#Law assignment help with case study

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Mastering Case Studies in Law: Essential Tips and Resources for Effective Assignment Help

Navigating the intricate world of law can often feel like walking a tightrope. Whether you’re a student grappling with your assignments or a professional diving into legal analysis, mastering case studies is crucial for success. Case studies provide an invaluable opportunity to apply theoretical knowledge to real-world scenarios, enhancing both understanding and practical skills. If you're seeking effective strategies and resources for tackling those challenging case studies in Law assignment help india to the right place. This guide will illuminate different types of case studies you might encounter, outline essential steps to help you master them effectively, and introduce key resources that can make your research process smoother. Let’s dive in!

Types of Case Studies: Analytical, Descriptive and Comparative

Case studies in law can be categorized into three main types: analytical, descriptive, and comparative. Analytical case studies dissect complex legal issues by examining various components of a specific situation. They focus on understanding the implications of different decisions or actions taken within a particular context. This type helps students develop critical thinking skills. Descriptive case studies are more about providing a detailed account of events or situations without delving deep into analysis. They document what happened, when it occurred, and who was involved. This format is great for establishing foundational knowledge. Comparative case studies contrast two or more cases to highlight similarities and differences in outcomes or strategies employed. By doing so, they reveal patterns that may not be visible when studying one case alone. Each type serves its purpose in enhancing comprehension and application of legal principles.

Steps to Mastering a Case Study in Law

When tackling a case study in law, start by thoroughly reading the assigned material. Understanding the facts is crucial. Take notes to capture key points and arguments. Next, identify the legal issues at play. This involves pinpointing relevant laws and regulations that apply to your case. Highlight how these elements interact with one another. Once you've outlined the issues, brainstorm potential solutions or outcomes based on legal precedents. Consider analyzing different perspectives—this can enrich your argumentation. Draft your analysis clearly and concisely. Use headings and bullet points for better readability; this will help maintain focus on essential details. Review your work critically. Ensure logical flow and coherence in your arguments while checking for grammatical errors or inconsistencies that could detract from clarity.

Essential Resources for Research and Analysis

When tackling case studies in law, having the right tools and resources is crucial. These can significantly enhance your research and analytical skills. Start by exploring legal databases like Westlaw or LexisNexis. They provide a wealth of information on cases, statutes, and legal articles. Familiarizing yourself with these platforms will streamline your research process. Don’t underestimate the power of academic journals. Publications such as the Harvard Law Review or Yale Law Journal offer insightful analyses that can deepen your understanding of complex topics. Additionally, utilize online forums and communities focused on law studies. Platforms like Reddit’s r/LawSchool or specialized Facebook groups allow you to connect with peers who share similar challenges and experiences. Books are another excellent resource. Titles such as "The Legal Analyst" by Ward Farnsworth break down intricate concepts into digestible pieces. Your library may have books specifically oriented towards case study methodologies too. Websites dedicated to educational content often feature guides on how to approach case studies effectively; sites like Coursera or Khan Academy can be particularly helpful for foundational knowledge. Consider enrolling in workshops or webinars focused on legal writing and analysis offered by various universities or organizations within India. By leveraging these resources smartly, you'll be well-equipped to tackle any law assignment help in India you encounter during your academic journey.

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Assign me the course and I will be able to handle every assignments, homework, projects, discussions, Quizzes as well as final exams.

I will also handle Single Quizzes and Assignments

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Mastering Assignments in Australia: Your Ultimate Guide to Business, Law, and Case Study Help

Assignments are a critical part of academic life in Australia, requiring students to engage in deep research, critical thinking, and effective writing. Whether you're studying business, law, or any other subject, understanding how to tackle your assignments can significantly impact your grades and overall success. This guide will delve into the essentials of Australian assignment help, focusing on business assignment help, law assignment writing services, and case study assignment help. We will explore practical tips, resources, and strategies to help you excel in your academic journey.

Understanding the Australian Academic Landscape

Australia is home to some of the world's top universities, offering diverse courses and disciplines. However, the academic standards in Australian institutions are rigorous, often challenging students to meet high expectations in their assignments. Understanding the nuances of the Australian education system is the first step toward academic success.

1 Why Assignments Matter

Assignments test your understanding of course material.

They develop critical thinking and problem-solving skills.

Assignments often contribute significantly to your final grade.

2 Common Types of Assignments

Essays

Reports

Case Studies

Research Papers

Presentations

3 Challenges Faced by Students

Time Management

Understanding Assignment Requirements

Research Skills

Writing Skills

Australian Assignment Help – Your Academic Ally

Seeking help is not a sign of weakness but a strategy for success. Australian assignment help services can be your ally in navigating the complexities of academic assignments.

1 What Is Australian Assignment Help?

Professional assistance in writing and editing assignments.

Expert guidance on research and structure.

Tailored help to meet specific academic requirements.

2 Benefits of Australian Assignment Help

Saves Time: Focus on studying while experts handle your assignments.

Ensures Quality: High-quality, plagiarism-free content.

Provides Clarity: Clear understanding of complex topics.

3 How to Choose the Right Assignment Help Service

Look for experienced and qualified writers.

Ensure the service offers plagiarism checks.

Read reviews and testimonials from other students.

Check for 24/7 customer support.

Excelling in Business Assignments with Expert Help

Business studies are a popular choice among students in Australia, offering vast career opportunities. However, business assignments can be challenging, requiring a solid grasp of theories, models, and practical applications.

1 Types of Business Assignments

Business Plans

Marketing Strategies

Financial Analysis

Management Reports

Case Studies

2 Common Challenges in Business Assignments

Understanding complex business models.

Analyzing financial data.

Applying theoretical knowledge to real-world scenarios.

3 How Business Assignment Help Can Boost Your Grades

Expert insights into business concepts.

Accurate and well-structured financial analysis.

Assistance in developing practical business solutions.

4 Tips for Writing Effective Business Assignments

Start with a clear understanding of the assignment question.

Use relevant business models and theories.

Provide real-world examples to support your arguments.

Ensure your analysis is data-driven.

Law students in Australia face unique challenges due to the complexity of legal studies. Law assignments require a deep understanding of legal principles, case laws, and the ability to apply them in various contexts.

1 Understanding Law Assignments

Legal Essays

Case Notes

Problem Questions

Research Papers

2 Challenges in Law Assignments

Complex legal terminology.

Understanding and analyzing case laws.

Structuring arguments logically.

3 How Law Assignment Writing Services Can Help

Expert writers with legal backgrounds.

Assistance in legal research and case analysis.

Help with structuring and formatting legal documents.

4 Tips for Writing Successful Law Assignments

Understand the legal principles relevant to your topic.

Use authoritative legal sources.

Structure your argument logically, supporting it with evidence.

Avoid plagiarism by properly referencing legal texts and case laws.

Mastering Case Studies with Professional Help

Case studies are a common assignment type in business, law, and other disciplines. They require a detailed analysis of a particular situation, company, or legal case, often involving real-world scenarios.

1 What Are Case Study Assignments?

In-depth analysis of a specific case.

Application of theoretical knowledge to real-life situations.

Requires critical thinking and problem-solving skills.

2 Challenges in Case Study Assignments

Understanding the case context.

Analyzing data and drawing conclusions.

Providing actionable recommendations.

3 Case Study Assignment Help – How It Can Benefit You

Expert analysis and insights into the case.

Assistance in identifying key issues and solutions.

Help with structuring and writing the case study assignment help.

4 Tips for Writing Effective Case Studies

Start by thoroughly reading and understanding the case.

Identify the key issues and challenges.

Use relevant theories and models to analyze the case.

Provide clear, actionable recommendations.

Practical Tips for Academic Success in Australia

Achieving academic success in Australia requires more than just completing assignments. It involves effective time management, research skills, and the ability to apply knowledge practically.

1 Time Management Strategies

Create a study schedule and stick to it.

Break down assignments into manageable tasks.

Avoid procrastination by setting deadlines for yourself.

2 Research Skills

Use academic databases and libraries for research.

Evaluate sources for credibility and relevance.

Take detailed notes and organize your research.

3 Writing and Editing Tips

Start with an outline to organize your thoughts.

Write clear, concise, and focused content.

Proofread and edit your work to ensure accuracy and clarity.

4 Seeking Help When Needed

Don’t hesitate to ask for help from professors or peers.

Use Australian assignment help services when necessary.

Join study groups for collaborative learning.

Balancing Academic and Personal Life

Maintaining a balance between your academic responsibilities and personal life is crucial for your well-being and success.

1 Importance of Balance

Reduces stress and burnout.

Improves overall academic performance.

Enhances personal growth and development.

2 Tips for Achieving Balance

Prioritize your tasks and focus on what’s most important.

Set aside time for relaxation and hobbies.

Stay connected with family and friends for emotional support.

3 Utilizing Resources for Support

University counseling services for mental health support.

Academic advisors for study tips and career guidance.

Online resources and forums for peer support.

Conclusion

Assignments are an integral part of your academic journey in Australia. By understanding the academic landscape, seeking the right help, and applying practical tips, you can excel in your studies. Whether it’s business assignment help, law assignment writing services, or case study assignment help, the resources and strategies discussed in this guide are designed to empower you to achieve your academic goals. Remember, success in your assignments is not just about hard work; it’s also about working smart and seeking help when needed. With the right approach, you can master your assignments and pave the way for a successful academic career in Australia.

Call to ActionIf you’re struggling with your assignments or looking for expert guidance, don’t hesitate to reach out to TutorHelp4You. Our team of experienced professionals is here to provide you with the best Australian assignment help, business assignment help, law assignment writing service, and case study assignment help. Contact us today and take the first step toward academic success!

[henry239]

https://www.theassignmenthelpline.com/mba402-governance-ethics-and-sustainability-report.html

[feminist-space]

"Balaji’s death comes three months after he publicly accused OpenAI of violating U.S. copyright law while developing ChatGPT, a generative artificial intelligence program that has become a moneymaking sensation used by hundreds of millions of people across the world.

Its public release in late 2022 spurred a torrent of lawsuits against OpenAI from authors, computer programmers and journalists, who say the company illegally stole their copyrighted material to train its program and elevate its value past $150 billion.

The Mercury News and seven sister news outlets are among several newspapers, including the New York Times, to sue OpenAI in the past year.

In an interview with the New York Times published Oct. 23, Balaji argued OpenAI was harming businesses and entrepreneurs whose data were used to train ChatGPT.

“If you believe what I believe, you have to just leave the company,” he told the outlet, adding that “this is not a sustainable model for the internet ecosystem as a whole.”

Balaji grew up in Cupertino before attending UC Berkeley to study computer science. It was then he became a believer in the potential benefits that artificial intelligence could offer society, including its ability to cure diseases and stop aging, the Times reported. “I thought we could invent some kind of scientist that could help solve them,” he told the newspaper.

But his outlook began to sour in 2022, two years after joining OpenAI as a researcher. He grew particularly concerned about his assignment of gathering data from the internet for the company’s GPT-4 program, which analyzed text from nearly the entire internet to train its artificial intelligence program, the news outlet reported.

The practice, he told the Times, ran afoul of the country’s “fair use” laws governing how people can use previously published work. In late October, he posted an analysis on his personal website arguing that point.

No known factors “seem to weigh in favor of ChatGPT being a fair use of its training data,” Balaji wrote. “That being said, none of the arguments here are fundamentally specific to ChatGPT either, and similar arguments could be made for many generative AI products in a wide variety of domains.”

Reached by this news agency, Balaji’s mother requested privacy while grieving the death of her son.

In a Nov. 18 letter filed in federal court, attorneys for The New York Times named Balaji as someone who had “unique and relevant documents” that would support their case against OpenAI. He was among at least 12 people — many of them past or present OpenAI employees — the newspaper had named in court filings as having material helpful to their case, ahead of depositions."

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: Professor Higuruma has entered the chat. I’m sorry this part is a little short, but if I included the next scene in this part, it would be WAY too long.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

You’re starting to believe that you dreamt the whole marriage negotiation with Sukuna.

It had been nearly a week since he sat you down in his office, and he’s been radio silence ever since. So, maybe you dreamt it all, or perhaps he decided against the whole marriage thing. If that was the case, you needed to start looking for other jobs.

Your Friday afternoons were reserved for Higuruma’s criminal law class. You sat at your desk, typing away on your computer that your student loan paid for. It was second-hand from a different girl who had just passed her bar exam. Her parents bought her the newest MacBook on the market as a present.

When you passed your bar exam, you’d probably buy yourself a two thousand yen cake from the grocery store. Maybe you’ll even splurge and spend five thousand yen on an ice cream cake.

You halfway hear your professor assign a plethora of readings spanning from case files to different codes of law.

"It's a good thing C's get degrees, huh?" a sheepish playful voice whispers from beside you. Your eyes glance over towards the guy next to you. You're able to immediately recognize him as Yuji Itadori.

Before Sukuna, you only took notice of Yuji since he tried to make friends with everyone, regardless of social status. Even if you've barely spoken with him, you feel a sort of kinship with him.

Now, your eyes immediately fix on his soft pink hair. While Sukuna's felt more like a dusty rose color. Yuji's was brighter -- untainted from crime.

"Is a C going to help you pass your bar exam though?" you whisper back softly, giving him a smile.

"You're so cruel~" Yuji softly whines as he dramatically slumps back into his chair. You quietly laugh from his theatric display. "And here I thought you'd be so kind and offer to help me study..."

You glance back towards him before scanning everyone else in the lecture. The majority of the other students were dutifully taking notes.

"Uh... why me?" You ask, cocking your eyebrow at the male before you realized how rude that probably sounded. "I mean, why would you ask me for that? Wouldn't you be better off asking the top performers in our class?"

"One of those pretentious jerks? Give me a break," Yuji rolls his eyes as he leans towards you. He's not too close to make you uncomfortable, just close enough to whisper without disturbing anyone. "Besides, you seem nice. Also, we sit beside each other everyday. Aren't those good enough reasons?"

Before you could even think to reply, Higuruma addressed the entire class. It was the end of the lecture period.

“Alright everyone, please remember to have a safe weekend and to stay out of trouble,” Professor Higuruma says from the forefront of the class. Students immediately begin to gather their belongings and shuffle out of the lecture hall.

"Let me know what you decide next week!" Yuji said as he rushed out of the door like he couldn't get away from the academic setting fast enough.

You finish up a few quick edits on your notes before saving them and promptly sliding your laptop into your bag. You thought about checking your phone to see if Sukuna had left you any cryptic messages, but you decided against it. It’s not like you were desperate or anything.

“Ah, Y/n, do you mind staying for a bit? I would like a word with you,” Higuruma’s voice spoke up. He wasn’t nearly as loud as he could be while lecturing.

Your body tenses as you slowly pull your messenger bag over your shoulder. “Sure…” you respond hesitantly.

He knows. He knows that you’re practically engaged to a yakuza lord. He knows that you’ve been dancing dangerously close to sin at Malevolent Mass. He’s going to report you to student affairs. He’s—

Your mind swirls with all of your thoughts Your brain was running so fast you could barely keep up.

The last student leaves the lecture hall, and you can hear the soft sounds of the second hand ticking from the clock mounted to the wall.

Your steps are slow and calculated. Higuruma was at his desk, collecting papers into his bag. He then looked up at you and gave you a calm, fond smile.

You try to ease your weary heart, telling yourself that he’d look much less happy if he had caught onto you.

"I apologize. I'm sure you must be busy," he starts out as he finishes packing up his bag. He straightened his posture, having to look down at you now that he wasn't hunched over. "I wanted to just touch base with you about your paper."

"Oh okay," you inwardly let out a huge sigh of relief, but your curiosity soon resurfaced. "What about my paper?"

"Don't worry. It was a great paper, y/n. I have read summations from licensed attorneys that pale in comparison to your paper." You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a gnawing sensation of anxiety sink in.

"But..?" you prompt.

Higuruma gives a knowing smile, appreciative of your inquisitive nature. "But I was wondering what made you write about spousal privilege... The last I checked you were looking to be civil litigation attorney -- not a criminal defense attorney. So, why would you want to research something like spousal privilege?"

You swallow thickly. You had found interest in spousal privilege due to your arrangement with Sukuna. Spousal privilege allowed for wives and husbands to refuse to testify against their spouse if it would indict their spouse on any crime. There were specifications on this law, and there were certain instances were spousal privilege couldn't be upheld. Overall, Japan looked to uphold the sanctity of marriage, and you looked to uphold your image by not being called to testify against your husband one day.

"Oh... I just found it to be interesting. I think it's good for all attorneys to be well-rounded, right?" you finally respond, giving your best attempt at bluffing the criminal defense attorney Hiromi Higuruma.

"You're most certainly right." He places his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I was just looking forward to you switching majors. It'd be a pleasure to steal one of Kento Nanami's best proteges."

You feel your face warm from his overzealous compliment. You were definitely not one of Nanami's best students. Still, you enjoyed the praise.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," you give a small laugh, consciously making an effort to joke with him naturally.

“Disappoint? No, no, you impress me.” His eyes meet yours, and for the first time since starting school, you see him for who he is. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and nurturing. He cared a lot about the subject he taught, and he tried his hardest to help his students learn.

Criminal defense attorneys get a bad wrap for being arrogant and pretentious to a degree, and that’s not exactly a lie either. You’ve seen Higuruma in court before. You know his persona can overwhelm a courtroom easily with his confidence.

“I really appreciate that, Mr. Higuruma.” You drop his gaze, letting your eyes rest upon the floor as a small smile curled up on your lips.

“You can call me Hiromi when we’re not in class,” Higuruma said as he walked towards the door. He held his hand out for you to follow him. “Well, if you ever have any doubts about civil law, please let me be the first to know. I’d love to have you on the criminal law side.”

You follow beside him closely, and you feel a warmth rush your cheeks as Hiromi hovers his hand over the small of your back. He wasn’t exactly touching you, but you could feel him there — guiding you.

“I promise I’ll come to you first if I ever want to betray Mr. Nanami,” you laugh softly, but your mind is racing, wondering where he was guiding you.

Coincidentally enough, a tall muscular figure with blonde hair was walking towards you two in the hall. “Who’s betraying me?” Nanami asked as he walked closer towards you and Hiromi.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Nanami, Hiromi, and the girl who was standing beside Nanami. You took a moment, trying to place her here as a student, but you came up short.

“Stop trying to steal my students away from me,” Nanami lightheartedly scolded Hiromi with an eye roll.

“It’s not stealing if she decides to leave civil law on her own volition. I’m simply showing her the good side to law,” Hiromi responded. You feel your back arch a bit underneath his touch as his hand rested against your back now with more casualty.

“Ah yes, the good side. Also known as the side who gets troublemakers off the hook. Don’t forget, y/n. Civil law is all about holding people accountable. Criminal law is about being the least accountable,” Nanami said with a calm smile. Your eyes wandered towards Nanami’s hand, noticing it was also placed on the young woman’s back. What was going on here?

“Alright. That’s enough from you,” Hiromi warmly laughed. It was a laugh that put your nerves at ease. Still, your skin crawled where his hand was placed. Your mind flashed back to the club, remembering how it felt when Sukuna had his hand in that exact spot, guiding you to his office.

Sukuna’s touch oddly felt like a warm security blanket, while Hiromi’s touch felt like static electricity building. You knew you were about to get shocked.

“Miss Nanami, it’s always good to see you.” Hiromi bowed slightly with respect. You feel the weight of realization set in on you. That was Nanami’s wife who he was touching like that.

“You as well,” Nanami’s wife responded fondly.

“Alright. Let’s go, Destinee, before Hiromi also tries to indoctrinate you into some sort of criminal law degree.”

Hiromi merely laughed before guiding you away from Nanami and his wife. You felt your heart start to thud in your chest. Where was he leading you?

“You don’t have any other classes today, do you?” Hiromi asked as he looked to his side. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at you thanks to the size difference.

You bit your lip slightly out of nervous habit, wondering if you should lie to him. His hand felt heavy on your back, and a weird sensation of guilt was pooling in your stomach. You weren’t even exactly committed to Sukuna yet since you hadn’t signed whatever contract, but you two have a verbal agreement.

You had already begun to feel some sort of loyalty to the yakuza lord, and maybe that was because you knew he wouldn’t take seeing Hiromi’s hand on you lightly.

Still, you reminded yourself that your professor hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The hand on your back could be seen as a supportive touch. Perhaps he didn’t know how he was coming off right now.

“No, I was going to use the rest of today to write a paper for my economics class,” you say finally after a beat of silence.

“Aren’t you such a good student? Are you struggling in any of your classes?” he asked as he reached out and opened up the door for you. Your eyes blinked as you had to adjust to the afternoon sun beating down.

Maybe he was just walking with you out towards the parking lot. You quirked an eyebrow as you realized this was the staff parking lot though. Your dorm was in the complete opposite direction.

“Uh.. well, not really..” you replied sheepishly, trying to soothe your nerves. This just kept getting worse and worse by the second. “My lowest grade this semester is copyright law.”

“Mmph, yeah, that one is unnecessary tedious. You’ll rarely work on cases of copyright infringement,” Hiromi nodded thoughtfully. “Listen, I know it’s easy to get caught up with being a law student, so I was wanting to know if you wanted to grab a bite to eat together. We can chat about whatever you want whether it be about school or—“

A loud roar of an engine and tires squealing into the parking lot completely cut Hiromi off. You instinctively jumped back a little out of fear that the car was going to ram right into you.

A car that didn’t even look like it belonged on regular civilian streets came to halt right in front of where you and Hiromi were standing. The engine purred lowly as it sat idly in the parking lot.

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the car. No professor had the money to afford a Maserati GT2 Stradale.

Your eyes admired the car in front of you. In all of your time of living, you had never had the luxury of seeing such a car. It was completely blacked out, but in the direct sun, a subtle deep red tint shined through. It was flip painted. It was your saving grace — your prince charming. The license plate on the front read, R. SUKUNA.

The butterfly car door opened upwards, and you held your breath. You had never been more happy to see Sukuna in your life, yet you also felt confused. How did he get into the staff parking lot..? It was guarded by security.

Slowly, your future husband stepped out of the car, rolling up the sleeves to his black button-up top. Even while you were outside, Sukuna’s dominating presence filled the air.

“Can I help you, sir?” Higuruma asked, his face hardening at Sukuna. You wondered what he must be thinking about all this. Did Hiromi know about Sukuna’s status? He is a defense attorney, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.

“No, but she can,” Sukuna gave a feline grin as he held out his hand and curled his finger towards himself, beckoning for you to come with him.

You took a deep breath, knowing that you really couldn’t refuse Sukuna. Also, you didn’t want to know what getting dinner with Hiromi would lead to.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe a rain check?” you said as you gave a polite smile up towards your professor. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as he looked down at you.

As soon as you went to peel yourself from his side, Higuruma suddenly grasped your arm. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was firm enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“You can tell me if you don’t feel safe with him. You can give me some sort of nonverbal cue..” his voice was low enough for only you to hear. You were briefly taken aback by Hiromi’s kindness, but you also found it ironic how you felt less safe when it was just you and him.

“I’m fine.”

Sukuna watched interaction, and he cocked an eyebrow. He felt an unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. The thought of him untucking his gun from where it was concealed in his waistband crossed his mind briefly, but he decided against it quickly. It would cause too much of a scene. Too many variables.

“Hiromi Higuruma, is it?” Sukuna asked, but he already knew the answer. “The famous criminal defense attorney who spends his free time teaching other future aspiring attorneys. How kind of you.”

“That’s me. I’ll ask again. Can I help you?” Hiromi’s hand hadn’t unwrapped from your arm yet. His jaw was tight as his dark eyes looked at Sukuna with suspicion.

“You can start by letting go of my wife.” Sukuna said as he took a step closer. His hands were shoved in his pockets, giving off a confident display. You could see the curvature of his muscles bulging through his shirt as if he didn’t already look big enough.

Hiromi’s eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you. All of the admiration and praise had melted from his gaze. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. It was as if you had disappointed him in some form or capacity.

He silently let go of your arm, conceding in the battle with Sukuna over you. “Nonverbal cue,” he muttered to you, still cautious that you’re maybe being forced to do this.

Little does he know, you’re the one who proposed marriage to Sukuna.

You walked straight towards Sukuna, not daring to look back at Hiromi as you didn’t think you could handle the look on his face.

Sukuna immediately enveloped your smaller body in his arms, giving you a hug that could only be described as a hug that a husband gives his wife. He had to lean down to fully hold onto you. You shivered as his nose and lips just barely brushed against the crook of your neck.

Your arms could barely wrap around him, hugging him back to fulfill the facade of being a happy wife. Your face was tucked into his chest, and his cologne assaulted your nose. His scent was deep and heavy with notes of cedar wood, leather, and tobacco.

Despite this being a facade, it felt safe and secure. Nothing could touch you right now.

In all of his time of working with accused criminals, Hiromi had never felt true fear until Sukuna’s eyes met his while he looked over your shoulder. He could practically see the red hues of Sukuna’s eyes darken as he stared him down. Hiromi could feel Sukuna marking you as his territory. It felt like time stood still for everyone.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. I have reservations for us,” Sukuna’s dark gravely voice broke the silence, and Hiromi watched as Sukuna placed his hand on your hip, guiding you over to the passenger side seat. He opened the door for you and made sure you were settled before shutting you in.

Sukuna shot one last glare in Hiromi’s direction before he got into the driver’s side and sped off.

Hiromi let out a deep sigh. How did such a pretty young student like you get caught up in this? His fingers came up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled out his cellphone. He had to report this, even if it put you as risk.

It took several rings for the phone to pick up. “Yeah?”

“Gojo? Sukuna was just at the school. He was heading north.”

The other end of the line promptly went dead.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach

[tsunodaradio]

the thrill of the chase ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE, A MILESTONE EVENT 📀 somewhere in the rush of outlines, clerkship interviews, and caffeine-induced breakdowns, you forget to hate lando norris.

♫ starring: law students!lando x reader. ♫ word count: 3.3k. ♫ includes: romance, friendship. alternate universe: non-f1, alternate universe: law school. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. one-sided rivalry, feelings realization/denial, 3 + 1 fic -ish. @piastriprincess requested r u mine? by arctic monkeys. ♫ commentary box: a very, very late response to this request, and also a very late birthday gift. but we ball! i adore u so very dearly, lily; i hope u get a kick out of this one 💫 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Law school is supposed to be miserable. 

That’s what everyone says. You show up already bracing for it, spine rigid under three overpriced textbooks and a warped Hydro Flask. It’s only the first week and your eyes already burn from too many case summaries that all end in dissent. Your brain is fried. Your Stabilo highlighters are drying out. You think, dramatically, that your soul is too.

And then there’s Lando.

You meet him on day three, Contracts. He’s late. 

Like, five full minutes late, walking in as if this is a fucking café and not the carnage grounds of Section B. He wears a hoodie. He’s got sunglasses hanging from the collar and a pen stuck behind his ear, which you never see him use once throughout the class. He grins as he takes the last open seat beside you and says, with a British accent that makes three girls turn their heads, “Morning, love.”

You don’t look at him. You don’t dignify trust fund babies with eye contact.

Word spreads fast. His full name is Lando Norris, and his parents—or maybe it was his grandparents—donated a wing to the law library. Rumor has it he was accepted before his application even hit the portal. Someone swears they saw him get dropped off in a McLaren. Another person claims he doesn’t even need a JD; he’s just here for the ‘experience.’

You decide you hate him almost immediately. 

It’s not personal. It’s ideological. He represents everything you’re here to destroy: old money, soft hands, people who smile their way out of consequences.

He makes it easy for you. He calls the professor ‘mate,’ shows up without notes. He draws little race cars in the margins of his casebook. You see them once, a full page of doodles and only one underlined sentence: Consideration must be mutual.

And yet he never gets cold-called. Or when he does, he somehow pulls it off. He frowns thoughtfully, tilts his head, and gives a half-decent answer that makes your blood boil. Either he’s smarter than he lets on or he’s lucky as hell.

“He’s harmless,” your roommate says.

You don’t buy it. Harmless is a trick. Harmless is what people say about boys who have never had to sharpen themselves against anything.

By October, he knows your coffee order. By November, he says it like a joke: “Oat milk latte, no sugar, because you’re sweet enough already.” You glare. He winks. You consider transferring.

But you’re in too deep now. There are study groups. Shared outlines. The occasional late-night panic over Civil Procedure where you end up texting him for help and he actually replies. He’s infuriatingly decent in those moments. A little too sincere as if he’s not playing any game at all. You’re not convinced.

It gets worse when you’re paired together for a mock negotiation project. The professor calls your names together and something in your stomach sinks.

“Guess it’s fate,” Lando says with a lazy grin you want to smack off his face. “You and me, legal dream team.”

You sigh through your teeth. “God help us both.”

You’re walking out of class when he says it again, twirling a pen between his fingers. “So, are you mine?”

You know what he means. The project. The pairing. The assignment that's going to ruin your weekend. Still, it lands wrong. It lands sideways. You mutter, “Unfortunately.”

Lando blinks, caught off guard for half a second. Then he laughs. Bright and delighted, like your hostility is a gift he’s been dying to unwrap.

“God, you’re sharp,” he says. “I like it.”

You roll your eyes so hard it hurts. Something in your chest is already shifting, bracing.

Second year, and you stop expecting to drown.

You still choke sometimes—overdue readings, group projects that implode, cold calls that catch you in a daze. But you’ve grown gills. You know which professors demand citations and which just want opinions dressed in precedent. You highlight with purpose. Your backpack doesn’t give you shoulder pain anymore. You’ve adjusted.

What surprises you is that Lando has, too.

You expected him to drop out. Or transfer. Or realize here isn’t where he wants to be. Someone like Lando, who treats deadlines like loose suggestions and writes in loopy cursive like he’s signing autographs instead of briefs? He shouldn’t have made it past 1L. 

And yet he’s still here. Still in your section. Still floating just outside your line of vision like an inside joke the universe won’t explain.

You catch him sleeping in Torts. Not just dozing. Full-on, tilted head, mouth-open sleeping. The professor says nothing. When you glare, Lando shrugs like he can feel it. Like he knows.

“Up late prepping my oral argument,” he says later, unbothered. “Had to make sure my metaphors were air-tight.”

“It’s a legal argument, not a stand-up set.”

“Shame,” he says. “I had a great one about negligence and banana peels.”

You hate how often he makes you want to laugh.

By winter, you’ve stopped denying the rhythm of your rivalry. You anticipate his presence like a minefield, treat him like a fucking migraine. You look for his name on class rosters and feel a weird spike of something when it’s there. He drives you up the wall with the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he carries himself. He skates by with just enough effort to avoid disaster. The worst part: he keeps flirting.

With everyone, at first. Then with a select few. Then, eventually, mainly with you. 

He holds doors open with exaggerated bows. He calls you ‘counselor’ like you're both in a legal drama. He leaves doodles in your notebook when you’re not looking: a tiny judge banging a gavel. A cartoon of you glaring. A car with hearts for wheels.

You never say thank you. He never expects it. Sometimes you think he doesn’t even take you seriously. Like your rivalry is a solo act he’s accidentally wandered into.

But he remembers things. Your moot court topic. The fact that you hate peppermint. The specific way you line up your pens.

He offers to split his notes when you miss class with a fever. You take them, reluctantly. They’re annotated with tiny smiley faces, like you’re both still in middle school.

You don’t ask him why he hasn’t flunked out. You don’t ask him why he stays. You just keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for the moment he finally cracks, or quits, or gets bored of bothering you.

But he doesn’t.

It hits again during a study night in your block’s shared kitchen. There’s pizza grease on your notes and someone’s playing Arctic Monkeys too loud through a Bluetooth speaker. You’re explaining proximate cause to a bleary-eyed 1L when Lando strolls in, steals a breadstick off your plate, and plants himself beside you like he belongs there.

“Back off, Norris,” you grit out, not looking up from the poor soul in front of you who looks like they’re about to have a nervous breakdown.

Lando leans in anyway, elbow brushing yours. You hate that your skin notices.

“You mine tonight?” he says casually, flipping through your outline. The one the two of you made on Google Docs for days, arguing in comments and grappling with Suggestion Mode. “For the study group, I mean.”

The entire table of blockmates goes quiet in that grinning, knowing way. That’s another thing that ticks you off. People claiming you’re playing the field, that you’re acting hard to get. Lando is supposed to be irresistible, and yet—time and time again—you resist him.

Someone snorts. Another mutters, “Just admit you’re dating already.”

You give Lando the middle finger without missing a beat.

He bursts out laughing, delighted. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You go back to your notes, jaw clenched. The rivalry isn’t a game, not to you. But Lando’s always smiling like you’re the most fun puzzle he never meant to solve.

You don’t realize until much later—maybe months from now, maybe longer—that part of you flipped him off just to hear him laugh.

The years go by faster than you thought they would. Law school has a way of folding time. The first year stretches like taffy. Long, sticky, unbearable in places. But your second year moves quicker. Your third year hits like a freight train.

Somewhere in the rush of outlines, clerkship interviews, and caffeine-induced breakdowns, you forget to hate Lando Norris.

Not completely. He still gets under your skin. Still shows up late to lectures with a Jamba Juice in hand and a sleepy grin like the world bends just a little for him. But it stops being about irritation. Somewhere along the way, it just became how things are.

You crackle with him. That’s the word. Like static clinging to wool, like sparks leaping between wire tips. Never quite a fight, never quite a flirtation. Just tension, humming under your skin, winding tighter every time he calls you ‘counselor’ or bumps your shoulder with his. He’s still in your periphery. 

Third year is supposed to be easier, but you’re juggling everything. Final clinics, last electives, prep for the bar that looms like a guillotine. Your life shrinks into flashcards and study groups and long nights staring at outlines until the words blur.

Lando sticks around. Unchanged. Relentless. Infuriatingly consistent.

You catch him in the library one night, feet on the table, headphones in, mouthing something that definitely isn’t a legal doctrine. He pulls one earbud out when you walk past.

“Fancy seeing you here, star pupil. What’s the damage today? Constitutional crisis or caffeine overdose?” he teases, but his voice is light.

A concession. A white flag. He knows the type of week you’ve been having, knows satisfaction feels like a distant memory when you’re not the big fish in the pond anymore. 

You grunt. “Both.”

He smiles sympathetically. You hate how it lands.

You find yourselves sharing more and more space. Study tables. Elevator rides. The quiet corners of the library where no one goes unless they’re desperate or hiding. 

He doesn’t flirt as much now. Or maybe he does, and you’ve just stopped recognizing the difference between teasing and attention. It all blurs together under the fluorescent lighting.

Sometimes, you catch him watching you when he thinks you won’t notice. Sometimes, you let him.

You’re too busy to ask why it feels like something’s building. Too busy to admit the way he still makes your stomach tighten when he tosses you a highlighter like it’s an offering, or mutters an answer under his breath just before you do. Too busy to do anything about it.

But the pressure’s there. Always. Like the bar exam isn’t the only thing coming for you. Like Lando Norris is a deadline you’ve been dodging for years, and now there’s nowhere left to run.

Your fate is sealed on an inconsequential Friday night.

The kind that doesn’t need a reason, just the collective desperation of law students teetering on the edge of responsibility, clawing at the last scraps of their recklessness. Your friends text a location. You show up. Everyone is overdressed and under-slept, slurring bad jokes and clinging to drinks like lifelines.

The speakeasy is half aesthetic, half claustrophobic. Exposed brick. Bartenders in suspenders. A jazz band playing something neither ironic nor sincere. You down your second gin and tonic too quickly. It doesn’t burn. You wish it did.

Lando’s there, of course. You didn’t come together, but he finds you anyway. It’s inevitable, like gravity and hangovers and legal liability as a principle of substantive rather than procedural law.

He slides in beside you at the bar, smelling like something dark and expensive. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be unfair. You say nothing. He smiles like you did.

Your blockmates are scattered across booths and stools, bodies draped over each other like coats. There’s a girl asleep against her boyfriend’s shoulder. Two guys arguing about the difference between fraud and misrepresentation, voices rising with every syllable. You should care. You don’t.

Hours pass in fragments. Laughter. Another drink. Someone suggests shots. You lose track of whose idea anything was.

You end up outside.

The alley behind the speakeasy is slick with rain and shadow. You shouldn’t be here. You don't know who followed who out the back door, only that Lando is pressed against the cold bric, and you’re kissing him. He kisses you like he never expected he’d be allowed to.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s urgent, messy, tasting like lime and gin and whatever this thing between you has curdled into over three years.

His hands are on your waist. Yours are in his hair. Everything spins.

Your tongue traces his bottom lip—and then he pulls back. You hate that you instinctively lean forward, mouth chasing his. You hate that he tightens his grip at your hips, holding you back, staring you down with the watercolor eyes that have plagued your dreams. 

“Are you—” he’s breathing, but he doesn’t get to finish that question. You don’t let him.

You kiss him again. Harder. Stealing the words, the chance to make this mean something. You know what he wants to ask. You don’t want to answer. 

Are you mine?

Not tonight.

Tonight, you’re just drunk and young and unfinished. Tonight, you’re still allowed to be thoughtless. To make out with the guy who was a silver lining in the otherwise bleak, hectic rush of law education. 

Lando exhales into your mouth like he gets it. Like he’s not surprised. He kisses you, just kisses you, until you’re both breathless and dazed. There’s a lipstick mark on the collar of his polo shirt. He leaves an infinitesimal hickey just above your collarbone. 

Neither of you talk about that night again.

Not when he hands you a coffee the next morning like nothing happened. Not when your knees brush under a library table. Not when he looks at you like he remembers.

Because maybe you do, too.

By the time you graduate, you begrudgingly call Lando your friend.

You say it with a sigh. With an eye roll. With a jab to the ribs when he’s said something infuriatingly British or smug or both. But you say it.

And when he hears it, he lights up like someone handed him the sun. He wears the title like a tailored suit. You wish you hadn’t given it to him.

The night you two kissed sits in the space between you like a folded letter neither of you open. Not when you cross the stage in your rented gown, your name echoing through the auditorium while your blockmates cheer and Lando wolf-whistles. Not when everyone tells him to calm down, but he cheers and whoops like he fucking funded your education himself. 

Not when, afterwards, you introduce him to your parents with a diplomatic “This is the friend I was talking about. Lando.” Not when he shakes their hands with a grin and half-jokes, “I definitely could have been more than a friend.” 

Your blockmates scatter like dandelion seeds into internships and clerkships and private firms with names that sound like inheritance. Your days blur into outlines, footnotes, and caffeine.

Your bar prep books get heavier, and your spine curves around the weight of them. Life becomes dictated by outlines and mnemonics and a calendar that seems to laugh in your face.

You and Lando study together because neither of you say no. Because he’s persistent and you’re tired. Because it’s easier than being alone with your thoughts. Because it’s easier than being alone with him.

The rhythm becomes familiar. He brings you coffee without asking. You steal his highlighters. He hums under his breath when he reads, and you threaten to throw your CivPro book at him at least once a week.

The bar exam feels less like a milestone and more like a storm. A test you’ve been preparing for your whole life, and still aren’t ready for. Two days in a cavernous convention center with bad lighting and too much silence. You sit three rows apart. It might as well be miles.

You catch a glimpse of his profile once, and it calms you more than you’d admit.

Afterwards, you both look like you’ve aged five years. He makes some quip about suing the NCBE for emotional distress and irreparable damage to the soul. You want to laugh. You want to cry. You settle for stealing the muffin out of his hand, and he chases you down the sidewalk, screaming bloody murder.

Then the waiting begins.

It’s worse than the test. Purgatory with a deadline. Time stretches, bends in on itself. The 44% pass rate in your jurisdiction becomes a mantra and a curse. Every time you think about it, your stomach drops. You text Lando late at night, just question marks and anxiety. He replies with terrible memes and gentle reassurances.

When results go live, it’s early. Barely sunrise. Your stomach is lead. You meet Lando at a quiet café you both like, the one with chipped mugs and a broken sugar dispenser.

The city still feels half-asleep. Your fingers are cold. He’s already there, laptop open, waiting. You’re the only people there, which is both a blessing and a curse. 

You sit beside him, close enough to feel the heat off his arm. He looks at you.

“Ready?”

You shake your head. He smiles anyway. He checks first. Types in his ID number. You both watch the screen.

He passes.

“Lando!” 

You throw your arms around him without thinking. He melts into it like he’s been waiting all year, all four years, even, for this. His arms wrap around you, firm and grounding. He holds you like you matter. Like you’re his victory, too.

“Easy,” he chuckles, but he’s burying his face into the crook of your neck and breathing you in. 

Not easy. Not as easy as he might’ve liked. But he made it, he made it, and you—you feel pride. Something you never expected to feel for that infuriating boy late to Contracts. 

You pull back, a little shaken by how badly you needed that. Then it’s your turn.

You log in. Hands trembling. You miss a key. Type again. Lando doesn’t make any jokes or snide remarks about it. He keeps one hand on your shaking knee, his palm warm over your thigh.

The page loads.

You pass, too.

You barely whisper it, but it escapes you in a rush, disbelieving and stunned. Lando doesn’t wait for confirmation. He sees it on your face.

He’s on his feet in the next minute, swooping you up, but this time tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll float away. His chin rests on your shoulder, and you feel him laughing with relief into your hair.

And then, gently, he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Then another.

And another.

Like he can’t help it. Like you’re a prayer being answered. Your throat goes tight. You try to push him off, but it’s a feeble attempt; he keeps on showering you with the affection he’s held back for years and years. 

You stand there, caught in the kind of silence that says everything. Grinning and breathless. Changed. Gone are the days of misbehaving, of teetering near the deep end, of begging and borrowing for tonight and tomorrow. 

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” you murmur, voice muffled against his collar. “My on-call.”

He laughs, soft and bright before pulling back, just enough to look you in the eye. “Are you mine?”

No smirk. No teasing lilt. Just a question.

No, it’s the question, and it lands exactly where it has to. 

This time, you don’t dodge it. You don’t deflect. You meet his gaze, steady. Heart loud in your ears. 

“Yeah,” you say, “you got me, baby.” ⛐

[diamonddaze01]

tarararara my love! for your drabble game i wanna do prompt no. 6 but with a twist-

Do you like me? Check yes or yes

the ball is in your court now bub!

do you like me?

pairing: wonwoo x reader, law school au | wc: 944 prompt: "Do you like me? check yes or yes" | warnings: none a/n: dedicated to both @svtiddiess and @tusswrites bc the greatest minds think alike

The library was quieter than usual, the usual hum of stressed-out law students replaced by the rhythmic scratching of pens and flipping of pages. You and Jeon Wonwoo had somehow claimed a table near the window—a rare truce in the ongoing cold war of your academic rivalry.

You weren’t entirely sure how it started. Maybe it was the time he answered a question in Contracts class before you could, perfectly articulating the rule of consideration in a way that had the professor beaming. Or maybe it was the time you aced your Civil Procedure exam, and he shot you that unreadable glance as he exited the lecture hall, his graded paper tucked discreetly under his arm. Somewhere along the line, though, it became a thing: Jeon Wonwoo vs. You.

You were loud, unabashed, and utterly relentless in debates. Wonwoo? Quiet, methodical, and terrifyingly sharp. It was as though the universe had handpicked you to be polar opposites, with one mutual goal: finishing top of the class.

It wasn’t just about ego—though you’d never admit how much satisfaction you felt when you won. For you, being at the top meant proving that your voice mattered, that you could command a room even in the cutthroat world of law. For him, you suspected it was different. Wonwoo worked with a quiet precision that seemed to come from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. He was impossible to read, and maybe that’s what frustrated you the most.

The rivalry only grew fiercer with time: whispered debates in the hallway after class, stolen glances at each other’s grades, the occasional sarcastic jab when you passed in the library. It had become a fixture of your law school experience.

So why were you here, sitting across from him in the library? That was another story.

It started two weeks ago, when the Professor of Legal Ethics—who clearly took pleasure in student suffering—had paired you two for a moot court assignment. The project was simple: argue a mock case against each other, with grades determined by individual performance.

You’d scoffed at the announcement. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He’d glanced at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “Don’t sound too excited.”

The idea of working with him—of watching him meticulously dismantle your arguments before you even had a chance to deliver them—should have been unbearable. But instead, you’d found yourself suggesting, “We should prep together. You know, scope out the competition.”

Wonwoo had hesitated, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You’re offering to help me beat you?”

“Who said I’m helping you?” you’d shot back, grinning. “I just want to see if you’re as good as everyone says.”

Now here you were, begrudging study partners, buried under stacks of legal texts and sharing a tense but surprisingly comfortable silence. Except you couldn’t focus. Not because of the assignment—your case brief was flawless—but because of him.

Wonwoo, with his quiet determination, his maddening focus, and his infuriating ability to make your heart race with just a glance. You didn’t know when it started—when the rivalry began to feel less like competition and more like curiosity. When his sharp intelligence stopped annoying you and started fascinating you instead.

Maybe it was last week, when he had stayed late after your prep session, walking with you to the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights. The conversation had been light, easy—unexpectedly so. You’d caught him smiling, not his usual smirk but something softer, almost shy. It had lingered with you far longer than it should have.

Or maybe it was the other day, when you’d caught him lost in thought, glasses slipping down his nose as he scribbled something in the margins of his notebook. He had looked up at you then, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow in question. You had blurted something incoherent about “legal precedents” before burying your face in your notes, your cheeks burning.

You were doomed.

Tonight wasn’t any better. He was scribbling furiously in his textbook, his pen tapping softly against the edge of the page. You should have been working on your counterarguments, but instead, you were folding a piece of notebook paper into an origami crane.

After a few moments, you slid the crane across the table to him. Wonwoo didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in his notes, but when the crane nudged his hand, he paused. His sharp eyes flicked to yours, and you gave him your best innocent smile.

He carefully unfolded the crane. Inside, in your bold handwriting, were the words: “Do you like me? Check yes or yes.” Below, you’d drawn two boxes, both labeled “yes,” along with a winking face for good measure.

Wonwoo blinked at the note, his expression unreadable. But then, his ears turned a shade of red so deep you could practically hear your heart screaming.

You stared, waiting, your pulse thundering in your ears. And then, to your surprise, he smirked.

Pulling out his pen, he checked one of the boxes. Then, with deliberate care, he tore off the bottom half of the paper, scribbled something, and slid it back to you.

You unfolded it, your chest tight with anticipation. Written in his small, neat handwriting was: “Can you quiet down now? I’m trying to focus.” Below it, he’d drawn a tiny, lopsided heart.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but the pink flush creeping up his neck and the faint twitch of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

Somehow, the rivalry didn’t feel like a competition anymore.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[horchatakoo]

PERFECT WIFE | KSJ ONESHOT

Synopsis: Seokjin is on a mission in making you his perfect obedient little wife

Themes: yandere seokjin, manipulation, degradation, humiliation, power imbalance

word count: 1,479

You were at the top of your game, a rising star in the legal world, winning case after case and handling high-profile clients that others could only dream of.

It wasn’t just talent that got you there—it was hard work. Long nights spent studying case files, early mornings meeting clients, and weekends preparing airtight arguments.

And with just a little more effort, a few more wins, and you’d be unstoppable.

But success has its price...

The more you rose to the top, the more people whispered behind your back.

“She wouldn’t be here if not for the boss.”

“Seokjin is the only reason she’s winning.”

They said you only made it because of Kim Seokjin—the CEO of your law firm, your boss, and later, your boyfriend.

It wasn’t a complete lie.

From the moment you joined the firm, Seokjin had his eyes on you. He favored you over others, assigning you high-value cases that should have gone to those who came before you—those with more courtroom experience than a newbie like you.

And people weren’t so dumb as to not notice the special treatment he was giving you.

And so, they grew jealous.

But you knew better.

Yes, Seokjin helped, but you were the one putting in the work. You spent nights preparing, you handled the pressure, and you earned every victory. You refused to let anyone think you were just a product of his influence.

That’s why, when you and Seokjin got together, you made things clear: he wasn’t above you. You weren’t someone he could control. You made your own decisions, no matter how much he offered to help, no matter how disappointed he looked when you didn’t rely on him.

But time is unpredictable...

and it can easily change the course of your life in just a second.

The moment you married him, everything shifted. The confident, ambitious woman who once owned the courtroom became nothing more than a memory.

Perhaps it’s your karma for thinking that marrying Seokjin would be a stepping stone to greater achievements. Perhaps you became greedy—too intoxicated by the fame and influence your work had given you—until your once-calculating and cunning self fell right into Seokjin’s trap.

Your career? Gone. The office you once dominated had been replaced by the suffocating walls of your home.

You never wanted to quit your job. It was your passion, the career you had dreamed of since childhood. But Seokjin had his ways of making you leave.

Just as he built you up, he could just as easily tear you down.

It started with your court files being manipulated, leaving you unprepared and defenseless during trial hearings. Other lawyers laughed at you, mocking your incompetence—as if you had just proven them right, as if you were nothing more than an unqualified lawyer who had only climbed the ranks by linking up with a higher-up.

Then, one by one, your clients began backing out, claiming they were no longer satisfied with your work after the spectacle you had made during your recent hearings.

Of course, like any human being, you were hurt by the words thrown at you. It felt as if all your years of hard work had been reduced to nothing because of a few mistakes. As if no one respected you—or your title—anymore. And that broke you, to the point where you couldn’t even bring yourself to leave your room.

“Honey, perhaps taking a break would be a good thing,” said Seokjin, your ever-so-loving husband. And you listened, thinking that a few weeks off would help clear your mind, that it would give you the chance to refocus and regain your footing.

But when you returned to the firm two weeks later, nothing had changed. In fact, in your mind, things had only gotten worse. There were new interns, new employees, and new cases. The cases you thought you were still handling had been reassigned. It was as if time had moved on without you—and now, you were struggling to keep up.

"You've lost your spark, Y/N."

The words from your client echoed in your mind as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight.

How did it come to this? Was it fate playing a cruel game with you? Or was it the man sleeping soundly beside you—the one who had been slowly chipping away at you all along?

With every subtle push, every whispered doubt, he wore you down. Until one day, you broke. And willingly, you resigned and gave up your passion.

And now?

The woman who once stood tall in elegant suits, arguing before judges, was now kneeling on the cold floor, scrubbing it clean—naked, except for the apron Seokjin insisted you wear.

You became the very person you feared most—someone beneath your husband, someone who relied on him for everything. The sharp, brilliant mind you once had? Dull. Faded with time.

To outsiders, it might seem tragic, even depressing.

But to Seokjin? This was perfection.

You were exactly what he wanted—a compliant, obedient wife, always ready to serve him.

When you first quit your job at the law firm, you spent your days at home, lost in the emptiness of it all. But as time passed, Seokjin encouraged you to take on household chores. After all, wasn’t that what a housewife was supposed to do?

"But we can just hire maids, Jin. That way, I can find another job."

"Job? What job? Sweetheart, you're not even thinking straight right now. Why stress yourself when you can just enjoy being a housewife? Do some chores—it’ll be good for you."

You hesitated, feeling useless, like you weren’t capable of anything anymore. The thought alone made you ashamed. So you agreed. If you couldn't be a top lawyer, then you would be the best housewife Seokjin could ever have.

You cooked his meals, scrubbed the floors, did the laundry.

But that is still not enough for Seokjin.

One night, Seokjin handed you a neatly wrapped gift, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he placed it in your hands. The weight of the small box felt heavier than it should have, like something inside of you already knew what was coming.

"Go on, sweetheart. Open it," he urged, voice smooth, dripping with warmth.

With shaky fingers, you untied the ribbon, peeling back the delicate wrapping paper to reveal soft fabric. An apron.

You blinked, confused. "An apron?"

Seokjin chuckled, stepping behind you, his hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. His thumbs traced slow, soothing circles into your skin. "I had it custom-made just for you. Isn't it beautiful?"

You ran your fingers over the fabric. It was high-quality, soft—luxurious, even. Far too elegant for simple housework.

"It is, but... why?"

He let out a soft hum, as if thinking over his words carefully. "Because you deserve to feel beautiful while taking care of our home. While taking care of me." He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You do so much already, and I love that about you. But I think there's something missing."

You swallowed hard, your mind foggy, struggling to find the right words. "Missing?"

He turned you around to face him, his fingers lifting your chin so your dazed eyes met his. "You work so hard to be the perfect wife, don’t you? Cooking for me, cleaning, making sure I come home to the perfect little house. But I know it tires you out." His voice softened, comforting, like he was saying something that should have been obvious.

"Clothes are restrictive, aren't they? Uncomfortable. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just let them go?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You weren’t sure what to say, so he continued speaking, his voice dipping into something almost hypnotic.

"Why don’t you try it? You’d look so sexy in this," Seokjin murmured, his fingers already working on the buttons of your blouse from behind before you could even protest.

A startled breath left you, but you didn’t stop him. You never did.

In mere seconds, you were undressed, stripped of everything but the delicate apron draped over your front. The fabric barely covered your boobs, the ties hugging your waist, while you're bare at the back. Heat rushed to your face. You felt seen—exposed, despite the countless times he had already seen you bare. But this felt different. This wasn’t intimacy. This was humiliation.

Your hands twitched, instinctively wanting to cover yourself, but Seokjin caught them, holding them in place as his lips brushed against your temple.

"Don't be shy," he soothed, his voice dripping with amusement. "You look perfect. Just like this." "Let's document this as your first day of being my perfect, obedient wife, yeah?" Seokjin murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, as he opened his phone's camera "Smile for me Y/N"

[sanakiras]

BLOOM FOR ME. [TEASER]

PAIRING — finance major!mingyu x law major!reader

WORD COUNT — 1.4k

SYNOPSIS — even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.

TAGS — college au, slice of life, angst, strangers to fwb to lovers, fem!reader, minor use of the fake dating trope, mature content, inexpressive!reader

♪ — pearly drops - bloom for me

read the full fic here.

you and kim mingyu just don't work.

to be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who didn’t like him or get along with him. most people on campus either wanna be him or be with him — which makes sense, ‘cause he seems to have it all. he’s smart, talented, and awfully good-looking.

and in hindsight, you have no clue as to how or why you landed in his little clique a few months ago, which is composed of a bunch of guys who appear to have very little in common.

all you remember is how joshua, a pre-med student with a soft voice and a passion for playing guitar, introduced himself to you as you were both assigned to help out with student orientation week at the start of the new academic year, and the rest became history.

you’re not sure how he managed to wiggle his way into your personal life, or why he seems so goddamn keen to be there for that matter. the same goes for his friends — chan, seungcheol, soonyoung, minghao, seokmin and mingyu. you’re closest to joshua and seokmin, though you get along well with most of the group.

soonyoung is pursuing performing arts, and he’s loud — extremely loud. you like his sense of humor though. chan does theatre and has mentioned he wants to have his own dance studio later in life. seokmin also does theatre and is arguably the biggest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. cheol is a business administration major, a great debater, has quite the fire in him, and he looks great in a suit. minghao is more reserved — a psychology major. very sweet and polite, likes to meditate and is surprisingly good at martial arts as well.

and then there’s mingyu.

he studies finance, though he’s considerably less obnoxious than most of the students who pursue said degree. from what you’ve gathered, he has quite the range of talents, which, in all fairness, is pretty impressive.

the guy might as well be the complete opposite of you. he’s popular, loud, outgoing, smiles a lot, known to have a real heart of gold. an entertainer.

you find yourself at the other end of the spectrum. much more on the quiet side, usually only speaking up if you deem it necessary with a sarcastic quip, more often skipping social gatherings than actually attending them.

yet in spite of your closed-off nature, the majority of people closest to you are extroverted, always trying to pull you with them in their adventures, though remaining respectful and understanding when you don’t come with — because that’s just the way you are.

perhaps that’s the sole reason why your relationship with mingyu can easily be described in a single word.

non-existent.

neither of you have anything against each other — it’s just that, out of the group, you seem to have the least of a connection with him. you certainly never do anything together or talk to one another when you’re not with the rest of the guys, and even during the moments you are, saying you’ve had a proper conversation with him would be an overstatement.

for the most part, aside from saying one-worded greetings and goodbyes, you pretty much just disregard the other’s existence.

or, well — that used to be the case.

because there’s this dirty secret the friend group doesn’t know about — and that’s that you and mingyu slept together.

it happened only a few weeks ago. it was supposed to be a simple, fun night dancing and letting loose at soonyoung’s party, which he hosted right after midterms were over. everyone got drunk, including you — way more drunk than usual, it was terrible — and the only thing you remember is waking up in a room you’d never seen before, a bed that definitely didn’t feel like the one you wake up in every morning, your clothes discarded on the floor, and his warm body next to yours.

had you been even the slightest bit sober back then, you absolutely wouldn’t have gotten into bed with him.

it’s not that you don’t find him attractive. on the contrary. he’s sex on a stick, with his strong arms, small waist, sharp jawline and beautiful tan skin — it’s no surprise he’s done several modeling jobs for some extra cash.

but despite all of that, casual hook-ups with people in your circle are not your thing. they’re not his either.

neither of you remember much of that night. you two are rarely ever alone together, so it’s practically been impossible to talk to you about it, and you’ve never been close enough with one another to even text or meet up.

after the incident, you just continued living your life like everything was the same as before. honestly, for the most part, it was.

but mingyu likes to take risks in life. that, and being open about his feelings is just who he is. so he wants to talk to you, privately.

when he finally does manage to catch you alone, which happens to be right after you’ve walked out of your criminal law class, you’re not exactly welcoming to him.

“what are you doing at the other side of campus?” is all you greet him with.

“i’m good, thank you for asking.” he jokes in an attempt to make things more light-hearted, but you don’t pull a single muscle, face remaining the exact same, so he swallows and clutches the strap of his shoulder bag a little tighter. “i, uh... i felt like we should talk about what happened the other night. soonyoung’s party.”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“what we did. together.”

“we fucked. so what?”

oh. that’s a much more blunt response than he expected, even if he is used to those kind of remarks from you.

“well—” he cuts himself off, really cursing himself for not properly thinking of what to say to you before showing up outside of your lecture hall all of a sudden, “don’t you think it’s something we gotta discuss?”

“you want a professional analysis about how much i enjoyed it or something?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “not that i’d be able to give you one, considering it was all just a blur.”

“yeah, i can’t exactly remember much of it either. look, i... i don’t usually hook up with people i’m friends with—”

“except we’re not friends. i don’t think you’ve ever said as much to me as you have in this conversation.”

even though it’s true, it does feel like a slap across the face for a reason he can’t pinpoint. he’s aware you can be blunt sometimes, but this is more than people usually get out of you.

“fine. we’re just acquaintances. but we do share the same friends.” he says after a moment of awkward silence, his tone sounding a little colder than before, subconsciously trying to compensate for your unwelcoming attitude. “doesn’t that matter to you?”

sucking at the inside of your cheek, you sigh. “did your roommate notice me?”

his roommate being jeon wonwoo, the cute computer science major who likes to spend his free time working out and playing video games, always walking around campus with headphones stuck in his ears and a pair of glasses up on his nose. he and mingyu are both on the football team, you’re pretty sure.

“no. he didn’t see a thing. not as far as i know, anyway.”

“good. so that means we can both just pretend it never happened, yeah?” the smile you put on your face is so painfully fake that it makes him clench his jaw.

“yeah.” he mumbles bitterly, and you move away from him, going down the stairs, and mingyu rests his head against the wall, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment.

to be completely honest, he’s not sure why the whole ordeal bothers him so much. what you said was all true, even if you could’ve worded it differently.

many, many questions pop up in his mind. do you have something against him? do you not like him? if that’s the case, why? has he ever said something that caused you to get a bad impression of him? what do his friends have that he doesn’t, aside from considerably shorter legs?

he’s not sure what it is about you he finds so weirdly intriguing, but whatever it is, he’s discovered a fresh determination in him to find out.

read the full fic here. x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Platinum Jacket Vignette

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: This museum really has a ton of paintings. Not that I really know how to act in quiet places like this…

Deuce: Oh, but I can't use that as an excuse. I'll have to be a good supporter for the museum, just like any honor student would!

???: Is this dome… a teapot cover? Why would the Card Soldiers be carrying tea?

Deuce: Huh, you don't know, Sebek? Cool, then I'll tell you about it.

Deuce: This painting shows a scene of a trial from one of the Queen of Hearts' legends…

Deuce: And those Card Soldiers aren't actually carrying tea, but a witness for the case: a tiny mouse!

Sebek: Hmph, what's with that smug look? Well, fine, never thought there'd be a day that you'd have something to teach me, I suppose.

Deuce: Heheh. I'm a supporter for the museum, so it makes sense that I can explain something like that.

Deuce: Since I'm a student of Heartslabyul, I made sure to study extra hard all the tales related to the Queen of Hearts or her Card Soldiers.

Sebek: Is that so? Still, did it require two of them to transport a single small mouse?

Deuce: According to the story, it was a crucial witness, so they wanted to make sure it got to the Queen safely.

Deuce: Ah, that reminds me… We had something similar to this painting go down at Heartslabyul just the other day.

Deuce: Though, it wasn't a witness that was getting brought in…

Sebek: What, was there some lout breaking the Queen of Hearts' laws?

Deuce: Yeah. There was this one student who'd been breaking the rules over and over again, and he was finally being brought before Rosehearts-ryōchō for a stern reprimand…

Deuce: When the two guys tasked with hauling him in came to bring him to the Housewarden, that rule-breaker ran.

Sebek: Why do you even have people tasked with hauling others in…? You folk in Heartslabyul have far too many strange duties and rules!

Sebek: But that transgressor is also a coward, fearing reprimand and fleeing without taking responsibility for their actions.

Deuce: Right? He made his bed, he's gotta lie in it.

Sebek: Judging by your manner of speech there, am I right to assume that you helped to secure that transgressor?

Deuce: Yeah. I ran after the guy and caught him in a flash.

Deuce: Not like I've been training my legs or working on quick, explosive power in my sprints while in the Track and Field Club for nothing!

Sebek: Oho, so you captured them. And what were those two that were supposed to have brought him in doing?

Deuce: The guys on duty were apparently so shocked when the rule-breaker ran away that they couldn't move quick enough.

Deuce: But once I brought him back to them, they firmly took hold of him on both sides and brought him to the Housewarden, though.

Sebek: I see. So perhaps the reason why it isn't considered overkill to have two people on duty for such a thing is in case something unexpected occurs.

Deuce: Maybe…? I guess so.

Deuce: Ah, but listen to this. After he finished reprimanding the rule-breaker, Rosehearts-ryōchō praised me for a job well done.

Deuce: "Not only did you capture the transgressor without a moment's delay, but you showed good judgement in allowing the students on duty to do their job as assigned," he said!

Sebek: True, normally you'd do something brash like bringing that offending student directly to Riddle-senpai after capturing him.

Sebek: An unusually calm and mature judgement, coming from you.

Deuce: Hey, nothing "unusual" about it! It's not strange that I was able to think that through.

Deuce: Because, I'm on my way to becoming an honor student!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: Oh, this painting… It looks as though it's based on the legend that speaking a wish into a well would make it come true.

Deuce: Yeah, so if you make a wish into a well, it sends your voice back out. I remember that well, 'cause I always thought that was odd.

Sebek: It's merely an echo. What is so odd about that?

Deuce: Huh, an echo?

Sebek: You didn't even know that? I'm speaking of the phenomenon in which sound bounces off of water or walls and is reflected back.

Deuce: Huh… Oh, so is that the same sort of thing as when sounds reverberate in a tunnel?

Sebek: That's right, as tunnels are also primed for echoes.

Deuce: Oh, okay… That actually brings back memories.

Deuce: Whenever I'd be riding through long tunnels, I'd put the pedal to the metal and rev it up so loud.

Sebek: You'd rev what? Are you talking about some kind of music?

Deuce: No, no. I'm talking about a blastcycle, not any instruments or whatever.

Deuce: The engine can make different sounds based on the body of the blastcycle, or even from the way it's ridden.

Deuce: It can make heavy thumping sounds, or low, rolling sounds…

Deuce: And it can be really fun to change up my driving style just to hear those different sounds.

Deuce: Whenever I ended up alongside another driver who knew how to make their own engine sing,

Deuce: It was easy to just end up competing to see who could make their engine rev louder.

Sebek: And what is so fun about that? It just seems to be a cacophony of noise, based on what you're saying.

Deuce: YOU DON'T GET IT AT ALL! It's great because I can feel it to my core.

Deuce: And, it feels sooooo amazing to feel the vibration of the engine echoing off the tunnel walls!

Deuce: AND PICKING UP SPEED IS THE BEST PART!

Deuce: The faster I go, the higher the pitch of the engine…the more that sound echoes in the tunnels…

Deuce: By the end of it all, the only sound I can hear is the blastcycle engine… I just can't get enough of that feeling!

Sebek: Shh, Deuce. You're being too loud, lower your voice. You're going to bother everyone else trying to enjoy the silence.

Deuce: Ah, sorry… Actually, kinda feels weird to get told by you of all people to lower my voice.

Sebek: Why is that? I don’t raise my voice like that unnecessarily.

Deuce: Eh… You seriously saying that right now?

Sebek: Obviously. At any rate, I don't really understand what you were saying about those blastcycles, but…

Sebek: You shouldn't cause a ruckus while riding, unlike what you did just now.

Deuce: Well, obviously I try to ride so I don't bother others on the road… At least, now I do…

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: Oh hey, it's the Lord of the Underworld. I like how brave he looks flying through the sky in this painting.

Deuce: And on top of it all… He's way too cool, rushing to the front lines like that to save his captured comrades!

Sebek: Right. The Lord of the Underworld must have been a truly capable fellow, able to take on even the most difficult missions by himself.

Sebek: One would require proper deliberation and competency to achieve positive results.

Deuce: Urgh… That hits a sore spot…

Sebek: A sore spot…? Ah, you are talking about what happened last week.

Sebek: I remember seeing you, Grim, [Yuu]… and Ace, if I recall. It was while I was heading back from flight class.

Sebek: All four of you were standing like idiots in the hallway, being scolded by Trein-sensei.

Deuce: URGH!!!! You saw that!?

Deuce: I-I didn't plan on it ending with us getting in trouble! It wasn't supposed to end like that…

Sebek: I'm sure it is a ridiculous story… But why not, I'll listen to whatever excuses you come up with.

Deuce: At the start of History of Magic class, Trein-sensei told [Yuu] to read out loud a passage from the textbook.

Deuce: But that page was completely ruined by drool, since Grim fell asleep on it the night before, so it was impossible to read.

Deuce: So, I raised my hand, offering to read it instead.

Sebek: So why did that end up with you all being sent out to the hallway?

Deuce: …I forg… …xtboo…

Sebek: I can't hear you, speak up.

Deuce: I… I'M SAYING I FORGOT THE NECESSARY TEXTBOOK!!!!

Sebek: So you tried to step up, even though you didn't have the textbook… You're a fool who has gone beyond help.

Deuce: Ace was saying something like that, too. Both him and Grim were laughing at me for that.

Deuce: Even though it was really Grim's fault in the first place!!

Deuce: [Yuu] even pointed that out to them, but they wouldn't stop, so…

Deuce: We ended up arguing… Which then got us sent out into the hallway before long to deal with the consequences of our actions.

Sebek: So that's why you were in the hallway. However, I don't understand. Why did you do such an unnecessary thing?

Sebek: Even if Grim or [Yuu] were to be reprimanded, that has nothing to do with you.

Deuce: Nothing to do with me? Come on, there's no way I can let my friends flounder like that.

Deuce: I mean, Grim aside… [Yuu]'s helped me out a ton before, so.

Sebek: Hmph. Then I guess at the very least, next time you should act after you've determined whether you have your textbook or not.

[Sebek walks off]

Deuce: YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE!

Deuce: Geez, and he walks off after one last parting shot, huh… Ugh. Guess I'll try to shake off this funk by checking out some of the other exhibits.

Deuce: Oh, this is a painting of a girl singing with flowers. She looks like she's having fun, but according to the story…

Deuce: If I remember correctly, she was described as vulgar, rude, and weedy...

Deuce: Doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, everyone has to follow the rules. Not a shocker to me that those who can't follow 'em end up in sticky situations.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[burningembers91]

Inside the Mind of a Killer - Kwon Seok-Joo x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Resigned to a life behind bars for avenging his daughter's murder, Kwon Seok-Joo reigns supreme among his fellow inmates. When a beautiful new psychologist arrives, offering talking therapies to prisoners, Seok-Joo can't resist toying with you. Who will come out on top in a battle of wits? And could his little game turn into something more?

Kwon Seok-Joo had resigned himself long ago to the fact that he would spend the rest of his life in prison. He didn’t mind being incarcerated, the regimented monotony a welcome break from the stresses of modern life. He didn’t regret what he’d done; hadn’t lost a second of sleep over the crime that had landed him a life sentence. In his eyes, it was justified retribution. His young daughter had been cruelly snatched away by a man who had no regard for her life, so why should Seok-Joo have had any regard for his? He was more than happy to pay the price for his crime; in his eyes, he’d only done what was right.

Seok-Joo was a model inmate. He never caused trouble, in fact, he regularly dispelled fights between other prisoners. He ran classes, teaching fellow inmates an array of subjects and helping them work towards qualifications. He was friendly with the guards, offering them legal advice in exchange for a few extra privileges. For all intents and purposes, life on the inside was good.

Being friendly with the guards meant Seok-Joo was always kept abreast of goings on around the prison. He knew everything there was to know about everyone and everything inside the concrete walls. Being so knowledgeable gave him the upper hand, made him stand out on top; in prison, Seok-Joo was King. He was revered by the guards, beloved by his fellow inmates and respect meant more the wealth or power on the inside. Every time a detective or shrink stepped through the door, Seok-Joo knew. He had no time for law enforcement, had no respect for the people who couldn’t catch the man who had killed his daughter. To him, police were the scum of the earth, and psychologists were no better. He’d been ordered to see one when he was first arrested, forced to spill his inner most secrets to a stranger with a notepad and a condescending look plastered to their face. He’d been made out to be crazy, a man who had lost control of his senses, but Seok-Joo had never been saner when he’d plunged the knife into his daughter’s killer.

He'd heard about the therapist who had been assigned to the prison, offering their services to anyone who needed to talk. Seok-Joo had no intention of seeing the latest in a line of failed shrinks, all the previous ones scared off by the monstrous beings who stalked the halls. He was content to sit in his cell, reading, studying and helping his fellow inmates. But then he heard the chatter, heard the glowing reviews about the woman who could placate even the toughest prisoners. Week after week, inmates lined up to see the therapist who could soothe their troubled souls. Seok-Joo heard so many things about you, that finally he decided he had to see for himself just how good this new shrink was.

You’d heard of Kwon Seok-Joo, had followed his court case with bated breath. There had been many a research paper published on the man who took the law into his own hands, and he had fascinated you. You were surprised to see him sat in front of you, his disdain for therapists widely known. His tall, broad frame took up space in the small room, a small smile on his handsome faced as he lounged comfortably on the leather armchair. He was just as cocky as you’d expected, just as self-assured and charismatic as you’d heard. This was a game to Seok-Joo, you realised, simply something to fill his long days and feed his sense of grandeur. Unfortunately for him, you were excellent at your job; your ability to get into the minds of the most heinous killers had catapulted you to fame within the world of psychology. Of course, you fully expected Seok-Joo to know this, knew that he would have done his research before you sat down together.

“What brings you here today?” You asked, matching his relaxed posture and tone. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he smiled, taking you in. He could certainly see why the other inmates were so enamoured with you; you were beautiful, stunningly so, and had a calming presence that even he couldn’t deny. He’d done his research on you, had uncovered all your secrets. There was nothing about you that Seok-Joo didn’t know, and he was going to enjoy getting under your skin.

You both stared each other down, the two of you so acutely aware of how the other would try to play the game. “And?” you finally asked, putting your pen and pad to the side. “Was I worth leaving your cell for?” Seok-Joo chuckled, a deep, low sound that reverberated off the base of your skull. “I think I’ll need a few more sessions to decide,” he said quietly.

This was a game neither of you wanted to lose, and Seok-Joo couldn’t wait to start playing.

[dobbie-doo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOU HAVE ENTERED TEYVAT ꒱ ˎˊ˗ you got into teyvat

what is life like for a Descended from our world in this hell ? ?

✧ warnings —fem !! reader, nothing. Just mentioning survival..butchering ?? ✧ a/n — ..this is not a fic with a char x reader.. I wrote this so that some ppl, would understand that if they really got into teyvat, all their fav characters would not fall in love with them at once lol. I tried to write everything as naturalistically as possible..NO I FORGOT ABOUT PHONES !!

Actually, I just wanted to speculate - I forgot to mention phones and such, but oh well.

I really think that life in Teyvat for a Descended from our world would be just hellish torture - yes, of course, you will get used to it, but that will be after the adaptation period. I would like to travel around Teyvat, but in reality, most likely, I would sit in the city and be paranoid about going out for the time being.. You cursed those moments when you dreamed of getting to Teyvat and starting dating some Zhong Li, Al-Haytham or Diluc (God forbid)

Life turned out to be no fairy tale and you had to achieve everything yourself, without parents or friends by your side. Yes, your little companion (your choice) was with you, but it was more of a pleasant addition, so as not to go crazy from loneliness.

You knew a lot and it was very hard to remain silent when Kaeya or Jean explained to you the things that you had learned long ago. It was because you did everything automatically and without explanations that many smart people began to suspect you - Rosaria, Kaeya and Diluc among them, and that already means a lot. Sometimes you are afraid to trust, because you know how they treat you.

Even if you tried to hide it, believe me, sooner or later you will say something unnecessary. And only the Archons know how others will react to the fact that you know the history of the kingdom of Sal Vindagnir or Kaenri'ah.

This is why you train too often to become stronger, dreaming of reaching the level of deities - perhaps from the outside you will seem like a fanatic, but you are so afraid not to live, but to survive in this world. Even if you are a super-lazy person, Teyvat will bring you down to earth (in the literal sense of the word).

In order to earn at least something, you did not immediately go on an adventure - you are calmer if at least a few mora coins are in your pocket in case of something. Lisa and traveler helped you find a job and from the moment you appeared in Teyvat, you not only diligently studied the language, writing and their rules, but also worked. Mostly, this was work in Diluc's tavern or looking after cattle, sometimes you babysat children and carried out various unofficial assignments. At that time, you did not have the vision, and your powers were at the level of an ordinary person, so you could not join the guild yet.

At first, guards were assigned to you, or Kaeya himself, being free, would go outside of Mondstadt with you. It was awkward that you were being coddled like that, but you understood that it was necessary - any Hilichurl or even a slime could beat you. You still remember how one of the last ones burned you badly while picking mushrooms…

And don't think that you were an important person in a good way - the Slimes don't show up in Teyvat every day, who knows what you're capable of…

At first, when kind old lady wjo name Inga took you in, you cried at night, biting your lips and covering your mouth with your hands so that the old woman wouldn't hear. And only your sweet companion was a witness to your hysterics. You were so homesick and yearned for the important person who had been stolen by an unseen force.

Yes, Teyvat was really beautiful - picturesque views, simpler people, especially in Mondstadt and Sumeru, interesting situations and adventures every day, but… Home is more important. You were happy, but more upset. This is not how you imagined being in a time warp - not knowing the language, laws, an unknown future, danger at every corner…

Time passed differently than in the game - the Traveler with Paimon often visited your friends, and the events of Liyue were just starting to unfold. That's how you met, even receiving some help. And from that moment on, the hostility between Paimon and your companion began..

So, hard work began to harden you and you approached Diluc with a request to teach you defense. Raghwingd hesitated a little, but agreed, although there were difficulties with his busy schedule. When Diluc could not attend training, he asked Noelle or Amber to help you, and if things were not going well at all, then any other knight.

Days of hard training, receiving the vision during an attack by a crowd of Hilichurls and Mitachurls helped you get back on your feet. You even began to understand a little what people wanted to talk to you about (before that, your little Campanion served as a translator and diplomat) and learned to formulate complete sentences. Writing was lame, but you did it, there was no limit to your happiness!

You still cried at night…

Gradually, you began to get out of the city on your own and could even use your skills and strength in the fight against Mitachurls and Hilichurls! even with treasure thieves.. But you had to be not so sad at the sight of a dead person whom you killed with your own hands.

So, you set off on a journey.

Survival in the wild was a living hell for you and not as easy as it seemed at first glance - dangerous animals, monsters and weather conditions almost knocked you down. You carried out assignments and simultaneously investigated how you could have gotten into your world. And when progress began, you became a full-fledged traveler.

You made many acquaintances, but that's not what we're talking about now.

You were often afraid to fight monsters, and when there were situations when you helped the Traveler defeat stronger creatures… You gradually began to get scars, but this served as a reminder that although you ended up in a fairy tale, this fairy tale is dangerous and cruel.

You had to work hard to become quite a famous traveler in all of Teyvat, and you even had the honor of traveling with Lumine/Aether!!

By the way, some characters, although you know their history, repel you with their actions - now you understand that these are not just beautiful pictures, but living people with their vices and their own cockroaches in their heads. For example, at your first meeting with Scaramouche - he wanted to get rid of you by setting his Fatui agents on you, he was cruel, more cunning than in the game. And the same Tartaglia, on the one hand, you liked spending time with his brother and with him, but on the other hand, he is the harbinger of Fatui, and who knows what is on his mind.

You found a lot of treasures that you ran to sell - from there you get money for normal food (although you are used to cooking on a fire), an overnight stay in a hotel and some rest (your companion mumbles when every time you visit Inazuma, you rush to the hot springs). But you are not always so lucky, so sometimes you enjoy fruits and hunt (which, by the way, most likely ends with your stomach rumbling with hunger).

By the way, you don't just get meat from boars, did you know? Butcher the carcass.

You have to have connections, the most useful of which are like Bei Dou and Ningguang (although you'll have to do something outstanding for Li Yue to pay attention). BeiDou, for example, can take you to Inazuma for a small amount of mora, or for free if you're on a closer relationship.

How many times were you nearly killed by lightning on Seirai Island? How many times did your sweet (no) companion freak out and pull you half-dead out of dangerous situations? I can't count them, really.

The Wanderer taught you to write much better at the request of the Nahida - you got along well with these two, surprisingly. Although you had some skirmishes with the wanderer recently… And he's not a very patient teacher. Should I remind you how many times he scolded you and hit you on the back of the head like a guilty child? Damn it! Why not tignari?..

Once (who are you telling - almost no one believes and laughs) you even spent the night with the Hilichurls. They are warm, by the way. You were very lucky that you came across a friendly tribe, although it was hard to fall asleep because of the fear of being strangled in your sleep.

In general, for many people, including those well known to us as Jean, Diluc, the traveler, Tartaglia, Tignari, the Wanderer and many others, you are strange - you can always blurt out something eccentric, swear and so on. Many even, especially Cyno,Itto, Sethos.. Kaeya Tartaglia and Hu tao like your ridiculous jokes from your world.. But in many ways, whether it's a mask or not, you behave friendly and playful - it's much easier not to see the vices of this world.

But sometimes you still cry at night..

@crimsoncandy04 @anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @hitomisuzuya

[iam-stargirl]

Success story

I will be writing what happened before and the problems I faced in the 3d up until it happened just in case it might help someone. If you don’t want to read it then you can go down to where I write the success story, it will be in bold and pink! :)

I’m currently studying four courses and lately… I have not done one single thing that I should when it comes to my studies. I’ve been procrastinating like crazy, which then makes me feel anxious and stressed and because of that I procrastinate more and the cycle continues. I had missed the deadline by almost a month… If you don’t send in your assignments in time and it’s been a month after the deadline, you will no longer be able to continue with the courses. Then you have to apply yet again to start from the beginning again! 

I thought to myself that I need to fix this since it’s important, and by not doing it is making me feel worse. I then asked my teacher when I could book my oral exam and they told me that I had to apply to extend the course. I absolutely did not want that as it would interfere with a lot of stuff and make things worse for me in many ways. Did I still apply for it? Yes… They reached out pretty quickly and they told me it wouldn’t be possible. I shouldn’t have been surprised as I wasn’t exactly persisting in the favourable or living in the end at all, I was just thinking of the worst case scenarios.

Then I decided to send an email asking if they could give me more time (a week or so) to finish the assignments. After that I just decided that it was done, that it already happened. It was like a flip inside of me, from anxious to calm, just by deciding. It just happened.

Whenever i thought about this i would affirm. And yes sometimes when it would pop up I would start to worry and doubt if it even would be possible. I thought they would tell me that since the courses couldn’t be extended, they wouldn’t be able to give me more time for the assignments. But I would redirect and affirm that it was done. 

Many hours later I decide to go on my computer to see if any of my teachers said anything else/more but then I saw that all the red marks for being late with the assignments were gone and I got a little more time. I was like ??? So I checked my email to see their answer and I hadn’t received anything from them, I was so confused. I made sure to check everywhere just in case but I still found nothing. They hadn’t answered yet which they always do after they extend the deadlines. Then I realized that I had somehow manifested getting more time by myself ???

I still don’t know how it happened because “it shouldn’t have been able to happen” or whatever. But then I realized how stubborn I was and kept deciding that it was done. Even though I want and need more time I’m still gonna count this as a success story and I will keep persisting until I get exactly what I want.

Sorry if this is a mess and hard to read!!! I didn’t sleep much last night so my head is like ??? And I’m still a little shocked at how I did it and how it even happened since the ones I emailed are the only ones “capable” of doing it, not even my teachers can for some reason. I already believed in the law but I realized that I didn’t believe or have faith in myself when it comes to “bigger” things. But also.. I shouldn’t be shocked because imagination is truly the real reality and if you persist you will get what you want !!! and it's only "big" and “harder” to manifest because you assume it is 💅🏻 

So learn from me, I sure as hell will! Believe in yourself, you're literally the one in control. Everyone and everything is you pushed out. You can do this !! 🩷

Stargirl

[octuscle]

Hey chronivac suppot. I got the app about a week ago, around the same time my targeted ads started recommending me custom wrestling singlets and gym shorts. I didn’t know why I would be getting these ads, but because it happened around the time I got the app I thought maybe it was connected. I haven’t even opened the app before I checked the ad settings, so I know I haven’t made any changes… but for some reason chronivac has permission to alter my browser history and recommend ads based on randomly assigned presets? Not gonna lie, I have been thinking about stocking up on some wrestling gear…

Gah, what am I saying? Can you help fix this problem? Thanks!

This is another one of those somewhat complicated cases. Although it is actually disabled by default, your app had "Allow Bluetooth communication with other users" set at least shortly after activation. And one of the users was obviously the coach of the wrestling team. And he gave you a preset over Bluetooth. I know Coach Wilson pretty well. We had a one-on-one training session once… Shit, I hope I still have his number somewhere, I wouldn't mind repeating that… But that doesn't belong here. Although Coach Wilson does have one hell of a hot ass. Anyway, you obviously, intentionally or accidentally, accepted and activated the preset.

Did you have any stress with any of the team beforehand? Or with Coach Wilson himself? Normally he only uses the setting when someone has made fun of one of his lads or of wrestling as a sport in general. In any case, the ads for wrestling gear are just the beginning. Haven't you noticed that you have posters of wrestlers hanging in your study? Or that you follow half the wrestling team on Instagram? And they follow you? And that you get a boner when you see the commercials. Fuck, now just try out how it feels to put on a singlet! Where to get one? Look in your closet, you stupid idiot!

When you get home, you want to call the police first. It doesn't necessarily look like someone broke in. But it looks like a bomb has gone off. Actually, you are a model of order and cleanliness. But the kitchen is full of dirty dishes. There are half-empty and empty cans of protein powder everywhere. It smells a bit like a locker room. You're about to go into your dressing room to see if there really is a singlet in your closet when Chuck yells at you to knock. Damn, where did you get the crazy idea that you had your own dressing room. The apartment has five rooms, which you share with three of your fellow students who are on the wrestling team with you. Wait, you've been out of university for a long time, you're a junior partner in a law firm. This is your apartment. You're about to go into your study and call the police from there when you see the sock on the doorknob. Hehehe, Mike managed to get the hot guy from the lacrosse team to come over.

Dude, your head is spinning. You go to your bedroom. Yeah, that's right, this is your room. Whew! It smells like a cougar cage. The bed is not made yet. You take the pillow and press it against your face. Fuck, you can still smell Coach Wilson's sweat. You can only hope that the other lads haven't noticed that Coach has been fucking you to the hilt. But they were still celebrating the tournament victory yesterday, Coach was long gone when the lads got home. Only his singlet he left here. Fuck, the stench is just brimming with masculinity. Sure, Coach is a size bigger than you, but you just have to try the singlet on.

Fuck, Coach's singlet fits you like a glove. You directly add some of your own to the stains from his precum. You can't help it, you have to jerk off here and now. You just manage to press one of the hankies from the floor to your cock before you cum the load into the singlet. Just at that moment your door flies open. Chuck probably doesn't knock in revenge for your " invasion" either. He stands grinning in the doorway with his gym bag and asks why you didn't ask him for help. He would have had time for a little wrestling and jerking off. But now you have to hurry, training is about to start. And Coach Wilson will show no mercy if you're late.

Fuck, then you have to go work out in Coach's singlet. It's a little small for you, but it'll do. You just quickly put on a tracksuit and hit the road with Chuck. Because if there's one thing you don't want, it's to fall out of favor with Coach.

Implementation inspired by a suggestion from @nexo-cuffs88 and by the hot picture of @wrestlingdominations

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Six: Green Genes

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Several days had passed until Thursday finally came around and, to you, it seemed as though, for the past few days, Cillian tried to make a point to be seen by you with Siobhan.  It felt as if each time you set foot in the school building, there they were - sitting in the same corner spot, hands intertwined on top of the table. He was always sending mixed signals in class, sneaking glances at you as if bursting with secrets – secret encounters, conversations, stolen kisses; whereas, afterwards, he was always quick to walk by Siobhan's side.

Watching him kiss her goodbye and whisper sweet nothings into her ear fueled your innate jealousy – fueling a burning sensation in your chest, an anger that pricked at the back of your neck.

The sensations, admittedly, were concerning – confusing even, because this wasn't the type of feeling you expected to experience. You felt disgusted at the thought of being so attached to, possessive of someone who, only a week ago, knew little more than your first name.

Yet here you were – fixated on these particular glimpses of the boy, each slightly more intimate than the last and, by the time he entered the lecture room for his tutoring session, you were almost vibrating with apprehension and the desperate need to sort through your tangled emotions.

Silence enveloped the room as you awaited the arrival of your student, and each second stretched into an eternity, further fraying your nerves. When you finally heard light footsteps coming from the hall outside, you glanced up to meet a pair of deep-blue eyes that pierced right through you, paralyzing your breath within your lungs.

"Hey,"  Cillian murmured, resting his knapsack onto his chair and directing an intense gaze toward you; a gaze that seemed to ignite a fire in the pit of your stomach.

"You are late ," you replied, your voice thicker than intended, and glanced back at your notes, attempting to ignore the flush spreading across your cheeks and the rapid beating of your own heart.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," Cillian's husky voice reverberated through the almost-empty room, and you couldn't help but notice how flushed his forehead remained.

"It's fine ," you sighed and averted your gaze, your thoughts ensnared between the apparent sexual tension between you and the of frustration building up within you. This boy was your student, and you were his professor, yet the boundary between teacher and pupil had grown thin.

As you glanced at Cillian, your eyes met his, and the sheer intensity in them evoked something within you-an urge to explore their depths until quenched, to satisfy your hunger.

"Now tell me, did you do the prescribed reading for the cases I have given you?" you asked coolly, trying to mask your tumultuous feelings. Cillian hesitated, shuffling his documents awkwardly.

"Well, most of it," he confessed, averting his gaze. "There was just so much material, and I had some assignments to prioritize," he added defensively.

Your irritation grew. Not only could you not fathom the idea of succumbing to this boy's sweet temptation, but you also resented his most recent lackadaisical attitude towards your class.

"You had assignments to prioritize?" you heard yourself repeat, incredulous. "Cillian, if I didn't know any better, I would assume that you are not taking this course seriously anymore after what happened between us. You haven't engaged in class all week and now-, " you began to say just as Cillian interrupted you. 

Cillian looked up, startled. "No, I am taking it seriously Y/N," he assured you, inadvertently calling you by his first name. "It's just that-well-there's a lot going on right now. Personal stuff, you know."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You mean you have a girlfriend now, so your studies are less important?" you asked, unable to fully conceal the jealousy in your voice and this was something Cillian picked up on right away.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

The words hung in the air, and you felt your face grow hot. "Of course not," you lied, trying to remain calm and collected. "I'm just, you know, never mind," you stammered, and Cillian looked at you skeptically, as if he could sense the lie behind your words. 

"So you are not jealous of me dating Siobhan?" he questioned you further, biting his lower lip playfully. His tone was flirtatious, baiting you towards losing your composure and giving away your true feelings.

However, your years of experience as a lawyer had taught you how to navigate delicate situations without losing your edge. Therefore, you responded to Cillian calmly, remaining composed.

"No Cillian, I am not jealous of your girlfriend. I am just concerned that your personal affairs will compromise your academic performance," you said plainly, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled quietly, seemingly amused by your response. "Alright , if you say so." His voice carried an undertone of skepticism, and the way he looked at you made it clear that he didn't quite believe you.

Cillian let the topic drop, and the rest of the tutoring session went smoothly, with the two of you discussing legal concepts and case studies. Yet, even as you delved into complex intellectual discussions, you couldn't help but feel a persistent burn of jealousy in the back of your mind.

You pushed that pang of jealousy aside once more , focusing on the topic at hand.

Finally, the tutoring session ended, and Cillian packed up his belongings, offering a small, cryptic smile as he left the room.

That smirk ignited a spark in your mind, causing you to question his motives and intentions. But Cillian had left already, and you had no choice but to bury your thoughts for the time being.

***

The following day, after work, you were invited to meet up with a gathering of colleagues for drinks - the type of event you generally avoided. You disliked the cliquish environment and superficial banter. Still, tonight you found yourself agreeing to join them. Perhaps, you subconsciously sought some form of distraction; which always seemed in short supply recently.

The topics discussed over drinks however were far from interesting for you. Thus, after having listened to their recounts of court victories, academia bragging and tedious office gossip, you decided that it was best to step outside and call it a night.

The cold abruptly slammed against your skin, but the crisp air felt invigorating as you pulled out your Nokia to call a taxi home just as, out of the blue, you received a text message from your best friend Emma who was looking to catch up later that evening.

"Two for one drinks at Soho. Live Music. 9pm." was all Emma's message read, and although the idea of more socializing sounded exhausting, you also knew that a couple of drinks with your best friend might be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things.

You sent a quick reply and made your way to the small little bar in Cork where, much to your surprise, there was quite a crowd of young students.

"What is going on here?" you asked Emma who stood there, by the door, already nursing a drink.

"Some band's last gig, I think. Although, from what I have heard, they haven't played together for months,"  Emma shrugged her shoulders, gesturing towards the stage where a group of young musicians were setting up their equipment.

You glanced at them curiously and, sure enough, you spotted a familiar face on stage.

"Oh Jesus," you muttered under your breath, recognizing one of the guitarists and vocalists as none other than Cillian, his eyes closed tightly in concentration as he tuned his guitar.

Emma cast you a puzzled glance, suspicion forming in the furrow of her brow. "Do you know them?" she asked, and you hesitated, struggling with how to explain your connection to Cillian without divulging the drama that had unfurled between you two.

"Um, sort of. One of them is a student of mine," you finally settled on, which was technically true.

"Which one?" Emma's interest was piqued, and she looked over towards the stage with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

"The one on the guitar, wearing a black t-shirt. His name is Cillian," you answered, feeling a bit self-conscious as you said his name out loud. 

"He's quite a good-looking kid,"  Emma remarked and you cringed at the fact that your best friend had just referred to the man you slept with as if he was a child.

Before you could protest however, the band began to play, and Cillian's voice rang out, strong and melodic. You couldn't help but watch him, his movements fluid and graceful as he strummed the guitar, his lips curving into a soft smile as he sang.

He seemed to enjoy the stage and had a presence there which not many people possessed. 

"He sure is talented," you murmured to yourself , impressed by his abilities and, luckily for you, Emma did not hear you above the music this time.

The sound was electric, and the crowd moved closer to the stage as Cillian and his band continued playing. Their energy was captivating, filling the room with an intoxicating mix of anticipation and excitement. The night grew young, and the alcohol coursed through your veins, making it harder to resist the sway of his voice, your body moving instinctively along with the rhythm which is when you and Emma made some rather drunk acquaintances.

Emma, in her natural charismatic state, struck up a conversation with two young men – both of whom appeared quite taken with her charms, and as you observed them interact, you found yourself unable to help but feel ever-so slightly pleased by the notion. Not because you despised Emma nor her company, but rather because it provided you with a welcome reprieve from the uncomfortable thoughts and feelings that had been consuming you for the past few days.

One of the men, named Jason, started talking to you, complimenting you. He was tall, blonde and handsome, and under normal circumstances, you would find him attractive. But somehow, your mind kept wandering back to Cillian on stage, his instrument in his hands, and the way the music flowed from him as if it was an extension of himself.

Jason noticed your distracted behavior and leaned in, whispering suggestive comments in your ear. The alcohol in your system made you feel bold, and you entertained the idea of going home with him, using it as a way to distract yourself from Cillian. But you also knew to be better than that. This was not your style and, much to your dislike and discomfort, when the music came to an end, the blonde stranger made a move on you.

He leaned in, invading your personal space and wrapping an arm around your waist in a possessive manner, attempting to plant a kiss on your lips. However, you quickly pushed him away, exclaiming, "No, thank you," as you gathered your bearings, removing the stranger's arm from your waist.

Your actions caught the attention of several patrons, but the stranger seemed unfazed, continuing to proposition you. 

"She said no, dude," Emma intervened firmly, placing a hand on the man's chest and, even though the admirer took Emma's message as a warning, he still refused to relent.

"Oh come on , don't be like that," he persisted, his words slurring together as he continued to advance towards you, expecting a different answer from you this time.

"Listen, I am really not interested , okay? So just please leave me alone." Your voice was firm and clear, despite the hint of irritation seeping through, and you couldn't help but notice Cillian observing the scene from the stage, concern etched onto his face.

He had spotted you just moments earlier when you drew some unwanted attention towards you, arguing with the stranger and it was now that, for the stranger,  in rejection stung and, in an attempt to regain control, the man grabbed your arm, pulling you in close. "Come on. Just give me a chance," he hissed, leering down at you.

But before he could pull you any closer, a sudden flurry of movement caught everyone's attention: Cillian, having jumped off the stage, strode purposefully towards you with a determined look on his face.

In one swift motion, he pried the stranger's hand off of you, pushing him roughly away. "Back off, man!" Cillian snarled, protectively placing himself between you and the aggressor.  "She doesn't want you to touch her!" he told the much older man  , whose eyes widened in shock as he looked at Cillian with disbelief.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what she wants?" the man sneered, puffing his chest out as if he was trying to assert his dominance over Cillian.

Cillian's gaze did not waver, and he held his ground, standing protectively in front of me. "That's none of your business,"  he retorted, his voice low and firm. "Just leave her alone and find someone else to bother."

The stranger's face contorted in anger, and he took a threatening step forward and, without warning, leashed out at Cillian with his fist, hitting his face.

"Oh my god!" you and Emma gasped at the same time, but Cillian didn't budge. Instead, he clenched his jaw and threw a punch back, hitting the stranger's nose. 

"Stop it," you yelled, trying to pull the stranger away from Cillian as the two continued to tussle, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar as they watched the scene unfold before them. Emma, trying to act as a voice of reason, pleaded with the stranger as well, to which he just thrown a dismissive glower and puffed up his chest in defiance.

Cillian's nose was bleeding and the stranger's jaw was turning blue already as, finally, the security guard intervened .

"Hey! Hey! That's enough!" The bouncer loudly shouted, stepping between the two men, and separating them. "Break it up, now! BOTH of you, outta here!"

With the fight broken up, Cillian retreated to your side, his eyes locked on yours, but you couldn't hold his gaze for long. The adrenaline was wearing off, and embarrassment flooding through you, having caused such a scene.

"God, I am so sorry," Cillian apologized, concern evident in his voice.

"Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" he gently reached out to touch your cheek, and you flinched at his touch, a silent reminder of the events that just transpired.

"I'm fine, Cillian," you assured him while Emma handed you a pile of napkins. "But you are not. Your nose is bleeding," you pointed out, concern lacing your voice as you stared at the blood trickling down his face.

"Oh, that's nothing new," he waved off your concerns, trying to downplay the severity of his injury. "It's been broken a couple of times before," he winked, revealing the slight grin, and you couldn't help but stare at cheerful expression of a person who had just been engaged in a physical altercation, and yet stood there, as charming as ever.

"Come on, let me clean this up for you," you told him firmly, leading him to the bathroom, despite the lingering embarrassment trickling from your every pore and, despite all that had transpired, Emma couldn't help but chuckle.  

The bar's washroom was tiny, hidden late at night like this, most booths were occupied - users smoking in secrecy or friends freshening up after a drink or even two. It smelled of sweat and cheap perfume, and the harsh light cast shadows across the grimy mirrors.

But despite its poor condition, the sink was thankfully empty as you wet a handful of paper towels, pressing them against Cillian's wound.

"We are in the girls' toilet Y/N," Cillian stated as his blue eyes smiled at you.

This instructive observation did very little to pacify the raging tempest that subsumed your senses as you looked back at him. "No shit, Sherlock," you retorted sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "Now hold still," you  ordered, pressing the makeshift compress gently against the bridge of his nose.

Cillian complied, scrutinizing you closely beneath the dim light of the bathroom's fixture as you attended to his wound. Despite the tense situation, a certain warmth spread throughout your core, reciprocated on his end as his gaze deepened and softened.

"You shouldn't have intervened," you found yourself whispering to your student, clinching the napkins more rigorously over his injury lest the emotion stuck in your throat escaped audibly.

Dismissing your words, Cillian gestured carelessly with his free hand as he reassured you, "But I couldn't just stand there and do nothing," he said as regret clouded his features, and the gravity of the consequences of his impulse weighed upon his conscience.

"Well, thank you,"  you finally offered him, grudgingly, as you finished tending to his injury. The sincerity in his deep blue eyes forced down your prim hostility. "I really am grateful for what you did." However, you still struggled with the irrational, nagging feeling of embarrassment that remained lodged in your throat, gripping you and refusing to let go, unwilling to exhale the frustrations which consistently surfaces whenever you were near Cillian.

The atmosphere inside the small, dimly lit bathroom had undoubtedly changed and, if it wasn't for Cillian's brother Paddy barging in unexpectedly to check in on the two of you, you may have gotten sidetracked by the young man that insisted on ignoring the unspoken boundaries between professors and students.

"Come on Cills. Time to go. The bouncer wants you out of here," Paddy said, looking between Cillian and you. There was a stern expression on his face, and his glare led you to believe that any argument from either Cillian or you would go ignored.

A bit reluctantly, you both nodded your agreement before, with careful treads, you made your way back towards your friends - Emma appearing absolutely mesmerized.

"Holy crap. I can't believe what just happened," Emma exclaimed, eyes wide with astonishment and, as she remained quiet, which was something that Emma rarely did, you finally allowed the tension to seep from your body, feeling your posture start to relax, and the weight of the past few hours lifting.

"Is he okay?" she eventually asked while Cillian and Paddy sneaked out, waving at you contently. 

"Yes, I don't think his nose is broken," you told her and she laughed a little, that surprising tinkling sound that came unexpectedly.

"What a crazy night. But honestly, I'm glad I got to witness it," she concluded and her line of sight moved back to Cillian who just left. She then raised her brows at you, obviously intrigued by your young and mysterious protector.

"He seems to really care about you, Y/N. And he probably has a little crush on you too," she murmured thoughtfully, watching him disappear into the crowd.

"Don't be silly, Em. He is just a student. Nothing more , nothing less," you replied dismissively, taking a large sip of your drink.

Despite your words, Emma shot you a knowing look, her eyes gleaming with mischief and suspicion. "Sure, if you say so," she said with a wink.

"Anyways, let's get going. I think we've had enough excitement for one night," you suggested, eager to end the conversation and avoid further speculation about your relationship with Cillian.

***

Meanwhile, as Paddy drove him and his brother home, Paddy too ought to address the elephant in the room.  "So, you wanna tell me what's going on between you and that woman at the pub?" Paddy asked, peering at Cillian from the driver's seat.

Cillian sighed deeply, running his fingers through his unruly locks. His clenched fists squeezed the denim of his jeans, drawing his knuckles white. "I have no frigging clue what you are talking about, Pad," he admitted truthfully. "She's my law school professor, and that's it."

However, as Cillian defended himself, Paddy only raised an eyebrow at his older brother, doubting the legitimacy of his claims.

Paddy turned onto their street, pulling the car up to their modest home and switching off the engines while continuing their conversation. "Cills, you and I both know that's never 'it' with you. Every woman you show interest in turns into a complicated fucking mess and you are clearly interested in her. So, I'll ask again. What's going on with you and this particular woman?" Paddy questioned seriously.

Cillian remained silent for a few moments, staring out the window into the darkness beyond. He knew his brother was right, as much as he despised admitting it. 

"I don't know, Pad," Cillian finally replied, turning his gaze back to his brother. "We kinda hooked up once and things just got complicated now," he trailed off, leaving the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Paddy raised his eyebrows, surprised by the revelation. "Wow, okay," he said, pausing for a moment to let the news settle. "You actually slept with your fucking teacher?" Paddy finally burst out, incredulously. "I mean, she is super hot, but Jesus man. You do realize that's a whole piss pot of trouble, right?"

Cillian frowned. "Of course, I know that, Pad," he replied, sinking lower in his seat. "But it was the best sex I've ever had and I really fucking like her, you know ? I can't help it."

Paddy shook his head, letting out a low whistle. "Fuck bro , I don't even know what to say to that," he admitted, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Look, I'm gonna level with you here, Cills. I know you've been struggling lately, and I think you need to focus on your future. Getting involved with your teacher isn't going to help with that."

Cillian sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "I know, I know," he agreed. "But it's not that simple, Pad. I don't even want to be at fucking law school. I hate it and she just makes it a little more interesting," Cillian admitted to his brother , feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of disappointing his family.

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