#where you list what you’ve been doing in uni like organisation

[caramello-styles]

the administration stuff after you graduate is sure confusing AND draining smh.

[ukiyoexo]

COFFEE ADDICT. — NMY

PAIRINGS — nct, nakamoto yuta x reader

GENRES — ghoul!yuta, tokyoghoul!au, student!reader, uni!au, fluff, angst

SYNOPSIS — yuta, the boy who sits two rows in front of you in biology class. yuta, the boy who has a secret he could never let you find out about. yuta, the boy with an undying craving for flesh and addiction to coffee. yuta, the boy who ends up saving you?

WARNINGS — violence, blood, idkkk

WORD COUNT — 1.5k+

TAG LIST — @uwu-yifan @peachjaem00 @heartyyjeno @guccichan @morkleeskneecaps

NOTE — ayyyy this is kinda messy but i wanna write more tokyo ghoul stuff because this was fun :)))

DEVILTALES — MASTERLIST

tokyo. the city that never sleeps. the city of big dreams and big problems — big ghoul problems.

you had heard plenty about the ghoul situation in tokyo before you had even applied to uni in the city. it was hard not to. not only was it printed in black bold lettering on the front of every newspaper after every attack, but you also found them incredibly fascinating. you were almost drawn to them, the mystery that surrounded them, the unknown.

but maybe that curiosity was always going to be your downfall.

since you had first moved to tokyo, there had been more attacks than you could count. the days between them descreasing each time. it was scary, of course, the stay at home orders and the many warnings to not go out at night increasing.

and you mostly followed them, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t partly intrigued.

♡ ♡ ♡

“afternoon class,” your professor welcomed you all, scribbling a topic on the slate board at the front of the class in large, scrawled white chalk. you had always loved biology, that’s why you chose it as your major. not only was interesting and you were constantly learning new things, but it just encouraged your aspirations to one day study the ghouls that ran the city. “today we’ll be learning about mutation.” he continued as you copied down the title.

you were good student, you paid intention in class and you got the work, often coming out with top grades. but recently you had been distracted by something, or more specifically someone.

the transfer from osaka that sat in front of the class and wore his cherry red hair in a ponytail was quite hard to miss. same went for his addiction to coffee, a cup from the same coffee shop downtown held in his hand every time he walked into lectures.

at first, you hadn’t payed much mind to him. you were working towards your dream and weren’t going to let some boy with bright hair distract you. but it was hard not to be intrigued — there was your undying curiosity again. sure, he was good looking, and looked like he had been carved by the gods or whatever, but that wasn’t what pulled you in.

he was different. the way he acted, the way he held himself, the aura that surrounded him. there was something different about him and you couldn’t quite place it, apart from the fact that he did quite literally only seem to live on the caffeine filled beverage.

class wraps up quickly, your attention only drawn to the boy a couple times. although you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed more invested in his note taking than normal.

at the end of this lecture, you’d normally head straight home to avoid the streets in the dark, but your biology had set an essay to be done with a rather tight turn around.

you could have, of course, organised your time to get it done another time. but it was one night, you would be fine, right? besides, a part of you was so fascinated by the beings that you almost wanted to see the things that stalked the city.

the library is quiet, most people not wanting to have to risk the journey home. yet it’s helpful, actually. you manage to plan and write most of your essay without much difficulty. but maybe that was because it was also on a topic you loved: ghouls.

you’re mid way through a sentence when you get a notification from your phone. a random text from your friend, some stupid meme, your attention drawn instead to the time that’s glaring back at you.

it was late, later than you had intended. and too late to really be out.

you pack up quickly after that, heading out of the library and making your way down the safest path home. you had your keys slid between your fingers, although you didn’t know how much use they would come to if an incident did occur.

the night is cold and black. an icy, darkness that seems to coat the city and leaves a shiver running down your line, chills prickling your skin. you continued down the street, making a sharp left turn. it’s a blind corner, one that you shouldn’t have taken, one that should have made you choose another route. but you had taken it anyway, maybe it your curiosity again that drew you to it.

you notice the blood first, a steady stream of thick red liquid trickling down the street, dripping it’s way down the drain. then the sound of ripping. meat tearing. flesh.

the gulp from your throat is audible, your eyes not even fully up as your feet begin to shuffle back, you don’t feel as intrigued or nearly as brave as before.

you try to escape, but it’s too late.

you see her eyes first. a fluorescent red surrounded by a black that matched the night sky. her hair a violet, bright shade that seemed to contrast the dark look on her face. a hungry look. “p- please- i won’t tell anyone i saw you- just-”

“just let you go? is that what you going to ask me, dear?” she inches closer and you wish you could run but your frozen, not only trapped by the crippling fear but by the ‘claws’ that extended from her body. “do you really want your last words to be pitiful begs?” her hand reaches to cup your neck, touch almost delicate. “i- i-”

“let her go rize.” your stammered words are interrupted by the voice of a man, his tone calm and steady. the woman shifts her attention away from you at his command but her hand remains gripping at your throat, tightening ever so slightly. “yuta?” she almost smiles.

the name is familiar yet you cant quite yet place why.

“i thought you didn’t hunt these pests anymore?” her face contorts into a pout, patronising the man who you still hadn’t caught a glimpse of. “i don’t.” he states and you can hear his teeth gritting. 

“and i thought your binge eater days were behind you?” he fires back, a bit more aggressively than before. 

rize’s head cocks at his words, body turning, hand dragging you with her. 

the way she smiles is so sickly and sweet, tongue poking out to wipe the reamining blood from her last victim from her lip. “you know her, don’t you?”

your gaze flickers up at her question, curious eyes scanning up the body of the man who had at least delayed your murder. his red hair catches your attention first, a vibrant shade that you recognise, although it’s no longer in a ponytail, instead framing his chiselled face. his jaw is clenched but his eyes are wide. “oh, did you not want her to know what you are?” she opens her hand, letting you fall to the ground. her claw instead coming to pin you to the ground. 

you had read about hers before,a rinkaku kagune, it’s strong and pushes hard against your chest until you’re gasping for air.

“you should have stopped when i told you to,” the boy who you had only known from biology spits back, and for some reason you can’t help but think how stupid you were for not piecing the clues together, the fact that you had only seen him consume coffee should have been enough for you to realise.

he was a ghoul.

and he was powerful. 

his kigune seems to glow in light of the moon, its a bikaku, one of the only one’s that can properly disarm a rinkaku. 

he strikes, hard, quick movements that leave the pressure on your chest weakening. rize attempts to strike back but he’s cut through half her kigune claws before she can even process fully what’s going on. you expect him to finish her off completely but he stops just there, “go before i kill you.” he grits and you scowl on her face twist. “you’ll see me again, yuta.” she mutters harshly, walking over to where her prior victim lay, picking up the body before leaving.

yuta seems to keep his cool as he makes his way over to you, extending a hand which you take with your own shaky one. his eyes meet your eyes and his whole demeanour seems to shift, “don’t tell anyone,” he states quietly, a stark contrast from his prior tone, “please.” 

you don’t get an opportunity to respond before he’s turned around again, he moves quickly, leaving you standing frozen with little time to thaw from your fearful state.

you don’t sleep much that night, mulling over what yuta had asked of you. you barely knew him, if at all, and how could you trust that he wasn’t just another senseless ghoul who killed the innocent people you saw in the newspaper. you want to keep his secret but it’s a big ask, and you don’t know if you can.

morning comes and it’s another biology class. you wonder if he’ll be there, how he’ll act. but you’ve already made up your mind nonetheless. 

you enter the classroom lightly later than normal, having taken a detour to the campus. yuta’s sat in his same spot at the front, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips when you see your saviour. your confident, making your way towards him. 

your hand slides a black coffee across his desk and he looks up with wide eyes, his gaze softening slightly when it meets your face but still just as confused. 

“your secret is safe with me.”

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 10

thank you all for your patience. these updates will probably because fortnightly rather than weekly since im swamped with uni work now, but i still love my boys dearly and i love YOU all for reading!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley (please ask to be added or removed!

CW: pet whumpee, hospitals, dehumanisation, burning

-

It would have been a great mercy for Rowe to drift slowly awake, pulled towards lucidity by his aching legs. Instead, in an instant he was wide awake and screaming as unfamiliar hands touched and gripped and pulled. Rowe weakly pushed them away before he realised what was going on. How could I- I was trained to never resist. How can this happen? What is wrong with me?

‘’See how far non-compliance gets you,’’ came a voice. Rowe squinted against the light to see two people in elbow-length gloves, with masks and cold eyes looking back at him. One of them- the taller of the two- reached to either side of him to click open what looked like handcuffs. ‘’In. If you don’t make a fuss I won’t clip your legs. You wouldn’t want that with the state they’re in, would you?’’

Rowe shook his head desperately. He could barely listen through the terrible pain, but he was programmed to understand commands, and had learned to understand threats. The tall one gave a little grunt and spread Rowe’s arms wide, locking them in place on either side of the thin mattress he was laying on. Rowe vaguely considered that Master Tomas had given him an especially nice mattress at home.

His bed at home. His room. The nice carpet soaked with his blood while he lay there, helpless, Kasia swinging the hammer down again and again, and Rowe able to feel his hatred with every impact. Master had found him, Rowe remembered. He had taken him here. Was he being put down?

He felt something trickling down his temples. Tears. When did I start crying?

He shook his head, trying to push all these questions out of his head. Pets don’t cry. I don’t cry- I shouldn’t cry. I’m just a thing that feels pain and serves. I can lie here and take this. Master left me here; this is what he wants.

‘’Right…’’ The tall one said. Rowe blinked quickly and saw her inspecting his wounds. ‘‘When did you get these?’’

‘’Th-this afternoon, I-‘’

Rowe’s voice died away when he saw the look she was giving the short doctor, who bent to grab something from the compartment strapped to the end of the bedframe.

‘’Oh dear. I don’t remember you having permission to speak. Muzzle, if you please, Dr Clerval.’’

The shorter doctor- Clerval- handed it to her and Rowe went limp reflexively. This muzzle looked sharp, and cruel, and as the taller doctor fastened it to Rowe’s face he felt it cut into the skin around his ears and the corners of his mouth. The bit was cold, keeping his tongue pinned down.  

‘’Now,’’ she said, ‘’you’re going to be a good Pet, aren’t you? We’re doing you a kindness, after all.’’

Rowe nodded, lowering his eyes. The tall doctor smiled, and Rowe saw her push some sort of sharp instrument into him, and then he started screaming.

-

The woman who had summoned Tomas introduced herself as Gwen. Her Mary Janes echoed through the corridor as they spoke.

‘’Can I see him?’’

‘’Your Pet? I’m sorry, sir, he won’t be out for a while.’’

‘’Then… what did you want me for?’’

‘’We actually had a few issues with your paperwork and just need a few signatures off you, if you don’t mind. Right in here, please.’’

They entered a warm office and Gwen gestured for Tomas to sit in a plush, deep buttoned chair.  

‘’Okay. I have here your Pet’s file, but it seems you’re not the official owner.’’

‘’Huh?’’

‘’When you received your Pet, did you sign any paperwork?’’

‘’No… I didn’t.’’

‘’Well, your P-‘’

‘’His name is Rowe. Sorry- for interrupting, but he has a name. If that’s easier.’’

Gwen gave him the gentle smile of a vet explaining to a child why their sweet pet had to be put down. ‘’Of course, Mr Grz- may I call you Tomas? Great. Currently Rowe is listed as unclaimed, under the legal ownership of a Pet rehoming organisation. Is this where you got him from?’’

‘’Yeah. I have a friend who works there.’’

‘’I see. Well your friend has forgotten to give you the appropriate paperwork. What this means is that Rowe is not officially your property yet- you can’t take people to court if they damage or steal him.’’

‘’Right. Shit. How do I get this paperwork?’’

‘’I have it here, since you need to be the legal owner to submit him for medical treatment. This will establish that you are Rowe’s acting owner, but you need to get your friend to sign too, okay?’’

Gwen handed Tomas a single sheet of paper and a pen. So simple, Tomas thought. One bit of A4 for the right to Rowe’s life.

‘’Thank you,’’ he said as he signed, printing his name below it in his delicate script. 

‘’Great,’’ beamed Gwen. ‘’And now we can discuss your payment.’’

‘’Payment? Isn’t this… isn’t this on the NHS?’’

‘’No,’’ she said patiently, ‘’just as animals aren’t covered, neither are Pets.’’

Tomas’s goodwill towards Gwen was dissipating quickly. He would pay, of course. But for Rowe- his Rowe- to be considered closer to an animal than a human made him stiffen. Gwen seemed to notice this and pressed on.

‘’Oh, but don’t worry, it’s not going to be expensive. Pet treatment is far simpler than treating a human.’’

Gwen didn’t elaborate, and Tomas didn’t enquire, if only to preserve his own sanity. The floor, he noticed, was the same shade of cream as Rowe’s room. He looked away quickly. He could still smell the blood- could still hear the way Rowe had screamed and moaned when he lifted him up. Tomas didn’t even know how conscious he had been then. Did he think Tomas was hurting him more on purpose? Would he think Tomas was angry? Probably. Tomas would have to be very, very patient when Rowe was discharged and started begging for forgiveness for wasting his Master’s time.

-

The muzzle only hurt when Rowe shifted, now. It had sunk into his flesh and stayed there, and Rowe could ignore the pain up until a movement made it flare. In a way, he was happy that he couldn’t speak- he always made things worse by speaking, and although he did his best to make Master Tomas happy, he sometimes wished he would be granted a muzzle and the safety of silence.

He had stopped screaming, mostly. The bit had sliced his tongue so badly he wondered if he would even be able to speak once it was taken off. As Dr Clerval and the other doctor, whose name was Easton, dug into his calves, he just moaned and spasmed involuntarily. His chest, still brightly lined with Kasia’s cuts, strained and lifted with every new jolt of pain.

The pain was awful- acute pain- different to the wide, messy whacks of the hammer. Rowe could feel every stab of the instrument, a million precise cuts, sinking into his skin and then leaving just as quickly. He hoped he wouldn’t throw up. He tried to focus on the fact that he wasn’t being put down, at least.

He had never been to hospital before. When his old master had whipped him, or poured boiling water on him, or beaten him unconscious, he had always had the night to recover and then it was back to work. If he couldn’t do that, he was given the morning off and forced to sleep outside for the next week as penance. He was always so grateful when old master allowed him that.

Anaesthetic wasn’t wasted on Pets, Rowe knew that. Master Tomas knew that too, undoubtedly. Don’t worry sir, no need to punish your Pet yourself. After all, you’ve already wasted enough time on it. We’ll make sure it suffers so it knows not to bother you again.

More stabbings in his legs. It felt like he was being stitched up. That made sense, at least. Rowe’s old master was kind, far kinder than Rowe deserved, and would always tell him why he was being hurt. He felt the same amount of comfort here. He was being hurt for a reason. Kasia’s beating had been made all the more unbearable because he hadn’t cited any insolence, any misstep. He had barely said anything at all.

On either side of him were dark green curtains, but beyond them he could hear screams, and wails. He wondered how many injured Pets were in here with him, just out of sight. He had never met another Pet before.

Another jolt of pain brought him back to the present. Dr Easton was looming over him with a- a- Rowe’s head went dizzy with fear. Dr Easton had a thick metal rod in one gloved hand, and the end was white-hot and smouldering. She held it near Rowe’s face and he pulled away as far as he could against his restraints, the whites of his eyes glinting in the sterile light. He could tell that underneath her mask was a wicked smile.

‘’We’ve got one or two pesky wounds that might get infected. But we’ll see to that. Do you know what cauterisation is?’’

Rowe nodded, and this seemed to be the right answer, because the rod was taken away from his face. Before he could relax, though, Easton pressed the burning end into Rowe’s calf.

His eyes rolled into his head as he bucked and thrashed, his screams mixed with desperate, anguished sobs. His thoughts were running wild with helpless pleas- not this not this not this, I’ll do anything to make the pain stop, please Master I’m so sorry, please I’ll do anything, just not this, not this.

It didn’t calm down when the rod lifted from his leg, after the longest few seconds of Rowe’s life. No sooner had he even registered the change was the pain was transferred to another wound, further up the same leg. He felt like a wild animal, screaming in a way he had never screamed before, guttural and horribly altered due to the muzzle. Rowe didn’t even recognise the sounds. The pain was worse, so much worse than the boiling water or the whip, he couldn’t even form coherent thoughts anymore, he couldn’t see, everything he knew in that moment was pure, awful pain.

Eventually, the cauterisation was done. Rowe felt exhausted, and more than anything, he felt scared. He missed Master Tomas so, so badly. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he dreamed of being back in Master’s living room. His legs worked, and he wasn’t damaged goods. He was pretty. He was a good Pet and Master ruffled his hair. Good boy.

Master never said that to him. He told him he was good, but no more. He had ruffled Rowe’s hair, and hugged him once when he was drunk, but he never ordered Rowe to kneel at his feet and let himself be pet. For all that he was terrified of his old master, Rowe cherished the days where he was good and allowed to lay his head on old master’s thigh and feel his rough hands card through his hair.

Rowe knew it was still early- he hadn’t been Master Tomas’s property for even a fortnight yet- but he couldn’t help wondering sometimes what he was doing wrong. He fucked up so much, but Master never got mad, and told him he was good, but never went further than that.

But right now, in the space between awake and asleep, Rowe indulged in his most gentle fantasy. He felt Master stroke his hair, a million miles away from the blood-stained mattress and his calves wrinkled with stitches like seaweed on the ocean floor.  

[gxccistyless]

Kiwi || Part Six.

So um HELLO. I’m aware it’s been a very long time, truth be told I had totally forgotten about this!! I wanted to however finish this series before starting on anything new and so after this there will be a part seven and then perhaps an epilogue. IN THE MEANTIME HOWEVER I AM TAKING REQUESTS FOR HARRY SHORTS — What I mean by this is, well give me a prompt or something you want written and I’ll try my best!

Hope you all enjoy part six of Kiwi!

If you’re new here, please subscribe/follow... If you’d like to catch up you can read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five . ENJOY!!

“Please give me another chance? I know we’ve been through a lot but i really do love you and want to at least try and make things work…” The two of you had sat in the room in undisturbed silence for a further five minutes before you nodded your head. When you realised he couldn’t hear you nodding, you finally spoke.”Yes” Harrys breath hitched in his throat and if you ask him, he’ll swear his heart skipped a few beats. “But i have a few conditions...” He nodded waiting for you to continue. “You have to stop drinking and get yourself straight. You need to start talking to someone about your problems... and i want us to go to therapy... together.” The thought of talking to someone else about everything going on in his life and explaining to them why he would drown himself in alcohol seemed rather daunting, but a small price to pay to get back the love of his life. He tries to argue with you but he knows that you hold all the cards and he holds none, so he agrees. “do you know the gender?” You shake your head “Would you like to know?” He shakes his head in response “I quite like the idea of a surprise, seems very on theme”  he lets out a small giggle, as do you. He moves closer to you and even though it feels a little awkward he reaches out for your hand and you give it to him, you both turn your attention back to the baby on the screen.

When Anne and Gemma return to the room that’s how they find the two of you, holding hands, looking at the child the two of you made together. Anne smirks a little, she’d been rooting for the two of you. Gemmas eyes go back and forth between your linked hands and both of your faces. “Thank Christ, I honestly thought I’d have to lock the two of you in the laundry room later, bloody as stubborn as each other” you roll your eyes, but you know she’s right. 

_______________________________________ On the drive back to the apartment Harry and Gemma had organised that they would take turns to babysit you over the coming weeks. Harry would of course move back in and stay at night, and Gemma would watch you whenever he needed to be out of the apartment.  Anne was adamant that she would come down every weekend to cook and help prepare a space for the baby... neither you or Harry could argue with her. 

You could no longer fit the bump behind the wheel of a car and quite frankly after all the ups and downs of the last few weeks everyone was a bit worried that you would go into labour prematurely, yourself included. Even though you had promised Harry another chance you still had boundaries and wanted to take things slowly, he respected your boundaries and reluctantly slept on the couch. He quickly realised after two nights on a more than uncomfortable couch that this arrangement wouldn’t work. Never mind the fact that he was sleeping on a terrible couch that there was hardly any space for in this shoebox sized apartment, where would this baby fit when it came, your bedroom barely fit your side tables and bed let alone a crib for the baby. 

“I think we ought to look at moving you to my place...” he broached the topic with you less than 48 hours after taking up residence on the couch. “Really? Why? I quite like it here” He shakes his head “I understand that, but where is this baby going to go? You know babies have stuff too... like a crib and a high chair, love you don’t even have room for a dining table in here let alone a high chair and your bedroom has absolutely zero room for a crib or a bassinet” 

Deep down you know he is right, this apartment is way too small to fit all three of you, heck it barely was enough space for you and now Harry is back in the picture and the bump is very rapidly approaching it’s due date. The thought of moving right now however really overwhelmed you, the thought of being seven months pregnant and then moving all the stuff that you had made you feel like you were drowning, so you told him that through sobs.

“I’ll pack this up, I’ll send you to Mums for a night or two.... you don’t have to lift a finger.. I promise you I’ll do all the hard work, but love if I have to sleep on this couch for a second longer than necessary I might go insane, my back is so sore you have no idea the pain that I’m —” he stops himself and looks up at you, your face had a less than impressed expression “you have barely slept on this couch for two nights, how about you try carrying a watermelon around on your pelvis for seven months, a watermelon WITH YOUR HEAD”  you let out a huff. He brings you to the couch and gives you two minutes to just sit alone undisturbed with a glass of cool water. When he returns you’ve had enough time to think about everything he’s said, you tell him that as long as he promises you don’t have to pack a single box, you agree to move. 

That night you demanded that he sleep in the bed next to you, he was given strict instructions to stay on his side of the bed and you thought for certain you’d have no trouble staying on yours, especially considering the large pregnancy pillow in the middle. Even though it went against all the boundaries you had set, god forbid you have to hear him complain about his back tomorrow. He didn’t think twice when the words came out of your mouth, making his way straight to the bed. The next morning you woke up to your pregnancy pillow on the floor your legs entangled with his, his hand on the bump. 

______________________________________

Two days later you are moved into his London house. It’s definitely bigger than your last place, a bedroom for you, a room for the baby and a room for Harry too and even then some to spare. Truth be told you didn’t use the room that was intended for you, telling Harry that the cooling system was much better in his room than yours. Both he and you know that this is a lie, but neither of you speak the truth. The two of you have started couples therapy, it’s really helped the two of you sort through issues and talk about old wounds. Harry even started solo sessions to help him cope with his drinking problem.   _______________________________________________ As the bump continued to increase in size and your due date got closer it became harder to leave the house. Not only because you were uncomfortable and large, but the tabloids  had caught onto the fact that you and Harry had moved back in together and so that meant that the paparazzi were camped out on your front door at all hours of the day. Harry tried to do as much work as he possibly could from home, but there were times where this was impossible and so true to her word Gemma came to keep you company, jumping any time you would move. 

________________________________________________

The days went on and on with no sign of baby. “Maybe they don’t want to come until we can decide on names” you’d both gone back and forth on names for a few weeks now.  “What do you think about James for the middle name?” He says whilst his head is in his morning paper. Truth be told you hadn’t been thinking of James for the middle name, you’ve had a boy middle name picked out for the longest time, but as for a first name... well you had nothing.

With a girl name however, well girl names came in an abundance, and it was a back and forth of name throwing, with a list longer than what your final thesis had been at uni. If this poor kid turned out to be a boy he would be lucky to even have a first name let alone a middle name.“It’s very British innit? and i was thinking it’s very gender neutral, so could work no matter what we have boy or girl” You roll your eyes at the thought, but just smile in agreement... He will forget about this in an hour and he’ll have mentioned another three names before the day is through. 

“I quite like the name Grayson” it’s been one of your top picks for the longest time, whilst other names have come and gone Grayson has stayed. But Harry, well he won’t have any of it, he is totally against the name. He says something about the name doesn’t scream success, and that he wants his son to have a strong name. “So what James is a strong name to you? Do you know how many James’ there are in the UK alone? It doesn’t exactly scream individual?!” The two of you had been playing this back and forth on names since the night you moved in to his house. It started over text whilst he was moving your boxes and then eventually just became something the two of you would discuss every day.

 “Ok... ok...  we don’t have to decided right now, but eventually we will. But Grayson is definitely off the table” You’re taken back by his authority and you’re a little mad that he’s dismissed your favourite name so easily without even thinking about it. “Well if Grayson is off the table, the James is too”  You stomp off toward the bathroom and run yourself a bath. Staying in there for what seems like an eternity. You think of how his face fell when you told him James was vetoed as a name. You’d like to think that he felt a little pang in his heart too when he realised your feelings were just as hurt. You intend to apologise to him, you intend to explain everything to him, you hope he’s still here when you get out of the bath.

When you reach the bedroom and slump onto the bed his back is facing you, you turn on your side trace your fingers over his torso tattoo. He tenses. You know he’s a little mad from earlier, he had really liked James for a middle name, and the way that you shot him down had hurt him, but in fairness he had hurt you too. “Harry.. Harry turn around... please?” He turns to face you, but doesn’t make eye contact with you.”It’s not that i don’t like your suggestion Harry, i do, but i’ve had a boy middle name picked since i first found out i was pregnant. And well, i’m sorry but James just doesn’t compare to it...i have a really strong name after a man who is so special to me, who i know this baby will admire and well.. James...  it just won’t do.. it does’t compare. And so if we have a boy I want his middle name to be Edward” 

The moment it rolls off your tongue his eyes light up, he finally makes eye contact with you. His breath hitches and his lips part, his eyes fill with tears. He brings you in close to him, hand back to the bump where it’s been at every moment possible.

[mypassionfortrash]

Biology lessons (part one)

After parents’ evening doesn’t go according to plan, Roger schedules in some one-to-one time with you – his son’s biology teacher. Roger wants to brush up on his biology knowledge and you quickly realise that he’s a very hands-on learner.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!Reader Warnings: Implied smut; STRICTLY 18+ Notes: Just a cheeky one-shot inspired by some dad!Roger thirsting. This’ll have two parts, maybe more if people respond well to it. If you’ve enjoyed this and want to be tagged, please let me know. And if you made it to the end of this chapter, please be a courteous reader and reblog it or leave feedback!

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @wineandwanderings​ @scorpiogemini​

Parents' evening. Arguably the worst part of your job. One after the other, parents would file in and out of your classroom. Some of them liked to think they knew how to do your job better than you. Others felt that their kids could do no wrong. Some parents couldn't even be bothered to show up.

That was the case with your last appointment of the night – Mr Taylor. So, exhausted and dying to get home, you packed up and left. 

The following morning, you arrived at work and sank down behind your desk with a cup of coffee and some last-minute marking. But something caught your eye. Propped up on your pen pot was a crisp white piece of paper. It had your name on it. And you recognised that scrawled, slanted handwriting; it belonged to Angela from the office. Straightening out the note, you read it: 'Rufus' dad ran late. He's furious. Call him asap.'

Puffing out your cheeks, you smacked the note back down on the desk. It was too early for this. You picked up the phone and jabbed out the phone number. It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Hello?" a groggy voice said. "What do you want? It's half-seven."

"I'm sorry, Mr Taylor. It's Rufus' biology teacher here. I think I might have missed you last night."

"Biology teacher? A bloody time waster is what you are! I was twenty minutes late with the music teacher. Couldn't you have held on?"

The thing was, you didn't even know that Rufus' dad had shown up to parents' evening anyway. He hadn't actually bothered to sign in at reception. But now wasn't the time to tell him he was in the wrong. "I'm really sorry about that again, Mr Taylor. Do you still want to speak to me."

"Oh, I suppose so," he sighed.

"Are you busy just now?"

"It's half-past seven."

"Right," you agreed, glancing down at your watch. You mentally kicked yourself for that. "When are you free?"

"When's lunch for you?"

You rolled your eyes. You had a million and one other things to do on your lunch break, and dealing with Mr Taylor, as delightful as he was, didn't factor very highly on that list. "Twelve-thirty until quarter past one. But I don't have a class until two."

His voice perked up. "Just in case I'm late?"

"You said it, not me."

"I'll be there at twelve-thirty. On the dot."

"Good."

"Good."

"I'll see you then, Mr Taylor."

"I look forward to it."

Slamming the phone down, you decided to wander down to the staff room for another cup of coffee. You figured you would need it after agreeing to prolong the parents' evening agony. When you walked in, you were greeted by the usual familiar faces. Half of them were so organised that it pained you to listen to them. The other half loved to gossip and arrived at work early to do precisely that. As you flicked on the kettle and spooned a heap of cheap instant coffee into your mug, something caught your attention.

"…And did you speak to Rufus' dad last night?"

"Oh! Don't get me started on Mr Taylor!"

"Those big, sad eyes. Gorgeous hair that I'd just love to…"

"I'm telling you if I were his wife, I'd never let him out of my sight!"

"Well that's the thing, I heard she left him!"

"Never?!"

"It's true. It was all over the papers. Big scandal."

"I wish I had known that last night…"

You knew exactly who was speaking. You tried your hardest to ignore it. To just pour your coffee and go. But on your way out, they caught you. Ms Ferguson from Art and Miss Hunter from English. Right as your hand grasped the door handle, their voices made you wince.

"You were supposed to speak to Rufus' dad last thing, weren't you?"

"Was that where you disappeared to?"

You turned around to look at them. "He was running late. So I left."

"You were missing out!"

"I'm sure I was," you said, grimacing as you left the room.

As your last class before lunch filed out of the lab, you noticed Angela linger at the doorway. But you couldn't resist being drawn to the man standing beside her; absentmindedly tousling his fingers through his messy blonde hair and looking bored to death and effortlessly cool in his button-up shirt and skintight jeans. There was no mistaking him. He was Rufus' dad. 

After introductions, you and Roger sat down in silence on opposite sides of your desk. You shuffled through your pile of report cards and notes from the night before, attempting to concentrate on anything but how snug that denim looked on him. "I'll try to make this quick for you, Mr Taylor. You must be a busy man," you began, skimming over Rufus' report card.

"Please, call me Roger," he said, rolling up his sleeves and shooting you a wink. "I've got all the time in the world… especially for you."

You glanced down at the report card again, hoping your face wasn't giving away your embarrassment. "Look, Mr Taylor, there's no easy way of saying this. Rufus isn't doing too well in my class."

Roger's eyes widened. "Oh boy."

You almost felt bad for Rufus. He was a pleasant enough kid. "He doesn't pay attention, and he's… unruly. Doesn't do his homework. Constantly chats away in class. I'm really concerned he might be falling behind. I get it, biology isn't for everyone, and I know he has other ideas, but I need to make sure all of my students are getting the most that they can out of each class."

"I mean it's not hard to see why he'd be distracted." Roger grinned, gesturing towards you. "He's a bit of a chip off the old block," 

Sitting up straight, you tried a different tactic. "Mr Taylor, I really want to see your son do well and I'd appreciate it if you took this as seriously as I do."

Roger nodded. "Right. Right… you're right."

"We've got lots of opportunities for extra tuition. We're actually running an Easter school this year during the holidays. That might help Rufus to catch up."

The corner of Roger's mouth twitched. "Are you going to be there?"

Slotting your fingers together in front of you, you leaned forward. "I'm going to be taking some of the classes, yes."

"Good," he said, leaning back in his chair. He looked like he was analysing every detail of your appearance. "Good. I'm sure I – Rufus, I mean – could make it."

"Is there anything you would like to bring to my attention, Mr Taylor?"

Roger's teeth sank into his lower lip as his eyes batted back and forth beneath his half-moon glasses. You couldn't help but notice just how blue they were. "You know," he began, scratching the back of his neck. "I studied biology at uni. Maybe I could help him?"

"That sounds like a fantastic idea."

"I'm a bit rusty, though. As you can imagine, that was a long time ago," he smirked. "I might need a bit of extra tuition myself." An awkward hush dangled in the air between you. Did you just mishear him? Before you could muster a dry comeback, Roger cleared his throat. "You know… just so I know what I'm talking about. Where are we up to?"

"Um…" you hesitated. If you cracked an egg on your face at that moment, it would have fried in seconds. You swallowed hard and looked Roger dead in the eye: "Reproduction."

Roger's face lit up with a devilish grin that forced his lips wide apart. "Right. Survival of the fittest? The strongest, most successful male gets the female?"

"Not quite, but I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about all of that," you muttered before you could think. 

Roger was quick to blurt back. "You know drummers have exceptional stamina?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"It's an excellent workout."

You just couldn't resist digging yourself even further into that hole. "I can think of better workouts to test your stamina."

"How long did you say you had again?"

"I have until two, why?"

"Just… thought you could give me a bit of extra tuition. Just now. So that I can get to work teaching Rufus about the birds and the bees as it were." Roger pretended to be meek, darting around what he really wanted. 

But you knew he had been checking you out since the second he stepped into your classroom. And who were you to pass up an opportunity like this? It had been a while since anyone checked you out, or did anything more for that matter. "Extra tuition?" you repeated slowly, widening your eyes.

Roger's thigh went limp, swaying off to the side in a casual kind of way. You couldn't resist gawping at how his jeans strained at his crotch. "That's right," he smirked. Even the way that he absentmindedly chewed at the skin around his fingernails while he looked at you made you forget how to breathe.

"I mean… I'm sure I can give you a copy of the curriculum and the learning outcomes," you began, fumbling with the sheets of paper on your desk, suddenly remembering that he was a parent. And you were a teacher. You couldn't risk it, could you? "And Rufus has a textbook, I'm sure you can…"

"I'm actually more of a hands-on learner. It might be helpful if you could walk me through the unit on reproduction in person. It's been a while since I…" He paused, fighting back a small laugh. "Reproduced."

"Of course. I need to actually prepare for my next class," you wittered, handing Roger a bundle of notes to sift through. "Some other time, maybe?"

The look of wild excitement wiped off of Roger's features. Now he just seemed concerned. "I'm sorry if I–" he began, standing up.

"It's fine," you said as you ushered him towards the door. "You're not the first to throw the odd innuendo my way." Lingering just at the door, you and Roger stood inches away from each other. The smell of his aftershave drew you closer, and the little details – the laughter lines and patches of sunburn – on his face held you there. "You have the school's number if you need anything else?" Inching the door open, you averted your gaze.

"And my offer still stands about that extra tuition," he said with a coy tap on your shoulder.

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Well, it was lovely meeting you."

"And you, Mr Taylor. Hopefully I'll see you again at Easter school."

Roger was halfway into the empty corridor when he looked back at you. "Oh, you will. Don't worry."

Closing the door and leaning against it, only then did you realise how ferociously your heart pounded. You could feel every breath hitch in your throat as you tried to unscramble your feelings. You raked your fingers through your hair. You could still hear Roger's footsteps echo down the hallway. You had everything to lose from this. But that didn't stop you from going after him.

"Mr Taylor!" you called, sprinting down the hallway on legs that felt like jelly. "Mr Taylor! Wait!"

Roger was barely a foot away from the front door when he turned around, smirking.

You stopped in your tracks, glancing around for prying eyes. Then you tried to regain your composure as much as you possibly could. "I…" you trailed off, searching for a reasonable excuse to drag him back to your classroom. "You've forgotten something, Mr Taylor."

"Have I?" He raised his eyebrows.

He might have played dumb, but Roger followed hot on your heels as you marched back to the lab. You could already feel your insides starting to churn at the thought of what was about to happen, but you were helpless to stop it.

When you got back to the classroom, you locked the door behind you, leaving you alone with the dull chatter from the playground outside streaming in from the window. Roger waited in the middle of the room, glancing around at the diagrams on the walls as he trailed his fingertips over the edge of one of the benches. You were about three steps behind what you wanted to happen; taking deep breaths with your back to the door. Sussing out your next move. "Someone might see us," you murmured. Then you made a beeline for the cupboard at the back of the room. "Come on, in here."

Roger's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he crammed himself inside, pressing up against your body and closed the door behind him. His hands found their way to your waist as if by sheer instinct. But for the first time since he arrived in your classroom, he looked just a tad more serious, peering down at you over the rims of his glasses. "Are you sure about this?"

"You're not?" You raised an eyebrow. "Those eyes of yours haven't stopped straying since the second you met me. Now cut the bullshit, Mr Taylor."

Off the back of that bold move, you could have died when he so nonchalantly reached up and unfastened the buttons on your blouse. He didn't even change a shade. "Just don't want you getting in trouble is all."

"I won't if no one catches us."

Roger was already peppering kisses along your jawline, rendering you utterly at his mercy. All you could do was grasp at his hair. "I'll try not to make you scream too loudly then."

That was a goddamn lie. You could already tell that he wasn't going to hold back. The way his lips crashed against yours told you that much. You were too distracted by Roger's efforts to move. You had to fight to drive your hands lower, tentatively dragging your nails down Roger's chest. Lower still, down to his belt. Unbuckling it. Making for his zipper.

But he kept his lips locked on yours, eager to distract you from his hands hiking up your skirt. Pressing his fingertips into your thighs so harshly you'd probably bruise. When he realised he was touching your bare skin, something clicked in his brain. He pulled away, his lips swollen and pink and breathless, and glanced down. "Stockings?" he grinned. "God, I wish we had teachers like you back in my day."

"That's just a bit weird," you giggled and rolled your eyes. 

"Oh, is that something you just save for the parents?" he asked, delivering a smack to your bottom.

"Only the rich, handsome ones."

Roger chuckled, slowly closing the gap between you both again. But then you were forced apart by the shrill sound of the bell. The end of lunchtime.

"Fuck," you hissed under your breath. You smoothed down your skirt and buttoned up your blouse.

Roger scowled, leaning back against the wall, almost sending a shelf full of beakers toppling over. "Well, that's a shame," he said, springing on the balls of his feet.

"You're telling me."

"Maybe some other time?" Roger suggested. He had a coy, hopeful look on his face.

"Yeah. Sure," you sighed, breezing out into the classroom. "You really should get going. Some of the older kids sometimes drop in when they have free periods. This has been… Nice."

Roger seemed taken aback, but nevertheless, he followed you to the door and kept up the act when you opened it out on to a bustling corridor. "I'll speak to Rufus about Easter school. Maybe I can bribe him with one of those violent computer games or something. Make sure he behaves, just for you."

"Thank you for your time, Mr Taylor."

After Roger left, you spent the rest of the day, and well into the night, torturing yourself with thoughts of what might have happened between you and Roger if you hadn't been so rudely interrupted. Wondering if he could play just as filthy as he talked. If he fucked as good as he looked. But then, you also wondered how you were going to look poor Rufus in the eye. After all, he was in your first class the following day.

At a quarter to nine, a steady stream of tired, grumpy teenagers invaded the lab and perched themselves behind each bench. As usual, Rufus straggled a good ten minutes behind his classmates. You were already at the board, going through yesterday's homework when he came in and tapped you on the shoulder. 

"Dad told me to give you this, Miss," he said, handing you an envelope with your name on it. Feeling warmth surge to your cheeks, you glanced out at the room, hoping none of your students somehow knew about what happened in the cupboard. "That's fine, Rufus. Go and sit down."

"Aren't you going to tell me off for being late?" he prodded.

"I'll let it slide this time." Then you turned your attention to the rest of the room. "Answers are up on the board; swap jotters. Mark each others' work."

Slipping your fingers underneath the seal, you pulled out the piece of paper inside. Your heart raced, and your eyes widened with every word.

'Dinner? 

'Friday? 

'You should have my number. 

'Let me know, 

'Mr T.

'P.S: Wear those stockings.'

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

Friendly reminder: you’ve made it this far! Congratulations! Please, if you enjoyed reading this fic, reblog it.

You spent 20 minutes reading this for free. I spent six hours on this (I currently have about £500 in freelance writing work that I could’ve done). I love writing fanfiction, but it’s really demoralising to rarely get feedback, and for tumblr’s algorithm to bury posts because no one shares them. And honestly, I don’t want to guilt you, but I’m kind of close to quitting sharing my writing on here because of it.

So please, support writers. Reblog fics (even if you don’t think you have a lot of followers)! Leave feedback (even just a key smash, don’t be shy)! I’d really appreciate it and I’m sure other authors would, too!

>>NEXT CHAPTER>>

[englandsgray]

Sherlolly Self-Interviews 2020

Well hi 👋

Ignoring the internal image of Gilderoy Lockheart smiling smugly while flashbulbs pop and saying ‘In my autobiography, Magical Me...’ 🙈😆 I shall take the opportunity of this lovely event to introduce myself as a writer of Sherlolly fanfiction on AO3...

I am English and somewhere over 30.  I watched the show as it aired, and lost my heart as quickly to Molly Hooper as to Sherlock Holmes.  The kiss is British television history.  Series 4 is my favourite.  Moriarty on the beach is life.  The Holmes brothers break my heart every time.

I am extremely lucky to have been provided some questions to answer here by @ohaine and @mybrainrots - huge, huge love and thanks to these two lovelies, and not just for this.  I admire you both so much as writers, and your support means the world to me ❤️ Thanks too, to @sherlollyappreciationweek!

Where did you begin to write, and have you written for other fandoms?  I wrote my first fanfic when I was eleven years old - a 100 page ramble about The Monkees.  Oh yes.  Then in 2018, I fell for the characters of the Disney Pixar film Cars and began writing and publishing.  So far so random!  Writing in this fandom sprang from binge-watching all four series of Sherlock during lockdown.  I remembered reading Louise Brealey talking about being disappointed Molly didn’t get chance to ‘roundly kick Sherlock’s arse’ and agreeing with her wholeheartedly.  That, over a few weeks, turned into my first fic - Who You Really Are.  

You’re a recent (and welcome!) arrival to the Sherlolly ship, and I was wondering if writing in an established, less active than it used to be fandom has been a challenge?   Thank you, firstly.  My experience of this fandom has been incredibly positive - the sense of welcome has been wonderful.  I will admit I was terrified posting the first fic - there are hundreds of times more stories posted daily in the Sherlock fandom as in the one I had some experience of.  But I needn’t have worried, it’s been a blast.  I will also admit, that it’s no small thing to be surrounded by such brilliant writing and the long-standing passion which goes with it.  But I find that inspiring in itself, and I’m very glad to be here - how supportive the fandom are makes me feel like I always have been!       

What’s your favourite place and way to write?  My aesthetic is Lin-Manuel Miranda in his in-law’s laundry room 🤣 I wrote my first ten-thousand words on the notes app on my phone before my other half told me to stop being ridiculous!  I switch between the laptop, my phone and longhand (I’m a sucker for a nice notepad and a Uni-Ball Eye) and, more often than not, not sat up properly at a table.   

Since you’ve (done something I’ve never managed successfully and) written a novella length fic... how did you organise/keep track of all the details and where you wanted the story to go?  Did you outline/plot in advance?  First of all - I would love to see a novella length fic from you @mybrainrots!  The final scene of Who You Really Are came to me very early on and I knew I wanted the fic to fit within TFP - a lot of it takes place in the timeframe of the final montage.  At first, it was going to be much more about Sherlock’s relationship with the ideas of sentiment and love (the phrase ‘I’m not sentimental about you, I love you,’ haunted me for a while) and I spent some time researching the psychology and playing with scenes from throughout the series - one of my favourites I didn’t go on to use was inspired by the final scene of THoB.  Using scenes from the canon gave an automatic structure, and I was always aiming for the final one I wrote early on - the two of them on the beach (everything is about the beach, with me!)  As I went along and started, inevitably, to slow down, I mapped out the chapters with a short note of what I wanted to be in each, then would add notes or phrases as they came to me - often emailed from my phone!  I had to force myself through a tricky section set in Baker Street at one point, but it came together in the end.  I did plot The Pathologist’s Skeletons on paper first, as I found with a casefic which remains a WIP, that I can get confused and lose focus when it comes to details and how to reveal them in a way which stays paced and interesting.  I’ll certainly do that from now on with longer stories and cases.  How did you keep up enthusiasm for the work?  I want to write an original novel, so I am forcing myself to work through the knotty bits and blocks as a learning experience.  Not everything is destined to be finished or finessed, of course, but I’m finding this process is building my confidence that I can overcome problems and slow periods.  I also find I know when I need some external inspiration - some of my favourite scenes have come to me while out walking the dog or sitting on the beach.  I’ve also been inspired by books or other series or things going on in the world, as we all are, and sometimes that’s pushed me on.  Plus, of course, I’m a newbie - I’m very much in the honeymoon period of my writing, even though I’ve loved Sherlock for ten years! (Ten years! Bonkers.) 

You’ve got a knack for writing Sherlock’s thoughts and capturing his voice.  That said, which character do you find easiest to write?  Which is the hardest?  Thank you so much.  I absolutely love writing Sherlock and Mycroft, and I’m sure that’s because they suit my somewhat over-the-top writing style!  I find Molly and her POV really difficult.  I want the scenes I write from her perspective to sound completely different to Sherlock, but that means writing in a style which doesn’t come as naturally to me.  I’m a long way off happy with that at the moment, but I’m enjoying the challenge.

Is there a scene or character that specifically inspired you to start writing Sherlolly?  The whole of TFP, but especially from the moment Sherlock arrives at Musgrave onwards.  I am desperate to see what a Sherlock Holmes who has been reacquainted with his own heart would look like.  I find his emotionality in those final scenes hugely compelling (Mycroft’s office is one of my favourite moments from across all four series) and, as I have always believed in him and Molly, I practically jumped up back in May after watching it and said ‘right, where’s my notebook?!’.

There’s a lovely peaceful, quiet feeling to your fic ‘We’re All Right At The Moment’.  Can you tell us what inspired it and if you’ve thought of doing the backstory that goes with it?  Thank you!  Like everyone, I would go back to January of this year and start again in a heartbeat, but I am hugely fortunate to be able to say that I have a lot to be grateful to the UK lockdowns for.  I might never have begun writing in this fandom otherwise, for one, and I have had a brilliant time so far and met some lovely people. Honestly, I don’t feel able to do any sort of justice in my writing to what has happened in the world in any broader sense than drawing on my own experiences of staying at home and enjoying my family.  This particular super-short fic sees Molly cutting Sherlock’s hair at home in Baker Street.  I wrote it in the evening after I had cut my other half’s hair and had been reminding myself that despite how horribly worried I was - and still am - about everything, we were all right in that moment, and to focus on that as much as possible.  I wanted to try to capture that, if for no reason other than to look back on this entire experience and remember something lovely, so I am so pleased to hear you felt the fic did that.  It was only after I finished it and reread it, that I realised it is ambiguous as to whether Molly is worried about Sherlock contracting the virus, or whether she is remembering him being treated for it... As I say, I don’t think I could write more about these extraordinary circumstances - perhaps it’s just too close at the moment - so I don’t plan on extending it.  But you know how it is, the plot bunnies hop where they will... 

Do you have a Sherlolly music playlist?  What are your top five favs from the list? Here’s a run down of (6 🙊) songs I have been getting emotional over in the last little while, leading my brain to assign their significance to my favourite couple...

Kissing You - Des’Ree - It’s so 90′s, it’s a bit cheesy, it’s oddly disturbing.  It helped me write A Request, Made Properly, and that gave me an excuse to have Sherlock kiss Molly in the snow.

How Long Will I Love You? - Ellie Goulding - part of the playlist, but also in remembrance of a friend who passed away recently.  Life is very short, love is forever.

High and Dry - Jamie Cullum - It’s made me emotional for a very long time.  The original is my partner’s version of choice, this is mine.  

Think About You - Delta Goodrem - Okay, this one isn’t emotional, and it’s not my usual vibe!  Blame the zoom exercise class I do!  But oh my goodness, it’s Molly.  Bless her.

Blinded By Your Grace (P.T.2. F.T. MNEK) - Stormzy - One of the best ever, I reckon.  Spent an awful lot of time thinking about angels and demons, grace and what it takes to save someone, while writing my latest - The Pathologist’s Skeletons.  This has been in my head most of the (blimmin’) time!

Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding - I didn’t know I was a fan of Ellie until I wrote this list... I don’t subscribe to the theory that the love Molly wants or that which Sherlock has to offer is any lesser because it isn’t ‘normal’ or expected. I don’t think romantic entanglement would come easy to either of them. But it’s still love and it would be beautiful.

Thank you so much for reading.  Thanks and love to @ohaine and @mybrainrots. And thank you @sherlollyappreciationweek for the event and for everything you do ❤️

Feel like I should sign off with a quote from the show...

“You’re not a puzzle-solver, you never have been. You’re a drama queen!” Dr John Watson (Moffat & Gatiss) 2014 😜

X

A fav fic of mine by @mybrainrots

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563193

A fav fic of mine by @ohaine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562904

My stuff:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/works

[motsimages]

A list of Hollywood things that may be what real life is in the US and the equivalent situation in Spain. Feel free to add your own country. I’d love to know of other places :)

This is going to be long, so the TL:DR is there are many things I know about the US because of the movies, landscapes, hobbies, cultural things, everyday life things and sometimes they feel very normal or like something that happens in movies, no in between. They are neither and this is a list of differences I can think of in regards to Spain.

Click there to find out, there are pictures and all.

- Going to school by car, by bike or in a yellow bus: We either walk or your parents drive you (specially when you are too young to go by bus on your own or your parents are overprotective). Not really bike because bike lanes are a mess (in that they don’t exist) in Spain, it is dangerous. There are school buses if students come from places that are further but they’re average travel buses and once you are 16, you cannot use them. You have to go to school from 16 to 18 in public transportation because school is not mandatory after 16, it is understood it’s your choice. You may have a motorbike at 16 but I don’t know anybody who went to school in it. All of this is extra -fun- if you live in a village as in there may not be any bus service if it’s a small place or you live far apart from the village.

The picture is an average school bus with a woman in charge of picking up children. It looks like it’s in the country or maybe, the outside neighbourhoods of a city.

- Dating: we don’t date. If you like someone, you find a way to hang out with them and hope for the best. It may be more or less clear what is going on but it’s not a date, just a plan. You go to a restaurant/movies/theater... when you _are_ in a relationship or with friends. Not a date. The confusing hell it is to watch people saying things like “It’s a date! I’ll pick you up at 8!” Ok. Maybe they pick you up but still not a date. Also: not a problem if you have sex straight away or if you don’t feel like it (because there is no social obligation around it, no date). It seems to be a big deal when you are 30 and “never been in a date” but the first time I was in a date was with my current boyfriend _after_we started going out (I was 30 btw). I met him on a dating app, btw. Still don’t consider the first time we met “a date”. “Going on a date” maybe a thing but still probably based on movies.

- Prom: very confusing. Specially the part where you _have_ to have a _date_ (again, not something we do ever). If we do a ball (IF, also it wouldn’t be a “ball” as such but a “party”), it is actually expected to go on your own, with your friends. It would be a massive social pressure to go with the boy you like (with whom nothing happened prior to this) in front of people. Nah, you either go with your partner that you already have or with mates. But generally speaking, there is no “prom” or “graduation” in high school. In my high school, we spoke with a restaurant to have dinner, invited the teachers we liked and after that, went to local bars to party until the next morning when we went to see what grades we had received for the year. It was done like this so those who failed the exams could still party with the rest.

As for uni, maybe some other colleges do something but we didn’t (mainly because I studied translation and half of the people in my year were abroad that year). I don’t even have a picture of my graduation. People usually dress smart and then wear a band with the colour of their faculty.

The picture is graduation from Tourism (if I’m not mistaken). It shows a group of girls on a scene, all of them smartly dresses with an orange band on their shoulders. Their classmates are sitting on the grades of this “theater thing”, all wearing the same band.

- High School: in general, it’s very confusing. It seems to me like there is some kind of obsession with high school years given all the movies about high school and all the “childhood sweetheart” stories out there. For us, it is quite an irrelevant period of our lives, almost like school. You do it because you have to but often, life (and interesting things) happen AFTER high school. Our high schools don’t have lockers, you just carry 5 books in a backpack. But you have your class, only a couple of things take place in other rooms (maybe Science in the lab, or some optional subjects). Public schools close once the classes are over and all the activities you may want to do, you do them somewhere else (paying for them, most of the time). There are no School teams of anything, you don’t play against other schools either (maybe private schools do, I don’t know). In my high school, I remember for Spring we organised like a week of activities and you would sign up with your mates if anything. You and 2 others would make a basketball team to play in the Basketball league against other people in your class but it isn’t “The Official Team”. I remember there was a card tournament for the game of Mus (typical from Madrid). Also, we don’t have The Popular, The Band Kid, The Nerds, etc. clearly separated. There is bullying (but our toilets are not full of water so you cannot drown there) but either you are normal or you are the weird kid, so to say. I was a weird kid who suffered some light bullying and then I went to average, with no bullying. Overall, everyone speaks with each other and unless it’s a severe case of bullying (which there are), there are no underdogs or closed groups. We don’t have yearbooks AT ALL and this “Clown of the class” thing? I personally find it borderline problematic.

Picture of an average high school in Spain. It’s separated in two halfs. On the left, there is a couple of people carrying backpacks in a corridor. It’s quite dark, a window at the end giving light to the corridor. On the right, one of the doors of the corridor is open and shows a classroom. There are lots of green tables and chairs, all of them in pairs. At the end there is a blackboard. The light comes from the window.

- Alcohol consumption and other drugs: We can drink at 18 and it’s not a big deal if you get drunk. By the time you’re 18, your parents have seen you drunk more than once. You may have gotten drunk with your parents. You’ve seen them drunk more than once. Spain is quite an alcoholic society, tbh. BUT we do not like aggressive drunkards or dependant drunkards. You can get drunk but you have to be able to still be nice. Your friends will stop hanging out with you if you get drunk too often, too heavy or too badly (and you will find those who follow you, obvs). We do it to socialize and have fun, not to knock out. Weed is partially legal (I don’t really know the law, you can get fined for carrying but not arrested, you can buy paraphernalia in shops, there are cannabis clubs, people can smoke on the street in the open, you can grow it at home, it can be used for medical purposes or recreational). Other drugs are illegal though personal use may be allowed? I don’t know but I do know that it’s relatively easy and cheap to find other harder drugs, and so, they are commonly used at parties. The 80s were a complicated time in Spain because the heroine consumption was over the roof. It killed many many people in that generation.

- Houses: in cities, it’s more frequent for people to live in a flat. Depending on the time when this flat was built, the quality of the materials will be better, the flat will be bigger or smaller. Houses are something you see mainly in villages and they tend to be next to each other, no garden (maybe a patio). In the last 20-30 years, people started to show an interest in something that looks like “suburbs” from the movies (even though “suburbio” in Spanish actually means the full opposite of “suburbs”) but it doesn’t fit the weather nor the way we live and I personally hate them. And wooden houses are out of this world, everything here is made of stone or brick. Traditional houses here are made of stone with thick walls (up to one meter of thickness). I attach pictures of houses in the North of Spain. Southern houses are full white, no wooden structures to be seen from the outside.

A village in what looks like the North of Spain. There is a lot of vegetation, you can see some white and brown houses in a grass field. There is a tower at the back. We see a town square with houses made of stone, red roof and wooden balconies. Most of the walls are painted white, some aren’t and you can see the stone itself.

- Physical contact: in the movies, people rarely hug. It seems to me that maybe in the 80s-90s people hugged, touched more on screen. At some point in the 2000s it stopped and now you have people crying their eyes out and their best friend just standing there. We stand closer to each other and touch each other to show care, interest and affection very often. Some people in Spain are not very tactile (and thus, really like Northern Europe) but generally speaking, if someone cries, you hug them (unless you know they don’t want it, in which case you stay nearby). Heterosexual men also hug and also hold each other by the shoulder, for instance. I know this is a shock for some foreigners (don’t know if in the US it would be). From the times I’ve met US people, they’re not only surprised but sometimes actually scared that people touch them. Not even Asians react the way US people do to physical contact in Spain. BTW, when I say “touch”, I mean “the arm, shoulder” mainly. Other places require closer levels of friendship. However, you may kiss your partner/lover anywhere in the street, it’s ok, usually goes unnoticed by people. Even my parents grab each others asses occasionally in the street.

This picture is from La Torre de Suso, where 4 friends gather after 10 years of being apart because an old friend died. It also touches on drug addiction and the 80s. It shows 4 men in their 40s wearing a jacket and a tie, smartly dress, smiling and about to hug each other in the middle of the street of what looks like a small town.

- Welcoming someone to the neighbourhood: apparently, people bring cakes to the new comers. We don’t, you’ll eventually meet your neighbours. Or not. But you have to say hello to the people you see on the stairs of your flat, in the street you live. In small towns/villages, you have to greet everyone you know, at least say “hi”, ideally actually stop for small talk (I’m terrible at this but getting better now that I live in a small town).

- Church: it seems to be a big part of people’s lives. Very often, people are going to church, all ceremonies seem to be religious (marriage, death...) and they tend to be Christian (sometimes Jewish but they seem to be less involved in their religious life?, or maybe the movie is done by non-religious people?). In Spain, everything is Catholic and at the same time, it isn’t. Many traditions are Catholic and people enjoy them but they aren’t Catholic themselves. There are churchgoers, of course. There are Catholic cults with massive power in politics and society (Opus Dei, mainly). But we had a fascist Catholic dictatorship and many people got very tired of it. To give you an idea of how things usually go: everyone in my village eats the same meal (fish and garbanzo beans for lunch, potato omelette for diner) on Good Friday (even my family, where nobody has ever been religious willingly). Only old people and some very Catholic families go to church. Most holidays are related to Catholic Saints (this gives us lots of long weekends and days off during the year) and they are often celebrated with a town fair that lasts several days.

In theory, Spain has no religion. In reality, it is Catholicism. In schools/high schools there is a subject called “Religion” and almost always it’s about Catholicism (teachers of this subject, even in public schools, are related to the Church somehow). It is not mandatory but often there is no alternative if you don’t want to take it (I was the only child who didn’t attend and had my own homework during that time that my mother chose for me: Ethics).

The image is from El Rocío, an important religious fair that takes place in the South of Spain. Many local fairs look similar to this. Lots of people are gathered in a small temporary white hut, decorated with garlands (white and red) and the flag of Andalusia that is green and white. There is a bar with small glasses of white wine and some plates with food on them.

This said, it’s very frequent to get married at the Town Hall with a couple of witness and it’s also very frequent for burials to happen in the Tanatorio, where people can say goodbye to their loved one but it’s not in church.

And even many church goers are not devoted Christians, are open minded about LGBT issues or other, for instance.

- Prison: We don’t have death penalty but people can spend their life in prison if their crimes are massive and they add years and years to their sentence. Prisons here are public and as far as I’ve seen in Spanish movies, there are no uniforms, you wear your everyday clothes. You will only go to prison if you committed a serious crime or if you have several small crimes. Often, the first time it’s a reduced sentence that can be made into paying a fine. The second time you will go to prison. This happens even for domestic violence/rape which usually causes great controversy in society. You can leave earlier if you behave well (very earlier actually) and sometimes you can leave the weekend and the come back to prison, or leave for x hours and come back to sleep. It depends on the sentence and behaviour, etc. I’d say terrorism is the hardest charge and right now, they are using terrorism as an excuse to sentence activists (there quite a lot of political prisoners in Spain).

I mention crimes because you have to have LOTS of other offences to go to prison. They usually are just fined.

The picture is from the movie Cell 211 which is an excellent movie. Do watch it. It shows the main character, a bold man with a goatie wearing a sweater whose sleeves have been cut off. He looks serious. On the background, many men wearing everyday sports clothes cheer and look in the same direction as him.

- Laws: I don’t know Spanish law very well (it bothers me to say that I may know better what to do with the police in the US than in Spain) but it seems to me, from the movies, that many things are made into a massive deal in the US. Like jaywalking is apparently an offence of some kind? Here you can just cross the street wherever. People respect the crossing path for safety but it’s not a crime to not do it. People also don’t sue companies or other people as often and it’s usually not that big of a deal maybe? In any case, it’s a completely different legal system.

. The 50s: The 50s in the US are fancy and colourful. Society seems to have been thriving, everything was getting better. In Spain, the hunger years were starting to be over but many people were poor. We were in the worst of the Franco dictatorship, it was quite a rural society that had been destroyed by a civil war (the effects of which are still being felt). Rich people were fascist, poor people could be anything (many were actually communists, republican or other leftist). This is not a happy time in Spain. Many people had left to be refugees in other countries, many were leaving illegally to work in Germany or France. The music we listened to at the time was definitely not Elvis Presley (look for Lola Flores or Miguel de Molina, even though he ended up fleeing the country because he was openly gay and republican and they almost killed him once).

This image is from the movie Los Santos Inocentes, based on a book of the same title. A classic of Spanish modern literature and cinema. This is the way most people looked in the 50s in Spain. Even now old people look like this in villages.

It is like a family picture in front of a white house. Everyone is wearing black, dark blue, dark green or grey. From left to right, there is a boy sitting on a bench that is situated next to the door. Next, it’s a young girl wearing a long grey skirt and a dark green jacket. By the door, the mother holds a very thin boy who seems to be either deeply sick or dead. She wears mostly black and gray. The boy has the brightest green in the scene. Next to her, there is a man wearing a gray jacket and a bonet and finally, there is an older man that seems to be smiling (the only one smiling, everyone else has a serious and gloomy face).

And that’s what I can think of right now.

[artificialqueens]

The kind of love you don't believe in (Jan x Jackie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[7337 words]

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

[ divorce lawyer/wedding planner au ]

A/N - i love this fic so much that i’ve tried to prolong it several times to no avail. it’s based off a Tumblr prompt me and jazz saw and ran with and honestly i’d make her a coauthor but she wouldn’t be impressed so instead it’s dedicated to her in the hopes that she’ll actually accept that for all her hard work and amazing comments while writing this. couldn’t have done it without her. i hope you fall as in love with it as i am.

*

Jan picks at the edges of her french-tipped manicure. It’s peeling. She stares at it for a second, examining the way the shiny polish reflects the sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. If she’s got her timings right, Bob will barrel through her office door in a minute or two and tell her to go home. Or to eat something. Or to do both which is the most probable outcome and Jan’s always been good at finding the most probable outcomes.

She’s a lawyer. It’s her job.

She’d started in family court and it was fun. There was a joy to bringing a child back home to their parents or filing adoptions and the kids’ faces would make Jan light up. She’d appealed for name changes and gender assignments and she was good, no one questioned that. One corner of her office had a neon rainbow sign and a comfy armchair and some books and some toys and it was usually occupied by a little kid who shouldn’t have to spend their afternoon in a lawyers office. But if she could look up from some paperwork to see a calm little kid - she could be calm and happy.

Then she started taking divorce claims.

And she’s a little less vibrant.

(The world feels a little less magical when your job is to help people split their lives in two.)

The problem is, she’s good. She’s really good. She hasn’t lost a divorce case and she gets a name for them. She gets recommended divorce cases until she only has a couple of gay kids and adoptions and custody agreements a month. Trixie takes the rest - nice, warm, motherly Trixie who makes everyone a cup of tea and asks them about their day and wears pastel pinks and yellows. Jan’s not bitter, she’s just jaded. She turns up to work in her charcoal pantsuits and her red heels, makes her coffee in her matte black mug, spends the day in her office with the door closed and leaves in silence. She’s happy, she’s just not what she used to be.

She tried to explain as much in the kitchenette the firm shares. There are only four of them; herself, Katya, Trixie and Bob - the boss lady. Bob does corporate, Katya does criminal, Trixie does the pro bono work and most of the kids’ stuff and Jan slogs away on divorces.

“I want to do something that feels meaningful,” she whined, pulling her turtleneck over her mouth as Bob pointed at the crossword question she couldn’t answer.

“Accumulation,” Katya said with a mouthful of apple that she crunched next to Jan’s ear, taking pleasure in the way the blonde scrunched her face up.

“Doesn’t fit the clue. It says impatience.” Bob reminded her, underlining it with her finger just to make a point.

“Anticipation,” Trixie yelled from the counter where she’d perched with her tea. “Jan use it in a sentence!”

“I anticipate going home.” Jan moaned to a cackle from the pink-clad woman. She stood, checking her turtleneck in the microwave door before leaving the kitchenette with a sigh.

So she’s waiting for Bob to come in and tell her to go home. It’s the middle of summer but it’s nearing seven and it’s a Friday. She’s got the weekend off for a wedding. She’d rather be in small claims court if she’s honest.

The idea of love becomes infinitely less appealing when you are surrounded by its decay at every turn. She’d rather just go home to her cat who she knows will always love her and cannot file a legal document saying it’s got irreconcilable differences and wants the house but none of the furniture.

No, Marceline would never.

*

Jackie opens the shop at six a.m. because she likes the feeling of the streets in the early morning. The sun is already up because it’s the middle of summer but the city still feels barren. It’s so quiet, she can hear her own heart among the calls of the birds. She enters ‘End Of The Aisle Weddings’ with a peppy smile and relaxed confidence and zero caffeine - saving that for her two p.m. pick me up when she and Rock can discuss their clientele over leftover wedding cake and hot drinks served in novelty mugs. It’s her favourite time of the day after opening.

She checks her planner almost immediately, plays her seventeen-ish voicemails while crossing things off the list and tacking on extra items that brides have found in a frenzy. She has one wedding coming up that should be fantastic but is also draining her more than usual with the number of requests the bride has. She gets about three calls a day making amendments and she’s more than happy to agree to them because most of the time she’s just a little drunk on the idea of being in love.

She calls the florist, the caterers and the photographer before Rock will be out of bed, skidding around the backroom’s slick floors in just her socks as she rearranges goodie bags and vases and table decorations organised by date.

Sometimes, she leans on the sage-green wooden table they use for meetings and looks through engagement photoshoots, planning her own. She imagines her hair in pin curls as her fiance dips her - probably in a field.

With their cat.

And some fairy lights.

She’s spent a lot of time hoping and dreaming and praying for her future wife to just walk through the door like they do in the romcoms she’s been born and raised on. She wants her ‘You’ve got Mail’ moment - a book with a rose in it and a woman she thought she hated but also loved. She wants someone to convince her to fall in love. She wants big moments and small gestures and the sweet warmth she sees in so many couples but she’s alone. It’s a cruel irony.

She hadn’t planned to be a wedding planner. She studies interior design and marketing at uni - interning at a wedding planner and never really leaving. She thought she’d do corporate, or events. Turns out, she’s pretty happy where she ended up.

Just a little lonely. Ever so slightly. Sometimes.

She brews another cup of chai and inhales the scent of cardamom pods, watching the business people on their ways to work through the big glass front windows - rain spattering on them like tiny droplets of light.

*

Jackie plans good weddings. She knows it’s not particularly objective but she knows she’s good at her job. By this point in the planning, she’s known the couple for close to a year so she’s pretty comfortable just to chill at the reception. She puts out fires where she’s needed in her white shirt and tailored black trousers - it’s typical attire for her - a black blazer hung on a hook somewhere, waiting for her exit. She’s comfortable, mobile and most importantly, she has pockets.

She knows she plans a good wedding which is why she’s just a little surprised to see (an objectively gorgeous) blonde woman sat at the bar, holding a tumbler of scotch. She’s in an off-the-shoulder yellow dress but somehow the summery look feels a little off-kilter when faced with her expression. It’s like it doesn’t fit her even though it fits her perfectly (objectively of course).

She scowls at the scotch before taking another sip and Jackie decides to approach as even though she’s terminally delightful she is not someone who enjoys the conga and it’s coming dangerously close.

She sidles up to the blonde girl, ordering a ‘sex on the beach’ with a smile to the bartender who she’s known for years. Jaida just winks, sliding over the drink and walking as far away as she can.

Jackie just sips her drink and watches for a minute or so until the girl flips her curls over her shoulder and stares her dead in the eyes. Her eyes are blue. A soul-piercing blue. But they look lost.

“Jan,” she announces, nonchalantly and Jackie has to blink a few times before she realises that the girl - Jan - is saying her name. She gives a frankly stupid little wave before she replies, voice full of amusement at her own stupidity.

“I’m Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you Jan,” she smiles, sipping her drink through the tiny straw Jaida always gives her after she spilt a particularly colourful cosmo down her old favourite shirt.

Jan nods towards her drink, “ Sex on the beach? All I’m getting from this wedding is a handshake in the garden.” She almost manages to maintain her slightly stormy demeanour but she cracks at the last second, blinding white teeth sparkling as Jackie has to hold onto the bar to stop herself falling off her chair in laughter.

“Not a wedding person?” Jackie asks, once she’s settled herself again and Jan tilts her head like she’s wondering why Jackie is bothering.

“I’m alone drinking expensive scotch at a bar,” Jan responds dryly. “I’m a divorce lawyer, I’m not exactly primed for this sort of thing. There is too much hope in this gazebo.”

Jackie feels the twinge of a smile at her cheeks and forces herself to look down for a second. “Fair enough, how do you know Rose and Nicky?”

Jan waves Jaida down and slips a tenner across the counter in exchange for another tumbler. She takes a long sniff and then a sip before she responds. “Rose - Rosé as we’ve called her ever since she chugged a bottle in uni - she was in my Law program - or at least the social work modules.” Jackie hums in approval and also a sort of understanding. She’s very good at putting the pieces together.

“You never planned to do divorces huh?” She asks but this time Jan’s the one to avert her gaze, staring ahead at the bottles of alcohol as Jackie rolls up the sleeves of her shirt  - it’s a warm day and the gazebo holding the bar and the dancefloor isn’t particularly well vented, she’ll bring it up with the company when she gets back to the office.

“Damn Sherlock.” Jan chuckles when she finally comes up with her response, tugging her dress back off the shoulders from where it’s risen up to. “No, I’m trained for family court - name changes, adoptions, custody - the sort of thing with happy children and good, fulfilling life changes. I’m just naturally good at homewrecking.”

“It’s not homewrecking if they ask for it,” Jackie points out, tilting her glass in a way that makes her look a little bit drunker than she is but then again she’s been on the champagne since ten when Rose forced a glass into her hand and the caterers are so well trained they just top you up.

She stands up, wobbling a bit on her heels and the uneven grass. “Wait,” she mutters, Jan placing a guiding hand on her lower back for stability. “You don’t believe in love do you?” It makes Jan snort in a very unladylike way but Jackie is deadly serious. “I’m a wedding planner. I love love. But you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” Jan sighs dejectedly, helping Jackie back onto her stool and ordering her another drink, handing out tenners like they’re coins. “I just think it’s underwhelming and disappointing and never ends well. Women will disappoint me. My cat won’t.”

“You’ve never sounded gayer.” Jackie deadpans.

They look at each other inquisitively. Eyes drifting, searching.

“Only one of us wore a suit to a wedding.” Jan points out and they both burst into raucous laughter that makes the conga line (somehow still going) look at them a little strangely.

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

*

19:14

Janet are you busy?

19:18

Why.

19:21

I’m taking you to Karaoke.

*

Jan is pleasantly surprised to see Jackie in a mini dress but she’s also not mad about it. The dress is emerald green, hits just above her mid-thigh and is dangerously strappy and the heels Jackie paired with it make her legs look impossibly long. Jan also dressed up - but her purple mini dress feels more normal - less of a statement.

“Janet!” Jackie shouts from the entrance, clearly already tipsy even though it’s barely gone half-nine. She’s waving rather frantically and it takes willpower for Jan to move towards it instead of away but she reaches the girl who is warm and happy and she feels the stress in her shoulders melt away.

“Hi Jackie,” she sighs begrudgingly, holding the door for the brunette who practically skips into the bar that isn’t that empty. It’s a friday night. She should have expected it.

Jackie spins on her heels when they get inside and she gives Jan a once over with her eyes. “You’re not allowed whisky,” she decides after a little thought and Jan just stands there a little shellshocked as Jackie orders their drinks, winking at the bartender to get them quicker.

When she comes back to the high table Jan picked for them, she’s holding a glass of red wine and something that smells fruity which she sets in front of the blonde. Jan looks at it in disgust.

“What is that?” She asks, hoping she will like the answer.

“Pomegranate Mojito,” Jackie responds, looking smug and not at all phased by Jan’s death glare. “Drink up,” She says in a faux high-pitched tone and Jan mocks her as she sips the unnervingly pink drink.

She makes a face which makes Jackie almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking.

After about half an hour of watching drunk girls from the city university sing Taylor Swift off-key, Jackie decides they’re going to go up.

“I’m picking the song.” She demands and Jan raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“Okay Princess,” she responds because her drink is full again and it clearly had more alcohol than she’d been expecting. She’s a little disappointed that her whisky tolerance didn’t carry over into her weird cocktail tolerance - standing and immediately wishing she’d been sat down again.

Jackie once again leaves and returns smug, pushing the mojito towards Jan in a motion for the woman to down it which she does so dutifully - feeling it slide down immediately - smoother than the vodka shots she’d do in law school but still not quite her favourite scotch.

Bring it fucking on.

The first notes of ‘Nobody But You’ by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani play and all Jan feels is regret.

She should never have let Jackie on her Spotify. That was a secret.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised to hear Jackie nail Blake Shelton.

*

15:07

Janet, I need to make name cards are you busy?

15:12

Fuck no.

Wait sorry, frick no.

15:20

Jannnnnnnn pleaseeeeee

15:34

I can leave at 5. Meet at yours?

15:35

You know where the key is if you beat me there

*

Jan does not beat her there - it would be impossible - she’s a lawyer who hasn’t left the office before six since she was twenty-two and Jackie owns a wedding planning business that despite having a very cute shop - half resides in her living room anyway. They may both be twenty-eight but they are very different.

Jackie does, however, open the door with a mug of coffee already brewed and a dot of ink on her otherwise bare cheek. It’s all Jan can do not to lick her finger and wipe it away, finding it endearing how the girl’s organised behaviour could turn chaotic on a moment’s notice.

She enters the apartment and relishes in how homey it feels. Her own isn’t as lived in as it should be after five years but Jackie’s is warm and painted in a sage green tone that highlights the light wood floors. She sees the brunette little set up on the rug and feels glad that she keeps a change of clothes in her office as she’s much better equipped to sit cross-legged on the floor in a sweater and some leggings rather than her usual pantsuit.

The coffee is just how she likes it, warm and sweeter than anyone should know about.

Her hair is still in a low bun so she removes one of the hair ties and lets it fall down her back in a wavy low pony, pulling the bits by her ears out so she feels less like she just came from an office and more like she belongs. The apartment always makes her feel this urge to become comfortable and she spends so much of her time uncomfortable she refuses to fight it.

Jackie just smiles as she watches the blonde adjust - it’s like watching a snake shed its skin and even now she looks a little less like the corporate robot she sometimes meets for coffee and a little more like the woman who fell asleep on the couch during ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ with her mouth open. It’s cute.

They get to work on the cards pretty quickly or at least they try to. Jackie makes her write on a piece of notepaper before she lets her near the nice pens but they both realise rather quickly that her handwriting is chicken scratch.

“I do a lot of paperwork and I have to write fast to keep up with all the yelling,” she whines as she is relegated to writing little notes for the kids at this particular wedding. “How do you even know how to do this?” She asks, gesturing to the fountain pen and the fancy hand-lettered place cards scattered across the patterned rug.

Jackie sighs as some ink blobs at the end of an otherwise perfectly good name card and throws it into the discard pile with a huff. “My calligrapher fell through one time so I figured I could make extra money by doing them myself.” She admits. “Plus it is fun to use colourful pens.” Jan quirks an eyebrow at the mention of the colourful pens, scanning the rug indiscreetly for anything that isn’t black ink.

Jackie chuckles at her indiscretion and stands up, going to the cupboard by the kettle and, instead of pulling out tea or biscuits like one would usually keep next to a kettle, puls out a caddy of brightly coloured pens. She points vaguely to one. “That one’s purple and glittery.

“Purple and glittery?” Jan repeats back with childlike awe that makes Jackie snort indecently with laughter. Jan scowls. “I’m a lawyer, Jaqueline. My special occasion pen is a red biro,” she rebukes with a huff.

“Gimme that,” Jackie makes a grabby hand towards the pen Jan is now clutching and the woman mocks pulling it closer before handing it over. Jackie scribbles it on one of the discarded cards to check it still works and then takes a fresh new one and writes ‘Janet the Boss-Ass Lawyer’ on it in curly handwriting that makes Jan blush. She then fills the edges with hearts and hands it to Jan with a soft smile.

Jan holds it close to her heart before looking at it with tenderness. She examines it in the light of the industrial lamps Jackie has but she decides that’s not enough so she skitters into Jackie’s west-facing bedroom and lets the glitter sparkle in the golden hour sunshine. Jackie’s always three steps ahead of her so she follows slowly and patiently, listening to the soft mutters of the happy blonde who hugs her ferociously once they’re both looking at the sunset.

“Thank you,” she whispers, half holding her breath and Jackie smiles.

“You deserve to always be as happy as you are with that pen.” She tells her, dead serious and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie did not mean for her to take the pen.

*

12:41

Janet do you have my purple pen?

12:52

I know it’s your lunch break Jan.

13:24

I’m just concerned for the safety of the glitter pen.

*

“Even her handwriting is romantic, that fucking bitch,” Jan laments as she fills out the crossword.

“Ire,” Katya mutters, pointing to three boxes going downwards and Jan puts her hand out for a high five, pleased when Katya agrees. The word is neatly put in in purple, glittery ink and it brings a little something to her day - one could venture to call it joy but Jan’s never been that sort of person.

Katya’s only just come out of the storage cupboard she entered seven minutes ago and if Jan is right with her timings, Trixie will exit in a few minutes looking dishevelled and still with a hint of red lipstick on the outer corner of her mouth. She will eat an apple while sitting on the counter and be absolutely no use to Jan’s crossword.

Jan decides she is done with them for the day and leaves them to their own devices as she slinks back to her office. She places the pen down carefully in the holder full of only back biros because she likes to know where it is and pulls the notecard out of her briefcase just to look at it. Again. She would hesitate to call this emotion joy.

The notecard grounds her mind enough to sort herself out for the last adoption case of the month and Jan lets her mouth twitch into a smile when she thinks of the kid she’ll be fighting for. He is small, sweet and tenacious and reminds her of Jackie in a way she did not expect.

When he runs into her office, he makes a beeline for her desk and she ruffles his hair in a form of greeting. He has been there a few times before so he is comfortable and he collects the puzzle book from her magazine rack and peruses her pens to fill it in before retreating to the armchair in the back. He picks the purple one and she cannot blame him. She would too.

She settles the papers rather quickly getting everything ready for the court date set in a week and a half. All they need is for a judge to stamp them and the boy can go home secure. She relishes in the opportunity to provide that for him and she texts Jackie about how hopeful she is. Jackie responds with a pen emoji and Jan chuckles at her through the phone.

15:12

The pen is safe Jacqueline.

15:15

That’s all I wanted to know Janet.

15:23

Is this our first fight?

15:25

Are you already planning the divorce?

15:27

That was low.

15:30

I’m not sorry. Get back to work pen thief.

*

10:20

Are you using the mug?

10:24

It’s an abomination.

10:26

You didn’t answer my question

*

Jackie makes mugs for all her clients. It’s a personal hobby, decorating them with ‘Mrs and Mrs’ or whatever titles. Sometimes it’s a wedding hashtag. Sometimes it’s for a stubborn lawyer who needs a little more sunshine in her life.

She thinks of it as a joke and it is… to begin with. Then she’s on her iPad making mockups on procreate and it just sort of happens.

It’s a big mug - one of those that carry more coffee than you need with room for whipped cream (there should always be room for whipped cream, says the lactose intolerant wedding planner). It’s a white base with small, bright rainbows that says ‘Girl, you’re testi-fine’ in a graphic nineties font and it makes Jackie want to screech every time she sees it (she keeps it on display for this exact reason because nothing brings more joy than catching it in the corner of her eye during a dull moment).

She wraps it up pretty in silver paper and places it into a nondescript cardboard box for delivery. They meet at a coffee shop one morning when Jan is bored and Jackie has a lull in weddings and she hands it over with a devilish grin that makes Jan squint at her to read between the lines. The lines are not obvious.

Jan does not screech. She stares for a very very long time and then, she lets out a very slow controlled breath. And then she loses it. She cackles loudly and the patrons of the cafe look at the two lesbians in the corner with bemused faces and Jackie doesn’t care because this mug is one of the greatest decisions she’s ever made.

Jan takes it back to the office and fills it with hot coffee - three sugars and almond milk and just sits with it for a second. She almost wants people to see it but it’s so awful she will never admit to it. When Katya walks in, however, she is not angry. The blonde takes one look at the garish print and cheerful message and has to cling to the countertop for support - the mug staring at her until she can breathe again.

“That is the best mug I have ever seen and I demand one.” Katya decides and Jan texts Jackie under the table who immediately responds with a selfie of herself with a plain mug and the caption ‘I am plotting.’

Jackie plots exquisitely and makes three more lawyer-y mugs.

Jan is oddly proud.

*

20:32

Jacks.

Are you busy?

I want you to meet my cat.

*

“That is the single gayest message I have ever received,” Jackie announces, stepping into the house from the rain and shaking her umbrella out of the door decisively. Jan is already there with a novelty mug with the slogan ‘gay and can do maths’ printed across it, filled with hot chocolate and too much whipped cream and Jackie takes it readily - soaking up the heat of the house to replace some the early winter climate stole from her.

She sinks onto Jan’s expensive but still plush couch and pulls a blanket over herself like this is a usual occurrence. For all the times Jan has been at hers, Jackie has never ventured into the lawyer’s place and yet despite the blondes complaints about how barren it is - Jackie feels at home.

The walls are a little bare, the colours a little dark and the floor is cold even with the fire lit but she still feels cosy under her blanket, mug held just below her chin. Jan sets her own mug of green tea on the sideboard before she exits the open-plan kitchen-living room, on a mission to find her cat. When she returns she is holding a perfectly happy beige and coffee coloured long-haired cat who snuggles into the blonde’s chest with a purr. She nuzzles her nose into it, a blush spreading across her cheek as she notices Jackie stare.

“Jaqueline, this is Marceline,” she says as she carefully holds out the cat who is perfectly happy to be held. Jackie cradles her carefully.

“Hi Marceline,” she coos and Jan smiles softly as she brushes the light cat hairs off her flannel.

Jackie holds the ragdoll cat with one hand and boops her nose with the other, giggling as she pulls her face back, mewling slightly.

“Oh, what’s Jackie doing to you,” Jan coos in a voice Jackie would usually reserve for babies. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Jackie just watches as the cat is removed from her arms and burrows back into Jan’s chest as she slides back into the sofa with her. Jackie rests her chin on Jan’s shoulder, peering at the clearly attention-spoiled cat.

“You’re a helicopter parent,” she jibes sweetly and Jan very carefully elbows her.

“You would be the worst helicopter parent,” Jan rebukes but instead of laughing, Jackie gulps and leans back a little bit. Jan puts Marceline down so she can face the brunette. “Hey, what did I say?” She asks, confused.

“Sorry,” Jackie mutters under her breath, “I’ve just always hoped I wouldn’t be my mum if I became a parent.” Jan gets it. Well, she doesn’t really get it but she places her warm, fur-covered hand on Jackie’s bare forearm and leans towards her slightly.

“You would be a fantastic parent Jackie.” She tells her sincerely. “I swear.”

Jackie smiles again and Jan thinks she would do anything for that smile.

*

06:21

Jackie I think I’m sick.

06:23

Temperature?

06:24

Fucking hot.

06:25

I can’t trust you at home by yourself can I?

Screw it I’m coming to pick you up. Wear clothes.

*

Jackie looks at the girl asleep in her passenger seat with a soft but worried smile. She doesn’t look awful - pale and a bit peaky but it’s probably just a fever she tells herself as they drive to the shop. She’s planning to set her up in the back corner on a pile of cushions and blankets scavenged from both of their apartments. Ideally, she’d stay at home with her but winter weddings are just as popular as summer weddings so she’s got a fair few to work on today and she can’t do it from home. Or Jan’s.

She has to wake Jan up when they get there and it pains her a little bit to do so, head lolled against the condensated window - it can’t be comfortable. She rubs a gloved hand up and down Jan’s arm to try and rouse her and she comes around easily but looking sleepy.

“I feel like shit,” she mutters and it makes Jackie laugh because of course, Jan doesn’t become sweeter when she’s sick.

They eventually get her situated with a half-gallon water bottle and a hefty amount of blankets and Jackie will admit it’s adorable to see her cocooned as Jackie sits at the work table with flower arrangements splayed out around her.

It’s just past eleven when Jan rouses from her nap and she squints until her eyes adjust to the relatively bright shop lights.

“What are you doing?” She questions, straining her neck to see what Jackie’s working on. Jackie raises an eyebrow and takes the portfolio over to her, pulling one of the many blankets over her legs and placing a hand on Jan’s forehead as a gauge of illness.

“So,” Jackie starts, flicking open the leather portfolio to the relevant page. “Someone wants a coastal wedding in winter.” She winces in disagreement and Jan lets her head fall onto Jackie’s shoulder.

“Well, love is a beach,” She quips and Jackie rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky I wouldn’t hit a sick person,” she retorts.

“How do you do this job?” Jan whines after watching Jackie highlight things for ten minutes straight. Admittedly Jan also highlights things but it’s usually in an ugly neon yellow and not pastel blue.

“What do you mean? It’s plan-tastic,” Jackie jokes and Jan looks like she would stab her if she could move her body. “Do you want soup?” She asks trying to change the subject before Jan actually murders her.

“Yes,” Jan harrumphs but she does smile.

While Jackie is making the soup (or warming it up out of the can) Jan flicks through one of the albums Jackie keeps at the back of the shop and finds herself smiling at some of the pictures. She finds the album from Nicky and Rose’s wedding and comes across a picture of her and Jackie at the bar. She’s smiling - they both are. It’s cute.

“She has a heart!” Jackie exclaims when she comes back to the blonde looking at wedding photos and Jan scowls like a petulant child, only taking the soup when Jackie tells her she’ll take it back to the kitchenette and Jan realises she’s not sure she can use her legs at the moment. It’s good soup. It’s good company.

Jackie drives her home at the end of the day, tucking her into bed with a cold compress and when Jan wakes up the next morning she finds the brunette on the couch under ‘her’ blanket with an empty mug of hot chocolate on the sideboard and Marceline curled up by her cheek.

She presses a kiss to her temple and curls up on the other end of the couch with a glass of water, flicking through the channels on the TV until she finds a rerun of Sleepless in Seattle which she watches with the volume on low and subtitles on to let Jackie sleep a little longer.

*

15:34

Jackie?

Are you free tomorrow?

It’s a saturday?

Like 6-12

15:45

Should I ask?

15:47

City LGBT Gala

It’ll be nice I swear

It’s just Trixie’s bringing a date

15:48

Are you asking me on a date Janet?

15:50

Would you say yes?

*

Jan picks Jackie up at six. She stands under the porch of Jackie’s apartment building pressing the buzzer and wondering why you host an LGBT Gala in the middle of January. She leans on the dry wall and watches the spitting rain hit the pavement, grateful for the long black umbrella she’s brought.

She’s in a black blazer with fitted black trousers that end just above the ankles making her short legs look much longer. Under the blazer is a silk camisole in a champagne colour and she’s wearing nude Louboutins to tie it all together. Her long blonde hair is down and she examines herself in the glass door just to reaffirm she looks good. She feels good - better than ever really and as she waits for Jackie she’s pretty sure she knows why.

The Persian is in a floor-length gold dress that fits her just right, her brown hair curled and tumbling down her back.  It all just works and Jan feels like a lucky, lucky woman to be escorting her - she tells her as much.

“God Jackie,” she tells her, eyes wide and honest. “You look… damn.”

Jackie smiles shyly, blushing like she doesn’t believe a word she’s being told. “You don’t scrub up too bad yourself,” She quips back, making a motion for Jan to twirl which the blonde does immediately. “Those trousers are good for your ass.” She doesn’t mean to say it (she does). “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” She gestures to herself this time and Jan shakes her head.

“God no Jacks, you’re gorgeous,” she tells her emphatically and Jackie touches her chin gently in a joking manner to close her gaping mouth. Jan puts up the umbrella and thanks the height of the heels because she’s the almost the same height as Jackie in heels. There’s usually only an inch or two difference but now there’s less than half an inch and she feels powerful.

She helps Jackie into the car and then runs around to clamber in herself - grateful for the taxi.

“So what are we doing?” Jackie asks, nervousness hinting in her voice. She’s playing with the edge of her skirt and Jan takes the hand firmly.

“It should be fun,” she tells her, playing with the ring on Jackie’s thumb. “Me and Trixie are there for our work with trans kids - she’s bringing Katya, you’ll like her. She’s insane but she also does criminal law so it’s to be expected. There’ll be dinner, some activists will do speeches, there’s a queer prom aspect too so we’ll greet some kids and have a chat - you’ll love that. Then we dance and drink heavily.” She takes a deep breath mostly for comedy because Jackie still seems tense and the brunette cracks a smile.

“It sounds fun Janet,” she says, calmer now, intertwining their fingers properly and squeezing.

Jan has to let go of Jackie’s hand to put the umbrella up and they link arms again as they walk into the foyer of the grand looking hotel hosting the gala. They meet Trixie and Katya in the glamorous round-room, Trixie dressed in a rose-pink gown and Katya in a burgundy suit similar to Jans. Jan was right, Katya is insane but she is wonderful and Jackie ends up seated between herself and Jan at the dinner (Jan offered to sit next to the flamboyant charity manager so that Jackie would feel more comfortable and she’s very happy she took the offer).

The first course is Flank steak flatbread with roasted tomato, cilantro, roasted garlic and black cumin mayo. It’s decadent and stupidly delicious and Jackie asks Jan if she can get her the number of the catering company which Jan gladly agrees to, hand on Jackie’s lower back through the opening in the chair. It’s meant as comfort but Katya winks at them both several times and Jackie just blushes until Trixie calls her down. The other people on the table talk to Trixie about her work with LGBT youth and Jackie has to place a hand on Jan’s arm until Trixie points out it’s Jan’s work too and the blonde calms the fuck down. Cocktails are delivered to the table and Jan does not scoff at the fruity beverage. Jackie calls it progress.

For the main, Jan chooses a roasted lamb leg with thyme sauce, ratatouille vegetables and sauté potatoes while Jackie goes for the mixed grill with oriental rice and seasonal vegetables. At some point, Jackie ends up with all Jan’s veg and Jan ends up with half of Jackie’s rice but neither can distinguish when it happened. Nothing much interesting happens in the main course. So far no one has asked why Jackie is here which is a relief to her and no one has openly insulted Jan or said anything particularly incendiary so she feels safe in her peace of mind.

Dessert is cheesecake with berries and it is precisely when Jackie decides she needs to be brought to all future gala events. She whispers this into Jan’s ear and the blonde snorts into a raspberry. Katya watches them both and it makes the brunette feel like she’s done something wrong even when she and Trixie have a perfectly lovely and definitely hypothetical conversation about wedding flowers for people who like pink and red. Jackie assures them that she could do it easily and makes sure to hand over a business card she’s been keeping in the back of her phone for years. As a wedding planner specialising in queer events, she’d figured this could be a good chance for promotion. The whole table ends up discussing Jackie’s business by the coffee and truffles portion of the dinner and Jan just leans back with a proud smile as Jackie hands another business card to the over-eager charity director who wants a ceremony for himself and his longtime boyfriend.

The speeches are good but dull and she drinks her cocktail and then part of Katya’s in waiting for it to be over.

The meeting of the little gay kids in their suits and their dresses and their pronoun pins though is everything Jackie had hoped it would be and more and it makes her heart so happy to watch a teenage non-binary couple slow-dance to Billie Holiday.

Jan hits it off with a six-year-old called Milo who asks her if Jackie is a princess to which Jan replies “yes, she’s the princess of Persia,” and Jackie wants to cry. She takes a photo on her phone of them hugging and texts it straight to Jan because it’s precious.

Somehow, in all the madness, they end up slow-dancing. It’s not really the right song for it and Jackie doesn’t want to get makeup on Jan’s blazer no matter how many times Jan says it’s okay but it’s warm and comfortable and Jackie wonders why she’s spent the better part of eight months not being in Jan’s arms.

They end up on the very edge of the dancefloor because Jackie decides she needs to take her shoes off (she doesn’t) and suddenly it feels more real because Jan is towering above her and she feels like she’s in the rom-com she’s always wanted.

“Jan,” she whispers because the moment feels too important to speak aloud in, “do you believe in love?” She sounds so innocent and she’s looking up at Jan with her brown eyes so fragile that Jan pulls her even closer - the hand on her lower back warm and firm.

“I think we all have a capacity for love,” she muses as they sway out of time with the music. “It’s very human of us. But yes, I believe in love.” Jackie nods slowly, processing what’s being said.

She places her head on Jan’s chest and feels the woman’s shallow breaths in the rise and fall of her chest. She removes her head and looks into the blonde’s ocean blue eyes with a sigh, dropping the hand she’s been holding and wrapping both arms loosely around Jan’s neck.

“Do you know why I believe in love?” Jan asks suddenly. But it’s not sudden, not really, it’s built on layers and layers of coffee dates and mugs and purple glitter pens. Her eyes flick from Jackie’s brown ones down to her lips and back up a couple of times before she answers herself, watching the way Jackie looks completely at ease in her arms.

“You,” she mumbles.

And then they’re kissing and it’s soft but it’s passionate and it tells Jackie everything she needs to know about the way she makes Jan feel. It doesn’t last long, Jackie pulling away before they can scar any small children, but the look in Jan’s eyes is as pure and loving as Jackie has ever seen.

“You did it, Jaqueline,” Jan mutters into her ear, pulling her closer still until they are essentially hugging while moving in a slow circle. “You fucking did it.”

Jackie giggles and presses a kiss to Jan’s nose, having to rise up on her toes to do so, “you planning the divorce yet?” She jokes and Jan rolls her eyes playfully.

“Not a fucking chance.”

*

15:37

What wine did you want again baby?

15:40

Just pick up that red we always get

If you’re late for our own damn engagement party Janet I’m divorcing you.

15:45

I’m on my way babe. I have the wine. Calm down.

*

They’re calling it an engagement party but really it’s their closest friends sitting in their living room petting Marceline and drinking wine. They’re celebrating something everyone knew was coming and eating tortilla chips while they do it.

“Welcome to the engage-Jan-t party!” Jan announces to Jackie, Nicky, Rose and Bob as she walks through the door only five minutes early. They’re very lucky most of the group is usually late and Jackie only reminds her of that by raising both eyebrows at the pun and swiftly opening the wine to try and pretend she’s not stressed.

“What have we got?” Jan asks softly, pressing a chaste kiss to her fiance’s cheek as she peruses the alcohol selection. Nicky turns around on the sofa and winks.

“I’ve brought some rosé,” she jokes and Rose hits her before asking for a glass of wine to take the edge of her wife’s stupidity. Bob calls them all dykes before heading to the bathroom to ask her partner when they’ll get here.

Katya and (a very pregnant) Trixie are the last to show up, Rock and Bob’s partner Jinkx turning up only a few minutes earlier.

“Rosé?” Nicky offers Jinkx and they smirk before shaking their head.

“If it’s your wife, no thank you,” they joke and Jan high fives them with a grin.

They end up spending the evening on Jan’s extortionately large couch eating nachos and questioning how Jackie managed to get Jan to fall in love with her.

Jackie smiles coyly and tilts her head, bumping Jan’s shoulder with her own.

“It all started at a wedding…”

[wellexecuted]

some off the bat study tips I use

Been “not in the mood” for a good couple of weeks now. Here are some study tips I use, in the hopes that I’ll somehow kickstart my own system. 

1) Keep a whiteboard above your workspace. Often as a student you’re working on multiple things at once- there’s nothing worse than trying to get one task done when there’s another lingering in the back of your mind. Having a whiteboard means I can just look up, scrawl the task down on the board so it’s out in the world. The act of doing so means you can push it out of your mind now it’s truly Out There, and can resume the (probably equally important) task at hand. 

2) As a college/ uni student, ruthlessly prioritise your time. you know whether that crusty 9 am is worth the commute. As a city commuter student, my Wednesday morning lecture is the only class I have all day, and the recording is posted online: hardly worth the two hour commute. I use the time I’d have spent standing in rush hour, sitting in class and then heading back to the station to get a head start on my reading, go to the gym, walk my dog and watch it back in the evening at my own pace. 

3) That being said, don’t skip for the sake of skipping. Be mindful what you skip, and when you skip- it’s a useful, albeit limited, tool very easily misused. I rely on my economic history seminar to understand what the fuck is going on in the assigned readings. It isn’t pre- recorded and it takes my prof eeeeons to upload the powerpoint online: so you can bet I am there, without fail, every week, even though it often kills me to leave my warm house and get on that train. 

4) Change up your environment. Study with your boyfriend in your favourite coffee shop. Study curled up in your living room with the telly on. Study in the pub with a pint on a quiet weekday. Study on the train. Do away with the idea that you’ve got to be sitting at your desk, facing your wall, in your bedroom for the material to sink in. There is so much joy in casual academia. Make space for it without letting it consume you. 

5) Try and immerse yourself in your subject. Enjoy the content you are reading. Treat your work, where you can, as more than something to check off a list. This one is particularly for those in tertiary education: let yourself fall in love with your specialist subject. 

6) Read, and watch, around your subject. As I stressed with 4, you are paying for the privilege of immersion. 

7) Exercise regularly, particularly during stressful academic periods. If you’re anything like me, sometimes this can be your only true escape from studying. Allow yourself an active hour, “switch off” your brain and get sweaty. 

8) Find your “thing”. By “thing”, I mean the method of working that pains you the least, and allows you to engage with the material the most. For me, it’s watching content- I’m a visual and auditory learner, so the act of transcribing from videos and documentaries allows me to engage with the material sufficiently and easily without becoming overwhelmed. For instance, I’m currently preparing a short presentation on the Mughal Empire: my first point of call alongside the recommended readings was the corresponding Crash Course video. If you’re anything like me, Crash Course is most certainly your friend. 

9) Plan small. Don’t write out great swathes of work to muddle through in a day. Set yourself a few core tasks at the beginning of the day, and when these are done, set yourself some more. Working like this means you don’t become lost in huge, epic- style lists and are probably more productive. 

10) Organise your space. Nothing is more shit than sitting in a badly lit room, cramped amongst piles of paper and unsure where to start. We’re funny things- we respond intrinsically to our environments. So do yourself a favour, and take a good ten or twenty minutes to “set up”. Clean your space, put your things in your binder or organise your files on your desktop, plan your session in your diary and make yourself a cup of something before you begin. 

11) Let your phone die, or turn it off. You can have the restraint of a living saint, and still allow yourself that two minutes/ four hours scrolling. The best thing you can do is eliminate the distraction completely. 

I desperately need to take my own advice :))))

[jameigo]

#2 Peep the desk setup!

23/10/2020

Hello all! Updates!

Whilst time did slip past me faster than I was expecting, do not fear because my second post is here!

I’m sure anyone seeking inspiration, is in the studyblr community or interested in organisation wants to know more about my desk (pictured) than what I was actually up to and so we’ll get to that first.

Desk:

The desk itself was from the British department store John Lewis although I’m not sure if they sell this exact colour anymore. I love it because of all the cubby holes and best of all, the workspace slides in and out, like a bureau (that took a while to spell) meaning it’s perfect for either just placing my laptop on or pulling all the way out if I have a lot of papers or I’m doing my scrapbook for example. Most crucial of all is that it’s *space saving* which is really useful when not in use. I shall now list the cubby hole uses:

I have one cubby to keep important papers that I need now (before getting filed) and information I may need to access quickly.

I have a space dedicated to my letter opener, a box of scrapbook stuff (basically clutter lol) and my tape dispenser furthest away from me when I sit because that’s the stuff I use least often.

My top middle one is dedicated to my pencil case (from Wouf in case anyone is also a big cat fanatic or just interested), easy access random paper to jot down things, thoughts or ideas, and my post it note holder, with a stapler behind.

In the drawer I keep said things, thoughts and ideas, scissors and memory sticks.

The top left includes my 5 year prompt journal that is very behind and normally my to-do list pad which is currently sat on the desk.

Below that I have where my laptop wire comes out from as well as a play we’re studying in uni and highlighters need, although these would normally be in my pencil case. This is pretty minimal for me, and I have more supplies I use less often as well as stationary in other places off to the side.

Above my desk I just have some aesthetically pleasing ornaments and a plant I recently bought, although that’s not the best photo of it. If anyone’s interested in a plant tour post then do let me know as I have a lot. I have the Newton’s cradle simply because it’s essential for every desk (*cough cough* it’s not), a big cat sculpture ornament, my secondary phone/watch charging station, a space where there used to be a plant but I moved it, and of course my lamp. It’s one of those flexible ones from IKEA.

What I got up to:

Essentially in this photo I was annotating a short script by one of my classmates. I did basic annotations and then followed up with a lot more detail in an email sent to them. I am using my iPad Pro (not the latest one) and writing my annotations with the Apple Pencil as I feel, and have been told, it’s more personal which I think is a nice touch.

My to-do list is sat to the side and that’s pretty self-exclamatory lol.

I’ve also been working towards my dissertation proposal (not pictured) and that’s coming along nicely. It’s due next week as a formative requirement i.e not graded, to essentially confirm a working title, methodology, why we chose our topic and aims so we can be paired with a supervisor familiar, or best suited for, our topic (we can but hope).

If you’ve read this far, then I applaud you. Bonus tidbit of info: the fact I was studying in the day time is a bit of a shocker. I normally prefer to work in the evening.

If anyone has any questions or just wants to have a chat then feel free to message me!

[crystaljins]

Take a chance. | 02

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 7.3K

Synopsis:   You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

Hanahaki!au

Notes: The first three parts of this fic went through at least three different drafts. I changed the approach and character features so many times that this story isn’t even recognisable from the initial draft. But, once I added ma boi Kim Seokjin, this story finally hit a place that I felt I could happily write. 

Warnings: Angst. Graphic depictions of vomiting. Mentions of illness and death.

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” The man says as he slides into his seat. He’s wearing dark sunglasses that obscure most of his face and a black bucket hat is pulled low over his brows. Perhaps he is trying to be inconspicuous, but the large trench coat and obvious attempt to conceal his identity just make him seem more suspicious. Not only that, the price tags hanging off his outfit clearly show that he’d only just bought them.

“What are you doing, Jin? Why’d you call me out here?” Seri hisses. She pauses to smile warmly at the waiter who hands her an ice latte topped with perhaps more whipped cream than is strictly necessary before turning back to her obnoxious co-worker. “Why are you dressed… like that?”

“So that I don’t attract attention to myself. Obviously.” Jin scolds. He leans forward to sniff suspiciously at his milkshake before reaching into a pocket in his trench coat and pulling out a large swirly straw. It’s infuriatingly childish. He glances side to side before placing it in his glass and taking a long sip.

“I’m going home.” Seri snaps, making to get up, but an arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be serious.” He promises, even as he takes another sip from the milkshake through the ridiculous straw. He does remove his sunglasses, though. “This is a matter that concerns not just you and me, but Jungkook and our… beloved… boss.” He begins to tear up at the final person on the list, and dabs awkwardly at the corner of his eyes. “We have to help her.”

“Help her what?” Seri questions, attention grabbed. Where her boss is involved, she is all ears. After all, you had given her a job when she’d been unemployed and desperate. And she’s determined to pay that back by being the best employee she could possibly be.

“Help her with her illness.” He confesses gravely. Seri’s eyes go wide as her mind scans through the long list of illnesses her beloved boss could possibly be suffering from. “She’s suffering from Hanahaki.”

The deathly silence that follows is testament to how much both workers care for their boss. The colour drains from Seri’s face while Jin looks down and another tear trails down his face.

“How… how can you be sure?” Seri breathes. Jin shakes his head gravely.

“Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I lost that bet and had to take garbage out for a week?” Jin asks. Seri nods contemplatively as she remembers the event in question.

“You bet you could down 2 L of milk in one go but ended up spraying it out your nose all over Jungkook’s desk.” She recalls. He nods gravely.

“Well, I kind of tripped when I was getting close to the garbage and the whole garbage bag split open.” He explains. He pauses mid-explanation to take another unnecessarily long sip of his milkshake, one that has Seri twitching in dread and anticipation as she waits for him to finish his story. “And there were these red rose petals everywhere.”

Seri nods, but then frowns.

“But what does that have to do with (Y/N)? We sometimes get petals in or bouquets as samples for future decorations and two weeks ago she was doing that red themed wedding.” Seri points out. Jin nods solemnly.

“Well that’s why I didn’t think anything of it at the time. It wasn’t until yesterday, when (Y/N) brought up Hanahaki and was super shifty and blatantly lying about why it was on her mind that I got suspicious.” Jin admits. “So that night I went home and rang her brother, because he’s actually a doctor who specialises in treating Hanahaki. Just to ask some questions, but he was surprised and thought that maybe someone from our office was suffering from it, because (Y/N) had rung him too,asking about it right before me.”

“That is very suspicious.” Seri admits, and the evidence is starting to stack up. But there’s one vital piece of information she needs to believe Jin. “But who is she in love with, that doesn’t love her back? And how can we help her?”

Jin smiles widely and leans back in his chair.

“I was hoping you’d ask me that, dear, sweet, naïve Seri.” He tells her warmly, and all traces of his earlier tears have vanished from his face. “It’s none other than our resident space cadet, Jeon Jungkook.” He announces with all the dramatic flair of an actor presenting Best Picture at the Oscars. Seri grimaces.

“Jungkook?” She questions incredulously. Up until that point, Jin’s theory had sounded plausible but now it just sounds ridiculous. “You think she’s in love with Jungkook? The same guy I caught trying to sneak in a new printer without her noticing last week because he spilt banana milk on the old one?”

Jin nods, as if it is the most logical and reasonable conclusion to draw in the world.

“Well, not to be presumptuous, but yes. Can you think of anyone else? Also, haven’t you always been suspicious of the fact that they literally built a business from the ground up together and yet there’s nothing there?” Jin points out. Seri seems surprised.

“Why would starting a business together mean there has to be something romantic between them?” She responds. Jin looks mildly astonished before understanding sets in his expression.

“Ah, I forgot you’ve only been here a couple of months. Yes, Jungkook and (Y/N) started this business together. It was probably like… five years ago? They’d been running for about two years when that video of that wedding she organised went viral and then they hired me to handle the extra clientele that came in, so that sounds about right.” Jin says, launching into an explanation. “But their whole story is fresh out of a romcom- (Y/N) met him after her fiancée dumped her for dropping out of some sort of prestigious uni degree or something at some bar and he had some sad backstory as well that I can’t remember and encouraged her to follow her dreams. And then he ran into her again and helped her get her first client and then after two years of struggling to make ends meet that video went viral and here we are today, successful and happy. How can there be nothing after all of that?” He explains. Seri wrinkles her nose- despite her short amount of time working at this firm, she knows enough of the story to know Jin is butchering the story a lot.

What had actually happened, was that you taken a year off law school when your mother’s health had started to decline. Your brother had been forced to financially support the two of you by working ludicrous hours while you cared for her physical needs. Your fiancée, unable to cope with the emotional strain such an event had put on the relationship, coupled with the lack of time that came with caring for a sick relative, had left you. In the end, you had wound up working at a bar and unable to bring yourself to go back to law school after your mother passed away. The very same bar that Jungkook happened to frequent. After confiding in the sad, unemployed drunk boy you thought wasn’t listening over a period of time about your heartbreak and your desire to go into wedding planning instead of law school, it turned out he had been listening. Not only that, but he had a proposal for you- he, a business major, and you, a wedding planner, could start a business together. That way you wouldn’t have to go back to law school, and he would no longer be unemployed and nearly homeless. At least, that’s what she’d been able to glean from snippets of conversation she’s had with the both of you over the past couple of months.

Still, even though his story is still warped the original point still stands: Jungkook is clearly someone who matters to you, a lot. Yes, it was the video that went viral that made your business successful but you wouldn’t have even started this business without Jungkook. Jin makes a compelling argument- the coincidental timing of your chosen conversation topic the day before, and Jin happening to find the rose petals… it is all very shifty. Even Seri has to admit that.

But Jin isn’t done, and his next piece of evidence is perhaps the nail in the coffin.

“And she asked me this morning to start preparing a job ad for a new assistant. She said Jeon Jungkook is officially taking leave as of today- that’s why he didn’t show up and why we were flat out all day.” Jin points out urgently. “And I left my wallet in my car this morning and just so happened to be ducking down to get it, when I saw Jungkook’s car pulling out of the building. Which means he came in to work today! And when I watched the CCTV footage to check-“

“Woah, woah, woah, Jin!” Seri cuts him off in protest. “We aren’t criminal detectives! You can’t just watch CCTV footage of your boss because you want to-“

“That’s not important. What’s important is they had some sort of fight this morning and clearly, it’s because (Y/N) is in love with Jungkook, is dying of Hanahaki and we need to make Jungkook fall for her or we could lose our jobs. And the nicest boss anyone has ever had.” He exclaims, almost out of breath from his rant. Seri blinks. She wants to disagree. She really does. She wants to write Jin off as crazy and perhaps report him to you.

But… what if he’s right? What if you’re dying because your airheaded assistant doesn’t reciprocate your feelings? If he’s right, then they have to help you! She bites her lip contemplatively.

“Why can’t she just get treatment? We could sit her down and encourage her to see a doctor- isn’t her brother a leading specialist in the disease?” Seri points out. Jin shoots her a look like she’s just made the stupidest suggestion in the world.

“Don’t you know what treatment involves? It makes you forget the person who gave you Hanahaki forever. If she forgot Jungkook how can they run this business together?” He cries out. Seri is pretty sure she read something somewhere, back when she was researching the disease for herself that said that the ‘forget your love’ aspect of Hanahaki is just an urbanised myth and only the most severe cases of Hanahaki that have gone untreated for years require such dramatic action, and even those have been able to be successfully treated with just therapy in certain patients, but Jin sounds so convinced and sure of his words that it makes her doubt herself.

“What... what would you have us do?” She asks, rather than contradict what he just said. She cringes as she says the words because she knows she may regret this strongly depending on what Jin asks.

He merely grins.

“I’m glad you asked, dear Seri, because I already have a mastermind plan in place…”

++

“Yes, I understand that you want all black for your decorations,” You say, desperately clinging on to your patience. “But black roses aren’t really a thing. If you just agreed to the black baccara roses-“

“They’re still red.” Your client on the other end of the phone sniffs. “I want black.”

“Then having them painted is your best option.” You retort. “I told you I’d do my best to give you the wedding of your dreams but I’m not a miracle worker- you can’t grow black roses!”

“Please? It’s really important to us.” He begs. You dig your fingers into the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“I’ll see if I can speak to some plant breeders and see if we can get something closer to black.” You say with a sigh. “That’s the best I can do.”

You don’t hear whatever he says because you are distracted by the presence of Jungkook leaning awkwardly against the door to your apartment. When he spots you, his whole face lights up and he straightens. You wince as he waves enthusiastically. He’s not in his usual crumpled suit- instead he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of trackpants and he hasn’t even attempted to tame his wild mop of hair. Oddly, he looks amazing in the casual, comfortable look he’s going for.

“You’re here!” He greets. You watch him cautiously like he is a furious bull that may charge at any moment.

“It’s my apartment. Where else would I go?” You point out. “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

He nods sheepishly.

“Well… I did take the day off.” He admits. “But I thought you might have had a long day without me, what with no one to replace the vital work that I do, so I brought some supplies.”

You stiffen. You have had a long day, and that is to be expected when you force your business partner to take an unplanned leave.  To be honest, you aren’t even sure what half of Jungkook’s duties are. You’ve just always done your thing, talking to clients, make plans, connecting with people, and then at the end you’d have money in your bank account. Jungkook has always handled your marketing and connecting clients and managing appointments while keeping the office running smoothly. Without him, you’d had to answer phones, contact the accountant and fill out complex paperwork between and in the middle of appointments with. Seokjin and Seri had done their best to share the load but even they’d felt the strain by the end of the day.

“I’m not changing my mind, if that’s why you’re here.” You sniff, stepping passed him to unlock the door. He presses in close and follows you into your apartment even though he is not welcome. He looks around curiously as soon as he steps passed the threshold of your home.

“This is a really lovely place.” He compliments sincerely- it should be surprising that this is the first time he’s ever step foot in your apartment considering the fact that you’ve been running a business with him for five years now. Even Seri, who has only been working with you for a couple of months, has visited your home before. But before this whole wedding debacle, Jungkook had always refused. He sidles past you and sets a plastic bag up on the countertop in your kitchen. He glances back at you before rummaging inside. “I realised I have no idea what you like to eat, so I read that interview you did with that bridal magazine a few months ago.” He says, and then he pulls out a block of chocolate, some grapes and a bottle of wine. You squint suspiciously at them.

“Jungkook…” You say slowly, about to ask him to leave your home and take the food with them. Yes, they were all guilty pleasures of yours, but you weren’t about to give him false hope that you would rescind your decision. “I’m not going to plan the wedding.” Is what you say instead.

He ignores you, turning to a cupboard and pulling out two wine glasses. He sets them on the counter and immediately begins pouring out the wine. Then he leans against the countertop beside you and sighs heavily, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Why?” He finally asks. He takes a long sip of his own glass, sliding yours toward you. Hesitantly, you accept and settle into a stool next to the counter. “It’s not going to stop the wedding. It’s not going to cure me. And I’ll still be involved in the wedding whether you plan it or not. What do you think you’re achieving by refusing?”

You stare down at the ruby liquid in the glass- your distorted reflection glares back. He’s right. You’re not achieving anything. You’re just sticking your head in the sand and pretending Jungkook’s situation isn’t happening until it magically fixes itself. But that’s all you really can do, right? You can’t force him to get treatment and you can’t make his best friend love him back. These are all doubts that plague you, but if you are anything, it is stubborn. Your blood runs hot with anger at the way he’s trying to pressure you into something you’ve already decided not to do.

“Why are you so desperate for me to plan this wedding anyway?” You question, hopping off the stool and edging closer until he is pressed against the kitchen counter. At this proximity you can count each of his individual lashes and feel the way his breath has become shallower and hesitant. It’s out of anger that you press closer. You’re trying to intimidate him into backing off and leaving you to deal with the consequences of your decision in peace. His eyes flash at the challenge though.

“Why are you so determined to refuse?” He retorts. “Up until the engagement party, you were all for planning this wedding! What, suddenly things get a teensy bit more complicated and you’re out?”

“Finding out my business partner is dying from a curable illness is not a “teensy bit more complicated”, Jungkook!” You cry, the volume of your voice escalating. Any louder and your neighbours will probably call the cops on you. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously!” Jungkook shouts. It’s the first time in all the years that you’ve known him that you’ve ever seen him lose his temper. His whole face goes bright red and the tendons in his neck strain with the force of his shout. “That’s all I’ve been doing! Every, single, damn day, all I can think about is how hard this is! You think I want to be sick? You think I want to be here, begging my boss to plan the wedding for the girl that I love? Why do you have to fight me at every single step- why can’t you just do me this one favour? All I’m asking you to do is to plan a wedding for a friend and turn a blind eye when you see I’m having a hard time- is that so hard to do?”

“Yes.” You breathe, and your eyes have watered and filled with tears at his words. “I don’t want to have to watch your heart break.” You finally admit. Because that’s the real reason. You can’t stop the fast approaching train-wreck that Jungkook has managed to lock himself into. But you sure as hell don’t have to watch it happen. “I don’t want to watch you slowly die.”

Your admission is met with silence and when you shoot a glance at Jungkook, he’s staring at you like you’ve grown a third eye. Abruptly he breaks eye contact and his shoulders hunch.

“Let me come back to work.” He says in a small voice. “I know you think you’re helping me, but you’re just leaving me at home alone with nothing to dwell on but the fact that I’m ill and…” His voice cracks. “That she…” He whirls around so that he’s no longer facing you and is unable to finish his sentence. He changes the subject. “Wow, I didn’t know my boss was so heartless,” He tries to joke, his tone falsely light, but his voice is still slightly shaky. “5 years together and you give me the axe just because I’m a little sick.” He shakes his head and makes a “tsk” sound. “Success has really changed you, (Y/N).”

You recognise now, that his attempt to joke around is his way of hiding, so you aren’t offended. Instead, getting slowly to your feet, you pack everything into the bag he brought with him and walk around the kitchen counter so that you’re facing him. He winces and looks towards the ceiling, perhaps to conceal the way his eyes are wet with tears and red-rimmed. Gently, you take his hand and place the handles of the plastic bag in it, wrapping his fingers around them.

“Jungkook.” You say softly. “I’m not doing this because I thought this would easy or because I don’t like you or because I think your job is replaceable or because I’m trying to punish you. I’m not doing it to make your life difficult. You’re sick, Jungkook, and sick people need rest.”

He stares at you with bewildered, pleading eyes. It is an exact repeat of earlier that morning when you had told him to take time off.

“There are other wedding planners.” You tell him gently. “She’ll live even if I don’t plan it for her.”

He stares down at the bag in his hand.

“But what if I… if she really wants you to do it?” He asks, even as he lets you guide him gently out the door. You don’t notice his slip.

“Well sometimes we don’t always get what we want Jungkook. But as your boss it’s my job to make sure you get what you need. And what you need is some time off.” You say. He seems to register he’s fighting a losing battle as the door swings shut- his hand flies out before you can fully close it.

“What would it take?” He pleads. “Hypothetically. If you could have anything in the world, what would it take for you to do this?”

You grimace.

“For you not to be sick.”

++

For all your bravado over forcing Jungkook to take leave, it really does make your life infinitely harder. Jungkook is a scatter-brain prone to double booking appointments and breaking expensive electronics, but his job really is irreplaceable- he hasn’t just been an assistant, or receptionist. His job was never as simple as answering phones and calling in the technician when he broke the printer yet again. He also managed the entire business side of things- from organising how much clients would pay for your services, to drafting contracts with them, to the entire marketing side of things, it had always been him to deal with that sort of thing. And it had been stupid and arrogant of you to think you could handle your regular duties on top of his. In your head, you had planned to look for a temporary replacement to work for maybe a year while Jungkook sorted himself out, but you barely have time for your own job, let alone searching for a replacement and training them up on top of managing Jungkook’s duties in the mean time. You’ve really screwed yourself over with such a hasty decision.

Your employees are quick to vocally and aggressively remind you of what a mistake it is to have put Jungkook on leave.

“My keyboard still doesn’t work.” Jin sniffs at you in the kitchenette, repeatedly dunking a bag of chamomile tea aggressively into a mug of boiling water. “I thought you said you were looking into fixing that! I can’t type anything and I’ve had two brides organising a wedding and a mother organising a first birthday party call me in tears because I didn’t answer their emails.”

“Well, you didn’t have to spill orange juice on it now, did you?” You almost snarl- you find your temper becoming shorter and shorter the more stressed and tired you are. It’s getting to the point that you’re hardly getting any sleep at night because you’re essentially doing two full time jobs at once. Jin’s eyebrows fly up, seeming to sense that you’re on the verge of snapping at him, and holds two hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I’m sorry- It was an accident. But it’s really very urgent.” He tells you, and he sounds apologetic enough that you take a deep breath to release the tension built up in your shoulders and neck.

“I know. I’m sorry for getting short with you- I am trying to sort it out. I just have a lot on my plate at the moment.” You admit, and you feel on the verge of tears. Jin’s expression softens at your wobbly tone and he comes to stand next to you, resting against the kitchenette counter.

“Maybe we should give Jungkook a call.” He suggests gently. You tense, about to scold him for such a suggestion, but he holds up a firm hand. “I don’t know what happened or why you put him on leave, but you’re really struggling. If he does need the leave, then at least keep him around until you find a proper replacement- doing two jobs at once like this isn’t sustainable.” He points out. You wince because if it weren’t for your own stubbornness, you probably would have done as much. But you can’t- your pride won’t let you. You’ve decided that Jungkook needs leave and so he’s getting leave. Even if it kills you in the process.

Jin isn’t the only one- later in the week Seri knocks on your door. She strides in without waiting for an answer and leans in close so the two clients across from you don’t hear what she says.

“I just got a call from the bank- apparently there was an issue with billing that florist we contracted. I took down their number for you to ring them when you’re done with your client.” She informs you, flicking a gaze at the two clients before you.

Her interruption, though bearing bad news, is welcome- she’s interrupted two clients on the verge of screeching at you in rage. There was a mix-up with the venue bookings that you forgot to sort out between the flurry of phone calls you’ve been heckled with all day and they are not pleased. You’re barely holding back frustrated tears while Seri watches on, uncertain how to handle the situation. You take a deep breath, summoning all the professionalism you can access and smile at her.

“I will have that sorted after I deal with these two clie-“ You begin, but they cut you off.

“Don’t bother!” The one on the right, a woman in her late thirties’, snarls. She’s clinging to her fiancé’s arm like a hole might open up beneath her and demons appear to drag her to the depths of hell if she lets go. “We came here because we’ve heard so many good things about your service, but clearly it was all just good marketing- we won’t be coming back.”

She gets abruptly to her feet and storms off, dragging her balding fiancé with her. You take a shaky breath and squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to come.

“Perhaps… I should call Jungkook? He’s really good with this kind of thing.” Seri suggests, and it’s so not the suggestion you need right now.

“Don’t.” You say. “My afternoon appointment just cancelled as you just saw- I’m free to speak with the bank right now.”

Your week carries on like that. You’re at your wits end by the time Friday comes around. You’ve promised yourself that you won’t do anything related to work for the entire afternoon. You’re going to ignore all the deadlines. Your business won’t crumble just because you took a Friday afternoon off, after all. At least that’s what you tell yourself as you take on your final task of the day- carrying a heavy box of fragile but expensive glasses that a client ordered in for clients to drink out of during their reception. You stagger as evenly as you can into the elevator and that’s when it happens- your heel snaps. It’s not a particularly high heel- just high enough that your ankle twists beneath you as it gives. You cry out, bracing yourself to crash to the floor and for the delicate goods you are carrying to shatter.

Only, it never comes. As you crumple to the ground, the weight of the box abruptly vanishes from your arms. Instead it is just you that hits the floor of the elevator with a pained grunt. Confused, you look up to find someone has grabbed the box from your arms before it could hit the floor with you and shatter all the contents inside.

“Are you ok?” Jungkook cries, gently setting down the box and crouching down before you. You’re so shocked that you are speechless. His large glasses are slightly lopsided on his face and he’s wearing a t shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. He’s not wearing the business attire that is required of all your employees- instead he’s dressed casually, like he didn’t plan on coming into the office today.

“W-what are you doing here?” You finally find your voice as he helps you to your feet. You wince as you attempt to press your weight into the foot with the broken heel and crumple back down- no doubt you sprained it on your way down. Jungkook’s eyes are wide with concern.

“Jin called me in for something urgent-“ He explains but he’s too distracted by your injury to provide the full story. “Did you hurt yourself?” He questions. You glance down at your leg- you move your ankle and wince when you find it too painful to rotate.

“Probably just a sprain.” You explain and he nods.

“I’ll help you, then,” He says quickly. “There’s a first aid kit in my office- or there was, if you haven’t cleaned it out yet.”

“Thank you.” You say quietly. “I haven’t touched your things. But you really shouldn’t be here-“

Your words are interrupted by the sudden flashing of the light in the elevator and a screeching noise.

The elevator is stuck.

++

“That’s your mastermind plan to help (Y/N)? Trapping them in an elevator together?” Seri sniffs, as she realises what Jin has done, watching Jungkook and her boss through the small security camera. They remain crouched down, close to the ground and she can’t see their expressions. “What if they get hurt?”

“Clearly you’ve never watched any kind of romcom ever, Seri.” Jin tuts. “This is a basic strategy- and this is just us getting started! Phase one! We just need to force them into the same space and hopefully the confined space will lead to them opening up! Besides, don’t act so surprised- there’s much more work we have to do than this before Jungkook-”

“Why did you agree to this?” She interrupts, directing her question to the elevator technician who has unscrewed the control panel and is fidgeting with the wires. He pauses, resting a hand on his chin as he contemplates the answer.

“For love.” He answers fondly. “But also, Seokjin here paid me $50 if I made sure they were trapped in an elevator together for the next twenty minutes.”

Seri whirls on Jin, the expression on her face utterly despairing.

“What… what else do you have planned?” She asks incredulously, pale and concerned for the wellbeing of not only her boss, but Jungkook as well. Jin considers her question for a moment, before shrugging.

“It’s a surprise.” He answers with a grin.

++

“How’s your ankle?” Jungkook asks awkwardly. For the past five minutes after ringing for help with the emergency button and being assured that the elevator technician was already working on it, the two of you had been sitting in a deathly silence. With Jungkook’s help, you had manoeuvred so that you now lean against the wall of the elevator, your sprained ankle stretched out in front of you. Your broken, useless heels are discarded in the corner. Your eyes are shut so that you don’t have to acknowledge his presence and can feign sleeping.

“The same as it was 5 minutes ago.” You answer, without opening your eyes. “Swollen. Painful. Will probably be better in a few days.”

You hear a tapping sound and know that Jungkook is probably bouncing his knee up and down. He has a lot of restless energy and a lot of pens have been dismantled at his desk from his fidgeting and a lot of office chairs have met their end because he’s constantly rocking back and forth. It’s a good indicator for when he’s about to strike up conversation- the noise stops, and he inhales like he’s formulating a question.

“How’s the office been?” He asks. “Without me? Is everyone coping alright?”

Not really. But you’re not about to tell him that.

“They’re fine. The others are urging me to find a replacement and I’m sure we’ll find one soon.” You say. Your sentences are clipped, and your tone isn’t unfriendly, but it isn’t exactly warm either. You’re trying to discourage conversation because if Jungkook inquires more into how your week played out, you may burst into tears. The last thing you want is for him to know what a hard time you are having without him.

He starts to whistle tunelessly, and the sound is annoying, but you don’t want to talk to him. At least he’s stopped asking you questions.

For about thirty seconds.

“What was in the box?” He asks. You open one eye to peer at him. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of you with his back slouched. He picks absently at his worn shoelaces on his crappy, frayed sneakers.

“Glasses. For a wedding I’m planning.” You say. He perks up at the mention of your business.

“Is this the couple who met at the Venetian Glass Blowing Factory?” He asks cheerfully. “I thought you didn’t have time to plan their wedding. How did you squeeze them in?”

You tense- you rang them up and offered your services since a lot of clients have cancelled on you this week following your subpar performance.

“I’ve had a few slots in my schedule clear up.” You admit through gritted teeth. Jungkook looks confused but then his eyes go round when he realises what you mean.

“Oh… that bad, huh?” He asks. He winces. “Not that I’m implying you’re bad! I just didn’t think people would cancel so quickly when-”

“When what, Jungkook?” You snap, patience lost. “When I’m essentially working two jobs? When I’ve been yelled at 32 times this week? When I’ve been getting approximately 4 hours sleep every night trying to organise all these events in between doing your job?”

“Well I didn’t ask to be on leave!” He retorts defensively. His eyebrows furrow together and his lips purse in a slight pout. “You’re the one who insisted I was unfit to work.”

“I know.” You snarl, and to your mortification, frustrated tears fill your eyes and blur your view of him. “I know I made you take leave! I know that everyone wants you back and this office is going insane without you!”

Jungkook’s jaw drops at your outburst but doesn’t interrupt as you continue your rant.

“I know your job is important and that it was going to be hard without you, but I was doing it for you! I wasn’t trying to fire you or spite you or punish you for being sick! I was only trying to help.” You’re full on sobbing now, but you’re so exhausted and emotional and the repressed emotions you’ve been pushing back for the past week are all bursting forth. “Is that so bad? Is it so terrible that I just wanted to look after my business partner? Why am I getting punished for doing the right thing?” You’re in full hysterics as Jungkook starts to panic, realising that he has no idea how to comfort you or calm you down.

“D-don’t cry!” He protests but it’s too late- it’s like a dam has been broken. All the stress, all the misery, all the overtime work has combined, and you feel like there’s an angry tornado of lava where your heart should be. “I know you were trying to help, and I’m really grateful for that- please don’t cry!”

He edges closer to you and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles for resting them awkwardly on your shoulders. You stare up at him with teary eyes. You’re not a pretty crier by any definition- your eyes have gone puffy and your nose is running and were it any other situation he would have laughed at you. But he has at least enough sensitivity to know laughing at you now would be kicking you when you’re down. Instead he offers you an awkward smile, one that is little more than his cheeks raising and him baring his teeth in an almost-snarl.

You’re so confused at his peculiar expression that you actually stop sobbing. You squint at him for a moment, before a tear-y laugh breaks through your lips.

“What are you doing?” You ask, taking the lapse in your hysterics as an opportunity to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. His expression softens.

“I’m smiling at you.” He explains. You snort incredulously.

“You look like you’re in pain.” You say. He chuckles awkwardly.

“Hey! I’m trying to make you feel better!” He protests jokingly, relieved that you’re at least no longer crying. You frown.

“By showing me what face you make when you’re constipated?” You suggest and he actually laughs.

“I mean, since that’s what stopped you crying, I’ll take it.” He volunteers. He takes his hands off your shoulders and slumps next to you, being mindful of your injured leg. “Hey.”

You turn to look at him.

“Hi.” You answer. His expression is warm and gentle as he volunteers his next words.

“I never thanked you.” He admits. “For caring so much. Enough to keep it a secret.” He confesses. “And for putting me on leave. I know… I know you were trying to help, and it feels good to know that you’ve got my back like that. So, thank you. So much.”

At his words, an odd, warm sensation blooms in your chest. This whole week all you’ve felt is stressed and guilty, questioning your decision and worrying about Jungkook’s health. But Jungkook’s gratitude is liberating- you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. He turns so that he’s staring straight into your eyes.

“And I know that you were only trying to help, and I’m really thankful for that but…” He trails away awkwardly and glances downwards. “But it wasn’t your call to make.” He admits. “I know you mean well, but it’s my decision on whether to get treatment, or whether to keep working, or whether or not to be involved with this wedding. You shouldn’t have taken that choice from me.”  

The truth of his words hits you like a bag of bricks and leaves you momentarily speechless. Because he has a point- even acting with his best interests in mind, he’s your co-worker. Not your friend or your family or your lover. He’s your equal business partner, capable of making adult decisions for himself. And by forcing him to go on leave, you took that choice away from him.

“As for the wedding… I won’t force you to do it or keep pestering you about it. I should have stopped when you first said no and respected that. That was wrong of me.” He says. “To be honest, I kept visiting you because I thought I could convince you. I didn’t even care how you were doing or whether you were coping- I just made all these excuses to see you so that I could convince you. And I realise now that’s a really awful way to be. You’re not just my boss or a machine that churns out people’s dream weddings. You’re a person who cares a lot about everyone she meets and I’m sorry for not recognising that.” He tells you. His cheeks are tinted slightly pink at his heartfelt confession, and your own cheeks burn too for some reason.

“The truth is… the truth is that Minah doesn’t want you to plan her wedding this much. Yeah, she liked that video of that wedding you did, but if I’d told her you said no, she would have just found someone else. It was me that was being insistent because I wanted someone on my side. You saw how I almost exposed myself at her engagement party… I felt like bringing another wedding planner into the mix is just one more person I have to hide from.” He slumps against the elevator wall and you take notice of the dark circles under his eyes, of his pale skin and his gaunt face… He’s lost even more weight since you made him take leave- earlier he was skinny but still looked healthy. Now he looks ashy and uncomfortable. At this rate he will wither away into nothing but skin and bones. Your heart aches for him again. “But when you found me… when you helped me and you didn’t tell anyone… I felt like I wasn’t alone for the first time in nearly a year. For the first time since Minah started dating Taehyung, probably. And I liked that feeling- I liked the idea of someone like you having my back. Someone who was strong and so determined that she literally built a business from the ground up, and you always call me your partner but really it was all you. And this whole thing with Minah has been so… hard. I thought… ‘maybe I could do it if she had my back.’” He squeezes his eyes shut and you notice the way a tear trickles down his cheek. His glasses nearly hide it but you’re watching him so carefully that you pick up on it.

“I’ll do it.” You don’t even realise you’ve said the words until he’s staring at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“What?” He asks. “Say that again?”

You blink, startled by your own compliance, but then you steel your gaze and make your decision.

“My brother’s a doctor who specialises in Hanahaki.” You say. “He said that if the doctors have already recommended hypnotherapy then conservative treatment probably can’t do much but it may slow the progression.” You explain. Jungkook is still staring at your with confused, round eyes. “If you promise to meet with him at least once a week for some conservative treatment and then you book in for proper treatment once the wedding is over… I’ll do it. I’ll plan her wedding.”

Jungkook’s whole face lights up and he grabs one of your hands, clasping it between your hands. His hands dwarf your own and you feel like he may break your bones with how tightly he is holding you.

“Really? You’d do that?” He asks, and the breathless excitement and relief in his voice almost makes it worth the stress that will no doubt come with agreeing.

“For you.” You clarify. “And only if you get treatment. If Namjoon tells me you’ve missed even one session, then I’m cancelling on her.” You warn. You look away awkwardly. “And I guess… if it means that much to you… you can come back to work. But you have to promise me that if you’re not feeling well you let me know, ok?”

“Deal!” Jungkook cries joyously, throwing his arms around you neck and pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much (Y/N)!  This really means so much to me. Thank you.”

And it is in that moment, with Jungkook squeezing you tightly to him like you’ll get up and sprint away if he lets go, that the elevator door starts up again like it was just waiting for the two of you to come to an agreement.

And if it’s suspicious that Jin and Seri are both anxiously waiting by the elevator doors on the fifth floor when they eventually slide open and release you, then neither you nor Jungkook notice it.

You’re both too distracted by the work you have ahead of you.

[mistymark]

the one with the annotations.

dong sicheng x reader // 3.7k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which sicheng keeps writing in the books at the library and it should be obvious but that’s,,, not,,, allowed???

warnings: none its just fluff, theres some humour if u like,, squint

requested; yes :D - “Enemies to lovers 👀 with sicheng? Love your writing btw 💕” from anon

notes; based on this prompt: ”You’ve got to stop returning books full of corrections and spiteful comments in red pen bc I can’t stop reading them and my boss gives me disapproving glares when I laugh at the funny ones

ohhhhh boi

so while you were at uni you had a part time job at the library

because surprise surprise as a lit major you like books

shocker there

you always tried to work the late shifts, closing up and doing the returns

just because it was easy and relaxing organising and restacking the books

but soon you wished you took the earlier shifts

because of dong sicheng

not to be dramatic but

your long rival

he started coming to the library to borrow books

because that’s kind of the point of a library

but he ended up liking the environment for studying

and would stay there for hours just to study

and you’d admire his hardworking nature

if he left on time, that is

you would do the rounds ten minutes before closing

just to tell everyone like

‘hey, we’ll be closing in around ten minutes if you want to begin packing up’

but this bitch

would nEVER PACK UP ON TIME

you’d end up standing at his table with your bag and the keys in your hand

tapping on the wood to try and get his attention

and him slowly packing up afterwards

even tho he kNOWS you want to go home

‘you’re just as slow as you were in kindergarten hey?’

and he’d be so furious

‘you know you cheated’

‘I don’t remember any such thing’

and maybe you did maybe you didn’t

you were like four years old

as if you’d remember a race you won when you were that age

he just rolls his eyes and leaves as you lock the doors

you leave in the other direction

happily leaving him behind

but he stops by every Monday Tuesday and Thursday night to study

which are the days you work as well

he acts like it’s just part of his schedule 

but he worked out if he came in on Wednesday’s he didn’t have the opportunity to annoy you

and honestly?

annoying you at the end of your shift and after a long session of studying was the highlight of his night

but he keeps borrowing books

and you’re like

whatever

until he borrows this new book you’ve been wanting to read for ages

and you were low-key so bitter

this lil bitch has no way of knowing you wanted that book but somehow he does and that’s the only reason he’s borrowed it

even though,, he literally had no idea lmao

tbh u probably would have wanted to talk to him about the books he reads bc u have very similar taste

okay the same taste

but he’s such an asshole ur like nah fam

anyways he returns it after a week

boy reads fast ok

and when he goes to drop it in the returns box

you just take it from his hand and scan it under your name straight away

and put it under the desk so no one else can borrow it

and when there’s a lull in the work at the library

you reach under the table for the book and rifle through it

and you notice a few pencil marks

and upon further inspection you realise they’re comments referencing certain parts of the book

and you do nOT stand for vandalism

but some of them are fuckin hilarious not gonna lie

on the page you just happened to open

you can see there’s a comment beside a passage of text depicting a fight scene

‘this would kill someone wtf’

and u laugh and wonder who had done this

like the book had only been out for a little while

and u finish it in just less than a week

bc u read a lot during your shifts

probably a lot more than you should tbh

and seriously the comments made the book better

you hadn’t laughed so hard at random commentary so much

like the words were exactly what you were thinking

you couldnt help it

while ur putting some of the books back in the middle of your shift

!!!! you see another book that u might like !!! 

not to judge a book by its cover butttttttt

it looks like ur type oop-

and after flipping through it

to get an idea of font size and chapter length cause ur a whole nerd like that

u see it ALSO has pencil markings

in the borders and underlining sentences

and without even thinking u borrow it

just to read the funny comments again

and ur boss comes up to you during your shift and is like

‘have you seen someone’s been writing in the books? look at this’

and thrusts a book in ur face

and ur like ??????? okay chill I’ll look

and u read the writing she’s pointing at

the familiar loopy handwriting adorning the page

and it says ‘I hope she throws her drink in his face’

when u read the paragraph for context

u realise it’s a confession scene

a few lines down the mystery person has written ‘called it.’

and u can’t help but laugh

like come on that was funny

but ur boss doesn’t agree

she just asks you to find out who’s doing it so they can be suspended from the library

or charged with vandalism

or something

she wants vengeance

u roll ur eyes and go to one of the staff computers

scrolling through the lists of borrowers for that specific book

and it’s a fuckin library that book has been borrowed a loT

2031 times ???????????????

you almost fall of your chair tbh

then someone clears their throat in front of u

and u immediately apologise as u try and get the right tab up to process the borrower’s book

but once u look at the person in front of u

you wish you hadn’t been so nice

sicheng stands in front of you

a grin on his face as he hands you another book

smug bitch is so happy he startled u

‘looking at porn on the library computer, yn?’

u laugh

‘I’m not u in 8th grade’

he glares at you as he takes his book and goes back to his desk to continue studying

u were soooo hoping he’d leave

even tho u kinda enjoyed looking at him

like dude was hot okay

what were u supposed to do????

ur actual job????

please.

so he stays

and when it’s ten minutes til closing

u go and let everyone know

and u stop at sichengs table

and he’s writing out notes or something

idk it’s not like u care anyway lol

but he’s lowkey frustrated bc he keeps messing up this one goddamn formula

so he erases it

and that’s when u catch a glimpse of his handwriting

and bruh am I high or is that the exact same handwriting as in the books

I mean he has borrowed a few of the books

and he’s into that genre

not that you've checked out his borrowed list or anything

basically ur having this whole conversation with yourself in your head

bc ur cool like that

and he’s like ????? why this bitch standing over my shoulder and watching me write out this equation

until he’s like ‘what are u doing’

and ur like !!!!! oh hi !!! sorry I was busy listening to the voices in my head lmao xD

jk jk

‘have u been writing in the books’

and suddenly he’s super shy

and he has this massive grin

and he’s like ‘no’

bitch we know it was u stfu

u roll ur eyes and ur like ‘its not funny my boss wants you to be suspended’

he squints at you

‘how do you even know it was me’

and then:

‘DO YOU HAVE E V I D E N C E’

and u cross your arms

like a badass bitch

and ur like ‘I have plenty of evidence actually’

‘for one, youve borrowed all the books that have been found with writing’

‘and your handwriting matches’

subconsciously he covers his notebook with his arm to hide his handwriting

and he's like ‘why are u telling me this’

you're taken aback by the question tbh

like ?????? to be a good person ??????

idk u fuckwit just wanted to warn you

‘thought you'd want to know’

and he just turns back to his book

and you shrug and walk away like ok get suspended then see if I care

but u do :((

but as you walk away hes like

‘wait’

‘Im gonna be suspended??’

and u nod like ye that's what I just said but ok

‘like I cant borrow or I cant come in at all?’

u don't know tbh

‘both I think?’

and suddenly there's panic in his eyes

another person walks past u and thanks u

and u mindlessly tell them to have a good night as they leave

everyone has left

except sicheng of course

that beautiful son of a-

wait why did u say beautiful

‘what can I do to nOT get suspended??’

and u shrug bc idk dude not my problem

but then u think about it

‘I mean if u get rid of the evidence theres no way u can be suspended, right?’

and he seems so happy at the thought

‘would you help me? please?’

and ur sooooooo skeptical

‘depends. what do u want to me to do?’

‘I mean I need access to the books so’

‘yeah ill let u in and out’

‘I can't exactly just erase the markings when people could be watching’

and that's exactly how you end up sitting in the library with dong sicheng at 11pm at night rifling through books to find odd pencil markings to erase

it wasnt that hard

u just got his record up

*snorts* ‘you borrowed ‘how to talk to girls’ when we were thirteen’

and he just rolled his eyes and marched to the computer like ‘you can see my record I deserve to see yours’

and ur like NOOOOOO nononononono

but later

‘you've read all the light-fighter novels??’

he looks at you from where hes searching for one of the books on the list, an eyebrow raised

‘yeah why’

‘dude,, I loved those books’

and he smiles a little

‘thats where I started marking the books tbh, every time I read it id add a little cross in the corner of the cover bc I read it so often’

part of u is a little impressed

the other is annoyed at how similar your taste in books is

but the first part keeps asking why u hate him so much

other than the staying late and the snarky comments

which you actually find kinda funny-

anyways

once you've gathered up a few of the books

like at least ten each

you sit on the floor of the childrens section

beanbags sprawled out beneath you as u read through some of the books

most of them you've read before

and every time you giggle at something hes written his smile gets a little bigger

but of course youre looking at the book so you dont notice

and he keeps his head down

‘is it bad that im hungry’

you lift your head from the book to look at sicheng

hes not even reading anymore hes just lounging back on the beanbags

and maybe he'd been watching u read

watching as the smile on your face grew wider at his commentary

‘I didnt see you leave tonight. have u eaten?’

you furrow your brows in thought, trying to recall having seen him leave

‘you been watching me, y/n?’

‘have you been eating, sicheng?’

and there's something about the way you say his name that makes his heart jump

his voice is soft as he looks at you in the dark

‘no’

you focus back on the book in front of you

‘finish whatever book youre on and we’ll call it a night’

‘what, you wanna go eat?’ 

you cant tell if hes just surprised or if hes hopeful

or something else

‘no but I do want to sleep’

you laugh and he forces a laugh too

you dont notice the difference

when you've returned all the books

he meets you at the front door as you grab the book you'd been reading that shift

hes just standing by the door on his phone

and maybe its bc ur tired or maybe its just him

but u cant help thinking

Jesus Christ this boy is attractive

and okay maybe u had a crush on him a few years ago

but hey! you were eleven what could u do

the crush still lasted like two years tho lmao

but u shoulder your bag and open the door for him

making sure to lock it carefully

and he walks with you in the direction of your apartment

and ur like oh u live this way too?

and hes like nah

but what kind of boy would he be if he didnt accompany home

like christ y/n u could be h u r t out here at this time of night

but you just smile at him bc wow thats ??? actually ??? kinda sweet

‘who are u and what have u done with dong sicheng’

and there goes his heart again

he just nudges u with his elbow 

and u laugh at him and continue on ur way

when u get to ur building he thanks u for ur help in the most polite way possible

and u can kind of see that hes actually rlly nice ??? how ???

but hes back at the library the next day

and of course he comes up to the counter as soon as he spots you

sneaking around a few desks so u dont hear him come up behind you to whisper ‘BOO!’ in your ear

you jump like three feet in the air and spin around to tell him to get out from behind the desk

‘I dont see a nametag on u that means u have to be on THAT side of the desk thank u very much’

‘didnt realise your name tag said bitch on it geeeez y/n ://’

and u just fix him with a glare once hes finally on the right side

‘are u borrowing a book or not’

‘nuP’

he leans on the desk

his eyes staring straight into yours

‘just wanted to ask if u were able to stay back tonight’

you roll ur eyes

you'd barely gotten any sleep last night

but the look of concern on his face when he realises youre hesitating makes you nod

‘of course,, wouldnt want my least favourite person to get kicked out’

‘I always knew you had a soft spot for me’

you roll ur eyes aGAiN

‘go bother someone else’

‘oh is the hot librarian in?’

you push him away from the desk

but he doesnt miss the faint smile on ur lips

‘sicheng dont make me give you $100 in overdue book fees’

he sticks his hands up at the threat, his eyes wide

‘no. please. ill do anything’

when u raise an eyebrow at him, he just grabs the book you'd been reading (and not yet borrowed) and walks away

and he winks too

u have to stop your heart from beating out of its chest

and later

its 8pm and the library is officially closing

and for the past three hours you'd been walking to sicheng’s desk and subtly been trying to steal your book back

but every single time hes seen you coming

and pulled the book under the desk or into his lap

away from your grabbing hands

every. single. time.

you tap your foot impatiently at him when its time to continue ur undercover project

and he smiles down at his notebook when he hears u huff in annoyance at him

he dramatically looks up at you

‘do you need something?!’

‘do you want to get suspended?!’

he narrows his eyes at you but stands up anyway

he carefully puts his things in his bag and takes the list of books from your hands

a few of them are already crossed out as having been checked and erased

but theres still a lot to go

it takes you almost three weeks to finally get to the last day

and it had been the same thing every time;

sicheng took forever to pack up

you'd eventually find about ten books each

sit in the children’s section

laugh and chat about your lives while you went through the books

tease each other

and when you'd finished,

he'd walk you home

every single time

without fail

it became a habit that on the Tuesdays he'd stop by on his way to his morning class to drop coffee off for you

because he'd kept you up the night before

and it became easy to lose track of time with sicheng

he was just so engaging

there was no part of you that felt bored or uncomfortable with him

yeah he was annoying and infuriating

but his good book taste made up for it

and his annotations in the margins of the books too

‘is this the last of them?’

he squints down at the page again, counting the books on the table again

its the third time hes counted

‘surely ive read more than this’

‘not from this library ://’

you blow your hair out from your face and look down at the pile

‘you know, I think my manager is starting to get really suspicious of me’

‘why’ he looks up briefly from his book to read your face

but you try and remain calm

‘well she only told me about the markings right. and now theyre disappearing’

he looks at you like ?????

‘well she knows ive been closing up late... I think she thinks I did it’

he laughs ‘you? has she met you?’

you pout and throw a pillow at him

‘HEY! what's that supposed to mean :((’

‘it means ive never met someone who's so protective over books as you’

you think about it, chewing ur bottom lip

‘lets just finish this’

‘do u want to get food after’

he surprises you with the sudden question

and the slight nervousness thats evident on his face really makes you want to say yes

but you have a class tomorrow

and you always try and finish up here earlier on a Thursday night

‘cant :((’

he nods and goes back to readng

theres silence for a while

but you find it comfortable

sicheng on the other hand, feels as though hes just been shot down

like

you just turned down his date

you've kinda noticed hes more reserved now

quiet

but rlly hes just kind of embarrassed

until u say something that gives him hope

‘I,, uh, I dont have plans tomorrow night’

and ngl boy is stunned

‘just if u wanted to go see a movie or something idk’

now its ur turn to be embarrassed

u hope ur hair is hiding ur face as u look back down at the book in ur lap bc no doubt ur blushing

but sicheng is just staring at you

and

before even saying anything

he leans over the gap between you

with all the books

and hovers in front of your face

ur so shocked and ur heart is beating way too hard and fast and ur breathing is too quick to be normal are you having an attack I dont know-

and then he leans forward a little bit more

and his lips meet yours

and suddenly its like a fireworks display went off inside you

and then its almost midnight on a Thursday night and ur sitting in the children's section of your workplace in the beanbags with sicheng cupping ur face and kissing you

he just really needed to kiss you

like more than he needed air

and when u finally pull back

he loves how breathless you are

how you have to fight to keep the smile off your face

how you stare at him with wide eyes

‘so its a date then?’

you blush even redder

and nod

‘ye its a date :))’

but for the next fifteen minutes you sit in stunned silence together

small smiles playing on your faces

until u look at your watch and ur like

‘shit sicheng I have to go’

and his eyes widen bc holy crap u were supposed to leave like half an hour ago

so u both sprint around the library trying to put all the books back

and he meets you at the door again after you've grabbed the keys and made sure everything that needed to be locked was,,, u know,, locked

and when ur walkign to the door again

hes on his phone

u cant see but hes texting his friends about what happened lmao what a softie

and when u walk out together

without thinking he grabs your hand

and u walk home

hand in hand

after midnight

he clears his throat

‘so uh,, when actually is our date’

‘my last class ends at 5-’

‘so 5 it is’

‘are u sure??’

he nods happily

and he presses a gentle kiss to ur forehead when u get to ur doorstep

‘ill see u tomorrow’

but the next day

when u come out of your last class

a little giddy

a little too excited

and see him leaning against one of the stone pillars

effortlessly handsome

you feel your heart flip

and maybe ur just tired or maybe its him

but hes really attractive

like really really attractive

its actually just that youre in love with him

he doesnt see you coming

too focused on something on his phone

but he definitely sees you when you push his hand out to the side and step onto ur toes to kiss him

and u can feel him smile a little as he kisses you back

‘ready for that date?’

‘yeah, where are we going’

‘so I was thinking we could go to the libra- HEY! dont hit me I was j o k i n g y/n jesus christ’

[illfoandillfie]

Future Management

Pairing: Roger x Reader

Summery: Roger rewires your mind

Warnings: Smut!, Bimbofication/intelligence play, Hypnosis/trance state, drinking, tickling, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex (yes you read that correctly there’s actually a condom in this one wtf), mentions of spanking/restraints/blindfolds/degradation/public sex but not explicitly, a bit of dom!rog sub!reader, thigh riding.

Words: 6969 (N I C E !!)

Inspired by: Future Management by Roger Taylor (oh my god that video im hhhhHHHhh this song really makes me feel some kinda way)

A/N: So Bimbofication has a bunch of different connotations for different people. For some the emphasis is on the physical shape of a stereotypical bimbo – think big boobs and blonde hair and a valley girl accent - which can lead into body modification stuff. For some it goes hand in hand with hypnosis and mind control. For some it’s about intelligence play - turning a smart person dumb. There are a bunch of different ways to play with this kink and different things to get out of it, especially when you start mixing the different aspects together or connecting it to a dom/sub dynamic. I’ve gone with an interpretation that aligns with what I personally find hot about bimbofication, mostly focusing on the turning a smart girl into a dumb slut/sex object aspect (though I’ve also included a little hint of the physical appearance) using some light hypnosis stuff as gateway to the “bimbo state”. I am by no means an expert in hypnosis (or anything), I just have a passing interest and think it’s kinda hot. A lot of the hypnosis part of the script was inspired by THIS podcast episode which discusses bimbofication/intelligence play and ends with one of the hosts hypnotising the other to make her dumber (it’s a really interesting discussion and FUCK that hypno scene at the end oof its hot). 

Also big thanks to @somekindof-cheese @idontbelievethiss and @dtftomholland for being my betas and giving me some great feedback!!

Taglist: @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ (i hope none of you mind being tagged in this, couldn’t remember if you’d asked to be tagged in all my fics or just the RRL ones lmao, let me know if you wanna be removed from the list!)

To the world at large you are a well-respected, intelligent, and accomplished woman. You graduated university top of your class and head of multiple extracurricular groups. After uni you’d found a job that you loved, working in a law firm, gaining attention as you rose through the ranks and became a prominent attorney. Two years ago you’d thrown it all in to start your own non-profit organisation that aimed to reduce the growing rate of homelessness. It was challenging work but rewarding and you loved it. You’d appeared as a guest on news panels and talk radio programs to discuss the issue and campaign for support which had made you, if not a household name, certainly a recognisable figure in the community. Which is how Roger knew you when you first met. Of course, you’d known him too – how could you not?  

You’d run into him at bar, most of your friends having ditched you for the dancefloor or whoever they were hoping to take home. That wasn’t really your scene though so you’d intended to finish your drink and then head home. Before you could leave, he was in front of you, introducing himself and apologising for the interruption. “I wanted to congratulate you on your work, what you’re doing is incredible,” he said earnestly, “the world needs more women like you. More people like you.”   “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say,”   “I’ll leave you to your drink now, have a good evening,”   “Wait,” you said, surprising yourself, “this seat’s free if you want to join me,”  

That introduction sparked a conversation which lasted hours. For the rest of the night you were wrapped up in each other entirely, the flow of conversation never stopping as you covered every topic under the sun – politics and music and food and literature and everything in between – without any awkward pauses or uncomfortable silences. You found yourself hanging on his every word, blown away by his quick wit and intelligence, and that cheekiness that permeated his very being. He kept both your glasses topped up as you talked, well beyond the point where all your friends had left, until eventually he invited you back to his place. You hesitated, the first hitch in your conversation all night.   “You okay?” Roger asked after you were silent for a little too long.   “Yeah. I just, don’t...know...”   “Don’t know if you want to come home with me?”   “Yeah.” You nervously chewed on your bottom lip. “That’s okay, you don’t have to. Just figured, we’re having such an amazing night, why should it end now?” he said with a slight shrug, “It does kinda surprise me that you’re unsure about it though.”   “What d’you mean by that?” “Nothing bad I promise.” he chuckled, “Just that you’re so sure about everything else. Don’t really seem like the type to not know your own mind.”   You exhaled a single breathy ‘ha’, “About everything else you are correct. Not so much with this sort of thing.”   “Well, at least let me drop you home.”   “That would be nice, thank you.”   “You’re welcome.” He stood to call a car since neither of you were in any state to drive, “The offer still stands by the way, if you do decide you want to. You’ve got nothing to lose.”   You laughed as he threw you a wink but his words stuck with you, looping through your head as you waited for him to return.  

Roger led you out into the street to wait for the car, placing his jacket over your shoulders when he noticed you shiver slightly. He leaned against the brick wall of the bar as you chatted in soft voices until the car arrived. Once you were both tucked away in the back seat, safely hidden from prying eyes and cameras, Roger leaned towards you. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb sliding softly over your cheek. Your eyes darted to his lips and then back up to his eyes.  “At the risk of ruining an otherwise great night, I’d really like to kiss you.” You nodded, the closeness of your bodies already releasing a colony of butterflies in your stomach, their fluttering only getting faster as he moved closer still. His lips were softer than you’d been expecting, his hands rougher as the one remained on your face and the other rested gently against your arm, though you should probably have realised so many years of drumming would leave their mark. You rested your hands against his shoulders, gradually slipping one up into his hair as he deepened the kiss.   Well, shit, if this is how he kisses...   You blinked your eyes open as he broke away from you. No one had ever kissed you like that before and there was only one thought running through your head. Roger’s voice. You’ve got nothing to lose.   “Take me home with you,” you said softly but decidedly, throwing caution to the wind. Roger grinned and indicated the change of plans to the driver before pulling you into another kiss.  

Neither of you even contemplated stopping the whole way to his house, only breaking apart briefly to fall out of the car and hastily climb the steps up to his front door. Even then, his hands remained on you – lightly tracing over the small patch of exposed skin on your back where your shirt had come untucked from your pants. Clutching Roger’s arm, you leaned in to kiss along his neck as he fumbled with his keys. You felt very unlike yourself but it wasn’t an unwelcome difference. You’d never felt such a connection with anyone before. Never found anyone quite as irresistible as you found him. You were glad you’d agreed to this, vaguely recalling the rumours you’d heard about how capable Roger was with women and deciding you could use a little capable. When he finally figured out the keys he ushered you inside and lunged for your lips again, pressing you against the wall as he found them.   You’ve got nothing to lose.   It was the only thought you had time for as his hands slid down to cup your arse, pulling you tightly against him, and he began kissing down your neck, making your breath quicken. He pushed his jacket from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in the middle of the hallway as he found his way back to your mouth, and began walking you through the dark house towards his bedroom. You hit the edge of the bed faster than you’d been prepared for, falling backwards with a giggle and a soft thud. Roger laughed as you scooted backwards towards the centre of the bed, and followed you, slightly more gracefully than you managed. Moonlight streamed through the partially open curtains, bathing you both in a soft light that made him look somehow more gorgeous, and you couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Hovering over you he began unbuttoning your blouse, his lips wandering over your sternum and down towards your chest. You moved to unfasten the buttons and zip on your pants, trying to speed up the process.   “Someone’s in a hurry,”   “Want you so bad Roger. Been a while since I did this and god I need it.”   “How long’s a while?” he paused midway through pushing your shirt down your arms.   “Umm... Months, not sure how many.”   “Christ. If you wanna slow down...”   “Don’t slow down.” You leaned up to kiss him again, to show him how eager you were, “Just don’t try anything too crazy, I’m a little out of practice.” You pulled your shirt off and throw it to the floor. “Noted,” Roger said as he began tugging your pants off and dropped them to the floor as well, “I’m gonna make sure the wait was worth it though.” He lowered his head towards your thigh and you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up in your throat.   “Oh, you’re ticklish!” his face lit up in cheeky delight as he brought his hands up to your sides, making you squeal and writhe as you tried to escape the sensation. Every twitch of his fingers pulled more laughter from you until you were panting and struggling to say his name, begging him to stop. “You’ve got such a cute laugh,” he said as he removed his hands from you, dropping a small kiss just below your bellybutton as you tried to catch your breath, “can’t wait to hear what you sound like moaning.” You could feel him smirking as he left another kiss, lower than the first, on your skin and you let out a breathy whine. He kissed lower still, leading down to your still clothed pussy and the small wet spot that had appeared over the course of the night, as you pushed yourself up on your forearms to watch. When a kiss landed over the top of your clit your hips bucked and when he wrapped his lips round the wet spot, sucking the soaked material into his mouth you whined again. He was clearly enjoying teasing you, the tent in his pants more obvious with every passing moment.  “You want some help with that?” you indicated his noticeable bulge but Roger told you to hush. “I’m not the one that’s gone without for months. Just lie back and let me take care of you.” With that he finally tugged your underwear down your legs, and you let your head fall back against the pillow.  

Roger didn’t hesitate, pushing your legs further open as he dived in to lick your pussy. He took his time, covering almost every inch of you with his mouth, listening to your whines and whimpers so he could find where you were most sensitive, but steadily avoiding your clit. When he sucked one of your lips into his mouth you moaned and he made sure to repeat the action, sending a jolt through you each time. You were already babbling about how good it felt, breathless words rolling off your tongue with no rhyme or reason, bleeding into each other and the moans that followed, when he began to tease your entrance, pushing his finger tip in and letting it slip back out as you tried to clench around it.   “Aren’t you just so needy,” he said as he sunk his finger into you, deeper this time, and let it slip out again, “haven’t even touched your clit and you’re already close to cumming for me,” he continued to finger you slowly, pushing deeper each time until it was buried knuckle deep in your core. Then he began again, adding a second finger, as he returned his mouth to your wet folds. You whined his name as the pit in your stomach began to ache with the need for release, and put your hand on the back of his head trying to press him closer. Roger scissored his fingers inside you for a moment before he brought them to a complete halt. You whimpered at the sudden change but didn’t have time to reprimand him as he finally brought his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. It felt fucking incredible but the pressure wasn’t consistent enough to push you over the edge.   “Oh fuck. Roger I’m so close,” “I know, can feel you clenching round my fingers.”   You bucked your hips again, trying to get the friction you needed and felt Roger laugh, his breath ghosting over your pussy.   “Want to hear you scream my name when you cum. Let everyone know who makes you feel this good.” He pressed his tongue against your clit before sucking it between his lips, at the same time he made a come-hither motion with his two fingers. Within seconds you were coming undone, moaning his name loudly, as per his request. He held you there, blissed out beyond belief, eyes closed as you rode out the orgasm, quivering slightly as his fingers twitched inside you.   “So was that worth waiting for?”    You blinked as you came back to reality and found Roger looking up at you, his head resting against your thigh as he drew random patterns over your stomach.   “You realise It’s been months since I last had sex not since I last had an orgasm, right? Like, I do know how to masturbate,” a pause, “But yes, well worth it,” you conceded with a smile.   Roger flashed you the cockiest grin you’d ever seen, “told you so.” He crawled back over you and you could taste yourself on his lips as he kissed you hungrily, “and by the way,” he said breaking the kiss, “you masturbating is something I would be very interested in watching. But right now, all I want is to be buried in your gorgeous cunt. The way you felt around my fingers, fuck, want you on my cock so bad.”   You hummed as you kissed him, “Think I can make that happen,” you said before rolling the both of you over so you were leaning over him.   “Condoms are in the top draw” he pointed at his bedside table as you hurried to undo his fly and pull his pants and underwear down his legs.   “I’ll get it, you get those clothes off.”   “Yes ma’am,” he said, already ripping his shirt over his head. You saw it fall to the floor as you dug around the draw, followed by the sound of him kicking his pants off his feet. His cock was already standing at attention when you got back to the bed, tearing open the condom wrapper with your teeth.   “Might have to take this a bit slow,” you said as you rolled the condom down his shaft. Roger nodded as you took hold of his cock to line him up with your entrance. His breath caught in his throat as you slowly sunk down on him, taking your time as you adjusted to the unfamiliar and complete fullness.    “Christ, fuck,” you swore under your breath as you took him a little deeper and paused again.   “Stole the words right outta my mouth,” he grunted, squeezing your hips, “fuck, you okay?”   “Told you I was out of practice,” your laugh turned into a moan as you lowered yourself the last inch or so, sheathing him fully inside you. Roger moved his hands to squeeze your breasts as your breaths turned to pants. You slowly began rocking your hips, the room filing with your gasps and whines as you picked up speed.    “Fuck, want to be buried in your cunt forever.” he gasped out as you began raising and lowering yourself on your knees, needing more more more.  “Roger, ohh god, rub my clit, please,”   He didn’t need to be told twice, letting one hand drop down where you needed it. His touch sent a shiver down your spine and your back arched as his name dripped from your lips again. This only encouraged Roger who sped up the furious circles he was making on your clit. You felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm as your pussy clenched.   “Gonna cum soon,” Roger’s hips jerked up as he grunted his warning.  “Same,” you said as you leaned forward to suck a hickey onto his collarbone. It wasn’t much longer before he was calling out your name as he hit his climax, and pulling you into yours with his fingers still on your clit.  

You collapsed on your side next to him, still breathing heavily. Roger left the bed long enough to dispose of the used condom before he was back, pulling you against him and throwing the covers over the two of you.   “I’ll call a cab in a moment,” you said, voice thick with exhaustion.   “Don’t be daft.”   “Not gonna kick me out?”   “Course not. Jesus, what d’you take me for.”   “Good. I’m too comfy to move anyway.”   “Good. I like having you in my bed.”   You hummed as his arms tightened around you and you felt him drop a kiss to the back of your neck. You could feel your eyes drooping but fought off sleep for as long as you could, not wanting the moment to end. Letting your fingers trail softly over Roger’s hand which was flung over your stomach, you listened as his breathing slowed and became deeper. Smiling into the pillow you finally let yourself succumb to sleep.  

When you woke up you were alone and slightly confused by your unfamiliar surroundings.   Oh, fuck...  Things started coming back to you as you took in the clothing still littering the floor. You hurried to dress yourself in yesterday’s clothes and then made your way out of the room, wanting to find a phone to call a cab from. You found Roger first, following the sound of the kettle through the house to the kitchen. He was standing over the stove, back to the doorway and you allowed yourself a moment to look him over in the daylight before you caught his attention.   “Morning,”   He whipped around at the sound of your voice, “Morning. I was gonna bring breakfast up to you.” He held up the spatula he was clutching as proof of his intentions.   “Thanks, but I should probably get going.”   “Already?” You were surprised by the note of disappointment in his voice.   “That’s how this sort of thing normally works, isn’t it?”   “Told you last night I’m not gonna kick you out.”   You hesitated.   “It’s a free meal, love, might as well stay. Nothing to lose.”   There were those words again. They reverberated through your head and you found yourself sitting down. Roger smiled as he turned back around to the stove, shuffling fry pans and plates around as he served the breakfast.   “I hope bacon and eggs are okay,” he said as he placed your plate in front of you.   “Brilliant,” you suddenly realised just how hungry you were, not having eaten properly since lunch yesterday.   “Dig in, don’t wait for me. Tea?”   “Yes please. No milk, two sugars.”   “Can I ask you something? About last night?”   “Yeah,” you said, a forkful of food halfway to your mouth as your stomach began to twist with nerves.   “What made you change your mind?” He put the tea down in front of you, “You were going to go home and then you changed your mind. What was it that convinced you to stay?”   “You’ve got nothing to lose. You said that to me and I realised you were right.” You shrugged as you brought the fork to your mouth, “Plus, no one had ever kissed me like that before.”   “I was giving you my A game, had to impress you.”   “I was worth A game?”   “Course, couldn’t give such an incredible woman less than that”   “You flatterer,” you laughed, “It had been a while though, I probably would have been happy with C game.”   “Well I didn’t find that out till later did I.” He took a sip of his tea, staring at you over the top of his cup. “Out of curiosity, why had it been so long? Something to do with the lack of A game kissing?” he teased.   “I mean, it was a factor.” You could hear the indignation creeping into your voice and willed it away, “Not everyone has mountains of groupies after them.” So much for no indignation.   “No need to get defensive,” Roger held both his hands up, palms towards you, “wasn’t judging.”   “Sorry. It’s a bit of a sore spot is all.”   “No, you’re fine. I shouldn’t pry.”   “Truth is I haven’t dated much. And none of the guys I did date were any good. Recently it’s just been easier to put work first.”   “Does that mean I’m the best you’ve ever had,” his cocky grin from the previous night was back and you couldn’t help but laugh.   “Yes, but it was a very very low bar.”   “I’ll take what I can get.” He looked you over, seeming like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure how, “I had the best time with you last night and I was thinking y’know...maybe this doesn’t have to end here. Let me take you out tomorrow night on a proper date.” “Let me guess… I’ve got nothing to lose?” you laughed.   “That a yes?”   “Yes.”  

You left Roger’s place a little while later, heading home to sink into a hot bath and relax, and barely thought about anything besides him until he picked you up the next night. Your first official date went well – dinner, drinks, making out in the car before he dropped you home. You invited him inside but he wanted to prove he was interested in you for reasons besides that, instead leaving you with lips tingling from a long deep kiss as he departed, and the immediate need to masturbate. He took you out again the next night and again two days after that. Before you knew it, you were three months into your relationship, spending more and more time with him. You introduced him to your friends and family and met his in return. To the outside world you were still the same intelligent and accomplished woman, but now you also had an enviable relationship which seemed to get you more attention than your work did, though Roger was always the first to brag about it. He loved showing you off, telling anyone who’d listen about your work, pulling you into conversations so people could see you were just as bright and self-assured and brilliant as he’d told them you were. More than once you found yourself in a deep discussion with someone he’d been talking to, and caught him staring at you like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. It made your chest burst every time. The way he celebrated every aspect of you, cared enough to ask about your day and pressed for details about your job. Even when you disagreed about something, he’d hear you out, maybe with an eye roll, but he genuinely cared about your thoughts and opinions.  

Which made it easier to take yourself less seriously and loosen up a little. Your work was still incredibly important and something you cared deeply about, but now that you had Roger it was easier to admit you’d been spending too much time at the office. Using it as an excuse to avoid the terrifying unknowns of life and the impending future you hadn’t been able to imagine. Where before the question ‘where do you see yourself in five years’ would have caused anxiety that led to a week’s worth of overtime and insomnia, now you were able to confidently say, “I might not know but I hope it’s with Roger.” You smiled more around him, laughed more. He could turn you into a silly giggling fool with one look, and that was the most freeing feeling you’d ever experienced. You had nothing to prove to Roger. You didn’t have to make him see you how you wanted to be seen, like you’d had to do within your studies and work, because he already saw you as wonderful. And frankly you liked the person you were with him more than you’d liked the person you were alone.  

And then there was the sex. You’d never believed people when they talked about the incredible sex they were regularly having. Never understood why everyone made such a big deal about it. In your experience it wasn’t worth it. Roger had quickly changed your mind. On your third official date he agreed to go back to your place but you’d spent most of the night talking about sex rather than actually having any. The topic of your limited experience had come up again and Roger was trying to gauge what you'd already tried.   “Yes, I’ve sucked dick before,” you rolled your eyes as you stood to fill your empty wine glass, waving it round as you spoke, “not my favourite thing ever if I’m being honest but no one ever complained about my techniques.”   “Hand job?”   “Is that a request?” You raised your eyebrows and took a sip of your wine.   “Stop trying to get my pants off, love,” he laughed, “You’re the one who keeps saying you’ve never had good sex, ‘m just trying to find out what you have had, so I can decide how to blow your mind next.”   “If you really must know, all the guys I’ve been with were fairly bad at it. Only two of them made me cum regularly and even then it was a one and done situation. You did more to blow my mind on our not-quite-a-one-night-stand than anyone else has.”   “Keep talking like that and you’ll give me a big head.”   “As if you don’t already have one.” You dropped yourself into his lap, giggling at the small ‘oof’ of surprise he let out, and wrapped your arms around his neck.   “Alright, alright. So, what’s the kinkiest you’ve done then?”   “Does being eaten out count as kinky?” “God, are you serious?”   “No, I did convince one of them to spank me once which was fun. Hinted that I might want to try more, being tied up and stuff, but he wasn’t into it.”   “Christ, no wonder you gave up on dating,”   “I wouldn’t say gave up, just put it on the back burner.”   “Well it’s a good thing you met me then.” he said, looking up into your eyes, “I’d be very happy to tie you up, and stuff.”   A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestion, “Really? You’re into it?”   “Oh, love, we are going to have some fun. You’ve got -”   “Nothing to lose,” you finished before leaning down to kiss him.”

The longer you were together the more you found yourself thinking about sex. It was like meeting Roger had flipped a switch inside your brain, set off some sort of chemical reaction that made your blood run hot and your skin tingle with the need to be touched. Suddenly you cared about sex, wanted it, even dreamt about it. You had years of bad sex and dry spells to erase and Roger was only too happy to help. To his credit he never rushed you or pushed you to try things you weren’t comfortable with and he always made sure you were safe as he slowly opened your eyes to new things. It started out small, a light spanking one night, since you already had experience with it and liked it. He used it as an excuse to question you more about what else you’d be interested in trying, promising to reward you with another hit for every answer you gave him. At first you’d felt self-conscious, especially when asked to describe what you’d fantasised about. But soon enough he’d had you admitting to everything you’d ever wanted to try, desperately trying to earn another spank as you slowly dripped onto his knee. And then he’d praised you for answering so well and god you could have cum from that alone, the three fingers he'd pressed into you were just a bonus.  

Your answers gave him ideas for what to try next. Adding handcuffs or blindfolds when he fucked you, calling you degrading names while you tried out words like Sir or Master for him, testing how they felt on your tongue and deciding which you liked. Pulling you into public restrooms and other secluded spaces because you admitted that the danger of being caught was a turn on. He’d use your own ideas against you until you were begging, often times for more. He was particularly fond of bringing up the fantasy you’d had of being turned into a silly, giggly, dumb slut – empty headed and eager to please. It was something you’d developed a penchant for back at uni, a fantasy you turned to when the pressure to be smarter than everyone else got too much, though you’d never actually told anyone about it before. The idea of him knowing – of anyone knowing – your desire to be a brainless bimbo was terrifying and exciting and every time he mentioned it you got goosebumps and butterflies. He’d lean in close to your ear, running his hands through your hair, and tell you that a good slut had no use for her brain. That you should just let it go. What could you possibly have to think about besides being pretty and filling your holes however he wanted? It was so easy to sit and listen, let his words fill your head until there wasn’t room for anything else, just the need to please him. It was your favourite release when work was stressful and tough, and for the last week that’s all work had been. Between the land deal you were trying to organise taking longer than you’d planned and the constant juggling of calls to contractors for quotes and calls to estate agents to renegotiate terms, everything was getting to be too much. You just needed to forget about everything for a little while.  

So, when Roger got home that evening, he found you waiting, wearing the tightest, skimpiest clothes you owned – a skirt that only just covered your lace panty clad arse, and a low-cut singlet over a bra that pushed your tits together, plus the tallest heels you owned. It was the sort of outfit you only wore when you wanted to be his brainless toy. It helped you drop into your new role faster, helped your brain melt away.   “Everything okay?” He asked as he pulled you into a hug. “Yeah, just need a break. If you’re up for it?”   “Course, love. You know I love playing with my bimbo doll.”   You hugged him tighter, trying to convey how much you loved him with one gesture, already feeling slightly tingly. He led you to the couch, sitting you down to face him.

“Just need a break from all that noise in your pretty head, don’t you?” His voice sounded different to when he’d first come in, softer and calmer but more authoritative, “all that stress from work. Just need to listen to my voice and slowly sink deeper down, away from your brain, away from everything bad and stressful. And the more stressful things are, the more worries and noise in that silly brain, the faster you sink down down down until you can’t remember anything anymore. Down deeper, where there’s nothing to lose. Where there’s no need for big words. Where the only thing that matters is being a good doll for Sir. Pleasing Sir. Because pleasing Sir makes you happy and horny, doesn’t it?   “Yes,” you sighed softly, a wet spot already beginning to form as you stared into his eyes. “It’s so simple, so easy, isn’t it my pretty, silly, slut. So simple and easy to leave your mind behind.”   You breathed deep as Roger’s hands glided through your hair, gently smoothing it back, his fingernails running over your scalp and down down down to push it behind your ear.   “That’s right, just relax. You’ve got nothing to lose by listening and relaxing. Thinking about how fun it is to be simple and easy.”   Your eyes were shut, though you didn’t remember closing them. You felt Roger’s hand move further down your hair, splitting it into sections, running his fingers through it to smooth it out.   “You like being simple and easy, don’t you? Simple and easy and fun and dumb. My pretty, silly, bimbo.”   He was winding your hair round his fingers, moving slowly and gently, sending tingles down your spine as you took another deep breath. A whimper dropped from your lips and you could almost feel your mind emptying with every word he spoke, letting go of the day, the meetings, the harried phone calls, the forms you had to sign. All of it was so unimportant compared to his voice.   “And d’you wanna know the best part about you being like this?”   “Yes.” If you’d been able to think properly you would have said your voice had changed too. Higher pitched than normal. Brighter and bubblier.   “The best part about you being simple and easy and fun and dumb, is how hot it is. How wet you get. Isn’t that right?”   “Yes,” you giggled, “hot and wet.”   “Good girl,”   You giggled again, his praise making what was left of your brain feel mushy and happy. Roger chuckled at your giggly, giddy response, letting his fingers slip out the bottom of your hair and onto your arms. You shivered at his touch, face breaking into a smile.   “Feels good being touched when you’re like this. Simple and easy and fun and dumb. You want me to keep touching you?”   You whimpered, “yes,” breath coming out in pants as his hands slipped down your arms, setting your skin aflame.   “Yeah, you like that. Got nothing to lose by being touched. Just feels good.”   “Yeah, feels so good,” you giggled and you heard Roger chuckle in response.   “Open your eyes for me, wanna see your pretty eyes,”   Your eyes shot open and you beamed at Roger.   “You like when I compliment you, don’t you?”   “Yeah,” you giggled again, feeling bubblier and lighter now that you could see his reactions. His hands had slipped down to your own, tracing patterns softly over your skin, between your fingers, tapping over your nails.   “Like, when I tell you how cute you sound right now, all giggly. A silly, giggly slut.”   Your response was so predictable, Roger was smiling even before you started to giggle again.   “How do you feel, love?”   “Ummmm, fuzzy. Happy.”   His hands slipped further, landing on your thighs and slipping over your knees, making a wave of arousal roll through your body and a soft whine roll off your tongue.   “Yeah? Do you remember those four words I used to describe you earlier?”   You thought for a moment, furrowing your brow as you searched for the right words, “dumb?”   “Yes, that was one of them, do you remember the other three?”   “Umm,” you stared at Roger, mouth slightly open, “horny?”   Roger laughed again.   “Dumb and horny.... and... easy?”   “That’s right, but horny wasn’t one of the four words.”   “Oh,”   “But that’s okay, you feel horny, don’t you? D’you want me to tell you the four words?”   You nodded fast. “Simple and easy and fun and …?”   “Dumb!”   “Good girl.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours as you laughed again, “And now that my pretty bimbo doll has nothing left to lose, all dumb and mindless, what does she want to do?”   "Ummmm,”   “What is it?”   “I want to suck your cock, Sir,”   “Is that so? Thought you said you didn’t like sucking cock.”   “Noooooo, I love sucking your cock Sir.”   Roger looked so amused by your answer you couldn’t help but giggle, even though you didn’t quite understand why. All you knew was you wanted to please him, that pleasing him made you feel good.

As soon as you heard the jangle of Roger unbuckling his belt your mouth fell open and your tongue stuck out. He moved around so his leg was stretched out down the length of the couch, his other hanging over the edge, with you kneeling in between. Slowly, his eyes glued on you, he unzipped his fly and pushed his pants down his hips enough to let his cock spring free. You waited patiently for his word, watching as he grasped his shaft and lazily stroked along it. Your mouth was almost watering as your desire to lick and suck grew, drowning out everything else.   “God you’re cute. Practically drooling. Ready to show me what a desperate cockslut you are?”   You hummed, replacing Roger’s hand with your own, wrapping it around his base as you kitten licked at his tip. He sighed softly as you took him into your mouth, relaxing further into the couch, and you felt a small burst of pleasure pulse through you. It spurred you on and you sunk lower, taking more of him, before rising back up to swirl your tongue around his tip. He groaned and you were hit by another jolt between your legs. Every noise you pulled from him set you on fire, the pit in your stomach tightening, your cunt dripping, only encouraging you to suck harder and take him deeper. His fist tangled in your hair, holding you down as you gagged around him. Looking up with watering eyes you could see Roger had dropped his head back, his lips silently forming words he couldn’t get out, lost in the sensation of being in your throat. It was enough to make you moan and redouble your efforts, bobbing up and down faster, working him as deep as he could go.   “Fuck, Y/N” Roger choked out, “gonna make me cum soon,”   You released him with a pop, unable to stop the grin the crept onto your face.   “You like the idea of me cumming down your throat?”   “So much, Sir!”   “What about the idea of you cumming?”   “If that pleases Sir, yes”   “You’ve been such a good doll, think you deserve the reward. But only after you’ve swallowed all my cum okay?”   “Promise, Sir,” “That’s enough talking now, wanna hear you gagging instead,” he tapped your head and you leaned down, letting him slip all the way back down your throat. His grip returned to your hair, pulling you up and then pushing you down again, showing you the speed at which you should be moving. You fell into rhythm, breaking the pattern every now and then to hollow your cheeks around his tip or lick along the underside of his cock or gulp for air, before finding the rhythm again.   “So close, fuck, so so close,”   Your movement was suddenly halted as he pressed down on the back of your head, making you choke. You tried to move, needing another gasp of air but he held you down as he came, coating your throat with hot spurts of cum. You swallowed every drop he gave you, your body surging with the electric knowledge you’d pleased him so much, tingling from head to toe.  

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He sat up, brushing his fingertips over your cheek.   “So much, Sir! I love your cock,” you giggled, leaning forward to drop a quick peck to the head, “love drinking your cum.”   “And you’re so good at it. My pretty, cocksucking doll. Do you still wanna cum?”   “ummm, yes?” You didn’t really care if you got to cum, you just wanted to make your Sir happy.   “I’d like to watch you cum,”   “Then yes!” another giggle.   “Then why don’t you sit that cute cunt right here,” he patted his thigh, “and show me what a good slut you are.” You settled yourself over him, hitching your skirt up in the process, so you could grind against him, still wearing the skimpy panties you’d picked out. A moan escaped you as you rolled your hips and Roger placed his hands on them, to keep you pressed firmly against him as you rocked yourself closer to your release. You were already so worked up it didn’t take long for you to reach the edge, whimpering as Roger’s grip tightened. “That’s right, cum for me,” His permission was all you needed to let yourself fall over the edge with a gasp. You felt so light and happy, buzzing with pride and the knowledge that your Sir wanted to see you fall apart. You shuddered and fell forward as the orgasm washed over you, leaning your forehead against Roger’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to the top of your head as you shivered through the orgasm.   “So beautiful,” he was playing with your hair again and you hummed at how good it felt. “That’s right, just relax, listen and relax and come back. Nothing to lose by coming back. Back to who you were before. Who you are. So simple, so easy to come back. Relax into it. Relax back into yourself. Letting go of the bimbo. So easy to come back to your mind.”   You took a deep breath as you returned to yourself. More aware of everything around you. The salty taste of Roger’s cum on your tongue. The warm, wet feeling between your legs. The scent of Roger’s cologne as you breathed deeply. You sighed contentedly as the giddy, giggly lightness you’d felt slowly faded and the real world came back to you. Roger’s eyes found yours as he tilted your head up, searching them for anything amiss.   “Hey,” he said softly rubbing your arm soothingly, “how was that, you okay?” “That was exactly what I needed. Thank you.” You pecked him on the lips. “You’re very welcome. You wanna talk about work?”   “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I’m,” you shifted slightly, still straddling his thigh, “still a little worked up actually. Race you to the bedroom?” Roger’s lips slammed against yours as he held you tightly, the kiss heated and hungry, “who need’s a bedroom when there’s a perfectly fine couch here. Time I repaid you for the fucking fantastic blow job.” You squealed as you found yourself on your back, Roger pulling your soaked underwear off hurriedly.  

To the world at large you were a well-respected, intelligent, and accomplished woman with an enviable relationship. And you were. All that and more. But you knew, and Roger knew, that deep down you were just a silly, giggly, dumb slut, who loved sex and craved cock and lived to please. Just a pretty bimbo who had no use for anything besides her Sir. And really, what more could you possibly want.  

[zoeygreensimblr]

Wonderland (Episode 53)

"Happy birthday Princess" Angus greeted me the morning of my 19th birthday. He was in the kitchen cooking me pancakes.

"Thank you baby" I say, sliding up next to him and wrapping my arms around him. Angus had taken the day off work to spend with me but he wouldn't let me know what he had planned, "Can I get just one clue of what we are doing today?" I ask him, watching the cheeky smile spread across his face

"We are going to get very dirty" He teases, winking at me, "Eat your breakfast, we've got a big day ahead of us" He places a plate with 3 pancakes in front of me and I drizzle maple syrup all over them and take my plate to the dinning table.

"Is Tess and Brian joining us?" I question him, usually Tess would wake me up on our birthday but I hadn't heard a peep out of her this morning.

"Brian took her out for breakfast but they are meeting up with us for lunch" He explains, sitting himself down at the table with his own stack of pancakes covered in strawberry jam.

"And where exactly will lunch be?" I ask, trying my best to squeeze any information out of him.

"Your breakfast is getting cold Princess" He tells me, ignoring my question while smiling to himself, he loves surprising me. "Pack your swimsuit though" He says and that's the only clue I'm given.

The first surprise on the birthday list is Newcrest Day Spa, a place known for it's luxurious mud baths, yoga, sauna and range of massages, we are greeted by a tall, thin, blonde woman with glowing skin who offers us cucumber water on arrival.

"Good morning Mr McKenzie and Miss Green, my name is Lola, we have you booked in for stone massages at 10am and a mud bath at 11, feel free to join a yoga class or unwind in the sauna, we also offer hand and feet massages."  Lola tells us, handing over plush white robes for us to change into, "Down the hall you will find change rooms with lockers, your locker is number 66, and here is your passcode to unlock it" Lola say, handing over a small piece of paper with a four digit code.

Angus and I make our way to the change room where we change out of our clothing and into our swimsuits, wrapping the robes around ourselves.

"How did you get a booking here? I've heard it's booked out months in advance" I ask, amazed.

"The owner is a client at the gym, I had her pull some strings and get us in" He tells me proudly, he knows he's done well, this is nothing like the day spa Tess and I go to for massages in Brindlton Bay.

We make our way upstairs to the massage suite, take off our robes and hand them on a rack then lay face down on the massage tables and wait. Two women enter the suite and introduce themselves as Chloe and Nicole.

"Happy birthday Zoey, ready for your stone massage?" Chloe asks me cheerfully.

"Yes please" I reply, smiling over at Angus.

My hot stone massage leaves me feeling very relaxed and refreshed.

"Please try our lemon, honey and ginger detox tea" Nicole offers us as we are putting our fluffy robes back on, "It helps elevate your body of toxins". We take a cup of tea each, it tastes sweet with a hint of citrus and ginger, drinking it on the way to the bathing room. The mud baths are already set up for us so we, once again remove our robes and climb into the baths.

"So this is what you meant when you said we'd be getting dirty?" I ask Angus, rubbing the green facial mask on my face and placing two slices of cucumber over my eyes, I relax into my bath.

"I did, I just didn't realise what I was getting myself into, I have mud going into every opening" He laughs.

"Thank you Angus, this has been a great surprise" I tell him.

"The day isn't over yet Zoey, you've still got to pick out your present" He says, dropping a clue.

"I have to pick out my own present?" I ask him, confused

"Shhh Zoey, it's relax time, all will be revealed soon" He tells me, laughing to himself.

We finish our mud baths and then take separate showers to clean ourselves off.

"Time for lunch my Birthday Princess" Angus tells me when we meet up in the change room. I'd been eating small meals lately to keep the morning sickness away but today I was craving a juicy cheeseburger.

Next door to the day spa there's a bowling alley and waiting out front is Tess and Brian.

"Happy Birthday Teresa" I exclaim, wrapping my sister in a tight hug.

"Happy Birthday Zo, have you had a good day so far?" Tess asks me and I smile brightly at her.

"Oh yeah, I had a massage and a mud bath, what about you?" I enquire.

"Brian took me out for breakfast with his parents and gave me this beautiful gold locket" Tess tells me excitedly, "What did Angus give you?" she asks me curiously.

"Zoey's gift is coming, I'm taking her to pick it out after we bowl" Angus tells Tess before I get a chance to open my mouth. Tess and I exchange looks but she doesn't say a word, I think she knows what my gift is but she's not going to spoil the surprise.

We enter the bowling alley and get assigned a lane. The lanes are all black with neon lighting up the sides that make the bowling balls glow when you bowl. Angus orders food for our group while Brian enters our names into the computer.

"Brian is a professional bowler, he's even on a team in the league" Tess boasts, she's so proud of her man.

"Meanwhile I may need to put the gutter rails up so my ball doesn't go in the gutter on each throw" I laugh, I always have fun when I bowl but I'm not the most co-ordinated bowler.

"Well since it is your birthday I think that can be arranged" Brian says as he hits the option on the computer.

Angus returns with our table number and a sparkling pink bowling ball.

"For you my Princess" He says, handing me the ball.

We played 3 games of bowling, with Brian winning 2 and Angus winning 1 and even though Tess and I didn't win we still had a blast playing. Angus had ordered cheeseburgers and fries for lunch, he knew I'd been craving it and that it would be a long time before I get to enjoy another cheeseburger again.

"Are you ready for your present now my sweet girl?" Angus asked me after lunch.

"It's been driving me crazy so yes, I'm more than ready" I laugh.

We say goodbye to Tess and Brian and head back towards Brindlton Bay.

"Are you having a good day so far Zoey?" Angus asks me, reaching over and taking my hand

"This has been the best birthday" I tell him, trying to watch where we are driving so I can understand what my present may be, Brindleton Bay isn't really a shopping district, it's just a small town by the water.

"Your parents have something planned for You and Tess later this afternoon and they want to do dinner at the restaurant tonight" He informs me, I knew we would be having a meal at the restaurant at some stage today, it's a birthday tradition.

Angus pulls the car up outside of the Brindleton Bay Animal Shelter and my eyes go wide, now I understand what he meant by me picking my present.

"I'm getting a puppy?" I ask him with absolute joy.

"A puppy or an adult dog, it's up to you, the dogs that are brought here have been mistreated and are looking for a loving home and you've got so much love to give Zoey" Angus says to me, smiling brightly.

We walk into the animal shelter and are greeted by Max, the vet who runs the animal shelter.

"You must be Zoey, happy birthday" Max says, holding out a hand for me to shake, he then leads us through a door where there's about 12 dogs, all separated into pens, some with others, some alone, most of them playing, all except one, a Maltese terrier sitting alone in her pen, she comes up to the side of the pen when she sees us approach and rolls onto her back.

"This is Lily, she was brought in about a week ago, she's very shy and quiet but she loves having her belly rubbed" Max explains, I reach my hand down and rub her tummy as she wiggles around, I notice that she's very under weight for an adult dog though.

"Was she neglected?" I ask Max and he nods his head.

"Unfortunately yes, she's started putting on a bit of weight in the week that we've had her, we've been feeding her small meals of dry and wet food, she wouldn't eat at first but now she can't get enough of it" Max tells us. I look at Angus, he's smiling back at me because he knows that Lily is the one for us.

"We will have to get some dog food and a bed for her to sleep on and a leash so I can walk her every day" I say to Angus, making a list of everything we need for Lily, he crouches down beside me and pats Lily.

"It's all been taken care of Princess, why do you think I got you out of the house so early?" He says, laughing.

We finalise the adoption of Lily and Max places her into a carry cage to take in the car.

"I'd like to make a donation to the shelter as well" Angus tells Max, pulling a cheque from his wallet and handing it over.

"Thank you very much for this, we are a non-for profit organisation and do rely on donations from the community to keep us going, I appreciate your generosity Mr McKenzie" Max says to Angus, shaking his hand.

"Zoey is going to be a vet one day herself and she loves animals so we are happy to help out" Angus says to Max.

As we are driving home from the animal shelter, I can't help but overthink what Angus said to Max about me becoming a vet.

"Do you still believe I can go to Uni this year?" I question him, I honestly thought it was off the cards for me since I found out I was expecting.

"Zoey, becoming a vet is your dream job and I'm going to help you achieve that" He tells me, smiling brightly at me.

"But how? You're going to be doing year 12 yourself this year so you can get into Uni too" I stress.

"Well I've been thinking about that too, I thought I wanted to get a degree but I'm kinda happy where I am in life, I'm training Tess up on how to do all the book work and scheduling and I love being a personal trainer." He says to me, he's willing to sacrifice his own dreams to help me achieve mine but I feel a strong pang of guilt, I don't want him to lose out.

Angus pulls into our driveway and I notice there's a shiny, red car parked out the front of our house, I don't recognise the car as belonging to anyone I know.

"Do we have visitors?" I ask Angus.

"Not that I know of" He replies with a smile spreading across his face, "Why do you ask?"

"The red car, parked out on the curb in front of our house" I tell him as if he didn't see it there too.

"Oh that car, that's yours" He informs me, fishing a key out of his pocket and handing it over to me but I can't accept it.

"No, Angus, this is too much, you can't buy me a car for my birthday" I exclaim but he just laughs, takes my hand and places the key in it.

"Zoey you needed a car and it's nothing too flashy, just a little Honda that will be easy for you to drive, plus you may have appointments for the baby when I'm not home and it will give me peace of mind to know you're safe and not on the murder train" He explains. I lean over and kiss him.

"Thank you baby, I love you so much" I say to him.

Walking into our house is like walking into a puppy wonderland, there's a new dog bed and chew toys, a giant ball, feeding bowl, leash and a dog collar. I place Lily's travel cage on the ground and she slowly steps out, wary of her new surroundings.

"Tess come meet Lily" I call out to my sister who pokes her head out from her room.

"Who is Lily?" She asks me and then she lays eyes on our new housemate and she comes running out from her room and sits on the floor where Lily is, Lily rolls onto her back and Tess knows to rub her belly.

"This is Lily, she's 2 years old, she's a bit shy but loves belly rubs" I tell Tess.

"She's adorable" Tess says as she plays with our new dog, I join them on the floor to play, grabbing the ball and rolling it to Lily who gets it and then takes it to Tess who then rolls it back to Lily who brings it to me.

"She loves to play" Angus remarks as he watches Lily run around between Tess and I. Lily is going to be very loved in our house.

While we were out my Mother had delivered dresses for Tess and I to wear that night, every year on our birthday she buys us a matching outfit but in different colours, this year our outfit was a long, sparkling dress, Tess' was blue and mine was magenta, the dresses were gorgeous but when it came time to putting them on I struggled to zip mine up.

"I've put on weight, I feel so fat" I complained to Angus, giving up and throwing myself down on the bed.

"You're not fat Zoey, you're pregnant, this is all normal" He reassures me, holding out his hands to pull me back off the bed, once on my feet he helps zip up my dress and he manages to get it zipped all the way, "You look beautiful my Princess" He tells me as he kisses my neck softly.

"People will start to notice soon" I fret, I can't keep this secret for much longer.

"Zoey, it's been a month, I think we're good for a little bit longer" He laughs as he takes my hand and spins me around and we dance together in our room.

We arrived at the restaurant just after 6, straight away I notice the 'closed' sign on the door so I knew this wasn't going to be just the usual family birthday dinner. Mum greets us at the door.

"Happy Birthday my beautiful baby girls" She cries as she hugs Tess and I, "And why didn't you tell me Zoey?" She asks me, I feel my heart jump up into my throat.

"Tell you what Mum?" I ask nervously, surely she didn't figure it out already.

"That you got into Brichester, I'm so proud of you" She exclaims excitedly, I had been so sweep up in all the baby drama that I had forgot to even check my results, Mum hands over the acceptance letter she had stashed on the hostess stand.

"I actually forgot to check online" I confess and my Mother just laughs

"Well luckily they send an actual letter of acceptance out and you were granted a full scholarship too" My Mother says, she cant wipe the smile from her face.

"Congratulations Zoey" Tess screams as she throws her arms around me.

"Did you get into Brichester too?" I ask Tess, she hadn't mentioned anything about her results or Uni

"I didn't apply, I decided that Uni wasn't for Me and that I'm going to do some art classes locally while I also run the gym this year" Tess tells me and I'm so happy for her, it took her a long time to figure out what her passion in life was but she was always so good at art and design, "And I got an offer to paint a mural on that giant blank wall in the city, the council saw what I painted at the gym and wants to see more of my art"

"I'm so proud of you too Teresa" My Mother says to my sister, wrapping her in a big hug, "My creative and artistic baby"

Inside the restaurant all our friends are waiting, there's a table at the back full of presents and the dinning area is decorated with balloons and streamers.

"Happy Birthday girls" Cassie says to Tess and I, handing us a glass of champagne each, I look at Tess, knowing I cant drink mine but not wanting to be questioned why.

"Thanks Cass, I'll take Zoey's though because she's driving tonight" Tess says, taking both glasses from Cassie.

"You're driving on your birthday, that seems unfair" Cassie pouts

"I got a new car and wanted to drive" I explain, only half lying. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, luckily I see our food is be brought, "I'm starving, let's eat"

"Don has been preparing this for you all afternoon" Mum says as she places our food in front of us, an appetiser of savoury bacon love petals followed by our main course, sizzled brisket over sour clover salad, I knew Don had been trying out some new, experimental foods to add to his menu, just to keep things fresh and this was delicious, so full of flavour. After dinner Don came out of the kitchen with chocolate sponge cake with blue icing, topped with a "19" candle. When we were kids, Tess would blow out the candles first because she was born 20 minutes before me but as we got older we started blowing them out together, so our wishes would be sent out at the same time.

"Ready Zo?" Tess asks me after everyone has sang Happy Birthday to us

"Yep" I confirm, and together we blow out our candle as our friends and family cheer.

"Happy Birthday my baby girls, nineteen years around the sun and both so beautiful and smart" Our Mother gushes over us, wrapping her arms around both Tess and I.

"We couldn't have gotten this far without you Mum, or Don" I tell her, kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you girls, I love you both very much" Don says to Tess and I, handing us a knife so we can cut the cake and share the pieces out.

"Did you make a wish" Angus whispers to me as I hand him a piece of cake.

"I did" I tell him, placing my hand on my stomach, "And in 8 months time we will see if it comes true"

[sleepy-and-anxious]

I really want to know all of the different aesthetic ask things but I really don’t have the energy to pretend to be 5 different anons😬

Because its you, and only for you, I will answer every question I haven’t already answered because I hate myself U W U 

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

Saturday afternoon in the car on the way back from wales!!! I sang Drumming Song by florence and the machine 

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

Eh! I went for cocktails with my uni friends the day or so before I left and I got a little rubber duck in the cocktail and we all had a really lovely time. I paid for everyones drinks so that people weren’t worried about spending money and it was just a really really happy night uwu 

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d take more chances and sit down more often to write my wip ideas down!

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

Kinda? Publish a book, get all the tattoos on my list, meet a lot of my internet friends! 

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

Not particularly - but I think I did okay with what I was given.  

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

uhhhhhh.... yesterday? I cried in front of my mum. 

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

Always. I hate small talk but deep talks im g o o d with. 

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

uhhh.... most likely @notanotherhour because I was snapchatting him when I couldn’t sleep at like 4:30 am on saturday. 

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

A D O R A B L E 10/10 YUMMY

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

A Charismatic Loner ft Too Much Cake 

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

Uh... buy a flat? Save it? Travel? 

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

I’d like to think i am? I think I could always be more forgiving. 

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

I don’t need 100 words i’d just need a few: 

“Keep going; theres light at the end of the tunnel even if you wont see it for a while.” 

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

p u n k 

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

j’adore both

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

I wear a bit of makeup? I usually fill in my brows, wear eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara. Sometimes i’ll wear foundation, but I find it uncomfortable a lot of the time. But if I am wearing foundation then I will usually go a contour and highlight too. 

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

Be fucking kind to each other

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

Oh damn okay so: 

Kerrang! tour: Fearless Vampire Killers, Tonight Alive, Chiodos, Black Veil Brides. my first concert! it was a friends 13th birthday and she wanted me to come with her! I went for tonight alive and ended up in love with chiodos! 

Pierce The Veil: I still adore. This was my favourite. small emo me was living. 

Paloma Faith: I c o n i c  

Fall Out Boy: amazing! I bought tickets for my two best friends. 

One Ok Rock: “SENPAI NOTICE ME!” taka: “wait- Senpai?”  legendary moment 

Twenty One Pilots: one of the most amazing live performances i’ve seen. A r t i s t s. 

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

Chaotic organisation is my shit. I know where everything is but its rarely neat. 

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

Depends. usually, unless im going out im winding down at approx 9pm... sometimes earlier. I usually read or watch netflix at this time. Sometimes I have too much energy and can be found going absolutely bat shit crazy and dancing around my room with my earphones in. Then by 11/midnight im usually in bed scrolling through social media or reading! 

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

Okay, so i’ve been dying my hair since I was like 13 but uhh my hair is now died black and styled in a long asymmetrical bob with an undercut. I’m really digging the style, but I might consider going a lighter colour again soon.  

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

Never gotten high, but i’m usually just a really flirty drunk. So maybe some fluttered eyelashes at other people but nothing more than that . 

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

hmmm one song would probably be one of the songs i mentioned in the bands question in another ask... I wouldn’t know about only seeing one person o3o 

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.

Yeah, I think so. Its a comforting feeling where your stomach does summersaults and you find yourself smiling/blushing uncontrolably when thinking about them 

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

I’m not sure... I’d love to rock short hair but I don’t think I have the right face shape for it! 

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

skinny hazelnut latte (iced or regular depending on how warm it is)! Uh, my uni friends, my ex and the starbucks baristas back in wales bc they know my order by heart lmfao

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

my freedom, the ability to create things and all the possibilities I have now. 

[ahnmakes]

devlog # 9 // life updates + new systems (UI, character stats, turn-based system)

so, I’ve been away for what feels like a year - there are a million things I could share.  first, let me update you on life things, then tell you a bit about what I’ve worked on in-game. as far as life things, I have been t i r e d.  and with autumn (my favorite season) here, the desire to cuddle and sleep all day is strong.

part of what’s been keeping me so tired is also that I both started uni studies and have a new job.  in the last blog, I mentioned I was thinking of going to university for further studies in computer science and all.  well, thanks to a few people’s generosity (and many, many phone calls, emails, etc), I did get signed up in time!  I have been absolutely in love with the things I’ve been learning in my first computer science class ever; even though it teaches Java, I have found that everything I’m learning is very easy to translate into C# and what I’m building in Unity.  each day, I feel more confident in my coding, so much so that nearly everything I’ve done in the past month has been entirely from my mind, just free-coding, without any tutorial or other guidance.  it is really amazing to feel like I can code up a system in my mind, even when I am away from a computer, and then sit down and type it out and it run exactly as I intended. while my studies and my new job (not especially difficult, but asks but for many hours each week; consider supporting me on Patreon so I don’t need to work as much?) keep me busy and often fatigued, I have been reclaiming time to code things I love and am really excited about - and I’d like to share with you a couple of things I’ve recently built. (edit: I just realised that a lot of the images are blurry :( will think on a fix for this)

where we left off with the last devlog, I was working a lot on the systems to build up the physical world: tile generation, interactables, biomes, and the like.  I did actually work on some other parts of the world and visuals (will share that in a near future devlog!), but more and more lately, I’ve been feeling like what will really keep me excited and focused, to feel like I’ve reached a solid checkpoint in my development, is being able to actually *play* the game.  even if it’s repetitive, only one area, or without animations, being able to press play and move characters around and interact is something I know will excite me.  so, that’s what I’ve been working towards. there are a handful of pieces I can identify between where the game was last devlog and what it needs to be minimally playable: - a basic UI that shows character stats - a system to calculate and update the stats to be displayed - a system to keep track of turns automatically - for the UI or world to display player choices accurately - at least a couple interactive actions the player can take, besides moving (damaging health, defending, etc) I started with making a basic character stat UI and a behind-the-scenes calculator. note: since we’re working mainly on systems in this devlog, I’m going to be sharing a lot of code talk.  but maybe you’re into that sort of thing.  also remember that my focus in each of these pieces is not to make something gorgeous or especially well-organised; my focus is to make something that works (though I am always thinking about optimisation and other possible patterns along the way).

so, this is what the first UI for character stats looks like!  I modeled this as a basic idea of how you might make a UI for creating a character and being able to preview their stats - both the base ones (like might and agility) and also a few of the compound ones (health, stamina, mana).

in this version, a player can choose an inheritance (what other games call “race”), a birth sign, and a primary class (though you won’t be able to choose it from the start like this in the game).  each of these choices contributes modifiers which change the stats, which is calculated altogether when you press the left or right buttons.  (again, these are not all the inheritances, signs, or classes in the game)

here’s a bit of the magick code that makes this happen:

as you can (hopefully?) see, I’m calling methods (CalculateClassValueMIT, etc) to get the relevant stat values and multiplying those against a magic number (eep!) and the character’s inheritance scaling.  what you might you also notice here is that these calculations are hard-coded to a given attribute (might, dexterity, intellect, etc); along with MIT, each of the other five attributes has its own calculation method.  I really hate this because I know there has to be another way to do it, but this is the way I know how to do so far - feel free to message me other patterns! (for example, I’ve seen people make a Stat class, but I don’t really get that yet?) then, while I was feeling a bit playful with UI and stats, I thought I would spend a day making a prototype of a “charisma interaction” system.  by this, I mean that - in the game - characters will be able to use their interpersonal skills to be able to navigate certain quests, get more information, and the like.  charisma pairs with each of the other attributes to give a certain way of interacting; for example, charisma and might could be interpreted as aggression, intimidation, using one’s size or boldness to gain favor.  pairing charisma with will could render an interaction more focused on relating, understanding, and empathising.  you can see some of might interaction here.

what’s shown in this is that Joseph, the unit kind enough to help with our testing, responds to your might interaction attempt with various phrases.  behind the scenes, Joseph has their own inheritance, signs, and other traits, and when you click, these + a random roll are used to calculate *how* Joseph responds.  in this case, Joseph has a primary sign of Aries, which inclines them to respond well to your might-based attempts (you’re in luck!).  even when Joseph declines your attempts or chooses to stop talking about a subject (just wait some days for them to open up again), they will tell you that they mostly like how you’ve approached them, even if it didn’t work this time - a character with Virgo as a primary sign, however, might tell you off on your first attempt and refuse to interact further with you. rather than just a few pre-programmed dialogues, I am interested in the game having a more procedural, somewhat organic feel.  also, in the actual game, Joseph will have slightly less patience; you won’t be able to keep clicking, only able to make an attempt twice in a day before the character closes that interaction. while the gif above shows many of the responses and reveal that there are just a handful of phrases this character will use, a player won’t see these in succession like this, so hopefully, the organic, personal feeling will be maintained.  and again, in the future, I intend to make this more complex, not just button pressing. here’s some of the behind the scenes to how the aries sign is built.  each sign is a scriptable object with these same parameters.

the basics of how a sentence is formed:

and what happens when you press the MIT button:

and the last thing to share today is about the turn-based system.  I knew this was an important step in moving us closer to a playable version of the game.

take a look, and then I’ll explain.

feel free to rewatch a few times, since there’s a lot to notice.

first, I approached this system by defining exactly what makes up a turn.  during a turn, the player will have four basic opportunities for choices: a first movement, an action, a secondary action (if the first was a half-action), and a second movement (if the character has any remaining movement).  these are the phases that the character sees and directly interacts with. then, beyond/around that, each turn also needs to initialise a player and update any status effects (status phase), figure out who’s next and adjust each character’s place in the list (priority phase), and see if the battle conditions have been met or if a next turn is needed (check phase).

here’s a closer look at some of the phases in code:

the basic setup is that the player interacts by pressing buttons when their input is needed, then the code moves through the phases depending on numerous factors: if the player used up all their movement, if they have action remaining, if they have a status (sleep? paralysed?) that will skip their turn, which phase it is currently ..

I have seen other approaches to coding a state machine (which I guess is what this is?) that I didn’t understand very much at all, and I am excited about this code because I know it came from me and all the things I’ve learned over my short time coding.  importantly, i am excited because it works.

whew.

so, what’s next?

well, I’ve built these systems solo (separate from the rest of the game systems) so that I could really polish them (as much as one polishes prototypes :p) before moving them into the fray. so, a next step is to integrate both the stat UI and the turn-based system into the rest.  to make it so that a player can pull up a fuller UI with a key press.  to show a constant UI indicating which units are involved in an interaction, maybe with some predictive stats (chance of hit).  and to have the player’s “movement button press” actually be them choosing which tile to move to, calculating automatically if that is their full movement range, and a much prettier (radial?) UI for selecting actions .. let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  one thing at a time.  I will keep working at it, with my plan being to get a workable version running this weekend, so maybe check back soon. and if you’d like to support me or get some behind the scene insights or help with building your game, do check out my Patreon - I would love for you to join my party: patreon.com/ahnmakes ✨✨ otherwise, I’ll see you in the next devlog! with love and need for a long, long sleep, ahn