#Phd as a working professional jobs

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PhD for Working Professionals: A Comprehensive Guide

Pursuing a PhD is a significant academic and professional milestone, often associated with research, academic, and an in-depth contribution to a specialized field. PhD for working professionals, embarking on a PhD journey comes with its unique challenges and opportunities. This guide explores how working professionals can successfully integrate doctoral studies into their lives, highlighting benefits, strategies, and options tailored to their circumstances.

Why Pursue a PhD as a Working Professional?

Career Advancement: A PhD can open doors to leadership roles, academic positions, or specialized career opportunities in research and development.

Skill Enhancement: Doctoral studies refine critical thinking, problem-solving, and analytical skills that are invaluable in professional environments.

Passion for Knowledge: Many professionals pursue a PhD to delve deeper into a subject they are passionate about, contributing new insights to their field.

Increased Credibility: Holding a PhD can enhance your professional reputation, especially in industries where advanced expertise is valued.

Challenges Faced by Working Professionals

Time Management: Balancing work responsibilities with the demanding requirements of a PhD program is often the most significant hurdle.

Financial Constraints: Tuition fees and research expenses can be daunting, especially without employer support.

Work-Life Balance: Managing professional, academic, and personal responsibilities can be stressful.

Access to Resources: Limited access to university resources like libraries and labs can slow research progress.

How to Choose the Right PhD Program

Flexible Scheduling: Look for programs offering part-time, online, or hybrid options that allow you to continue working while studying.

Relevance to Career: Choose a research topic that aligns with your professional goals to ensure immediate applicability.

Accredited Institutions: Ensure the program is accredited and recognized in your industry or field.

Support Systems: Consider programs with robust support structures, including academic advisors, peer networks, and access to resources.

Strategies for Success

Set Clear Goals: Define what you want to achieve with your PhD, both academically and professionally.

Time Management: Use tools like calendars, task managers, and prioritization techniques to balance your commitments effectively.

Leverage Employer Support: Discuss potential sponsorships, flexible working arrangements, or sabbaticals with your employer.

Build a Support Network: Connect with peers, mentors, and academic advisors who can guide and motivate you throughout your journey.

Stay Consistent: Dedicate specific hours each week to your research and writing to maintain steady progress.

Financial Assistance Options

Employer Sponsorship: Many companies provide financial support for employees pursuing higher education, especially if the research aligns with business objectives.

Scholarships and Grants: Explore scholarships specifically designed for working professionals or part-time students.

Teaching or Research Assistantships: Some programs offer part-time roles that provide financial support and academic experience.

Government and Private Funding: Look for grants and loans tailored for doctoral students.

Top Fields for PhD Programs for Professionals

Business Administration: Ideal for professionals aiming for executive roles or academic positions in business schools.

Engineering: Suited for those in technical roles seeking to innovate or specialize further.

Healthcare and Medicine: Focused on advanced research in medical science, public health, or healthcare management.

Education: Perfect for educators aiming to influence curriculum development or take on leadership roles.

Technology and Data Science: For professionals in IT, AI, or data analytics, a PhD can lead to groundbreaking innovations.

Success Stories

Many working professionals have successfully completed their PhDs while maintaining their careers. For instance, Dr. Sarah Thompson, a software engineer, pursued her PhD in artificial intelligence part-time, contributing groundbreaking research to her company’s AI projects. Similarly, Dr. Rajesh Kumar, a healthcare administrator, used his doctoral research to implement effective patient management systems, earning him a promotion to a national leadership role.

Conclusion

A PhD for working professionals in India is a challenging but rewarding endeavor. With careful planning, the right program, and robust support systems, you can achieve your academic and professional aspirations without sacrificing your career or personal life. Whether you aim to advance in your current role, shift to academia, or contribute new knowledge to your field, a PhD could be the transformative step you’re looking for.

[starlightkyeom]

building blocks | yjh

(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)

pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to loveres | fluff, minor angst, attempt at humor, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 19.7k (idk what to say atp) warnings: mentions of eating and drinking, jeonghan briefly drives a motorcycle, they're both engineering students but i don't claim to know engineering, the angst is minor because there's some miscommunication smut warnings: lots of kissing, hand job, fingering, slight voyeurism? (jeonghan watches reader finger herself), kind of loser!jeonghan, missionary sex, nothing really crazy all things considered

a/n: this is for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰 also thank you to everyone that helped me brainstorm along the way @ugh-yoongi @haologram @highvern and of course to @wqnwoos for letting me borrow her name.

note 2: this isn’t proofread. i had something come up irl and wanted to get it posted, so i’m sorry for any errors! i’ll come back to it next week when i have a minute.

(tag list at the end)

Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe. 

Except…

You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You managed to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your PhD, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.

Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineering branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your final semester. It’s hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.

Whatever.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that. 

So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go. 

When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out, though.

“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.

It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.

“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.

“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk. 

“What did you say your name was?” you ask.

“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.

You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on. 

“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.

“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”

Nothing else grabs your attention during the remainder of the introductions. Several students volunteer what they’re hoping to get out of the program. One brave student says she’s heard that Professor Choi is tough before asking for your opinion. Although you give a neutral answer, you make a note to speak to her privately to address her (very valid) concerns. 

When it comes time for you to return to speaking about the rest of the semester, you expect Jeonghan to interrupt in some way. He gives the impression of someone that likes causing a little bit of chaos or bringing attention to himself. Instead, he simply listens, notes something down occasionally, and gazes at you so intently that you nearly feel yourself flush. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look like some kind of model, though. You catch yourself looking at him more than once when other students are sharing answers. His nearly black hair falls in longer layers around his face, not quite reaching his collar in the back. There’s something almost delicate about his nose, about all of his face, really. His features are soft in a sort of beautiful way. It’s only when he catches you looking that you shake any consideration of his features from your mind. 

Once there’s only a few minutes left, you dismiss the class with a reminder that your email is beneath Professor Choi’s on the syllabus and you’re always around to help them. This class, you share, can be daunting and you’re here to help them get through it in one piece. That part comes out genuine because you do mean it. None of these students are to blame for the position you’re in. It’s not their fault that they have a TA that doesn’t really want to be in the position. So, you’re not going to make them suffer. You’re going to help them just as the TA for your class helped you. You make a note to reach out to him and ask for some advice.

Jeonghan’s eyes linger on you as the other students get out of their seats and begin talking, mostly about what they’re most excited for in the coming semester. You have to break first and look down to collect some papers from the desk. It also helps to remind yourself this is the same student who said he joined the class because he likes Legos. Ridiculous. When you look back up at the class, you’re half expecting to see his attention is still on you. It’s not. He’s joined a few classmates and is leaving the room without a backward glance. 

Legos, you remind yourself, and return to gathering your things. 

The one good thing about all this is that it’s an evening course, designed for people that have to work during the day. When the class is over, you get to go straight home to eat dinner and meld into the couch with your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend. 

You: i’m tired, want me to pick up food on the way home?

Bestie boo: i already called in an order from that one place you like so you can pick it up on the way home 

You: wow who are you and what have you done with my best friend?

Bestie boo: i didn’t pay for it

You let out a snort because that’s exactly the friend you know and love. He has to cover up ordering your favorite food from your favorite restaurant, which is sweet, by reminding you he’s still a giant pain in the ass. The gesture is enough for you to ignore it and just let him have this win. Maybe you’re off your game, but you’re a little tired.

“You should watch where you’re going.” 

The comment nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Sure, you scare easily as it is. But it’s worse when the voice comes out of seemingly nowhere. Of course it’s Jeonghan from your class, leaning against the wall just outside the building. His eyes glint at your reaction, like he’s enjoying it. Maybe he is. A second later, he pushes off from the wall to come closer. 

“And you shouldn’t scare people like that,” you retort when your heart slows a bit. He’s looking at you conspiratorially. “Did you have a question from the class?” 

“No,” he answers easily. 

“So…” you start. 

“Do you memorize the faces of all your students so quickly?” he wonders, continuing when you give him an odd look. “Or am I special?” 

“You made an impression,” you say neutrally.

“A positive one?” he presses.

“I didn’t say that,” you counter.

“But, still, you remembered me. Unless you learn all your students' faces before class as TA duties,” he says.

You sigh and decide to give him a partial truth, one that’s less likely to bite you than admitting his face is one of the only ones you remember. “I haven’t been a TA before so I don’t have a manual for how I’m going to approach it.” 

“Happy I get to be your first, then,” he says and turns to walk away. He turns back over his shoulder with a wicked smile and calls, “see you next class!” 

Your mind is preoccupied all the way to the restaurant to pick up the food and all the way back to your apartment. It’s only been one day of class and you can already feel that this student is going to be a menace. Worse than that, he seems like he knows he’s getting under your skin and wants to press it even further. Realistically, you just have to get through any of the classes that you lead. Otherwise, he’ll be the professor’s issue. 

Seungkwan is waiting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone when you walk into the living room, takeout containers in hand. It’s relatively familiar, though you know that he also likes to be out whenever he can. A perpetual social butterfly. 

“Today was already fucking annoying,” you moan when you set the boxes down and flop onto the couch.

Seungkwan gives you a sympathetic look. “At least you’re one step closer to getting what you need from that idiot.”

You’re confused for a moment because you hadn’t been thinking of Professor Choi at all. “Oh, yeah, no. I wasn’t talking about Choi.” 

“What was the issue then?” Seungkwan asks as he leans forward to get his food.

“There’s this guy in the class and I don’t know. I can’t figure him out,” you offer. “He’s so annoying. Like who signs up for a structural engineering class just because he likes building Legos? And that smirk. Ugh. I hate him.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Seungkwan quips. 

“Fuck off, I do,” you double down. 

“What’s he look like? Is he cute?” he wonders.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

“No. You answered anyway,” Seungkwan says with a grin.

“Fine, yes he is attractive because for some reason I’ve been cursed. Why do all you annoying people in my life also have to be hot?” you whine, casting a look at your roommate.

“Did you just call me hot?” he barks through a laugh. 

“Fuck off, just pick a show. It’s your turn,” you say with a push on his arm. 

You make it through the first few classes as a TA without much to report. Jeonghan tries your patience, but there’s not much he can do during the class and he doesn’t linger afterwards. That’s usually when Professor Choi wants to debrief on the course material and make sure the next class is ready. The class is also just starting to get into the real material and away from the foundational information. 

But, now the course is well and truly underway, which means you have to announce that you’ll be starting to hold your own office hours every week. Of course, Choi also has office hours and students could take advantage of those. Probably would, if not for the fact that he encourages the class to go to you first to try and resolve anything. Something about how he’s very busy and that’s why he has a TA. It’s exhausting and just another obstacle in getting what you need. 

After getting feedback from the class, you decide to set two different times for office hours, one during the late afternoon and one during the early evening to accommodate schedules. A few students show up right at the start of your first office hours session with similar concerns. So, you invite them in and start to work through a few practice problems to illustrate the point that they’re struggling to understand. It’s actually surprisingly easy to work in this way. You would never admit it to Professor Choi, but it’s actually kind of enjoyable. There’s value in helping someone understand a difficult concept. It’s also really rewarding to watch the comprehension dawn on the faces around you as each of them seems to grasp what you’re saying. 

Honestly, you can’t imagine your first office hours going any better when you’re already an hour into it and you’ve been working with the same three students. Of course, just as they’re gathering their things to head out, feeling more confident than when they showed up, Jeonghan appears in the doorway. He doesn’t even say anything at first, just looks around at the other students. They seem oblivious to what’s happening around them.

“Thanks again,” one student says as he’s standing up.

Another student catches sight of Jeonghan and she smiles. “Oh, sorry Jeonghan. We didn’t know you were having trouble with any of the concepts or we would have asked you to join us.” 

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “I was busy until just now anyway.” 

“Do you all feel confident with the topics? Or would you like to stay and go over something now that Jeonghan is here?” you ask, trying not to appear hopeful. (And failing at that pretty miserably.)

“Oh no, we’re definitely set. And we had plans,” the first student says with a look over at Jeonghan.

The three of them exchange goodbyes with Jeonghan and head out, allowing Jeonghan to close the door behind them before plopping into a seat at the table in your office. He’s directly across from you, which makes it hard to avoid his eyes. When you do meet his eye, though, he’s got a sneaky, all-knowing look on his face. You don’t like the loot of it one bit.

“What’s with the look?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” he retorts quickly.

“You’re making a face,” you say.

“Are you saying you don’t like my face?” Jeonghan asks, pretending to be offended. 

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” you ask to switch tactics. 

“These are your office hours. I’m here to ask questions about the material,” he says. 

“You don’t need any help with the material so far. I’ve graded your problem sets and the answers have been perfect,” you admit. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he muses. 

“I’m not answering that. It brings me back to my question, though. If you don’t need help, why are you here?” you press.

“Why does it seem like you don’t like me?” he asks.

“I don’t have any feelings about you either way,” you deflect.

“Now, that’s not true,” he disagrees. 

“You’re determined to get under my skin,” you say, half as a joke. 

“Determined to figure you out,” he corrects. “It doesn’t seem like you’re all that excited about being a TA.”

“That’s because I was forced into it,” you blurt out and immediately clap a hand over your mouth. That’s the last thing you meant to say. “I didn’t mean…”

“Now we’re getting somewhere in this relationship,” he says, sitting back into his seat with a satisfied smile. 

You heave another heavy sigh, a common occurrence around this man. “Why are you so determined to figure me out? Why do you care how I feel about you?”

“Because everyone seems to like me right off the bat,” he says. 

“I can see why,” you deadpan. 

“So can I stay? Or do you have very important things to do?” he asks.

“It’s my office hours, so I’m here to help students until the two hours are up,” you admit.

“Perfect.”

The next few times that you hold office hours feature Jeonghan showing up for the second half. It seems deliberate that he doesn’t show up right when they start, especially because you always have at least one other student in your office. If there’s another student there, he joins in to ask questions along with whoever else is there. When it’s just him, his questions are much more personal. It’s obvious that he wants to know you. Know your likes and dislikes, know the things that make you tick, know who you are when you’re not at school. Seems very convinced that the version of you outside the walls of the engineering building is very different from the one he sees. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to realize that he’s slowly getting more and more of a peek into who you really are. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring up your slip about being forced into being a TA. 

It doesn’t make it any easier to be around him.

It should. You should be able to get used to his particular brand of torture. Yet, with each new piece of information you learn, you unlock even more questions. It’s like you can’t ever really figure him out. Or maybe that he doesn’t want you to. He’s very careful to give vague answers about the serious things, while he goes on and on about the things that don’t matter. He’ll spend a solid five minutes talking about the latest Lego he’s building, but then breeze past the few questions you ask about him personally. It usually includes some sort of quip about how he’s wearing you down and how you clearly want to know him better. 

“Bet you thought you were escaping me today,” a voice says, startling you out of your thoughts. 

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you look up to glare at the intruder. 

“No, Yoon Jeonghan. I can see the confusion, though,” he says and you sigh heavily. 

“Office hours are almost over,” you point out. 

“Not for 20 more minutes,” he counters. 

“Right, but I was in the middle of grading something,” you say, indicating the design plans in front of you. He glances over at them.

“Hm,” he says.

“What, Jeonghan?” you ask with exasperation.

“Just doesn’t look like mine is all,” he says and plops into the chair across from you.

“Well obviously,” you say. “Can’t exactly grade your project with you sitting here.” 

For some reason, that makes him break out into a wicked grin. “So you aren’t grading my assignment because you were hoping I’d show up.” 

Ah, yes. Now you see your mistake. Should have definitely seen that coming, too. “You’ve come to every other session. I wasn’t hoping you’d show up again, but it was a fair assumption that you might.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he says placatingly.  “D’you have a question?” you ask. The tension headache you associate with Jeonghan’s presence in your life is threatening to make an appearance. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the last syllable. 

A notification on your phone stops you from responding to him and you unlock it immediately. It seems that Professor Choi needs to give you a stack of assignments and instead of just walking a few doors down the hall, he had to send a message. You drop your phone back on the desk with the message still open and take a calming breath. 

“Everything good?” Jeonghan asks with more care than you’re used to.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back. Have to go pick something up from Professor Choi’s office,” you say, already on your feet and heading towards the door. 

It only takes a minute or two for you to go and come back. For once, you’re thankful for Jeonghan because it gives you the ready-made excuse that you’re just wrapping up office hours with a student waiting for you to return. He doesn’t need to know that student hasn’t ever asked you a class related question without another student present. You’ll take the wins where you can get them. The pain in ass in question is still sitting exactly where he was when you left him. 

He looks up at you as you walk back in, set the folders on the corner of your desk, and sit back down. “You really hate Professor Choi.” 

“I didn’t say that,” you counter quickly. Probably too quickly. 

“You didn’t have to. Sometimes you have a really expressive face,” he comments and looks back down at his phone. 

“Only sometimes?” you wonder. Jeonghan looks back up to regard you.

“It’s always expressive, but you work a little harder to control it in class than you do outside of it,” he decides. “You mentioned something about being forced into this. Why be a TA if you hate it?” 

“I don’t actually hate being a TA,” you clarify. He seems to accept this at face value. “It’s just…I didn’t…no. Why am I doing this with you?”

“Because I’m asking?” he offers. 

“I had never considered being a TA. I wasn’t opposed to it, I just hadn’t really fit it into my schedule. It has been a lot of fun, though,” you say. It’s the first time you’ve noticed how much attention Jeonghan gives you. The way his eyes are on you and it seems like he tunes out any other distractions. 

“How did you end up here, then?” he asks. Any teasing or lightness is gone from his tone. 

“Please don’t make me regret giving you the honest answer,” you say warily. “But, I’m applying for my PhD program. I have everything that I need��except for a final letter of recommendation.”

“Oh, you’re joking,” he says and actually does look offended on your behalf. “He’s making you TA for him in exchange for the letter? That’s why you said you were forced into it?”

“Yup,” you respond, popping the end of the word like he had done earlier.. 

“Well, that’s definitely shitty but I’m still counting myself lucky that you ended up with this class,” he says.

“I can’t figure you out,” you admit. 

“I know.” 

That should be annoying, the way he says that he knows you can’t figure him out. It’s like he’s not even trying to hide that he’s making it difficult to get to know him. Yet, he’s not making it a secret that he wants to get to know you better. There’s just something about him that prompts you to share things you wouldn’t with anyone else. No, that’s dramatic. It’s just easier to share with him than it usually is with someone else that you barely know. 

Despite asking again if Jeonghan has any questions, he insists that he’s fine with just sitting there to keep you company while you have to wait to see if any student comes by in the last minutes of your office hours. For a change, he doesn’t ask any personal questions. Doesn’t try to press you into admitting things that you usually wouldn’t. He just takes out his laptop to make it look like you’re actually helping him in the event that anyone checks in on you. 

Nobody does. The last few minutes pass quickly with you returning to grading the assignment you had been working on. The two of you gather up your things in relative silence and Jeonghan walks with you out to your car so that you can head home. You’re expecting something else or something different, but that’s all there is. Just a walk to your car, a smile with a goodbye, and him heading off in another direction. It’s somehow the strangest and most normal interaction you’ve had with him. It makes you pause to wonder if this is the real version of him. A little quiet, a little reserved. Not being a menace to anything and anyone in his path.

It’s not until you’re back home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine while watching some variety show with Seungkwan that you realize it wasn’t quite the normal interaction you thought it was. 

Jeonghan: i appreciated you telling me the truth about the class today

The message lights up your screen and all you can do is stare at it without being able to believe it. How are you getting a message from Jeonghan with his contact information saved? You’re racking your brain trying to figure out if you gave him your number, or saved his, and just didn’t remember. 

“What’s with your face?” Seungkwan asks.

“Wow, that was nice,” you retort.

He looks over at your phone where the notification still shows a message from Jeonghan. “Finally gave him your number, huh?”

“No, I -” you start when another message comes in.

Jeonghan: you left your phone unlocked when you went to Choi’s office and I figured it was time for us to exchange numbers

Seungkwan, now more invested in your messages than in the show in the background, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, he’s good. I see why you like him.”

“I don’t like him, Kwan,” you sigh.

“Sure,” he says dismissively. 

As if to prove something, you make a show of moving your phone over to the end table and turning it over. Seungkwan gives you a Look that plainly says he’s not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell. Otherwise, he lets you go back to the show that you’re watching without bringing it up again. 

The text thread with Jeonghan seems to haunt you every time you open your messages, at least until there are enough conversations to push it out of your view. Surprisingly, you don’t get any more texts from him when you don’t answer. He also doesn’t show up to your next office hours, which is a bit odd to you. And you can’t vent to Seungkwan about it because he’s still very convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you end up sleeping with Jeonghan. Ridiculous, honestly. Like you would waste your time on someone you’re not even sure you like. 

That carries you through to your next class. It’s a slightly more complicated lecture that Choi does every semester to try and scare students off this path. He claims it’s so that everyone knows what they would be getting into. You suspect that it’s his way of reminding everyone just how smart he is. Not exactly the most flattering trait, but you suppose that he probably doesn’t care about that. Doesn’t need to. He’s been teaching so long that his job is guaranteed at this point. 

The good thing, though, about knowing Choi won’t need you during the entirety of the class is that you get to just sit at the back of the class and do some work. It gives you the chance to get through grading some of the assignments for the class without having to take time away from something else. Let’s you get absorbed into that to tune out the grating sound of Choi’s monotonous voice as he tries his best to warn students off the path. You’re so absorbed that you don’t notice the way that Jeonghan periodically glances over his shoulder to where you’re sitting, trying to catch your attention even for a moment. 

When the class comes to an end, you make your way up to the front as you would any other time. It’s a little irritating to have to check if there’s anything Professor Choi needs like you’re his personal assistant, but you’re also resigned. What you’re not prepared for, though, is that he calls Jeonghan up to the front of the room.

“Yes, Professor?” he says with so much respect and deference that it almost feels real, if you didn’t know how he feels. One of the only personal things you actually know about this mystery of a man.. 

“I really enjoyed your proposal for the final project using Legos,” Choi starts. “Every few semesters, I get someone that seems to think being good at using plastic building blocks means they’d make a good engineer. But, you’ve actually been doing wonderfully in the class. So, I want you to work with my TA here to refine the idea a little bit. I don’t think you’re meeting your full potential with it yet.” 

“Oh, well Professor Choi…” you start and he waves a hand. 

“Surely it isn’t a problem to help foster the best student in my class, is it?” he challenges.

“No, of course not,” you concede. 

Professor Choi wears a triumphant smile. “Good. I’ll leave the two of you to coordinate your schedules. See you next class, Mr. Yoon.” 

The formality of calling students by their family names nearly makes you roll your eyes. It’s only when you note the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes that you catch yourself. The two of you say your goodbyes and a silence settles in Choi’s absence.

“Should I just stop by your office hours tomorrow?” he asks when it’s clear you aren’t going to say anything. 

“Sure, that works,” you say. “You stop by most of them anyway.” 

“Does it bother you that I do?” he asks, a note of something you can’t detect in his tone. Maybe vulnerability. 

That makes you soften. “No, of course not.”

“I can back off if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he says with a forced smile. “Maybe it was too much adding my number to your phone.” 

“We can talk about boundaries when I see you during office hours tomorrow,” you joke. At least it seems to bring a real smile back to his face. 

In a strange turn of events, Jeonghan shows up to your office hours only two minutes after they start. You haven’t even gotten yourself fully unpacked because you weren’t expecting him to show up at the beginning. Not when he seems to show up in the latter half every other time. 

The differences continue as you settle into the work the professor assigned the two of you. Jeonghan pulls out his proposal, something you hadn’t actually seen yet, and talks you through his ideas. His idea had been to submit a design for a brand new structure built to scale entirely using Legos. It’s ambitious in a way because the blocks only come in certain shapes and sizes. You can’t just cut something down to fit the size that you need. It requires a good amount of forethought. But, for someone like Jeonghan who’s taken to the course like a fish to water, it doesn’t seem like it’s quite enough. You can see why the professor asked you to help him work through it a little bit more. It needs to be fleshed out a little further. 

As the two of you go back and forth with ideas about how to give it an element that makes it more impressive, you’re stuck by how easy it is to work side-by-side with him. How well the two of you work together. It’s like every visit before this has been building up to the level of comfort you have now, even if you’re still pretending that you don’t really know him. Maybe you don’t, though. It’s not like he ever gives you real answers to your questions.

“Why Legos?” you ask as the two of you are feeling stuck on where to go to expand on the proposal. 

“Because it’s funny to see how annoyed you get when I bring it up, so I figured it would be funny to imagine you grading my final project that has to do with Legos,” he says with that same look.

“Be serious for once, Jeonghan,” you sigh. “I’m trying to help you with this. It’s the least you could do.” 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment and shifts in his seat. “It’s, well, it’s just always been the way that I zone out and reset. At first, it was just when I needed a break from dealing with people because I had to focus on the instructions. Then, I started to think about how impressive it was that they were able to form these insane shapes with building blocks. Then, it started to get more elaborate with me testing out what worked and what didn’t when I built my own designs.” 

It’s one of the first truly real and truly honest things he’s said to you. Not hiding behind a joke or brushing off an answer. It’s just him and you feel like that one response helps you know him better than all the hours he’s spent in your office up until that point. It also helps you realize what the proposal was missing in the first place: something personal from him. 

Ultimately, what is going to make this project stand out is something that makes it personal. A structural engineer doesn’t really need to design a building or a bridge or any other structure. They do need to design and analyze any of the support systems, though, which can be a dull job at times. Adding something more human will make it stand out. So, you suggest that Jeonghan take it a step further than just modeling a structural support system from Legos. You suggest that he set it up almost like instructions for an established set. But, instead of simple drawings to make it step by step, you suggest that he include little snippets about his previous experiences with using Legos, how he tests it to make sure he structure will hold, and any calculations he does for load capacity and gravity. 

Initially, he seems a little unsure. It’s easy to see that talking about things that are more personal to him, especially for a final project, is uncomfortable. After a lot of reassurances that nobody but you and Professor Choi will see it if he doesn’t want them to, he finally agrees that it’s a good idea. It does seem like he’s at least excited about the prospect now, though. 

While he’s rewriting his proposal to submit to the professor, you get back to what you had planned to do during the first part of your office hours before he showed up: grading assignments. Once again, his isn’t on the stack to be graded. Out of habit, you always grade his first and some time when he’s guaranteed to not be around. It’s oddly comfortable to work like this, grading papers while he types away on his laptop across from you. 

Once he gets through typing up a new proposal, he asks if you would be willing to read it over. You’re just about to suggest that he email it to you, when he just hands his laptop over. Seems unconcerned about having you his laptop. Although he watches you carefully as your eyes scan through the words, it feels like his only concern is what you think about it. Which doesn’t need to be a concern at all. It’s perfect, as far as you’re concerned. 

You tell him as much when you look up with a smile. “I love it.”

“Don’t be nice to me now,” he says nervously as you hand the laptop back over. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You don’t need to spare my feelings now when you’ve been ignoring my texts,” he says like he’s trying to protect himself. 

“So much to unpack there and we’ll return to the texts,” you say, a little exasperated. “But, I’m not being nice about the proposal. It’s perfect and I genuinely can’t find a single thing I’d change. Choi’s going to love it.” 

“Ah, well, he was right in getting your help. I wouldn’t have gotten here on my own,” he admits and it does actually make you smile again. 

“Still your idea,” you say to encourage him.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he says and you know it’s the real him for a moment. 

“Okay, but back to the texting,” you say to shift.

“The boundaries chat, wonderful,” Jeonghan says, returning to his previous mask of being a menace. 

“You really shouldn’t be going through a stranger’s phone and adding your number,” you chastise. 

“We’re not strangers though, are we?” he challenges. “And I didn’t go through your phone.”

“No?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Your phone was still lit up when you left so I called myself quickly and then created a new contact, and then locked your phone and put it back,” he says like it’s the most normal sentence in the world.

“That’s insane?” you state with a level of shock.

“I really wasn’t trying to cross some sort of line,” he admits with a shocking level of sincerity. “I just really like getting to know you and I figured you’d feel weird about giving a student in your class your number, even though you’re still a student as well. So, I just wanted to make it easier. If you don’t want me to have it, you can delete it right out of my phone.”

Jeonghan holds his unlocked phone out to you and it’s open to your contact. For some insane reason, you do actually believe what he said. It’s easy to see how he might want to befriend you and be hesitant on how to do that. He strikes you as the kind of person that can put on a mask of liking to be social, but really would much rather be at home or in a small setting like in your office with you. And you do actually enjoy having him around, even if you keep trying to pretend that he’s basically a stranger to you. He’s not wrong, either. You would have felt weird about exchanging numbers with him. You’ll never admit that to him. 

He must see the hesitation on your face because he retracts his hand. Waits for you to say something, though. “I guess it’s not the worst thing that you have my number.” 

“That’s almost a positive,” he jokes. “You could give a guy false hope that you actually might be starting to like me.”

“Oh, now I wouldn’t go that far,” you quickly tack on. “Wouldn’t want you to get a big head.”

“Have you seen the grades I’m getting? I already know I’m doing something right,” he brags. 

“I have seen your grades since I’m usually the one grading them,” you remind him. “So, I have to balance it out.”

“You just wanna break my heart over and over again,” he whines.

“You’ll survive,” you deadpan. 

Everything seems to carry on as it always does. You have to make sure you’re keeping up with all of your actual classes for your degree. Grade assignments when Professor Choi hands them off to you. Give feedback on the upcoming topics. Most importantly, you find  plenty of time to disengage from all the hustle of classes. To enjoy time with friends where you can let your brain just wander onto things that don’t matter nearly as much. 

Even though you don’t ever text Jeonghan first, it doesn’t seem deterred because you do always answer the messages that he sends to you. Some of them are idle thoughts throughout the day. Others are questions that he wants answers to and seems to think he’s more likely to get them over text than during the hours he spends in your office. Your favorites, though, are when he texts you some wildly out of pocket statement and then gets you to debate him on it because it’s always something completely inane. Something meaningless. It gets you so fired up, though. 

“He’s so infuriating,” you complain as you forcely set your phone down on the couch next to you. 

“I’m guessing we’re talking about Jeonghan,” Seungkwan says from his position on the other end of the couch.

“Why would you immediately jump to Jeonghan?” you ask. 

“Bestie, we haven’t talked about anyone else but Jeonghan all semester,” he says. You fling a pillow at your roommate.

“First, you’re being dramatic. And second, yes I talk about him a lot. He’s infuriating,” you say.

“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan says dismissively.

“I might hate him,” you say.

“They say hate sex is the best sex,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone.

“And they say killing your nosey roommate isn’t actually a crime,” you retort. 

Seungkwan looks up at you and smiles. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Vernon,” you scoff. 

“Maybe, but if you kill me, who’s going to lend their ear to you and listen to your troubles?” he asks.

“Van Gogh,” you answer immediately.

“He’s dead,” Seungkwan says with an arched eyebrow, carefully avoiding the more obvious retort.

“And so are you to me right now,” you say flatly. 

“Touche,” he says with a light laugh. “What’s he done this time that’s got you all pissy?”

“He’s spent the last 20 minutes debating with me over whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich,” you say, expecting Seungkwan to think it’s just as ridiculous as you. 

What you’re not expecting, though you should be, is for him to pick up Jeonghan’s side in the debate and make you rehash everything you’ve already talked about. It sounds like such an innocuous topic. Something so outlandish that it could possibly spark debate for more than a few minutes. Yet, here you are, having the same debate all over again. It makes you even more heated despite not having a stake or opinion before Jeonghan asked you. In fact, you had never even considered the question. It was one of the most effective he had posed since he started sending you random questions or opinions like this. 

Somehow, though, your biggest mistake is telling Jeonghan that your roommate got just as invested as he had about the topic. Worse when you told Jeonghan that Seungkwan was on his side. It made it immediately obvious that you could not ever let those two meet. It would spell an instant demise for any remaining sanity you had left. The realization that they would be instant best friends is terrifying. 

The debate about whether or not hotdogs are sandwiches lasts all the way until the next day when Jeonghan shows up at your office hours, right at the start. The look on his face tells him that he’s about to carry on the text conversation. But, thankfully, he falls silent when you say that you actually want to get some grading done unless he actually has a question about the course material. It makes him soften, actually, and he agrees that he’ll sit at the little table and work on some of his own homework. It doesn’t really give the impression that he’s asking you for help, though you’re sure that you could sell it if you needed to. 

Normally, it’s not all that distracting to have Jeonghan in your space. Probably because he’s there so often that you’re kind of used to him by now. That’s a thought you don’t allow yourself to dwell on too long. It’s easier to maintain the idea that you kind of hate him than to consider what your real feelings might be. Yet, those thoughts seem to be swirling in your head just by him existing in the same space as you. If he’s equally affected, then you can’t tell. His fingers seem to fly across his keyboard as he works steadily on something. 

Without warning, his voice interrupts the rhythm you finally find. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve never asked permission before,” you note, but don’t look up.

“I wasn’t sure if it was an office hours question,” he says with a little hesitation. 

That does get you to look over at him. “Is it about the course material?”

“No,” he says.

“Shocking,” you sigh. “Well, whatever it is, let’s have it.”

“Do you want to go out and get dinner sometime?” he asks, looking more vulnerable than usual.

It’s enough to make your heart both constrict and threaten to beat out of your chest. Does he know that you’ve been sitting here internally debating what your actual feelings towards him are? Has it been that obvious on your face? 

“With you?” you ask to buy yourself time. 

“That would be the idea, yes,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t know…” you start.

“You don’t know because you’re trying to spare my feelings? Or you’re not sure for some reason?” he asks to clarify.

That’s such a crossroads kind of question. You’re not actually sure what the answer is yourself. All you know is that you feel immediate panic at the thought of one of the professors, especially Professor Choi, seeing you out with him. It’s not that there are any rules about TAs and students dating. After all, TAs are just students themselves. But, since you’re doing most of the grading, setting some of the assignments, and even leading some of the classes, it’s frowned upon. It could give the student actually in the class some kind of perceived advantage. The thoughts just go rapidly flying through your brain as you look over at Jeonghan’s expectant face.

You decide on some version of the truth: that it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s not a good idea for you to blur that line. That if someone from the university saw you out, that it could possibly jeopardize everything you’ve spent years working on. That Professor Choi seems even more old school than most of the other professors. You’ve already sacrificed so much. It’s just not a risk you think you can take. 

What you don’t say: that the question actually confuses you. That you can see yourself saying yes to finally figure out what exactly it is that’s going on with you and Jeonghan. You wonder what type of place he would pick. Wonder what he’s like when it’s really just the two of you without the risk of someone else butting in. You wonder if maybe he’ll answer all those personal questions that he’s so fond of dodging when he’s sitting in your office. It actually makes you wonder if saying yes is worth taking a risk when you’ve been so careful with everything in your entire academic career. It’s the kind of thought that really terrifies you even more. This is a man that you can’t even figure out your feelings towards and yet you’re considering taking a massive risk. 

It’s one of the most intense office hours you hold and you’re left with more questions than answers. 

It’s been another exhausting day between your own classes, research, and doing work as a TA. Sure, there are definite upsides to your schedule. It helps you feel like you have a complete grasp on the material. It also helps you feel like you might be well suited to being a lecturer or even a professor yourself down the line. You also know that you’re giving more to your time as a TA than you need to. It’s just that you don’t want to leave anything to chance. The stronger the recommendation from Choi, the better. 

When you get to your apartment, Seungkwan is in the kitchen with Vernon and Chan. Which should be a concerning sight, since none of them are exactly great cooks, but you’re too tired to really care. You’re also kind of starving and whatever they’re making smells good. What’s the worst that could happen? So you call out quick greetings before heading into your room to drop off your things and change. You reemerge to the sounds of them bickering back and forth.

“Hey, do you want to try some of what we’re making?” Chan calls.

“She’s going to say no,” Seungkwan says.

“I’m starving. I’m down to try whatever it is,” you disagree. 

“Looks like Chan wins this one,” Vernon teases. 

A beep from your phone distracts you from engaging in the bickering back and forth. It’s the last thing you’re expecting, though it shouldn’t be. Ever since Jeonghan managed to get your number, and heard your half-hearted chat about boundaries, he’s been bothering you whenever he feels like it. 

Jeonghan: have you thought about what I asked? You: no Jeonghan: don’t believe you You: my answer hasn’t changed Jeonghan: that it's not a good idea? You: exactly Jeonghan: that’s not a no You: isn’t it? Jeonghan: listen, I respect you and if you tell me no, I won’t ask again Jeonghan: the only thing I’m going to ask if you actually think about it before saying no You: fine

“Hello? Are you there?” Seungkwan asks, snapping his fingers in front of your face. 

“Huh?” you ask.

“Oh, she’s gone girl,” Chan says with a laugh.

“Who were you texting?” Seungkwan asks. He gives you a look that screams he’s about to tease the shit out of you if you’re honest.

“Oh, nobody important. Just a friend,” you say dismissively. 

“Are we calling Jeonghan a friend now?” Seungkwan teases. 

“It wasn’t Jeonghan,” you say with an eye roll.

“Who’s Jeonghan?” Vernon asks.

“I think he’s that guy we’ve been betting on when she’s gonna finally give in and sleep with him,” Chan says in an undertone to Vernon.

“I’m not going to sleep with…hang on. What the fuck?” you ask, wheeling around on Seungkwan. “Have you been betting on me again?” 

“Only when you’re being an idiot,” Seungkwan says with a shrug. 

“Wait, again?” Vernon asks.

“Bro, we have been involved in other bets,” Chan says.

“I need new friends,” you grumble.

From there, it devolves into the usual bickering that you associate with your friend group. Sometimes you wonder how you even got so sucked into this friend group where they’re two or three years younger than you. You’re incredibly thankful for them, though, even in moments like this where you want to strangle them. 

Dinner moves into watching something and playing a game. It always goes the same way. Chan or Vernon take care of picking what to watch since they watch more TV and movies than you and Seungkwan. Conversely, Seungkwan usually picks the game, which is never a good idea because he always picks something that he’s good at. It doesn’t really matter to you, at least. Your brain tends to be fried from classes and research and all that. It’s nice to let them just make the decisions and chime in when you have something to say.

Thankfully, the conversations quickly move past your friends and their complete conviction that you have feelings for Jeonghan to much less serious topics. Sitting there, though, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace even in the chaos. Even when you say that you need new friends, you know that you wouldn’t trade these friends for the world. 

It’s been just over a week since you promised to give Jeonghan’s question actual thought. You’re still not entirely sure why you agreed. It’s not like you’re actually going to say anything other than no. It’s been a little weird, though, because Jeonghan hasn’t brought it up again, either. It’s like he’s actually been true to his word. He even skipped your office hours when he would usually show up just to bother you and pretend to ask questions. 

Since your workload has been a little light, you agree to go out for drinks with Seungkwan and some friends. It’s a much needed night to unwind and just not think about any of the issues that plague you during the week. It’s a night of ridiculous conversations while you all give each other a hard time about nothing that really matters. Eventually, as is always the way it goes, Seungkwan gets up and kicks off some karaoke. It’s a blessing and a curse. He’s got an amazing voice and you feel like you should be paying to hear someone sing that well. But, then he wants other people to join him and none of you are that keen to embarrass yourselves by following him. 

Casting your eyes around the bar, they land on someone in a leather jacket. As you watch, he shrugs it off and sets it on the back of his chair. There’s something compellingly beautiful about him. He runs a hair through his short, perfectly textured black hair and turns his face slightly to the side. You’re appreciating his profile for a second before it hits you. This isn’t some stranger. It’s Jeonghan. It’s just that he’s clearly cut his hair and styled it differently. You quickly return your eyes to your group and only can hope that he hasn’t noticed you yet. Then again, Seungkwan has been loud and singing before returning to your table. Most people seem to have noticed him. Still, since Jeonghan hasn’t texted you or come over to say anything, you figure that maybe he hasn’t seen you. No matter what, you down another drink to forget about checking him out. 

By the time it’s your turn to go up to the bar and get another round of drinks, you’ve mostly pushed the thought of Jeonghan out of your mind. With your back to his table, it’s been much easier to act like he doesn’t exist. Once you’re at the bar, it’s a little more difficult. Your eyes find his table without even meaning to. His jacket is still there, but he’s not. 

“Looking for me?” a soft voice asks from just beside you. 

It makes you jump a little to realize that he’s somehow right next to you. You try your hardest to act like you’re unaffected when you turn to face him. Try to act like you didn’t realize he was there. Kind of fail at that, honestly, because you’re one drink past the point of being able to pull it off. “Hey, Jeonghan. How long have you been here?”

He smiles that mischievous smile that always makes him look like he knows something that you don’t. “I saw you looking over at my table. You knew I was here.”

“I almost don’t recognize you with the new haircut and that leather jacket,” you say and only realize your mistake a second too late. 

“The leather jacket back at my table?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I saw you checking your phone too.” 

“Were you watching me?” you challenge.

“Yes,” he admits freely. “You’re nice to look at.” 

“Oh, well that’s not…I didn’t mean,” you stutter out, saved by the bartender setting a small tray down of drinks for you and your friends. 

Somehow, though, because life isn’t fair (and neither is Seungkwan), your best friend picks that moment to waltz over claiming he wants to help with drinks. What he really seems to want is to introduce himself to Jeonghan. Even goes as far as pretending he hasn’t heard Jeonghan’s name before. Seungkwan manages to sell it better too and you think it would probably pass with anyone else that wasn’t paying such sharp attention. It’s only then that you notice Jeonghan doesn’t have a drink in hand. Doesn’t really seem the slightest bit drunk. Which is fine until Seungkwan manages to make it even worse by inviting Jeonghan and his friends to come join your group. 

Then, something else that’s kind of weird happens. Jeonghan, who has spent the entirety of the semester up until about a week ago terrorizing you, barely says anything to you at all. He talks about his favorite artists with Seungkwan. Asks Chan for suggestions on some movies that he’s recently seen. Even laughs about random ass memes with Vernon. His friends, whose names you can’t even remember, fit in just as seamlessly. It’s a little…well, uncomfortable. It’s giving you entirely too much time to think and you don’t like it.

So, you do the only reasonable thing and you keep getting drinks. Stay just on the right side of drunk so that you’re aware of your surroundings, but not sober. It makes it easier to deal with everything happening around you.

As the night continues on, your merged groups seem to ebb and flow. Some people wander over, drawn in by the fact that it seems like a fun place to be. Other times, some wander off to make new friends or have new conversations. This is especially true of Seungkwan, which you’re used to. Your roommate is one of the most social people that you know. And then people start to make their excuses to leave as it gets later. How you end up outlasting Chan is a mystery, since he seems to have endless energy. It’s fine, though. You still have your roommate.

Well, until he tells you, without nearly the amount of shame that he should have, that he’s going to be bringing someone home that he got to talking to about karaoke. It’s a little unlike him, at least until you realize that the person isn’t a stranger. They’re definitely someone that Seungkwan has talked to before. It still leaves you a little lost on what to do or where to go.

“I never ask you for anything,” Seungkwan pleads. It’s patently false. He’s always asking you for things, just never things like this. 

“I could text Chan or Vernon to see if they’ll let me crash on their couch,” you say, trying to quickly clear the cloudiness from your brain. 

“Don’t they put their phones into DND as soon as they get home?” Seungkwan asks.

“My only other option is to just go home and put headphones on,” you say.

“You could come crash at my place. My roommate won’t be back from a trip til tomorrow,” Jeonghan offers. 

“Perfect! Thank you!” Seungkwan rushes out.

“Um? Seungkwan? You can’t just send me to some stranger's house?” you protest.

“He’s not a stranger. He’s been in your class all semester and at your office hours nearly every day,” Seungkwan says with an eye roll. Jeonghan looks vindicated hearing this piece of information. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“It’ll be fine. I can sleep in his room and you can sleep in mine. I’ll even make sure you have fresh sheets if you’re worried,” he says. 

This is definitely a bad idea. Even though you’re not drunk, you’re definitely not sober enough to pretend you’re not at least a little bit interested in Jeonghan. Everything about him seems to be a study in contrasts. Confident but not in some toxic masculinity type of way. Chaotic but serious at the same time. Silly to where he would say he joined a class because he’s good at Legos but also genuinely smart. And beautiful in a way so few men seem to be. He’s just something entirely his own.

You shake your head because you realize you’re spacing out. This is a terrible idea and one you probably wouldn’t agree to if you were sober. It’s not like he’s actually a stranger, though. Jeonghan seems to have realized the conclusion before you open your mouth. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Dangerous question,” Jeonghan says with a glint in his eyes. 

“I love you,” Seungkwan says and wraps you up in a hug before skipping off. 

“Are you ready to leave, then?” Jeonghan asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Yeah, might as well,” you say. He nods, looking a little unsure for the first time since you’ve known him and turns to grab his jacket. Says a quick goodbye to his friends and you try to ignore the looks they cast over at you. 

“Let’s go,” he says a minute later.

“Are we calling an Uber or something?” you ask.

“I’m sober because I rode my bike here,” he says as he leads the way outside.

“I’m sorry, you rode your what?” you ask, brain slow to catch up with what he’s saying. It’s then that you notice he didn’t just grab his jacket. He’s got a helmet as well. 

“Bike,” he says and indicates a motorcycle parked outside the bar. 

That brings you up a little short. It’s the last thing you would have expected when you thought of this man. Though, maybe it shouldn’t have been. After all, you said he was a study in contrasts. Isn’t this just another one of those? 

Somehow, the more you look, the more it seems to suit him. It’s not some big, clunky bike. Not what you typically think of when you think of a motorcycle. It’s sharp and beautiful, just like he is, even if you can only admit that in your head. He pulls open a compartment that seems to be under the backseat and hands over a helmet. 

“Promise I won’t go too fast,” he says with a softer smile than you’ve seen on him before. Like he’s actually trying to reassure you. 

Sure, it’s not the first time you’ve been on a bike. It’s just that of all the ways you could have seen this night ending, this wasn’t one of them. At least you’re not feeling too self conscious as you slide onto the bike behind Jeonghan and wrap your arms around his waist. You miss the way his breath stutters as you settle in close to him. Miss the way his heart starts to beat out of his chest because you’re too focused on getting comfortable. Don’t even think twice about clinging to his lean frame. But, even with the drinks, it’s hard to ignore the way that your body slots perfectly against his. Or the way your thighs squeeze against his hips. Maybe there’s a lot more to whatever has been happening than you’ve been admitting to yourself. 

Once you reach Jeonghan’s apartment, he carefully helps you off the bike and then puts a bit of distance between you again. It’s the first time that you notice he seems nervous, like maybe, you think, he might be reconsidering if this was a good idea. There’s not really much you can do about that now. You promised Seungkwan that he could have some privacy in the apartment and you’re already here. It can’t possibly be so bad that you really regret coming here. It could even help you sort through the very complicated feelings that are making their presence known. 

Inside the apartment it’s incredibly cozy. Not at all like you imagine two single guys would live while they’re in school. It’s not overly cluttered, but it doesn’t feel cold either. Jeonghan disappears as soon as you both have your shoes off, which lets you look around at some of the decorations. He returns with a spare t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. Despite your insistence that it’s fine, he just presses them to you and indicates where the bathroom is for you to change. 

It feels oddly…comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him outside of class or your office. It also makes you take a little longer to change because you have to process whatever you’re feeling. Since you’re not sure exactly what to do after you change, you peek your head out into the living area. Jeonghan is setting some snacks and water out with the TV on in the background. You take it as a sign that you’re supposed to come out and join him. Momentarily, he disappears into his room and reappears also wearing more comfortable clothes. 

The confusion only gets even worse from there. Maybe it’s just that Seungkwan’s gotten into your head. Since you’re finally processing that you might be interested in being something a little more with Jeonghan, you expect things to go a certain way. Seungkwan, and your other friends, for that matter, seem to think it’s only a matter of time before you cross over into being more than friends. Subconsciously, your brain must have latched onto that. Even wanted it, a little. But, now you’re here, and Jeonghan doesn’t do anything. He’s not the smooth, confident person that you’ve gotten to know over the course of the semester. He doesn’t try to pull any moves on you. Just makes sure that you’re comfortable, that you like the snacks, and that you like the show he has on.

It all feels like it’s a little too much and so Jeonghan shows you the way to his bedroom. Your nerves feel frayed because surely, this is the moment where things finally shift. Surely this is when he makes whatever move he’s held off on making up until this point. Quickly, you brush off the need to change the sheets. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal if something else happens. Without giving your brain a chance to overthink it, you lean in to give him a hug. His whole body tenses for a second and you’re about to pull away, when he finally relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You know, you can just sleep in your own bed,” you offer carefully.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he says through an emotion that you can’t place. 

“I won’t be. Plus, I’d hate to force you into your roommate’s bed,” you suggest again, meeting his eye to reinforce the point.

“Oh, well, it’s…” he starts, eyes avoiding your gaze.

“Really, Jeonghan, it’s fine. Your bed is big,” you say.

“Okay,” he agrees and walks to the other side of the bed.

It’s confusing, to say the least. He slides into the opposite side of the bed without meeting your eyes again. You’re not exactly sure how to give him another sign that you want something else to happen without making it too obvious, especially because it’s not clear if he wants that. The guy constantly in your office was just on the right side of flirty. Always trying to wear you down. This Jeonghan in his apartment is much quieter, more reserved. Like he’s not really sure what happens now that he’s gotten you outside of school like he claims he’s wanted. 

“D’you usually sleep with the TV on?” he asks and you pull a face.

“I’m not a psycho,” you snort. 

“Good to know after I let you into my apartment,” he jokes back and turns on the TV anyway. “I’ll set a timer just in case we both fall asleep.” 

Confusing. You’re laying in bed with this person that up until tonight you referred to as basically a stranger and there’s just…nothing happening. The two of you are plenty close enough that you could brush up against him, yet not touching at all. His attention seems to stay forward on the TV. Occasionally, he shifts to get more comfortable, but he doesn’t get onto his phone or even really look over at you. 

Thankfully, the bed is comfortable and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep laying on your side, facing Jeonghan. The last thing you remember is looking up at his face. Appreciating the cut of his jaw and the way the light from the TV threw his features into contrast. Then nothing but the easiest sleep you’ve had after a night of drinking.

In the morning, when it’s too early to wake up after a late night but late enough that the sun seeps through the curtains, you have a momentary panic wondering where you are. Slowly, the night before settles back into your brain and you relax into the bed. It’s only when you feel a weight around your middle that you wonder if everything is coming back. It is, though. You think back to the last things you remember before falling asleep. Jeonghan was safely on his side of the bed. Now, his arm is draped over your waist and he’s breathing rhythmically like he’s still fast asleep. For once, instead of overthinking it, you just slow your brain back down and drift back into sleep. After all, this is one the right path to what you wanted the night before. 

The sun is fully up when you wake up again if the light streaming around the curtains is any indication. That’s not the only difference, either. There’s no weight around your waist and, when you look over your shoulder, the other side of the bed is empty. Which isn’t entirely surprising when your phone tells you that it’s nearly noon. It’s very unlike you to sleep in that late, but it makes sense. You’re just thankful that Jeonghan insisted on giving you so much water and something to make sure you didn’t wake up with a headache. Even though you’re still a little tired, you’re not hungover and that feels like a miracle. 

But, what do you do now? Nothing happened last night, despite genuinely feeling like Jeonghan had some level of interest in you. But, then he did share the bed with you and curl up to you during the night. Maybe that was his subconscious way of showing what he couldn’t say. You’re out of the bed and nearly out the bedroom door when you hear voices drifting in from somewhere else in the apartment. Voices, plural. One is clearly Jeonghan, but the other sounds female and that stops you in your tracks. 

The decision is immediate once you hear the second voice laughing at something Jeonghan says. You open your group chat with Seungkwan, Chan, and Vernon to ask if any of them are around to pick you up. Chan is the first, and fastest, to respond, saying to drop your location and he’ll be out the door to get you in a minute without any questions asked. That’s more than you’re expecting and you’re incredibly thankful. Makes it feel like one weight has been lighted as you quickly and quietly get dressed back into the clothes you wore the night before. 

Chan texts you to let you know he’s only a few minutes out. That’s your queue to actually leave the bedroom and make an appearance out in the rest of the apartment. Jeonghan’s back is to you and it looks like he’s got a cup of coffee next to him. The other person you heard from the bedroom is, in fact, a woman. She’s stunning in an effortless way that actually makes your head hurt a little bit. It has absolutely nothing to do with the drinks the night before, either. Her eyes land on you and there’s a smile you can’t place. It could be saying that she knows she won, despite whatever effort you made. Something on her face must tip Jeonghan off because he turns around.

And it’s worse than you thought, immediately. The smile on his face is both welcoming and soft, like he’s actually happy to see you. It only makes the whole thing more confusing. Why is he looking at you like that with one of the most beautiful people sitting across from him? 

“You’re awake,” he says, still smiling. “I hope Hana here didn’t make too much noise.” 

“Sorry, babe, I only have one volume setting,” she, Hana, apparently, says with another smile you can’t place. 

“Do you want coffee? Something to eat?” Jeonghan says and starts to get out of his chair.

“No, no, it’s fine. My friend is almost here to pick me up. Thanks for letting me crash last night,” you say without fully meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. It means you miss the confusion that settles in there.

Without a backward glance, you’re out the door and down the elevator. It’s only another minute or so before Chan pulls up, shockingly by himself, and smiles softly at you as you get into his car. All he asks is if you’re hungry and then starts navigating to your favorite place to get breakfast food that’s open at least into the early afternoon. It’s exactly what you need right now. 

Chan lets you just be in your head while he drives with music playing softly in the background. It might be a dangerous decision, honestly. All you can think about are reasons for that person, Hana, your brain supplies automatically, to be in Jeonghan’s apartment like that. His roommate wasn’t home, to the best of your knowledge, so that means she was there for Jeonghan. Was that his girlfriend? Was that why he was so reluctant to do anything the night before? On some level, you do know that’s probably not the right answer. The rational part of your brain knows that he wouldn’t be so calm if that was his girlfriend. There’s no space in your brain for rationality right now, though. So, you’re going to stew in the feelings that she could be dating someone. 

“Do you wanna talk about whatever happened last night?” Chan asks once you’re sitting opposite of each other in a booth. 

“Not really,” you say. “Nothing happened last night, though. So, you don’t have to worry about whoever wins the bet.” 

“I’m not worried about some stupid bet. I’m worried about you,” he says. 

You shrug. “I think I might actually like him.”

“No shit,” Chan says with a knowing smile.

“You didn’t let me finish. I think I might like him and I don’t think it matters,” you say.

“Start at the beginning and we’ll figure this out together.” 

It’s been a week since whatever happened at Jeonghan’s apartment and you haven’t spoken a word to him since leaving. Not that he hasn’t tried to speak to you. After breakfast with Chan, you realized you had both texts and missed calls from Jeonghan trying to figure out what went wrong. Those stay unanswered. Even if you’re being stupid, you can’t really bring yourself to behave in a different way. When the next class comes around, you avoid his eyes as much as possible. The one or two times you do look over at him, he looks incredibly hurt and confused. It’s funny, you think, how he’s the one that’s acting put out by this whole situation when you’re the one who had to wake up to some other woman in his apartment without understanding anything. 

That leads to your first office hours. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t show up to those like he normally would. The office feels a lot quieter, even though other students stop by to ask questions. It just all feels very professional and detached. Not comfortable in the way it does when he drops by. It’s hard to admit, even to yourself, that you had gotten used to having him around. That you even looked forward to it. Somehow, you’re not really sure how, Jeonghan became one of your favorite parts of every day you saw him. That realization makes you want to crawl into your bed and hide forever. No matter what, it doesn’t feel like you’ll have the option to go back to that. It sucks to realize it just took you too long to come to the very obvious conclusion. 

Now, at least, it’s the weekend again so you have a short reprieve from all things school related. Well, all things Jeonghan related because you still have your own homework to handle, assignments to grade, and a new week to prepare for. At the very least, you deserve a little bit of a treat. Texting the group chat makes you realize, though, that a lot of your friends seem to have their own things going on. 

Seungkwan is out spending the day with the same person that he brought home last weekend. They seem like they’re really enjoying getting to know each other, which you’re rooting for wholeheartedly. You want your roommate and best friend to be happy. Vernon is kind of vague saying that he’s got other plans. With anyone else, you might think that he’s also seeing someone. You just know that he tends to be a little spacy when it comes to sharing plans. Knowing Vernon, he’s probably just off with some friend of his. Once again, Chan comes through and says that he could really use a coffee. Apparently, there’s some new cafe by him that he’s been wanting to try out. It feels like an excuse because Chan will absolutely go anywhere by himself, but you take it all the same. He’s actually probably the easiest of your friends to speak to about this, even if he’s younger than you are. 

One sip into your drink proves that this is the best decision for a Saturday afternoon. Chan chatters away about the things that have been going on in his life. He’s taking more dance classes in every free moment he has and it’s nice to see the way his face lights up talking about it. He certainly seems happier than any time you see him talking about his actual classes. Think about suggesting he give up one thing to pursue something else that would truly make him happy. His face is different when he’s happy like this. It makes it obvious how strained he feels with everything else.

A laugh pierces through the crowd and it gives you the worst sense of deja vu. Suddenly, you’re back in Jeonghan’s apartment. Which is crazy, right? What are the odds that he and the mystery woman are in this same coffee shop at the same time as you and Chan?

Not impossible, apparently. Well, at least in part. Your eyes cast around for the source of the laugh when they land on the mystery woman sitting with someone else that you don’t recognize. Your brain tries to stutter over the name before it forces you to think, Hana. Just as you’re about to look away, her eyes find yours like she could sense someone looking at her. She flashes a smile, which you try to return, before looking back at Chan and whatever story he’s sharing. 

That should be it. Except, when she appears by your side a moment later, you realize it’s not. She has someone else you’ve never seen in tow behind her. Chan, not always as quick on the uptake, looks up at her in confusion.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you remembered me…” she begins and you’re quick to answer.

“I do, yeah. Sorry about the other day,” you say. Chan’s face has a look of dawning comprehension. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. I didn’t even catch your name,” Hana says and you open your mouth to share before she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “No, Jeonghan told me. He’s done nothing but speak about you for weeks now.”

“And I thought I could be annoying,” the mystery person says from behind Hana.

“Oh, I’m so rude. This is my boyfriend, Joshua,” Hana introduces and your brain short circuits. What? Boyfriend?

“And Jeonghan’s roommate. I hit traffic coming back last weekend or I would’ve been there to meet you as well. Make the morning even more awkward,” he jokes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, rapidly trying to make your brain connect. “You two are dating?”

“Yup!” Hana says with a smile and then notices your face. “Wait, what did you think? That I was dating Jeonghan?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. I just thought…it was still early-ish in the day and…” you stumble awkwardly. 

“Babe, no. Jeonghan is very single. I was just early getting there because Joshua hit traffic and I was excited to see him,” she says. “He will kill me for saying this, but he hasn’t talked about anyone but you since the class started.”

“Please note that I had no part in spilling the beans. I have to live with him,” Joshua jokes. 

“And just so there’s no more confusion, I’m one of her closest friends, Chan. Not a boyfriend or date or anything like that,” Chan says. 

“Oh!” Hana says and turns to Joshua. “Jeonghan was mentioning him, remember? There was a movie we were supposed to watch.” 

“Yeah, he did mention that,” Joshua agrees.

“Anyway, I’m sure you have lots to think about, but I’m nosy and I figured I’d say hi. Have a good weekend!” Hana says, full of more energy than anyone should have on the weekend. Joshua gives a smile and follows her out of the shop.

As soon as they’re out of sight, you drop your head into your hands. All that worrying and you could have just talked to him. Could have avoided this whole idiotic situation. 

“Feeling kinda dumb right now?” Chan asks. You raise your head to glare at him. “I did say it didn’t seem like he was seeing someone.” 

“Not the time, Chan,” you say.

“It’s completely the time. Look, yeah you fucked up by not just talking to him. But, you admitted that you liked him. He clearly likes you. Just talk to him. I’m sure you can fix it,” he says. 

“I don’t know,” you start. “I was such an asshole.” 

“I mean, yeah, you kind of were. But, he spent that whole night after Seungkwan invited them over getting to know your friends. Genuinely interested in everything we said. He’s not doing that just to make more friends. He wants to show you that he can fit into your life without anything really having to change,” Chan reasons and it brings you up short.

“When did you get so smart?” you question.

“I’ve always been smart, you just treat me like a baby,” he says with an eye roll.

“You are the baby in this friend group,” you point out. 

“Just go figure out how to make it up to him,” Chan says. 

Even though you know it was a terrible miscommunication, you’re not sure how to approach Jeonghan for the rest of the weekend. You’re also not sure how the conversation will go. So, despite knowing better, you decide to just take your time. Get yourself completely set for the coming week and figure that you’ll see Jeonghan during the next class. As much as you want resolution, you don’t feel like it would be enough for you to text him and ask to talk. That could also be taken wildly out of context.

So, you prepare for the next class. Make sure you look a little cuter than you normally would for class. Go over what you’re going to say with both Seungkwan and Chan, who’s gotten incredibly invested in the whole situation. It’s another class where you’ll just be sitting in the back and listening, which might also make it easier. You’re a little early getting there so that you can set all your things down. 

But, then the class starts to fill in and you don’t see Jeonghan. Professor Choi closes the door, doesn’t comment on Jeonghan’s absence, and just starts teaching. It’s unusual. He normally takes attendance. Instead, he does a head count of the students and gets on with teaching. Everyone else is there. Jeonghan is the only one missing. You figure that maybe he reached out about missing the class. It leaves a weird feeling in your stomach, though, because you wonder if he’s okay. What if something happened to him? 

At the end of class, you join Choi at the front as you do on every other occasion. The answer comes immediately when Choi looks up at you. “Mr. Yoon emailed me before the class to say that he was feeling very sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. I assured him you would send over some notes on the subject matter today.” 

You try to avoid any relief that you feel at knowing it’s at least nothing that serious. It sucks that he’s sick, but at least he wasn’t in an accident or anything. You need to stop going to the worst case scenario, honestly. “Oh, sure. I’m sure he’s already ahead on the material, but I’ll send it over.”

“He’s such a good student,” Choi agrees. “Thank you for helping him with the proposal. I’m not sure if you read it over, but it’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“I did read it because he wrote it during my office hours. But, it was all him,” you say. 

Professor Choi looks up at you like he knows that’s not entirely true. “I can feel your influence on it. In a good way, of course. You have a habit of helping people get to their best results.”

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. It’s the most genuine compliment he’s ever given you. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a folder to hand to you. “Did I miss picking up an assignment to grade?”

“No,” he says with a smile you’re not used to seeing. “This is your letter for the recommendation packet. I already sent it in, but I thought you might like to see a copy.”

“Thank you so much, Professor Choi,” you say with a relieved sigh. 

“You’re incredibly bright, probably one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught,” he says and it takes you completely by surprise. “I know it’s probably seemed like I’ve been hard on you because I have been. I knew there was even more potential in you waiting to be coaxed out. I also know I made it much easier on John to ask for a recommendation. But, between you and I, your letter is much more complimentary and personal than his was. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish.” 

It all suddenly makes sense. Everything that Choi has put you through since asking for his letter. It almost makes you laugh. “I’m sorry for doubting your motives for asking me to TA this class.”

Now, Professor Choi does actually laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize for that. It’s much easier to get the most out of a student when they think they have something to prove.”

“You may be onto something,” you agree.

“I’ll see you next class,” he says and closes up his briefcase to head off.

With that bit of good news, you feel a lot lighter. You almost don’t even need to read the letter (though, you definitely will later). It’s enough to know that your entire future is still open ahead of you. It makes all of the miscommunication with Jeonghan feel incredibly silly. It also makes you feel a little bolder. So, you figure that you still have the location for Jeonghan’s apartment dropped in a group chat. Why not get him some food and medicine to help him feel better? It’ll give you a chance to apologize for how you’ve handled everything up until this point. 

That idea seems a little poorly thought out when you show up at Jeonghan’s apartment with soup and medication. He answers the door, looking completely fine healthwise and confused to see you standing on the other side of the door. 

“Professor Choi said you were really sick so I figured I’d bring some soup to help you feel better,” you offer, holding up the bag to show him. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. There’s none of the normal warmth.

“I was worried about you,” you admit.

He sighs and leans against the doorframe without letting you in. “I can’t do these mind games.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I know I messed up really badly. I owe you an apology.” 

“You might as well come in,” Jeonghan says and steps aside. “Soup does also sound good. It’s cold out.” 

“Right, here,” you say and hand it over to him.

“Is there enough for you to eat with me?” he asks and takes the bag. “Oh, it looks like it. Wanna join me? And you can try to explain what’s been going on?” 

“Sure,” you agree.

It’s mostly silent as Jeonghan heats up the soup and puts it into two bowls for you to enjoy it with him. He sets the bowls at the kitchen table and also sets some drinks down for you. The two of you take a few sips first before you venture to explain what’s been going on.

“I’m really sorry, Jeonghan,” you say.

“So you’ve said,” he comments. He’s not going to make this easy on you.

“That whole night when I stayed here wasn’t exactly what I signed up for,” you admit. He opens his mouth, but you wave him off. “Let me try to get this out. You were so kind and caring to me when you brought me back here. Then, I was kind of expecting something to happen and nothing did…”

“Because you had been drinking. I wasn’t just gonna be like hey, let’s jump into bed when your mind wasn’t fully clear,” he says with a scoff. 

“That’s fair. I get that,” you acknowledge. “Then, I don’t know. I saw Hana sitting out here with you the next day and I just kinda freaked out. I had realized that I might actually like you and here’s this beautiful person in your apartment for who knows what reason. I worried she was your girlfriend or something.”

He snorts a little derisively at that. “That would be kinda shitty to share a bed with you and then let you walk out to find me with a girlfriend. She’s not, by the way. She’s my roommate Joshua’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. I ran into her and Joshua while I was getting coffee over the weekend,” you admit sheepishly. This seems to surprise him.

“You met Joshua?” he asks. 

“They didn’t tell you?” you ask in return and he shakes his head. “Probably because Hana told me that I’m the only one you’ve talked about since starting the class.” 

“I wouldn’t have even cared if I had an answer to why you started ignoring me,” he says. 

“I got a bit scared,” you say softly. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just speak to me,” he insists.

“I know that. I really am sorry, that’s all I can say,” you offer. 

“Well that and you can tell me that you do actually like me. Not that you might like me or something else vague,” he says with a glint to his eyes. 

“You are…infuriating,” you say with a laugh. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny and impossibly kind. You make me want to pull out my hair at least once a day…”

“Don’t do that. You have nice hair,” he interjects.

“But, yes, I’m trying not to be scared anymore. So yeah, I do like you,” you say.

“What about being the TA for my class?” he asks and you shrug. 

“The class will end eventually,” you say. 

“Does this count as our first date, then?” he asks like the true demon he is. 

“Only if you plan something else for our second date,” you concede.

“Deal,” he agrees. 

Everything feels a little bit easier after that. A little bit lighter. Like you actually can breathe for the first time all semester. You tell Jeonghan about the letter and he suggests that you read it right then with him. It makes sense, in a way. Working with Jeonghan has brought out exactly the side to you that Choi wanted to see. It feels like this is kind of his win as well, even though he didn’t realize it. It also feels a little less overwhelming to read it with him by your side. (It’s a rave. Way better than anything you could have dared to hope for and better than any other letter written by him that you’ve read. Everything feels worth it and like it falls into place.)

Now that the awkwardness is out of the way, Jeonghan shares that he wasn’t actually sick, which you already know. It’s obvious looking at him that he feels fine. It does surprise you a bit that he admits to avoiding you to give himself time to process, though. Then he moves onto talking about Joshua and Hana, grumbling that they hadn’t told him about running into you after you relay the entire conversation. Even goes as far as to say that he would have come to class so that you could have figured all of this out. Instead, he admits telling Joshua about the plan to skip. That’s why Joshua isn’t there, though. He claimed he was going to give Jeonghan his space to work through whatever he was feeling and spend the night at Hana’s. You make a mental note to thank Joshua for that. 

“How early is your day tomorrow? Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?” he asks a little awkwardly when you finish your soup.

“Not that early,” you answer easily. “A movie sounds good, but can we watch something in your room? I feel like laying in bed and being lazy.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says.

“We don’t have to,” you say quickly.

“Can I say something that’s really gonna make me look…not cool?” he asks. 

“Sure,” you say curiously.

“You make me a little nervous,” he admits. 

That completely surprises you. Nothing about Jeonghan really seems anything short of confident in everything that he does. It’s kind of nice to see him falter. All you do is hold out a hand to him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

He takes your hand easily and lets you lead him into his own bedroom. Seems very content to let you just set the pace of what’s happening. So, you settle on top of his covers and he hands you the remote. It’s nice to get to control what’s on the TV for a change, even if you’re not really paying much attention to it. Jeonghan is a little stiff against his headboard as you try to settle into his body. 

“Is it okay if I lean against you like this?” you ask, suddenly worrying this is too much.

“Of course,” he says after a moment. 

“You can tell me if…” you start.

“No,” he says firmly. “No, I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I had you in my bed.”

“Just since then?” you tease.

“No, it was definitely before then, but I’ve already lost a lot of cool points,” he says.

“I don’t want to possibly misread the signs, but are you okay with…” you start, once again, before he cuts you off.

“I am fine with absolutely anything you want to give me,” he says and you wish you could see his face. Wonder if he’s blushing.

“And if that’s just a cuddle?” you test.

“Fine,” he says.

“Or if it’s a kiss?” you ask and feel the breath he takes. “Or what about if it’s a lot more than a kiss?” 

He takes another beat. His voice sounds a bit strained when he speaks. “Definitely more than just fine.” 

That’s really all the confirmation that you need. Making sure you’re on the same page is important and getting this kind of consent makes it easier to relax. You settle further back into his chest and pull his arm around you, let one of your own arms drape across his lap. It feels like it might be easier for him to settle that way. So that you can’t see his face and he doesn’t have to worry about losing any more cool points. Not that those really matter with you anyway. More than anything, it’s entertaining to see the way this constantly confident, perpetual pain in the ass gets so tongue-tied now that he’s getting what he wants. 

The more time goes by, the more he seems to relax a little more into what’s happening around him. His fingers absently run along your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. He leans his head down to meet yours and you could swear his lips press the lightest kiss into your hair. His entire presence is a little overwhelming. And he smells amazing. It’s such a unique scent that you can’t place. Something light, airy, and delicate. Something that seems to perfectly suit him. It might be your new favorite scent. 

Nothing about the TV show is keeping your attention. It feels like little more than a precursor to what you both know is coming. But, Jeonghan doesn’t make the first move beyond the contact his fingers make with your arm. The first actual move seems like it might belong to you, which is actually kind of exciting. It’s a bit thrilling to know that you’re going to be in charge with this man who’s done nothing but send every one of your senses into overdrive. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need to be in control of everything. 

Almost as if you’re testing the water, you run your hand across his lap, careful to go slowly. He stops breathing for a second as he seems to wait to see what you’ll do next. It prompts you to run your hand back and forth a few more times, not bothering to move on from the subtle imprint of his dick through his sweatpants. Everything about him stills: his hand freezes on your arm, he doesn’t fidget, and his breathing is incredibly shallow. He starts to get noticeably harder underneath your hand while you keep your eyes trained forward, even though you have no idea what’s going on in whatever show you picked as background noise. There’s something strangely intimate about this in the way it feels a little innocent. 

Finally, when he starts to moan a little with each motion, you pull your hand away. Delight in the way he actually whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s time to actually face him so that you can see what you’re doing to him. Repositioning yourself, you see the look on his face. He’s a little flushed just from the attention and his eyes are wide. Waiting. All he’s doing is waiting to let you set what happens next, like he can’t really believe that this is happening after so much time. It is, though. 

You run a hand through his hair and marvel at how soft it is when it looks perfectly styled. Either his hair just looks like that or he’s got the best products in the world. Neither feels fair when he’s already this stunningly beautiful. Gently, you lean forward to press your lips against his. Let your hand tangle in his hair as you anchor yourself to him. The kiss is at complete odds with you slowly rubbing him through his pants. There’s a little bit of desperation and you’re not even sure which of you it’s coming from. All you know for sure is that his lips are so soft that they feel like clouds and he doesn’t even fight you for control when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just meets whatever pace you set. He really is happy with whatever you give him. 

Your free hand winds down his body and doesn’t waste any time slipping into the waistband of his pants. When your hand wraps around his cock, he tries to pull away from the kiss, but you don’t let him. The moan that comes from you running your thumb over his tip gets caught up in your lips. You pull your hand out just long enough to spit into your palm and return it to the inside of his pants. Jeonghan does break the kiss when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes the first time, a hiss coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you still sure you’re okay?” you ask, but it’s almost more of a tease. 

“Fuck,” he hisses out. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

Hearing him nearly begging like that is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Never could you have imagined you would have this man like putty beneath your hands. It’s going to your head a little bit and then it hits you. You wonder if you can make him come just like this. Wonder how that would feel to have that kind of power over him. 

So, you do the only logical thing, and decide to test it out. You kiss him again, fierce and messy and desperate. Keep a steady rhythm of stroking him. He’s a squirming, writhing mess under your touch and it’s like he doesn’t even remember what to do with his hands. It’s actually turning you on as well to know that he wants you this bad. That nothing more than your lips and his touch are going to send him over the edge. It’s obvious when he starts getting close because he works harder to break the kiss. Can’t seem to catch his breath. You take a little pity on him and kiss across his jaw. Even pull away to watch him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he whimpers.

“So come,” you direct.

“I can’t come in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he protests. “Please, I’m begging…”

“I want you to come for me, Jeonghan. Right now. Exactly like this. Come for me and show me how desperate you’ve been to have my hands on your cock,” you instruct.

“Fuck,” he draws out. “Fuck, I can’t…I’m gonna…”

His release comes almost out of nowhere, so hard and heavy that it coats your hand as you continue to stroke him through the release, coaxing every last bit from him. Once he’s spent, he collapses back against the headboard of the bed and you see any tension drain from his body. You pull your hand from inside his pants and wipe it off on them. Thankfully, he doesn’t even seem to protest. 

While his breathing steadies, you shift and get off of the bed. He slowly opens his eyes and tracks your movement. Only swallows a little hard when you start to undress without taking your eyes off him. Sometimes, this part makes you a little self conscious. It’s much easier now, though, knowing you had just made Jeonghan come in his pants. That’s an ego boost you never expected to get. His breath stutters when you even remove your bra and panties, leaving yourself completely exposed before him. His eyes go somehow even wider when you get back onto the bed and position yourself in front of him. He reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away.

“Oh, no, no,” you chastise softly. “No, my little demon, you are going to watch now.”

“Watch?” he asks. 

“Yes, watch,” you confirm and study his face. “Don’t you want to watch me get myself off? Don’t you want to watch me show you exactly what it is that I like?” 

“F-fuck that’s…wow,” he stutters out. 

You lean back, using one hand behind you on the bed to brace yourself. You spread your legs open to show him the way your pussy already glistens a little. The kissing and the feel of bringing him over the edge like that really turned you on. It’s a little bit of a first for you. Running a finger up your entrance, you collect some of the wetness there. Do it once more for good measure. And then, still emboldened by what’s happened so far, you reach forward to hold your finger out to Jeonghan. Let it run along his lip until he takes it into his mouth and tastes you. 

“Fuck, you’re so…just, fuck,” he hisses. “Can I…”

“No,” you say and cut him off, pulling your finger back. 

Now that you’ve had a taste of him begging for something, you want to drive him to that again. Want to get him so turned on that he can’t even see straight. You slowly tease at your entrance and watch the way his eyes track each movement. When you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples, he seems like he can’t really figure out where to look. Then, you slide one finger into your pussy and it’s like he can’t see to take his eyes off the motion. You moan, even though it’s nowhere near enough of a stretch, and increase the rhythm. Quickly add another finger and start to fuck yourself just the way you like. Just the way you would when you want to draw out your release a little more than using a toy. You slide your free hand down your body and use it to rub small circles on your clit. Somewhere, the thought of Jeonghan watching you becomes a little secondary. It’s incredibly sexy to know that he’s just watching, but you’re also invested in your own high. You want to do this for yourself as much as to show Jeonghan. Can’t possibly realize that Jeonghan is even more turned on knowing that you’re so lost to your own passion. 

The orgasm washes over you more suddenly than you’re expecting and it takes a moment to catch your breath. It takes another moment to realize that Jeonghan has undressed himself while you were lost in your own world. He isn’t touching himself though and you can’t figure out if he’s still sensitive or just waiting for your permission. It’s hard to avoid the realization that every part of him is beautiful. His body is all lean lines, not overly muscular, yet still looks strong. Even his cock is kind of beautiful in a way, which isn’t fair. It’s not surprising, though. 

“That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” he admits, a little breathless. 

“D’you think you can make me come as well?” you tease. “Want to feel my pussy squeeze around you?” 

He nods immediately and it makes you laugh a little. “I know I can. I want…” 

“To taste me?” you offer and his eyes go dark with lust. 

“Can I?” he asks. “Can I actually get a taste? Just your finger wasn’t really enough.” 

“I want to see what that mouth can do when it’s not talking a mile a minute,” you say. “I hope you’re just as good with your tongue.”

It’s obvious that this catches him a little off guard that you’re so confident now with him. So easily fall into telling him exactly what you want him to do. But, you’re very curious to see what his skills are like. The two of you reposition so that he can settle between your legs. His eyes find yours, searching, Maybe asking permission. You nod and he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. He licks up your core and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath at your lingering wetness. The breath against your core sends a slight shiver through your body. 

After all the build up and everything, you don’t really have the patience for him to go slow. So, you tangle your hand into his hair and press his head further into your cunt. Force his nose to brush against your clit. Don’t really stop to consider if it’s too much for him. His moans into you seem to show that they’re not, though. It’s nice to just take what you need and know that he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. When you ask him (read: tell him) to add a finger, he does it without question. For someone that always seems to have a retort for everything, he’s surprisingly quiet now. Nothing piercing the quiet of the room apart from the constant stream of moans from both of you and curses from you as you get closer to your second orgasm. 

The second one hits a lot harder than the first, a fact that you wouldn’t really want to admit to Jeonghan. It’s too obvious to hide, though. You don’t even care. Jeonghan’s tongue is far better than anything you could have dreamed about. Not that you were dreaming about it. (And not that you ever got yourself off in the shower or in your bed, late at night, thinking of the annoying guy who wouldn’t ever seem to leave you alone. Absolutely not.) When you open your eyes again, you find Jeonghan looking at you with awe. There’s nothing smug about his look. It makes your insides go even a little mushier. It’s definitely not the time for those kinds of emotions. 

“Wow,” is all Jeonghan says. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

“Do you still want to…? I mean, can we still…” he starts.

“Jeonghan, do I make you feel that nervous?” you joke. “You just ate me out and made me come all over your face.” 

He shrugs. “I just don’t wanna press my luck.” 

“Maybe we just stop here then,” you say with a return shrug. “I’m not sure you want it enough.”

“Oh, no, I definitely want it,” he disagrees.

“Are you sure?” you taunt. “Sure you can handle it?” 

That unleashes a side of Jeonghan you haven’t fully seen yet. The next moment, he’s begging you for your pussy. Begging you to show you how much he still wants you. Begging to make up for the fake that he came in his pants just at your touch. Just begging for anything and everything. He even goes as far as to say that he’ll do all the work. It shouldn’t be working for you. It’s kind of lame, the way he just can’t seem to stop himself from running his mouth. And, unfortunately, it’s working for you. You kiss him just to make him stop. 

The kiss immediately turns into something desperate, but you’re not sure which one of you takes it there first. Every new bit of him you get only makes you want even more of him. It’s kind of insane to think you weren’t even sure you liked him when it’s been so easy to fall into this. Jeonghan breaks the kiss and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom. Somehow, he manages to get it on in nearly record speed, despite his nerves about everything else. He doesn’t waste any time in positioning himself, either. You lie back when he spreads your legs open and seems a little drunk on the sight of you. You tap his side with your foot and he shakes his head clear of whatever he was thinking. 

Jeonghan lines himself up at your entrance and presses his tip in. You arch your back, moaning at the initial stretch. It’s immediately better than either of your fingers or his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in and it makes him snap into you in one swift movement. All you wanted was to be full and you squeeze your walls around him. Direct him to move. The two of you work together to figure out the right pace, knowing that neither of you is likely to last all that long. You’re both a little sensitive from everything in the lead up to this moment. Still, you revel in the way that Jeonghan rolls his hips into you. Appreciate the way that he nearly pulls all the way out before snapping back into you. Moan into the sloppy kiss when your mouths crash together. It’s hard to tell where your own whines start and his moans begin. The sounds all kind of blend together into some kind of weird harmony. 

Where Jeonghan was incredibly vocal when he was begging, he doesn’t seem to have a coherent thought to share now. Yet, his eyes never leave you. Like he’s trying to map each part of your body. It’s too fast for him to learn what you actually like. That’s not what you need, not right now. What you need is to have another release, one that comes at the same time as his own. And that’s exactly what you get when you come hard again just as you feel his thrusts stutter. A moment later, he’s coming into the condom and eventually stilling inside of you. 

The last thing you want is to feel the loss of him inside of you, but you understand that he has to pull out. His breathing is heavy when he rolls over onto his back. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to get out of bed. That it’s a struggle. But, he gets up to dispose of the condom and you hear water running in the distance. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth and starts gently washing you without even asking. He tosses the cloth on his dresser and then collapses back on the bed next to you. Pulls you into his body without a second thought.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you say softly while you’re nestled into him. 

“Like I would let you leave,” he says just as softly.

“Oh, the man that begs for my pussy is going to force me to stay?” you challenge. 

You feel the way his chest slightly rumbles with laughter. “I was hoping you’d let me live for a second.”

“After you not letting me live since we met? Fat chance,” you answer.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.

“I really don’t want to leave tonight, though, so hopefully you have more clothes to lend me,” you say.

“You’re gonna have to let me move for that,” he says in return.

“Worst offer I’ve gotten all day, but fine,” you agree and allow him to disentangle from you. 

Once he offers you some clothes, you also get up from the bed to get dressed. Try not to ogle Jeonghan too much as he does the same. He catches you, because of course he does, but surprisingly doesn’t say anything. Only smiles back at you. You help him remake the bed before the two of you go back out into the living area. It occurs to you that you didn’t exactly let your roommate know what you were up to before just heading straight over to see Jeonghan.

A fact that is immediately obvious when you see the texts and missed calls on your phone. Oop.

“Hey,” you call out to Jeonghan. “My roommate, I’m sure you remember him…”

“Yeah, Seungkwan, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, he’s freaking out because I forgot to say I was coming over here,” you say. “I’m just gonna call him really quick to let him know I’m fine and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Do you want privacy?” he asks and you just laugh lightly.

“Not sure I need it,” you say and the phone is already ringing. Seungkwan answers nearly immediately.

“What the fuck? Are you okay?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Chill, Kwan, I’m fine,” you answer. 

“Where are you? Your class ended hours ago,” he says.

“Has it been hours?” you ask with some amount of surprise. 

“Wait, where are you?” he asks again, sounding calm but skeptical now. 

“I just…just don’t worry about me for the night, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow,” you say. 

“Switch to video, you whore,” Seungkwan says skeptically.

“Don’t be a weirdo,” you retort.

“Come on! Turn on your camera!” he yells and you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Fucking fine,” you grumble and press the button on your phone before holding it back up to your face.

“I KNEW IT!” he shrieks gleefully. “Who’s shirt is that?”

“Oh, well, it’s…” you stall and look over at Jeonghan. He’s already moving toward you.

“Well?” Seungkwan prompts as Jeonghan leans over behind you so his face shows in the camera.

“It’s mine,” Jeonghan answers and Seungkwan looks like Christmas came early.

“Well, hello Jeonghan,” he says. 

“I promise to take good care of her and send her back in one piece,” Jeonghan says and Seungkwan can’t contain his grin.

“Keep her as long as you like. I’m about to be so rich,” he says, far happier than he should be.

“Goodbye Seungkwan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say and hang up before he can say anything. 

Once you hang up, Jeonghan gives you an odd look. Like he’s trying to figure out what Seungkwan just said.

“Do I…want to ask?” he finally asks.

You sigh. “Seungkwan started placing and taking bets about me sleeping with you as soon as I mentioned you.” 

“And when was that?” he asks, seemingly not even surprised by the bets. You internally curse.

“After the very first class when you mentioned you joined because you like Legos,” you admit. 

“We could have saved so much time,” he whines and you just shake your head.

“This is exactly how it was supposed to go,” you disagree.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Should we get some sleep? We can figure everything else out in the light of day.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree and follow him to bed. 

It’s far easier than it should be to settle into bed with him. Like you’ve done it a million times before. Maybe it’s okay to allow yourself to have the things you want. Maybe this can all be as easy as attaching one block to another until you have something amazing. 

i hope you liked it! and like i said, i'll be back to fix any spelling/grammar errors after the weekend.

taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n , @christinewithluv, @hipsdofangirl, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @lllucere, @vixensss, @soffiyuhh @aidanjoon, @hanniebub, @stormy1408, @lilifiedeans, @hyucksrealm, @joshuaslv, @tinkerbell460 (strikethrough means can't tag)

[reiderwriter]

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye. 

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary. 

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest. 

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets. 

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation. 

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you. 

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence. 

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour. 

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?” 

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him. 

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son. 

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed. 

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son. 

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy. 

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by. 

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well. 

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you  it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.” 

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side. 

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.” 

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features. 

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare. 

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.” 

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

���Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-” 

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation. 

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be. 

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure. 

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?” 

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.” 

“Pretty…. Mom, please.” 

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.” 

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right. 

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him. 

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat. 

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her. 

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank. 

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently. 

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute. 

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?” 

“Mom!” 

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.” 

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls. 

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you. 

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again. 

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange. 

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-” 

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.” 

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off. 

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.” 

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears. 

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.” 

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply. 

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?” 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-” 

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him. 

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?” 

“You're serious?” 

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.” 

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face. 

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.” 

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?” 

“Definitely.” 

[historicity-was-already-taken]

To younger folks looking to do masters degrees in fields like library science, museum studies, and public history:

With the accelerated death murder of the Humanities and ongoing attacks on federally funded archives and museums, you’re about to be in competition with a fuckton of PhDs, AND newly unemployed seasoned professionals. For entry level jobs.

Heck, you’ll be in competition with me: a professional with 2 masters degrees, 10+ years of experience in her fields, and a prestigious book deal under her belt. And im in competition with the PhDs.

It was hard even before this shit got off the ground, and now we’re all up a creek.

Idk what the solution is and I don’t want to tell yall to give up—we do important work!—but I also know you have expenses like rent and groceries and basic needs stuff, and it’s really hard to get those with a salary of $0000/yr + student loan debt.

ETA: tbh I think it’s deeply unethical* for universities to even offer those programs rn, but hey gotta get that sweet sweet tuition money

ETA 2: when I was a fresh faced 22 year old just starting my gradwork, I really resented the older students who warned me off the path. I’ve become what I once hated, alas.

*good nuance on this in the notes, courtesy @eastern-bloc-party

[transmascpalamedessextus]

gideon the ninth characters and their 2025 jobs

harrow: the hardest one on this list tbh. nun’s too simple, religious studies scholar isn’t insane enough. chef is too funny, as is orthopedic surgeon. we’ll go with historic preservationist, specializing in religious architecture and artifacts.

gideon: barista employee of the month, every month, at an inclusive crossfit gym. moonlights at a bar down the street some nights and is known for making sure everyone gets home safe, no matter how many asses she has to kick to the curb (literally)

palamedes: PhD and research consultant with multiple published works (research under his real name, fiction under a pseudonym). what’s the phd in? yes.

camilla: that one friend who can do anything and has done everything. certified meditation instructor? check. semi-professional martial artist? check. volunteer park ranger? check. often credited in palamedes’ works, but you didn’t even know she had a degree. throws mugs and vases in her spare time but vows to never open an etsy store

ianthe: evil woman in STEM (you pick her crime) or chain-smoking actress with a scandalous reputation and horrible interviewing manner but unmistakable talent

naberius: instagram model who is literally always filming sponsored content for a new boutique european hotel or “experience”

corona: so torn on this. either a fellow instagram model that 50% of her audience thinks is fake and 50% thinks is “actually really sweet!” or like a famous marine biologist working to save the turtles or something

jeannemary: young record-breaking olympian/pro athlete. it’s not fencing or martial arts — it’s skateboarding

isaac: internet star with a rising pop punk music career, a la noahfinnce. jeannemary did a viral drop-in to one of his songs

abigail: every gay student’s favorite history (or maybe archaeology?) professor at a world-renowned college

magnus: owner and operator of a charming pub in the quaint town where said world-renowned college is. it’s overpriced but the atmosphere and food are genuinely great

“dulcinea”: chronic illness content creator (later revealed to be grifter)

dulcinea: content creator, artist (painter), and sometimes streamer. candid and humorous about her illness, but refuses to be inspiration porn

“protesilaus”: male podcaster, incel edition

protesilaus: beloved personal trainer who privately trains for american ninja warrior on the side

silas: idk, the cuntiest bitch at the monastery? do we still have monks? can someone be a combo of trust fund baby and monk?

colum: successful practitioner of an age-old craft like blacksmithing. always taking commissions but prefers to help at historic reenactments or even ren faires. exclusively makes historically accurate pieces

judith: cop

marta: cop wait she helped harrow in the bubble so i have to be nice hard-but-fair-and-well-respected fencing instructor at a private school. she might as well be a monk for how little everyone knows about her personal life, but suspicion is rife and all the baby lesbians hope she’s got a wife (bars)

bonus: teacher: cult leader is too easy so we’ll go with “local guy who runs a shop selling crystals he bought from china at a 500% markup. he pretends they’re sustainably/ethically/lovingly sourced and guaranteed to cure your depression/anxiety/adhd but you both know he’s full of it”

[another-delta-lover]

YAP [RANT] TO ME ABT HEAVY!!!!!

HE'S SO FUCKING PERFECT.

I get MAD when people simp for medic bc, I understand, tumblr insane sexy man blabla yadda yadda IDGAF

You all CAN'T SEE HOW MUCH OF A PERFECT PERSON HE IS. He's such a good person, he's such a good son and older brother, doin the dishes for his mama, caring about the absolute safety of his sisters, LITERALLY SAVING EM FROM A THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LIKE, IDK FUCKIN <20< ??? HE'S SUCH A GOOD FAMILY MEMBER. HE WOULD PROTECT U SO WELL AND ALWAYS CARE ABOUT UR SAFETY. AUGH ES UN HOMBRE Q RESUELVE LO JURO. HE ALSO RISKS HIS LIFE TO HAVE MONEY FOR THEM??? AAAAAAAAAAA. He does enjoy his job a lot (WHICH I LOVE IN SOMEONE. HELL YEAH ENJOY UR JOB AND GET WELL PAID), But the main reason of him working is just for his family and the money to help them. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?????

Also HE'S SUCH A GOOD TEAMMATE???? HE WILL PROTECT ALL OF HIS TEAM WITHOUT FEAR AND WIN??? AND ALL HE NEEDS IS SOME CUNTY GAY ASS GERMAN DUDE BEHIND HIM??. He could be such a good grandpa/father figure or even just a really good n close friend to all the mercs, but even so, he acts so cold so quiet and mysterious around em🤭

AND ALSO!!! His masculinity ain't broken by showing love to his teammates??? He can hug em and literally yell to them "I LOVE YOU" from across the map??? Sayin "I LOVE YOU DOKTOR!!" Isn't common between men, even less in that time. If he IS gay, good for him! If he isn't, I'm glad he can express how much he loves someone without the fear of lookin weak is something I admire soso muchhh.

He has a minigun the SIZE OF MY FUCKIN BODY THAT HE CAN CARRY RUNNING WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PROBLEM??? HE COULD CARRY ME AROUND LIKE A STICK AND WOULDN'T EVEN AAHAGAJSHDHAGSH DO YOU REALIZE HE TAKES CARE OF THAT GUN LIKE SHE WAS HIS CHILD??? HE'S A GOOD FUCKING PARENT TOO?? AAAHHHH IM NORMAL

He's a good cook, he cooks really nice meals and doesn't mind to share u some, which I wouldn't do bc I don't share my food. HESO NICE AUGHH. I LOVE IT WHEN MA BOI COOKS😭😭😭 IDK WHY THAT MAKES PEOPLE MORE ATTRACTIVE FOR ME.

Also, HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY???????? IDGAF HE'S BALD, THAT'S THE BEST PARTY. HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO PRETTY N HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS ARE SO SILLYY

LOOK AT HIM!!!! AUGHHH

Also his body is so JAHSLAHDJQHDJALSH he so big so perfect😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 His arms are the size of my whole body. AND HIS HANDS AAAAAAAAAA. He so FAT I LOVE HIM. I need him to crush me un a hug so badly. U all don't understand how much of a good body that could be in a relationship. U cold? U hug him problems gone. U wanna be cozy at night but the pillow is too small? He's the biggest pillow and he can hug u back that's soNSHSJAVDJSHD. He can carry u in his arms when u tired, u can lay on his chest and everything.... sighhh.... AND ALSO HE CAN FIGHT A BEAR WITH HIS BARE FISTS AND WIN, THEN EAT IT???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT IS????? LIKE HOLY FUCK THAT'S LIKE THE PEAK OF MANLINESS FOR ME. The question "would u rather be in a forest with a man or with a bear" I'M CHOOSING THIS BEAR HOLY FUCK HE WOULD PROTECT ME FROM THE BEARS.

ALSO HIS VOICE OH GOD HIS VOICE. It's such a loud and strong voice in English 🤭 even tho he isn't the best at it (me neither), HE SPEAKS IN SUCH A WAY IT MAKES ME KICK MY FEET GIGGLE AND CRY. I need him to say nice stuff to me with his cool asf voice. And when IT'S IN RUSSIAN AHHH😩~ I SWEAR He's such an elegant and polite man😭😭😭 he sounds so professional and ajsvqkebalhdmaoevs And IDC what u all say to me, he could sing so perfectly<3 for me his dialogs of him singing are well sung/GEN. I just imagine him singing:

To me.... Ik the song is kinda sad and not very romantic but IDC HE WOULD SOUND SO PERFECTLY.

HE HAS A PHD IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE LIKE....... HE'S SO FUCKING SMART. HE'S ALSO PRETTY FUCKIN RICH??? IT COST 400,000 DOLLARS TO FIRE HIS WEAPON FOR 12 SECONDS???? AND I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IF HE KNOWS THAT HE'S 1. really fucking smart 2. THE ONE WHO PAYS??? Even if he wasn't rich I still love him a lot but I'm poor so that would make it slightly better. AND ALLTHE MONEY TO HIS FAMILY MOSTLY AUGHHH ALSHAKSHAKDHA

Also his COSMETICS. HIS FUCKING COSMETICS ARE SO HOT AAAAAAA. Most of em are normal silly hats but WHEN THEY AREN'T. OHMY GOD THOSE DARK GLOVES GOT MY LEGS SHAKIN. AND HAVE YOU SEEN HIM IN SUITS??? OH GOD AUGHHH. Not into mafia people n stuff BUT.... FOR HIM I MAKE A BIG AHH EXCEPTION. And also, i want to point out the fact that HE WEARS DRESSES. I shouldn't make it a big dear but DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT'S THE 60's-70's???? AND HE'S A BIG RUSSIAN MAN???? He broke the gender dressing codes of the time not only bc he's a man wearing dresses, but a BIG MAN WEARING THEM??? AND A RUSSIAN MAN??? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME????💔💔💔💔 Also his hats are cute I like them.

Just to summary:

Medic < HEAVY!!!

Good person I general, son, older brother, teammate, friend, father and possible partner, risking his life for his family.

He doesn't think lovin teammates is weird or GAY. Unless he is, but honestly good for him

STRONG AS HELL. AJGAJAHDJA

GOOD COOK!!!!

PRETTY!!!!!PRETTY REALLY PRETTY!!! HANDSOME

GORGEOUS FREAKING BODY.

FOUGHT WITH A BEAR AND WON

VOICE OF AN ANGEL!!!!

SMART AND RICH??? AND HE DESERVES TO BE RICH.

AMAZING STYLE.

DOESN'T CARE ABOUT GENDER NORMS.

YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. AAAGHHHHH ILOVEHIM YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU DON'T YOU CAN'T YOU YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[drdemonprince]

doctor demon prince im in my 5th year of undergrad suffering from functional freeze and Cant Write Papers disease (subtype where i eventually write it 7 months later and its really good for how rushed it is). ive also been doing unmasking work and trying to make progress w my nervous system and my relationships, i still have a long way to go . im going to graduate eventually (who fucking knows when) but with a pretty shit gpa.

Anyway my question is why the fuck do i keep wanting to get a masters degree when i know this setting sucks real bad for me. i love 2 learn but either dont have a handle on my adhd/autistic workflow yet or simply dont have the combination of traits it takes to succeed in academia. and i have student loans. i probably wont be accepted to any masters programs anyway but i dont know what else to do !!!!!!!!!!! 🙃 seeing as this is the transgender autistic grad student website maybe u or some of ur followers have advice for me..... 🫶 ok thank u byeee

I'm sorry to have to say this, but why do you want to go to graduate school? It will drive you deeply into debt, cause you a huge amount of stress, subject you to a wildly inaccessible environment where student neurodivergences are often unfairly cast as signs of laziness and lack of academic potential, and, in a majority of fields, it doesn't lead to improved career prospects (typically, the equivalent amount of time spent working in your chosen profession will get you just as far, if not farther, than a graduate degree).

I don't recommend graduate school to almost anyone. Graduate school was a stigmatizing, exhausting, abusive, exploitative, traumatizing experience for me that left me profoundly socially isolated and physically sick, and trained me in an increasingly irrelevant and scientifically unsound field that basically does nothing but regurgitate neoliberal truisms back to the elites that already believe in them.

Some of the faults I've just listed don't apply to *every* academic field in the world -- but it does apply to most of them!

I think it's important for people to know that Master's degree programs are, by and large, created as a revenue source for universities. Undergraduate enrollment has hit a wall -- there's only so many more people who can go to college, in a world where college has become increasingly obligatory, college pays off professionally far less than it used to, and in times of low unemployment there's very little reason to go to school -- and so the possibility of growing undergraduate enrollment has become more and more thin. This means universities have been unable to turn growing profits for years. And that's what matters to them -- profits.

Left without the revenue source of more college students' tuitions, universities have turned toward courting repeat customers -- duping college graduates who are unhappy with their post-graduate career prospects by investing in even more school. In most Master's degree programs, there are very high fees, very limited financial aid, and very very limited mentorship (compared to, say PhD programs, where shepherding you through the program is at least an advisor's duty).

I've worked in higher ed administration for years now and I've seen how disposable Master's degree students are taken to be -- they're paying for a pricey credential and they get very little out of it, in the end -- in most programs, and most contexts. When we need to fill a budget gap, we create a new Master's program -- without regard for whether it is necessary, and without ever being able to prove it will aid our graduates in getting jobs, or even that the degree will fill a necessary niche.

You can feel free to write back to me if yours is a field where a master's degree is necessary or yields positive career outcomes for a great many people (social work and athletic training come to mind). But even still, I don't think you should subject yourself to a completely inaccessible environment that you are already struggling in and taking on more debt to do so. You deserve better than that. And 99% of graduate programs will not do right by you.

If you'd like to read more about just how exploitative graduate programs generally are, and why, I recommend Karen Kelsky's book The Professor is In, or her blog of the same name:

[mirrorball-leclerc]

paint the town red - part one

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA

series masterlist

liked by peterbparker, harleykeener, queenshuri and others

biancastark_potts 'all the rumors are true'

view all comments

username bestie which driver will you be the race engineer for?

username is sebastian coming back? tell me that rumor is true

tonystark you're supposed to be working!

↳ biancastark_potts i am working. ask anyone. except harley, he'll lie to you.

↳ harleykeener she's being no help! spanish was not one of my public school requirements. i don't think i am qualified for this job.

↳ peterbparker I CAN SPEAK SPANISH! LET ME BE SAINZ'S RACE ENGINEER!

↳ harleykeener YOU FOCUS ON YOUR PHYSICS! LET ME HAVE THIS PARKER!

↳ biancastark_potts dad literally made you social media admin for the offical ferrari account. a mistake on his part truly.

↳ tonystark i regret everything now.

username so, stark will be race engineer for leclerc and keener for sainz?

↳ username an iconic group truly and i know nothing about this keener kid

↳ harleykeener i got a stark internship because i made a potato gun for tony one time when i was a child.

liked by biancastark_potts, harleykeener, and peterbparker and other

scuderiaferrari meet ferrari's newest race engineers. bianca stark-potts (24) (left) will become charles leclerc's new race engineer, replacing xavier marcos. while harley keener (20) (right) will become carlos sainz' new race engineer, replacing riccardo adami. these two will also be taking on the roles of lead engineers for our cars and they know they can deliver a championship winning car. these two are excited to be taking on the world of formula one.

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📍peterbparker this was all proofread by mrs. pepper stark-potts. i would've gone with something like 'out with the old in with the new.' but apparently that's not professional or something.

username ferrari is about to become the most attractive team on the grid. i take no complaints.

↳ username no you're absolutely right.

username what exactly are their qualifications to becoming an f1 driver's race engineer?

↳ username bianca is an MIT and columbia graduate, she has a phd in mechanical engineering and a masters in electrical engineering. harley is a columbia graduate with a masters in mechanical engineering and studying at MIT for a masters in computer science and engineering. if anything they're overqualified for the job. they've also developed few of the suits tony stark's uses. definitely more qualified than ricciardo and xavier.

↳ username that doesn't matter, we'll finally have a decent car and might even win the drivers/constructors championships.

charles_leclerc welcome to the team!

↳ biancastark_potts thanks, happy to be here!

↳ harleykeener thank you, even if i'm not your race engineer.

carlossainz55 bienvenidos!

↳ harleykeener gracias, mi amigo. (i don't speak spanish that well. we'll both be struggling through this, as you saw last week.)

↳ biancastark_potts good luck with him. thanks for the welcome!

liked by biancastark_potts, charles_leclerc, and peterbparker and other

scuderiaferrari you knew him as 4x world champion of red bull, you knew him as a ferrari driver, now you'll know him as ferrari's new team principal. ladies, gentleman, and non-binary folks, the formidable sebastian vettel is back!

view all comments

📍peterbparker not added was 'sorry not sorry we took your golden boy red bull' again, mrs. pepper potts-stark said that was unprofessional so i was forbidden from adding that. the urge to add a multi-21 joke in there was strong but i resisted.

↳ maxverstappen1 no need to rub it in. christian is crying. (i’m joking, he’s upset)

↳ peterbparker TU-TU-DU-DU MAX VERSTAPPEN!! (get me oscar piastri's number)

↳ maxverstappen1 no.

↳ peterbparker i'll settle for lando norris if you want. don't worry i'm not after either of your men (charles and danny)

↳ maxverstappen can i get you fired?

↳ biancastark_potts i've been trying since 2018 when he walked into my life. all i achieved was my parents emotionally adopting him.

username i fucking love this new ferrari admin. they're unhinged.

↳ peterbparker thanks, pepper does not find it as amusing. i've been told to keep it 'professional' until the season begins then i'm allowed to be unhinged.

username HE'S BACK! I KNEW RETIREMENT WOULDN'T LAST LONG.

username please tell me he is still caring for his bees. seb and his bees is iconic

↳ peterbparker proud to announce that seb and his bees will continue. we will be bringing awareness to the bees with every race. seb's buzzin' corner for every race? MR. STARK MAKE IT HAPPEN!

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and tonystark and other

scuderiaferrari mood cause we're back! preseason testing begins in two days!

view all comments

📍peterbparker i'm allowed to shit post now people! the ban has been lifted! WAR IS OVER!

↳ peterbparker I'VE BEEN FOUND BY PIERRE GASLY. NOOO! HOW COULD I HAVE BECOME A VICTIM SO SOON?

username admin is acting like a teenager

↳ peterbparker i'm 20.

↳ maxverstappen1 that explains it.

↳ peterbparker so about piastri's number...

↳ maxverstappen1 no.

↳ harleykeener you have a girlfriend parker.

↳ peterbparker she doesn't need to know

↳ michellejones this is a public instagram post

username let's hope stark industries can deliver with all the hype surrounding them taking over ferrari's f1 team.

↳ username i just hope they aren't being overhyped, because if they fail to deliver they'll be such a dissapointment.

¡leclerc-s speaks! you can blame charles' shitty race for this story. other than that we won't speak further on the events of the us grand prix (i'm living in delusion) (congrats to logan for scoring his first points and congrats to williams for their double points!) i had been wanting to do a mcu x formula one crossover but i didn't have the motivation to do so until now (you can guess why).

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt I

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

A/N: No Beta readers for any of my fics, so apologies for spelling mistakes. I wrote this originally on AO3, and it's still a work in progress. As with my other fics, I'll be uploading here and there when I get inspo

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 2

-----------------------

Your mind trails off to the strangest of things when you’re nervous. You’re staring out the window pane, and there’s a small robin, hopping from branch to branch. It’s entrancing in a way. Do robins have little bird interviews for their little bird jobs? Or does everyone simply know what their role is, without having to apply for it? Collect the sticks, eat some bugs, and raise the young. Simple little bird jobs for simple little birds.

But then the woman in front of you clears her throat and you snap back to reality. Lisa Cuddy stares at you, but it’s not coldly like some interviewers may have. She smiles and you are flashed with her rows of perfect, white and straight teeth. Across from her, you feel underdressed, and not only in the literal sense. Some light makeup, to hide the fact that you hadn’t slept the previous night due to nerves, form-fitting but very obviously last-season pants, and a coat that you had quickly folded onto the chair beside you, to hide the tea stain down its front. But outside of that, she held a certain properness and professionalism you hadn’t mastered yet.

Despite that, she had beamed across your resume, congratulated you on your achievements, and told you that the job was almost ‘as good as yours’. She did, however, warn you. You would have another, more unofficial, interview to complete with your team leader before you began work. With the infamous Gregory House.

She inhaled, and it whistled through her nose. “Now, can I trust you to give you the very blunt run down of House, without you screaming and running for the hills? Because I think you need to know, while this job is incredibly hard and taxing…You may find he’s the worst part of it.”

You laughed politely. “I’m sure he’s not that bad. I once had a boss who had me make him coffee and lunch for three weeks straight after I had completed my PhD. He said it was a ‘chance for me to relax’,” You gesture air quotes, “before I got into serious work.”

Cuddy pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. As condescending as that is, House is worse than that.”

She must have seen your eyes widen because she quickly waves her hands in front of herself. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s brilliant, and, don’t pass this on to him, one of the best doctors you will ever work with. But…He can be rude. Egotistical. Infuriating. There are some days when he will make you feel pathetic and exhausted and other days when he will make you feel like you’ve discovered the secret to medicine. I’m not saying this to scare you, but rather I think you need to know that the people who are able to manage House and manage to work under him, do so with a lot of patience, humour, and resilience.”

You nod your head, and your brow furrows in seriousness. “I understand. Regardless of how he treats me, this is honestly an opportunity that I can’t pass up. I’m not going to let someone else ruin that for me.”

She beams at you. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You smile back at her, and she begins to shuffle papers on her desk and sort them into a stack. When they’re ordered into a neat pile, she looks back to you. “Rather than an interview, House will see this as a test. He will try to push your buttons. Make you nervous; worried. Don’t let him. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’re smart,” You find yourself flushing at the honesty she seems to hold in her words. Cuddy was genuine and seemed like someone you could trust. That would be important if House was as bad as she made him out to be. “And he will try to make you all the more miserable for it.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “At least I’ll have time to prepare myself. What day would you like me to come in next?”

She winces and hands you the stack of papers (perhaps some miscellaneous files and formalities that you’ll investigate later, in private). “There won’t be another day, I’m afraid. He’ll be expecting you by his office following this.”

You breathe out, but afraid to seem well…Afraid, in front of Cuddy, you grit out a smile. “That’s perfectly fine. Sometimes it’s better to rip the bandaid off sooner, rather than later. Can you please direct me to his office?”

—--------

You feel your stomach plummet when you leave the elevator and begin walking down the hallway, clutching at your files as you do so.

Your short heels still manage to clack against the tiled floor as you walk. You pause and peer into a glass office. Sure enough, beside the door is a small plaque reading Dr G.House. Your hands reach for the doorknob, but it’s locked and you can’t push through. You peer into the office and see an empty desk, among other things.

It appeared the G.House was not home. So much for Cuddy’s warning that he would be waiting for you.

You breathe in deeply and scan around you. There are four or so chairs across from you, lining the side of the hallway, and sprawled across one of them is a man, staring right at you. You smile, half out of politeness and half out of awkwardness, and move to sit on the furthest seat. You settle down your papers, but when you look back, the man is turned and still staring. He has cropped, greying hair and steely blue eyes, and you quickly skim over him. Worn out jeans. A shirt with some sort of stain on it. A scuffed, dark cane resting beside him. Ratty trainers. At least he didn’t have the professionalism or poise that Cuddy carried around.

You realise you’ve stared a second past the respectful amount and you smile, fully out of awkwardness. “I don’t suppose you’re waiting for Dr House too?”

“Me?,” He raises an eyebrow, “Noo, I just like to wait outside his office as a pastime. See if I can conjure him through my psychic powers alone.”

You snort and raise your hands to your face quickly. “Well, do you know when he’ll be back?”

The man clicks his tongue. “Not at all. He doesn’t seem to care at all for punctuality, especially for…Who are you? A new hire?”

You tilt your head at him. “How’d you guess?”

He mimics you, tilting his head in the same direction. “You don’t look sick enough to be a patient, or tired enough to be a worker. Then there’s only the patient's family, new hire, or hooker to choose from. And no offence,” He trails his eyes down your form. “You don’t dress the part for the last option.”

You bark out a laugh at his incredulous words, shocked. “God. I’d hate to see the new hire who does.”

You’re happy to turn from the man and count the minutes until the infamous House appears, but the man draws your attention back to him with a question. “Why do you want to work with him?”

You squint your eyes at him. “And why do you want to know? Weren’t you the one to say that sitting here means you’re sick, a worker, a new hire, or a hooker?”

He nods, and his eyes appear calculating for a second. But then they’re masked and replaced with a forced smile “Yes, I did. As you can tell from my wicked cane, I’m a cripple hooker. I charge $200 for the hour, by the way. $300 and I’ll bring out the wheelchair.”

You can’t help but smile. Its funny, in a very twisted way. But you breathe deeply and try to compose yourself. You had never met someone as strange or bold as this man, but you supposed hospitals were the perfect place to find such specimens. The perfect mix of medicine, death and life, and you were produced with nutjobs.

“I’ve heard he’s a brilliant doctor-”

“And incredibly rude. I saw him the other week for the pain in my leg, and he just shoved a Vicodin bottle in my hand and called me an addict.”

You sighed. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. While I’m sorry to hear of his bedside manner, there are certain things I’m willing to go without in trade for working with him. I’ll deal with any rudeness or arrogance if it means I’m able to learn from him and contribute to his team.”

Now it’s the man who snorts out a laugh. “You’ll deal with being disrespected and abused just so you can be the ‘teacher's pet’ of medicine?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No! Obviously, I’m going to stand up for myself and my own morals. But I think to some degree, people are set in their ways; if he is, I’ll learn to work around it, rather than break through it.” You huff, “And I won’t be a ‘teacher’s pet’. Been there, done that; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

The man says nothing, and you turn to him, waiting for a witty reply or another snarky hooker joke, but then another man strolls up to the two of you. He has tousled brown hair, dark eyes and a strikingly white lab coat. House.

You stand up quickly and offer your hand. He shakes it, and you introduce yourself.

He smiles at you, with a sincereness that nearly startles you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re the new hire? I’m James Wilson, head of Oncology here.”

Oh. So not House.

You stutter for a moment but compose yourself. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were Dr House. Let me know if this is completely out of your ballpark then, but we’ve,” You gesture over your shoulder to the man still sitting down, “been waiting here for Dr House. Could you please point me in the right direction? He wasn’t in his office.”

The man raises his eyebrows at you, and you’re worried you said something to offend him -not like you made a hooker comment about him- but then he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, the same way Cuddy did. “House, would you like to introduce yourself to your new hire?”

Your eyebrows narrow. “I’m sorry, what?” Who was he talking to?

But then there’s the slight tap of a cane against the floor, and the man beside you rises to his full height.

You turn to him, perplexed, and he mockingly widens his eyes and raises his free hand to his mouth in faux shock. “Whoops! I forgot I transferred from being a Cripple Hooker to being a doctor. Don’t worry, I still charge the same rate.”

He shuffles past you, limping, and into his office. Wilson remains beside you, and he shakes his head, eyes cast upwards. “You’ll get used to him. Just don’t let him hassle you too much or he’ll get used to that.”

You turn to thank him for the warning, but House clears his throat loudly from within his office, and sits down at the wooden desk as if to say ‘well hurry up then’. Meekly, you gather your notes, tell Dr Wilson it was nice to meet him, and walk into the office to sit across from House

He stares at you, the same way he stared at you out in the hallway, and you find yourself prompted to speak first. “So, Dr House. While it’s nice to formally meet you, I’m wondering if it wasn’t for Dr Wilson, were we just going to sit outside and trade hooker jokes for the next few hours?”

His eyebrows narrow. “You don’t need to lie.”

“What?”

“It’s not nice to meet me.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve met me before. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

He runs his hands down his worn face and continues to speak. “I have your resume. Your, quite frankly, startling long list of academic achievements and medical mumbo jumbo. I could give less of a hoot about those things; they won’t help you here. Awards and experience and acting like you give a shit is Cuddy’s forte, not mine.”

You find yourself puzzled about how to reply, but he saves you the effort and continues speaking, first drawing out your last name in a long drawl. “You seem intelligent and as if you lack a backbone. Both are necessary things for my team. But,” He stares intently at you, “Why do you want to work here? With me? On this team?”

You suck in air. “Well, as I said earlier, you’re brilliant. I know your cases and I know the work you’ve done. To put it blatantly, you’ve saved lives where others would have prepped the morgue. I want to know how to do that, and how to become the best doctor I can be.”

He laughs. “Being a suck-up isn’t a requirement for being a good doctor.”

“Neither is being an arsehole, but you seem to have that covered.”

Shit. Shit. Did you really just say that? To your boss? God, he was infuriating yes, and rude and-Oh. This was what Cuddy was warning you about. Losing your cool in face of his taunts and remarks. Well, low and behold, you lost your cool.

He narrows his eyes and leans forward to rest his head on his steepled hands. “Do you usually call people names during interviews or just the ones where you don’t want the job?”

You huff, exasperated. “I want this job. Hell, I need this job.”

“Everyone needs a job. Everyone has bills. But you’re avoiding the question.”

Your jaw clenches. “Well, not everyone has tenure. And, to answer your question, I only call people names during interviews because you made an incorrect assumption about me; I do have a backbone.”

He leans back in his chair and studies you. “Snarkiness isn’t a backbone. It’s a defence mechanism, sure, but a backbone would be walking out of here and knowing that your worth as a doctor means you shouldn’t be disrespected like that.”

Staring into his icy eyes, you speak. “You’ve got to ask me question after question. Am I a hooker? Why do I want to work with you? Now, I’m going to ask you a question. Why are we doing this?”

“Well sweetheart, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this amazing thing, but there’s an interview you have before you start a job to see if you’re suited to-”

“No. I mean why are you ‘interviewing’ me if you’ve already made up your mind?”

At that, he stays silent. Confirmation. You get the sense that if he hadn’t made his decision even before you saw him, he made it the second you sat down outside. Maybe it was the way you walked, or the awkward smile you passed to him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t give less of a shit about your credentials; or you.

You nod and gather your things again. “Thank you for your time, Dr House. Please pass my regards to Cuddy.”

You reach the door before he speaks again. “You didn’t ask me what my decision was.”

You huff. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

“You’re hired.”

Oh.

[bedlamsbard]

I inarguably had two big professional accomplishments this year (PhD, tenure track job), but man, it mostly just feels like I survived them rather than actually accomplishing them. I know both of those things, especially together, are a Big Deal, but honestly it didn't super feel like it at the time because I was really emotionally fraught about the job offer (this is why I spent a month crying back in spring; I do like the job and the other members of my department, but I really, really did not want to move to SD) and the dissertation, as much as I love my topic, was extremely chaotic near the end. I don't think I said this here, but my advisor signed off on it in July and then I didn't hear from her again until September, which was really rough for me to deal with emotionally. also I moved cross-country, that was also an ordeal. I feel like I've been running behind on everything all year long, dropping balls left and right -- in spring I taught two classes at one institution, TAed a class at another institution, tutored at the Writing Center, was on the academic job market, had four campus visits, worked on my dissertation, and got one job offer; in summer I taught two classes, finished my dissertation, graduated with my PhD, moved cross-country, and started at my new institution a week after I'd turned in grades for my old one; in fall I taught three classes, presented at one conference, went to NYCC, and hung on by my fingernails. I didn't finish Home and in December I made my monthly word count goal for the first time since July. (this year's total (fiction) word count is probably around the 80K+ mark, but that's an estimate; I'm not going to check.) I haven't been on a real actual vacation in several years, I haven't finished a fanfic since 2022, and I'm probably on the edge of a minor nervous breakdown. but like. professionally I was successful by academia standards.

[wearenemies]

what do peterick each teach in this university lecturer au …. ?

this is a great and lovely question and i love you so much 👍 i would say patrick would be a constantly slightly wired music theory professor. i imagine that he’d come off as a little intimidating and strict, like he’d want to appear relatively professional and be as clearly good at his job as he can be, so i feel like he might be considered a little scary just by virtue of the fact that he’s mr professor guy, but if you catch him outside of class hours or email him for an extension and he’s totally the sweetest in lieu of pete’s ‘patrick looks like a teddy bear but really gets the fucking job done’. he’s mostly a lecturer but also does stuff with the school’s music societies (think conducting the college band and helping with the acapella group) i feel like he’s actively working on the most tedious sounding paper in the world but he’s SO excited about it and will take any opportunity to bring it up in conversation. i think he’d very rarely talk about his life outside of work because he’d like to ‘maintain a healthy work-life separation’ (plus he likes the drama of it) and thus he’s considered kind of an enigma. also pete bought him one of those ‘i have a phd (pretty huge dick)’ t shirts. he thinks he’s funny

pete would teach i think creative writing and he’d mostly do shorter workshops both for enrolled students and the wider local community (middle schools etc) focused more on getting people to enjoy the craft of writing something over doing it for a grade, but would still run regular traditional lectures and whatnot. he’d have a less traditionally professional professorial vibe than patrick, like he’d be wearing his big mohair cardigans and he’d be very forthcoming about his misguided youth in the hardcore scene and would frequently bring up and gush over his nameless partner. i imagine him being endearingly cringe in the how-do-you-do-fellow-kids manner and appearing a little frazzled and soft-spoken outside of his classes, because patrick has a significant leg up on him in the one-on-one conversation department. he’d always to an almost obnoxious degree be attempting to shill his bizarre novel but get bashful when it’s brought up to him <3

the way i imagine it being laid out as a piece of writing is focused on either a student who majors in some kind of music field and is taking one of pete’s shorter workshop classes as a supplemental credit because it looked fun, OR a relatively new co-worker of theirs. it’d take place over the course of around 3-4 months and primarily focus on this person’s ever so slightly unhealthy curiosity towards both the wider question of what patrick’s whole deal is outside of work and more specifically who on the faculty patrick is dating because he once made the mistake of letting slip that his partner worked at the same place as him <3 the conceit lies in the fact it’d be functionally completely unknown that they’re together amongst the student population and this would be maintained primarily through the fact that a) they seem very different in terms of their interests and behaviours b) they are rarely seen to interact because they teach mostly on different areas of campus c) patrick is crucially very private about his life and times d) pete despite otherwise being a total blabbermouth would refuse outright to speak on the subject because he loves and respects his special little man and e) 9/10 times it’s funnier to lie to people than it is to tell them the truth. so they’re functionally the pre-2019 dan and phil of chicago university lecturers

other facets of this universe include the fact that patrick has a bear pride flag sticker on his owala and his students struggle to discern whether or not he understands that it is in fact a pride flag sticker, and that pete keeps telling increasingly ambitious lies to his students about his life for the sake of his own sick entertainment. significantly, patrick won’t really be a singer: my vision for the backstory is that patrick did join pete and joe’s pop punk project but was too shy to do vocals and it fell apart after a few months but they all remained very close friends. i imagine that he does sing and does still have a beautiful voice, he’s just not really interested in doing anything with it 🫶

[howlsmovinglibrary]

hi, im sorry if this sounds stupid but like. how do you get your brain to switch from academia to fanfic. like when im done with my lab reports and finally have time to write i feel like a textbook mimicking human speech

hey anon! none of this is stupid at all, please don't feel bad for asking a question :)

i think i should preface by saying, I wasn't a girl in STEM. I'm an English lit girlie, so often my academic work got me thinking about stories, which made me want to write stories, and thinking about D&D which made BG3 the perfect outlet! I couldn't write a paper titled 'D&D vampires are weird, huh?' but I could write stories around those themes. So sometimes my fic just became a place for me to explore the stuff that interested me but had no place in my professional work, which obviously made it easy to generate ideas and content.

but I have my advice under the cut! (bc this accidentally became a long post lol).

what advice I can give, however, is advice that was given to me by another friend, who is also a PhD student. She said (in quite a clinical way, but that's the kind of person she is) that she saw her fic and her writing as 'building mastery' - which was something she'd learned in therapy. the idea that practising something and working at it makes you better at it but also makes you feel better about yourself, because you can find enjoyment in the hobby and see improvements in your work. she wrote fic, to see a progress and a learning curve she didn't see in academia.

Idk what STEM is like, but often my experience in academia left me feeling stupid or inadequate. everything I wrote there mattered, and it didn't always bring me joy. I actually started writing fic, because I had just finished my PhD funding applications, and after sinking 100+ hours into something that made me miserable, I just wanted to write words that were fun for a change.

it doesn't always feel like it, of course, but fic doesn't matter. it should be fun. it can be silly, it doesn't have to fit a wordcount, it can be whatever you want it to be and it's never getting assessed at the end. and - unlike academia - typically it only receives positive feedback. so I write fic, bc it doesn't make me feel like shit, even when academia does. it's a different ballgame, and it has a much lower stakes, and more forgiving relative curve. i like it, becuase i switch my brain off, and get to have fun and play around in a way i don't in acadeimia.

so I guess my advice for this particular question - other than "please rest", bc like the last person who asked me about this you sound a wee bit burned out beloved - is.... it's literally fine, if you sound like a human textbook. forget the words and how they're coming to you as you write them - are you having fun with the idea? do you like the positive feeling of writing them, and the positive feedback you get either from yourself or others? that's how i switch from academia into fic mode. I find something that i actually find recreationally enjoyable (lol, academia).

let go of all expectations, and just follow the story or plot noodle that itches the happy parts of your brain. don't let it be about quality at all.

and, in case I've misunderstood the question and this is actually more an issue of stylistics - my fic got wordier as a result of my academia. even worse, my ACADEMIA got wordier as a result of my fic!!! (when the adverb curse follows you into your day job lmao). I don't think there's any way to prevent crossing the streams. But you can be sillier in fic, so add some jokes! make the stupid reference! let everyone be a little less formal!

and, if all else fails, get a second pair of eyes :) maybe from someone outside of the institution. they can tell you if you've become a pretentious ass overnight or not x

[dalekowrites]

Are you a professional writer, or do you do something else for a living?

Haha, I wish! No, I do... a lot of things.

I used to be a modern languages teacher, but I left that job to start a PhD in English studies. It's tough, considering that between research, courses, and seminars, it takes up more time than a full-time job. I dedicate 8–10 hours a day to it, seven days a week!

On top of that, I write. I've done copywriting, content creation, video game writing, and even commissioned stories (mostly NSFW, if I'm being honest, lol). As for my personal projects, I used to write short stories, poems, and novels. I've put traditional writing on hold for now, though I'm waiting to hear back from a publisher about one of my shelved projects.

So my "second job" nowadays is writing interactive stories. I'm currently working on After Dark, The In-Between, and Hope Abides. I have to admit, it's tough—I have health issues that make it feel like I'm always playing life on hard mode, but I do my best.

Thanks for the question, I hope I've satisfied your curiosity!

[mania-sama]

oikawa always knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. from the moment he saw jose blanco when they were seven years old, he became certain that he would be a professional player. before he was old enough to understand how long it would take or how much energy it would require, oikawa was telling iwaizumi what number jersey he would wear on the national team.

iwaizumi loved volleyball. there was no question about it; he loved the weight against his fingers as he lightly tossed it in the air. he loved the green and brown bruises littering his arms, proving he fought and played well. he loved crouching on the court with five other people, waiting in bated breath to score the next point. he loved the sound the ball made when he spiked it to the ground with enough power to shake the net. he loved springing in the air and diving to the ground.

he loved watching his teammates glow with pride at every point earned, at every win. he loved having support during the hard losses. he loved oikawa, who threw himself so deeply into the sport that it made iwaizumi try that much harder, practice that much longer, want to win that much more.

but, he always knew his love came at a price.

he could see himself playing professionally. he knew that he'd only want to do it if oikawa would be on the court with him. he knew he was only as good as he was when the best high school setter in miyagi brought out his talents. he knew that, at the end of the day, his drive to be an Olympic athlete was crutched by his best friend.

oikawa had developed it alone, separate from iwaizumi. iwaizumi could recognize that, and that was what set them apart.

iwaizumi didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up. he threw around ideas in his head, every now and then. he knew he couldn't do a corporate job. he'd seen the way men fell asleep in bushes and in shops, never making it home, then waking up again to return to where they worked. it sounded like hell and misery, so he threw it out immediately. he supposed he wouldn't mind traveling the world, but he didn't know where he'd get the funds for that. he didn't care much for history or archaelogy, and those master's and phd's would be what would get him places. he even settled on the military for a time, if he really couldn't figure what he wanted from life by the time he graduated.

then, like dominos, everything began to fall into place. it started like this:

in his third year of middle school, he injured his wrist. he had to see the athletic trainer twice a week, for those were the days the trainer was available to assist the volleyball clubs. his mother was a nurse, so she made sure he kept up with his ice and stretches at home. he cared for himself and the trainer cared for him, coaching him through certain workouts and tracking his progress on a clipboard. he admired the trainer for the first time in his life. not because he was caring for iwaizumi specifically, but because iwaizumi was seeing all of it work. the ice, the workouts, the way his wrist gradually heals until he feels no pain anymore. he found himself curious about the clipboard, though he never asked.

oikawa overworked his ankle and twisted it in their first year of high school. iwaizumi's injury had been minor, but oikawa's was considerably worse. he limped as he walked, and iwaizumi went online and nearly keeled over when the results told him that oikawa would die in the next twenty-four days, that his ankle would never heal properly. mother iwaizumi was far more rational, and their trainer was available four of the five days of the work week, so oikawa was functionally okay. it didn't stop bothering iwaizumi, though. he was by oikawa's side the whole time despite their new friends', matsukawa and hanamaki, teasing. when oikawa allowed him, he examined the twisted ankle, pressing his fingers against the bone, carefully tracing the slightly discolored skin.

he started volunteering at the hospital when he could, though he found he didn't enjoy the atmosphere much. he saw charts, though. he started to get an idea of what was on the paper on the clipboard. that, he enjoyed. he enjoyed seeing patients walk away with grins at good news, and he eavesdropped on nurses and doctors discussing diagnoses he didn't fully understand. his favorites were the ones of athletes, good or bad. shin splints, they said with relief. tendonitis. dislocation. a torn acl, they gasped after coming out of a screaming girl's room.

someone caught wind of his volunteering. during a training camp, a fidgeting player from a different team corners him outside. he asked if iwaizumi had anything, anything, anything at all, though preferably xanax. please, man, he begged. i know you work at a hospital. i'll pay you back. i just- i think somebody stole mine out of my bag a while ago. i can't get through this weekend. hook me up? iwaizumi denied him, told him to get help, told a trusted adult because although he knew it was "uncool" and he was a "snitch", the kid was shaking and knee-deep in drug addiction, and iwaizumi couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried. his skin burned from where the guy grabbed him to plead. his tongue was dry from when he tried to gently let him down the first time. his head hurts from the idea betraying his peers, even though he knew they would cover his ass if he had alcohol on him.

they lose to shiratorizawa for the second time in high school, and oikawa tried to get himself another overworked limb. iwaizumi shouted, and shouted, and shouted, and he dragged oikawa out of the gym more nights than not. he sat with him when oikawa was determined to give himself dry-eye from watching volleyball matches all hours of the day. he kept oikawa going.

that addict player died over an overdose over the summer, the news hitting him at the same time as the rest of the miyagi volleyball community. and he started to understand. he understood the way the kid - for though he was older than iwaizumi, he was still just a kid - would react slowly to block the ball, or how he would twitch before his serve. he understood the first time oikawa hurt his ankle, how it had been nothing like iwaizumi’s wrist injury, or how taking xanax during a training camp was nothing like camping out in a basement with a couple of friends and a case of cheap liquor store beer.

on the first full day back to school in their second year, hanamaki pulled iwaizumi aside and said that matsukawa had passed out briefly on the train ride over. iwaizumi didn't know what to do, necessarily, or what it could mean that matsukawa passed out for seemingly no reason, but he decided to keep an eye out. he watched him at practice. watched the way he was slow to block, blinking blearily, swaying on his feet. it could be sleep deprivation, but matsukawa had said he wasn't tired. his second thought was of that player the year prior. he watched, and as much as it pained him, he waited. he waited until they could all get ramen together, because for one reason or another matsukawa found a reason to bail out of after-school food runs. when matsukawa got up to use the bathroom after finishing his food, iwaizuimi waited one, two, three, ten seconds to follow, similarly excusing himself. he listened to matsukawa heave and wretch, and he sat there until matsukawa came out, one hand hastily wiping his mouth. he froze when he saw iwaizumi, and it must've been something on his face, must've been the memory of how he failed to help a kid who was now six feet underground, because matsukawa broke down into tears. i can't stop. i can't, he said. i need to do this to be better at volleyball. i can't gain more weight. it'll bring me down. don't make me stop.

iwaizumi made him do one thing: see the athletic trainer. he got the athletic trainer to give them advice on a diet that would both build muscle and increase their overall health. iwaizumi sent matsukawa on his way with a detailed regimen, but he himself stayed behind with the trainer. he asked, doing his best to remain neutral: which do you think is more important? mental health or physical injuries?

after a while of deliberation, he got received the trainers honest answer. physical injuries. athletes can get severely stressed and disordered after even a minor injury.

iwaizumi nodded. how do i become an athletic trainer?

go to school, the trainer said, smiling. study hard.

taking that to heart, he left. he left with a plan: to go to university, study hard, and write a paper proving that trainer wrong. his paper would be on the psychology behind sports injuries, how its the state of an athelete's mental health that causes injuries. he would then work as an athletic trainer, and he wouldn't let a kid like oikawa overwork themselves, or kids like that player accost underclassmen and overdose, or kids like matsukawa avoid food and expel what little they consumed. because they all wanted one thing. to play better, to be better. and iwaizumi wanted to be there for them, to tell them that a game wasn't worth their lives.

he wanted to be there for the middle school kid with a wrist injury, whos only wish was to keep playing with his best friend.

iwaizumi studied hard. he researched and researched, and he kept volunteering at the hospital even though he hated the smell of sterile rooms and the miserable faces of interns and residents and the floor that housed most of the terminally ill. he shadowed the trainer as they worked with other seijoh clubs when he had the time. he worked, and he cared for oikawa and his various discreet attempts at overworking himself to death.

in his third year of high school, an acceptance letter from the university of california, his top choice of school, arrives at his front door with a full-ride scholarship.

[libraford]

I have mixed feelings about the term 'self taught.' Because yes, I did go to art school and I took a single course in watercolor and a single course in photography. And I took several courses in drawing, which guide my multimedia pieces.

But none of these things were my major. My major was in Animation, which is something that I don't really do anymore because of reasons.

I'm self taught in floristry, even though I worked for a flower shop. I was doing silk floral work before then, which informed my decisions in that career.

I was an intern for a photographer a few years back and she showed me how to do certain types of photography, but action photography is something I've been figuring out for myself. They did teach us some things in training at the school photo job, but it no one taught me how to do sports candids. I taught myself that.

So like there's a lot of people in the area that are 'proud autodidacts' (a person who is self-taught) and there's a whole community and there's interviews and there's art shows for people who are 'outsider artists.' Outsider art provides fresh perspectives on a medium that we wouldn't see in academia.

It gets granular.

I taught myself some things, but not all things. I developed a passion for something and then sought out the instruction of professionals, but I did not go to school for the things that I'm most known for (painting, photography) and then used their instruction as a guide to do what I wanted, but more efficiently.

There's a sense that its one or the other. You are either self taught or you went to school for it. But that doesn't offer a lot of wiggle room for people like me who had on the job experience with some foundational learning in the arts. Like... where on the spectrum of 'self taught' to 'PhD in Fine Arts' does 'spent a year and a half carrying photo equipment around the park for my neighbor' fall?

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Surrounding Characters: Carter

Age: Unknown

Occupation: scientific researcher

Workplace: Xander Sciences (a research institute)

Education:

Skyhaven University Medical School

Dropped out, did not get his doctorate

(Important Clarification Note: Both MDs and PhDs are specific types of doctorate degrees! MD means "Doctor of Medicine" and is a professional doctorate degree. PhD means "Doctor of Philosophy" and is a research-oriented doctorate degree.)

Details:

Is often referred to as "Dr. Carter", despite not completing his doctorate degree

Speaks about conquering death with an almost religious fervor

Speculation: Possibly religious (based on numerous references to "God" and "God's mission")

Attended Skyhaven University’s Medical School while Zayne was also a student

While in medical school, was Zayne's senior and labmate

Outperformed Zayne in the theoretical model of this research back in school (though his application of it never went as smoothly)

Desperately wanted to know what Zayne discovered, why he intentionally destroyed his contribution, and then stopped researching it

After Zayne abandoned it, brought their joint Medical School project to Xander Sciences under the name "X-Heart”

Update! As of the most recent story update, we now know what Carter looks like!

Relationship with Zayne:

They disagreed on the ethics of applying Protocore technology to revive dead cells

Was trying to convince Zayne to leave Akso Hospital and join him at Xander Sciences

When trying to recruit Zayne, he hid a Trojan horse in the medical record he sent him

Believes Zayne will never change, no matter how the world changes

Considered Zayne his "stubborn junior"

After failing to recruit/convince Zayne, he questions the pursuit of Zayne altogether. “What he really needs is not a like-minded colleague, but a pair of hands. Ones that can carry out God's mission and allow for God's descent. Zaynes hands.”

Interest in Protaganist:

Remembered Zayne became a doctor because of a girl. Suspected he was taking over Dr. Noah's work.

Considers the girl as the key to getting Zayne. As long as he has that mysterious girl, he knows he'll always have Zayne's skilled hands.

Wonders if that girl is even more interesting than his research patients. Maybe her value to X-Heart would far exceed that of Zayne's.

Relationship with Dr. Noah:

Dr. Noah often refers with a sense of disappointment, frustration, annoyance, or regret? Some unspoken negative sentiment:

“That boy, Carter…Nevermind”

(When seaking of the excited First-Year Medical Students after the oath ceremony): “William and Carter were like this too. Nevermind.”

(When resolving the consequences of Zayne intentionally deleting his part of their research): “Quiet, boy.” [pushes Carter behind him] “I'll handle this. Let the students go first.”

Notable Quotes:

[Sarcasm] "Tell me, is the natural law an unshakeable moral boundary? Or is it just a comforting phrase people use?"

(To Zayne): "Xander Sciences doesn't want to see a genius like you be forgotten. The Evol technology you're insisting on is so last year. No one wants an artificial lump that needs to be charged in their heart now. Protocore tech is the golden brick that will pave the way to the future."

(To Zayne): "My skills are nothing compared to you and Dr. Noah's. I can't be as meticulous and efficient as you.”

(To Zayne): "Dr. Noah thinks highly of you, you know. He would mention you to me and Will all the time back then. It made us really curious about you before we met."

(In response to the news of Dr. Williams death on Mt. Eternal): "Mt. Eternal, huh… The view's good, but there was an anomaly with the Wanderers a few years ago-. Wait, aren't you here to join us?”

(To Zayne): "Our job is to save people. If we can control life and death, why shouldn't we?!”

(To Zayne): "Do you remember how happy everyone was when the experiment worked? It was like a message left by God, and now we can finally respond! Zayne, do you believe in God?”

“Zayne, you should know you’re rejecting a path to life's truth. My answer hasn't changed either. I've always believed death is just a small obstacle. It can be overcome in due time.”