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contemplativepancakes · 3 years ago

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Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #contemplative writing #vampire! geralt

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bewitched-moonlight · 4 years ago

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🧼 Witchy Reset Day 🧼

When life feels overwhelming, a reset day can be incredibly useful.

🏠 Reset your home 🏠

Your home can be essential to your well-being. Here’s a list to follow to start this reset day:

- Open your windows wide open to get fresh air, and release old energies - Clean your bed sheets with fresh and scented detergent - Vacuum and de-dust every surface, clean your oven and shower and sinks - Take the trash out and declutter your living space - Put your books back in the shelves, sort your clothes in your wardrobe - Check your fridge and pantry: throw what is old, give away what you never use

Once that is done, make a large grocery haul to fill up your house with healthy, comforting food. Light scented candles. Replace flowers from your vases and add new elements to your altar.

Try to list everything that makes you happy and grateful in your home: the view you have from the windows, or how your bed feels so cosy after a long day, or the memories you have in your kitchen, cooking meals for your loved ones.

🤸 Reset your body 🤸

Before doing anything else, drink a large glass of water. Yes, this seems obvious, you probably think that you’re drinking enough water. Believe me: you probably are not.

If it’s lunch time, cook whatever you feel like, with one condition: make sure your dish has enough vegetables. Eat it slowly, without looking at your phone or the TV.

Go to the bathroom and take care of everything that you’ve been scheduling for later. Make an appointment with the hairdresser, if possible. Clean up your nails, shave your face or body (only if that makes you feel good), scrub off dead skins and put on a hydrating mask. Take a long shower – make it as warm as you want but finish with cold, refreshing water.

Put on clean and comfortable clothes. Look at yourself in the mirror and make a mental list of everything that you like about yourself: the way your smile completely changes your face, or how your hair looks right after you cleaned it, or even the scars and marks you have on your body, indicating that through challenges and difficult times, you survived.

🧘 Reset your mind 🧘

Now, sit down on your desk and take a piece of paper. Write down every tasks that have been weighing on your mind. Think about every area of your life – family, friends, work, health, gym, etc. Use this Getting Things Done Trigger List to ensure that you are not forgetting anything.

Once that is done, read through the list again. Add a star to each item that can be done in 10 minutes. Schedule the others in your calendar. Then, try to knock off as many tasks on the list as you can: make an appointment with your dentist, order a present for your brother’s birthday that is coming up, pay your electricity bills, invite your friends over for dinner, set up a date with your partner, return the clothes you just bought that didn’t fit, etc.

Then, open your computer and declutter your digital space. If your desktop looks like this, start by organizing your files. Upload the important documents in your drive, delete the unnecessary ones, sort through the mess. Open your browser and do the same with your bookmarks. Check your personal emails and unsubscribe to old newsletters that you never open. On your phone, delete the apps that you never use. Save the pictures you love on your drive.

Close your computer, turn off your phone, and clear up your papers from your desk. Pour yourself a cup of tea. You have done so much by now! Hopefully, you are feeling content and rejuvenated.

✨ Reset your soul ✨

The last step is for yourself. You decide whatever you want to do now. Resetting your soul is all about self-care and spirituality, which is very personal, so I am not going to enforce anything on you. I have listed below a few steps I like to take. However, none of that is mandatory. You have to figure out by yourself what makes you feel good.

- Pour yourself a bath with scented oils and salts - Try positive affirmations with simple sentences such as “I am unique and interesting”, “My life is filled with love and happiness” - Practice meditation or light stretching for 20 minutes - Open the book that you’ve wanted to read for a long time - Close your eyes and take a well-deserved nap - Listen to a podcast while baking your favorite dessert

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years ago

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Daddy!

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY X READER RATING: FUNNY

I sat at the table in our little apartment, the ice cold floor against my feet, the sun coming in through the open little basement window, the heated steam around the room still not settled from the last shower. I was sorting through the mail putting it into three piles: one for me, one for y/n and one for junk. I glanced up a moment seeing the blurred shadows of y/n getting dressed in our bedroom, and I looked over to the rug where Erica sat with her little table playing tea with her dolls and bears. She saw me and waved so I waved back just then the door to the bedroom opened and I smiled seeing her in her little white tennis shoes, her black stockings, and her little blue dress her hair done up tightly and her make up perfect

"You look beautiful" I told her

"Thank you benny" she giggled

"Erica? Doesn't mummy look beautiful?" I asked her

"Mummy always looks lovely" she giggled running and giving y/n a hug

"Aww thank you Erica. Now come on mummy needs to go to work" she says petting Erica's hair and pushing her away "are you sure?" She asks coming to the table so I got up

"Y/n" I laughed, giving her forehead a kiss "I'll be fine. How hard can it be?"

"Don't say that" she giggled "I just… I don't know, your not used to it, and it's been a while and not since- maybe I should stay home"

"Y/n, go to work darling. I'll be fine, nothing bad is going to happen I promise." I told her "everything with be fine,"

"I don't know I'm just worried about leaving you alone"

"Seriously? Y/n? I am the us chess championship I can handle our four year old daughter for a few hours"

"I know. It's just your not around her much and you don't know what it's-"

"I know I haven't, but I have to learn don't I? It'll all be fine. Don't you trust me?"

"Do you want the honest answer Benny or the lies?"

"Lie to me" I shrug

"You'll do fine I completely trust you" she says getting her bag and going to leave but I stopped her arm

"And the truth?"

"There are days Benny I don't trust you to look after a cake"

"In all fairness… it's not like I'm gonna eat our daughter? She's not delicious like cakes you bake"

"I did make her" she laughed

"I helped!" I argued "come here sweetheart" I smiled and Erica happily ran into my arms so I sat her on my hip letting her nuzzle with my shirt "we'll be fine won't we? Mummy doesn't need to worry? We're gonna have the best day aren't we princess?"

"Yeah! Bestest day with daddy" erica giggled

"Alright, just follow the instructions."

"I know" I sighed

"You know where Jr's schedule is?'

"Yes I know where jr's stuff is" I laughed slightly rolling my eyes

"Okay, take care all of you I'll be back for dinner" she smiled giving erica a kiss and then me "don't fuck this up benny" she warns before getting her things and heading off to work.

"Well, make it just us now erica. Well us and your brother" I told her

"Can we play daddy! Can we?' she giggled

"Five minutes princess, daddy needs to finish with the mail and then we need to get you dressed" I told her putting her down so she ran off to play again, I finished up with the mail and went over to I guess the kids room, the corner of the apartment that I think just had a desk at one point where now all the kids stuff sat with a screen to decide if from the rest of our one room apartment but we were in the moving process we had found a little house but we can't move in till the other people are moved out so we're just kinda stuck here till they leave. With Erica's little bed and jr's crib and all their clothes and toys I helped Erica into her little blue dress much like her mother's having a bit of a fight with it, so many strings, so many buttons and tiny clasps. As soon as I got her dress on, jr began crying so I went over and picked him up out of his crib instantly noticing the problem "whoa! Yeah jr I think I'd be crying too if I smelt like that" I complained making erica giggle as I took him to the table and began changing him I knew y/n wouldn't have done it before she left she would have Intentionally left it for me, having to be very carefully "no! No jr. No. We do not bite daddy!" I told him he might not have teeth yet but when he gets your finger or anything in his mouth he will bring the full strength of his jaw down on you and it fucking hurts!

"Daddy!!!! You have to braid my hair for me!!" Erica squealed jumping on her bed

"I know princess. I know. Five minutes while I deal with your brother. And don't jump on the bed" I told her "ahh! Jr no! No! Do not pee on me!" I warn him quickly finishing changing him as well as dressing him for the day

"Daddy!" Erica whines

"I know sweetheart I know. I'm coming" I told her as I put jr in his chair giving him his milk for this morning then sitting on her bed with her starting to braid her hair, following instructions in her little book as I very rarely do it y/n always does it for her, this part over here and then this part over there ughh why do you have so much hair! Until it was done… mostly. It'll Do. And jr had finished his bottle so I put him in the stroller and did Erica's little shoes "now mummy days we need to go shopping and to the dentist. Now I think mummy is making it more difficult for us so I think we should go to the dentist first then shopping and then we can get ice cream okay?"

"Yeah!"

"Good girl, you're gonna bring dolly?" I asked as I got my coat on

"I have to bring dolly" she giggled, getting her little rag doll and hurting along with me.

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xmyshya · 3 years ago

Text

Shoved it: chapter III - Kickflip

summary: You don’t like skaters. They’re unruly, misbehaved and rude. But this one encounter just might change your view. genre: fluff warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (seriously, make a dentist appointment), slow burn, mutual pining betas: @vanille–kiss as always I’m eternally grateful to you, I love you lots a/n: Written for ANILYSIUM (former HQHQ) Server Collab with the prompt “Meet Ugly”. Check the event’s masterlist here! series navi: masterlist | previous | next wc: 1.7k

This is it, you think staring out the window. This is the last tutoring session. Something makes you sad about it, and as if the world tried to be sympathetic, it’d been raining since morning. Early afternoon brought thunders and a downpour so dense, it looked like a fog. You shift your gaze to refocus on the boy on the opposite side of the desk.

“So, ready for the big day?”

“I don’t think I’d be more ready, even if we sat for another week.” He shrugs.

“Time to go home, then.”

You lift from the chair and pack your things, and after a second he does the same. Even though it stopped raining some time ago, puddles are still lake sized and streets have yet to stop being rivers. You’re not really keen on leaving the school building, but it’s evening, your bus leaves soon, and you’re hungry.

“I’m gonna go on ahead.” You say before he can stop you.

This is it, he thinks after you disappear behind the door. He really wants it to last longer, to spend more time in a quiet empty classroom with you. A sigh leaves his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, looking around the dark room for the last time before locking it up.

There’s still at least an hour before his bus arrives, so Rin drags his feet to the lockers before switching to his street shoes and walking out of the building. Everything is flooded, and he sighs again, slumps his shoulders and shoves his hands into pockets. At least it’s not raining anymore.

Suna sees you still waiting at the stop and wonders if this is his chance. Maybe it’s a sign from heavens for him to speak to you, to be friends or maybe even ask you out. You’re focused on your phone, eyes not registering the approaching boy and the car, splashing fountains on its path.

Acting purely on instinct, he reaches you in a few long strides and pulls you away from the curb just in time. Luck isn’t on his side though, as the vehicle passes at the exact same moment, soaking him from head to toe.

“Well… fuck.”

Shocked; this is how you feel after realising what has just happened. The boy who has been pestering you for the past weeks, the one you did your utmost best to avoid, is standing right in front of you completely drenched. It would be you, if he didn’t react; it should have been you.

“Th-thank you.” You mutter while playing with the hem of your uniform. “Do you live far?”

“No, but I still have an hour before the bus arrives.”

Suna tries to wring the water from his uniform, but no matter how much he squeezes and twists, liquid still pours in thick streams. You try to suppress the urge to brush the wet hair stuck to his face and notice him shivering.

“Oh, uhh… My bus will be here in a moment, and” you feel the embarrassment heat up your cheeks, “I live 2 stops away, so you can come and dry yourself first. If you want, I mean.”

The weight of his stare is almost unbearable, but you miss the blush creeping up his neck and ears, not daring to look back. His voice is quiet and shaky, as he responds with

“Yeah, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Rin still can’t believe he’s on the way to your house. Opting to stay by the door so as not to wet the whole floor he wishes the circumstances were different, and he wasn’t soaked to the bone, but he’s not picky. If this is what it takes to change your perspective, then so be it.

He sighs, as he runs his hand through sopping hair. Nervousness starts to get to him, words get lost in his head as his mind presses to say something, anything. Since when does he have trouble speaking to a girl?

For some reason his heart is pounding and palms are sweaty, though (he hopes) it might also be because of the incident. So for now, Suna opts to watch you stare at the passing landscapes, as if you were afraid to meet his eyes.

“This is our stop.” You finally say as the bus slows down.

***

Panic strikes when you enter home. Do you even have any clothes that would fit? There are some old sweats and t-shirts of your dad, but it’s difficult to say if the size is right. Not to mention that it’s the first time you invited a boy to your house, and your parents aren’t even here.

After leading him to a bathroom, you disappear in the storage room in search of something for Suna to change into. You grab some pants and t-shirt, and go back to him.

“You should take a hot shower, otherwise you might get a cold. I’ll put your uniform in the dryer afterwards.”

You hand him a wrapped bundle and pull a towel from a drawer. Just as you’re about to leave, Suna mutters a quiet “thank you”, and for the first time you genuinely smile at him.

When he walks out of the bathroom, you’re in the living room surrounded by piles of books and notes; your attention shifts to his presence only after he speaks.

“I hope you don’t mind, I already turned the dryer on. Didn’t want to trouble you.”

His hair is still damp from the shower, and the sweatpants are a little too short, but at least they’re dry. With each lift of his hand to rub the towel at his hair, the t-shirt slides up revealing his toned abdomen. It takes a lot of energy not to sneak a peek.

“Trouble?” You’re confused by his statement. “It’s my fault this even happened in the first place, I should have-”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to, okay?” He rubs his neck nervously and the shirt rides up again. “So don’t blame yourself.”

You only nod in response, too flustered to push words through your throat. All of a sudden you remember about the mess around, despite having a guest.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I just have so much backlog to work on, I’ll clean this up!”

“No!” Rintarou notices your little shiver. “I mean, you don’t have to… I’ve been holding you back, so just… don’t mind me.” A moment of silence fills his mind with guilt. “Hey uhh, do you mind if I get us a snack?”

Now you’ve done it. There’s a visitor, his first time at your place, and a first boy at your place, and not only are you ignoring him for the sake of homeworks, you also failed at hospitality completely by not offering any food. It is late, and neither of you had dinner yet.

“Ah! I’ll get it! You’re a guest after all!” You almost jolt out from under the table, but a hand on your shoulder keeps you in place.

“No no, please, I don’t want to be any more of a bother. You’ve been helping me with school and now I’m just intruding, so let me do this for you.”

“Okay.”

***

When Suna comes back with two plates of omurice, you’re deeply immersed in your studies. He places the dishes carefully in vacant spots, the gentle knock against the table grabs your attention, and cotton-candy-like warmth spreads in your chest. You expected a snack, some yoghurts or a bowl of nuts, or whatever else, not a warm dinner with a “ganbare” written on it.

Papers are shoved to the far end of the top, making space for the hot food. It looks delicious and you can’t wait to taste it. You clear your throat and speak hoping it would distract you from that feeling spreading in your chest.

“Would you like to watch something while we eat?”

“Sure, do you mind if I…”

He gestures between his and your side of the table; you shake your head and shift to make room for him, which he fills right away.

Omurice is indeed mouth-watering, creamy and well seasoned, and in response to your surprised expression he simply says “I have a younger sister, I can make a thing or two”. The more you know about the boy, the more you like him. You try to dismiss it as just admiring him as a person, convince yourself that it’s nothing but a surprise.

It proves to be difficult, however, when you barely register what’s on the screen, because of his proximity; it’s hard, when every brush of your arms against each other sends sparks to your brain; it’s tough, when you can feel his warmth radiating from his body and you want to be engulfed by it.

It’s nearly impossible, when you lean back on your palms, but his hand is already there, and you cover it with yours. Both of you jolt with hearts thumping violently, praying that maybe, just maybe, the other one doesn’t hear it.

After that neither of you moves, eyes trained on the screen but somehow not registering the events at all. In an attempt to ground yourself, you support your chin with your hand, and that’s the last thing you remember.

Rin hears your soft snores and, seeing your peaceful and relaxed expression, smiles as he brushes some stray strands off your face. He’s already overstayed his welcome, uniform long forgotten in the dryer. It’s wrinkled and still smells like a puddle, guess he’ll just have to give you these clothes back on the next day.

Not wanting to trouble you any more than he already has, Suna brings the plates to the kitchen, arranges books and papers in neat piles, and covers you with a blanket lying nearby. He catches himself almost planting a kiss on your forehead.

Before scooping all his stuff and walking out, he scribbles a quick note:

“My clothes were dry and I didn’t want to wake you. Don’t work too hard. See you tomorrow :)”

Taglist: @kageyamas-love @mikasbloodbag

#haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #suna x y/n #suna rintarou x y/n #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x y/n #anilysium server collab #shoved;it #mysh.whitedwarf.[hq]

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 2

3rd Person POV

By the age of nine, Jean and Tom Granger found that their adopted daughter (Y/n) was quite a peculiar child. It wasn't just the strange hourglass scar on her neck, but she was incredibly smart, picking things up that most kids in high school wouldn't understand.

By Year Five of school, (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger had aced all of her classes on top of taking Year Nine level classes - Geometry and AP Biology.

And by the age of ten, (Y/n) was fluent in Russian, French, and Spanish.

The eldest Grangers also learned that their adopted daughter was extremely athletic. (Y/n) had played football - what Americans called soccer - and was top of her class in her Karate and JiuJitzu classes.

(Y/n) was also an inventor. She could come up with solutions to problems that Jean Granger had told her that most adults couldn't solve. She had built her first circuit board at the age of five and her first engine at the age of eight.

The Grangers' had put a shed in their backyard where their adopted daughter was always tinkering with things she would buy or was gifted from neighbors.

It wasn't to say that Jean and Tom's other daughter wasn't smart, for Hermione Granger was very intelligent. But all three - including Hermione - knew that (Y/n) was on a whole different level of intelligence.

Hermione Jean Granger wakes on July 26th of 1991 to her sister standing over her, a wide smile on her face.

The two sisters - even considering that (Y/n) was adopted - looked nothing alike. Hermione had frizzy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, whereas (Y/n) had sleek (H/C) hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a strange thing about (Y/n)'s appearance though, she had an hourglass shaped scar on the side of her neck. (Y/n) liked the scar, but it reminded her of black widows, which wasn't great because (Y/n) didn't like spiders.

Hermione sit up in her bed, pushing her covers off her.

After the two use the bathroom - (Y/n) taking a quick shower and leaving her hair damp - they make their way downstairs to find their parents already in the kitchen.

"Morning girls," Mrs. Granger greets her daughters as she places breakfast on the table.

"Morning Mum," (Y/n) and Hermione say in unison.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dressed for work - they were dentists at the local dentists' office a few miles away.

After the four finish breakfast, there is a knock on the door.

Looking slightly confused, Mr. Granger stands up from the table and walks towards the door.

He opens it to see a very stern looking woman with black hair and blue eyes.

"Good morning," Mr. Granger greets the woman.

"Good morning, sir," the black haired woman says. "Are your daughters home? I'm here about a scholarship, per say, for a new school."

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange excited looks.

"Yes, they are here," Mr. Granger answers the woman. "Would you like to come in?"

The woman nods and steps inside the neat house.

"Hermione! (Y/n)!" Tom Granger calls and the two girls rise from their chairs simultaneously and walk out into the living room.

(Y/n) waves shyly at the woman, surprising the other Grangers. (Y/n) was never shy.

A small smile spreads across the woman's face at the slight of (Y/n) and catches sight of the hourglass scar on her neck.

"Hermione and (Y/n), was it?" the woman asks and the two nod.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm here about a school for gifted people like yourselves," the woman says.

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange gazes, like a clashing forest, brown on green.

"It might be hard to believe, but the two of you, you're witches," McGonagall says and (Y/n)'s gaze flashes a silver, almost too quickly for McGonagall to see, but the woman does.

This sends a flash of curiosity though McGonagall, but she holds out two letters.

(Y/n) and Hermione step forward and take the letters from the Professor.

Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger 100 Crestent View Ln. The Third Largest Bedroom Hampstead, London

"That's so very incredibly specific," (Y/n) murmurs. Opening the letter, she quickly reads:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

(Y/n) looks suspiciously at the letter for a moment before looking up. "Are you sure?" (Y/n) asks. "I'm not anyone special. I can't be a witch."

At the comment about (Y/n) being no one special, the other three Grangers exchange looks that McGonagall presumed to mean that they though that the statement wasn't true.

"Has nothing ever happened when you were afraid or nervous?" McGonagall asks and a flash of realization flashes behind (Y/n)'s eyes. "If you two have to go to work," McGonagall turns to Jean and Tom, "I can take the girls to find their school things."

(Y/n) looks excitedly over at her mother and father, "Mum, Dad, can we?"

Jean looks at McGonagall and nods.

Hermione and (Y/n) grin at each other.

"Go get dressed and then you can go," McGonagall says, smiling softly at the girls' excitement.

(Y/n) and Hermione run up the stairs.

(Y/n) goes to her bedroom and opens her closet door. She pulls out a black AC DC t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts from her dresser.

Thinking for a moment, she grabs a zip up hoodie and throws it on, placing her wallet inside one of the pockets.

(Y/n) stops at her sister's room and a moment later, Hermione pops out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt.

"So, what do you think about this?" (Y/n) asks as the two make their way down the stairs.

"I think it's interesting, us being witches and all," Hermione answers as the two enter the living room where they find their mother asking McGonagall to keep her daughters safe.

McGonagall, (Y/n), and Hermione walk outside and McGonagall tells the two girls to take her hand.

They do, and they're suddenly somewhere else. (Y/n) and Hermione look up to see a sign, which reads, The Leaky Cauldron.

They walk inside.

It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

(Y/n) studies the boy for a moment, then he looks over at her, as though sensing her eyes on him.

The old bartender hurries out from behind the bar, rushes towards Harry and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." The boy didn't seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle.

(Y/n)'s POV

I look up at Professor McGonagall who looks at me with a question evident in her eyes, though I couldn't tell what it was.

McGonagall follows Harry and Hagrid out of the pub, Hermione and I following.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid was saying.

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. ... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid responds. "Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He taps the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceed to walk through the archway.

McGonagall follows the two and Hermione and I follow close behind.

"The first stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringotts," McGonagall says leading Hermione and I towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley.

The doors open and we walk in, the doors closing behind us. We walk over to what looks like a Santa Clause elf - pointy ears and relatively short.

"Good morning," McGonagall says, pulling out a golden key, "we need to visit Miss (L/n)'s vault."

"And does Miss (L/n) have her key?" the goblin asks.

McGonagall hands the goblin the key in her hand. "Very well," he says, handing the key back to McGonagall, who, in turn, hands it to me.

"I'll have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I follow Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook holds the door open for us.

We walk into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It slopes steeply downwards and there are little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart comes hurtling up the tracks towards us. We climb in and are then off.

When the cart finally stops, the four of us get out stopped in front vault 714.

"Key please," Griphook says and I hand him my key.

I was confused though, because Vault 714 had no keyhole.

Griphook simply examines the key closely, and then hands it back to me. I guessed that they key must just be confidential.

"Stand back," says Griphook importantly. He strokes the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melts away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," says Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hermione asks curiously.

"About once every ten years," Griphook answers with a rather nasty grin.

3rd Person POV

Griphook steps aside and (Y/n) and Hermione's eyes go wide at the sheer amount of gold, silver, and bronze coins inside.

"This is mine?" (Y/n) asks Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly, holding out a drawstring bag.

"Your mother was very addiment on leaving most of her gold to you," McGonagall says and (Y/n) nods dumbly as she takes the bag.

Hermione helps (Y/n) scoop some of the coins into the bag. Though they had taken quite a bit of coins, it didn't even seem to make a dent in the large piles.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Professor McGonagall explains as (Y/n) studies a wooden box in front of the truckloads of gold coins. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

(Y/n) nods absently as she opens the box, Hermione next to her.

Inside, she sees a stack of letters and a few pictures.

Hermione holds out her bag, and (Y/n) closes the box, placing it inside the bag.

(Y/n) smiles gratefully at her sister as Hermione pulls her backpack back onto her back.

One wild cart ride later, the three stand blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

Hermione pulls out her letter, and (Y/n) reads over her sister's shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungiby Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) I set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we even start?" Hermione asks in amazement.

"If we get are cauldrons first, we can put our other supplies in it," (Y/n) thinks quickly.

Hermione nods and then both look up to Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly and leads the two to the Apothecary where they pick up two cauldrons and two supplies of basic potions ingredients for Hermione and (Y/n).

"Books now, 'Mione?" (Y/n) asks with a grin as they are about to pass a large bookshop.

Hermione shoots her sister a grin and the two girls walk into the bookshop, McGonagall waiting outside with their cauldrons and potions ingredients.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione grabs two of each of our course books while I look around at some of the other books. I grab: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of teh Twentieth Century, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean attitude about him.

Harry's POV (A couple minutes before)

Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin's shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I said, not really liking him very much.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," I say.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," I respond.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," I say. I really don't like this boy, I thought.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," says the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," I say coldly.

"Do you?" says the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

"Oh, sorry," says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." I respond.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

A tinkling of a bell interrupts the boy. I look over to see two girls walk in.

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, "That's you done, my dear," and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," says the drawling boy.

3rd Person POV

A few minutes later, (Y/n) and Hermione walk into the bright sunlit alley, their robes folded neatly in a bag.

(Y/n) smiles at Professor McGonagall and places her robes into the cauldron, then (Y/n) lifts up the heavy cauldron, Hermione doing the same with her own.

"What next?" Hermione asks Professor McGonagall.

"You two still need wands," answers McGonagall, pointing towards a store.

As we walk closer, I read the sign, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The three of walk inside. A tinkling bell ring somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside, and an old man walks to the desk from teh deep recesses of the shop.

"Hello, good afternoon," the man says. "I am Mr. Ollivander. You two are here for wands I presume?" he asks and Hermione and (Y/n) nod.

"(Y/n) (L/n)," Mr. Ollivander says, "I was wondering if I was going to be seeing you soon." he pauses, looking carefully into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Your mother's eyes." At the statement, (Y/n)'s eyes seem to light up with curiosity. "It seems that only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve inches, ash wood with a unicorn hair core. Good for stubborn and courageous witches and wizards."

Even at this small amount of information, (Y/n) had perked up. Hermione glances over at her adopted sister and feels a rush of pity for her. She can't imagine not knowing who her parents were.

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't remember, because she did have very vivid nighmares about a car slamming on the brakes, a flash of green light, then red, then everything would go dark. It always ended the same way however, with Mrs. Granger carrying a two year old (Y/n), who was clutching her black and white stuffed cat, back to her home.

(Y/n) wrenches herself out of her thoughts as Ollivander approaches her. He had come so close that he and (Y/n) were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touches the hourglass shaped car on the side of (Y/n)'s neck with a long white finger.

"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it," he says softly and (Y/n) looks back up into the wand maker's misty silver eyes. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . ."

He stops, and (Y/n) continues to watch the wand maker, her green eyes flashing silver for the second time that day.

Ollivander, as though sensing (Y/n)'s desire to know more, moves onto Hermione, and she quickly revives her "Vine wood, Dragon heart-string, 10 1/4 inches, unyielding" wand.

(Y/n)'s POV

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then Hermione. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, "Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core, 12 1/4 inches. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world.'" Mr. Ollivander says, and I look up at him in shock. Hermione hadn't gotten such a lengthy explanation of her wand.

Mr. Ollivander fixes me with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that that phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers - just two. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, one of it's brothers gave you that scar."

I swallow thickly.

"Your other wand's brother, however, I sold just a mere thirty minutes ago," Ollivander continues, "to a young Harry Potter. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think that we must expect great things from you, Miss (L/n) . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible yes, but great."

Hermione and I return home a few hours later with Professor McGonagall, me clutching a woven basket that housed my new black and white cat Marvel inside.

3rd Person POV

Before they enter the house McGonagall stops (Y/n) before she can enter.

(Y/n) turns to looks quizzically at the professor.

"Good luck," the Professor says simply, then holds out to train tickets. "These are you and your sister's ticket's for Hogwarts." (Y/n) nods, taking the tickets. "I'll see you on September 1st," McGonagall says. Then the Professor turns around and walks away.

Word Count: 4,100 words

So yeah, here's Chapter 2.

I wonder if any of you know who (Y/n)'s dad is yet. I tried dropping some hints at the very beginning.

So yeah

I'll see y'all soon!

Love y'all!

Kaitlynn 😍❤️

#hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter various x reader #fem reader

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rosie-26 · 3 years ago

Text

The Beginnings of a New Blog

Hey there!

My name is Rosie and I’m a qualified cardiac nurse working in Wales, UK. Welcome to my blog :)

This blog is going to be a mismatch of all the different things that I enjoy including; my work in the medical field, my specialism in cardiology, my studies to become a medical student, my love of literature, travel (now that the world seems to be opening back up again) and my plan to improve my lifestyle and fitness!

Last week I turned the grand old age of 22 and I’ve come up with a ‘bucket list’ of all of the things I would like to achieve by the time I turn 23. So here are my 22 goals:

1. Read 30 books (I love reading but I don’t make enough time to get stuck into my enormous ‘To Be Read’ list, so this year I’m tackling most of them!)

2. Get a tattoo (This will be my second tattoo but I am planning to get more- I actually have a tattoo booked for in a weeks time!)

3. Donate blood (I’ve already donated blood twice before but I’m definitely going to keep on donating as much as I can)

4. Apply for medical school (A large part of my blog is going to be centred on studying and documenting my journey to get into medical school. Even though I have a career as a qualified nurse, I’ve always wanted to be a doctor but not taking college seriously and below excellent grades which are needed to apply meant that I had to chose a different degree. Luckily many universities in the UK have alternative routes into medicine for students who have already obtained a undergraduate degree).

5. Sit the GAMSAT exam (a key entry requirement for all graduates to sit before they apply for medical school is the dreaded GAMSAT exam. My aim is to sit in 2022 but I’ve got a lot of studying to do in the meantime to prepare myself)

6. Lose 5 stone ( lockdown and the stresses of university and working during the covid pandemic has definitely resulted in me binge eating and using food as a comfort. I’ve joined a gym, started swimming and eating a more balanced diet)

7. Travel abroad alone (even though I’ve been lucky enough to travel to a lot of places, I’ve never plucked up the courage to fly somewhere by myself, this will be the year!)

8. Travel to a new city every month (whether this is abroad or just simply exploring new cities around the UK and closer to home)

9. Start a Tumblr blog ( Tick! )

10. Try 10 different cocktail recipes (I do have a bit of a weak spot for cocktails, I feel as though I’ve tried several but would love to actually make my own!)

11. Try 10 different baking recipes (Something that I used to love doing before I moved out and started university was baking. Shared kitchens at university and lack of funds for ingredients stopped all of that but I would love to start up again. There’s something so satisfying and calming about baking!)

12. Go to a comedy show (I’ve always wanted to go to a comedy show! The atmosphere seems amazing and it’s just been on my list of to-dos for a while now)

13. Book a dentist appointment (I know this one is a little bit gross but it’s something I haven't done in a while, I get scared very easily going to the dentist and I’ve been putting it off for ages!)

14. Write 3 medical essays (Is it weird that I actually really enjoyed writing my dissertation?! Well, I did. It’s a goal of mine to eventually have work that is published in medical journals but for now I’m happy just writing for fun and practicing my academic writing)

15. Sort out my wardrobe and give to charity (I’m guilty of buying too many clothes which eventually just end up in the back of my wardrobe, unworn and collecting dust. Last year before I finished university I managed to sort out 3x black bin bags full of clothes and shoes and donate them to charity)

16. Save at least £100 a month ( I know it doesn��t sound a lot but because I rent by myself and I’m paying my car loan, I don’t have a lot of spare money each month)

17. Go to 10 different museums and/or art galleries (one of my favourite pastimes during my days off or when I’m visiting a new city is to explore the local museum and art gallery! There’s just something so relaxing about walking through all of the exhibitions)

18. Grow my fingernails (I have a horrible habit of biting my fingernails when I’m stressed or anxious. The past year has been particularly bad so I’m going to try and make a bit more of an effort to grow them!)

19. Fit into my size large scrubs (the size I started with when I started University which I now can’t physically get past my thighs! I’d love to be able to fit back into them!)

20. Be able to run 5k (I love the couch to 5k app but I’ve never actually managed to complete it)

21. Go on a hike every month (living in Wales there are plenty of walks/hikes that I haven't managed to explore but I’d love to see a bit more of what Wales has to offer).

22. Buy a new MacBook ( I know this one seems strange but I’ve had my MacBook for 6 years now and I’d love an upgrade! Whenever I save up enough money something always happens like car insurance, MOT that I need to use the money on)

So there it is! My list of 22 things I want to achieve by the time I turn 23. I’ll update you along the way :)

I’m really looking forward to starting this blog and hopefully you guys enjoy the content!

See you soon,

Rosie x

#newblog #nurse #medicalstudent #medstudent #study #study motivation #studyspo #studyblog #bucketlist #todo #fitness #motivation #medical #cardio #travel #follow #journey #love #welcome

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

Text

Enemies to Lovers!AU with Xiaojun

—

Group: NCT [+ WayV]

Member: Xiaojun / Xiao Dejun

Genre: fluff, comedy, romance

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 2.4k

so, you’re Xiaojun’s enemy (he thinks of it more of his number one attacker tho)

it wasn’t hard considering he’s always on fight or flight mode and considering his friend group….

fight mode is always activated

(ง’̀-‘́)ง

so it started when you became friends with Ten

the guy is so sociable, so you were bound to meet him and his other friends someday

but jesus christ, there were soooo many of them

it was a party; he threw a literal party of just him and his friends

and then there were others who turned it into a rave (i.e. Hendery, Yangyang, Chenle and Donghyuk)

anyways, you got to mingle and make so many new friends

it was going really well

until Xiaojun entered the picture

things went well with him too, until you made a joke that didn’t exactly land with him

but it landed well with the others

Lucas: “who in their right mind would like mint chocolate”

Xiaojun: “but I like mint chocolate”

You: “then you’re not in your right mind lmao”

YangYang: “I mean, is Xiaojun ever in his right mind tho”

everyone laughs

except for one person

Xiaojun stood up, staring you down for a hot second, before trying to argue back

in which YangYang was the main responder

you didn’t really think much of it, laughing away with the others

but, to him, you just declared war that day

it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did

but it did

so, from then on, things just got rockier

bc he started picking fights with you over the littlest things or he would argue with your points no matter what

you didn’t really think much of it bc he was also being picked on everyone else and you were like

every man for themselves huh

it wasn’t until he personally attacked you

it happened on Halloween

and he made an underhanded comment about how he’d look better in anything compared to you

so you made a “friendly” bet

but then you lost

bc Xiaojun looked better in the Jasmine costume than you and he def knew it too

and when he smirked at you

the grudge had been built

that’s probably when the mutual enemy status circulated around your friends

although, if they’re being honest, it’s so entertaining

especially since most of them like to gang up on Xiaojun too

and because of that unity, it’s only made things worse

from what the others can tell

you two don’t hate each other, but you def don’t get along

it ranges to food (e.g. mint chocolate chip incident that NO ONE lets go)

Lucas: “mint choco ain’t shit”

You: “retweet”

Xiaojun: “the attacks”

YangYang: “we cannot trust a man who eats bread with fucking lao gan ma”

You: “you eat what with bread?”

Xiaojun: “shut up. all of you.”

to activities

cue you two fighting about what movie to watch

Xiaojun: “Titanic is a classic!!!”

You: “it’s a joke, there was rOOM ON THE FUCKING DOOR”

Xiaojun: “IT’S ROMANTIC. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF SO SHE CAN LIVE.”

You: “THAT’S NOT ROMANTIC. THAT’S SUICIDAL, DUMBASS.”

this feud is def bc you’re both petty as fuck

the bickering is nonstop

but, if the nct boys are being honest

they’re lowkey confused bc Xiaojun is supposed to have a really high emotional tolerance

he doesn’t even yell this much at YangYang or Ten

(excluding that one time he hit YangYang with that pillow very hard)

but he does blow off his top when it comes to you

which is sus to a lot of the boys

whenever someone does ask him tho

he just kind of……………

mumbles underneath his breath and then moves onto something else

meanwhile, Yuta: “isn’t he always like that?”

Kun: “who wants to tell him”

lmao, I’m kidding

kind of

anyways, you two are really just going at it

what changes?

you have to go to the dentist and get your molars removed

which means someone has to take you and go pick you up

obviously, Ten was going to do that, considering you two were the closest

so he dropped you off and you had your surgery

so what happened?

welp, your buddy Ten forgot he had a prior engagement and, hence, was unable to pick you up

cue him spamming the groupchat

and Lucas exposing Xiaojun

Lucas: Xiaojun isn’t doing anything Xiaojun: you don’t know that Lucas: I do tho, go pick up (Y/N) Ten: I’ll buy you anything from that green tea cafe you like for a week Xiaojun: deal.

so he came to pick you up, both willingly and unwillingly

and you……. you were more than a hot mess

you were just a mess

you basically were just blacked out that entire time after they gave you the laughing gas and completed the surgery

so you remembered absolutely nothing.

your roommate: “this is what you get for doing drugs”

You: “IT WAS PURELY FOR MEDICINAL USE”

You: “IT’S NOT LIKE I DID CRACK”

either way, your roommate let you know of the situation, taking note of how your enemy had to take you home

which

again

no recollection

your roommate: “he’s fucking hot tho”

You: “ugh, I know”

but that’s also when you decided

Ten is a dead man :)

Ten: “I’M SORRY”

You: “YOU BETTER FUCKING BE”

Ten: “I KNOW”

Ten: “............................................but………………………………….”

Ten: “maybeyoushouldalsothankhimfortakingcareofyou”

You: “sorry not sorry, I’m contemplating murder rn”

Hendery: “what do you call a murder against a friend?”

Kun: “don’t”

Ten:

You:

Hendery: “it’s a homie-cide”

You and Ten: “NOT NOW”

anyways

you knew he was right

so after you calmed down, you went to Xiaojun’s place (thanks to Ten), with some sweets to thank him

Lucas opened the door, let you in, and left to go to the gym with Sicheng

Xiaojun came out of his room, a couple of minutes after, disheveled from his nap

and when he saw you in his living room couch, his eyes widened, darting around to avoid looking at you

You: “hi”

Xiaojun: “hello”

You: “why do you look so scared? I’m not gonna jump you”

he stays quiet, the blush becoming more apparent on his cheeks

You: “Ten told me you took me home after my surgery, so…………………… thanks”

Xiaojun: “he bribed me with pastries”

You: yeah, sounds about right

You: “still”

You: “um, I didn’t know what you would like, so I brought some sweets you can just go through”

Xiaojun: “thanks”

it’s silent for another moment and you consider bolting out from the apartment, Wizards of Waverly Place, Harper-style: “see ya in p.e.!” kind of a thing

but he speaks up once more

Xiaojun: “are you feeling okay now?”

You: “uh, yeah, my jaw still kind of hurts”

You: “but I have meds they prescribed to me for the next month or so”

he decides to stop beating the bush:

Xiaojun: “so do you remember what happened yesterday?”

You: “to be completely honest, no”

Xiaojun: “you… did a lot of things”

You: “what do you mean I did a lot of things”

Xiaojun: “you also said a lot of things too”

You: “..... are these things recorded?”

Xiaojun: “maybe”

Xiaojun: “some”

You: “dELETET HEM”

you actually considered tackling him, but deemed as too Yang-Yang-like

You: “what did I say”

Xiaojun: “I didn’t realize you thought I was handsome”

You: “wait what?”

Xiaojun: “you said, you had a crush on my ‘fine ass’”

You: “you know what? I think I’m gonna pull a Jack and commit suicide, goodbye”

Xiaojun: “ah, ah, ah, you said like, which is… present tense”

You: “semantics”

Xiaojun: “but did you like me at some point?”

You: “does it matter?”

Xiaojun: “yeah, it kind of does”

Xiaojun: “bc even tho we bicker, it’s, like, our thing”

Xiaojun: “plus, you’re kind of cute when you’re threatening to rip off my eyebrows”

You: “I did what?”

Xiaojun: “it’s no different from how you treat me now”

You: “I thought it’s because you don’t like me”

he just kind of shrugs, rubbing his neck rather sheepishly

Xiaojun: “you’ve seen my friends; arguing is our way of showing our affections”

You: “so, you’re saying this is your way of telling me you like me?”

Xiaojun: “I mean………“

Xiaojun: “are you saying you like me?”

You: “are you saying you like me?”

*cue another argument about who likes who*

eventually, he found a way to shut you up

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

cut to Lucas and Sicheng coming back from the gym to you and Xiaojun making out on the couch

Lucas: “NASTY”

Sicheng: “what did we…. miss?”

Ten somewhere: I fucking called it.

anyways

you both decided to date that day

and you two still bicker an insane amount, which includes you nitpicking Xiaojun’s tastes to Xiaojun refusing to delete those videos of you under the laughing gas despite your threats

but, the only difference is, your arguments can end with a kiss

and it always freaks out the guys whenever you do

Donghyuk: “I’m too young to be seeing this monstrosity”

Mark: “ngl, this is nice for them—they’ve stopped arguing”

YangYang: “I weirdly prefer them arguing over them with those sappy eyes tho”

You: “we can hear you”

Chenle: “but when have we ever cared?”

You: “I’m gonna beat your ‘01 liner ass istg—”

Xiaojun: “calm”

oh, you know what’s fun about your relationship?

you two can’t agree on some stuff right?

so whenever you have to decide something, say a movie or dinner, you two just heads-or-tails it

(there’s also this cute app where you put your options on a wheel and let that decide—the amount of times you’ve used that on your dates…… anyways)

most of the time, on these dates, you seem more like an old married couple and it’s super cute

it’s bc you’re already used to your worse sides coming out—the really petty ones, the screaming ones, the ugly ones

ofc these aren’t from serious arguments that occur

(remember folks, it isn’t healthy for you and your partner to always be fighting)

but when serious arguments do occur, you both take time to sit down and talk face-to-face

it’s hard to get into actual arguments with him, especially since he really is understanding and tries to pay attention to the smaller details

Xiaojun: “I like learning more about you”

You: “you can’t just say that kind of shit to me”

like, yeah, he’ll debate with you all night about why he needs to read the words of his book out loud but, by the end of the day, you’ll lay your head in his lap and listen to his voice as you fall asleep

speaking of which, you love listening to him sing to you

he gets a bit embarrassed sometimes about it, but seeing you smile so brightly at him makes him forget about it

because even tho you two bicker about little things, in the end, it just makes you two laugh at one another and how ridiculous you’re being

I almost forgot, so Ten thinks of him pairing you two off right?

so, whenever he does something annoying to either of you, he’ll constantly bring it up

Ten: “I guess this is how you two treat me, your personal cupid—”

Xiaojun: “yes, yes, we are grateful for you”

You: “but it would be nice if you would stop making those annoying sounds”

Ten: “what annoying sounds?”

YangYang: “that’s just you talking”

okay, no, but yeah—the nct boys are glad this rivalry is over because it was really just…. stupid to the core

but also bc you two look super sweet together and seeing you two making each other happy rather than annoyed is adorable

but just bc you two got together doesn’t mean the pettiness isn’t still there

You: “what type of freak sleeps with their eyes opened?”

Xiaojun: “I’m sleeping next to you, of course I need to keep both eyes open”

You: “RUDE”

Xiaojun: “and yet here we are”

You: “son of a bitch”

Xiaojun: “YOUR son of a bitch”

You: “eh, I’ll take it”

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benedictsvestcollection · 4 years ago

Photo

Ever Ever After- A Whiskey x reader Modern Cinderella fic

Rating: T for some swearing mostly!

Warnings: Ummmm.... Mentions of death, fluff, sweetness and stepmom being a bitch.

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: Tomorrow is @absurdthirst‘s birthday so this chapter is dedicated to you my darling! Happy early birthday!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As soon as Jack and Ginger were in the back of the towncar and away from prying eyes, Jack heaved a heavy sigh. “I do not like that woman.” He growled as Ginger began typing away an email to Champ.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Miranda had spoken to you, her own step-daughter. The entire day, he had witnessed you being treated with such disdain and rudeness.

“Your dentist is going to hate you when they find out you’ve been grinding your teeth so much today.” Ginger teased him, spying the way Jack clenched his jaw so much. Mad on your behalf. A woman, he barely knew but already felt innately protective of.

“Who the hell talks to their family like that?” He asked her. “She was nothing but sweet and hardworking all day and they just… Spoke to her like that.”

“Terrible people. They’re terrible people Jack.” Ginger told him simply, knowing he had asked a rhetorical question. But answering him nonetheless.

Jack sighed, knowing she was right. “Do we have anything on the daughters?” He asked her, changing the subject.

Ginger shook her head. “As far as I can tell, they’re just spoiled bitches.” She muttered. “But not aware of what their mom is up to.”

“Like mother, like daughters.” Jack muttered out with a huff.

“You like her.” Ginger stated matter of factly. “And not just in a ‘what a sweet girl’, or ‘she’s part of the mission’ kind of way.” She teased him.

He merely grunted in response and shifted in his seat, readjusting his suit jacket. Glaring at Ginger while she smirked from her phone. She was right and he hated that she was.

“I like her too. Just maybe not in the same way you do.” She continued on, smirk still on her face.

“You done Ging?” He muttered at her grumpily. “We have work to do.”

~~~~~~~~~

You sighed in contentment inhaling your french toast, bacon, eggs and coffee at your favorite diner. You had cleverly booked your stepmother and sisters for a spa weekend. But in reality, it had been for you. A peaceful weekend to yourself with no work to do. So now, you were treating yourself to brunch at your favorite New York diner.

“Well, well, well… Isn’t this a welcome sight for sore eyes.” Came a southern drawl over you. Warm like bourbon and comforting like a worn in fall sweater.

You looked up to see warm brown eyes and a mustache smirk looking down at you in your booth.

“Oh… Hello Mr. Daniels.” You stammered out at him, suddenly even more relieved that your stepmom and sisters weren’t around, let alone didn’t hang out in your area or they’d accuse you of ruining things by simply talking to him.

“Oh please darlin’. Call me Jack. Mr. Daniels makes me feel old.” He grinned at you and slid into the booth across from you and ordered a coffee.

“I um… This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you would come to.” You told him nervously.

“Why? Because I’m the CEO of a distillery?” He teased you. “Darlin’ I was born in Kentucky and went to school in Texas. I’m a cowboy through and through. A diner don’t scare me.”

You blushed. Why was he here? If word got back to your stepmom and sisters… You didn’t want to think about what they’d do.

“I need to go.”

Jack’s hand flashed out and gently took yours. “You have to work on a weekend?” He asked you worried, almost. Like he somehow knew that you worked too much or something.

“No actually, I just… I don’t get weekends usually so I have stuff I wanted to get done is all.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie, you did have things you wanted to do. Laundry, cleaning your apartment and grocery shopping. But mostly, you were afraid you were going to get caught with Jack Daniels and you didn’t need that drama in your life. You had enough with your family.

Jack nodded at you. “I understand, can I at least walk you home?” He asked you as he stood with you.

“I-” You were cut off by your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket. “Son of a bitch… Sorry.” You muttered at him as you scowled at the screen. Seeing your stepmother’s name demanding you answer.

“Yes?” You sighed as you reluctantly answered the phone. Trying to ignore the way Jack was staring at and studying you intently.

“I need you to go upstate and buy pumpkins.” She responded on the other end of the phone.

“Pumpkins? Why?” You asked her with a huff.

“Because it’s fall and I want the offices decorated.” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes at what she thought was a stupid question.

“Okay…” You sighed at her once more. “How many do you want me to get?” You asked her.

“Fifty. I want the office completely decorated for the season.” She told you. “Oh also, maybe get some hay bales too.”

“Fifty?!” You asked her, jaw dropping in shock. Where in the hell were you supposed to put them? Being New York, you didn’t even have a car.

“Stop repeating everything I say and just get there and do it.” She snapped and hung up on you.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered at your phone sarcastically and then tossed it into your purse aggressively. “Well now I do have to work Mr. Daniels.” You grumbled.

“Kind of difficult to not overhear that conversation.” He admitted softly, almost like he felt sorry for you. “You okay?” He asked you gently.

“Yeah, I’m great. I have to give up my Saturday, somehow get upstate. Buy fifty pumpkins in various sizes and some bales of hay and get them all back to the office.” You muttered. “Guess I’m renting a car for the day.”

“Well, she’ll pay for that won’t she?” He asked you, deep down already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you confirm it.

You snorted. “Yeah right. I practically run the company and I’m living in a shitty studio apartment.”

Jack frowned at that. “Well then darlin’. I wouldn’t be a southern gentleman if I didn’t offer to help you. I’ve got my Bronco out front and the day off.” He rumbled in your ear. “And don’t you worry, they won’t find out you were helped.” He promised you as he led you outside to his truck.

“Mr. Daniels I can’t… Ask you to do that.” You insisted as you chewed your bottom lip anxiously.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And please… Call me Jack.” He reminded you as he opened the passenger door for you. “Please, I want to help.”

Honestly, the idea of spending any kind of time with this handsome and charming man was appealing. Plus, you really didn’t feel like spending any of your hard earned money on a rental for a day when you had a truck being offered to you.

“Okay. Thank you… Jack.” You finally relented with a small, shy smile at him as you climbed up into the passenger seat of his truck.

He released his gentle hold on your elbow and smiled at you. “You’re welcome darlin’.” He smiled at you as he moved to the driver’s side and started it up.

An hour later, Jack parked his truck in the gravel parking lot.

“Damn, pumpkin patches sure have changed since I was a kid.” You muttered, taking in the expanse of acreage. An actual pumpkin patch, gift shop, a moonbounce, pony rides and a hay ride.

Jack let out a whistle and casually tossed his arm over your shoulder. “You said it darlin’.” He agreed and led you to the patch.

“Haven’t done this since I was a kid with my dad.” You murmured wistfully.

Jack paused for a split second when you said that. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed your arm gently.

You shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“How uh… How did he die?” He asked gently.

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Got sick suddenly. Doctor’s couldn’t really explain it. First they thought it was the flu because I got sick too. But he uh… Didn’t make it.”

“You both got the flu at the same time?” He asked you, brows furrowed in thought.

“Wasn’t the flu. The only explanation the doctors had was food poisoning.” You mumbled as you both began wandering the patch together.

“But he… Didn’t make it.” He finished the thought you were internalizing.

“And I did.” You mused bitterly.

“Hey now… I won’t have you thinkin’ that way. It ain’t your fault that you both got sick and you didn’t die. I, for one am glad you’re here.”

Tears were falling down your cheeks now. “He was my best friend and now he’s just… Gone.”

Quickly, Jack pulled you over to a set of hay bales and faced you. “Loss is never easy to deal with darlin’. But you don’t have to grieve alone.” He reassured you, thumbs gently rubbing the inside of your wrists.

“You’ve met my stepmom and sisters… Right?” You asked him with a garbled laugh.

“Look at you, makin’ jokes.” He grinned at you before he instinctively leaned forward to kiss your temple.

You froze at the sweet gesture, surrounded by his overwhelming scent before you gave in and sank into his arms. For the first time in over a year, you felt safe with someone. Actually cared for. “Thank you… Jack.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Anytime darlin’.” He promised you. “Now… I do believe that we have pumpkins and hay bales to blow on, your stepmother’s money.” He teased you.

You laughed again and nodded at him. “Yeah… Okay.”

“Now, you dry your eyes. I’ll go get a wagon for all these pumpkins we have to buy.”

You nodded and started to browse the pumpkins as Jack went to get a wagon to tote around.

“Ginger, I need you to look into the medical records or her and her father. Somethin’s off here.” Jack said over the phone.

“It is awfully convenient that they both got sick and in the hospital. While the father died.” She admitted on the other end of the phone.

“Not to mention that the stepmom took control of the empire after he died and she was deathly ill in the hospital.” He growled out.

“Easy there cowboy. Now that we’re here we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Ginger soothed him. “Now go back to your pumpkin date. I’ll look into this.”

“Sorry about that darlin’. Was just informin’ Ginger that I wouldn’t be available the rest of the day.” He told you with a smile.

“It’s okay.” You told him with a shy smile and placed two pumpkins in the wagon.

The rest of the day proceeded with Jack dutifully toting the wagon around for you. Emptying it into his truck as it got full and they were paid. You bought hay bales, a scarecrow for the reception area and a bushel of apples.

“You sure do love fall darlin’.” He teased you as you hopped into his truck and sighed.

“I just... Figured since I was here, the apples are for baking and a couple of pumpkins for my place.” You blushed and shrugged.

It was after nine by the time Jack finally pulled back in front of your building. They had dropped off most of the supplies at the office.

“Let me help you get this upstairs.” He insisted. “Otherwise you’re going to have to make two trips with this basket of apples and both your pumpkins.”

“Jack I-” You started, not wanting him to do more for you than he already had.

“Please… There’s somethin’ I feel like I need to tell you.” He explained to you gently. “Preferably upstairs and not on a New York street.”

“Tell me… What?” You asked him anxiously.

“It’s alright. Let’s just get upstairs.” He soothed you.

Nervously, you led the way into your small apartment and set your pumpkins down on your kitchen counter. “What… Uh… What’s going on?” You asked him.

Jack set the basket of apples down next to your pumpkins and placed his hand on your back. “Let’s sit down.” He suggested.

“Jack I… What’s wrong?” You asked him, hands twisting together anxiously.

“I’m not exactly the CEO of the Statesman distillery.” He told you simply, staring at you.

“You’re… What?” You asked him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Statesman is an independent intelligence agency and I work for them.” He explained to you. “I’m a spy.”

“You’re a what?” You repeated to him.

“I know this is difficult to absorb.” He explained to you. “I’m investigatin’ your stepmom’s dealin’ with the company.”

“Oh so… You were spending time with me for a… Mission?” You asked him.

“It started off like that, but… You’re very sweet and I’m lookin’ out for you.” He explained. “I’m tryin’ to help you. But I need your help too, if you’re willin’ to help me.”

“Help you how?” You asked softly.

Jack moved closer to you. “I need someone inside the company, and you’re perfect.”

You knew he meant for helping him but, him calling you perfect made you blush. “Perfect how?”

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into doin’ somethin’ without you thinkin’ or sleepin’ on it.” He explained softly, as he rubbed your wrists softly. “Why don’t you sleep on it and you call me tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that might be best. I uh… Don’t want my family to find out about this.” You explained nervously.

“I completely understand darlin’. You think on it, and let me know. Alright? No pressure, I promise.”

You practically melted as he ran his knuckles gently along your cheekbone. You nodded at him and smiled shyly at him. “Okay.”

“Good night darlin’.” He murmured in your ear.

“Good night Jack.” You returned as he finally departed your apartment and you considered his news and offer to you.

Tag list:

@absurdthirst, @spacegayofficial, @lilangeldevil006, @manda-but-not-lorian, @emmymarierivia, @din-djarin-protection-squad, @nope-itsnopi, @gothgirl1362-blog, @deafspaceperson, @auty-ren, @luminescentlily, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @babe-dont, @dreamgirl-6781-blog, @katialvi, @zoe-rachel-crisp, @cryptkeepersoul, @jaa1682-27, @katheriner1999, @promiscuoussatan, @paintballkid711, @marvelranger, @owljumper, @girlwithanewplan, @iellarenuodolorian, @lost-girl-inc, @f0rever15elf, @mrschiltoncat, @hillarymurray4, @seejayyou

Sorry some of my tags aren’t fully working! XOXO

#My writing #Pedro Pascal #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Whiskey x reader #Kingsman fic

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mldrgrl · 4 years ago

Note

prompt: Mulder and Scully being competitive with each other over silly things - Jeopardy? solving the case before the end of an episode of some sort of forensic crime show? how many slices of pizza they can eat? a board game? etc.

Loved this one, Anon, thank you so much. And I was in the mood to whip up something humorous. Went to sleep last night thinking about it.

Half and Half

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG

“I’m dying to get out of this suit,” Scully says. “Give me ten minutes and then we can go through the report?”

“I’ll leave the connecting door unlocked,” Mulder says as they exit their rental car and head to the doors to their rooms. “Come over when you’re done and we’ll order in.”

She sighs in relief as she kicks off her heels at the door. She tosses her blazer to the side, unbuttons her shirt, and loosens her skirt. She clips her hair back, washes her face, and changes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

File folders under her arm, she taps lightly on the connecting door before she pushes it open. Mulder is sitting at the edge of the bed, tie off and buttons undone at the neck. His shirtsleeves are rolled up and he’s yelling at the TV.

“What is Mork & Mindy!” he yells. “Mork and Mindy, you idiots. Everyone knows ‘nanu nanu.’”

“We were looking for, ‘What is Mork & Mindy?’” Alex Trebeck says.

“Obviously,” Mulder says. “How did you people even get on the show?”

“What are you doing?” Scully asks.

“Playing Jeopardy.”

“TV Catchphrases for $400, Alex.”

“Book ‘em, Danno.”

“What is Hawaii 5-0,” Mulder yells, just as Scully says, “Hawaii 5-0.”

Mulder makes the sound of a buzzer. “You have to answer in the form of a question, Scully, or it doesn’t count.”

“I still knew the answer.”

“You mean, the question.”

“Do you want to debate the semantics of Jeopardy or go over the reports?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Let’s try Shakespeare Who Said it? for $200.”

“Double double, toil and trouble.”

“Who are the witches?” Mulder answers.

“Who are the three witches of Macbeth,” Scully says at the same time.

“Who is Macbeth?” answers the first contestant to ring in.

“Oh, come on,” Scully says. “You can’t be that dumb.”

“Right?”

“Not quite what we’re looking for,” Alex answers. Finally, the second contestant answers correctly.

“Shakespeare Who Said It for $300.”

“I prithee daughter do not make me mad.”

“Baptista, maybe,” Mulder answers. “Who is Baptista?”

“No, who is King Lear?” Scully disagrees.

“Who is King Lear?”

“Who is, King Lear. Act 2, scene 4, referring to Goneril. And that will lead us to our first commercial break. More to come after these words from our sponsors.”

“I should’ve known that one,” Mulder says, scooting over to make room for Scully on the bed. “$600 to $500, I’m winning.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You lost Hawaii 5-0 to incorrect phrasing.”

“You didn’t establish the rules. $600 to $900, I’m winning.”

“I didn’t have to establish anything, those are the inherent rules of Jeopardy. Everybody knows that.”

“Mulder, I’m here to go over these reports,” Scully answers, holding up the file folders that have been tucked under her arm the whole time. She is still standing.

“How about a little wager?”

“On what?”

“Winner orders the pizza of their choice, loser pays.”

“Come on, Mulder.”

“You don’t think you can beat me?”

“No, I know I can beat you. I just want to get this review done so I can go to bed.”

“Scully, it’s 7 o’clock. The review can wait. Unless you’re just chicken.”

“Very mature.”

“Triple dog dare you?”

Scully held her hand out as though to shake Mulder’s. “We start with a clean slate going in from the commercial and we make our own wagers on Double Jeopardy questions.”

“I’ll keep score!” Mulder leaves Scully’s handshake hanging in the breeze and jumps up to grab the complimentary pad of paper and pen on the motel desk, which she snatches from him as soon as he comes back to sit down.

“I’ll keep score,” she says.

“You are the math geek.”

They sit through contestant bios and Alex Trebek’s vaguely sarcastic comments on the tidbits they’ve chosen to share with the audience. When the game starts back up again, there are two answers left in Shakespeare Who Said It? and every answer available in Civil War Nicknames, The Old West, and American Folklore.

Unsurprisingly, Mulder dominates the folklore category, but they tie for two answers. They both struggle with The Old West more than Civil War Nicknames, but the answers there are easier to decipher within the clues. Mulder is up $700 when the first Daily Double comes up in The Old West.

“$200,” Scully says. “I already don’t even want to know the answer.”

“$500,” Mulder answers.

“Suffering from tuberculosis and alcoholism, this dentist turned gunslinger died in a sanitarium at the age of 36.”

“Who is Doc Holliday,” Scully answers.

“Who is Bat Master..dammit!” Mulder replies just a beat behind her.

“You should’ve known that one.”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head. What’s the damage?”

“We’re tied.”

“All right, next round, it’s getting serious.”

“Prepare to pay for a large vegetarian with extra olives.”

“Ugh, vegetables on pizza is the antithesis to the point of pizza.”

“And what is the point of pizza?”

“All the pepperoni you can handle and then add in some sausage for good measure.”

“You’re a heart attack waiting to happen, Mulder. When was the last time you had your cholesterol checked?”

“In May, actually. Fit as a fiddle. Here we go, round 2.”

“...categories are: Before & After, Science, Word Origins, Potpourri, The Body Human, and finally, Astronomy. ”

The contestants seem fixated on Potpourri and Before & After, to Mulder’s relief. He isn’t ready for Scully to completely smoke him in the Science and The Body Human categories. He figures if he can do well enough in the first two, he might be able to hold firm and maybe they might get to Astronomy where he can make a comeback. Sure enough, she responds so quickly in the first two Science answers he can’t even get a word out.

“Born this year, a sheep named this introduced the world to cloning.”

“Dolly!” Mulder yells, too excited about knowing a Science question he forgets to phrase it properly.

“Who is Dolly,” Scully corrects.

“Dammit!”

“Your rules.”

“I know, I know. Still, dammit.”

Blessedly, the contestants leave Science and migrate to Astronomy and since the first answer is the planet nicknamed The Red Planet, a Jeopardy equivalent of low-hanging fruit, they stick with it. The first Daily Double of the 2nd round hits them at the $800 question in Astronomy.

“I’m up by $1,600,” Scully says. “You have $3,900.”

“I’m going to make it a true Daily Double.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“$600,” Scully says, after a few moments hesitation.

Mulder worries his bottom lip with his teeth and waits for the answer to come.

“This spiral galaxy is named for an Ethiopian princess in Greek Mythology.”

“What is Andromeda!” They both yell.

Mulder realizes he’s sweating after the last question and even though it paid off, he vows not to make that kind of gamble again. Scully berates herself for not being more confident in her astronomy knowledge as she now trails Mulder by $1,700, which may or may not be easy to recover from.

Time runs out before all the clues are revealed and the 2nd Daily Double is never found. By final Jeopardy, they’re nearly neck and neck, with Mulder at $9,100 and Scully at $8,500.

“The final category is: Computers.”

“Good thing The Gunmen aren’t here,” Mulder says. “Gimme one of those sheets of paper and we can write our wagers and guesses like the others.”

Scully rips off a piece of paper and they both take nearly all of the commercial break to come up with their wagers. Scully folds her paper in half with the wager face down. Mulder turns his over and places it on the bed.

“And here we go with the final answer. Born in 1815, this daughter of a famous poet published an algorithm for a mechanical calculator and is believed by some to be the first ever computer programmer.”

Mulder writes his answer immediately and Scully taps her pen against her teeth as the final Jeopardy music winds down. She finally picks up her paper and memorializes her guess before the final note.

“Whatcha got?” Mulder asks.

“I want to see their answers first,” Scully replies.

Mulder bounces his knee in anticipation. The contestant in 3rd place answers incorrectly with Dora Wordsworth, but only wagered $1.

“I hate when they do that,�� Scully says. “It’s not The Price is Right.”

“Listen, if the category was Nuclear Physics, I might only be waging $1 as well.”

“Too bad it wasn’t.”

The contestant in 2nd place also answers incorrectly with “Who is ____?” and ends up with $4500. Mulder shakes his head.

“At least put something,” he says.

“Seriously,” Scully agrees.

“And now Judith, our three day champion, currently in the lead with $13,800. What did she guess? Who is Ada Lovelace? Daughter of Lord Byron, known for her work on Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine, August Ada King, Countess of Lovelace, or Ada Lovelace. And how much did Judith wager? $7,000, bringing her three day total to $65,941.”

“Alright, Scully, moment of truth.”

“Count of three?” she asks.

“Is that one, two, reveal? Or one, two, three, reveal?”

“One, two, reveal.”

“Okay. One, two…”

They both turn their papers around. Both answered Who is Ada Lovelace? They both grin.

“Frohike would be so tickled with your familiarity with the mother of computer programming,” Mulder says.

“Yeah? How does he feel about your familiarity with her?”

“Pretty jealous, actually.”

“What was your wager?”

Mulder turns over the paper again to show her. “$3,000. You?”

Scully bites her lip a little and then flips the fold of her paper for Mulder to see. “$8,000.”

“$8,000!”

“Go big or go home, right?”

“Damn, Scully. You’re a monster. In a good way, obviously. But, damn. So, I guess that vegetarian is on me.”

“Extra olives.”

“With extra olives.” He grimaces and gets up to grab the Yellow Pages in the nightstand.

Scully opens up her file folders and begins sorting the reports for review across the end of Mulder’s bed as he searches for a pizza parlor. He’s on the phone fairly quickly after browsing the phone book.

“Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery,” Mulder says. “A large. Vegetarian.”

“Half vegetarian,” Scully interrupts without looking up. “Half pepperoni and sausage.”

“Sorry, half vegetarian, half pepperoni and sausage. Extra olives on the vegetarian side, please. Yeah, I’ll hold.” Mulder drops the phone to his shoulder while hold music plays and smiles slightly. “Scully, you interested in a rematch tomorrow night?”

“Depends on how interested you are in buying another pizza.”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #humor #so competitive #Anonymous

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thestyleswritings · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

"Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

Or - The one where you meet Harry at the dentist’s office and things get sticky.

(4.3K)

Warnings: Language, Smut

"You know you have to go to the dentist eventually, right?" Your friend Maggie chastises, fully aware of how truly dental-phobic you are and have always been.

"I understand... But what if I just floss really well? Do I still have to go? Surely it cancels out." You try to negotiate with her, even though you know you'll just end up in the chair either way.

"You're ridiculous, you know. Your appointment is at 4 and you'll be there whether you like it or not." Maggie rolls her eyes at you, turning her attention back to the flatscreen adorning the wall in her living room.

"Think of it this way," she starts, sipping the iced coffee she had all but forgotten about, "the hygienist might be really hot."

"Yeah, the 50-year-old woman that cleans my teeth is a dime." You snort, gathering your coat and bag before standing.

"Anyways, I'd better be off. Wouldn't want to be late to my execution." You say over your shoulder, already halfway to the door. You only hear a scoff, but you assume if you turned to face your friend, you would've seen her roll her eyes at your dramatic tendencies.

—

The train ride to the dentist's office did not take nearly as long as you'd hoped it would, leaving you with 30 minutes to spare before 4 came around. You saw this as either an opportunity to go window shopping very quickly or to sit in the waiting room to try and get comfortable with the atmosphere. You knew it was a bit ridiculous to be afraid to go to the dentist alone at the age of 21, but it was a legitimate fear for you! You'd been knicked as a child one too many times and it stuck with you ever since.

By the time you decided to go upstairs, the waiting room was full of children, adults and elderly people. You didn't even know where to start looking for a seat. Your eyes scanned for a seat that wasn't directly next to someone, especially not the mum with vomit on the shoulder of her shirt, but alas there was no such luck. The only seat that semi appealed to you was directly next to a young man with messy brown hair - probably not far off your age - and he was so handsome, it made you nervous. He wore tan corduroy pants that were almost reminiscent of bellbottoms, a baby blue and white pinstriped button-up with the sleeves about a quarter of the way rolled up beneath a navy coloured cotton sweater vest that had what appeared to be sheep laced on the torso. The coat you assumed he wore here was shoved between himself and the armrest, one long sleeve perched on the chair aside him. He wore glasses low on the bridge of his nose, legs crossed and brows furrowed as he read, idle hand resting atop one of his black Vans. You squinted to see the cover of the book, seeing that it was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, one of your favourites. You wonder if it's also one of his, or if he's a first-time reader, but the thought is fleeting; your subconscious prying cut off by movement from the subject.

He could probably feel your gaze on his figure, causing his eyes to snap up from the book perched in his lap to lock directly with your own. It's almost like he could feel how uncomfortable you were, standing off to the side next to the coat rack and magazine table. Almost like he couldn't help himself from asking you to sit down wordlessly by moving his long dark coat from drooping onto the seat beside his very own, then faintly nodding to it.

You could feel your throat swell as you walked to him, praying to any god willing to listen that you wouldn't trip on your own feet or snag your knee on the coffee table. You were notorious for being a bit clumsy. You noticed, as you got closer, the intensity of his stare. The green of his eyes nearly causing your breath to catch at the back of your throat.

Taking a seat, you move your canvas bag to your lap before slightly facing him. You didn't know the proper etiquette for things like this. Should you have just ignored him after you sat, or do you carry on with a conversation? You raise your gaze once again to look him in the eyes, and unlike moments earlier, he had already been looking at you. Your bottom lip gets caught beneath your upper front teeth, biting the soft flesh to keep in a gasp. He was truly a specimen up close, and you wanted nothing more at that moment than the ability to freeze time, just to get a longer look at him without being caught.

"Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

He must know how that sounded.

"I'm uh, I'm just here for a cleaning and some x-rays." You wince at the words that pass your lips, cringing at the thought that soon someone would come and call your name, leading you into that room which has a smell you nary forget.

The boy laughs, clearly both hearing and seeing your distaste at the thought. You forego being annoyed at his mocking and leap straight to intrigue. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the faint scrunch of his nose, the way his head tilted just the slightest bit backwards. It all pulled you in and refused to let you go.

"Tha's not too bad, y'know. I have to get one of my teeth drilled into." He says like it's just a minor inconvenience. You can practically feel the blood drain from your face. Drill!? Like a fucking construction site!?

He laughs again, this time shaking his hair away from his eyes afterwards. "I have a cavity. I told you, the sweet tooth gets me into trouble." He tells you, and you could swear he winked.

"I thought you were using a pun as a pickup line." You say before you can stop yourself, preparing yourself for him to look back at you like you were some delusional weirdo.

"It might've had a dual purpose, yeah." He smirks, a deep dimple making itself known on the side of his face. As if he could become more attractive. It almost makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Alright. So, the book. You enjoying it? It's one of my favourites." You tell him, gesturing towards the book, now closed.

"Weird way to phrase it. The book is kinda dark, wouldn't you say?" He counters, resting his elbow on his knee before placing his palm on his face. Fully engaging you in conversation now.

"Hell yeah. But it's so beautifully written and so gripping. Is this your first read?" You wonder aloud.

"I keep it on rotation. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion and Marie Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up seem to wind up in that rotation too. Sometimes I throw in Love Is A Mixtape from Rob Sheffield if I'm feeling particularly mushy. You?" He tugs his lip in thought, awaiting your reply.

"I love Marie Kondo. She's the only reason I keep my apartment tidy. I love basically any book, but I keep It's Kind of A Funny Story on my bedside table at all times. I'm drawing a blank right now, but my bookshelf gets proper attention, I swear." You laugh, triggering his own to bubble up from his throat.

"So wha's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, and you nearly don't tell him. The sound of the nickname falling from his lips is too tempting to ignore.

"Mhm... You first." You challenge, squinting as if daring him to inquire again before answering you.

"M'Harry. Friends call me H. You can call me when I get outta here at 5:30 to have coffee at my place." He smiles. You'd usually get up and sit somewhere else, with the puke stained mum for instance, but your legs won't allow it. And why should they? What's the problem with entertaining this pretty, pretty man?

"I preferred the sweet tooth comment, personally, but I won't prosecute you for that stinker." Playfully tutting before actually telling him your name. He says it under his breath as if testing the way it felt on his tongue before smiling again.

“Well, I wasn’t joking, I’d actually like to have you over for coffee if you’d like. I promise I’m not a weird pervert. I can even tell my roommate to come home early if it makes you feel better.” Harry fumbled with his words, further endearing you. You snort a laugh at his phrasing before nodding your head.

“You don’t have to call your roommate, I’m sure you’re not a murderer. Anyway, my friend has my location on so she’ll know exactly where to send the cops in the event I turn up missing.” You gest, nudging his forearm with your elbow.

—

You didn't know how you'd ended up in this situation. In the hour and a half it took for Harry's appointment to be completed, you walked around aimlessly talking to Maggie- or frantically shouting if you asked Maggie- about what steps to take from here. You had actually been so caught up in this whole "date" ordeal that the teeth cleaning breezed by. She snorted a laugh at your obvious hesitation, knowing this wasn't very "you". You weren't usually the type to even accept compliments, but here you were, ready to risk it all for a man you'd met a mere 120 minutes ago.

"But what if he's a player? What do I do then?" You'd asked, answered yet again with a snort. "You fuck him and forget it. It happens all the time. It's just a bit of good fun." Maggie reassured you. To her, a casual 6 o'clock shag was nothing out of the ordinary. Pacing around Fifth Avenue, you awaited a text. A simple "hey" to set your anxieties through the roof. Anything. You just wanted to be out of your misery already. It wasn't like you'd never done this before, or even that you'd only done it a handful of times, but something about the prospect of hooking up with a boy from your dentist's office felt strange. Did people meet their soul mates this way, or was this really an odd thing? Don't people usually meet in clubs and bars? There's hardly anything sexy about having your teeth scraped and drilled into. Maybe you could spin an innuendo out of that if you tried. The moment your phone buzzed, you couldn't help the squeal that passed your lips.

H 127 W4th Street, Apartment 3F

—

You'd only gone over for a coffee and a chat, honestly. So how you ended up with Harry's lips attached to your neck, you hadn't the fuzziest clue. If you were being honest, it was more on you than him.

"So you've got a sweet tooth." You say, smirking from behind the brim of the mug as you watched him take a sip from his own. "Ah, the rumours are true." He tuts, taking a sip of the black coffee.

"But your coffee is black, and you didn't put any sugar in it." You point out, deadpan.

"Doesn't mean I'm not naughty sometimes." He's talking about the sugar, you know he is. But his eyes are telling you he wants to go further into the discussion. Taunting, almost.

"Prove it."

So that's how you'd ended up here, really. With your fists scrunching up his baggy striped shirt, both of your breath becoming shallower and shallower as your lips smacked together. He had taken off the vest before you'd arrived, you noticed in your slight haze. His kisses trailed from your lips to your cheek, from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. Each touch of his wet lips leaving a lingering buzz to your skin. He pulled away from your neck momentarily, breathing heavily before biting onto his own bottom lip.

"You wanna...?" Harry trailed off, chest rising and falling noticeably, lips shining under his dim room light. You saw his eyes flick towards a door to the left of you both. You could feel your heart drop to your stomach, or rather, beneath your bellybutton. You know the feeling well. At that moment, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Who's to say this wasn't the time to sew your wild oats, so to speak?

"You asking if I want a shag?" You smirk back at him. He really wasn't as scary as he seemed at first. He actually seemed to be your equal; nervously navigating life with a bit of sarcasm and a dash of wit.

"You're mad. But yes." Harry laughs in bemusement. Perhaps he had pegged you for shier than you appeared now. Not that he'd complain.

The two of you stand, Harry quickly grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles before pulling you towards the closed door.

"I er- obviously wasn't expecting a bird over after the doctors visit, so my rooms in shambles at the moment, sorry." He admits sheepishly. You just raised one shoulder in a shrug in response, giggling at the way his cheeks dusted rosy pink and the way he pronounced the word obviously. Obvioushry.

Stepping inside, you see that he was massively overexaggerating. There were a few fun coloured tops on the ground in a heap, accompanied by another small pile of trousers and jeans. Clearly, he'd meant to do the washing up when he came home, but not everything always goes according to plan. You certainly didn't expect this either.

Your thoughts are instantly placed aside as you felt two strong hands on either of your hips and the steady stream of breath upon your neck, soft lips dragging along the surface there. You roll your head to the side to grant him more of a canvas to paint his wet kisses, subtly pushing your behind into him. The groan that vibrates your skin tells you that he felt it. More gracefully than you'd ever be able to manage, your top is removed from your body by the man behind you in a flash.

"Le's get comfortable, yeah? You'll be here a while." The gruff tone of his voice so near to your ear excites you, sending a shiver down the column of your spine. As you sit on his bed, you raise your gaze to observe him. A tall, gangly thing, but somehow solid and muscular simultaneously. His nimble fingers are quick to undo the buttons of the shirt adorning his torso, revealing intricate artwork penned on his skin. From where you sat, you could see two birds, a butterfly and a birdcage. You wondered what moved him to get these particular pieces.

"You'll have to excuse me if 'm a bit rubbish, it's been ages," Harry laughs pathetically, capturing his bottom lip once again beneath his endearingly large front teeth. You don't even get a moment to react as he lunges forth, cementing your lips together in a harsh kiss that does little to undo the ball of tension you've felt building since you'd arrived. You feel the weight of his groin pressed against your own, slowly rocking back and forth, side to side. The pressure is delicious and you can't remember the last time you'd felt this exhilarated thanks to another person.

His lips detach from your own again, opting to kiss your exposed chest instead, grabbing the cup of your bra before looking to you with pleading eyes. Begging to see you in nothing but his embrace. The granting nod of your head is slight, but he notices. He pulls the cup down with no trouble, laying the thick of his tongue against your areola, lapping it around the area like he was trying to lick up all the frosting from a cupcake.

You felt dizzy as he began to suck on it, a moan being ripped from the pit of your chest. The noise seemed to spur Harry on, biting down softly before kissing down from your chest to your midsection, only stopping to peer up at you. Making sure you were still all in and just as eager as he was. The rational part of your brain knew where he was trailing his kisses. You knew he fully intended to put his mouth to good use, but it didn't stop your mind from the nervous thoughts it was producing.

"You want me to prove I've got a sweet tooth, angel? I'll prove it to ya," Harry says, breath shallow in pure excitement. If the situation weren't so filthy, you'd think it wholesome. A kiss is pressed to your upper thigh, causing your muscles to clench and your breathing to halt. You could feel each breath that passed through his nostrils, washing over the delicate plush skin it hit.

Harry took not a second to prepare for you, instead just peeling the pink lace from your behind and tossing them to the corner of his room. He stopped your legs from closing, taking a moment to peer between your legs where you were no doubt dripping for him. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so eager, but from the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken, you can tell he may not mind it.

"Looks sweet, y'know," he breathes, warm breath now coating you in the most sinfully delightful way. You look down at him fast enough to catch his tongue leave his mouth to find your centre, immediately causing your body to tense. He started slowly at first, giving you a deep kiss between your legs before beginning to stroke his tongue against your clit in quick succession. It was mind-blowing, how quickly you felt yourself unravel. Your eyes wanted to clench shut desperately, but your mind wouldn't allow it. You couldn't possibly tear your eyes from the sight of the lower half of Harry's face pressed flat against your aching cunt, licking sucking and nibbling to his heart's content. His strong hands gripping your hips in an attempt to steady your rocking body. Your moans picked up with his rhythm, hand sneaking down to grasp his long locks between your fingers.

"Harry, ungh, I'm gonna, uh! Fuck," you cried, tried warning him of your imminent end, but your voice just wouldn't allow it. You could faintly feel Harry moving the mattress with his quick ruts to the bed in search of some form of release, groaning and moaning against your sensitive skin.

"C'mon then, lovie. Tastes so good, want more," He coaxes, voice deeper than it had been when he'd spoken earlier. He shook his tongue against you, releasing one of his hands from your hip to slide a finger into you, curving once he'd buried it as far as you'd permit. He removed it before twirling it back in, swivelling it in a circular motion and repeating. The combination of his wicked tongue, finger and moans had you coming to your end and had Harry lapping it up like a dog in heat.

"God! Harry," You moaned loudly, holding tighter onto his hair. You knew you ought to ease up a bit, but he continued driving his finger in and out of you, nearly making you lose your mind. He was groaning against you, tongue never letting up until you'd finally had enough, pulling your legs together and pushing his head away.

"Told ya I have a sweet tooth. I reckon I'll have you over at least once a week, if you'll let me." He smirks cheekily from the end of the bed, swiping the back of his hand across his chin to rid himself of your slick. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Instead of speaking, you reach down to grab at his shoulder, weakly attempting to pull him up the bed. He chuckles at your feeble try, accommodating you by dragging himself up to your face, kissing your nose gingerly.

"Please Harry, I-" You didn't want to seem desperate, but at the moment, you felt terribly empty and you wanted him to just get on with it. You could feel the heavy length of him sat right on your clit, the corduroy material of his pants giving a certain friction that was fulfilling, but not entirely.

"M' mouth wasn't enough, pet? Want more? Want me to stuff ya full?" He murmurs the filthy words against your skin, nipping at it every once in a while. You nod so vigorously he's afraid your head will fall to the ground. With another deep chuckle, he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he reaches to his bedside table for a condom.

"Sure about this? I can just wank off if you don't wanna," Harry reassures her, fidgeting with the foil packaging. You can't help but press a firm kiss to the beauty mark by his lip, giggling at his words.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Don't make me beg for it." You plead, fully aware that you'd beg in a heartbeat if it meant you could see this pretty boy in such a vulnerable state. He didn't have to know that, though.

He nodded before unwrapping the plastic sheath, unravelling it on himself before giving himself a few purposeful tugs. The tension of his bicep and the soft grunts causing you to ache for him. He guides himself down to where he knows you're ready to take him, locking eyes with yours once more before shoving his hips forward. He didn't stop until he was bottomed out, heavy balls resting atop your behind. The initial push had you both reeling; clenched eyes and furrowed brows as you both adjusted to the new feeling. You'd never been with anyone bigger, and he could've sworn he'd never felt such a warm, wet, inviting cunt in his life. He could've blown his load right then.

"God, princess. You've got the tightest little pussy, haven't you?" He was egging you on, wanting you to become more vocal. Dying to hear the strain in your voice, fully fucked out. You whimper in reply, jutting your hips up into his to get him to move. Your motion caught him off guard, causing the muscles in his stomach to become taught as he groaned.

"Gotta warn a lad if you're gonna move, lovie. Nearly nutted off." Harry breathed a laugh before pulling his hips back halfway, slowly inching himself back in. You'd never felt such pleasure from such minimal movement, but the way he was digging into you had you breathless in no time.

"Good, so so good," you panted out, gripping his shoulders tightly as if you'd float away otherwise. Both of your bodies were working together like a well-manufactured machine, pushing and pulling in the best ways.

"Yeah? You like it slow, then? Like it when you can feel me here?" Harry boasted, pressing his large palm on your tummy just below your belly button. The next thrust he delivered made you scream out involuntarily, backing up towards the top of the bed. You hadn't expected to feel him brush against the palm of his own hand, but the added pressure set you off, rolling your eyes backwards and crying out in pure bliss.

"Fuck, keep sayin' my name, lovie. Neighbours'll hear me giving you a proper fucking shag," He groaned, picking up the pace minutely, holding onto your hip with his free hand. "Don't run from it, darlin, take me. Fucking feel me," you could tell he was losing himself, slowly beginning to babble incoherently. You felt a surge of arousal at the fact you had this stranger in such a state.

"Harry, I'm gonna fucking come again," you moaned loudly, upon his request but mainly because you really couldn't help yourself. Your moans were becoming higher pitched and more frequent, and you could tell it was feeding Harry's ego very well, fueling his own end.

"Yeah? G'na come for me again? G'na let me feel it?" He grunted, bottoming out and swivelling his pelvis atop your own, pubis rubbing against your already overstimulated clit. That, in combination with his gruff voice and the sweat dripping off his own body onto yours, finished you off, clenching your core down onto his stiff prick deep within you, throwing your head back in defeat. You let the overwhelming pleasure course through your veins, bucking your hips blindly into his and mutter his name repeatedly.

Seeing your beautiful face screwed up in pleasure whilst you whined and moaned that he was so good really did Harry in. In fact, a particularly filthy cry of his name is what did it for Harry, spewing all the spunk he was worth into the latex. His body folded, narrowly missing your body as he collapsed onto his Queen sized mattress, a sweaty and exhausted mess.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to catch your breath before either of you spoke. You thought he may never say anything, but as he lifted his head from your breasts to make eye contact with you, you smirked.

"Think I can convince you to stay the night?" He asked dreamily, a glint in his eye. And really, how could you refuse?

This is my first published work, so please be kind to her!! I worked on it for quite a while, so feedback is always appreciated!

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles AU #Harry Styles Smut #Harry Styles Fic #HS #1DFF #1D FanFic #masterlist #mobile masterlist

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larryfanficcatalog · 4 years ago

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Given A Chance (174k)

Summary: Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.

And Then A Bit (159k)

Summary: Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

To The Ends Of The Earth (68k)

Summary: During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Still I Call It Magic (15k)

Summary: harry and louis before and after concerts throughout the last 4 years.

It Goes, It’s Golden (151k)

Summary: Harry and Louis broke under the strain of it all and now, years on, there's a chance to put all the pieces back together. Set in early April 2015 all the way through to October. Written in Harry and Louis' perspectives, alternating every chapter.

Call Unanswered (249k)

Summary: The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

When We Were Younger (53k)

Summary: In where you get to see small glimpses of Harry and Louis' life together through the years, first through the eyes of others and eventually their own, as their life keeps spinning madly around them.

Love Is A Word (You Gave It A Name) (21k)

Summary: it's christmas. in between snowman building, tree shopping, and ill-advised skating on a frozen lake, louis and harry get ready to take the most important step of their lives.

They Know (7k)

Summary: The start of Harry and Louis' relationship from the other boys' point of view.

Happy To Be Here (70k)

Summary: The weeks spanning October 2012 - January 2013 are a rollercoaster for Harry and Louis. There's shows to play, an album to promote, publicity stunts to be acted out...and several new tattoos to be inked. Throughout it all, the boys focus on the most important thing in their lives - their relationship.

Who Knew (130k)

Summary: Louis cheats on Harry and gets a girl pregnant

The Winner Takes It all (6k)

Summary: Harry wears only his purple boa, and Louis make good use of the other two.

Stop The World (‘Cause I Wanna Get Off With You) (12k)

Summary: Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

The Dark And The Dentist (66k)

Summary: “I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Always Come Back To You (29k)

Summary: “I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones. Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

Gravity Pulls On You And Me (4k)

Summary: Having to hide his relationship isn't easy. Harry knows it's the price he has to pay to be able to be in One Direction and still be with Louis. Keeping his love a secret is slowly starting to upset him more and more. One night, he reaches his breaking point.

Bigger Than Life (49k)

Summary: “Boybander Harry Styles spotted leaving West Hollywood joined hand in hand with new beau, Xander Ritz”

His heart drops in his chest as he scrolls down, ignoring the short irrelevant article and looking desperately for a picture. Sure enough, there’s pap shots of Harry and Xander, walking hand in hand, looking drunk and cheerful and together.

And that’s—that’s really not what Louis was expecting at all.

Perfect (8k)

Summary: Harry and Louis write Perfect.

If You Say Run (I’ll Run With You) (4k)

Summary: an interpretation of what happened behind the scenes of One Direction's final performance before the hiatus.

I Want To Be So Complete I Could Light A Whole City (3k)

Summary: Harry and Louis have a weekend together before Louis is back in the States and Harry is set to jet off to Jamaica to start recording his album. Harry's love for Louis runs so deep he might just suffocate.

Rainy Days In The Sun (5k)

Summary: It's not always perfect, but it's them. A collection of scenes.

A Few Of My Favorite Things (8k)

Summary: Harry and Louis do cat sitting.

The Ways We Fight (10k)

Summary: How Harry and Louis learn to disagree with each other.

Of Love And Ice Cream (2k)

Summary: A little look into a very hot day in LA. Harry and Louis are hot, eat ice cream and, as always, love each other.

Sugar Pie, Honey Punch (2k)

Summary: Harry is baking and Louis is not helping.

You’re My Light (2k)

Summary: Harry arrives at their home in LA a day after Louis and finds him smoking on the balcony.

Go And Ride With Me, Get High With Me (2k)

Summary: harry and louis smoke before the apple music festival

#larry #larry stylinson #larry stylinson fanfiction #one direction #harry styles #louis tomilson #zayn malik #niall horan #liam payne

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magnetictapedatastorage · 4 years ago

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I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.

Full text of the (excellent) article is under the cut. (The Atlantic, March 8th, 2021)

I first became aware that I was losing my mind in late December. It was a Friday night, the start of my 40-somethingth pandemic weekend: Hours and hours with no work to distract me, and outside temperatures prohibitive of anything other than staying in. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to fill the time. “What did I used to … do on weekends?” I asked my boyfriend, like a soap-opera amnesiac. He couldn’t really remember either.

Since then, I can’t stop noticing all the things I’m forgetting. Sometimes I grasp at a word or a name. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and find myself bewildered as to why I am there. (At one point during the writing of this article, I absentmindedly cleaned my glasses with nail-polish remover.) Other times, the forgetting feels like someone is taking a chisel to the bedrock of my brain, prying everything loose. I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.