious. The day you quit smoking is the day hell freezes over. So - when?”

She regarded you for a moment. The scale in her mind no doubt weighed if this was going to be worth her time or possibly ruining her nicotine break. 

“I usually take it around 9:30. Why? You suddenly have the urge to open up?”

“Do you want to talk or not?.”

She could bitch, make jokes, and moan and groan all she wanted. You knew offering up a chance to talk would be all Dana would need to agree. Was it something you honestly wanted to do? Not really. Were you willing to do it so that at least you had one less person hounding you the rest of your shift? 

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Ah, what the hell. I’ll see you on break kid.” 

A sigh of relief eased through you and you prayed Dana hadn’t noticed. You didn’t think she’d agree but, now that she had, you had a tiny ounce of hope this day wasn’t going to be so much of a shit show. 

“What was all that screaming about?”

You knew the question wasn’t directed at you. Robby must have made his return and the soft laughter wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“We seem to have involuntarily just admitted rats,” he replied. 

“You’re kidding?” Dana scoffed. 

“If only I was. Whitaker was saying it was about three or four of them.” 

“And on that note,” you drummed your hands on the counter, “I am going to 7 North.” 

It wasn’t until you went to take a step forward you noticed the weight on your left foot. A weight that felt like something was sitting directly on it. You looked down just in time to watch a rat - a damn rat - scurry off your foot to run around the edge of the nursing station. 

What you did next wasn’t your proudest moment. You even used to pride yourself on being rational when it came to rodents. The shout that clawed its way from the depths of your stomach proved you wrong at lightning speed. 

You felt your body jump backward and collide with Robby. His hands were on your hips to steady you. You were bouncing back and forth on your heels, eyes scanning the area to make sure no further surprises snuck up on you. Your arms were bunched up at your sides and you were trying to talk yourself down from sweeping the remaining area with your leg. Just for good measure.

It was the feeling of his hands on your waist, the soft sound of his chuckle touching your hair that brought you careening back down to earth. Robby was close. Not like last time when your arms touched - closer than when he followed behind you into Allan's room. Even through your scrubs, you could feel the scorching heat of his palms spreading like wildfire through the fabric that sent your heart racing. 

He should’ve let go by now. The threat of you possibly knocking him over or you both tripping and falling was over. He could let go. He could just let go, but Robby’s hands were holding you firmly in place with neither of you willing to move. You refused to look behind you - afraid of what he might see if you did.

You were afraid of what you might see if you dared to look too. 

Slowly, you took a step forward, disengaging his hands from you. The sensation of loss was instant and you almost stepped back into him. Your body and mind were at war between desire and being rational. Fuck being rational. There was nothing rational about the way your heart brutalized your ribs. The need to ask stupid fucking questions that no longer mattered. The consuming way your body craved for him to wrap his large hand around your throat, whispering words of filth into your ear. 

You had to get away before you made a mistake. 

“Sorry about that. I’m going to just, ugh, go do my rounds now.”

You didn’t turn around while you softly spoke. You may have been delusional at times, but you weren’t crazy. If you looked back and Robby’s eyes gave away any hint of emotion - anything that sparked that dying ember of hope inside you - you would crumble. 

You should’ve fought harder to stay upstairs in family medicine or threatened Gloria with firing you. You were safer there. Now, you were rushing off to remember what patient room you were going to with Robby’s cologne clinging to your skin. 

You were a pain in the ass. But you were his pain in the ass. 

Used to be, his mind reminded him. 

Could still be, came his stupid heart's reply. 

Robby used to love it when you challenged him; called him out on his bullshit. You weren’t afraid to stand in the current of his disapproval or to openly have a debate, especially when you could see he was missing something. You challenged each other to be open-minded to change, because it happened so fast, and to accept that being wrong wasn’t failure but a moment to grow and learn. 

When you both stopped being open with one another, and being honest with yourselves, was when the challenging energy took a turn. Everything felt like a confrontation. Even in moments when the constructive criticism came from colleagues - from you - it felt like an attack he had to defend against. 

Robby saw it in you too. The small hints of walls slowly being built to keep the inquiries at bay. When your responses become short and brief or not at all. 

Now, before nine o’clock, you were in the Pitt not only wreaking havoc on his already fragile mental state but accusing him of…what? When you’d thrown the counselor's comment at him, Robby wanted to rage. How many times was it the main part of your arguments near the end of your relationship that he needed to talk to somebody? Anybody. How many times did he deny it? 

You’d thrown it in from the sidelines and it jarred him so much, Robby felt disoriented. For the briefest moment, Robby forgot that you were no longer together. His mind reflexively thought you were arguing about the same old tired thing. He’d taken a step toward you and wanted to ask, “And what about you?” 

You who wasn’t as honest and open with yourself just like him. There were things left unsaid between the two of you - the things that eventually buried the hatchet too far in to safely remove. 

What about all the times he’d found you in the bathroom sitting against the tub crying in the middle of the night? Your panic attacks and OCD tendencies that started after…

Every time Robby reached out to be there for you, your response was always the same. 

“It’s nothing, Michael.”  “I’m fine.”  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sure, Robby wasn’t open and was guarded in his own right but neither were you. Where he used to read the transcript of your emotions so delicately on your face, you’d closed yourself off to him and he no longer knew how to get in. 

An angry shout from down the South hallway thankfully tore his attention back to reality. His feet were already moving him robotically forward where he could see Olson entering Central 15. 

“Whoa, whoa what is going on?”

Robby directed the question specifically to one of his many team members in the room. Thankfully, Kiara started to explain or, more appropriately attempted to explain but he couldn’t fucking think through all the damn shouting. 

“Ok, ok, okay ENOUGH!” Robby couldn’t believe he was already raising his voice. Yelling at grown-ass adults like they were children. “This is a hospital. This isn’t ‘ The Jerry Springer Show’.” Although it was really, really starting to fucking feel like it with the morning he was having. “Ma’am, nobody’s trying to take your child. So why don’t you stay here with him while your husband talks to our social worker outside and straightens all this out?”

“Well, I don’t want him speaking for me and my son.”

It was clear by the wavering of her voice, that this was a tough spot for the mom to be in. Robby could sympathize but what he couldn’t sympathize with was starting a miniature war zone in one of his rooms. 

“Well, it is either you or him. Your son is not leaving, but you can be escorted out and even arrested if you refuse to cooperate. Nobody wants that. So you tell us. What do you want to do?”

Robby knew the answer before she replied. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this mother didn’t fiercely love her son. Whatever situation the husband did to get them in this position was unfortunate, but the only option they had now was to press forward. 

“I’m staying with my son.”

“Ok, great. You do that. Are we all on the same page here?”

The last question he sent out was rhetorical. A feeler to see if anyone else was confused about what was about to happen and if further clarification was needed. God, Robby sincerely hoped it’d all been made crystal clear what the only two real options were; the only choice being to cooperate. 

“You okay?”

Robby could see Langdon was shaken up. It could be a lot dealing with a combative patient - harder when it was a parent just trying to make the right choices for their child. You were always the best at coming in and soothing cases like this one. Somehow able to give relief and comfort while giving the most gut-wrenching news of a parent's life while calmly explaining the next steps. You were able to keep people from feeling lost in the bad news and prepare them for the onslaught of change. 

Robby waited until Langdon confirmed he and Dr. King were good before he walked out of the room. Regarding parents with kids, Robby almost forgot Teresa asked to speak with him about David. 

Central 12 was just a few steps away from Langdon’s patient. It was close to being comfortable but too close to give Robby time to think. He felt out of his element here because he was running out of options. He wanted to help Teresa, because, while she did this to help her son, she knowingly put her own life at risk to get him the help he needed. 

But isn’t that what parents did?  

At times, they blindly waded into the fire if it meant that their child would be safe. 

All Robby could do was watch and listen while he told her about how he left. While he followed up her questions with his own and did his best to try and ward off the sick feeling burying itself inside his gut. 

“Do you think David would hurt anyone?”

Even allowing the question to come out of his mouth made a rush of nausea swell back behind his tongue. He didn’t want to ask it. Nobody wants to ask any parent if they think their child - a fucking child - could be capable of harming another human being. 

Robby carried his thoughts on the reasons why young men are more prone to violence these days. With idiotic podcast hosts spewing their hatred for women who were goal-oriented and not focused on babying them like their mothers. Boys who were told to bottle up their emotions: “Don’t share your feelings. Don’t get caught crying,” unless you want to be told that you were weak. There was so much bullshit in the world for kids to have to contend with these days that Robby didn’t find it surprising a lot of them were overloaded - overwhelmed by a constant flurry from the world to be someone different than who they are. 

Robby had plenty of talks with Jake about these things. He found it easy to lean into him with the both of them connecting during shared trips and quiet nights at the house. Robby made sure his stepson knew that Robby would always be a safe place for him to land. When the world got too crazy and if he couldn’t tell his mom Janey, Robby would be there. 

Because that’s what parents do - willingly walk through fire if it meant their kid would be okay.

“The nasal swab came back negative for COVID, RSV, and Flu - which is a good thing.” 

“Then what’s wrong? What about her eyes?”

The her in question was a three-year-old named Jasmine who was vocally letting you both know that she was not in a good mood, which was very fair. Nobody liked being sick. The only issue with her actively voicing her bad mood was that any high octave screams were soon followed up by a violent cough. 

The moment you stepped inside the room you’d been worried about RSV, especially because of her age. Lungs sounded clear with slight wheezing indicated in the upper left lobe. Thankfully, all major possible viruses came back negative. The unfortunate thing was that this specific viral infection just meant mom was going to have to ride it out.

“It’s still a viral infection. The conjunctivitis, since it started coming from both eyes this morning, it’s from the infection and sinus blockage. The whites of her eyes aren’t red in any way. The best thing to do is apply a compress every few hours on the eyes to help with drainage, saline drops, or spray on the nose to help clear up the congestion and suction as often as you can. Over-the-counter cough medicine is fine unless you need a prescription?”

“No, no, it’s okay. We have some at home. So, she’s okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. I just recommend having her sleep elevated to help with drainage and if you have a humidifier, use it. Follow up with her pediatrician in two to three days or come back to the ER if any new or persistent symptoms occur.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

“You’re so welcome. Make sure to wait for a nurse before leaving. I hope you feel better, Jasmine.”

 You gave them both a wave before exiting out of the quiet of the room and back into the noise. The nurse assigned to the room came over and held out a tablet and pen for you to take. Quickly, you scribbled a signature down, because doctors were notoriously known for sketchy penmanship, and began to walk towards a nursing station. 

Technically, you did have a second option you could take before throwing yourself into the next patient room. Dr. Mohan asked to speak with you. She didn’t necessarily give a time or a preference. It was more focused on secrecy, which you found a little odd. This was Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center - it was a rare thing to have a private conversation here. You were curious to find out what it was Mohan wanted, a bigger part of you wasn’t ready for the headache of Robby undoubtedly finding out later. The worst option: is if you were the one who had to tell him to be the advocate for his resident.

The scent of his cologne still held tight to the fabric of your scrubs. Slowly, it was beginning to fade but if you leaned in close enough to your right shoulder you could almost get a hint of -

“Dr. Fullerton.”

You were a millisecond away from calling out, “I wasn’t doing anything!”. Was it too early in the shift to consider a name change?

Glancing over your shoulder, you find Gloria making her way towards you. Each step in your direction sent your fight or flight raging back into gear because fuck no. Between Gloria and Robby, the two of them were about to have you so damn stressed out there was a high chance for premature balding to occur. 

“Oh no. I’ve had enough surprises from you today.”

“I just wanted to have a chat - “

“And definitely enough of those,” you shot back. 

You weren’t exactly sure why you kept moving. If previous experiences told you anything, it was that she would follow you until you stopped on your own or she got you into a corner. At least stopping to face her was a choice compared to being cornered with no way out. 

Resigning to your fate, you took in a big meditative breath through your nose and turned around. 

“What can I help you with, Gloria?”

Your voice was so monotone you sounded like a robot. 

“I’m glad you’ve decided to stop running and actually talk to me like an adult.”

“I’m sorry, Gloria. You brought me down here to assist in decreasing triage wait times and that is what I am doing. Stopping to have a chat with you will reflect poorly on my scores.”

“Cute,” She bit back. The smile on her face was too harsh to be genuine. “Well, it’s funny you mention scores. I’ve been keeping an eye on the numbers and the system is showing barely any signs of process or improvement. Can you explain why that is?”

The simplest answer you could’ve given her came with one name, one word, and one human being. Robby. Robby was your fucking problem; the bane of your existence. 

Gloria shoved you down here not knowing all the variables that could hinder productivity. There were moments of clarity where your brilliance shined through and in a matter of seconds it evaporated again. Realistically, it was your fault. Your inability to control your stupid fucking emotions - you didn’t need to react every time you saw him. 

How could you not react when Robby did exactly the same? 

You weren’t stupid. You’d spent years, months, days, and hours with him. Every minute is accounted for in conversations and touch. It wasn’t insanity (although the jury was still out on that one) that made you believe - to fucking notice - Robby was affected too. 

But no way in hell were you divulging any of your innermost thought demons to Gloria. 

“Look around, Gloria,” you said, arms opening up to motion around the Central rooms. “There are no beds available. You ask for solid care, for good patient satisfaction scores and that requires multiple factors. To be a good doctor you have to listen to the patient's chief complaint that they’ve been waiting almost eight hours to tell you.”

“I am well aware of the current wait times in triage, Dr. Fullerton.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. Problem solved then because once we assess them and decide they need monitoring and tests to ascertain the issue, it’s only another three to six-hour wait. Maybe longer if it’s life-threatening. Not to mention if any trauma patients come rolling through the red zone adding another twenty-five to fifty minutes on their time.”

“I don’t see what any of this has to do with not having any beds. Not every situation in triage necessarily requires a bed to be seen.”

“Gloria, your precious Press Ganey scores are going to stay low if a patient doesn’t get back to a room. You can make beds available by sending people upstairs or how about removing the deceased guy in nineteen who’s been posted here since before I arrived?” 

“Robby is in charge of contacting the coroner's office about picking up the deceased.”

“And yet, the body is still here,” you pondered. “I know Robby, Gloria. He wouldn’t knowingly leave someone’s loved one here if it didn’t mean the coroner is backed up, which means our morgue must house him until then. And why are you complaining to me like I'm attending here? Robby is the attending - “

“I’m well aware of that - “

“You keep saying you’re well aware, Gloria but the fact is it feels like you’re not. It’s easy to come down here making demands but the reality is without the proper staffing and moving boarders out of the emergency department to free up space the numbers will never fucking change. Sending one doctor down here isn’t going to change shit.”

“Are you just about done, Dr. Fullerton?” She did a dramatic pause to allow you time to cut in. “The board and its administration are well aware of the pressures that staff face down here in the emergency department - that all hospitals are currently facing shortages. The fact of the matter is studies show close to seventy-five percent of ER visits are non-life threatening, which means more than half of those patients could be fairly seen in triage without needing a room.”

You could feel your mouth opening; primed for a response that Gloria was not going to let you detonate. Her hand waved to warn you not to cut her off. 

“I don't want to hear any more about boarding or staffing. I want to see the results, Dr. Fullerton. It’s already bad enough that there are rats inside.”

“To be fair, they piggybacked on an unconscious unhoused man, so,” you shrugged. If looks could kill, you’d have dropped dead right then and there. “Not helpful?”

“No. Not helpful,” she confirmed. “I do, however, have a proposition for you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The earlier annoyance at seeing Gloria twice in less than two hours of your shift changed course. Dread ice cold and paralyzing coiled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t like where this was going. 

“Is there a pass option?”

“This is an offer from myself and the administration. So, no, there isn’t a ‘pass option.’ How would you like to be considered for an attending position?”

“No.” 

The word barreled out of you without thinking. You didn’t need to think about this proposition Gloria, the administration, or whoever was trying to dangle in front of you. It was any doctor's dream to become an attending at a facility - it made you the doctor. 

You didn’t want it like this. 

“You didn’t even hear the terms.”

“I don’t need to hear them to know that you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Robby is failing to meet standards -“

“Robby is a fucking good physician.” You fumed. “He’s one of the best physicians in trauma medicine you have here outside of Abbot.”

“No one is disputing that, Dr. Fullerton. The board is open to having you both down here during the morning shift, maybe even making a swing shift for you to help between shifts.”

You raked your hands over your face scrubbing hard to try and cut off a mirthless laugh that came out in patches between your fingers. 

“No - you want me to be a Judas. It’ll be a swing shift until you can get whatever data you need to confirm whatever fucked up plan you’re making.”

“Dr. Fullerton -“

“No!” You didn’t mean to shout the word at her. Or maybe you had. Whatever it was, it surprised you both. You should be quieter - don’t draw attention but your heart was thrashing wildly. Your hand swiped through the air to cut her off before she could attempt to continue. You didn’t want to fucking hear it. “Robby is a damn fine physician and to try and - I don’t fucking know, get rid of him because he doesn’t kiss the boards or your ass is fucking stupid. I don’t know half of what Robby or Abbot knows. I’m not them and it would be beyond idiotic to lose him.”

“Your opinion will be taken into consideration and I’ll dismiss your…outburst, for now, because of the current situation. But make no mistake, Dr. Fullerton this will move forward with, or without, you.”

You wondered if any natural disasters were named Gloria. It seemed possible since she came and created an instant upheaval of your day, completely devastating it in a matter of minutes and once she was done simply went about her day like nothing happened.  

She left you to deal with the aftermath. The rushing thoughts with a million questions - thousands of things you should’ve said to defend Robby. There were dozens of ways you could prove her wrong about him - that he fucking cared about his patients and was such a damn good doctor, phenomenal at times, that to equate all that he was and all that he did down to a simple metric of numbers was fucking ridiculous. 

All the sound in the room began to drown out around you. Somewhere in the background of the hum you heard a shout for help. It could be Code Blue. It could be anything. You tried to get your body to react, but the hurricane of anxiety was sweeping in fast and you were running out of air. 

You needed to sit. You had to act normal because the last thing you needed was Princess or Dana or fucking anybody else coming over to speak with you. Your hands used the counter like a rope to pull you along to the nearest computer. You quickly sat down and swiped your credentials to enter the computer, quickly clicking on anything just to appear busy. 

“How are you holding up today?”

The last person you expected to see at that very moment was Heather Collins. What did you expect? This was an emergency room and doctors worked inside of it. She offered up a close-lipped smile that matched the kindness in her eyes. She was genuinely wanting to know how you were doing and for the first time, you hated the question because you couldn’t answer it. 

Not truthfully, anyway. Who was ever truthful in answering that specific question?

So, you painted on a grin that more than likely resembled a grimace and prayed you didn’t look as tired as you felt. 

“It’s been…an adjustment.”

“What’s taking adjusting?”

Good god, this man was fucking everywhere. 

Robby came into view as he moved across the station to get to the opposite computer. The question was thrown out carelessly; he didn’t expect a response. He was pulling out his glasses and sliding them over his nose, his full focus on the screen. Test results thankfully took priority over your response. 

You were quickly forgotten by Collin’s who walked over to where Robby read the test results. She waited until he removed his glasses and stood to his full height. 

“Please don’t tell me you are going to intubate that poor old man?”

“It’s what the family wants.”

“So what? They want to torture him?”

“I explained all that.” 

It was painfully obvious this was a case you knew nothing about. By the sound of it, you were willing to bet five dollars that it was one of the elderly patients from a home who came in a little after 7:30 that morning. It meant it wasn’t your case. You didn’t need to know the information and you could continue counting down backward from ten while you reminded yourself that no, you weren’t Judas and -

“Dr. Fullerton, if a family came in -“

Fucking hell, you needed to stop zoning out. You brought your attention back to the two of them, wondering what you missed.

“You don’t need to ask her,” Robby interjected.

Collins continued like he’d never spoken. 

“And they had durable power over an elderly family member who had a pre-existing DNR. His family wants to intubate. It’s not what he wants. Whose choice do you honor?”

“What are you doing?” 

A singular brow of hers arched in defiance. 

“Asking for a second opinion.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

They continued to bicker about the decision Robby made to not fight for a dying man’s wishes. You would’ve told Collins to let it go because once Robby’s mind was made up, it was like talking to a wall. Maybe she already knew that. 

God, what fucking twilight zone episode were you stuck in? You actively wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Your eyes darted to the time on the bottom of the screen and you had to fight to keep your forehead from landing with a thud on the keyboard. It was only 9 o’clock. There were ten more hours of this day and you needed it to be over. 

Robby released a sigh that reflected how exhausted you felt. It wasn’t a physical exhaustion but one of the soul; a weariness that vines grew thorns and were beginning to tear you slowly open. You could feel your legs wanting to shift out of the chair and go to him. The urge was so strong your hands scrunched into fists to keep from moving - to quell the urge because he wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his. 

“Shit.”

“What?”

Robby’s best magic trick? Deflecting. Whenever he wanted the current conversation to end, and didn't like where it was heading, he diverted it completely into something else. Anything else that kept him from having to continue down a conversation he wanted no part of. You knew that trick all too well. 

“I got to go tell those parents their 18-year-old son is brain-dead.” 

“You want me to go with you?”

It should’ve been you offering to go with him. A comfort to the harbinger of bad news because it was never easy to give it. Never easy to stand in the storm of grief and simply be a bystander while their world ends in a matter of words. 

What did it matter who went with him? Who offered? At the end of the day, a family was forever going to be encapsulated by a loss too many people unfortunately knew. 

Vaguely, you caught the end of their argument. Robby wanted to perform an apnea test and a cerebral perfusion study. Dr. Collins didn’t agree. It offered the family false hope but Robby was right - maybe it did offer a false sense of hope, but with each test completed and results read off it was a graceful way to ease a family into acceptance. It gave them the time to process and grieve and come to the very heavy realization their son wouldn’t be going home with them. 

“They need time to process before they can accept what’s happening.”

“You ever consider taking that advice? Physician, heal thyself.”

Dear floor, please fucking open up wide so you can just swan dive right on in. Thanks a bunch. 

Heather knew. She fucking knew about the wall of grief - of acceptance - Robby himself was unable to accept. The King of dishing out advice left and right but unyielding in taking it. Suddenly, all the cool reserve of not caring about them dating evaporated in a crushing wave of heartbreak you shouldn’t have felt in the first place. 

Did he tell her about you? Did he share with her about…about what happened? Was he able to open up to her in ways he stopped doing with you? Their relationship was gone, but the respect and care were still there. 

The irritation came off him in waves. You should’ve told her Robby’s least favorite thing is being told to take his own advice. Or to heal for that matter. Oh, and to also maybe seek therapy. All three of those would turn his mood sour and aggravate him to peak levels at hyper speed. 

He shoved his hands down into his hoodie. His head swiveling between Collins and probably anywhere else in the ED. 

“Don’t you have patients?” 

There it was. The dismissal. The, in not so many words, “I’m done talking to you about this and everything else,” so he could make a quick exit. The magician's last trick before his temper was lost. 

Don’t look up. Do not look up. Don’t fucking do it. 

You didn’t need to look up. There wasn’t any reason to do so. You weren’t on their radar the last half of their conversation. You were just a bystander to a miniature car crash. The issue with crashes? Everyone who drove by couldn’t stop themselves from looking. 

The itch between your shoulder blades was your first warning sign. The weight of his gaze was bearing down on you. You didn’t have to react to it but it was a reflex to look up for him. To search for him in every crowded room and find yourself wishing he was there when he wasn’t. 

Your eyes found he was still looking at you. An in-house debate flashed across his features. If it was whether or not to come to you, you hope he chose not to. You just need a few moments of space. It was too much. You’d run from him and now he was just here all the time and -

“Why are you looking at puppies? You getting a dog?”

“What?”

For the first time since you’d opened the computer, you realized whoever was on it last left it open to an ad for a puppy. 

“Oh, no. This wasn’t me. Hey, earlier did someone shout a Code Blue?” 

You could also perform your own magical change of subjects. Robby took a moment to answer before giving a curt nod. 

“Whittaker’s patient that’d been placed in the hall. If you heard it, why didn’t you go assist? All hands on deck for a code, you know that.”

God, was he chastising you right now? A flood of irritation rippled over your skin. You wanted to snap at him. You weren’t a med student. But he was frustratingly right - you’d heard it and instead of running you’d kept yourself here. 

And Whitaker. It was his first patient of the day. He’d been so excited that he’d done good. He’d gotten praise from Dr. Robby about his work up and Whitaker wouldn’t shut up about it. It meant something to him. 

“I’ll go see if they need someone to switch.”

You went to get up but Robby was too close. If you got up from the chair you would bump straight into his chest. 

“You okay?”

The sudden care behind the question jarred you. How did he expect you to answer? There was no way you could be honest with him - not at that second. He was supposed to go break the worst news a parent could ever receive and he was worried about you. He should be worried for himself. You could warn him about Gloria but what good would it do if he thought you might possibly be in on it with her? Your sudden reappearance, while inconvenient, hadn’t raised suspicion like an ulterior motive waited in the wings just yet. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Never better.”

His smile held every worn line of fatigue that signaled his lack of sleep. His attempt at strength in a moment he refused to seek outside help. You found the same words Dr. Collins asked moments before crawling their way up your throat before you swallowed them back down. He wouldn’t change his mind and agree just because it was you. 

You wanted to be there because whether he voiced it or not, this kid whose family was seconds away from being told was gone wasn’t that much older than Jake. A single accident of taking non-prescribed Xanax ended his life. Jake was a good kid. You wanted to reach out and take his hand and tell him Jake would never - Jake was different. 

Jake was still a kid. 

Robby didn’t wait for you to reply before he headed towards the room. You kept telling yourself to get up and move. Go find Whitaker and the team performing cpr on his patient and do your part. Between everything that’s happened this morning: being forced down with Robby, seeing Robby, Dr. Mohan requesting to speak with you, Gloria’s ultimatum and now the news this young kid didn’t make it you were officially mentally exhausted. 

You needed to move but by the time your legs finally lifted out of the seat, Robby told them. The mother’s wail of agony resounded through the room and rose in octaves. The soul-wrenching loss of her child, her baby, turned the Pitt into a mausoleum of mourning. Her cries followed you down the hallway until you reached the curtain where Whitaker and others were on their third round of Epi, and you could see the continued despair evident in the room. 

It was barely 9 AM and you already wanted to fucking go home. 

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @travelingmypassion @jupiter-sky @catsgoogander @rosiepoise88 @It-jakeseresin @blackpopcorn @celmentine111002 @dcgoddess

[psychoticallycelestial]

GO ALL IN OR DON'T

You should've realized this a long time ago that you need to take action- remove bad thoughts, change your frequency to a state where you are fulfilled or should've done that particular meditation.

I mean you can sit on Tumblr all day and ask bloggers those repetitive questions that they have answered a 1000 times before. I know you are curious, but about what? About your natural state of being? or about the law of assuming??

You have do to whatever within your reach to change the self-pitying mindset, to change your state of being ungrateful and crying in your room all day.

It's okay to cry but for how long?? crying and mentally cursing yourself for not manifesting stuff before is not okay.

The first thing is, you get all this loa etc off your mind. Let your mind take some rest. In the meantime, do something relaxing, if you cant because of your 3D circumstances, sleep for sometime. LET YOURSELF RELAX.

You have to trust yourself

You can't be like *Oh it's all the same advice* even though it is. You didn't apply or put enough work to see if the same outdated advice worked or not.

You have gotten so comfortable in your own bubble that you refuse to focus. You get cheap dopamine which directly or indirectly hinders your attention and meditative states.

You keep on reading articles on Tumblr about whatever is it that you want to achieve but you dont care enough to actually be the change that you want in your life, in your 3D and in your 4D.

If you did care, you wouldn't be on Tumblr right now, you wouldn't be overcomplicating simple stuff.

Would you??

Pretty sure that some of y'all have experienced that feeling where you regret wasting your 3D time on articles about loa when you could actually have achieved that thing by application of loa.

This thing, loa, or even you yourself are life changing.

All you have to do is take your power back.

Don't act like it, be it.

Whatever it takes for you to get off tumblr (if you feel like you're wasting too much time here and overconsuming) and manifest your dream life from scratch, go all in.

Do it.

Don't seek proof from other people, apply loa and get proof of your own.

Just know that one simple belief change could either make or break your 3D.

It's all on you, meaning that you choose to be what you are, what you do and what is your belief system from now on.

People who slept with nothing woke up with everything, so why can't you??

Stop making yourself the problem love.

♥️.

[breelandwalker]

Oh no. What's wrong with Silver Ravenwolf? I feel like I see them recommended everywhere...

Yeeeeaaaah, it's an ongoing problem. Her books were wildly popular for over a decade and they're were widely marketed as THE Book To Have for beginner witches by Llewellyn, which was the heaviest of the heavy hitters in occult literature at the time.

The problem with Silver Ravenwolf is largely that she is wildly out of touch in a very New Age White Woman kind of way. Her books tout loads of misinformation, appropriation, and historical revisionism that are simply not acceptable (i.e. claiming victims of witch trials were actual pagan witches, citing a fictional ancient matriarchal goddess religion that never existed was the basis for Wicca, leaning into the hereditary superpowers / indigo child / starseed narrative, etc). Besides which, the theories she posits contradict each other from page to page and chapter to chapter, claims a Gardnerian lineage which can’t possibly exist, and trumpets Buckland’s personal theories on the Burning Times and interpretation of the Threefold Law as if they were fact.

And thanks to her runaway popularity, those of us who instruct and answer questions from newer witches have to UNTEACH all of this nonsense.

If it were simply a matter of being a product of her time, I could forgive some of the nonsense. But she’s still selling mammy dolls on her website, though she labels them as “primitive” and equates them to “positive voodoo dolls.” Yes, she's been confronted about this, and yes she doubled down. I don’t think I need to explain how gross and racist this is on SEVERAL levels. She's been given opportunities to show growth and self-work with regards to her work and simply refuses to believe that she was ever wrong about anything.

So, her books aren't entirely worthless by any means, but they require a LOT of critical reading and a strong understanding of actual history and science. Furthermore, she leans rather hard into a borderline cult mentality that boils down to, "Nobody understands you, but because you're drawn to witchcraft, you're SPECIAL, probably because of some ancient hereditary superpower, so don't worry - Mama Silver understands you. Also, there's no need to read further into anything, just take my word for it."

I would not recommend them for beginners, which is a problem because that's exactly the demographic her work is marketed toward. (Personally, I would not recommend them for anybody, but that's just my opinion.) They require so much effort to fact-check and unpack that it's almost not even worth the time and energy for whatever ideas and information you might actually find useful.

For more details, I suggest the following articles:

Continuing Anger Over Silver Ravenwolf

The Problem With Silver Ravenwolf

Trae Dorn (@traegorn) of BS-Free Witchcraft expands on the topic in this video. They've been wrestling with this issue for YEARS within the Wiccan and wider witchcraft communities and I'm sure they could cite examples I've missed.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to Read a Scientific Article

THE THREE-PASS APPROACH

The key idea is that you should read the paper in up to 3 passes, instead of starting at the beginning and plowing your way to the end.

Each pass accomplishes specific goals and builds upon the previous pass:

The first pass gives you a general idea about the paper.

The second pass lets you grasp the paper’s content, but not its details.

The third pass helps you understand the paper in depth.

At the end of the first pass, you should be able to answer the 5 Cs:

Category: What type of paper is this? A measurement paper? An analysis of an existing system? A description of a research prototype?

Context: Which other papers is it related to? Which theoretical bases were used to analyze the problem?

Correctness: Do the assumptions appear to be valid?

Contributions: What are the paper’s main contributions?

Clarity: Is the paper well written?

Purpose of the Sections of Empirical Articles

Section — Use it for

Abstract — This is a great section to read to find out if the article will be relevant to your own research.

Introduction — This section gives you an overview of work that has been done on topics relating to the hypothesis of the article, and will often lead you to other relevant work that has been done in your area of interest.

Method — This section will help you understand the design of the experiment. This is particularly useful if you'd like to replicate the study.

Results — The results will tell you what the author/s found in the course of their experiment.

Discussion — The discussion section is typically easier to read than the method and results section, and it will help the reader understand the implications of the results of the experiment.

References — This is a great place to look to find articles that are related to the one you are reading. If you're looking to build your own literature review, the references are a great place to start.

The Anatomy of a Scientific Paper

Some initial guidelines for how to read a paper:

Read critically: Reading a research paper must be a critical process. You should not assume that the authors are always correct. Instead, be suspicious. Critical reading involves asking appropriate questions.

Read creatively: Reading a paper critically is easy, in that it is always easier to tear something down than to build it up. Reading creatively involves harder, more positive thinking.

Make notes as you read the paper. Use whatever style you prefer. If you have questions or criticisms, write them down so you do not forget them. Underline key points the authors make. Mark the data that is most important or that appears questionable. Such efforts help the first time you read a paper and pay big dividends when you have to re-read a paper after several months.

After the first read-through, try to summarize the paper in one or two sentence.

If possible, compare the paper to other works.

Write a review that includes:

a one or two sentence summary of the paper.

a deeper, more extensive outline of the main points of the paper, including for example assumptions made, arguments presented, data analyzed, and conclusions drawn.

any limitations or extensions you see for the ideas in the paper.

your opinion of the paper; primarily, the quality of the ideas and its potential impact.

The guide below details how to read a scientific article step-by-step.

First, you should not approach a scientific article like a textbook— reading from beginning to end of the chapter or book without pause for reflection or criticism. Additionally, it is highly recommended that you highlight and take notes as you move through the article.

Skim the article. This should only take you a few minutes. You are not trying to comprehend the entire article at this point, but just get a basic overview. You don’t have to read in order; the discussion/conclusions will help you to determine if the article is relevant to your research. You might then continue on to the Introduction. Pay attention to the structure of the article, headings, and figures.

Grasp the vocabulary. Begin to go through the article and highlight words and phrases you do not understand. Some words or phrases you may be able to get an understanding from the context in which it is used, but for others you may need the assistance of a medical or scientific dictionary. Subject-specific dictionaries available through our Library databases and online are listed below.

Identify the structure of the article and work on your comprehension. Most journals use an IMRD structure: An abstract followed by Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion. These sections typically contain conventional features, which you will start to recognize. If you learn to look for these features you will begin to read and comprehend the article more quickly.

 Read the bibliography/references section. Reading the references or works cited may lead you to other useful resources. You might also get a better understanding of the basic terminology, main concepts, major researchers, and basic terminology in the area you are researching.

Reflect on what you have read and draw your own conclusions. As you are reading jot down any questions that come to mind. They may be answered later on in the article or you may have stumbled upon something that the authors did not consider. Here are some examples of questions you may ask yourself as you read:

 Have I taken time to understand all the terminology?

Am I spending too much time on the less important parts of this article?

Do I have any reason to question the credibility of this research?

What specific problem does the research address and why is it important?

How do these results relate to my research interests or to other works which I have read?

6. Read the article a second time in chronological order. Reading the article a second time will reinforce your overall understanding. You may even start to make connections to other articles that you have read on this topic.

Identify Key Information

Whether you are looking for information that supports the hypothesis in your own paper or carefully analyzing the article and critiquing the research methods or findings, there are important questions that you should answer as you read the article.

What is the main hypothesis?

Why is this research important?

Did the researchers use appropriate measurements and procedures?

What were the variables in the study?

What was the key finding of the research?

Do the findings justify the author’s conclusions?

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[marydoyouwrite]

Back to Me

PAIRING: idol!Jaehyun x militarygeneral!Reader

GENRE: smut, angst

SUMMARY: The youngest and first female military chief is embroiled in a dating scandal. While she isn't willing to put his rumored beau at risk, the man is a willing participant, only if she would allow him.

WARNINGS: overstimulation, Jaehyun has a bulge kink, pussy eating, it gets messy at the end there's mentions of blood and violence, my military terms for sure aren't accurate so please read with a grain of salt! <3

enjoy!

8.5k word count

++++

Breaking News: South Korea's Youngest and First Female Military Intelligence Chief Finally Has a Beau?

Seoul, South Korea — In a surprising turn of events, South Korea's youngest and first female Military Intelligence Chief, General YN Park, who has captivated the nation with her unprecedented rise in the military, is reportedly no longer flying solo.

General YN, just 36 years old, broke multiple glass ceilings when she assumed the top position in South Korea's National Intelligence Service (NIS) last year. Known for her unparalleled strategic mind, her dedication to national security, and her stoic public persona, the news of her newfound relationship has caught everyone off guard.

Despite the intense scrutiny and pressure associated with her high-profile role, the General has managed to keep her private life out of the public eye until now. Rumors about a mystery beau have been swirling for weeks due to surfaced photos with a man whom other sources say to closely resemble NCT 127’s member, Jung Jaehyun.

Although no one has confirmed the identity of the man in the photos, some have pointed out that he appears to be familiar with the General’s close-knit circle.

"We’ve never seen General Park in this kind of casual setting before," said Han Min-seok, a military analyst and former intelligence officer. "It’s a rare glimpse into her personal life, and it’s sparked a lot of curiosity. Given her high profile and position, the idea of her having someone close to her is, frankly, surprising, and people are eager to know more."

Despite the media frenzy, neither the General’s office nor the Ministry of National Defense have issued any statements about the photos. Sources close to the General have been tight-lipped, and her team has refused to answer questions about her personal life. However, some insiders suggest that Park has always maintained a strict separation between her career and her personal matters.

For now, speculation remains rampant. Public reactions have been mixed, with some expressing support for the General’s right to a private life, while others are questioning the potential impact of her relationship—whatever its nature—on her leadership role. General Park’s legacy as a trailblazer for women in the military, particularly in her groundbreaking position, may be complicated if her personal life begins to overshadow her professional achievements.

One thing is certain: South Koreans are watching closely, and the mystery of General Park’s private life seems poised to captivate the nation in the days to come.

As the story develops, stay tuned for more updates on this intriguing, and increasingly personal, story.

—-----

After reading the news article, you gave the tablet back to your chief of staff. "I don't know what you want me to do about this, Yujin, but I have an audience with the President tonight."

Yujin looks at you incredulously. "Exactly my point. You don’t think he’s going to grill you on this?"

You sift through the mountain of files on your desk and let your eyes linger on the names of the people that kidnapped eight south-koreans, including the of the National Assembly’s current speaker, all in exchange for ransom and request for extradition of their Russian mafia leader. The case has been a real headache and you want nothing but to make sure you get everyone out of this chaos unscathed. 

"No, because we have a high profile kidnapping case to solve."

“You say that but the president has never missed an opportunity to inquire about your romantic stints! So can you please let me do my job and tell me if any of these are true?”

It was your turn to look at Yujin incredulously. "There's nothing. It was just dinner as friends."

"Are you sure? Because we're releasing a denial on this and you can't make me  retract this next month even if I have to resign!"

And just when you're about to answer Yujin, your cell phone goes off and her eyes go big at the name it displays. She snatches your phone before you can and answers it and puts it on speaker mode. "Speak." Yujin mouths.

You roll your eyes. "Jaehyun, Yujin is listening in."

"What the fuck, YN."

"Yujin, language." Jaehyun laughs from the other line while Yujin is seething.

You allow yourself to sit down. You also massage your temples because of how Yujin is acting at the whole thing. She’s always been efficient at being Chief of Staff ever since you took the position as Chief of Military Intelligence three years ago and while you love her persistence and attention to detail, you don’t like it when you’re the subject of it. 

"So I'm guessing you've read the articles."

"Jaehyun, are you two dating?!"

"Jae, don't mind Yujin, I already told her we aren’t and she's going to put that out."

"Wait! I wanted to talk to you about that."

"About what?"

"I was just thinking... I wouldn't mind if you said we were dating."

"What the fuck?"

"YN language."

You scoffed and blurted, "Jaehyun, we aren't dating."

You stand up from your seat and approach the window in your office overlooking the city. Your mind is racing at Jaehyun’s words mulling over what to do about it. You want to swat his soul out of his body for the irresponsibility of just saying whatever he wants. But then it’s Jaehyun, he really does say whatever he wants. 

—Beginning—

You recall how you two met. 6 years ago in New York, coming from a scalding session with your then superior, you went straight to a bar of the hotel where you were staying. You were there as part of an activity under South Korea and US’ visiting forces agreement and you had a blunder earlier that day for being provoked by a US Military Officer. You clearly let his provocation get to you so you got a good scolding from your superior. “You are above and better than that,” was what he repeatedly said. And although you’re already used to the heat of military work, you still need to blow off steam for your mental health. 

“One old fashioned.” 

You put your head down as you wait for the bartender to finish preparing your drink. You feel the shift on the seat next to you but you don’t put your head up. You’re too focused on blowing off steam. 

“Can I get a Whiskey?” At the same time the person next to you orders, your drink is ready. You lift your head to take a sip of your drink and you just stare off into space. No thoughts, just head empty.

“Ma’am?” You turn at the sound of your native language and see two pairs of innocent looking eyes stare at you expectantly. You knit your eyebrows and surveyed his whole face and decided he looked vaguely familiar to you. You can’t decide whether his face is familiar because he looks like a model for magazines or because you’ve already seen him somewhere. 

“I’m sorry, I’m Jaehyun and I’ve already done my military service in Korea. I sometimes see you at events and during our training. You’re 1st Lt. YN, ma’am.” That’s why he looks familiar. You probably crossed paths more than once. 

“It’s Captain now, but yeah, YN. Sorry, Jaehyun, is it?”

“Yes, Captain. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I didn’t expect to cross paths with you here. Are you vacationing?” 

You’re wary about sharing too much information but for some reason, the way he talks, his body language, and the slight redness in his ears, puts you at ease. So you engage, a little bit.

“I’m here for work. You?”

“I’m also here for work. Would you mind if I joined you a bit longer?”

You stared at Jaehyun and noted that your instincts and senses aren’t on heightened alert like how it usually does in the presence of a stranger. You don’t sense a hint of malice in his presence and somehow he radiates a certain kind of warmth. How he does it, you don’t know but you decide to just humor yourself.

That night, when you decided it was time to rest, you realized you had a great time. Jaehyun was a conversationalist with a tinge of naughtiness just bubbling beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. You suppose he can’t show his full self yet. Not in front of his once superior, you get that. But even with his restraint, he managed to get more than a laugh or two out of you. Once or twice, his fingers brushed with yours. And more than thrice, you saw his line of sight align with your lips. Nothing escaped you.

If anything impressed you out of the whole exchange, it was him asking for your number. He rubbed the back of his neck while asking if he could get in touch with you sometimes when you’re back in South Korea. “Although of course, I don’t expect you to. You’re the busiest!” He added.

You wanted to give him credit. You’ve talked with many men that had their intentions laid down in the open and while you’re flattered by their respect and interest, no one ever dared to ask for your number when it was time to say goodbye. But Jaehyun did. So you don’t make it hard for him and gave him your number.

You bid your farewells but you remained in touch. You eventually discovered what he does for work and was even more impressed at his talent and charisma. Needless to say, both of you remained friends with all the benefits of it, including great sex.

And god, only thinking about sex with Jaehyun is enough to make your toes curl. He was a great person and an even better fuck. No one can make you cry and beg on your knees apart from him. So you never met anyone anymore. Only he can satisfy the itch you get every once in a while. Only he can make you submit wholeheartedly.

But despite all the passionate nights, never did it progress to something more. Especially not when you were appointed Chief of Military Intelligence three years after you met. There was a quiet acknowledgment that both your professions came first above all else. 

And for your part, you could never put his life at risk. You know you were pushing it when you selfishly chose to keep him in your life. To call him when you need a little reprieve from everything. Just the possibility of your enemies targeting Jaehyun for his connection with you is enough to send your stomach spinning. And your enemies are not few. With the bold decisions that had to be made for the safety of the nation, angry people are at your left and right. You vowed to never put the people you care for in a position of danger. Especially not Jaehyun.

You snapped back into reality and addressed Yujin. “Anyway, deny it. We’re not dating. I’m no longer discussing this.”

—One—

“Jaehyun and I are dating,” the way the words rolled off your tongue was more of a question rather than a statement. You chastised yourself because did you really have to end up using this card just to get what you want? In your defense, you’re backed against the wall with no other remedy but to appeal to emotion. 

“Come again? Are you two really?” The President is eyeing you very intensely trying to figure out if you were just bluffing. You did a quick look at Yujin and saw her mouth hanging open. “YN, if you’re making this up, you know I’ll see through your bluff,” he adds.

You stand up from where you’re seated, take the Whiskey you’ve been offered a while ago, and maintain eye contact with the President. If there’s anyone who’s best at bluffing, it better be you.

“Mr. President, I tell you I want to do this mission myself but you tell me you worry I won’t be back alive. I tell you I will and that not a single South Korean will die on that night, you tell me you needed assurance. And since my love for this country doesn’t seem enough to convince you that I have the willpower of a bull to pull this off, I’m telling you that I will be back because someone I love is waiting for me. And I can’t bear to disappoint that man.”

The President stares at you, studies you, and you know your sincerity came across. Of course you and Jaehyun aren’t dating. But there wasn’t a single lie on the things you said just now. It’s not normal for the Chief to be the person on the ground doing the mission. But this time, you weighed the risks and you can’t bear having someone else do it. The potential of dying leans more towards dying versus not dying. And while you trust your subordinates, this is something you have to take.

So you weren’t lying. It’s true that you can’t bear the thought of sadness and grief taking over Jaehyun’s handsome face. Not when you’ve never even talked about feelings. You’re going to make it back alive from that mission no matter what it takes.

“Okay,” the President sighs in defeat. “But I need a run down of the plan. I need my general back and make it so until your last limb.”

You gave the President a curt nod, “On my last fucking limb,” You gave a salute to the President and walked out of the conference room. Behind you is a quiet Yujin. 

“You’re mad,”

“Of course not. Why would I be mad? We just released an article denying everything about YOU and JAEHYUN dating only for you to confirm it before the President. That’s not something to be mad about.”

You stop in your tracks and turn to face your seething Chief of Staff, “This mission is the most important to me right now.” Yujin seems to soften at the sound of your gentle tone. “And so is going back alive because Jaehyun and I aren’t dating, yet. And I want us to.”

Yujin’s eyes go big at your revelation and she understandfully nods. “Now, let’s plan this mission good,” As you walk towards your office, you send a text message to the person who has no idea what he was pulled into.

Are you free tonight? 

—Two—

1 message 

Ma’am General: Are you free tonight?

Jaehyun smiles at your message knowing that the only reason you’re sending this is because you want to meet up. And he very much wants to, too. Before he gets to respond, he’s interrupted by Johnny, “You guys down for some drinks after practice?”

“Uh, I’ll pass.” And Johnny chuckles at his quick response, knowing full well why he’s not coming. He sees Doyoung whip his head in his direction. “Jaehyun, are you meeting YN again?! I swear to god, you just had articles about you today!”

He winces at Doyoung’s scolding. It’s mild to say that the management was pissed. They were blindsided, how could they not be pissed. They learned about his “closeness” with you through the news and if that wasn’t enough, an official statement was released confirming that the two of you are in fact not dating. Talk about a whiplash. So he’s not surprised why Doyoung is feeling so sensitive.

“Ya, hyung, give Jaehyun hyung a break,” Haechan butts in. “We’re kinda too grown for this now. I think Jaehyun hyung’s age is the right age to get into dating scandals.” The youngest one winks at his direction and Jaehyun laughs at his cheekiness. 

“Thanks Haechan, but I don’t mind. I did kinda blindside everyone. But Doyoung hyung, that should be General YN for all of us.”

Doyoung just sighs and continues with practicing choreo for the group’s upcoming tour. He’ll console the older member later when he’s less angry. He knows Doyoung is coming from good intentions but Jaehyun won’t dare comfort him while he’s in his feels.

“You know he’s just worried right?” Taeyong comes from behind him while fixing his shoes.

“Of course, dating scandals are never good for idols and their groups,” he replied knowingly.

“No, that’s not why,” Jaehyun turns to Taeyong, a bit confused. “The General? Never doubted you could pull a woman like that but shit, that’s some dangerous waters. You’re aware how many enemies she has, right? Especially with some controversial decisions she made, I bet there’s a long list of people targeting her.”

Jaehyun knew. Of course he did. But someone verbalizing it like this just sends a shiver down his spine. His stomach churns at the thought of powerful people  putting a big red target on your head. And what’s worse is he’s not in the most ideal position to ensure you’re always safe.

“So Doyoung is just worried because people close to the General also become targets by default and not because he thinks this is affecting the group. Besides, Haechan’s right, it's about time we got involved in dating scandals,” you snicker at the last bit.

Taeyong taps your shoulder and you’re left to your thoughts. But as how he has approached it ever since, he doesn’t dwell on it too much because nothing good is going to come out of that trail of thought.

Technically speaking, you and him aren’t dating. But Jaehyun knows its just a matter of communication. He’s confident where he stands in your life if your moans and late night calls are any indicator of it. But apart from those things, your subtle way of caring always touched his heart. And if that’s all you can give him, he’ll take it. 

When am I never? Should I pick you up?

Jaehyun sends you a reply and walks to where his stuff is to start fixing. He finishes packing and bids the team farewell, “See you tomorrow!”

He’s going to take a good shower before meeting you. By how this day went, he’s guessing you’re going to want to melt into a hug immediately and just the thought of it puts a smile on his face. No one knows that side of you. Not even Yujin who has been with you for the longest time since your early years in the military. Only he gets to witness the soft, whiny, and sweet side of the nation’s steelhearted General. 

Ma’am General calling…

“Ma’am? Something wrong?” Ma’am has become a pet name between the two of you. He loves how the endearment annoys you just a little bit. So when you respond without any snark, Jaehyun’s a bit worried.

“Nothing wrong. Just… I kinda can’t go anywhere without my security right now. Is it going to be a bother if you went to my place instead? I have something to tell you.”

“YN, of course not. I’m just going to take a shower and head straight to where you are. Also, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Just a lot of things. But I’ll tell you everything later,” you blow out a long frustrated sigh on the other line. “I’m gonna need a year’s worth of sleep after everything.”

“You need coffee, got it.”

“Shit, you’re good. That got me horny,” he chuckles and shakes his head. This is another side of you that has made him fall so hard. “See you in a bit, YN. I’ll be quick.”

—Three—

The door to your house opens and it reveals a very fresh, very newly showered, Jung Jaehyun. In his left hand is the coffee he promised you. While you want to jump him, you restrain yourself because you’re about to deliver him some news that will probably wipe the dimply-grin he has off his face.

“I want to hug you but I’m gross and you’re newly showered,” you’re slumped on your sofa and you look at the uniform you’re still wearing. Your boots are still on and your hair is for sure a mess after wearing your beret the whole day. You don’t even want to try and smell yourself. 

“You in your uniform never fail to give me a hard on, YN,” you scoff at the man who went straight to where your boots are to remove them from your feet. “You and your kinks,” you retorted.

You stare at Jaehyun who is currently untying the lace of your boots. He removes the left boot and the right and as he successfully removes both your socks, he massages your feet a little bit. Just enough to relax your soles. This man, who also must have had an equally exhausting day, went straight to give you a foot massage. 

“How does a hot bath sound?”

“To be honest, heavenly,” Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let me prepare one for you.” You mumble a small and shy okay before Jaehyun stands and goes upstairs, probably to your room to prepare the warm bath. 

You fidget your toes as you wait for him to come back. These things that Jaehyun is doing for you are more than just fruits of friendship, you’re sure of it. But there’s an ongoing war in your mind that holds you back. You worry he’ll resent you one day for failing to protect him both from physical and emotional harm and you can’t live with the possibility. But you want him so much since the first night you met that it’s killing you inside.

“YN, think we can get you undressed while the tub is being filled with water.”

“Yeap, okay,” you start to get up but Jaehyun stops you. So you just look at him confused. “Let me take you up.” You don’t protest his proposition as he carries you like a child in his arms. He’s carried you way too many times already to be flustered at the gesture. Hell, his tongue even tasted every inch of your skin. But even as you convince yourself that it’s not a big deal, your face betrays you. And when Jaehyun looks at you, he notices the warmth spreading on your cheeks and all of a sudden, he feels warm, too. 

Jaehyun sets you down on the bed and goes to the bath probably to check if the tub’s been filled and the water is just right. Just a few moments and Jaehyun is back with you. He unbuttons your top and hangs it up in your dresser. He unzips and peels off your pants next until you’re only in your underwear. He gives you a nice kiss on the cheeks as he removes your bra. His hands trail to your hips and the lace of your panty is just between his fingers for a second too long before he pulls it down. And now you’re fully naked in front of him. You see the up and down of his throat but in the years you’ve known him, you know he absolutely won’t make a move unless he’s done making you comfortable.

Jaehyun carries you to the bath and settles you gently into the tub. You sigh at the contact of warm water, it’s like all the worries and stress  dissipate with the steam. Jaehyun puts some shampoo into your scalp scrubber and he starts massaging your head with it.

“That feels so good,” you groan with so much relief.

“So good you can relax?”

“Absolutely.”

There was comfortable silence afterwards. You just stare at Jaehyun and his busy hands cleaning your hair and then lathering soap on your body giving your tense muscles some good massage here and there. 

“I have to talk to you about something.”

“Of course, I’m listening,” he responds as he scoops some water in his hands to wash away some soap that got too close to your eye.

“I told the President we’re dating,” Jaehyun looks at you with parted lips.

“But you said -”

“I know, but,” you sigh before continuing, “something came up.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Jaehyun asks carefully, probably being cautious about not pressuring you into divulging details you can’t share, another thing that you appreciate about him the most. 

“There’s this mission we’re preparing for. And based on my assessment, I think it’s best for me to be personally involved in it,” Jaehyun slowly nods in understanding.

“But how does that relate to you telling the President that we’re dating? But just so you know, totally not mad about it. I like it, actually.” You roll your eyes at the cheeky smile that Jaehyun whipped up. And you flicked some water towards his face when he kept raising his eyebrows.

“The President thinks it's a dangerous mission and that he could lose his Chief from it. HE doesn’t believe my love for this country is a strong enough force to push my will to live and make sure I return safe, so,” you pause and look Jaehyun in the eye, “I told him, I’m dating you. That I will be back no matter what because someone I love is waiting for me and I can’t bear to disappoint that man.”

Somewhere along your sentence, you whispered a word or two, probably the part where you professed your love for him was a decibel more fit for your K9s at work.

Jaehyun cupped your right cheek, his thumb gently grazing over your cheekbones. With this, you’re forced to look at his eyes which held emotions you couldn't fully understand. There’s warmth, and love, and then worry, and overall softness to his gaze that makes you weak.

And then, his lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, as if the world itself might break if he moved too quickly. It was so gentle, almost hesitant, but it was everything. Very different from all the kisses you’ve shared so far. All the longing, all the moments they had both kept hidden, poured into that single, quiet kiss.

The kiss deepened, his tongue begging access to your mouth, and all of a sudden nothing mattered. Jaehyun’s lips were insistent now, as though he was trying to pour all the things he couldn’t say into this one perfect, imperfect moment. When he breaks the kiss, you’re panting.

“Wow,” you breathed out between Jaehyun’s quick pecks after that breath-taking kiss.

“So what I heard is that you’re about to go into a very dangerous mission that could potentially kill you,”

“What the hell -”

“And that you will be back because you love me.”

“Uh, yes. That’s what I said.”

“Fuck.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. It’s just that my mind is on a marathon right now. I love you, too, you must have known that for -”

“You love me, too?”

“Come on, YN, you can’t honestly believe I’d stick this long if I didn’t love you. And really, bubble baths on a weekday at midnight? Love is the only explanation for my willingness. You’re telling me you really didn’t know?” Jaehyun exclaims with a hint of offense. But the truth is you’ve known about it for a very long time. In the quietness and the loudness of your friendship, you’ve known about his love for you ever since it started to bloom.

“No, I know…” you mumble.

“Good girl. So as I was saying,” he blows out a long sigh, “I love you so much, but I’m so fucking worried thinking about what you just shared.”

“Why? Don’t trust me?”

“Of course I do, you can deadass exterminate a whole mafia by yourself.”

“Good, so don’t worry because like I said, I don’t want to disappoint this man who’s waiting for me.” you said to pacify him before reaching out to him for another quick kiss.

“Mm, YN, you know how I think you’re the strongest person in the whole world. But this worry I have is something I can’t help. So while trusting you, I will also worry about you,” 

“Yeah, okay,” you answer quietly. You can’t help but agree because you feel the same. While you trust yourself to protect him from any and all pain at all costs, you also can’t help but worry you’re going to be the greatest heartache he’s ever going to have, whether it's your fault or fate’s.

“When is this mission happening?”

“In three days’ time.”

“Shit.” You look at his face and see that there’s a million thoughts racing inside his head. You caress his face hoping it would calm and comfort him little.

“Not too much time, huh?”

“Yeah,”

“We should start fucking to reach quota, then,” you laughed too hard at Jaehyun’s attempt to make things lighter. 

“I agree, you should get started.”

Without a beat, Jaehyun is carrying you out of the tub and onto the sink that had a towel laid down. 

“Gotta dry your hair first,” He takes another towel and starts patting your hair dry. “But not too dry, if you don’t mind because your confession got me hard so fast.” You giggle at his silliness and just let him do whatever.

When your hair is no longer dripping wet, he sets the towel aside and looks at you from head to toe. He takes a strand of your hair away from your face before settling his fingers on the side of your neck. 

“So pretty like this,” he peppers your neck with kisses, his lips travelling down south to your chest. His hands settle on your hips, “So pretty and all mine.” 

His kisses trail down to your breasts, then to your stomach, then just above your slit. He gives you one last hungry look before he gives your pussy one long lick and wraps his mouth around your clit. The warmth of his mouth makes you throw your head back. His right hand gives your hip a squeeze before he brings his fingers to your core, inserting two digits at once, giving you a delicious stretch. All the while his left hand is stationary on your hip, making sure you remain where he wants you to be. 

He curls his fingers to press on the sensitive spot inside you, “Fuck,” is your only response. Jaehyun is a starved man by the way he sucks at your bud. He’s desperate to taste and drink you up. By the way his mouth and fingers are going, you know he doesn’t have to wait any longer. 

Jaehyun moves his left hand to the inside of your thighs to spread your legs even wider, to give him more access. Jaehyun eats you out with more vigor and more speed in his fingers. You let your hands grip on his hair, your eyes rolling at the sinful feeling of his tongue and lips.

“J-Jae, please!” you scream as you feel your stomach tightening. Jaehyun knows you’re close, so he guides you into that orgasm by stuffing another finger inside of you. This does the trick. You moan his name as you come undone. He removes his fingers from your core only to use both his hands to spread you open so he can lick you dry and clean. You get sensitive from his continuous lapping so you try to push his head away from your core.

But Jaehyun is feral, “Not yet baby girl. Gonna make sure I get every last drop of you.”

And you know better than to argue. So you just let your hand rest on his shoulder as you allow him to drink you to his heart’s content. Once he’s done, you’ve become a panting, shaking mess. No strength in your legs and no single thought in your head.

“Thank you, baby. Shall we move to the bed?” you don’t answer and just wave your hands at him, signalling he can do whatever he wants. And Jaehyun is more than happy to oblige. He carries you and throws you on the bed with too much excitement.

“Jaehyun!”

“Sorry, baby, you got me all worked up.” Without another word, he dives to where you are. His mouth quickly found its way to your right nipple, his next target. His left hand massaging and toying with your other breast. Without stopping his ministrations, he uses his free hand to pull his shirt off his body. Only when he needed to pull it over his head did he let go of your nipple. As he does, he tosses his clothing to the side and removes his jeans revealing his familiar yet still always mouth-watering cock. Jaehyun is a sculpture from the gods. Not only is his face and physique perfect, but his cock is, too. He is both long and thick that you always feel the stretch for days after every heated session. 

The sight gets you excited that you get up on your knees.

“Baby girl wants to suck me? Pleasure me with that beautiful mouth of yours?” you nod as you move closer to him. You take his cock in your hands and play with the tip for a bit before taking him fully in your mouth. 

“Fucking hell,” Jaehyun groans, “Pretty general, taking me in so good.” This encourages you to take him deeper in your throat. The feeling makes Jaehyun knit his brows and grab your hair in his hands. He pulls your hair, sending a pleasurable pain to your scalp. He guides you to take him even deeper, making you gag in response. Some drool escapes from the side of your mouth and the intrusion in your throat makes your eyes tear up. 

Jaehyun wipes the drool on the side of  your lips, “Want to see you cry only for my cock.” Jaehyun takes control of the pace and fucks your mouth with so much passion. You put your hands on his thigh for support, but his length accomplishes the picture he wants to see. It’s always a welcome challenge blowing Jaehyun, but the deed always brings you to tears. And there’s something about your tears that riles Jaehyun up every time. 

Seeing you look up at him crying and obediently and willingly taking him in your mouth, sends Jaehyun over the edge. “Gonna take my load like a good girl?” You nod at him as he groans and takes a few more thrusts. You gently tap his thigh encouragingly to signal him to let go. Your encouragement seems to do the thing because one more thrust and his delicious cum fills the walls of your mouth, some coming out from both sides of your lips. But as you are a good girl, you swallow everything, and even lick his cock clean. If he wants to get every last drop of you, you feel the same, too. As you continue to lick him, Jaehyun lifts your chin with his finger. He dips down to kiss you, licking your lips in the process. “Don’t you think we’re done.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” you respond with a raspy voice and he smiles at you as he guides you back down the bed. His fingers ghost over your core. Sucking Jaehyun had you dripping wet. “Still wet and ready for me?”

“Always. Still hard and ready for me?”

“That goes without saying. Now spread those legs for me nicely, baby.”

You obey his command. Jaehyun situates himself between your legs and teases your entrance with the tip of his cock that is still very much hard and proud. It’s as if he didn’t cum just a few seconds ago. 

Jaehyun tries to be a patient man but the truth of the matter is that he can never be. Especially not when you look so beautiful with your hair spread out around you, your forehead glistening with some sweat, and your cheeks stained with fresh tears. So he stops holding back and bottoms out inside of you in one quick thrust. 

You shout his name at the sudden penetration. The stretch is an addicting kind of pain. 

“Sorry, baby, this pussy is driving me crazy. I’m gonna move now, yeah?” You nod at Jaehyun, eager to feel more of him. He thrusts out half way before ramming back inside of you. You feel his tip hit a spot inside of you that makes you arch your back. The friction of his length  against your walls as he continuously pounds into you is an exhilarating experience. 

Jaehyun brings his fingers to your core. Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinches your clit sending your mind into haywire. 

“W-Wait!” you try to plead your case. By the looks of it, Jaehyun isn’t cumming anytime soon yet. If he continues to play with you like this, he’ll draw out another orgasm from you and you don’t think you can hold out. But Jaehyun is relentless. He only raises an eyebrow at your failed attempt to beg.

“No waiting, baby. Be a good girl for me and take what I give you,” he warns in a low voice. Jaehyun takes one of your legs and puts it over his shoulder to reach a deeper spot inside of you. You whimper at the change of pace, your fingers scratching his back, your other hand gripping at his hair.

Jaehyun takes your hand that’s gripping his hair and puts it over the part of your stomach that bulges with his every thrust, “Look how good you’re taking me,” he praises. He presses your hand down on your bulging stomach, adding both pain and pleasure to your body.

You suck in some air. At this point you’re breathless. Nothing but sinful sounds come out of your mouth. Your moans become higher in pitch by the moment, calling out Jaehyun’s name as if it will pull him out of the trance he’s in. It doesn’t.

His fingers are back to work on your clit, abusing it, determined to make you climax one more time. And Jaehyun succeeds. A powerful wave hits you and you almost black out. You feel every part of you shake. There’s a ring in your ear brought by the ridiculous high. But as you predicted, Jaehyun isn’t done. He continues to savor the feeling of you convulsing around him.

“Jaehyun please, need you to cum,” you beg in between labored breaths. Jaehyun manhandles you to switch your positions. Now you’re on top of him but he’s the one moving your hips up and down his cock, using you as he pleases. The new position allows you to feel his fullness even more. 

“Wanna come with you on top, ma’am,” he declares. 

Jaehyun will be the death of you. He guides your hips up and down at a monstrous pace. For every movement, your clit brushes against his base and its maddening. He reaches out to grab your head for a kiss, “Gonna cum.”

“P-Please, fill me with your cum.”

And he did not have to be told again, with one more thrust, Jaehyun came undone inside of you. You feel the warmth of his seed spreading inside of you. You slump your head against his chest without moving your hips. You’re spent. 

Jaehyun caresses your hair and you feel him plant a kiss on top of your head.

“You’re a dream.”

You can’t find the energy to move so you just lay there motionless, Jaehyun’s cock still inside of you. Meanwhile, Jaehyun rubs your hips, giving it subtle massages, before slowly slipping out of you. He changes your position to let you lay down. He adjusts your pillows and when he’s certain you’re comfortable, he gets up to get a warm towelette. Gently, he wipes the inside of your thighs clean. 

All the while, your eyes are shut, too tired to open them up. But when you feel the bed shift beside you, you open your eyes to find a smiley Jaehyun staring at you.

“You have my heart, YN, so please come back to me.” 

You smiled at Jaehyun and reached out to cup his cheek, “I’ll be back.”

–Four–

The plan was to be a trojan horse. 

True to the validated tip your office has received through a trusted mole, the kidnappers plan to abduct additional personalities to elevate the power they hold in negotiations. The targets have been identified to be the Jung sisters, daughters of South Korea’s top real estate developer, and both college students at Yonsei University. 

The group behind the kidnappings planned to abduct the Jung sisters during their ride back home from school. And that’s where you and your partner, Lt. Gen. Jennie, came into play. Both of you took the place of the Jung sisters to infiltrate the devils’ quarters. 

Now you’re here, finally leading everyone out of the building they were trapped in for months. The execution of the rescue was almost perfect. Until it wasn’t. 

Once you were abducted, you created a map of the place in your mind. Even while being blindfolded, you focused on the bits of information you can gather without eyesight. Before your eyes were covered, you noted that each of the three kidnappers carried a pistol-type handgun. And as you entered an establishment, you counted your steps and remembered every turn you took. You amplified your senses and noted every change in smell, floor feel, and temperature. You’re at a disadvantage. Entering the criminals’ den without so much as a knife is a suicide mission, as Yujin said. But you swore on your neck nobody is going to die on your watch. Not even yourself.

Your mole said there were a total of 12 armed men in the establishment, each taking turns in guarding the main room and the exit and entrance points. The plan was to separate and then meet up.  Through this plan, you can confuse and eliminate more armed men before reaching the exit of the building. Jennie took 4 of the victims with her to take a different route going to the exit while you took the other 4. 

You finally reunited with Jennie and her group and confirmed that you’ve each wounded 5 people, leaving you with just 2 more active hurdles. 

“It’s going to be okay, we’re almost out of here,” you comfort the hysterical group. Everyone is afraid and desperate to go back to their families. 

But just when you’re almost out in the open, 4 armed men are closing in on you. Two were chasing you from behind, and two were coming from the front. You wanted to shout profanities because two additional unaccounted armed criminals are going to make it harder to complete the rescue of a group of scared individuals.  But you held yourself back realizing your panic will only make everyone else panic. 

You can’t afford to get closed in on. The odds of sustaining injuries and fatalities are going to shoot up, especially in the face of desperate malefactors.

“Jennie, run behind everyone and fire the flare signal once you’re all out!”

Jennie looks at you in horror as your instructions dawn on her. You’re basically asking her to leave you alone.

“Don’t fucking hesitate lieutenant! That’s an order!” 

“Y-Yes, ma’am! Everyone, follow me!”

Leaving you alone is the only choice. You’re going to hold the kidnappers off. As Jennie and the whole group continue to run, you stop on your tracks and face the angry men. You fire two shots, successfully wounding one of  them. You have to weaken them as much as you can. Even with years of experience fighting wars, your strength is no match against 4 towering men with guns in their hands. But your resolve is the best there is.

You disarm the first man that charges at you, twisting his arm behind his back, and hitting the part of his neck with the base of your gun. The force renders the man down and unconscious. The next person charges at you with a knife which you quickly take from him. You thrust the knife deep into his thigh and butt his head twice. Once with your own head and another with the gun in your hand. 

Someone grapples you from behind and you struggle out of his hold. You take the knife out from the former’s thigh and try to reach the next one using the blade, to no avail. The man creates sufficient space between the two of you as he takes out a dagger of his own. He charges at you but as you try to charge at him too, the other conscious kidnapper pulls your leg, rendering you flat on the ground. 

The other takes his chance and stabs your leg with the dagger. You scream in anguish as you kick the second man in the face with your better leg. You take a rock beside you and smash it to the side of his head. When you see him trying to reach out for a nearby gun, you smash his hand, too. 

With one last person conscious, you will yourself to stand up despite the burn on your leg. You drop your gun and pull the dagger from your leg. You decided the dagger is going to be the weapon that helps you end this madness. With obvious rage in his eyes, the man runs at you with closed fists. You examine him, he has no weapon but his hands.

Once he reaches you, he gains an advantage with his height. He grabs you by the hips and topples you to the ground. You groan in pain at the impact on the back of your head. He takes the same rock you held earlier and bashes it against your temple. He takes the dagger from your hand and aims it at your gut. The blade comes in contact with your skin until you feel the burn ripping through your flesh.

“Fuck!” 

You stop his hands but not fast enough to prevent a puncture. The blade continues to dig into you. You feel weak and your adrenaline is dissipating. Maybe it’s because of the comfort knowing that Jennie has brought the group to safety. She fired the flare sending the signal to the team on standby a few meters away  for rescue. Your mission is done and you’re sure you won’t immediately die from a slitted gut. You’ll bleed out for a few hours first, if this man on top of you won’t rampage and inflict several more stab wounds. But nonetheless, everyone’s safe. 

You have my heart, YN, so please come back to me.

“Jaehyun!” Shit, everyone’s safe except you. You promised not to disappoint the man. So with one last surge of strength, you butt his head with yours and push him away from you. He lets go of the dagger, leaving it in you. You know better than to pull it out so you run to one of his colleagues and search his body for another weapon you can use. And you weren’t disappointed. You find a pistol and aim it at your last enemy. 

He was charging at you and this was your last chance. So with Jaehyun’s words echoing in your thoughts, you pulled the trigger hitting the criminal right in the middle of his eyes. You don’t watch him crash down because you started coughing out some blood.

“General!”

From a near distance, you see some people running to you. You make out Jennie’s face as the one running in front. Your legs give up on you and you fall to the ground. But Jennie is already there to get you.

“General! Medic’s here, please stay awake!”

You signal Jennie to come closer to you to whisper your greatest concern at the moment. Jennie obliges and listens to what you have to say intently. You whispered what you had to say before the responders surrounded you and tended to you. You’re whisked away from Jennie’s arms and into the ambulance.

You see flashes of light and everything around you is in chaos. But you couldn’t care less. Not when Jaehyun was the last face in your mind as you blacked out.

–Final–

After 86 harrowing days in captivity, the eight individuals kidnapped by a Russian-led mafia syndicate have finally been reunited with their families, all thanks to the unwavering courage of General YN Park and Lt. General Jennie Kim, who bravely undertook the perilous mission alone.

National Assembly Speaker Minseok Kim has expressed profound gratitude toward General Park and her team, especially as he is reunited with his daughter, one of the victims in this case.

The surviving members of the syndicate have been handed over to the authorities for further investigation and due process.

However, General Park remains under care at Seoul National Hospital, where she is receiving treatment for serious injuries sustained during the mission. Prior to being transported to the hospital, the General was seen whispering something to Lt. General Kim. When asked about the General’s last words before receiving medical attention, Lt. General Kim revealed, “The General asked me to tell the doctor to minimize the scarring of her wounds—she has a beach trip planned next month.”

Jaehyun humorlessly laughs at the conclusion of the news. Only you can think about a beach trip while being in the face of death. 

However, despite the light hearted news, his legs take quick and huge strides to where your hospital room is. He didn’t bother taking the back entrance, the front entrance will bring him faster to you. He knows photos of him and news about the two of you will fill the papers and broadcasts tomorrow, but he didn’t care. His thoughts are fully on you. His heart is about to give up on him and all he wants is to see and hold  you. 

He reaches the floor where you are and as expected, it’s filled with security. You don’t see Yujin anywhere to help you get inside. But its okay, you gave him something that will get him to you.

“Woah, what’s this?”

“This is my seal. I’ve requested three of these from the bureau. The other two are with my parents and this one is for you. When you need me, you show this to any of my subordinates and they’ll bring me to you no matter what. Whether I’m in a meeting or in another country fighting a war, they’ll bring me to you. Use this any time.”

Jaehyun reaches out from his pocket and shows your seal to the first two soldiers guarding the area. Recognition dawns on their faces and they let him in. The others lead you to your room and as he opens the door, there you are lying down peacefully on the bed.

He walks to where you are and sits on the side of your bed. He takes your hand in his and gives it a longing kiss. He plays with your fingers and brushes some loose strands of your hair away from your face.

And as if you sense his presence, you slowly open your eyes. Jaehyun’s eyes widen at your consciousness and tries to get up to get a nurse. But you held on to his finger and whispered with all your strength, “I-I came back.”

You catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek before he plants a long chaste kiss on your lips, “Yes,” he chokes, “Yes,  you did, baby. Thank you for coming back to me.”

[studioeisa]

hey! i was wondering whether u could write one for this

https://www.tumblr.com/svtsofthours/768410973781524480/mingyu-zoned-out-you-leans-in-and-kisses-him?source=share

just like do not disturb.. 💕 (loved it btw)

💋 none the wiser (mingyu x reader)

★ footnotes: major shoutout to @svtsofthours for being so chill about me using their posts as prompts lol! mingyu soft hours are perpetually open, i fear. listened to kiss me by sixpence none the richer the entire time. word count: 830~

It's a Wednesday, and the only thing on Mingyu's mind is where the two of you should go this evening.

Very rarely does he have a day off like this. He can count on one hand the amount of times that practice has been canceled, that a schedule has been postponed. As it is, the stars have aligned to give him this free afternoon.

And who else would he want to spend it with but you?

The sudden freedom has thrown him off-kilter, though, leaving him fumbling for plans. Mingyu reveled in being the date-planner. In getting to smirkingly tell you I got this, baby every time the two of you were supposed to head out.

He's never learned to work with spontaneity, and so he spends half of his time agonizing.

The two of you are lounging in your apartment as Mingyu swears to figure it out. You're sprawled out on the couch, doing one thing or the other, while your legs rest in Mingyu's lap. He's absentmindedly rubbing your ankles with one hand while the other clutches his phone, scrolling through Klook articles of last-minute date ideas.

"Is it cold enough to go ice skating?" he mumbles, his eyebrows drawn together with laser-sharp focus. It's a rhetorical question, really, because before you can answer, he's already grumbling, "No, no, you're too clumsy for that."

"Hey," you protest.

Mingyu gives your ankle an affectionate pat, but keeps on reading.

There's so many things to do. And so little time. When tomorrow comes, he'll be swept back into his busy day-to-day. The two of you might not see each other for another week or so, and the mere thought of it already has his fingers tightening ever so slightly around you.

Mingyu has never particularly thought himself to be a selfish person. He shares almost everything with his members; he'll give what he can to his fans.

You make him greedy. For affection, for attention, for time.

"I can try to get us a reservation at Via Toledo," he muses.

"Too expensive," you whine.

"If it's for you? Never."

"Mingyu."

"Fine, fine."

He scrolls some more. Clicks on to an entirely different article altogether. He doesn't know why he's stressing over this so badly. He knows you, knows you'll be happy with whatever reasonable thing he offers.

He just can't help it. He wants so, so badly to be good for you, to be good to you.

"How about Lotte World?" he tries.

You look up from your own phone with a considering expression, though it's a bit more on the wary side. "Won't there be too many people?" you ask, ever the careful one.

"I can just rent it out for—"

"Baby!"

"Alriiiight."

Mingyu's pouting now, but you're immune to his little displays of petulance and his attempts at grand gestures. You go back to whatever you were reading with a bemused shake of your head.

He tries to focus on the nth Top Seoul Date Places blog post, but his mind has practically turned to mush at this point. He doesn't realize that his eyes are unfocused or that he's barely registering the words on his phone. His head has quite literally emptied out, all of his ideas making no sense. All Mingyu really wants is—

Oh.

He hadn't even noticed you shifting, hadn't picked up on you leaning forward. When your lips press a gentle, sweet kiss to his forehead, he's dragged back down to earth.

Mingyu blinks once, then twice. He looks to you, starry-eyed and smitten.

"What was that for?" he asks, sounding far too dazed for someone who has already received dozens, hundreds of your kisses.

"No reason," you answer. Your rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to go anywhere, you know."

"We don't?"

"We don't."

"But—"

His protest is cut off by you darting forward to leave another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

"This is enough," you tell him, and the sincerity in your tone is enough to leave him breathless.

And that was it, wasn't it? Mingyu had agonized, Mingyu had zoned out, Mingyu had fallen into near-panic, even, because he had wanted to make himself worth your time. He had wanted to give you the world. Something, anything to show you just how much he adored you.

But he supposes you're right.

"This is enough," he echoes quietly.

You get up from the couch to grab your laptop, announcing that the two of you are going to have a movie marathon. To give Mingyu something to do, you assign him the all-important task of ordering takeout. He rolls his eyes playfully but does as you ask, because you're the light of his life and he will order you the pizza you want if it's the last thing he does.

It's a Wednesday. Mingyu loves you, still.

svtsofthours post ->

Mingyu: [zoned out] You: [leans in and kisses him on the forehead] Mingyu: [blinks and smiles at you with stars in his eyes]

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 6 – The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad

I will preface this entry with an acknowledgement to my father. He is the most intelligent, quick-witted, and level-headed person I know. He’s also a bit of a bitch and tends to be blatantly honest. Sometimes that honesty hurts but it’s also nice to know he’s the one person in this world who won’t feed me a line of bullshit. He is also the best friend we all need.

On October 16, my father called me – like he does almost every day – to chat about, like usual, absolutely nothing. But, on this day, I was quite distracted (because the Time article about Nicola had just come out), which he called me out on almost immediately. Our conversation went something along the lines of:

Dad: “I can tell you’re not paying attention to me.”

Me: “Oh, I’m just reading an article that came out today. Actually, can I ask you a question about it?”

Dad: “Sure.”

Me: “I just want to read something to you, and I want you to tell me what you think this person is saying.”

Dad: “Okay.”

I then proceeded to read him verbatim the snippet from the Times article where Nicola talks about her relationship with Luke.

Me: “What do you think she is saying?”

Dad: “That this person is her best friend, and she thinks very highly of them.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Dad: “Why?”

Well, he opened the door so I gave him the backstory. I explained who Nicola and Luke were. I explained Bridgerton. I explained their chemistry during the World Tour. During this 15-or-so-minute conversation, my father took to renaming Nicola “Ireland” and Luke “Thang,” because that’s how he remembers things. Then I brought up the Claddagh ring.

Dad: “Wait. Stop – STOP! – STOP!! I said STOP TALKING! Why didn’t you lead off with this ring? I change my answer. She’s saying she’s in love with this guy!”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “Whatever you read earlier – I change my answer. She’s not saying they’re best friends. She’s saying she’s in love with him.”

Me: “Are you being legit?”

Dad: “Absolutely! Now, go back to the beginning because Ireland and Thang are a thing.”

Welcome aboard the USS Lukola, Daddy.

Recently, this conversation with my father got me thinking about how naïve I have been in believing all Lukolas were aware of the significance of Nicola’s Claddagh. I mean, surely, most of us know the term and meaning of “ring truther,” right?

Maybe not.

I’ve always chucked the Jakolas and A-holes up to be Conscientiously Stupid about the ring – disregarding it because it didn’t fit their narrative. But, shit, maybe they just don’t understand the Holy Grail of the Lukola fandom. So, I figured today, I’d dedicate my entry to explaining the ring to those who have no fucking clue what we mean when we say, “we’ll die on that ring!”

If you don’t want a history lesson or my opinion on the significance of the ring, you can move along and wait for my next post. Otherwise, happy reading. Actually, it’s a rather dull read – but informative. You may just need some caffeine to keep your focus up.

GENERAL HISTORY:

The Claddagh originates from Galway – yes, Nicola’s hometown in Ireland – and has been around for over 400 years. The ring typically shows two hands holding a heart which wears a crown, with the hands symbolizing friendship, the heart signifying love, and the crown representing loyalty.

The way a person wears their Claddagh traditionally signifies their relationship status.

On the RIGHT hand, with the HEART FACING OUTWARD away from your body (and towards your fingertips) means you are single, i.e, your heart is available for love.

On the RIGHT hand, with the HEART FACING INWARD towards your body (and towards the back of your hand), suggests you are in a committed relationship, i.e., your heart is taken.

On the LEFT hand, with the HEART FACING OUTWARD away from your body (and towards your fingertips) means you are engaged.

On the LEFT hand, with the HEART FACING INWARD towards your body (and towards the back of your hand), suggests you are married.

This is not gospel so please do not finish reading this post and start running around in circles, jumping up and down, exclaiming Nicola is married.

NICOLA’S CLADDAGH:

In June, Chupi announced it had designed and created a Claddagh for Nicola and noted “Nicola reached out to Chupi recently and requested a bespoke Claddagh Ring to celebrate the third season of Bridgerton.” Nicola’s ring was custom-made and differs from virtually all other Claddagh rings in that the hands of the ring also display rings of their own.

After creating the ring for Nicola, Chupi continued to sell it through its website, noting that the heart-shaped diamond in the ring was “[h]eld in a pair of hands that honor friendship and strength, with the left hand wearing a North Star signet ring.” In its original description, and for four months following this initial announcement, Chupi never explained the meaning of the ring on the right hand holding the diamond. We will speculate on that in a moment. Further, Chupi explained that the three diamonds in the crown “represent the traditional emblem of loyalty and also symbolize the past, present & future, along with a nod to the fact this is the 3rd season of Bridgerton.” There’s that Bridgerton reference again.

Now, let’s break down the hands holding the heart-shaped diamond, starting with the left hand.

The left hand is wearing a signet ring. This one is easy to explain because Chupi described the ring the left hand is wearing for us. It is the North Star signet ring, which Chupi sells through its website as its “North Star Diamond Original Signet Ring.” Chupi explained that the ring represented “True North.” What is “true north?” Besides its literal meaning, the phrase “true north” represents your “internal compass or your personal calling” and “your authentic self.”

The right hand is wearing a ring on its middle finger. This ring has always been a bit of a conundrum. As mentioned above, Chupi never explained this ring in its original description. In fact, it remained silent on its significance until November 1. And, even after it “explained away” the middle finger ring in an Instagram story (which disappeared after 24 hours), Chupi never updated its website to confirm its meaning. Why? Well, you’ll find that most “ring truthers” believe it’s because this middle finger ring represents Luke. Luke often wears a ring on his middle right finger. In fact, in his People spread for Sexiest Man Alive released November 14, he’s seen wearing a ring on his right-hand middle finger. You can also find him wearing a ring on his right-hand middle finger throughout the Bridgerton Season 3 World Tour.

But, let’s pretend for a moment that the rings on the two hands holding the diamond heart have no significance whatsoever. That does not negate the fact the ring was made as a nod to Bridgerton Season 3. Yes, the season that both Nicola and Luke repeatedly described during interviews throughout the World Tour as their “shared experience.”

To round out this little “history lesson,” and just so I am completely up front, on November 1, 2024, Chupi reshared to its IG stories a story shared by Ashley McDonnell explaining that the right-hand middle finger ring on the Chupi-branded Claddagh represented “power” (basically, women’s empowerment). As of that date, Chupi had also removed all mentions of Bridgerton from its Claddagh ring descriptions and left only a reference to the rings being “inspired by” Nicola. However, the Claddagh could still be found under Chupi’s “Engagement” ring section and the articles titled, “Designing a Chupi Claddagh Ring for Nicola Coughlan” and “What Way to Wear a Claddagh Ring” still, to this day, reside under its “News” section. These articles still reference the ring’s ties to the third season of Bridgerton.

A BUNCH OF POINTS I’M TRYING TO MAKE:

Point 1: Nicola had the ring commissioned herself, per Chupi. We can surmise she understands the meaning of the ring based on her Irish (and Galway) heritage; thus, we can also deduce she knows the meaning behind how it is worn.

Point 2: The ring is important to Nicola. I’m not even going to use disclaiming phrases like “may be” or “seems to be;” I’m just flat out stating the “ring IS important” to her. She has been seen wearing it a lot in her personal time. In fact, on September 20, she was photographed wearing the Claddagh during the Gucci afterparty, which means she took off the “workday” jewelry she had been wearing earlier in the day to put the Claddagh back on her finger. She has not been shy about flashing it in public. From her Chupi articles to her Tatcha stories to wearing it in public (at concerts, walking about).

Point 3: Based on comments made by Chupi on June 25 in its article titled, “Designing a Chupi Claddagh Ring for Nicola Coughlan,” it took four weeks “from a sketch to sparkling reality” to make the ring. This means, at the latest, it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024. However, some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches uploaded by Chupi indicate it was as early as April 26 (don’t even side eye me; I didn’t pull that shit). Based on this information, the ring was likely commissioned during and/or between the World Tour stops in Australia and Italy.

Point 4: Nicola wore the ring publicly as early as June 6 during the Dublin premiere. At that time, she wore it on her right-hand middle finger with the heart facing inwards. The way she wore the ring was also evidenced the following day in Galway by way of pictures in Chupi’s article titled, “What Way to Wear a Claddagh Ring.”

Point 5: Nicola flashed that glittering baby in her June 15 Tatcha IG post (I’m convinced that post holds so many secrets) and continued to wear it throughout the summer months (on her right-hand middle finger) as evidenced by pictures of her at the Taylor Swift Eras tour and in her August 1 Tatcha IG post. And, let’s round out the summer with her displaying the ring in her September 17 Tatcha IG stories, on September 20 during the Gucci afterparty, and in Alex Babsky’s September 25 IG post about Nicola being “in London today.”

Point 6: On October 1, Nicola had seemingly switched her diamond Claddagh from her right hand to her left-hand middle finger as exhibited in her Choose Love IG story. This switch was further indicated (but not confirmed because she conveniently put her caption over it) in her October 5 airplane IG story (deduced from the small gold band switching to her right hand) and in pap pictures of her published on October 8. On October 11, when she posted her Olaplex IG story, it appeared the ring was on her left-hand ring finger. We can also barely see the ring in the October 21 “Polin” picture; however, it cannot be determined if it is on her left-hand middle or ring finger. We haven’t seen her “out in the wild” since so the current status of her ring is not known, but we can probably safely assume she’s still wearing it, with the heart facing in.

Point 7: I believe everyone needs to make their own decision as to whether the right hand of the Claddagh – the one wearing the middle finger ring – represents Luke. Personally, I believe it does, but it is perfectly fine if you disagree. It could very well be a "power move." I’ve always believed the left hand of the Claddagh – the one wearing the North Star signet ring – represented “true north,” or Nicola’s internal compass to choose her own path. But, please do not let my opinion cloud your own.

Point 8: Regardless of your opinion about the hands holding the Claddagh’s heart-shaped diamond, the ring was acknowledged to represent Bridgerton Season 3 and that has Luke all over it.

Point 9: From Day 1, Nicola has worn the Claddagh with the heart facing inwards, meaning her heart is taken. To the best of my knowledge, this has never changed.

MY THOUGHTS:

First and foremost, Nicola has told the world her heart is taken.

Based on the above, why would Nicola wear that ring for anyone but Luke?

My father’s response: “She wouldn’t.”

Why? Because it would be fucking weird if she did.

Let’s play pretend for a moment.

You’re dating Nicola (and, NO, you can’t be Luke in this scenario). You’ve watched Nicola’s Bridgerton press tour for the past, say, six months. You’ve watched her flirt with Luke. You’re fully aware Lukolas ship her with Luke. In fact, you’re aware several of her castmates and crew ship her with Luke. You’re aware that, by the end of the World Tour, interviewers were getting bold enough to ask Nicola and Luke about their “friendship” because they, too, were intrigued by their chemistry. You’re also aware that, “People want [her] to marry Luke.” And, you’re fully aware that Nicola had that Claddagh ring made to, at a minimum, remind her of Bridgerton Season 3, the season she shared with Luke.

Would you be okay with her wearing THAT ring to signify the state of YOUR relationship with her?

If you are, get the fuck off my page.

Now, riddle me this, Batman –

Why was this ring made during the World Tour? And, more importantly, why was it worn during the World Tour?

Why did Luke and Nicola take a special trip to Galway? And (purely speculation here), why did the meeting with Nicola’s mum seem so emotional?

Why did the ring switch hands?

Why, Batman, why?

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 2

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As the flash of cameras blinded you, a reporter stepped forward, her voice eager as she asked, "How are you feeling now? We heard you were seriously ill while working abroad."

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. The treatment was tough, but I’m fine.”

Another reporter, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper, asked, “Can you tell us how you two met?”

You exchanged a brief glance with Bucky, before turning back to the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, we met at a music festival. I was in the corner trying to charge my phone, and this guy”—you gestured toward Bucky with a casual wave—“came over asking to borrow my charger. We started talking, mostly about music—our favorite artists, the ones we didn’t like. After that, we kept hanging out, and, well… it led to this.”

You smiled at the cameras, but there was a hint of something sharper in your eyes. “But, you know, not once did he ever mention his dream of going into politics,” you added, the words tinged with just enough edge to make Bucky flinch.

Bucky chuckled, the sound forced. “I didn’t want to scare her off.”

The press continued to bombard you both with questions, but most of them were directed at Bucky. He answered each one with the polished ease of a seasoned politician, while you stood there, feeling increasingly out of place and suffocated by the whole charade.

The situation you found yourself in—the pretense, the constant spotlight—filled you with a simmering frustration. You hated every minute of it.

As the car doors closed, you finally exhaled, the chaotic blur of cameras and flashing lights now safely behind tinted windows.

“Well done. You’re fitting right in,” Bucky said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of arrogance and ease as he loosened his tie.

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’ll just stay silent? I could write an article that would burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground.”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms with a casualness that made your blood boil. “Are you blackmailing me, babe?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“We have to start acting like a happy couple. Nicknames are part of the package,” he replied, his smirk never fading.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, loaded with every ounce of resentment you’d been holding in.

“I don’t, though. I never did,” Bucky responded, his tone softening, almost sincere.

You faltered for a moment, your defenses momentarily shaken. His words, no matter how simple, had a way of cutting deeper than you expected. But you quickly recovered, crossing your arms defensively.

“If I get elected, I promise your independent news company will have us as a sponsor,” Bucky continued, his tone now all business. “Isn’t your boss stressed out, looking for investors? Independent news still needs money to pay employees.”

You clenched your jaw. He was right, and you hated that he knew it. Your company was struggling, and his offer—no matter how twisted—would keep it afloat.

“Consider this a business relationship,” he added, his eyes locking onto yours, challenging you.

You leaned in closer, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, no, no. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky always gets.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. “Not this time. This time, I’m making sure we both get what we want. But don’t forget, if you decide to play with fire, be ready to get burned.”

The next thing, he did is made a video call, his eyes never leaving the screen. The call connected, and the familiar voice of your brother, Tim, came through the speaker.

“Hey, the numbers are looking great, bro,” Tim said, his enthusiasm evident even through the screen.

Bucky nodded approvingly. “Good. Oh, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He turned the phone to reveal you.

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omg, you’re back! You’re really here!”

Bucky chuckled, his expression smug. “I know, right?”

You were momentarily stunned, seeing your brother working for Bucky. The betrayal stung, making your heart twist in your chest. Tim’s presence here was a stark reminder of how deeply involved Bucky was in every aspect of your life now.

Tim pointed at you with a half-serious, half-playful expression. “Don’t mess this up.”

Bucky exchanged a few more words with Tim before ending the call. He looked over at you, his gaze intense. “He seems happy working with me. His hard work would be ruined if the truth got out, wouldn’t it, big sis?”

The words hung heavy between you, the implication clear. Bucky knew how protective you were of Tim and how much you cared for him. The tension in the car felt suffocating, every second stretching out as you tried to process the double blow of betrayal.

You turned away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, the realization of being trapped with no easy escape. Bucky was holding all the cards, and you were left grappling with the enormity of it all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The car navigated through a series of well-manicured streets, finally pulling up to a grand, sprawling estate. Your eyes widened as you recognized Bucky’s house, an imposing structure that spoke of old money and inherited power. The sight only deepened your sense of dread.

As you stepped out, you glared at Bucky, frustration etched on your face. “Am I going to stay here?”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance, his smile barely masking his amusement. “Oh no. We’ll be staying at another house. I just wanted to introduce you to the team.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped you. “Urghh… is your mother here too? I hate her.”

Bucky chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. “No filter, huh, babe? She’s here… but then again, you two have always had differing opinions.”

You shot him a withering look. “She’s the main reason I left. She hated me from the moment you introduced us. Remember? She called me a ‘poor bitch from Monte Cristo.’”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “It’s her signature move.”

“Bucky, the longer I stay with you, the more I want to snap. If you put me in the same room with your mother, I might just lose it,” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Bucky’s smile remained, but his eyes grew colder. “Good thing you won’t have to share the same roof then.”

As you walked through the house grand entrance, one of Bucky’s team members approached him with an enthusiastic smile. “Introducing her to the public really boosted our numbers. Great move, James.”

Bucky glanced at you with a victorious grin, as if he’d just won a major battle.

Soon, his siblings made their appearance. His brother, a tall, disheveled figure with an air of erratic energy, was clearly under the influence of cocaine. He flashed a toothy grin at you before turning his attention elsewhere. His sister, reserved and quiet, offered you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then, his young nephew Nate bounded up to you, his face lighting up with recognition. He wrapped his small arms around your leg.

“Hey, Nate!” you said, surprised and touched that he still remembered you. “It’s been a while.”

Nate looked up at you with wide eyes. “I remember you! You used to play with me.”

You patted his head gently, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Caroline Barnes, Bucky’s mother, observed you from the corner of the room. At seventy, she looked every bit the part of the icy matriarch, dressed head-to-toe in Chanel. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, were framed by a carefully styled silver coiffure. She held her champagne glass with a delicate but dismissive grip.

“Something about her, I always hate. I can’t explain why,” Caroline said with a sneer, her gaze never leaving you.

Julius Barnes, Bucky’s father, stepped in. With his full gray beard and military posture, he exuded authority. “Be nice, Caroline. It’s crucial for her to be here. We can’t afford to lose this opportunity.”

You looked at Julius and Caroline. Both had clearly aged, their faces lined with the stress of the campaign.

Caroline forced a thin smile. “Welcome. It’s so delightful to have you here. I’m sure you’ll find the atmosphere… inspiring.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, you’re such a fucking liar.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. “You’re really brave now,” she said, a hint of shock in her voice.

“Because I’m not part of your family anymore. The marriage between me and James was supposed to have ended,” you retorted, your voice cold and steady.

Caroline’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. “Well, dear, you must be quite the sight to behold for us tonight.”

Julius stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. “Let’s keep this civil. We have important matters to discuss.”

You glanced at Bucky, who watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was clear that this charade was far from over, and you were trapped in a web.

As you and Bucky prepared to sit down on the plush couch, the campaign team busied themselves in the background, setting up for the next presentation. You moved to take a seat, but Caroline's voice cut through the murmur of activity with a sharp edge.

“Na-ahh. Put a blanket under her,” Caroline said, her tone dripping with disdain. “We don’t know what kind of virus she’s brought back from another country. And this is a $50,000 couch.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “What the fuck? Is that a joke?” You turned to Bucky, eyes flashing with irritation. “Because strangling her is a joke for me.” You chuckled darkly, “I think it's funny too.”

Bucky’s face tightened as he stepped between you and his mother. “Stop it, Mom. I need her more than I need your attitude.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. “Well, isn’t that just charming,” she said, rolling her eyes as if the very act of speaking to you was beneath her.

Julius, standing nearby, shot Caroline a stern look, his military bearing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’re trying to keep things civil. This isn’t the time for your petty grievances.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s all just pretend we’re one big happy family, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the growing anger bubbling inside you.

The room felt charged with tension, and it was clear that the facade of civility was wearing thin. Bucky gave you a reassuring glance, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration.

Greg part of the campaign team, a wiry young man with an anxious energy, took center stage. He adjusted his glasses and began to explain the next phase of Bucky’s campaign strategy with a mix of nerves and enthusiasm.

“So the next plan is…” Greg said, his voice slightly shaky. He clicked through a series of slides on the screen behind him, each one detailing the upcoming events. “We’re focusing on increasing voter outreach through targeted social media campaigns and local meet-and-greets. We’ve also got a major fundraising event coming up next week.”

Bucky nodded, his expression a mask of professional detachment, though his eyes flickered with a hint of approval. You, seated beside him, tried to maintain your composure, though the tension in the room was almost palpable, especially with Caroline still glaring at you.

Greg continued, his tone growing more frantic as he reached the final point. “And the last thing…” He took a deep breath, glancing nervously between you and Bucky. “Both of you will need couples therapy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a sarcastic smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?”

Greg’s face reddened as he tried to recover from his awkward announcement. “I mean, it’s just… well, it’s a suggestion. You know, for the campaign’s sake. Sometimes, a little… uh… harmony at home can be beneficial.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, his gaze fixed on Greg. “I appreciate the suggestion, Greg. We’ll definitely consider it—maybe after we get through the rest of this circus.”

Greg nodded vigorously, clearly relieved to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “Right, of course. Well, let’s focus on the campaign, then.” He hurriedly wrapped up the meeting, leaving you both alone.

You sighed and turned to Bucky. “Did you wake up this morning and decide you wanted to be Vice President, or was it just a spontaneous career choice?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Oh, you know me. I was just lying in bed, thinking how I could add ‘Vice President’ to my list of hobbies. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace from ruining your day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unamused. “And here I was thinking you might have a bit of humility left.”

Bucky chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he shifted in his seat. “Humility? That’s for people who aren’t trying to get elected. But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find some way to make this circus amusing for both of us.”

He leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Honey, I’ll give you the ticket.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “A ticket? To what, exactly? Your endless charade?”

Bucky’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “To the front row of the greatest show on earth. It’s going to be quite a ride, I promise.”

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[chaisshitposts]

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇-𝐊 / 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐅𝐒 + 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

what is psych-k? •°. *࿐

according to the psych-k frequently asked questions, PSYCH-K, "is a proven and safe way to change subconscious beliefs that perpetuate old habits of thinking and behaving that you would like to change."^1 dumbing it down, you are using psych-k to tap into your subconscious and conscious simultaneously, rewiring your brain with a single affirmation. and while doing this, you may begin to have a rush of negative, limiting thoughts, but instead of pushing them away in frustration, you will invite them in. think of it like this... you are the teacher and your affirmation is a brand-new lecture. you're standing at the front of the room in front of many desks, all filled with 'students' aka your thoughts, emotions, etc. as you are 'lecturing' (repeating this affirmation over and over and over) the 'students' begin to disrupt you with hurtful words or overall trying to debate with your 'lecture'. how do you handle this? you continue to 'lecture', you can continue to listen to your 'students', and eventually, the 'students' will quiet down until there's complete silence and that's when your 'lecture' has started to implement its knowledge into your 'students'.

how does psych-k work? •°. *࿐

"PSYCH-K® is a unique process, having evolved from years of brain research and thousands of sessions with individuals and groups. It creates a receptive, “Whole-Brain State” that dramatically reduces unwanted resistance to change in the subconscious mind. The subconscious can be accessed in a way analogous to a personal computer. PSYCH-K® works as a kind of ‘mental keyboard’ — a user-friendly method of communicating with the subconscious mind that is simple, direct, and verifiable."^2

has there been scientific research on psych k? •°. *࿐

absolutely. if you'd like to read more about this, you can go here and download the various articles and give them a quick read.

how does psych-k differ from other methods as well as other healing techniques such as meditation? •°. *࿐

if you're looking for a thorough answer to this question, feel free to look at this for reference as it better explains the answer to this question in its entirety. the bottom line, however, is that this technique is just as important as others and is not meant to replace any other methods, it is simply another addition. many healing techniques will depend on outside sources of the person, such as a psychologist, hypnotist, or anyone with similar titles. however, psych-k will depend on the inner-workings of those who are performing it, psych-k simply provides the tools and you, the one who is getting into this 'whole brain state' are the one actually doing all of the work. you will be the one taking apart your limiting beliefs and replacing them with whatever you truly desire.

will it benefit me? •°. *࿐

PSYCH-K, "[...] enables you to communicate with your subconscious mind so you can change beliefs that are limiting your self-esteem, relationships, job performance, even your physical health…and much more! PSYCH-K® is popularly characterized as a spiritual process with psychological and physical benefits. While the term “psych” is often used as an abbreviation for “psychology,” in our case it is used as a variant spelling of the word psyche, meaning “mind,” “soul,” or “spirit.” The letter “K” represents the Key to sustainable success."^3

why should i test out the psych method? •°. *࿐

just like anything else, you do not need to try this out, however, what do you have to lose? the results may shock you.

can anyone do the psych-k technique? •°. *࿐

absolutely anyone can do the psych-k, it is not limited to any particular group of people, and it can effect people differently depending on how they use it.

how do i do psych-k? •°. *࿐

there are many videos on YouTube that will provide a visual guide of instructions on how to do it, however, this is the video that I use and I highly recommend that you watch the entire video to get a logical understanding of what's happening (if you prefer logical info like I do). and if you're having trouble figuring out how to position your hands, watch this video as well. I'd also like to mention that if you're unsure of which side of your brain has more resistance to a new belief, set yourself a timer for 5 minutes and do psych-k with your left ankle crossed over your right and your left hand crossed over your right. after the timer goes off, switch your right ankle to cross over your left, and your right hand to cross over your left. a l s o, if you decide to have resistance against this method bc or any method in general (bc you're stubborn perhaps), take the time to do psych-k and affirm that all methods work for you, boom, fuckin' foolproof.

can i use psych-k to manifest anything i desire? •°. *࿐

yes, yes you can, you're changing your beliefs right in the moment, there are no fuckin' limits unless you create those limits for yourself.

can i use psych k to enter the void state? •°. *࿐

yes, you can do anything you want with psych-k. @urgurljodie has a bit more information on this, but, i am aware that they sent an ask to someone and stated that while doing psych-k you should affirm that you're in the void state/in the void etc.

how do i know if I'm doing it right? •°. *࿐

there's no need to overcomplicate this, don't fear the replacement. simply sit down, get into position as instructed in the videos provided above, and follow their words. stay in the psych-k position for as long as needed, repeating your new belief over and over, invite the resistance in, and simply keep thinking this new thought until you no longer feel resistance towards your new belief. you'll know if you did it right, promise. may sound unbelievable at first, but again, what do you have to lose?

can i combine psych-k with the laws of manifestation? •°. *࿐

absolutely, use any affirmations you want.

do i have to do psych k to eliminate limiting beliefs? •°. *࿐

nope! this is simply just another method of sorts, you don't need to try anything you don't want to. no one is forcing this shit down your throat...

notes •°. *࿐

i'd recommend this technique that combines psychology and kinesiology to anyone and everyone who thinks they are struggling to build new beliefs or manifest their dream lives. the worse that could happen is that it doesn't work or it just takes you a little longer to replace the programming in your mind. give it a try and report your results. a l s o, before anyone comes at me i will give proper and due credit to @urgurljodie for bringing light to this technique to the tumblr void community, ya should be thanking them for this. this particular technique has thoroughly pleased the logical and more scientific-based limiting beliefs I've had for a while. this post was simply meant to add onto what's already been established, all due credits go to the developer of the technique of rob williams as well as the tumblr user mentioned above.

references.

all of the quoted information comes from this site.

1. https://psych-k.com/faq/#what

2. https://psych-k.com/faq/#what

3. https://psych-k.com/faq/#what

4. here's some information on muscle testing and psych-k

5. clearer instructions for the correct posture (en)

6. more information on the whole brain state

[after-witch]

Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito doesn't like that you have an interest in a book character.

Word count: 1787

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of other people being tortured/killed, supreme self indulgence of the highest order

“Who is the smiling man?” 

The silence that had existed between the two of you was broken by a question that made you flinch. Well, why not? Mahito has been quiet all morning--and afternoon, actually, which perhaps should have startled you more than his sudden words. 

But you were too happy to enjoy some quiet (you would never say “peace and quiet,” not down here, not with him); all too happy to curl up in your haphazard nest on the floor with some books that took  you away from this place. Away from Mahito.

Who was, of course, still here. Lounging in his hammock with a pile of books sagging down the netting. 

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was reading from down here--you probably needed new glasses, a subject you were certainly not going to bring up with Mahito, who might reiterate his offer to “fix” your eyes. It looked like a bundle of pages stapled together. Maybe he went to the library and printed off obscure articles to read again. 

“Hey,” he calls down, and the first hint of worry begins to prickle on your arms at his uncharacteristically serious tone, “Answer me.”

Your mind stutters, tries to put one word in front of the other, and make sense of it all. 

The smiling man? The smiling man, the… ah. From Small Spaces. The otherworldly supernatural entity who lives in a world behind mist and has a penchant for making deals with people for their greatest wishes. 

It’s not your fault that you haven’t thought about him in ages. It’s not like you had copies of your books with you, and the fun you had with imagining him in an endless number of scenarios had fallen by the wayside considering your circumstances. 

It’s hard to daydream about worlds behind mist and cornfield servants when you’re watching people be turned into grotesque experiments that had them, sometimes quite literally and loudly, begging for death.

Mahito is looking down at you now, staring expectantly. 

“He’s a character,” you say, fidgeting on the floor. “From a book series.” You look down, flip a page in your book, although you haven’t finished reading the last one, and ask, casually as you can muster: “Why?”

Mahito, up above, flips a page. You can hear the wobble in the paper--not a bound book, that’s for certain. And there’s some low, primal sense that shivers through you which says, plainly, that he’s actually reading whatever’s in front of him. 

“You write about him a lot.”

Oh.

Low, slimy dread filters into your stomach. Thick and gelatinous, resting at the bottom of your belly like an unwanted slug. 

“I… don’t know what you mean,” you say, voice only half-there, because while you are apparently stupid enough to lie to Mahito’s face, you’re not stupid enough to think he’ll believe you. 

You are just stupid enough to think that he won’t know exactly how deep your interest in this particular character goes; before Mahito took you, you thought about him all the time. You’d take walks and daydream about him, write story after story; you’d even commissioned fanart of him, because it wasn’t like there was a plethora of fanart for a character from a middle grade horror book. 

Mahito huffs out a sigh. Quick and short, it sends a shock right down your stomach. 

“Get you a man,” he starts, and confusion buzzes through your brain until he continues. “Who is an otherworldly entity that is so petty when an 11 year old beats him that he traps her in another world, leaving her to a fate worse than death, and laughs until he cries about it.”

You wrote that. There’s a vague memory of when you posted it--after you’d taken a walk, you think, and reread your favorite parts in the books for a few hours. But the way Mahito says it makes it sound--you don’t know how to explain it. Like saying the words out loud almost pains him; they come out clipped and bitter. 

Bitter? But why?

He doesn’t stop there. He reads something else, voice getting higher, almost mocking the way you talk. And that bitterness is still there, a thread continuing through every syllable.

“What if we kissed in the corn maze before you turned me into a scarecrow servant whose soul slowly gets dried out and useless and in the end you feed it, crunchy and tasteless, to your hellhound.” 

He takes a breath. Then--

“One particular aspect of the Smiling Man’s cruelty that I truly adore is that he can make people feel understood. He can make them feel like he cares, like he’s lending a listening ear, like he’s wanting to help them out and make them feel nice.”

Another breath--and he continues, again and again, reading your posts. Quoting your stories. Listing off the titles, the imagine posts, everything you’ve said about him.

All the while, bitter and mocking, his voice raising now and then in an imitation of your own. 

Then he gets to the last page of his clearly self-created tome and stares down at you, waiting, expectant. 

And you… you actually glare up at him. 

Because you're scared, sure. You’re always scared in some way, when you’re with Mahito. But there’s something else too, something that digs its way out of the rot in your gut and sticks up a petulant middle finger.

How dare he do this. How dare he take something that was yours and make it his; put it in his mouth and sneer over it. 

“Have you been--” Your mouth sticks together, refusing to let you accuse him of what you know he’s been doing. Stalking your online profiles. “That’s… that’s private,” is what you finally mutter, cheeks feeling hot and that half-buried petulance pushing you forward. “It’s not any of your business.” 

“Private?” He mutters the word softly, cradling the sound.

And then--

Mahito doesn’t often move fast around you. He prefers to be slow, languid. Calculating. You think it’s because that terrifies you more.

But now, in a moment, he goes from being slouched in his hammock to leaping down and crouching right in your face--there’s sudden pain in your head, and you realize he’s grabbed your hair and yanked it back.

That metaphorical middle finger sinks back down into the slimy gut sludge.

“Not from me,” he says, low, a warning. “Not for you.”

This is all it takes for tears to prick inside your eyes.

Mahito’s lips quirk up. Just a little. Just enough for you to notice.

“You’re going to cry already? I didn’t even do anything.”

Your eyes dart up and back, towards where he’s currently gripping your hair hard enough for it to sting.

He sighs through his nose. “This isn’t anything. You know that. Don’t be childish now.”

But--he lets go of your hair, and doesn’t grab for you when you scoot backwards on your blanket nest. Instead, he plops himself down, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his elbow.

You don’t speak. You don’t want to, and you don’t know what to say. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet around Mahito, so he doesn’t get ideas. Although he comes up with them on his own just fine, even if you try to stay silent.

It’s Mahito who breaks the silence.

“Why do you like him so much?”

How silly, to feel embarrassed right now. With the creature in front of you, and what he can do. But that’s what makes your cheeks burn: embarrassment. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, because while you are stupid in so many ways, you’re still smart enough to know he wants an answer. “I guess I just like antagonist characters sometimes.” Well, most of the time. But it’s better to keep that from Mahito, if you can.

Mahito’s lips quirk here and there while he thinks. Then he looks at you with something like genuine confusion.

“You say that you like how awful he is. The awful things he does. So…” He tilts his head a little. “You should like me. Right?”

Your fingers pick at the loose threads of your clothes. Your eyes don’t meet his entirely--they flick up and down, from your legs to his face. 

“It’s not the same thing,” is what you come up with. But how to explain that to a curse?

Mahito frowns. 

“I don’t understand.” No bitterness, no pouting. A simple statement of fact.

“He’s not real.” You swallow against the minefield that all of this is making you step through, hoping you’ll avoid them. “But you are. That makes it different.” 

Mahito leans forward, grabbing your wrists, pulling you closer to him with a yanking, childish gesture.

“So you should like me more,” he says, a slight pout in his tone. “Because I can really do those things.” His eyebrows raise, and you swear you can hear a buzzing light bulb go off. “I could turn someone into a scarecrow for you.” He smiles, sudden, excited. “Do you want me to find some school children to torment?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. There are brief images in your mind--the people he’s tortured and killed, experimented with, before you were here and while you’re here and probably after you’re dead and gone--and you shake them away. 

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow. He groans and rolls his eyes backwards until they are entirely white, not in mockery or an attempt to scare you, but in irritation. Fingers squeeze your wrists briefly and let go, and you stay quiet, trying to fight your urge to cry, until Mahito slowly rolls his eyes back to stare at you.

His gaze flicks over you, until he catches your eyes with his. 

“You won’t write about him anymore.”

You don’t take a moment to answer this time.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t read those books anymore.”

“I won’t,” you stay. “I haven’t. I--don’t even have copies anymore.”

Mahito smiles, a little. Maybe it’s a good thing you never asked him to find you a copy, a thought which had been a brief temptation a while back.

And then he leans in closer again, until his nose touches yours.

“You won’t think about him anymore,” he says, quiet, solemn. Not an order but a matter of fact. 

You don’t answer. You swallow against a bitter taste in  your throat; you swear, sometimes, that the sludge in your gut is real and tries to make its way out sometimes.

Mahito presses his nose against yours until it starts to hurt.

“You won’t,” he says again, this time more to himself. “I’ll make sure of it.”

[visenyaism]

hi visenyaism, sorry i know this is mainly an asoiaf blog but I loved your literacy & kids in school analysis and i had a question. idk if you're familiar with the "male flight" from college substack article making the rounds on tumblr (tldr: the author takes the thesis of this sociological paper that men stopped enrolling in vet school once women enrollment hit 60% and suggests that it could explain why men's enrollment in college generally has fallen bc women's enrollment has now hit that 60% threshold & men, or well, straight men, want to avoid anything deemed too feminine) and I was wondering if you've also noticed that men / boys tend to devalue going to college and generally had any thoughts on this phenomenon?

Hm. Here’s the article if you haven’t read it:

I agree with her about a lot. I think a lot of it really is that we beat into young girls’ heads from the start that you need to work hard and become financially and professionally independent because of you don’t you will be dependent on and taking care of a man forever. But boys are way more likely to get the “don’t worry you will find someone to take care of you no matter what it is what you deserve” message. I have noticed a rise of this anti-college intellectualism particularly in young men that it is a scam and that even if you get a job, it’s gonna be like the beginning of fight club where it’s like super emasculating to do that because you’re following the system. 

I can tell you it’s a common phenomenon in high schools that honors classes are disproportionately female and standard level classes are disproportionately male. Some of it is just outperformance (which I think is the aforementioned messaging difference and also just because I think we hold young women to a higher standard academically and behaviorally and they react accordingly.) I have talked to male students who have insinuated that performing well in school is kind of girly because it’s like being submissive.

The messaging facing young men that going to college is overrated because that kind of 9-to-5 white collar job you’re supposed to get as a result is inherently kind of feminine or cuck or beta or whatever is common. Of the group of students not going to college after they graduate I think girls are in my experience more likely to have a plan like they’re joining the military or they’re going to trade school or they’re going to community college or taking a year off. Whereas boys Are more likely to have that mentality that they’re gonna become an influencer or a day trader or crypto whatever or a twitch streamer because that’s more alpha than following the system. I think a lot of our anti-intellectualism in society is a result of this messaging that going to college is now girly.

What I really hate is when people point at high levels of women enrolling in college as evidence that the system is rigged in favor of women which has never been true and is not true currently. I feel like “male flight” is not a complete answer, but it is definitely more comprehensive of an explanation than a lot of the other ones I’ve heard.

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][friends to lovers][oral (m! receiving)][couch sex][fingering][spit][deep throat][touching through clothes][anal play][leash][just the tip]

Kyle doesn't wanna admit he's having a good time, spending his Valentine's Day with his best friend instead of a romantic partner.

You're lounging lazily on the sofa beside him, attention on the screen of the TV while you munch absentmindedly on the snacks that are littered across the surface of the mahogany coffee table, your head resting on the armrest while your feet remain nestled in Kyle's lap while he massages the arch of your foot.

You're playing some stupid romcom. One of many that you found on some Pinterest list, and you're forcing him to watch it with you.

"Honestly, if I was her, and I found out I was part of a bet, I'd have set his hair on fire." Kyle comments offhandedly, his pudgy thumb brushing over where the frilly edge of your sock fails to hide the soft skin of your legs.

"His hair looks a little wet, though." You murmur with a hum. "I don't think it'd catch fire quick enough."

"It could be gel?" Kyle suggests. "Some hair gels are flammable."

"Nuh uh." You disagree with a huff, reaching over and grabbing your phone from the coffee table, before you open your Google, and your fingers fly across the keyboard at a speed that would be impressive if Kyle didn't know about your damn near crippling masturbation habits.

He knows you don't even do it because you're horny. You just get bored and you like to fidget with things.

"Yes, some hair gels can be flammable, particularly cheaper brands, so it's important to check the label and avoid using any gel that explicitly states it is flammable; if you're unsure, consult the product information or manufacturer." You read, your attention on the screen of your phone before you toss it aside, discarding the device.

"I thought because it's like... Wettish, it can't catch fire." You state with a hum, shoveling a handful of potato chips into your mouth and you chew, simply grumbling in annoyance when Kyle swipes his palm over your mouth to get rid of the crumbs.

"You know, gasoline is pretty wet. So is oil." Kyle mocks you, leafy gaze twinkling with amusement at the sight of your narrowing eyes.

"Technically, the human brain can't perceive wet, only cold." You respond, almost defensively and you feel the way his thumb digs into the arch of your foot, the sensation making your toes curl and a ticklish snort to leave you.

"That's bullshit." Kyle groans. "Where'd you even learn that? YouTube shorts?"

"Just because it's YouTube shorts, doesn't mean it isn't informative."

"Google it then."

You type, eyes narrowed and muttering profanities under your breath.

"The answer is no. Humans don't have receptors to perceive wet and instead, use the receptors of temperature and touch to create the illusion of 'wetness'." You read with ease, before letting out a snort of victory.

"Whose article is that?"

"Live Science dot com."

"See? If it doesn't come from Bill Nye's mouth, I don't believe it." Kyle dismisses you, his arms crossing over his chest and you groan.

"Shut up, and play with my feet."

Kyle continues to play with your feet, thumbs pressing onto the pads of your toes through the socks and he groans.

"Oh God, she's reading a poem about him now?"

"Kyle, you're ruining the movie."

"She should just kick his ass and get a move on. We're watching Monsters Inc after this."

"She can't kick his ass, Kyle. She's feeling complex emotions about how he makes her feel. It's not that simple, Kyehl."

There's a silence in the room before Kyle lets out a snort.

"Did you just call me 'Kyehl'?" Kyle questions you, amused, and his inky brow raises, tawny cheeks dimpled and the apples of his cheeks rise.

"Whatever, Kyehl. Just watch the movie."

Kyle lets out a huff of laughter, before his hands move higher, massaging the fatty flesh of your calves, fingertips digging into the muscle and pressing on the spots below your knees.

Before his digits lightly trace absent minded patterns on the backs of your knees, teasing the sensitive skin while his attention is completely on the screen. And you swallow, shifting a bit closer to Kyle and you can't really do anything about the way your thighs spread a bit more.

It's a tense, teasing game, entirely silent other than the sounds of romantic music that plays from the apartments around you, and the sounds of the movie playing. But neither of you are focusing on the movie.

Both just... Pretending.

His fingers trace patterns up your inner thighs, supple skin soft beneath his touch and Kyle's fingers ghost over the cleft of your cunt, the cotton shorts clinging to your flesh and goddamn, he loves that you don't wear panties after an everything shower.

Kyle listens to the way your breath hitches, and he keeps touching you.

Trying to test the waters as his thumb brushes over your folds, circling over where he assumes your clit should be and he knows it's there when your bottom lip finds solace between your teeth, brows twitching and cheeks tinting into a reddish hue.

And you swallow.

Hard.

Thighs spreading even wider, forcing the heart-printed shorts to shift, giving Kyle the most lovely peek at your smooth, glistening cunt. And he swallows.

Dragging his middle finger down your leaking slit before carefully slipping his digit into you, his hand shifting palm up and he crooks his finger, brushing against that gooey spot that makes your toes curl and your hips tilt in that salacious way.

Neither of you are focusing on the movie and it isn't long before the credits are rolling and Kyle's bodies looming over yours, his fingers fucking into your gooey cunt and your manicured nails are digging into his forearms.

"Shit, you're so good with your fingers..." You breathe out, your chest heaving and your eyes flitting between Kyle's, and his hand, the muscles in his wrist tensing with each pump of his fingers and you whine softly, keening into his touch.

"Yeah, I'm good with a lot of things." Kyle whispers softly, leaning over you and his lips press against yours in a sloppy, messy kiss. Your lips feel so soft against his. Pillowy and lush, melting perfectly against his mouth as your fingers rake through his hair, desperation causing your hips to move, trying to take his fingers deeper.

Harder.

Faster.

"You wanna show me what you're good at?" He offers you so sweetly, and you can't deny him. Not when his knuckles are kissing your slick and puffy pussy so gently, and definitely not when his tongue is tracing your ear.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

"Fuck, how did you get so good at this?"

Kyle's barely keeping it together, his lashes fluttering with each heavy breath he lets out, his eyes locked on the sight of you with his cock buried in your mouth.

Your head bobs rhythmically, your eyes on his as you stare up at him through fluffy lashes and your lips are wrapped around him so sweetly, your tongue moving against the sensitive veins on the underside of his shaft.

And Kyle whines.

"Those fucking eyes." He pants, fingers threading through your hair before ultimately fisting at the crown of your head, and he forces your head down, encouraging you to take him all the way to the back of your throat and kyles head tips back against the sofa.

His hips jerking upwards to meet your throat, soft tissue wrapping around him like a wet and cozy glove, your nose tickled by dustings of dark hair and your bottom lip has drool and precum trickling down it.

"You're so pretty." Kyle's thumb brushes a stray tear away from your eye, the sensation of holding your breath for too long is getting to you and you nearly choke before Kyle lets you come up for air. And you pant, thick, nearly opaque saliva, dribbles down your chin in thick, slimy frothy gossamers and you groan, using your saliva as you wrap your hand around Kyle's cock, pumping him as you lick at his swollen head.

This has been his fantasy for so long.

Seeing you with your knees digging into the carpet, your eyes tearing and lashes wet with unshed tears, your lips glossy and spit-covered, and your saliva dripping down his cock like how water splashes down the sides of a glass too full.

And it's accurate.

He's too full.

Heavy and full balls press against your bottom lip as you swallow him, allowing Kyle to feed you cock like he's always wanted and he groans loudly, head falling forward before you come up for air.

"Fuck, you're so slutty for me." Kyle whines, his lashes fluttering and his fingers dig into either side of your face, cupping your chin and leaning forward to press quite literally, the hottest kiss against your lips.

He can taste himself of your tongue but that doesn't stop him from sucking on the wet muscle, nipping at your bottom lip before he straightens up, carding his fingers through his hair.

And he swallows, chest heaving.

There's no fucking way he wants you this bad. His cock's twitching, weeping beads of precum that lather his cock alongside your saliva and he tries to figure out when you got this hot.

When you became his walking wet dream and he hits a blank. Before taking another deep breath.

"Get on the couch and bend over." Kyle instructs, his voice breathy and a low husk that makes your cunt throb needily, slick clinging to the fabric and making it translucent enough for Kyle to see your pretty pussy when you bend over, still in your shorts.

And God, is it pretty.

Pretty, slick folds, puffy pussy lips and a slit that just doesn't stop oozing for him.

And Kyle shifts, positioning himself behind you as he drags the tip of his cock against the fabric, nearly fucking the cotton into you with the way he teases your needy, neglected hole.

Before he lets out a sigh.

"I can't stick it in." He cards his fingers through his hair, although, his hips are grinding against yours, his cock nestled in the crease of your fleshy globes, fabric moved to the side and he stares at you with pure need.

Pure desire.

"Huh..?" You whimper softly, looking up at Kyle over your shoulder, only to find him staring at you like you're the prettiest fucking thing he's seen in a good long while.

Admiring every part of you.

Creamy, fat mounds, pillowy thighs and a pretty pussy.

But right above it, is a pretty furled rim, pulsing for him and he spits down the crevice of your ass, enjoying the way your back arches and Kyle's thumb traces the rim sweetly, attentively and he swallows.

"How about here?" He asks softly, slipping his thumb past the right muscle, feeling the way you clench down on him. So nervous, so hesitant and so fucking sexy.

"My... ass?" You think really long, and really hard before making an executive decision.

"Just the tip, okay?"

Kyle smiles at the rule, and his hand moves to fist his cock, readying it at your virgin hole, and his other spreads the fatty mound further away from the other.

Kyle's ring glows.

A bright, emerald light that twinkles so prettily before you feel a weight around your neck.

A fucking choke collar.

And Kyle sighs softly, his tip slowly stretching you out as he tightens his grip on your leash.

"Just the tip, yeah?"

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