#okay okay okay I just need to get into grad school this is great

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

PRAISE BE TO GOD

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | ten.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, the dots are being connected!! soooo many run-ins and slip-ups 😭, alcohol consumption and intoxication, someone gets a lil too aggressive with oc, confrontation, some pushing / getting in each other’s faces lol, someone actually catches san x oc—OOP, namjoon is stressed, jongho too actually lmao, lots of assumptions, sorry if i missed anything!!

"So, how was it?" Jiung asks, walking alongside of you as the two of you slowly walk over to the Gates Biology Building, where Yunho's class was being held. You sip on your cup of coffee, dragging your feet while you look ahead to the building in view.

"What, the conference?" Jiung nods. "It was okay! Nothing too fancy."

"You didn't see any other people there?"

"Not really, no. I think this was a relatively smaller conference compared to the others."

"Did you get to talk to Professor Choi much?" He looks down at his feet, wondering if you'd open up about anything that could potentially give him clues. But, you resort to a simple—

"Nope." Jiung is looking at your necklace now. "Just said hi in passing." You avoid eye contact.

"I see." He tries to read your body language but it isn't giving him anything. He's just not sure why you're keeping it so vague and brief, though. That's unusual. Plus, the fact that you can barely maintain eye contact with him. "That's a nice necklace, by the way. Is it new?" He points at it.

"Mhm. I got it down there." You touch the necklace with a small smile.

"It's cute. It suits you."

"That's what the lady told us—" You catch yourself. "Me, too. I mean." Jiung furrows his brows.

"Us?"

"The other shoppers around." You quickly throw out just as you get to the front of the Gates Biology Building. "Thanks for walking me." You playfully ruffle his hair and he chuckles.

"Mmyeah. See you later for the happy hour event?" You nod.

"Have a good rest of your day." You wave him off as you walk backwards and head into the lobby. He stands there for a second, waiting until you fully disappear into the elevator and off to the classroom, turning on his heel while replaying the conversation in his head.

You don't feel the same to him, and he knows it's because you're hiding something. You weren't always great at lying or keeping up with a façade because that just wasn't you. For you to be doing it means there's something tied to it that means a lot to you, something you're trying to protect, and Jiung is now convinced that something is Professor Choi.

It's only a matter of time until he finds out one way or another, and he's not sure how to feel about it. It could either go badly or end up worse; he's afraid you'll end up hurt at the end of it, and he's afraid everything you've worked for will be taken away from you so, so quickly.

Meanwhile, when you drag yourself into the classroom, you're startled by the sight of Yunho on his laptop, sitting at the table in front of the classroom.

"Oh, hey!" He says, typing away. "Hope you don't mind me joining in for journal club today." You shrug with a small chuckle, setting your things off to the side while Yunho comfortably sits back in the chair. Your eyes quickly skim his get-up for today, which is pretty casual: dark jeans, a long sleeve top and chucks. He doesn't say much while you're getting things ready on the projector, typing away on his phone in between scanning your figure. He's trying to see if anything looks or feels off with you, and so far, it doesn't.

San is careful as can be, he supposes.

"It is your class, Professor Jeong." He smiles a bit and nods.

"So, how was your weekend?" You yawn into your arm and shrug. 

"It was okay. I came back from a trip. Felt too short."

"Mm." Yunho hums. "Where'd you go, if you don't mind me asking?" He's eyeing your features as you sift through your notes.

"Just drove out a few hours with my mom." You avoid eye contact as you go through today's paper and prepare some discussion points for class.

"Oh." Yunho nods. "That sounds nice." His eyes land on your necklace and it looks too familiar— which is probably because he almost bought that same necklace for Iseul on Hiro this past weekend.

Maybe San isn't all that careful cause he swears he sees the faint hickey at the base of your neck from this angle. The longsleeve top you're wearing covers it for the most part, if you're paying attention.

"What about you?" You look at him and see that his eyes have landed on your necklace before they move up to meet your eyes.

"I was actually at Hiro for a couple of things, then went to the BAS conference for a bit." Your heart drops and suddenly, the room feels incredibly hot. You completely avoid eye contact with him now, sifting through your notes to finalize the discussion points for today. "I thought I saw you there with San."

"No?" Is all you manage to say, but it's enough for Yunho to catch onto everything.

"You weren't?" You look at him, and his expression is blank. All you can do is pretend to play it off and shake your head, hoping he'd let it go.

"Not me." Your response is barely above a whisper, and all Yunho can do is let out a breath. He knows.

"Y/N." His expression switches and you can see the concern on his face. "Can I ask—"

"Morning Professor Jeong and Y/N!" A student comes in and plops into his usual seat, followed by another student, and another. 

Thank god.

"Sorry, you were saying?" You look at him cluelessly, making him shake his head in response.

"Nothing. I'll let you take it from here." He gives you a small smile, eyes now glued onto the students ahead. You give them a few minutes, waiting for the stragglers to trickle in and get settled before you call their attention to the front and begin today's journal club paper discussion.

Yunho, for the most part, keeps to himself during class, chiming in when he wants to clarify a point or to encourage the class to bring more discussion to the table. Yunho thinks you're a great TA, and he sees that the students are comfortable with you. He hates that he's so conflicted because of many things: one, he's not sure entirely about the situation. Two, his gut feeling makes him feel sure but he doesn't know how to approach it. Three, he knows you're an incredibly bright and smart person— you'd get along with anyone and truly, he hasn't had any issues with you despite his last minute requests for classes or assignments.

Four, maybe he just needs to let this go and stop meddling.

Five, you would've known what you were getting into right?

But, he's reminded otherwise when class wraps up an hour and 15 minutes later— a brutal reminder otherwise. He sees you packing up and getting your things together, clinging onto your phone just as you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. As you turn on your heel, you almost collide straight into Iseul.

You look at her, and she looks at you.

Her eyes glaze over your features, landing on your neck, that necklace.

"Excuse—" You try to brush past her, but she gives you a small smile and steps in your way.

"Hi Y/N, how's class with Yunho been?" You look at her because you have never spoken a word to her, nor did you have a reason to. But, out of respect [especially on campus], you give her a faint smile before responding.

"Good." You simply respond as she nods.

"And how's your rotation with San? Sure he's been treating you well?" She tilts her head to the side, almost like she's mocking you. Almost like the answer is written all over your face, your neck; her eyes are there again and you can't help but tug up and adjust your top more.

"Very." 

"That's good to hear, I expected as much. He's pretty good about building relationships with his lab members." She gives you a small smirk before stepping aside, slowly making her way to Yunho behind you. He stands there, hand slipped into his pocket while he cocks his brow at her. You don't even take another moment to look at them, instead quickly walking out of the room to text San and make your way over to your next class of the day.

you: san.

san: uh oh. lol what did i do? 😅

you: no it's not that. ☹️

san: what is it, baby? do you wanna come into my office in a bit? i'm wrapping up at the faculty meeting.

you: no, it's okay. i just finished class with yunho and i think he knows. well, him and iseul.

san: what, why do you say that?

san: not like i care about what they have to say or whatever.

you: san, you should. 🫤

san: alright, i'm sorry. you're right. but what did they say, baby? do you wanna wait until i see you later?

you: yunho just said he thought he saw us at the BAS conference, but i know he did. his tone and look said so. he was just trying to get it out of me. and iseul.. i don't know. it was just weird.

san: we'll talk about this later tonight then, okay? it'll be okay. don't worry about them.

you: okay. 🥺 are you going to the happy hour thing?

san: wasn't planning on it but i know namjoon's text is gonna come sooner or later. going with your friends?

you: mhm. i'll see you later tonight if you don't go?

san: soooo long. wanna pop into my office in a bit? 

you: sannie. lol i'm headed to my next class then i'm going to meet up with jiung and them afterwards.

san: for 2 seconds. 😭

You playfully roll your eyes and smile as you text back, already walking over to class.

you: you're still wrapping up at the faculty meeting and i'm headed to class. i don't think we'll have 2 seconds, professor choi.

san: booooooo.

you: see you later. 😙

san: ☹️ mean.

You giggle to yourself, tucking your phone into your pocket as you head to class; forgetting the tense, awkward moments that just occurred between Yunho and Iseul.

"Why'd you have to do that, hm?" Yunho asks her, grabbing his bag from the floor before walking alongside of her.

"Was just trying to see how she'd react. I'm sure she didn't tell you anything about her trip?"

"No. Said she went away with her mom for the weekend, so." Iseul chuckles.

"Of course. Someone I know said they definitely saw San leaving with her at the conference. Kinda makes sense now, doesn't it?" She looks up at him. "Y/N folded when I mentioned him, her body language completely changed."

"Iseul." Yunho looks at her. "What are you trying to do here? All I was gonna do was ask her, not interrogate or attack her."

"I'm trying to get you to do the right thing. They're dating, Yunho. It's obvious. I saw the way she tugged on her top, too. I'm sorry but she's not slick." He sighs.

"I don't know, I don't wanna start this whole thing. What if it isn't even that serious, or what if we're completely wrong—"

"Everything about this is serious regardless of what angle you look at it. It's wrong." She says. "You don't have to talk to San, but I will. They need to know." He sighs heavily, no longer knowing how to respond to her about the whole issue.

You meet up with your friends outside in the middle of the Harvey Center courtyard, where all the activities are set up appropriately for the happy hour event taking place. They've got cornhole competitions set up on the lawn nearby, another station to decorate university tumblers, and another for quick but fun board games. They've got a bunch of pizza boxes sitting out on tables, beer and canned wine next to it. You and your friends help yourself to a few slices before grabbing your drinks of choice for the night. They've got string lights to add to the atmosphere, the evening being clear but chilly.

"Finally! We relax all together again!" Felix says, tapping his can against yours before you all drink and start to indulge in tonight's happy hour festivities. 

"Our baby's finally here, too!" Eunchae squeezes you, hugging you tightly and making you laugh as she clings onto your arm.

"I know, Y/N. You've been so MIA." Felix looks at you with his usual puppy eyes, bottom lip slightly poking out. "What's been going on?"

"I've been busy with the lab, honestly. Trying to put in as much work as I can before the rotation ends."

"It's like you're practically living there." Felix jokes.

"How come you haven't been working with Sunwoo, though? He said you've been on your own schedule and stuff." Jiung asks.

"We're just focusing on different aspects right now. Plus, I've been trying to help Belle out as much as I can, too."

"Okay but, make time for us, too. Live your life!" Eunchae preaches. "You're here with us now, so let's enjoy it." So, you do. You do exactly that with your friends and a bunch of other people who swung by from different departments. Today's happy hour event is the liveliest you've ever seen it— tons of friends and people swarming from different departments and areas just to take a break from everything and mingle.

You and your friends hang out with familiar and new faces, all of you sitting around and drinking while one half played games and the others talked about school, work. Life. San and his friends join eventually, talking to a few students as they hang around amongst themselves. You giggle to yourself seeing San put on a face cause it's obvious he's not entirely in the mood. But, he's here. So, are his friends; Professor Kim being the social butterfly out of them all, per usual.

"So, Y/N. Tell me about the stuff you've been doing in Professor Choi's lab. I heard you've been up to some crazy stuff from Sunwoo and Belle." Hae-jin, a postdoc in another lab, pulls his chair closer to yours and looks you in the eye. At first, the conversation is fun, it's lively. You're in good spirits conversing with the guy, laughing and poking fun at campus life and being a grad student vs. postdoc.

But, Hae-jin keeps drinking.

And he keeps drinking.

Then his true intentions start coming out and you're no longer having a good time talking to the guy.

A few people are drunk enough to start a fun little dance floor in the middle of the courtyard while the speakers blast music, Eunchae, Felix and Jiung also grabbing you to join them as you sing along to the song. You facetime call Jurin while she's away, letting her know much you miss her. The call ends after 5 minutes, Jurin sadly waving while she heads off to dinner with her parents for their anniversary celebration.

"I'm gonna grab some water." You tuck your phone in your pocket, heading straight to the water table nearby.

"I was looking for you, cute stuff!" Hae-jin throws his arm around you and you can smell the alcohol lingering on his breath. "Wanna dance?"

"No, I'm good, Hae-jin." You shrug him off and take another sip of water before tossing your cup. San is already on high alert from where he's standing— his attention nowhere on Namjoon, Jongho or Zara right now even though he's trying his hardest to keep it together.

The fuck was this guy doing?

"What, why? It's just for fun? Let's just go and hang out." He throws his arm around you again, this time bringing you flush to his body. You try to press off his chest, but he's strong and it isn't an easy fight.

"Hae-jin, stop—"

"What's wrong?" Luckily, Eunchae is already on her way over to save you, sensing your distress signal from afar.

"Hey, stop." Eunchae senses the way you stiffen and quickly become uncomfortable. "Leave her alone." Eunchae pushes Hae-jin back roughly. "You're drunk, dude. She said no."

"Aw come on, bestie trying to get in the way? I just thought we could have a dance. We were connecting, Y/N. Were we not?"

"Hae-jin, stop—No." His hand comes to your waist again. But, before Eunchae can even jump in, another familiar voice does:

"She said no." San steps in the middle, hand lightly pressed against his chest to create some distance. "Sure you understand what that means, right?" San's tone is laced with anger, but he's wearing a cocky smirk to cover it up. He's fuming and you know it.

"Professor Choi." You quietly say behind him with Eunchae still next to you, but he doesn't respond to it.

"San." Christopher is trying to hold him back by the shoulder, doing his best to reel him back in. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. You do understand what no means, right?" San asks again, his voice louder as he shrugs off Chris.

"Wow, relax. I didn't think I was coming off that disrespectful. She seemed interested so I was only playing her game—" San steps forward and your heart drops to your ass because what the fuck does he think he's doing right now?

"Kinda looked like you were forcing yourself on her, though." San cocks his head to the side. "Dunno if that really counts as her being interested." 

"San. Bring it back." Chris repeats. "The hell do you think you're doing right now?" He mutters lowly.

"San." You help by calling for him again, causing Hae-jin to knit his brows in confusion [along with Eunchae and Chris]. His eyes dart from you, to San, back to you, before responding.

"And how does it make any better that you're getting all worked up over her, Professor? Care to fill us in—"Hae-jin smirks a bit, causing San to push him back by the chest aggressively. But, before Hae-jin can even react properly, he's interrupted.

"San!" It's not just your voice calling out for him; it's Jongho's, it's Namjoon's, it's Christopher's. Namjoon is quick to step in between, creating distance between Hae-jin and San, giving San a very, very stern look once he dismisses Hae-jin to the side. You faintly hear Namjoon tell him to leave if he still plans to stir trouble, in which his friend tugs him to the side and apologizes on his behalf before they leave the event all together. You watch as Namjoon, Chris and Jongho move San to the opposite end, San's eyes wandering to you as if Namjoon isn't in front of him trying to get to the bottom of things.

"The hell just happened? Are you guys okay?" Felix asks as him and Jiung come over after playing a competitive game of cornhole with another duo of grad students.

"Bro, Hae-jin was getting all handsy and wouldn't take no for answer." Eunchae rolls her eyes, keeping you by her side and brushing your hair back. "Fucking creep. I wish Professor Choi actually decked his ass."

"I saw him getting in the middle." Felix adds. 

"What's that about?" Jiung looks at you, but you don't really respond. You know he's not asking about Hae-jin. You know he's asking about San in particular.

"He deserved it, that's what. Being a whole dumbass with no boundaries. Learn how to control yourself, asshole!" She yells, hoping Hae-jin hears it even though him and his friends are all further away.

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom."

"Want me to come?" Eunchae asks and you shake your head.

"I'm good. Promise. Just needa break the seal again and take a little breather." Eunchae smiles a bit before squeezing and letting go of your hand. 

On the other hand, Namjoon and Jongho finally find a better spot to speak with San at. Chris is honestly confused about the whole situation, being that he's never seen San outwardly act out that way even throughout his bad days. Jongho, on the other hand, knows exactly why and he knew it from the moment Hae-jin started drinking more and getting close to you.

Maybe he should've helped calm him down. He knew San's attention was on you and no one else.

"San." Namjoon calls him again to bring his attention back to him. "I know damn well— what the hell are you doing putting your hands on a postdoc like that at a campus event?"

"He was getting disrespectful, I know you saw that."

"I did, but you could've handled it with a lot more grace, San. This isn't the time nor place to get worked up like that. You don't get into fights on campus as a professor."

"I'm sorry."

"Was that really all that triggered it? Is there something else going on?" San looks at the floor and shakes his head, jaw ticking as he tries to calm himself down.

"No sir. I shouldn't have reacted that way." Namjoon doesn't believe it one bit, but he won't add more fuel to the fire right now.

"I don't think he'll go crying to the dean so consider yourself lucky. Please don't pull that shit again around these students. Promise me. You've got enough to deal with as is." San sighs heavily and nods.

"You're right, I'm sorry, Joon." Namjoon just gives him a small nod before letting out a breath and walking off to the side.

"Are you okay? I've never seen you that angry." Chris asks, confused about why San reacted the way he did.

"Yeah." 

"Excuse us." Jongho says as he lightly pushes him by the shoulder, a little irritated at how incredibly stupid he's being. "Bro." He adds when he gets him alone. "What did I tell you?"

"He was putting his hands on her! I wasn't gonna let him disrespect her."

"Because she's your girlfriend?" Pause. 

"That's besides the point, Jongho. He wasn't taking no for an answer and was forcing himself onto her."

"You could've just asked him to leave. He would have listened if you had just approached it properly." San doesn't listen, though. Instead, he clicks his teeth and whips out his phone to text you because he doesn't see you anywhere. "San. Don't." Jongho warns him, trying to keep the peace and the suspicion down. "Can't you just talk to her later? Shit will not help your case if someone sees you two. Think about this."

san: baby, where are you? 

you: i'm going to the bathroom.

san: can you meet me behind the building, near the first, back west wing door?

you: is that a good idea?

san: really quickly. please.

you: i'll be there in a sec.

"Be right back." He looks at Jongho before walking into the building and out to the back door near the bathrooms. 

"San." Jongho calls for him again before clicking his teeth. This dude was gonna stress him the fuck out, no doubt.

"Jongho?" Namjoon looks at him and all he can do is shrug. 

"I really don't know what to tell you." Jongho and Namjoon's eyes travel around to see if everyone is still looking at the scene. "Whatever it is, it isn't my story to tell, Joon."

"Is everything okay?" Zara cuts in, concerned about San. She also witnessed the entire thing go down and unfortunately, it's just another reminder, another confirmation, of your relationship with him. It still aches her heart, even though a tiny part of her is selfishly holding onto hope that they'd work out in the end.

Not you two.

"Yeah, should be." Namjoon gives her a small smile. "Don't worry about it. He's just having an off night." Iseul and Yunho are quietly observing from the opposite end of the courtyard, still mid-discussion with other colleagues. They do try to bring their attention back to the discussion and away from San thankfully; however, Yunho knows Iseul definitely won't let it go at this point.

After you head to the bathroom, you wash your hands and fix your hair a bit, hands slightly shaking from the entire encounter. You take a few deep breaths before heading out towards the back door of the west wing, which is only a few steps away from the bathroom area on the first floor. As soon as you step outside, San is there with his hands in his pockets. He immediately pulls you in for a hug, one that you don't reciprocate, especially because you're on campus. You gently push him back and shake your head, bottom lip slightly poking out in a pout.

"Baby—"

"Not here." You softly say. There's a small pause before you let out a sigh and address the elephant in the room. "San, you didn't have to do that."

"Well, the hell was I supposed to do? Let him touch you without your consent? He was making you uncomfortable, Y/N. Over my dead fuckin' body—"

"Can't you think for a second? You're on campus!"

"I don't get why you're upset with me for just trying to protect you."

"There were better ways to do it."

"Angel." He says in defeat. "I'm sorry. I'm not gonna sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. Namjoon will be fine—"

"It's not even that, it's everyone else—"

"So be it! For all I fucking care." 

"San, stop saying that." 

"No, why? Are you really upset with me?" He cuts in and asks, almost caging you in while he looks at you softly. It's taking everything in you to not just kiss him right here, right now. Wrap your arms around him, tell him to forget every little fucking thing because all that matters is you and him; on that us against the world type shit—

"Y/N?" You turn when you hear the door pop open and another figure is in your peripherals. Jiung is there, confused about the two of you being together. 

In the back.

San's face, body, in close proximity to yours.

Both of your expressions are telling.

"What're you doing? I thought you were going to the bathroom?" San steps back, attention shifting towards his feet. 

"I'll talk to you later." Is all he says before brushing past you and Jiung, back to Jongho in the main courtyard.

"Jiung." You come towards him. "You didn't have to come looking for me." You brush past him to head back to the courtyard, and Jiung can't help but keep his eyes on San for a second longer before he's coming after you and grabbing your wrist.

Fuck, San thinks. This whole night is so fucked up. He doesn't even know if you're mad at him or not.

He doesn't know what this means.

"Y/N, don't you think we should talk?"

"About what?"

"Stop." He swings you around to face him. "That's enough. What the hell is going on with you and Professor Choi?"

"Jiung—"

"I know you haven't been telling the truth, so please stop. Be honest with me, that's all I ask." You sigh shakily, bottom lip trembling as you fiddle with your fingers. Jiung knew, and tonight probably solidified everything he had questioned, felt, assumed. There was no getting away from it, not from Jiung. 

"We've been seeing each other." His eyes widen in surprise.

"So, Sunwoo wasn't lying when he said he didn't see you during the NAS conference." You feel the tears pricking at your lids as you shake your head. "You were with him." He lets out a breath. "Who else knows?"

"No one else. Please don't mention it to them cause I'm not ready to do that talk with them yet." He doesn't even answer, but the next question throws you so off-guard you don't even know how to properly react.

"D-did Professor Choi force you into this? Is he making you do stuff in order to secure your spot in his lab? Y/N, if he's—" You step back and look at him disbelief.

"W-what? That's the first thing you thought of?" Now, it's his turn to look at you in disbelief because how is he supposed to know? He sees the surface level of it and obviously, everything about it is wrong.

"He's a professor, Y/N. Not just any, but yours. Your rotation PI."

"I know it seems wrong, but that's not what it is at all."

"Seems wrong? It is." He flatly says. "This could literally fuck up everything for the both of you. Did you not think about that?"

"I'm not stupid, Jiung. I knew what I was getting into." You back up. "And why would you think of him that way? He'd never do that."

"How am I supposed to know? I know him as a professor—"

"Well, he would never do that."

"I'm sorry? I'm just worried and am making sure you're okay as your friend."

"I told you it was fine. It's not like that and we both agreed on this."

"Okay?" Jiung retorts, hurt by the defensive tone you have.

"I'm just gonna say bye to everyone and head back."

"I can walk—"

"It's fine."

"Why are you hella angry with me?" Jiung stops you again. "You can't actually be angry at me for caring about you."

"I don't need you to do that, Jiung. And I don't need you to start assuming all this shit about me and Professor Choi. You don't know him, and you obviously don't know me if you think I'm someone who could be forced around like that."

"That was not even my point, I was just—"

"Whatever." You say, brushing him off as you walk towards your friends and start gathering your things.

"You're leaving!?" Eunchae pouts. "Fucking Hae-jin and his kill-joy ass!"

"I'm just tired, is all. You stay and have fun, okay?"

"You sure? I can walk you—"

"Please. I promise. Have fun." You reassure her before saying your goodbyes to the rest of the group and walking off. 

"Is she okay? Did something happen between her and Professor Choi?" Felix cocks up a brow. "Is there something going on?"

"Nah." Jiung says, plopping down onto a chair. It's easy to see he's defeated, and it's easy to pick up on the mood change. Eunchae and Felix quietly sit around, sipping on the last bits of their drinks before setting the cans aside and scrolling through social media to talk about random things—

Just to let the weirdness pass.

On the other hand, San can see you from where he's standing and he feels his stomach drop. He doesn't wanna see you walk alone, he doesn't wanna be this way with you, he doesn't want Jiung to get upset or make things worse for you.

He doesn't know what to do.

"Maybe we should head out." Jongho chimes in, watching San text away.

"In a sec."

san: y/n, don't walk alone. where are your friends?

you: staying behind.

san: you want me to pick you up?

you: no. i think i should stay home.

san: baby, we need to talk about this.

you: and it won't be tonight. i think we both just need to step back and take a breather, okay? too many things happened and i just need to be in my own space.

san: did you and jiung fight?

you: i'll talk to you later.

san: baby, come on.

Because it's true— this was getting sloppier and even though you could care less, you needed to think. Do better. Be better about this with San.

Though, you're scared and you know it's about to unravel quick. Tonight definitely didn't help that case whatsoever.

You just needed a moment away from everyone.

—read 10.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Handle It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Blackmailing, Being Sick, Threatening to Kill Someone, Mentions of An Affair

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: Y/N stresses about not being able to take a test after missing it because she is sick, but good thing Rafe is here to help.

Masterlist

He can hear tiny sniffles coming from inside of his room. He opens the door to see the wet globs coming from her eyes and the tiny shrivel of her nose confirms his assumption that she is crying. Her hand tugs at the opposite sleeve of his oversized hoodie that she wears. As soon as their eyes lock, he rushes to sit on the bed and pulls her onto his lap. “What’s wrong, my sweet angel?” he coos, unsticking her hair from the wet trail on her face it attached itself to so that he can look into her eyes. She takes a second to steady her breathing, “Y-you kn-know how I had that test today, but I’ve been puking all week so I couldn’t go?” He nods his head for her to continue. “Well, I emailed my professor at the beginning of the week asking if I could do it another day. He said that I would need to show him a doctor's note before the end of the day for that to happen. I tried telling him that I tried everything all week to get one, but my doctor doesn’t have a free appointment, the clinic can’t give me one because they aren’t my regular doctor and the hospital won’t even see me. So, now, I’m going to lose 20% of my mark because I was sick.” 

Rafe listens carefully to her little rant, growing angry at each hoop his sick girlfriend had to go through just to get something as trivial as a redo test. She had been studying every chance she could get, even through her sickness. Rafe knows how serious Y/N is about her grades and school. After all, she needs some great grades to get into grad school. He would never think twice about losing 20% of his grade because all he wants to do is pass the class, which is perfectly doable without that. However, Y/N, especially with her anxiety, needs every percent she can get and Rafe wasn’t going to let some old shit with a stick up his ass stop her from doing so. “It’s going to be okay. Let me handle it, angel,” he assures, kissing her temple. 

——

The line to the professor’s office is three people deep. All of them are waiting to enter for his office hours, but Rafe is not going to take the chance of not talking to him. He stares down the first guy in line and walks to the front of the line. From the guy’s smell, he must be an engineering major. No one says anything about Rafe’s actions because he has a well-known reputation on campus. The door opens to the office and Rafe doesn’t wait for the student inside to walk out. The wrinkles on the professor’s forehead crate a v, a frown falling onto his face. “I don’t believe you are in any of my classes,” he states, trying to pinpoint if he has seen Rafe in any of his lectures. Rafe shakes his head in a low chuckle, “No, I am not, Professor Smith. But my girlfriend is. You may remember her from the email you sent her, Y/N Y/L/N.” “Ah, yes. I do remember her. Unless you have the doctor's notes or are a doctor, then I am afraid I can’t do anything. It’s not my fault she didn’t plan accordingly,” Smith comments, not looking up from his laptop. 

Rafe closes the teacher’s laptop. This causes the man to look at him and he gives him a threatening smile. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t have any notes. But my angel won’t be needing one,” he sings, running his finger along the desk. The elder’s head tilts, “Really? And why would that be?” Rafe’s grin turns almost psychotic.

“Because I know a little secret about where you like to spend your Sunday nights. I have a lot of photographic evidence that I’m sure the university and your wife would love.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Let’s not play this game. My frat brother also likes to visit the little lady you like to have a dalliance with and he told me everything she told him. If that doesn’t convince you, then maybe the piece in my nightstand drawer will.”

The bob of the professor’s Adam’s apple is very evident, “Are you trying to blackmail me?” 

“Nice to see you finally caught up on what is going on. Now, are you going to do what I asked?”

Smith looks at Rafe with wide eyes and the points of his lips stretch. He can see the seriousness on Rafe’s face. His head gives a small nod, “Y-yes. I think I can do something for Ms. Y/L/N.” “That’s great. Let’s type her a nice apologetic email. And if you even think about telling anyone about this, then you might just find yourself six feet under,” Rafe intimidates, reopening the laptop for the professor. 

——

Wind passes through her hair as she makes her way towards Rafe. Her smile rivals the sun and she jumps into his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist. He grips the back of her thighs to keep her up. “What has you so happy, my angel? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Rafe complains, peppering kisses all over her face. She giggles at the assault of his lips, “Professor Smith let me redo the test without a doctor’s note. I got a 100%.” Rafe lets out a cheer, spinning her around. “That’s so great! You work so hard. I’m so proud of you, angel,” he praises. She gives her his thanks as she tells him in detail about her test, talking about how she figured out a question she got a little stuck on. He nods and listens, spotting the professor out of the corner of his eye. Professor Smith becomes frightened and he quickly looks away from Rafe. He smirks at the professor’s reaction, returning his full gaze to his girl.

[midnight-mourning]

*Taps mic* Heard y'all like Moon around here, you're in luck, this one's for you

massive, MASSIVE thank you to @lunarmoves for beta-reading this chapter!!

She put a lot of time and effort into making my BS readable for y'all and it's greatly appreciated <3 <3 <3

Shay also makes really good dca stuff (also sebastian solace but I know very little about the fish tbh) and you should check her out!

Also, happy 200k+!!! We're only 297k from truly becoming the 500k enemies to lovers slowburn of our dreams lmaoooo

But for real I apologize for such a delay with this one. If you'd like to hear my excuses/reasoning they're below the cut, or you can just go read the chapter whatever suits ya ^-^

Tag list (if you would like added please see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

CW: medical stuff & additionally a bit of unreality mentions

Okay going to try and keep this simple bc I've said parts of it before

So as most of you know, I've been sick for 3 months now

I've now been on two rounds of steroids, and currently on my third round of antibiotics, which are basically keep me fucntional, not improving

besides general discomfort and pain, my memory has been pretty shot at times, I will go through the day and barely remember what I did/what I'm doing/what I need to do

as someone who had brain fog caused by covid a few years ago, this was genuinely a scary experience because ultimately, this has been worse

i've felt out of control of my body, having times where I'm mid thought and then instantly lose it

this is not my normal, I usually pride myself on my memory, so losing it has been incredibly devastating and scary

this was not helped by the fact that the quick care I went to (THREE TIMES for this) basically kind of sort of tried to gaslight me into believing nothing could be done and that it's not an infection

so not only has this entire thing has gotten dragged out so much more, which makes me sad tbh, but I've also felt like I've been going crazy bc it felt like no one was believing me when i said I was sick and not getting any better (including friends, family, coworkers etc, though unintentional on their parts to be fair)

I feel like I've lost three months of my life and coming to terms with that has been, yeah

on top of all that, I'm still in school AND doing grad stuff, and while the school side of things has been okay (thank god), grad's had it's moments, won't get into it but have had multiple issues with my advisor that have been at times just really tough to deal with

Confused spirit got pushed to the back burner, because i quite literally at times could not think, and when it comes to this fic, where there's multiple ongoing plot threads, characterizations, lore, and so on to keep track of, it was just, impossible to me to even consider writing for it

having shorter stuff like promptober, the oneshots and such was great to keep me writing, and also still interact with everyone in the community, plus i had a lot of fun with them so that helped too

this is all to say that I do sincerly apologize for the delay, and at the very least I should've clearly communicated about there being a hiatus, when this all started I thought i'd be down for two weeks max, then as that time kept increasing I just kept putting it off and putting it off because i thought i was going to get better, and then I didn't

I do this for fun and for nothing else, fic writing isn't content (it's engaging with fandom) and i have to remind myself of that sometimes but given that I've been around in some capacity on and off I feel I should've said something in some regard

Having said all that, I'm doing okay now! Still sick, but as long as I'm on meds I'm functional, stuff is getting managable with grad, and hopefully have some fun things coming up irl! Point is, the last three months haven't been the best, but they've been alright, due in part to all the support you all have given me, so thank you for that, can't say it enough :)

Okay, I think that just about covers it, thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you did <3

[writingonleaves]

and all at once, you’re all i want (i’ll never let you go) - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: literally nothing. fluff! some minor worship of nina hischier (the goat), a little love letter to my alma mater

title: "king of my heart" by taylor swift

word count: 10.3k

author's note: first fic in the new year is for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i had the absolute pleasure of writing for @wildrangers <3 taylor, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed putting it together and demi, thank you for your endless hard work for putting this on!!

four times where jack hughes and ashley grassie showed up for each other and one time where everyone showed up for them

*****

one - two months

“Jack, are you sure about this?” Ashley asks, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He responds confidently, sparing a look at her from the drivers seat before turning his eyes back on the road. “Everyone’s expecting you.”

“You told them?”

“That my girlfriend was coming with me to a New Year’s party? Of course.” He squeezes her thigh lightly. “They’re excited to meet you. And not while we’re working.”

“I’m excited to meet them too.”

“You sure?” He teases lightly. “You’ve been quiet all afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” They stop at a red light, and he leans over to kiss her cheek. “Ash, baby, they’re gonna love you.”

“But you don’t know that,” she protests softly. 

“I do, actually. Because everyone loves you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t promise me that everyone’s gonna even like me.”

He shrugs. “I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll see.” He tugs at her gold sweater. “Is this new?”

“Yeah. Seems fitting for the occasion. Sparkles equals New Years, right?”

“I like it a lot.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she deadpans. 

He smirks. “And what might that be?”

“Distracting me.”

“Maybe so. You’re so smart, Miss Columbia Grad.”

“Jack,” she whines, making him laugh. 

He picks up her hand and kisses the back of it. “Trust me, okay? It’ll be great. And I’ll be with you all night.”

Ashley swallows, before forcing herself to nod. 

The thing is, after two months of dating officially (she’s not counting the month beforehand when there wasn’t a label on things even though there should’ve been), there are still important parts of each other’s lives they have yet to experience together. She’s gone to a few of his games, but has never met any of his teammates (except for Luke, but he doesn’t count), choosing to meet Jack back at his place after instead of waiting for him at the rink. She also doesn’t count that one Devils game she had to fill in for, which is how she met Jack in the first place. The few times he’s invited her along when he does go out with them, she’s been busy with other things. 

New Year’s is kinda a big time to be meeting new people. People that mean a lot to Jack. But that could just also be all in Ashley’s head. She’s never really done this before. The last serious boyfriend she had was in high school where everyone knew each other. There was no need for introductions. 

Jack squeezes her hand. “Thank you.” 

“For?” 

“Coming with me to this. Taking off work early. I appreciate it a lot.” 

She shrugs casually. “It’s about time, right?” She pointedly ignores the look he shoots her, because she doesn’t want him to know how nervous she really is.

Before they know it, Jack’s pulled into the driveway of the Toffolis and her hands start sweating again. She gathers the flowers on her lap and the wine bag as Jack rounds the car and opens the door for her. He grabs the bag, presses a kiss atop her head and hand in hand, they walk to the front door. She lets Jack take the lead as he just walks in. They walk into the kitchen area, as Cat pulls her into a hug and thanks them graciously for the flowers and wine.

It turns out that Ashley really does have nothing to worry about. Getting thrown into a whirlwind of introductions and new names is a lot, but she doesn’t mind. A wave of comfort crashes over her as Luke practically hauls her into a hug. 

She finds herself besides Nico after he hands her a glass of wine. “You’re a journalist, right?” He asks.

“I am.”

“Do you ever watch Jack’s media interviews?”

Ashley giggles. “I do once in awhile. Trust me, I have my thoughts. I also met him for the first time from that. And you, technically.”

“Right, right. Will we ever see you in the locker room again?”

“Probably not. I was just filling in for Danny. On the rare chance I do sports, it’s usually for the Jets. Besides, better to watch and support you all without any stake professionally.”

“What do you usually report on?” Nico asks with genuine curiosity. 

She perks up, like anytime she gets to talk about her job. As she talks, using her hands animatedly despite one of them holding a drink, Jack looks on from a distance with a lovesick look in his eyes.

“She is way too cool for you,” Dawson says, fixing his cap.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” But Jack knows his teammate’s right.

Jack’s not clingy, perse, but it’s hard for him to watch Ashley just…be and not be touching a part of her. Even if it’s just sliding up against her so her body is pressed alongside his, he just wants to be near her all the time. 

(Quinn once sent some random thing he found on Instagram about love languages a few years back and Jack had remembered absolutely roasting him. But maybe he had a point)

“So,” Nicole starts, refilling both their glasses up with champagne a bit later in the evening. “Why Jack?”

Ashley snorts. “Your guess is as good as mine.” From beside his girlfriend, Jesper barks out a laugh and from next to Ashley, Jack pouts. Ashley laughs, leaning into Jack’s side. “I’m kidding. Mostly. I was hesitant at first though.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me about this,” Jesper says. “Said he chased you down the hall after post-game media and asked you out?”

“Sounds about right.”

“And you said yes to that?” Jesper asks. Jack whacks his teammate in the stomach. 

“Not right away,” Ashley admits. “He gave me his number and told me to text him if I was interested. And I ended up being interested.”

“Lucky for him,” Nicole chuckles. 

Jack squeezes Ashley’s waist fondly. “Lucky for me.”

She listens on in interest as Nicole talks about how she and Jesper got together. Somewhere throughout the conversation, she can’t help but let her mind drift. They’ve been together for years now, been living together for a bit and are looking to move into a house. She literally moved away from Sweden full-time for him. 

Ashley swallows as Jack asks about how their house search is going. There’s a very little chance that Jack will be leaving Jersey anytime within the next half decade. But her mother warned her that his career could take him places in the future unexpectedly. 

And in a way, so could Ashley’s. But it’s not as easy. 

She scolds herself for even thinking this far. They’ve been dating for literally two months. That’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. They’re celebrating entering the new year today, but she has no idea if they’ll even be together for all of it.

She’s hoping they are. God, she really fucking hopes so. But she could hope until the end of the world and have it fall short. She smoothes her sweater out with her suddenly-clammy hands, chugging the whole glass of champagne before putting the flute down on a nearby table. She excuses herself politely to use the bathroom, which she does, before getting some air. 

She definitely looks a bit crazy outside on the Toffoli’s porch in the dead of winter, but she doesn’t mind the biting edge of cold. It’s grounding her, actually. 

“Was looking for you.”

Ashley doesn’t even look at Jack, humming as she hears him walking out to stand next to her. “Did my sparkle sweater give me away?”

“No, Neeks did, actually. Said he saw you walking out.” She finally looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not cold?”

“Don’t even think about offering me your jacket,” she warns. “I know you’re only wearing a t-shirt underneath.”

“Then come back inside so we both don’t die.”

“In a minute,” she promises. 

He huffs, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try and generate some heat. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Just, you know, minorly freaking out at her boyfriend’s teammate’s place about the fact that she might be falling in love with him even though it hasn’t been that long and what a future could look like for them and how that future could fall apart in an instant.

So regular New Year’s Eve thoughts.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a college degree, much less two,” Jack grins. “I can’t read minds.”

“And you think I can?” She jokes back weakly. He just chuckles. She continues. “Your friends are nice. I like them a lot.”

He lights up anytime someone he loves gets brought up in conversation. “Yeah, they’re cool. They like you too.”

“That’s good,” she says softly. 

He taps her forehead with his pointer finger. “Countdown’s soon. Come back inside?” He laces their fingers together. 

“You gonna kiss me at midnight?”

“Think so.”

“You only think so?”

Jack smirks, kissing her deeply. “Shut up.”

Ashley is absolutely floored.

two - one year and one month

Cam’s wedding crept up on her. 

Of course, Ashley knew it was coming, but still. Though she was surprised when Jack told her that he was free of games on that particular early November weekend somehow, only having to miss an optional practice and that he would notify the coaching staff far in advance. 

It’s not the act of bringing Jack that she’s nervous about. Cam and Amanda, his fiance, came into the city a few months ago and they all grabbed lunch before heading to a game at The Rock that night. She’ll never forget how ultimately “traitor-like to the Bruins” Cam felt, Ashley and Amanda finding it hilarious. They both had a good time though, and that’s all that matters, and Cam, who has always looked out for her even before she had ever asked, subtly gave his approval. 

(“I’ll admit my assumptions about him were wrong,” Cam had said. “He’s awesome, and he really cares about you. If he’s the one, I won’t be mad about it. He’s very lucky.”)

It’s more of a particular person that’s going to be at the wedding. 

Weirdly, when she and Alex broke up way back when, one of the thoughts that circled her mind months after was exactly this. If and when the day of Cam’s wedding came, and they were both still close to him, they’d both be there. And here they are. 

She’s over him — obviously, considering she’s in a happy, long-term relationship and it’s been four years — but how do you prepare to see your ex-boyfriend when the last time you saw him you had just broken up and you were in tears?

She and Jack drive up to Cape Cod early the day of the wedding and she feels a bit bad that he’s driving after he had a game last night and has one in just two days but he doesn’t mind, happy to be driving as long as she’s in the passenger seat next to him. They’re switching off anyways, and she had driven the first half. Cam and Amanda rented out a bunch of rooms at a few inns for their guests so her and Jack will get ready there before heading to the venue. 

From a quick rundown Cam gave her a month ago when they caught up over the phone, she’ll at least be familiar with a good amount of people at the wedding. She’s excited to see them all again and catch up, those memories that were bittersweet at some point, all water under the bridge so many years later. 

It’s what you get for dating within a friend group. Ultimately, at some point, sides are chosen.

At the end of the day, it’s Cam, someone who has always been there for her since they were 16, even when she didn’t necessarily do the same. He’s given his friendship selflessly to her for over a decade. The least she can do is come to his wedding to celebrate. 

And she has Jack with her. Nothing can go wrong with Jack by her side. 

“You okay?” Jack’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts as he squeezes her thigh, sneaking a look before focusing back on the road. “You’re quiet. You’re rarely quiet in the car.”

“It’s a 5 hour drive, Jack.”

“I’ve been playing country nonstop for the last half an hour and you haven’t chirped me once.” She starts playing with his fingers and his eyebrows furrow. “Alright. What’s going on, baby? What are you thinking about?”

“You know what I’m thinking about.” She shoots back with no malice. 

He sighs, linking their hands together and bringing them up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Yeah. I got you though. I’ll be with you the whole day.”

“It’s dumb, really. Four years. And I haven’t thought about him in a long time.”

He shrugs. “He was your first heartbreak, and you haven’t seen him since. This is gonna be some sort of closure, even if it’s four years later.”

“You seem awfully cool about this, considering, you know, your current girlfriend is lowkey freaking out about seeing her ex again.”

“I’m not worried,” he replies easily. “You need this closure. I wasn’t smart like you back then and actually saw my exes probably way sooner than I should’ve. Besides, I’m the one on your arm now. Not him. I’m not pressed.”

She scoffs at yet another country song playing and skips it, snorting when ‘Suburban Legends’ by Taylor Swift comes on. How fitting. “I’m definitely hyping it up in my head. It’s nothing. And Cam told me that he purposefully put us at separate tables, in case Alex says some questionable shit while drunk.”

“No worries about you saying anything questionable?”

“Compared to Alex? No way.” He snorts, amused. But he knows enough about his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend to not push it. “I wonder if he’s bringing someone. God, I hope he is.”

“Why? Don’t want to rub it in his face that you’re happy and in love?”

“That’s mean,” she says airily. “No. I hope he’s bringing someone because I want to know what kind of girl can tolerate his ass. I did, but I was 20 and stupid. I wanna see what kind of girl can tolerate him at 26.”

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“Cam?”

He snorts. “No. Alex.”

“Who knows? Even if he does, he probably doesn’t care and isn’t overthinking it like I am.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” she looks at him, confused and he bites his lip. “Even if they play it off, guys are affected by that stuff more than you’d think.”

“What is there to be affected by?”

“You,” Jack says simply. “Not that I’m biased or anything, but you leave quite an impact on everyone you meet. And that lucky ass got to date you. As someone who also has had that privilege, I can relate a bit.”

Ashley chuckles before squeezing his hand. “Thanks for coming with me. I know your schedule is really busy with the season and everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me. Isn’t half of having a significant other just bringing them as plus ones to weddings?”

“Fair.” She leans her head on his shoulder momentarily as he pushes the sunglasses on top of his head to his face. “Thank you, though. I feel bad that you’re missing practice.”

He snorts. “Don’t.”

“They didn’t give you a hard time?”

“Not really. It’s an optional, anyways. Nico just told us to have fun and I think Lindy has a soft spot for you somehow. I’m excited. I like Cam. And I’m happy to be here with you.” He smirks, adding. “Come on, baby. Did you think I was gonna leave you to dry when your ex is gonna be there?”

“You don’t know anybody at the wedding. And Cam grew up in a hockey-loving family from Boston. There’s bound to be people who recognize you.”

“So I’m the arm candy for the night. That works perfectly for me.” 

They arrive at the inn just past 1, and decide to stop by a nearby cafe to grab a quick bite. Jack decides to take a short nap before they have to start getting ready and head out while she scrolls on her phone and plays with his hair since his head is on her lap. Occasionally she finds herself staring outside the window at the water with a smile. Even if not in the summer, the Cape is beautiful.

Once it hits 4:15, she figures that she should start getting ready, but she can’t move without disturbing Jack since he’s still sleeping soundly on her lap. She gently whispers his name and presses a few kisses on his forehead as his breathing changes, groaning a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes. 

“Time to go?”

“In like, an hour. I need to start getting ready.”

He hums, puckering his lips and she takes the hint, kissing him soundly twice before ushering him off her lap. She lays out the few makeup products she has, moisturizing her face before putting light foundation and concealer on. As always, she focuses more attention on her eyeshadow, deciding to add a bit of gold glitter to compliment her pink dress. She clips a matching pink bow in, liking the way it blends with the natural brown of her hair. She decides to save the lipstick for right before they leave and turns to Jack, who’s buttoning his shirt. 

“What do you think?” He looks up as he’s buttoning his cuffs. “Too much glitter?” She asks.

“Never too much glitter. You look beautiful.”

She looks at his blazer and tie that he’s laid out on the bed, looking at him with minor confusion. “Since when do you own that tie?”

“Since last week when I bought it.”

She looks at where her dress is hanging. “It matches my dress.”

“Yes it does.”

She looks towards him as he tucks his shirt in, a sudden wave of love rushing through her heart. “I love you.”

He looks up and immediately walks over to her, placing a hand on her waist and kissing her. “I love you too.”

She puts on her dress quickly, smiling when she doesn’t even have to ask Jack as he comes over to help her zip it up, pressing a chaste kiss on her shoulder. His phone ringing interrupts and she brushes her hair before she puts on her accessories. 

“Sup Quinny?”

Quinn’s voice crackles through Jack’s phone. “Where the fuck are you going all dressed up on a Saturday? I know for a fact you don’t have a game today, considering Luke just sent a snap of him playing Chel with Dawson 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m in the Cape, asshole. One of Ash’s friends is getting married.”

She peeks into the view of the camera and waves after putting in one earring. “Hi Quinn!”

“Oh! Hey Ash. You look beautiful.”

She beams. “Thank you!”

Jack scoffs. “I’m here too.”

Ashley leaves the brothers to catch up as she starts gathering her things and puts on her lip tint before sitting at the edge of the bed since they still have 15 minutes left before they have to head out and she’s mostly all ready to go. She chimes in once in awhile, always happy to talk to Quinn as Jack shrugs on his suit jacket, ties his matching pink tie and clasps on his watch.

“Looking good, you two.” Quinn says as they both stand in front of the phone. “Matching tie, eh? Good move, Jacky.”

“We look good enough to make an ex jealous?”

She just rolls her eyes as Quinn’s eyes lights up, immediately catching on. “Absolutely.”

“Don’t encourage him, Quinn.”

Quinn just laughs and bids them farewell as Jack smooths down his tie. She puts on her jacket and grabs her boots and slips them on. As she’s about to bend down and tie them, Jack ushers her to sit on the bed and kneels down. He does it too quickly for her to dwell too much on how much she loves him, but he probably knows, if him gently rubbing his thumb over her ankle and the kiss on the inside of her knee tell her anything. 

It’s only been a little over a year, but she really does think she could spend the rest of her life with him.

They end up running into Nick in the lobby and even though it’s been…four years since she’s seen him, she corrals him into a tight hug. She introduces Jack and Nick introduces Melanie, his fiancee. The only indication from Nick that he knows who Jack is is a subtle comment that’s delivered in a way that’s so Nick it makes her heart ache — “Jack Hughes. Only Ash would show up after almost five years in the flesh with a professional athlete at a wedding where her ex is gonna be at. Always gotta do some out of pocket shit.” — and makes Jack laugh as she slaps him.

The four of them walk the short seven minute walk to the venue together, with Ashley and Nick mostly leading the conversation. She can’t remember where they left their tentative friendship in their late teens and early twenties when the world was shut down and the future looked the most uncertain it had been. Even though they don’t immediately pick up where they left off, years of rust littered in their interactions and memories, she’s extremely happy to see that he’s doing well. 

(Jack’s just happy to be there, holding his girlfriend’s hand as she leads the conversation. It’s nice not having to lead for once. There’s not many situations where he’s the one tagging along) 

As they enter the ceremony space, Ashley immediately sees plenty of other people she recognizes. She chuckles to herself as she realizes many of the guys are from the soccer team. It’s touching to know they still keep in touch. Logan, one of said guys, greets Nick goodheartedly, before wrangling her into a hug. As pleasantries are exchanged and people are introduced, she does feel a bit out of place. But that’s natural, reconnecting with people after so long that clearly still hang out with each other and only hear about her through sporadic updates through Cam when they ask. 

Sides were chosen, even if not intentionally. Ashley’s learned to be okay with that. Even if she thinks it’s unfair that Alex got to keep a lot of their mutual friends and she didn’t.

As everyone settles down in their seats, she squeezes Jack’s hand, opening her mouth to apologize for…something. Not preparing him in giving the whole lore of how she knows all these people? How the only reason she knows the sport of soccer is so well is because of Alex? Not explaining clearly the mixed feelings of her coming to the Cape this weekend? 

But Jack’s enraptured in a conversation with Logan, and she smiles. Of course. Logan played hockey back in high school as well. 

(Out of instinct, Jack does squeeze her hand back though, even placing them in his lap even though he’s not looking in her direction at all)

When Alex comes into view, a pretty redhead’s hand around the crook of his elbow, Ashley starts sweating. Thank goodness she has deodorant in her bag. Jack, who’s still talking to Logan, notices, and she’s about to apologize for her clammy hands as he sends her a confused look but the nearby exclamations of Alex’s name answers his question. He just presses two kisses to her temple.

Logan, to his credit, grimaces. “You gonna be good, Ash?”

She waves his kindness away. “Of course. It’s been so long. And it’s Cam’s day.”

And it is Cam’s day, as everyone falls silent watching both sets of parents and the groomsmen and bridesmaids walk down — she chuckles when she sees Sean walking down, forgetting that he and Cam got closer in college even after going to the same high school — before grinning as Amanda walks down in her beautiful A-line, ball gown of a wedding dress. Ashley wipes a tear away watching Cam do the same and she thinks if only 16 year old them could see themselves now. 

(She has a moment when she looks at Jack where her stomach flips, thinking of the day they could be the ones at the altar. She quickly focuses her attention back to the front)

Cam and Amanda are pronounced husband and wife and she cheers as he dips her and kisses her, beaming and tearing up and laughing as she hears Nick wolf-whistle. People start dispersing, the large heated patio hosting a cocktail hour before the doors to the reception hall open back up again.

While she’s sipping on a glass of wine, she hears a familiar voice calling her name and she beams, carefully making sure she doesn’t spill any wine on Sean’s tuxedo as he towers over her and hugs her tightly. He introduces himself to Jack and she watches in slight amusement as they talk. 

Sean and her never really were friends, more friends by association. He was more in the popular crowd in the school that Ashley herself was never inclined to push her way through. Her and Sean shared plenty of classes together though, and always got along when forced to work together. And in another life, sometimes Ashley thinks that she would’ve had a crush on the blonde boy. 

Instead, she dated one of his teammates. And, well, that turned out the way it did.

(Ashley rolls her eyes when Sean makes a comment about how it “makes complete sense that you’re the one who ended up dating a professional athlete” because sure, Sean. Sure.)

Jack may be among many Massachusetts natives who live and die for the Bruins and are not hesitant in chirping him within 5 minutes of meeting him, but he smiles genuinely as his hand instinctively finds a way on her lower back. After dating Ashley for over a year, he’s used to the good-intentioned bluntness of New Englanders. She only starts rolling her eyes when high school gets brought up and stories about her start piling up. In contrast, Jack loves this and just eggs them on, eager to hear the stories. 

With a quick glance at the seating chart when they’re all starting to filter back into the reception hall, she finds that the high school crowd is split between two tables, and that Cam kept to his word and put her and Alex at different ones. The tables next to each other, but still. She won’t have to worry about making accidental awkward eye contact with him across her chicken. She’s the slightest bit surprised she hasn’t crossed direct paths with him yet. But there’s enough people that they wouldn’t ever be forced to interact. And maybe that’s for the best. 

Dinner passes by without incident, Ashley squeezing both Cam and Amanda tight as they come around to toast every table as Jack gives Cam a tight bro-hug and Amanda a polite kiss on the cheek. The dance floor starts to open up, and as usual, Ashley’s one of the first ones on, dragging Jack and practically their whole table out. She feels light on her feet and happy as she leans into Jack with a big smile. He ditches his suit jacket at the table and his pink tie is loosened and she thinks he looks so handsome. She’s happily tipsy enough where the curious glances and whispers from probably the entire fucking reception hall about why an NHL player is here don’t bother her. She knows he’s used to it. She doesn’t know how.

(Jack may not know everything of the lore and context behind Ashley’s relationship with the people she knows here, but he knows her and how deeply she feels and nostalgic she can get and how that can change her perception of her own memories and how that in turn, can make her extremely self critical. 

So this whole evening, he’s tried to make it as easy as possible, talking with her old friends and classmates — which isn’t much of an ask, they’re nice enough — and just squeezing her hand or waist or kissing her temple or cheek when he feels her focus trailing off. If she talks to Alex and wants him there, he’ll be right next to her. If not, he’ll make himself scarce. Whatever she wants)

Ashley’s resting at her chair while Jack’s in a casual conversation with Cam as Alex comes up behind Cam, tapping him on the shoulder. She swallows and sits up straight and Jack automatically places a gentle hand on her back. Cam and Alex exchange a few words she can’t hear before Cam turns his attention back to her and Jack feels a surge of gratitude towards Cam, who looks extremely apologetic. 

Jack watches as she stands up and steps towards Alex with a small smile. “Hey.”

Alex blinks. “Hi.” She gives him a quick hug before stepping back next to Jack as he stands up. “Alex, this is Jack, my boyfriend. Jack, Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Jack says with a firm, polite handshake and he doesn’t really see (or care about) Alex’s reaction before turning back to Ashley again, trying to read her. She gives him an almost imperceptible nod. Jack’s eyes flicker to Cam, who also nods behind Alex and he clears his throat. “I’m gonna get a refill. You two want anything?”

“All good, man.”

“Rum and coke, heavier on the coke?”

“You got it,” Jack presses a quick kiss to her hair before he and Cam walk to the bar. 

Jack waves to the bartender for a whiskey sour for himself as Cam gets a gin and tonic. They both lean against the counter and Jack sighs, watching Alex take Jack’s previous seat. “Was that a good idea? Leaving them alone?” Because he knows her, of course, but Cam’s known her longer. And he had a front row seat to her and Alex’s friendship before they got together, their relationship when they got together, and the fallout of their breakup. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. But they’re both 26 year old mature adults.” Cam’s eyes flit over to a redhead woman a couple seats away from the bar and waves her over. Jack’s trying to remember if he’s met her tonight

“Hi Cam,” she says lightly. 

“Hey yourself,” he nods over in the direction of her and Alex. “You initiate that?”

She snorts, “Of course I did.” She perches herself on a stool and sticks her hand out to Jack. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Francesca, but please call me Fran. I’m Alex’s girlfriend.”

Jack gives her a small smile. This is something. “Jack. Ashley’s boyfriend.”

“I’m aware,” she teases. “I grew up in Jersey and my brother’s a huge hockey fan. I’ve been to a couple of your games throughout the years.”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” He responds smoothly and genuinely. “Especially in a room filled with Bruins fans that could honestly poison my drink at any moment and I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky there are no Rangers fans here.” Cam waves him off as Jack and Fran laugh. 

“What a way to meet someone for the first time,” Fran says.

“While our exes are talking for the first time in over four years?” Jack says and Fran and Cam both snort. “You could say that.”

She turns to Cam, “Cam, you can go off and mingle, you know? It’s your wedding. Jack and I will be fine here.”

Jack opens his mouth to agree but Cam just shakes his head. “It’s fine. I need a second to breathe anyways. And also make sure this doesn’t go downhill.”

“Ashley seems like a smart girl and Alex isn’t that stupid,” Fran says. “They wouldn’t make a fuss at your wedding.”

Cam sighs and Jack thinks about how thankful he is that Cam has been there for his girlfriend way before Jack even knew her. Jack then turns to Fran and asks how she and Alex met and the conversation starts there, all three of them turning to the two exes from time to time to make sure there’s no flames or glasses being thrown. 

Fran talks about how she and Alex met at work and laughs in amusement when Jack explains that it was the same with him and Ashley, talking about how Ashley had been filling in for a colleague for an interview and Jack practically fell in love with her the second he saw her and had to tell himself to not sound stupid in front of the pretty girl. 

And honestly, as Jack talks to Fran, he laughs to himself a bit ironically. She reminds him a bit of Ashley. A bit too much for him personally and harsh in a different way than his girlfriend, but decent company nonetheless. So maybe he and Alex are more alike than they think. 

Meanwhile, the conversation happening merely 20 feet away between two exes is not as casual. Not as comfortable. 

“Been a long time, huh?” Alex remarks. 

Ashley tries not to scoff. “Four years.”

Alex curses under his breath. “Yeah. How are you?”

What a loaded question. She goes along with it. “I’m good.”

“Cam mentioned you’re in New York?”

“I am. Moved out there about a year after college for work. Then went to grad school there.”

“Journalist?”

She shrugs. “More or less. The title’s changed a couple times throughout the years but all in that field.”

“That’s awesome.” He runs a hand through his hair and it looks so familiar yet unfamiliar. “I still remember when you told me you got into BU. Seems like the path was always laid out for you, huh?”

She’ll have to unpack that one later. “Guess so. How about you? I heard you were in Portland. Real estate, right?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“That’s great. I’m really glad you’re doing well.”

“Thanks.” A moment of silence there. “For what it’s worth, it is really good to see you again.”

Ashley lets out a genuine smile. Small, but genuine. “Same.” 

The sound of his laughter kinda aches a bit, but not in a way that has her sad. Just nostalgic. There is some easy banter, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Ashley’s remembering a bit of why she loved him in the first place. 

There’s a pause in the conversation, before she continues, “I haven’t gotten a chance to meet whoever you’re here with yet, but-”

“Fran.”

“Fran, right.” she says. “But I’ve heard a bit. How long have you two been together?”

“Are we really going to do this?”

She swallows the urge to fire back, shrugging instead. “Why not? And don’t pretend like you’re not curious about Jack either. I figured I might as well just go first.”

Alex laughs. “Around three years for Fran and I.”

“You love her?”

“I do. A lot.”

She smiles. Genuinely this time. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“How about you and Mr. NHL Superstar?”

Again, she swallows down her instinct to fire back. “A little over a year now.”

“You happy?”

“Very.”

Alex nods once and doesn’t quite smile but has a pleasant expression on his face. “Cam said that he likes him. Which is a lot, considering I’m pretty sure he used to think that he was a cocky asshole.”

Ashley knows it’s not meant in that way because she knows that her boyfriend has somewhat of a reputation, but she gets defensive. “People aren’t always what they seem. Even if he’s a pest on the ice sometimes, he’s a wonderful guy.” You should know, she wants to say. You were the exact same way in high school.

They’re trickling into dangerous territory. She wonders if he’ll take the bait. If he does, she wonders if she’ll be strong enough not to fall for it. She wonders if he’ll apologize, not because she needs it, but because she knows she deserved one all those years ago. 

Alex leans back casually, putting his arm over the empty chair next to him. “From me to Jack fucking Hughes. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Ashley doesn’t know at all how she’s supposed to take that. Like everything he’s always done, he says it casually, taking a drink of water as she’s figuring out how to respond. She doesn’t. For the first time, she feels like she doesn’t have control of this conversation.

He notices she has no response and keeps going. “Hey, he’s a decent player and the money can’t hurt. I’m glad you’re happy.”

She swallows. A gold digger? Is that really what he’s hinting at?

Ashley almost sighs in relief when she catches sight of Jack, Cam and a woman who she presumes is Fran walking back towards them. Immediately she plasters on a smile and introduces herself to Fran, because it’s not her fault that her boyfriend still has the ability to get under her skin even so many years after their break-up. Jack presses a rum and coke in her hand silently and she thanks him quietly before making small talk with Fran. Just having Jack next to her has her blood pressure lowering. Soon enough, they all but shove Cam back into his own wedding and bid farewell as Fran excuses her and Alex and heads over to chat with someone she doesn’t recognize. 

Jack leads her outside of the main reception hall into one of the hallways, where there are people sporadically chatting and also getting away from the music for a second. 

Jack grabs her drink and faces her with a concerned look. “Ash? You okay? It seemed to get a little…tense at times.”

Ashley shrugs and chuckles. It’s bitter though, and he knows it, immediately placing a grounding hand on her waist. “I was how I always am to everyone.”

“Sure,” he responds skeptically. 

She sighs. “It was fine. I’m fine. It didn’t go badly. I don’t know if it was good. It just…was.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “It was fine. It’s not a big deal. It’s been four fucking years and it’s not like I love him anymore. I shouldn’t-”

“Hey. Stop. None of that,” Jack says softly but firmly, leaning in closer and kissing her forehead as she bites her bottom lip harshly. He holds her hand gently and presses it against his chest. “Open your eyes, baby. Take some breaths with me.”

She obeys, looking into blue eyes that have become another home for her and taking deep breaths. “Thanks.”

“Always. Wanna talk about it?”

She debates in her mind. “No. It’s a wedding. Let’s go back and have fun and dance.”

“You sure?”

She nods, before placing a peck on his lips. “I’ll probably be more in my feelings tomorrow about it. Or the next week. But for now, come dance with me.”

“Lead the way.”

Ashley doesn’t even look at Alex’s direction for the rest of the night, instead looking at Jack when she feels like the floor beneath her is gonna get pulled away. The stupidly romantic thing is, she knows he’ll catch her everytime.

three - one year and nine months

“What do you think?”

Jack looks up from where he’s sitting on her bed and his eyes pop open, jaw dropping with it. He tosses his phone to the side. “Ash. Holy shit.”

Ashley twirls around in the yellow ruffle dress. “I like this one the most, but I don’t think it’s fancy enough.”

She looks up to see him biting his lip, eyes scanning her body. She blushes as he beckons her to stand inbetween his legs. “Don’t care. You have to wear this one, please. It fits you perfectly.”

She smoothes down the ruffles. “Are you sure it’s fancy enough?”

“Honey, most of the guys probably won’t even be wearing ties,” she settles her hands in his hair. “Wear this one. I know you love it and you look beautiful in it.”

She lets out a breath. “Okay, yeah. I can pair it with those flower earrings and matching bracelet and I think Scarlett has white heels I could borrow and-”

“Woah there,” he chuckles, rubbing his thumbs on the fabric at her hips. “Did you have too much coffee today? You’re talking a million miles a minute.”

“No,” she drawls out. “I’m just…nervous? This is the first thing we’re going to that’s so…”

“Public?” He finishes for her. She nods. He pushes her gently so that she’s sitting next to him. “I get that. I’m a bit nervous too. But I’ll be there the whole time. And you’ll have my parents and Quinn. And Nico will be there too. Besides, you’re great with people. I’ve seen you in action.”

She shrugs modestly. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it you’re worried about?”

She swallows at his tone, because she doesn’t think he gets it. Why would he? He’s not the one that’s going to be scrutinized by his fans. At least not to the degree she would be. “Everyone else’s thoughts.”

Jack nods slowly in realization. He leans in to kiss her lips twice. She has to admit it makes her feel a bit better. His kisses usually do. “You know no one else’s opinions mean anything. Besides, it’s very clear to anyone that I’m happily taken.”

And he has a point. She’s made an appearance on his Instagram with two photos in his annual summer dump — one was just of her in the city and the other was of the two of them by the lake in Michigan — and he hadn’t tagged her, but it was clearly a message to the world that he wasn’t a single man. Social media doesn’t matter and it never will, but it had been a decision they both had come to, Jack approaching her gently and asking if he could post them. 

But having it through a screen and having it in real life is different. 

“I know it’s stupid,” she says. “But you know me. I don’t particularly enjoy being out of my element.”

“I know, I know,” he bumps her knee with his. “It’ll be fun though. We’ll get drunk the night before and maybe I’ll be hungover the next morning and you get to tell Luke if I do anything embarrassing.”

Ashley laughs. “That does sound fun.”

“Exactly.” He cups her face in his hands. “I gotcha, baby. Always.”

She trusts in that when she lands in Boston a few days later. She trusts in that as she gets swept in a world she’s not quite comfortable in, but finds there are a lot more similarities than differences compared to environments she’s been in. She’s a journalist after all. It’s her job in a way to blend into different lives in order to get the best and most impactful stories. She trusts in that as she’s rolling her eyes fondly at Jack, who’s chatting with practically everyone at the bar. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this many hockey players in one room. She trusts in that as Jack then always drags whoever he’s talking to so that he can introduce her. 

For someone who has always valued their privacy, Jack is making it pretty obvious that the “stunning girl in the floral shirt” is his. Ashley can’t say she hates it, even if it’s a little bold for her particular taste. 

“He looks happy, doesn’t he?” Ellen asks as they both watch Jack across the room with Auston Matthews. Ashley’s cousins in Toronto would be freaking out right now. 

Ashley snickers. “Drunk or happy?”

“Both?” Ellen raises her glass up to knock it against Ashley’s in a toast.

“I’ll drink to that.” 

“Thank you for coming. I know it means a lot to Jack that you’re here.”

“Thank you all for having me,” Ashley responds, suddenly a bit shy. “It’s, been, uh, a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

“I can imagine,” Ellen smiles sympathetically. “All this hockey stuff, business wise, is more Jimmy’s scene than mine.”

“Really?” Ashley thinks to all that Jack’s told her about his mother and all the warmth Ellen has emitted since they’ve met, not to mention how everyone they’ve talked to — player, coach, agent — has gravitated towards Ellen.

To her credit, Ellen chuckles. “That’s fair. Jack tells me that you know how to work a room, which is something that Jimmy’s always said about me.”

Ashley traces the rim of her glass. “I think Jack gives me too much credit.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Ellen says with a knowing smile. “I read your article the other day. The one about the family who’s had to travel across the country to get care for their child. Quinn sent it to me, actually.” Quinn read it? She doesn’t remember sending it to him. Did Jack send it to him? “It’s an incredible piece of work. How long did that take you?”

“From start to finish? Around two months.”

Ellen grins, placing a motherly hand on her shoulder. “You’re so talented, honey. I try to keep up with everything you write, but you do so much that sometimes I lose track.”

"You really don’t have to do that. But thank you, Ellen. T-that means a lot to me.” 

“What does Mom not have to do?” Jack asks, squeezing himself next to his girlfriend.

“Read my articles.”

Jack grins. “Why not? They’re so good. Our family group chat is filled with them. Dad always loves your profiles.”

Ashley swallows. She’s pretty confident that the Hughes family likes her, but the fact that they all keep track of her published articles is a bit too much for her to handle right now. She downs the rest of her beer and waves Jack away when he opens his mouth to ask if she wants his. Instead, he asks the bartender for a ginger ale. Ashley’s grateful. 

The next day, Ashley smiles as Jack’s walking the carpet. He’s up for the Hart trophy this year and as he squats down to greet a little boy and sign his jersey, Ashley can’t help but let her love and pride for him soar. She’s as out of the way as she can be, trying not to get overwhelmed with all the voices and flashes around her. It helps that Ellen and Jim seem to always be nearby and she makes fast friends with Nina and Luca, who are watching Nico do similar things. 

She gets pulled out of her own world with a familiar hand on her waist. “Hey,” Jack murmurs into her ear. 

“Hi.”

“Do you wanna jump into a few pictures with me?” Jack asks softly. “It’ll only take a few minutes. No pressure if not.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He beams, offering an arm as he leads them over to where the photographers are. She tries not to blink too much as the flashes hurt her eyes and hopes she and Jack are looking in the same direction. 

“You look beautiful,” he pairs his sincere compliment with a squeeze of her waist. 

She smiles at the cameras for a few seconds before turning to him slightly. “You already said that.”

“I know. It’s worth repeating.”

Thankfully, it’s only about 30 seconds before everyone else — Quinn, Jack’s parents and Nico’s family — are being ushered in for a group photo. She finds herself inbetween Jack and Nico and giggles as Nico tries to blow his hair out of his face. She takes pity on him after a few tries and she reaches up to fix it for him quickly, Nina laughing on the other side of her brother. 

“Stop messing with it,” Ashley scolds lightly through clenched teeth, smiling for the pictures. “You’re gonna make it worse.” She giggles when Nico pokes her side a few seconds later. 

When Jack wins the Hart, Ashley leaps out of her seat in excitement. To her, he’s always going to be the best player she knows because she sees firsthand how hard he works, but it’s nice that his peers are recognizing it too. He places a quick kiss on her lips before going up on stage and Ashley’s clapping and laughing to herself. He was dreading having to make any sort of speech. 

After the ceremony, she just follows everyone to whatever swanky rooftop seemingly the entire NHL is gathering at. She finds herself flocking towards Nina for a lot of the evening as they both exchange fun stories and memories of their own lives over drinks. Ashley thinks she could keep talking to Nina for the rest of her life. She’s just so damn cool. 

The next day, she drags Jack around the BU campus and is happy pointing out buildings that she had classes in, cried in, cheered in and lived her life in. They walk from one end of Com Ave to the other, Ashley dutifully pointing out Agganis Arena (“I’m sure Trevor has some good memories in this building”), their starting point.

She stands in front of the College of Communication building and stops. Jack dutifully stops next to her. “This building kinda looks like shit.”

Ashley snorts. “Yeah, I know. Especially compared to all the science buildings.” She bites her lip. “It all started here.”

“What did?”

“The dream.”

And yeah, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But Jack said similar things when he brought her to Toronto earlier this year, so she knows he understands. 

Almost two years together now, she’s convinced that no one will really ever understand her like Jack does. 

He nudges her hip with his, the breeze blowing comfortably through her hair and rustling the plants around them. They watch as a student walks through the front doors. “Wanna go in?” 

She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good.” She tugs at his hand while sipping the lavender lemonade from Pavement in the other. “Come on. I’ll show you Bay State. I lived there my junior year after I came back from studying abroad in Dublin.”

Bay State Road is beautiful as always in the Boston summer, Ashley’s hand in Jack’s. She drags him out into the middle of the road and only squeals once when a car is coming and he pulls her to the sidewalk. 

Campus isn’t the same when classes aren’t in session, but she hopes Jack can still feel some of the magic in the air through her stories. 

“It suits you.”

She turns to Jack. “Hm?”

“This city. It suits you.”

“Oh,” she blushes for some reason. “Thanks.”

“Do you miss it here?”

“All the time,” Ashley admits. “New York is great, but Boston will always be home.”

“Would you think of working here? If given the option?” Jack asks. 

“Maybe,” Ashley squeezes Jack’s hand, “But I also have reasons to stay in New York.”

He smirks, but it quickly transitions into something gentler. “Yeah?”

She could throw something snarky back at him, but she looks around the brownstones and lets out a deep breath. This is home, but flashes of Hoboken and East Village flicker in her mind and that’s also home. 

She looks at Jack and feels overwhelmed. Oh. It’s Boston. It’s Hoboken. It’s East Village. It’s him. Jack is home.

four - two years

“Big day, huh?” 

Ashley just smiles at Carissa, nudging her side. “We’ve come a long way since that phone call at 2 a.m.”

Carissa just snorts. “That phone call got us here.”

“True,” Ashley squeezes her arm as they make their way to their assigned table. “Love you, girly.”

“Love you more. I’m proud of us.”

Ashley grins, looking around as everyone is mingling amongst each other. There are past award winners here and Ashley’s already done some of her internal fangirling, especially when Lynsey Addario came up to her and wanted to talk to her. 

She’s still decently new in this industry and knows she has so much to learn, but it’s comforting to see that all of her hard work has paid off. 

People are starting to take their seats and Ashley looks around at her colleagues. Everyone’s dressed up and looks so lovely and Ashley smiles, looking down at her midnight blue dress. When Jack had seen her walk out of the changing room in it a few weeks ago, his eyes had popped out. 

(“Fuck,” he had said. “Now I’m even more pissed I can’t make it to the dinner.”)

And yeah, it would be nice if he was here. But the Devils are playing the Islanders tonight. It sucks that he’s so close but so far away, but after two years now, it’s just part of the gig. And they make it work. So Ashley isn’t too upset about it, even if Jack is. 

She’s a bit confused when there is an empty seat next to her, as it seems like the ballroom is filled. There’s no nametag there either, but her attention soon drifts off to the front. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too hard. 

The Pulitzer Prize Awards Ceremony at Columbia University, also her alma mater in a way. Her 18-year-old-self who was sitting in the front row of Introduction to Journalism in Boston could’ve only dreamed about this day. 

Opening remarks start and Ashley really does try to listen, but her eyes glaze over as her mind drifts off. She claps as the first few awards are being presented. She thinks about all the hours that it took to get this piece down, but also all the hours before — in her classes, at her college paper, in her internships, during her job search. The times she wanted to throw in the towel and just do something else. Anything else.  

“I didn’t miss too much, did I?” She blinks, turning to the voice next to her. She freezes. 

“Jack?” She breathes out. She hasn’t been sleeping much this week, so this could very well be a hallucination. 

He beams and she reaches to place her hand on his cheek and she realizes as she scans her eyes up and down.  Oh. He’s in her favorite suit of his. And he’s here. 

“Oh my god,” she wraps her arms around his neck as her whole table cheers. Thankfully, there’s a lull in the ceremony where the whole room is blanketed in a low buzz. “What the f-don’t you have a game?”

“Technically,” Jack says, nodding at her coworkers with a charming smile. “Took a personal day.”

“What? You can do that?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, like he didn’t just skip a game to be here. He rubs his thumb on her shoulder as he kisses her temple. “This is a huge deal, baby. I wasn’t gonna miss it. I’m so proud of you.”

“Lindy’s not mad? Nico’s not mad?”

Jack snorts. “The second you won, I told Lindy to count me out for the game so he can do what he wants with that. Nico’s lowkey pissed he also can’t be here.” He turns to Carissa on the other side and beams. “Hey Care. Congrats.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Carissa beams. “Surprised you pulled this off.”

“Surprised we pulled this off.”

Ashley looks at Carissa. “You knew about this?”

“Of course. Who do you think made sure he would have a seat?”

She looks between her colleague and her boyfriend. Something creeps up her throat that feels a lot like love. 

When her and Carissa are recognized and they have to go up to accept the award and give a short speech, it’s kinda a blur. All she remembers is Jack’s kiss on her cheek and receiving a standing ovation as she and Carissa walk up together. So many hours with her eyes glazed over glaring at the laptop. So many hours interviewing with people and reconfirming facts. So many hours dedicated to this one piece. 

She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As Carissa is speaking, she locks eyes with Jack. He’s beaming and his eyes are actually sparkling. His hair tousled and he’s so handsome and he’s hers. 

(She almost trips walking back to him) 

He chuckles, pulling her into another tight hug. “You’re amazing, baby. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. “Thank you for calming me down all the times I was freaking out.”

“Of course. I’m sure all those glasses of cold water helped,” he jokes. She always said the ice cold water he would place next to her laptop would wake up her brain. 

She laughs into his shoulder. “They did.”

He pulls away and just stares at her, smile still on his face. Their attention is taken away by someone who wants to congratulate Ashley and has no recognition on their face when looking at Jack. 

(Jack looks on with pride)

plus one - three years and four months

Stanley Cups are interesting. Even some of the best athletes of all time have never gotten one. And some that are only slightly above average perhaps were just placed on the right team in the right season. 

But this Stanley Cup, in Ashley’s completely unbiased opinion, this one was fully deserved. By every single person on the team. 

She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolute joy in Nico’s eyes as he lifted the cup in the air to a roaring crowd at The Rock, or how long the hug between Jack and Luke was when the final whistle sounded, or seeing Ellen cry as her two sons beckoned her in for a picture with the cup, her other son and husband standing close by with pride in their eyes. 

The picture of her and Jack by the cup as he’s kissing her cheek as she smiles so widely her eyes are shut might be her favorite picture of them of all time. 

Ashley had wondered if Jack was going to bring the cup to Toronto or Michigan. He ended up bringing it to Toronto while Luke brought it to Michigan. It ended up being all the same, since they were both present at both. 

Jack winning the Cup is obviously a huge celebration. But he’s not the only one with something to celebrate.

Yesterday, when they were out to lunch with some of his extended family, Ashley had found out by phone that she was just promoted to be a director of her team. After her phone call, she had just covered her mouth in shock as she sat down on a nearby bench. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a concerned Jack came up to her and asked what was wrong, before she told him and he smothered her face in kisses. 

The parade around his pseudo-hometown is absolutely insane. Ashley doesn’t even know how she has a voice by mid-afternoon, much less how Jack has one considering that he’s been yelling all day. At some point, she forces him to sit down and chug a giant water bottle. 

But she can’t overthink too hard. Her phone’s filled with pictures of Jack with his loved ones and she just feels proud. 

Some of Jack’s extended family who still live in the area offered their home to host a party that night with just friends and family. Ashley did all she could to help prepare, which included coming over to decorate the night before and parking herself in the kitchen the second they got there to offer a helping hand. Well, she tried, before every single person pushed her away and insisted she go join the celebrations. 

She finds herself in a long, in-depth conversation with one of Jack’s younger cousins who’s thinking about working in media when she notices it suddenly becomes quiet. Suddenly, the light flickers off and Ashley is confused.

Jack then walks in with a circular cake with candles lit paired with his beautiful smile. Ashley blinks in confusion as everyone’s eyes fall on her and before she can ask what the hell is going on, Luke bounds over to her and swings an arm around her shoulder, shaking her. 

“Congrats on your promotion, Ash!” Luke exclaims. 

Her mouth drops open and she looks around as everyone in the room cheers and shouts out their congratulations. She chuckles in shock as Jack walks closer. And then suddenly, all she can focus on is him. 

“What are you doing?” She whispers, suddenly wanting to cry. 

“Come on,” he says with the softest smile. “You didn’t think I’d just keep the news to myself, did you?”

“But this is your day,” she chokes out. 

“My day. Your day. It’s all the same, eh?” Jack nods at the candles. “Hurry up. My arms are getting tired.”

A watery laugh from her before she blows out the candles at everyone’s cheers. Jack places the cake on a nearby table before smothering her in a tight hug. Ashley’s heart could burst right now at the love she feels from the people in the room and the person in her arms. She gets a chance to really look at the cake, which is white and sage with “Congratulations Jack and Ashley!” in beautiful script at the center. The lights turn back on and Quinn’s the first one who comes up to hug her. As Ellen is giving Ashley a kiss on the cheek, she sees Jack over Ellen’s shoulder, smiling at her. 

She swallows as she pulls away, before glancing at the ring on her left finger. Ashley’s never let herself want much in her life. But if someone asked her what she wants with her life, she would just place them in this room. Right here. Right now. 

(They cut the cake together. Ashley feels a buzzing joy throughout her bones)

[moodymelanist]

This is a half-baked request, but I literally have never stopped thinking about the cuddlefuck you wrote for Nessian last year (?) and would love another!

we take half baked requests around these parts too! here’s the original in case anyone wants to read that one hehe

Nesta was nearly snoring into her evidence casebook when a large, warm hand found its way onto her shoulder blade.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, his voice soft. “You’re not gonna learn anything like this.”

“Hmm?” Nesta answered. She’d been trying to get her weekly reading done ahead of time, but clearly her lack of sleep was catching up to her. Cassian hadn’t even been home when she’d started, but she must have dozed off long enough for him to finish his own grad school coursework. “What?”

“Come take a nap,” her boyfriend said, shifting his grip to help her sit up. “You need the rest.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily. Once she made sure her page was marked and her notes were saved, she let him guide her into their bedroom. “Nap with me?”

Cassian was more than happy to oblige, and they both kicked off their house shoes before sliding under the covers. Nesta was already more than a little sleepy, so being surrounded by Cassian’s warm bulk was more than enough to pull her completely under. She was out so quickly that she barely registered him pressing a kiss to her temple, but it was just the thing she needed.

When Nesta woke up, the sun was significantly lower in the sky, the covers were half off the bed, and Cassian’s cock was hard where they were pressed together.

“Cassian,” Nesta whispered. She’d rolled nearly completely on top of him while she was asleep, and she was actively fighting the temptation to roll her hips against his. “Cassian, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Cassian mumbled back. He looked so peaceful lying there that she almost didn’t want to wake him, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before her cunt would be clenching around nothing. “Five more minutes.”

“Cassian,” she repeated louder this time, throwing caution to the wind and grinding against his cock. “Wake up. I want to ride your dick.”

His eyes flew open. “I’m up.”

“Great,” she said, already starting to take her clothes off. “Now take off your clothes.”

Nesta briefly got off the bed so she could take off her clothes, and Cassian managed to shuck his own by the time she was finished. His cock was jutting straight up from his body, already leaking, and she couldn’t wait to take every inch.

“Fuuuuuck,” Cassian groaned, his mouth falling open a little bit as Nesta straddled him, lined herself up, and slowly slid down his cock. She couldn’t help her own moan as he filled her, stretching her perfectly full just the way she liked. “Nesta…”

“God, I needed this,” Nesta replied, panting a little bit once she was fully seated. She planted her feet and splayed her hands against his chest so she could start riding him properly. “Been thinking about this cock all day.”

“Yeah?” His hands flew up to grab her waist and help her bounce on his cock even faster, freeing one of her hands to move between her legs. “Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. Take what you need.”

“Gonna milk you dry,” she continued, her brain to mouth filter completely evaporating in the face of how good she felt. She couldn’t help it; he just made her crazy, especially when she got to see the look on his face when she added, “I want your come dripping out of me when we’re done.”

Cassian groaned, shifting underneath Nesta so he could thrust upwards while she kept bouncing on his cock. “Yeah? You love when I pump that greedy pussy full?”

“God, don’t stop,” she breathed. She was so close, her fingers speeding up to match the brutal pace of his thrusts. “Fuck, I need it, I’m so close, Cassian—”

Nesta cried out as she came, clenching hard around Cassian’s cock. He didn’t waste a moment, shifting his grip to pull her down so he could keep fucking up into her through her orgasm, and within a few moments he was coming too. She moaned again at the feeling of him coming inside her, grinding into him a little bit to get his come as far inside her as she could, and whimpering at the tiny aftershocks it sent through her.

“Jesus, Nes,” Cassian said once they’d both caught their breaths. “That was one hell of a study break.”

Nesta just laughed softly. “Maybe they had a point with work hard, play harder.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[drewharrisonwriter]

Friends Without Benefits

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Word Count: 10.5k words

Warnings: strong language, heavy flirtation, sexual tension (no smut--can you believe it??), mentions of past affairs and scandals, alcohol consumption, references to Dieter’s reckless behavior, mentions of drug use, emotional vulnerability, humor, inappropriate jokes (because, Dieter!), legal contract about not fucking

A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fourth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, or just by simply commenting or reblogging, it would mean the world to me. 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she’d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter’s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

[beom-pyu]

truth or drink! (my ex + my boyfriend): choi beomgyu + kang taehyun

part 2 of the truth or drink series! i'm addicited to writing these omg

other parts: yeonjun "couples edition" soobin "engaged edition" kai "blind date edition"

slightly nsfw! (minors dni.)

welcome to truth or drink! y/n’s ex and boyfriend will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.

“hi! i’m beomgyu, y/n’s ex.”

“i’m taehyun, y/n’s current partner.”

YOU: why did you agree to come here today?

BG: “you told me there would be free drinks so…”

YOU: “i knew you were gonna say that.”

BG: “also because it sounded interesting! i’ve known both of them for a few years, so i think it’ll be fun.”

YOU: and taehyun?

TH: “i know you’ve changed a lot since you were with beomgyu and i’m curious to see how things worked between you guys so i know what not to do.”

BG: “was that shade?”

YOU: “i’m pretty sure that was shade.”

taehyun just smiles and leans back in his seat.

how long have you dated, or have been dating y/n?

BG: “close to two years.”

TH: “five months.”

what’s the relationship between you guys?

TH: “i think we’re pretty civil? not as close as we used to be, but that happened kind of naturally.”

BG: “yeah, we hung out every now and then before i moved to a different city. i’d definitely say we’re friends, right?”

TH: “almost-friends.”

BG: “i’ll take it.”

shall we start?

BG: “wait, i’m gonna need a shot to get through this.”

TH: “cheers.”

taehyun pulls a card and immediately flips it back over.

BG: “you have to read it!”

TH: “anything but this one, god.”

BG: “you have to take five shots if you don’t read it.”

taehyun squints, but gives in anyways.

TAEHYUN: what would it take to have a threesome with us?

BG: “maybe like $15 and a big mac combo?”

YOU: “how do you feel about that, taehyun?”

TH: “immediately no.”

BG: have you ever been jealous of me?

TH: “i’ll be honest. i used to be a little jealous.”

BG: “of me? i’m surprised.”

TH: “you guys were still close after your break up, so it felt a little weird when we started dating.”

YOU: “this is news to me too.”

TH: “it was more so my own insecurities rather than jealousy, really.”

BG: “no, i’m gonna hold on to this forever. the kang taehyun was jealous of me!”

TH: “okay, moving on.”

TH: what’s something you taught them in bed that i’m benefitting from?

BG: “oh! i definitely taught them how to deep throat. it was rough in the beginning.”

YOU: “i’m still embarrassed.”

TH: “don’t worry baby, you’re doing great.”

BG: “yea, thanks to me!”

BG: why do you think i wasn’t a good match for my ex?

TH: “you guys are polar opposites. your personalities clash too much.”

BG: “yeah, i’d agree with that."

TH: "also you're too soft."

BG: "i'm not soft!"

YOU: "you're a little soft."

BG: "are you guys like teaming up on me or something?"

taehyun shrugs and you giggle under your breath.

TH: why do you think your ex likes me?

BG: “you got your shit together, man. like, you have the soul of a 45-year-old, i’m not joking.”

TH: “i’m gonna take that as a compliment...?"

BG: "whatever makes you happy."

BG: how have i affected your partner’s life, for better or for worse?

TH: “hm... i feel like you taught them a lot of life lessons. you guys dated when you were, what.. 19, 20?”

BG: “yeah, we were both really young, so i think we learned a lot from each other.”

you nod at the camera with a little smile and a thumbs up.

TH: did you ever hook up with my partner after we started dating?

BG: “nope. i don’t do shit like that.”

YOU: “yup. i’m completely satisfied with taehyun in bed.”

BG: “swiftly moving on!”

BG: have you two come close to breaking up? if so, what happened?

TH: “pass me the bottle.”

YOU: “no, no, go ahead. answer the question.”

TH: “okay, we broke up after the first two weeks, but we got back together the next day.”

BG: “i need the details, you can’t just leave it at that.”

TH: “i wanted to focus on grad school and i thought i couldn’t make time for a relationship, but i realized i couldn’t lose y/n, so we worked things out.”

BG: "okay romeo and juliet."

YOU: "that's not even how the story goes."

BG: "it's up for interpretation."

TH: is there any part of you that’s not over the breakup? any regrets?

BG: “our friendship definitely took a hit after breaking up and i really regret losing them as an important person in my life. i think i was very immature and didn’t really know exactly what i wanted at the time, so i took my emotions out on them. i was trying to pursue a relationship while still trying to figure myself out.”

YOU: “i think i was the same way. you were my first serious relationship, so it was pretty rocky and i definitely have a lot of regrets, but we both grew from it.”

BG: has my ex ever talked about our sex life with you. if so, what did they say about me?

taehyun swiftly fills up his shot glass.

BG: “what did you say?!”

YOU: “too much, apparently.”

taehyun nods in agreement before downing the shot.

TH: on a scale of one to ten, how good was the sex?

BG: “uhhh…”

beomgyu reaches for the bottle.

YOU: “i didn’t think it was that bad, oh my god.”

TH: “well, i can say you’ve definitely improved, then.”

BG: “i’m taking another shot.”

BG: who’s hotter, you or me?

TH: “you.”

BG: “i was gonna say you’re hotter!”

TH: “well, let’s ask the audience.”

they both turn towards you with expectant looks.

...

YOU: “am i allowed to take a shot too?”

TH: do you think i’m a good match for my partner, and can you ever see us in a long-term relationship?

BG: “you guys are probably one of the healthiest couples i know. it’s actually kind of freaky how well you guys go together.”

you can’t help the little smile that forms on your

face. 

BG: “you definitely show y/n how much they deserve to be loved and i can see that you are both really happy. tae-y/n for life!”

TH: “that was actually kind of sweet. i wasn’t expecting this.”

BG: “i can be a cutie pie when i want to be.”

TH: “okay, that’s enough of that.”

how were the questions?

BG: "honestly a little awkward, but they weren't as bad as i thought they were gonna be."

taehyun silently nods in agreement.

do you think you're officially friends after this?

TH: "not really—"

BG: "yes—wow..."

TH: "we're cool, though."

BG: "hey, no hard feelings. wait, producer, can i take this bottle home? really? thank you!"

[drdemonprince]

I really appreciate the conversations around academia and grad school that have been happening here the past couple days. I was wondering, if you're comfortable sharing, how (if) you navigate these conversations with undergrads? I have a silly low level research job where I interact with a lot of undergrad psych majors. I'm very flattered that I'm someone they ask for advice but fuck am I underqualified (although I don't exactly trust other people at this institution to give them any better advice). Aaallll of them want to go to grad school, and I am constantly trying to find the balance between talking them out of it because I genuinely think it would do them more harm than good but not wanting to discourage them. I push really hard for taking time off school before applying and try to remind them that they have other options, but also the job market does Fucking Suck and their psych degrees will only be useful for a handful of over saturated jobs.

My advice is also woefully undermined by the fact that I just applied to grad school (oops). I only applyied to funded programs, absolutely need the degree to do the work I like, don't have any debt to pay off, am comfortable with an extremely frugal life style, and have left enough bad situations that I feel confident I would be capable of quitting. I'm also close with a lot of grad students in the field and know them, their horror stories, and enough about myself to feel like I'm making an informed choice. I am the .001% of people for who I think grad school is an okay decision, or at least have deluded myslef into thinking I am. I know a lot of these students are asking me for advice becuase they want to be on the same path that I'm on, but I think it would be an awful experience for almost all of them. It's not a good path!

This turned into more rant than question, but I'm curious if you or others have experienced similar sentiments. And if yes, what do you tell students?

Much love, your writing has had a huge (positive) impact on me.

When I teach psych courses, I literally pull up a chart for my students showing that only 10% of graduate school applicants get acceptance in my field, and then I pull up the job placement stats showing that more and more PhDs enter a job market with fewer and fewer jobs available each year. I try to be candid about the risks and costs, and share what an undergrad advisor once told me -- that every year thousands of people who would have made great psychologists didnt make it and that it's not their fault. I always tell people it is their own decision, and I do not mean to be negative, I just want them to have realistic expectations so they can adjust if something does not work out.

[gigidragonbbxxx]

working with limits, a story

disclaimer: we are limitless. anything can be achieved with the power of the mind. this is to help people who overthink.

if a limit of yours shows up somewhere along the journey of manifesting a certain goal:

acknowledge it. do not repress. use it to pivot into your new story.

eg. I used think ____, but I know that's not true anymore. I am now ____.

my own story

my desired body is typically obtained in the gym with years of hard work and a dedicated focus on nutrition. I'm currently in grad school so I don't have time to workout like an IG influencer but I want to look like one.

Ordinary people would WEEP and stay in the same story of "its not obtainable!" while master manifesters smirk and say "LOL, ITS MY BODY NOWWWW"

I know that waking up with your perfect body is 100% POSSIBLE. Overnight subs/aff tapes + living in the end state + saturation to the max = fast asf results

so why wasn't I achieving it?

why was I manifesting money, attention, material things, etc. but for some reason my body was not changing?

I was meditating and doing some inner work when I realized that I had a serious weird rooted limited belief that

I had bad genetics and every woman in my family (both sides) have never achieved a flat tummy or a super toned body. So I was unconsciously always affirming that I could "never" look like that.

I thought great bodies could ONLY be achieved with hard work - which we know is soooooo untrue!

Instead of forcing myself to do a method I realized - I could work with my limit.

I was never truly "athletic" but I did run cross country/track in high school for 3 years. I fell off once I went to college and mostly did weird sporadic workouts but was never consistent.

Now that I've discovered the law and am freed from my old way of thinking, I said - okay let me play a little psychology game with myself, a little placebo.

my new placebo has been:

No matter what workout I do, the moment I step into the gym, I am losing my belly fat and getting super fast results every day.

Why do you do this Gigi instead of just sitting at home and affirming for your body?

Because I realized it would be easier for me to stay saturated/in the wish fulfilled/end state of having my perfect body just by physically forcing myself to be in a gym.

Let me clarify: I mostly walk on the treadmill, lift very very light weights, minimal sets, etc.

aka: most people would say I'm not doing enough.

But I'm a master manifester so I know that just deciding is enough.

I realized it was easier to visualize people saying "Wow she changed her body, it's because she goes to the gym now! She must've done a lot of work cause she got those results fast!" instead of "Wow she changed her body, idk how!"

Ever since I started going consistently and doing very bare minimum workouts - my body has changed way more drastically than normal limits allow.

I basically look like I've been working out for 6 months versus just the 2 I've actually been going.

My personal goal was fast results but gradual. If you want instant, please be my guest I am not limiting, I'm just sharing what worked for me.

I robotically affirm that lil placebo and it's changed my entire approach to manifesting.

I will see if I can post pictures of myself that will ensure privacy. Until then, just my words and encouragement.

Let me finish this lil post by saying: you do not need to do what I do. You can go ahead and do everything instantly. Everyone is different. I'm just sharing what worked for me, what helped me ease into being firm with what I wanted the 3D to reflect to me.

xx, gigi

[waterfire1848]

omgomgomg i wanna ask one ship prompt!! okay okay

20. azula (college student) / katara (oceanograpy professor)

heated debate and maybe angry doing-the-nasty?????? 👀

Hello, @ragzonacamrencruise !! Here you go!

Modern AU setting and note that the sex scene isn’t explicit by any means but it is there so…don’t want to see don’t read

Katara set her belongings down on her desk, pushing her hair back which had fallen in her face when she leaned down. Her heart was pounding in her chest while she stood in front of the long table. Before her were four wide rows of seats, all of which had one long desk, in the shape of a half circle, from one end of the room to the other. The only space left on the sides of the room were for the stairs so students could walk up to the front of the classroom or the back.

Katara took a final look down at her phone. 10:20 am. Her class would be starting in about ten minutes. Her very first class on oceanography. Katara brushed her hand through her hair one final time. She really, really had to make a good impression on her students. The school had been nervous to hire someone so young, Katara was 24 having just finished grad school, but agreed while promising to keep an eye on her. There was no misunderstanding their tone: You screw this up and we fire you and blacklist you from teaching at every university.

That's why she was so nervous when the first student walked in and took her seat, choosing to sit in the front row. The woman had long black hair with golden eyes and wore a red jacket, black shirt and jeans. She took her seat then proceeded to pull out everything she needed.

"Excuse me. Should you be back there?" She asked, "The professor will get mad if she finds out you were messing with her things."

"I am the professor." Katara said, "My name is Katara South. You can call me Professor South." She smiled, but the student still looked confused.

"You're teaching this class? Are you like a teaching aid or something?"

"No. I'm 24. I got my degree and decided I wanted to teach what I learned at college so here I am." Katara said, "What's your name?"

"Azula Agni." The student said, "I'm a senior."

"Ah and why are you interesting in oceanography?" Katara asked.

"I'm not." Wow. She didn't need to say it so bluntly, "I'm just taking this class because I need an easy one." Azula explained.

"Easy? This is advanced oceanography." Katara told her, "It'll get pretty challenging." Azula scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not afraid of a few tests or pop quizzes." Azula grinned, "I'll probably end this class with a perfect A+."

"We'll see." Katara said, a smile growing on her face.

Was it childish to be feuding with a student? Yes. Did Katara care? No. Well, she kind of did because Azula could easily report her and get her fired but there was no way she was letting Azula know that.

Slowly, the other students began to fill the room and take their seats. Katara spent the first day telling the students a little about herself, the tests, paper and final they would be doing.

“I hope you all have a great semester in my class! If you ever have any questions or concerns or problems you can come talk to me at any point in time. I encourage you to come talk to me instead of suffering on your own.” Katara chuckled, “As someone who just graduated grad school I know how importance it is to get those moments to rest. I hope I’ll get to see all of you tomorrow for our next class!” The students all stood up and began to walk out.

Katara heard the students begin to whisper and talk as they walked out of the room. However, Katara couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azula. In all fairness, Azula was looking at Katara as well. Her golden eyes never left Katara’s blue ones the entire time she packed up.

“See you tomorrow, Professor.” Azula said, standing up and leaving the room

———————————

Azula wasn’t kidding when she said that she wouldn’t have a problem with the class. She was easily one of, if not, the best student in the class. Constantly turning everything in a day in advance, including paragraphs of explanations and arriving to class every day.

Then, one day, she didn’t show up. Katara definitely noticed her absence but it was to be expected. Students wouldn’t show up all the time. But when Azula missed every class, Katara grew nervous. She send over an email to her twice and received nothing.

Finally, Azula returned but she was different. She was quiet and missing her classic snark. When Katara put everyone in groups, Azula’s group came to her at the end of the class and told her Azula didn’t do any work.

“Azula. Can you stay here for a few minutes?” Katara called.

“Sure.” Katara waited for everyone to leave before she sat down next to Azula.

“Azula? What’s wrong? You missed class, you aren’t talking and you didn’t do any work in today’s group work.” She said.

“My apologies.” Azula said. Her breathing was weird, as if she was keeping herself from crying, “It’s been a…difficult time. I’ll be better next class.”

“Azula, I just want to know what’s going on. You’re the best student here. I want to know as much as I can so I can-“

“You won’t care. It’s just petty college stuff.” Azula scoffed.

“Do you think it’s been like a decade since I was in college? I was in my senior year three years ago.” Katara tried to add a little laugh to her voice but Azula remained quiet, “Please.”

“My friends blocked me on everything and they said they don’t want to talk to me. I…I don’t have any friends now.” Her voice was quiet but Katara could still hear the sadness in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, Azula. Is there anything I can do?” Probably not much she could do, even if she was a professor, but it seemed like the right thing to say here.

“Could I eat lunch in here?” Azula asked.

Katara blinked her eyes in shocked, “Umm sure. Of course you can.” Much to Katara’s surprise, Azula launched forward and hugged her. Katara found herself wrapping her own arms around the woman.

“Oh. I umm…I should get going.” Azula pushed herself away from Katara, got up and ran out of the room, leaving Katara a little shocked but mostly happy. She didn’t know why but it filled her with warmth to know she could spend more time with Azula.

——————————---

The longer the months went on, the more Katara found herself staying after class with Azula for longer periods of time. Their conversations started with topics from class then fell into conversations about their own lives and experiences.

“No way! Is your brother Zuko Agni?” Katara asked. The two were sitting across from one another at a table in the classroom. They had started off talking about their own education, respectively, and the subject turned somehow to their brothers.

“Yes. My deepest apologies to you if you know him.”

“He dated my brother for a few months. They broke up when Sokka left after grad school.” Katara told her.

“Oh, I remember. He refused to listen to anything that wasn’t some sad and depressing breakup song. I thought I was going to lose my mind.” Azula groaned.

“If it’s any consolation I had to endure Sokka texting me 50 times a day asking if he made the right decision. One of the smartest people I know and one of the most indecisive.” Katara chuckled, "So, how are finals going?"

"Decent. Your final is looking to be my easiest." Azula said.

"Oh, really?"

"Yup. It'll be fun to easily ace this." Katara only rolled her eyes.

"Don't get cocky. The final might be harder than you think." Katara warned.

"You're a professor. Aren't you supposed to say that I'm such a good student and I'll have no trouble as long as I study?" Azula asked.

"All those things are true." Katara admitted, "But if you get overconfident then won't do as well on the final. I might have some tricks up my sleeve that you don't know about."

That was the moment both of them realized how close their were to each other. Azula moved her face forward while Katara moved back, making them both blush.

"I should get back to my room. You have my email if you have any questions about the final." Katara quickly said, grabbing her things and racing out of the room. Did Azula just try to kiss her? No. No, she had to have been imagining things. There's no way Azula did that, "She is pretty beautiful." Katara whispered.

"No." She shook her head as though that would get the thought out of her head, "No, Azula doesn't like you. Stop fooling yourself. You're acting like an idiot!" She snapped. Katara forced herself to continue doing her work and stop thinking about Azula. She only had a week left with the woman anyway before the last day of college and only three weeks until Azula graduated.

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

Katara would never admit it but she was sad when she posted those final exam scores. Not because the scores were bad, though there was one student who made her want to cry and scream when she read through their final, but because she would miss her class. Other professor's told her that it stopped being all that meaningful when she had been there for a few years, but, still, Katara couldn't help but find herself saddened when she send out everyone's final scores.

'Maybe there's another person you're sad you'll never see again.' Her brain supplied.

"Shut up." Katara mumbled. Though it was true, she was saddened that she'd never see Azula again, "That's just how things go sometimes. I need to accept that." She tried to speak in her most commanding voice, forcing herself to accept the fact that Azula had probably long forgotten about her as well.

Meanwhile, across town, Katara couldn't have been further from the truth when Azula opened her email to read her final exam score.

"WHAT!?!"

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

It was a calm day, a peaceful and quiet day. Katara was sitting on her couch, reading through a book when someone began pounding on her door. Confused, and a bit scared if she was honest, Katara slowly approached the door only to see Azula through the peep hole.

“Azula?” Katara asked, “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“No! Because you took points off on the exam when I got the question right!” Azula walked into Katara’s apartment, allowing Katara to shut the door behind her.

“Excuse me?” Katara asked.

“Right here.” Katara looked at where Azula was pointing to see that she had the final exam up on her phone and was pointing to a specific equation, “I got the question right but you marked it as incorrect!”

"You are wrong!" Katara yelled.

"How do you study this stuff and not know that I'm right!?!" Azula yelled back, "Right here. You asked 'when did the first photosynthetic organism come into being?' and I said 'when the Earth's atmosphere and the shallow ocean first experienced a rise in the concentration of oxygen.'"

"And that's wrong!" Katara told her, "You needed to give me the exact name of what it's called. There are a lot of things you could have called it The Great Oxidation Event or Great Oxygenation Event or Oxygen Catastrophe, but you wrote none of that!"

“It’s the same thing!”

“Do you not understand how college works?! You had to write what the term was called! You didn’t and you lost points!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Deal with it! Accept your lost points and the fact that you rushed through the exam and didn’t read every instruction!”

“You’re the one who put instructions there meant to trip people up!”

“Or did you just not read because you thought my exam would be so easy?!”

By now both Katara and Azula’s faces were inches apart. Katara’s eyes momentarily fell down to Azula’s lips. Azula did the same then forced her eyes back to Katara. Only a second of silence existed between the two before they began kissing.

“I thought you didn’t want this?” Azula asked.

“And I thought you knew to read through instructions.” Katara grinned.

Katara brought Azula to the couch, causing her to fall back on the it. The two locked themselves into a makeout session that showed no sign of stopping. If anything it was getting stronger especially when the two began removing their clothing. Katara removing her shirt gave the okay for Azula to do the same.

“Can I?” Katara moved her hands to the back of Azula’s bra.

“Go ahead.” Thanks to years of experience, Katara undid the clasp with ease and tossed Azula’s bra to the side. One of her hands went behind Azula’s head for support and the other went to Azula’s chest.

“W-Wait.” Azula bit her lip to keep from groaning.

“What?” Katara sat back up, allowing Azula to use her free hands and remove her pants.

“Woah.” Katara whispered. She was beautiful.

A blush covered Azula’s face when she realized Katara wasn’t removing any other items of clothing, “Are-Are you okay with…us going there?” Azula asked, now suddenly feeling very self conscious and grabbing her shirt to put in front of her body.

Gently, Katara pushed her shirt away and kissed Azula, “Yes.”

Once again, the two girls were locked into kissing one another. Azula, having found Katara’s bra strap, also removed that and flung her bra to the floor. Katara’s pants weren’t far behind, leaving both woman completely naked.

“Ugh!” Katara moaned slightly when Azula pushed her body down so that she was under Katara’s chest, “God!” She bit her lip to keep from groaning too much, “Hey.” Azula pushed herself back up to be eye to eye with Katara.

“What?”

“I can’t let you do all the work.” The woman grinned, kissing Azula once more.

“Tell me if I should stop.” Katara whispered, moving her hands below Azula’s waist.

To anyone outside the apartment, it was probably very easy to guess what they were doing based on the sounds from inside, especially Azula’s groans, but neither woman could bring themselves to care or even think about the neighbor’s opinions.

“I’m guessing this is good.” Katara smirked, using her free hand to push herself up a bit and away from Azula’s lips.

Azula didn’t even respond, just pulled Katara back down to her as if the woman sitting up meant she was about to leave forever. Katara was sure though that she heard Azula moan ‘don’t stop’. After a minute, Azula forced herself to stop kissing Katara, only clinging to her as the woman kissed her neck.

"Can we...god...move this to the bedroom?" She asked, trying as hard as she could to force down her groans.

"Of course." Katara smiled.

Sometime later, both woman found themselves naked and breathing heavily in Katara's bed.

"If I had known this would happen, I would have come over months ago." Katara turned on her side to face Azula.

“You liked me that long ago?” She asked.

“Of course. I found you incredibly beautiful when I first came to your class but I suspected we could do anything because of university policy.” Azula said.

“You suspected correct.” Katara confirmed, “I could have been fired for dating a student.”

Azula winced, “Wow. Really great we didn’t get together then.” She said, “But I am really happy this happened. Are you okay…I mean was this good…I-I mean-“

Katara cut Azula off by kissing her, “I think you’re smart enough to figure out if I want to date you.” She grinned.

Azula smiled right back at Katara, “I’m sure I’ll get this question right.”

[moonstruckme]

Okay sorry I don’t want to burden anyone I know irl so rant below ! Cw for anxiety maybe? Please feel no need to read, everything is fine in my part of the world :)

I’m graduating on Saturday and that’s already more scary than exciting unfortunately, but a couple of days ago I got turned down for the only position I wanted in the city I live in now, so I’ll officially be moving away at the end of the summer. The thing is, I have no idea where !! I’ve always wanted to move out of my home state so it was never the plan to stay here, but there was a weird sense of comfort in the idea that I could potentially just stay where I am right now, continue to hang out with my friends who are doing grad school, kinda sorta pretend to just still be in college for another year or so. Which maybe wasn’t the best idea, but the familiarity was like a security blanket. Now, I cannot stop thinking about how I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I really hoped I’d have a job lined up by now, but as it stands it seems like I’m going to be working 3 jobs until my lease ends in August and after that I have no clue where I’m going. Jobs in my industry are worryingly scant and while I’m trying to make my peace with working in like a coffee shop or a bookstore or something (which I think I would be perfectly content with, at least for a while) the amount of decisions that leaves me with is stressing me out so bad. I have to figure out where I want to live, get a job there, go and find an apartment with some roommates, make all new friends, etc, etc. I’m terrified.

I have literally one friend who isn’t going on to some kind of higher education and she’s already gotten her dream job after applying to two (2) places, and I’m genuinely happy for her but it makes me feel like such a failure that I’ve applied to dozens and not even gotten an interview. I want so badly to just do something I care about but I feel like soon I’m going to have to settle for whatever pays rent. I keep telling myself that that’s fine, because plenty of people live that way and I’m sure that so long as I keep writing and have some good people in my life I’ll be happy, but it’s so so scary to know that in a couple of months I’ll be leaving all my friends and family behind but have no idea where I’ll be going.

I’m really not trying to whine, I know that I’ve been extremely lucky to go to college and enjoy barely paying for anything the last few years (I have a scholarship that pays for most of my rent and my parents help me with grocery money). There are genuinely awful things happening all over the world right now, and I live in a country that affords me a good amount of safety and have parents who I know would step in to help me if I were literally starving. I’m just sort of coming to terms with this being the first time in my life that I’m completely on my own. I’m confident that I can find something to keep myself alive, but I’ve been very lucky to have great friends and a very contented life so far, and I’m both grateful for that and terrified it’s going to end soon.

I can sort of feel myself on the edge of a wee breakdown and that really cannot happen right now because my family and my long-distance bestie get here tomorrow for graduation so I’m going to have to be very smiley and confident for at least the next few days ! And anyone I shared this with would be taking on the burden of feeling some kind of guilt, which of course I don’t want to put on anyone. So yeah. Sorry to do this here, but I really felt like I had to externalize this somehow and you guys are my unfortunate victims!

[briefhottubcoffee]

Hello

in the great moments twiyor do you also think of a kiss ?

Hello! Thank you for the ask!

Yes! I totally think there is the potential for a twiyor kiss in the near to far future! Lol. It has been hinted at several times and there is the rule of three which the awesome @whateversawesome touched on in their post here: https://www.tumblr.com/whateversawesome/733123193745932288/possible-theory-about-twiyor-kiss

Now, I think we will most likely have some other type of physical affection from them much sooner in a hug or hand hold with intense eye contact, than a kiss in the next, oh 20 chapters or so. I just feel like we need a little more momentum to build up to a kiss, because it’s obviously a huge moment, and I’d think there should be a little more acknowledgment of feelings from, at least, Yor before they start smooching. I’d personally also like a moment similar to the park bench, where Twilight is a little vulnerable with her again and a crack in his walls forms before a kiss, but at this point in the manga he is very reluctant to be vulnerable. (After the mole arc.)

Of course, Endo could throw us for a loop and have them kissing very soon. I would be immensely happy about that lol, you’ll hear no complaints from me! But my theory is we will get something else to build up to the kiss. I do hope and believe (like 70% sure) we will get a kiss before the very last chapter of the series, but I suppose you never know.

Thank you again for the ask! I love chatting about soy x family and twiyor! I love it so much!

[bagalois]

100 days of productivity - 6/100

jan 22, 2025.

✔ went to class ✔ washed my dishes ✔ meal prepped! ✔ put away groceries ✔ troubleshooted an issue with my fridge to my landlord

(more under the cut - warning for very long and kind of negative)

today's the first day of classes (where i'm a student)! i'm taking combinatorics, group theory, and algebraic topology.

the profs for algtop and group theory were... okay, i guess. i dont doubt they are very knowledgeable about their field, and the lecture content was all fine and good, but the presentation i fear was not so good. my algtop professor waffled on about inconsequential things that only made sense to him for probably half of the entire lecture (random jokes and pedantic clarifications that depend entirely on your specialty that, frankly, while i understand their place, the slight difference in convention between algebraists and geometers doesn't mean very much to me as somebody who is not that familiar with either field). and the group theory prof, he spoke too quietly and the entire class could barely read his handwriting.

also, i fear that i've come down with a cold or a fever, so even though i got a lot done, i felt pretty bad all day. i felt okay this morning but i still wore a mask. another grad student asked me why i was wearing one, and i told them i was worried i got exposed to some sickness, since i was feeling under the weather.

i was started to overheat and get overstimulated just from my combo prof's voice .-. and she was the only good lecturer i had today! straightforward, concise, and had briefly humorous moments that didn't detract from the rest of the lecture.

overall i've been feeling less than great, but getting as much as i have done today makes me feel better. posting, cleaning, cooking - all these things help ground me in some semblance of reality.

(begin cw: us politics)

it's probably because i'm sick, but i can't deny that trump's inauguration -- specifically how a lot of people are panicking about it -- is weighing on me. i really hate how little i know about anything. palestine-israel was what got me to seriously think about politics for the first time. of course i remember what i learned in high school history class, and as an ethnically han chinese person i paid attention to BLM and stop asian hate, but i didn't really think critically. my history classes didn't seem relevant when i was taking them, but of course they're relevant; the history is the context for what i'm living now.

eventually i was going to grow up and fend for myself and the people i care about in this country. i never realized that somehow. i have been so naive and ignorant.

it seems that everybody else has long understood what has been going on, with everything. but now my friends are panicking and i don't know what i'm supposed to worry about or not. when news articles and social media become untrustworthy, you need to rely on yourself - your own knowledge and critical thinking. unfortunately, i forgot to do that growing up...

(acknowledgement and disclaimer) i'm in a better position than most. the fact that i'm just worried about being informed is nothing compared to the others currently losing/have lost their homes, jobs, reproductive care access, their dignity (transgender inmates being forced to detransition), etc. so i don't mean to say all this to mean i'm genuinely panicking about living in trump's america. i just have a fever and i'm more stressed than i should be about the weight of my privilege and resulting responsibility if i want to call myself an ally/leftist/whatever.

(/end cw)

in any case.... i like to finish these things on a positive note so i'll keep writing.

i have to teach tomorrow morning at 8:30am :/ last time i barely spent any time reviewing/teaching summation notation to the class. i just showed them the anatomy of the notation and did one example, but for some it's their first time seeing that, so i should be spending more time on it.

after teaching, well, i wanted to sit in on riemannian geometry but if i still feel shitty tomorrow then i might just go home... i have textbook chapters to read and review so that'll keep me occupied while im not at school.

i'm taking a couple mg of melatonin as i'm writing this sentence. i need to rest. bye~

[ocrpsearch]

hiya ! 27f on my hands & knees begging for a 25+ partner to write with :( perfectly happy to double up and build a whole cast out of whatever we do together :]

౨ৎ 𓂃 the main plot i'm looking for is a study in codependency. the setting is up for discussion. all i really want are two characters who (maybe reluctantly) find themselves in each other's lives and cannot live without each other, to the point where they are now a threat to society lol give me characters who sometimes can't look each other in the eye, but go on rampages when the other is hurt ! characters who annoy the heck out of each other but look for each other in every room they walk into ! give me "i love you" / "it'll pass" !!

౨ৎ 𓂃 setting/dynamic ideas, if you need some (favorites are blue): uni/grad school students, omegaverse, spn-verse, age gap protector/protected, rival athletes, boss/assistant, etc.

౨ৎ 𓂃 love, love, love dark themes ! if you're interested in going down the dead dove route, i have ideas for inspo; if you're not interested in dead dove, i still have inspo to share <3 all characters will be 21+ (preferably even older), so let's get scandalous, let's make the puritans angry

౨ৎ 𓂃 given the chance, i will pound out novel length replies, but i am absolutely okay with shorter things. writing is a hobby, not a job, and sometimes you just don't have it in you to do 500 words per reply. so i won't hold you to any great standards and i ask that you treat me the same ! as long as i feel like you're putting in effort, then i will be happy <3

౨ৎ 𓂃 i want to talk ooc !! i want to be friends, share headcanons, make pinterest boards and playlists, etc. rp is so much more fun when you feel like there's another person doing it with you. more than anything, i ask that you at least say something to me throughout the week. if you can't do a reply every day, that's totally fine, but just message me or something so i know i'm not being ghosted pls :(

discord or tumblr is fine by me ! i'm happy to iron out any details and yap about these ideas, so please please please like this if you're interested and i will reach out asap :]

interact and anon will reach out!

[bigtreefest]

Hi Essie!

I was just reading your post on your application and this is just a thought -- you don't have to respond at all if you don't like this idea!! this idea is purely my CPH4 brain talking I swear I have nothing to do with this lol

So, a young man (okay maybe not so young he was born four years ahead of you according to his page in the uni website ) with some very serious frowning becomes your thesis supervisor at the end of the term. He taught one lesson that you attended and you didn't know him very well besides his name. He rarely speaks, always listening to your presentation/answer, and very occasionally asking "do you have any questions for me?"

Nevertheless, you have impressive GPA and at the end of that term, you decided to apply for a PhD. You already have two letters of recommendation, one from a professor that you have known for two years during your Master's, one from a professor that supervised your Bachelor thesis and teaching a few courses that you attended.

But this damn Graduate School that you want to get in requires THREE. THREE FUCKING RECOMMENDATION LETTERS. And it specifically requires the letter from your dissertation supervisors.

You ask, not with much hope, your current supervisor, the lecturer with a very serious frowning look on his face, whether he could provide you a letter of recommendation.

To which he responded, texting back in a matter of seconds.

-Ofc. When do you need it? Send your transcripts btw.

NOW, the question is: Is he

or

or

----I just thought it'd be hilarious if he's very serious during class and meetings while he's basically any 20-somethings when texting you and discussing things that he shouldn't be sharing with you (like the content of your recommendation letter, or the fact that three recommendation letters is absolutely worthless even though he's providing one for you, or that because another professor is cranky and possibly stealing work from their students, you def shouldn't be choosing him as your doctor supervisor)

Oh I absolutely adore this ask! Thank you so much for sending this in, I unfortunately know the hierarchy of academia too well which is why I honestly think I would be rolling my eyes at these standards, too. I took the prompt and ran with it. 😂

I wanna talk about the other two options before I get to my choice. All below the cut bc it’s long.

Let’s discuss Ari:

Throughout Ari’s undergrad degree, he played football and was greatly interested in world policies, so everyone thought once his sports career and degree was over, he’d be ready to get out there. Nope. He really wasn’t sure where to start, so instead, he decided to keep going with schooling.

His grades were just good enough for him to get into the program you were applying to now. Varsity athletics looked great on the application and his charm was the extra boost. Now that he’s in it though, it’s been almost seven years instead of the usual four to five. Part of it is him going in without much of a plan, wanting to try every avenue, while the other is him just not caring enough to push further and just finish the degree. He’s getting paid just enough to get by and no one has threatened to kick him out, so he enjoys the coasting and the free time it gives for him to look into his actual passions.

Part of the PhD program is all of the grad students sitting in a room grading exams of undergrads every few weeks, and during this, Ari really shows his personality. They have to sit there for hours on end, and it can get boring, so Ari will tell stories to the kid next to him to pass the time, except the room is so quiet that everyone hears. These will range from the various dates with odd girls, to that time he saw a video of someone cooking salmon in the dishwasher, so he tried it out. “It was pretty decent. I swear it’s Kosher! I would do it again if it didn’t take so long.”

Any time he gets trusted to teach, which is rare since his advisor doesn’t really want it in order to guarantee the kids are being taught correct content, questions are not answered very well. It’s either with a “hell if I know. Use google. That’s how they do it in the real world.” Or “wait for the professor to get back. This isn’t my expertise.” Both technically valid, but not what a younger student wants to hear from someone in a position of authority.

Star Student Steve:

Steve was born for upper-level studies. He’s been ready to graduate essentially since getting into the program, knowing exactly what he wanted to research right off the bat. He knows all the content well and is well-liked by students and professors alike. The undergrads have a habit of ogling him and crowding his office hours, so you never even bothered to go. Pending his early graduation, he’s already been offered a job at the university with a full federal research grant, which he could use to travel or gain equipment for his projects. He’s probably considering this, unless one of the prime companies/agencies gives him a better offer. He can’t wait for the opportunity to make new rules and discoveries in the field, just needs to find the best route to get him there. (Talk about a CPH4 brain, haha)

With all of this going on, though, he doesn’t have time for much else. Sure, he’s very kind, but he’s always on the move. Students are not his first priority right now if he wants everything in place to be successful and make history. When it comes to picking an advisor, everyone wants Steve, but after hearing all that, and the standard he might hold you to without giving you the time of day to reach that level, do you really want him?

My wonderful choice Curtis:

(Even before I saw my options, this description was screaming ‘Curtis’ to me.)

He’s definitely the kind of silent student who puts his head down and does his work because it’s difficult stuff. Some may say it’s even more difficult than Steve’s if they knew what Curtis actually did, but he’s so silent and keeps it to himself unless he’s asked. It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, it’s more because when he’s interacting with students, he understands his job is to help them first and foremost. Although Curtis may have been busy, he never rushed and made sure his full attention was on the task or person at hand.

All the Professors know Curtis and really like him for his work ethic and ability to maintain balance and remain a grounded person, except he’s just not a poster boy like Steve. For this reason, his advisor trusts him enough to teach certain classes since Curtis parses out his time well and not only knows the content, but cares about it deeply. At the end of his lectures, though, when he asks for questions, it’s radio silence. Perhaps it’s because he taught the material so well, but even Steve and Ari get the odd question about their research or last Sunday’s football game. Curtis gets disinterested stares until he dismisses everyone. Office hours are pretty quiet, too, until right around exam time when a few students come to him for help since everywhere else was so full. After seeing how helpful he is, yourself included, they keep going back to him, keeping it to themselves, though, keeping him their hidden secret gem.

The lack of recognition Curtis gets is a shame, though, because he’s so nice. Actually, not just nice, but genuinely kind. When you were assigned with him as your advisor, you weren’t really sure what to do. Not many talked about him and the stoic demeanor was a little intimidating, until you actually spoke with each other. He was so sweet and engaged, asking you questions and providing guidance not only on what he thought might work the best, but how to go about it and how to properly convey ideas to the committee panel members at the end. He gave you his phone number, too, in case you needed any help at all, saying he’d pick up anytime.

When you asked him for your letter of recommendation, he was elated. “No one has ever come to me for that before, but ofc. When do you need it? Send your transcripts btw. And your resume.”

Curtis was right, though, he had never had to be the voice of authority vouching on someone’s behalf since up until this point, he was in your exact shoes. “Don’t be nervous to ask questions, but I also don’t want you to think that I’ve got all the answers and you’re not good enough. The only difference between you and me academically is like four classes content-wise. I just have more hands-on experience.” He said it with a soft, reassuring smile that really put you at ease.

He’s aware of the system, and of course he hates it, because he knows what it’s like to be at the bottom. Throughout his time putting together your recommendation, he’s messaging you with updates. “I’m going to add this because they really like to see it specifically highlighted,” or “I’m not even sure what they’re asking here, but it’s fucking stupid if you ask me. Conventions like this are ridiculous. I hate that these decisions are made by people who aren’t even on the ground. If they actually took part in this program, they’d see you’re more than qualified to get into it. But no, for some reason, all important decisions are made by old people so far removed from actual work.”

That second one was in person, though. It wouldn’t look good to have him saying those things in writing. He rolls his eyes before switching back to his reassuring, charming self.

“Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s good.”

And then as he sits down to write, he constantly sends you lines from it. “Does this sound too braggy? Am I hyping up your work too much? I feel like it wouldn’t be fair if I was casual about it, but we’re rocking with a lot of enthusiasm right now and idk where the line is where it’ll seem insincere.😅”

You tend to hang around Curtis a lot while you’re working on finishing up. On small work breaks, he tells you about the weird little things the other PhD students have sent to his email. “I’m what, four years older than you? And so are these other guys, but I swear they act like they’re twelve.” It helps you to laugh at his small little complaints in a time of building stress. He lets you into his life and you see he’s a normal person, just a few years older than you. He’s the whole reason you know about Ari and the dishwasher salmon, and he helps to break down the barriers you feel against everyone in his program that seems to know so much. Half of your conversation is weird everyday things about his life you’re sure no one else has given him the space to talk about. “You texted me while I was watching the hockey game, they were losing anyway so I was grateful to do something else.” He was in the city…at the actual hockey game…drinking a beer and scrolling emails…. Or “my apartment has a no pet policy, but my roommate got a cat, so I hope you don’t mind the little guy joining us today. Just while the landlord does some maintenance so we don’t get kicked out.” He’s half shuffling through the papers on his desk, half giving you an amused smile thinking of the whole situation. Of course, it can’t all be personal, though, so he continues to sprinkle advice in here and there.

“Also, if you wanna keep your sanity around here, keep away from Levinson’s advisor. Not only is he just straight-up a ridiculous man, but he won’t push you if he likes you. And if he hates you, you’ll know it a mile away. That’s why I never chose him for my committee meeting.”

As you prepare to defend your thesis, Curtis is sitting with you in the hallway. He’s been prepping you for this presentation for weeks, but for peace of mind, he asks you potential questions as you wait to be called in. He holds a paper copy of your thesis, saying once again “you’ve got this. Just like the rehearsals. No one knows this stuff better than you. Show them that.” As you stand in front of the small crowd, he gives you a thumbs-up and watches with approving nods as your blow it out of the water.

He gives you a big hug when you pass and an even bigger hug when you stop by the small TA office and visit his desk to tell him about your official spot in the PhD program. “I can’t wait to work together more with you. You’re going to do great things, I know it, and I’m proud to be a part of it.”