#jo my prettiest girl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iichaeyj · 7 months ago

Text

CAFÉ SUNSHINE

the barista working at your favorite café draws hearts onto your coffee cup, calls you her sunshine, and calls you the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—platonically, of course.

PAIRING: barista!sohyun x f!reader GENRE: fluff, lots of fluff WARNINGS: y/n is a little oblivious but she's trying her best, like one kms joke, one sort of suggestive joke ? WORD COUNT: 4.0k A/N: ik nobody asked for this but i saw no sohyun fics so i had to do it myself!!!!!

The lingering smell of fresh coffee hits your nose as you walk into the quaint, familiar café you’ve been visiting for months now, the bell at the top of the door ringing to signal your arrival. A small display on the counter shows you little cupcakes, cookies, and bagels you’ve all tried. Next to it, a small menu resides that shows off the various coffees and drinks the café serves its customers. You approach the counter, your eyes drifting to the only sound in the café besides the calming music in the background.

The sound of the espresso machine rings throughout the area, the shot of concentrated coffee flowing down into a little white cup made by the girl standing in front of the machine. Her long, dark hair flows behind her as she works. She’s dressed in a simple outfit suited for a barista, the white sleeves of her blouse rolled up as she concentrates on grinding coffee beans. Her apron is slightly messy with hints of coffee and whipped cream smeared onto the brown fabric, but she shows no sign of care on her face as she focuses on her current task. The veins in her hands become visible as she works, and her forearm muscles tighten as she finishes. She tilts her head down as she notices her messy hands, her side profile highlighting her jawline and the soft curve of her nose. The gold writing flashes as the sunlight reflects off her name tag, the bold letters spelling out “Sohyun” against the black background.

Sohyun turns towards you, her eyes looking up from the ground as she makes eye contact. Her lips part in surprise as she finally notices a customer, curling up at the ends when she sees that it’s not just any customer, but you. She brushes her hands off diligently on a clean towel before walking up to the register, flashing you a friendly smile. “Hey, sunshine,” Sohyun greets you, using the familiar nickname she applies only to you as she leans down against the counter with her arms crossed against the cool surface. She looks up at you as she tilts her head, staring for a moment as if to take in your appearance while she smiles brighter at the sight. “What can I get for you today?” she asks you, her sultry and smooth voice causing you to look away shyly.

“I don’t know,” you hum, glancing at the menu next to the register. “What do you suggest?” you ask, meeting her gaze again despite every part of your body struggling to hide the rosy blush currently creeping onto your cheeks.

“Why don’t you get something as sweet as yourself?” Sohyun says, grinning when she notices the soft blush becoming more prominent from her flirtatious words. “Maybe a blue lemonade?” she suggests, standing back up properly from her position leaning down on the counter.

“A blue lemonade?” you say, scanning the menu that offers no such option. “Since when did you start making that?” you ask her curiously.

“Since I noticed you beginning to crave sweeter and cooler things the hotter it gets,” Sohyun tells you with a small chuckle, gathering the ingredients from the cabinets.

You flush in embarrassment as she picks up on a habit you didn’t even know you had, wondering if you were easy to read or if she was just smart enough to figure you out. “Well as long as you make it, I’m sure I’ll like it,” you say sweetly, trying to flatter her while also avoiding processing the fact that Sohyun remembered something about you so easily.

Sohyun’s hand twitches slightly at your words, her back towards you as she begins working on your blue lemonade. “What if I accidentally make it really horrible? My job mainly requires me to handle shots of espresso, you know,” she jokes, preparing the sparkly blue drink.

“I trust you,” you tell her, smiling at her joke. “Ever since I started coming here, you’ve never given me anything bad,” you say happily.

You shiver as you walk down the streets of your neighborhood, the jacket around you doing little to nothing to prevent the cold air from attacking your skin. After walking downtown thinking you’d be fine, you regretted your choice as you walked back up the familiar streets in the freezing cold. Just as you begin thinking nothing could get worse than the 32 Fahrenheit weather you were currently trapped in, snowflakes suddenly begin floating down from the sky.

Letting out an exasperated sigh as the snow falls onto your hair, you look around the empty street. Although you lived nearby, you really didn’t want to be out in the cold after walking all the way here. You could practically feel your legs aching at the thought of climbing up these next few streets to get home. You notice a bright light coming from inside a small store, curious about the store you hadn’t seen previously. You sigh as the snow only begins getting heavier, shivering as you make your way towards the light that would surely offer you some comfort from the snowy weather.

You walk into the small store, looking around at the small plants placed around the space and the pieces of art that still have the price tags on them if you look closely enough. You notice the freshly dried paint on the walls and the lack of actual food or products on display, hinting at the place's newly opened status. The place was generally filled with the colors of white and brown, typical colors for a modern café. However, something about the cute, small café offered you space that differed from the world outside. The warm, golden lights shined down on you and almost instantly melted the snow on your hair, leaving you feeling much better than before. The area felt warm and comfortable, offering a safe space from the harsh weather outside.

As you look around, you fail to notice the barista behind the counter that was looking at you. Her eyes looked you up and down, bundled up in a warm jacket and a scarf that was too big on you. She smiled slightly at the sight of you, taking in your rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes as you looked around curiously.

“Can I help you?” the barista asks you, causing your head to snap up to stare at the girl. Her voice was low and raspy, causing you to unknowingly blush at the mere sound. As you try and calm yourself down, feeling stupid from being so easily embarrassed, your jaw nearly falls open as you take her in. She smiles kindly at you, looking into your eyes. Her eyes glisten with interest as she looks at you, clearly intrigued by your presence. Her hair is tied up behind her, allowing you to look over her sharp features. Her lips are shaped like hearts as they curl into a smile for you, which in turn highlights the pink on her prominent cheekbones. She had a mole on the bottom of her left eye and on her nose, adding to her already incredible features to make her look sophisticated.

She looked ethereal.

She was unlike anybody you’ve ever seen before. After you walked through the cold weather on streets covered by white snow with the gray sky looming overhead, the girl seemed like an otherworldly being with the way she captivated you with her warm smile and raspy voice. Her eyes crinkled up at the ends as she smiled, making you nearly fall over after noticing the small detail if it wasn't for the sound of her voice interrupting your thoughts.

“Hello?” she asks you, chuckling as she continues to stare at you kindly. You felt your legs wobble at her words. Hearing her low voice and her gentle laugh only made your attraction to her worse, a red tint coating your cheeks at the realization.

“Hi,” you say meekly, trying to offer her a smile you hoped wasn’t painfully awkward. “I was just trying to find shelter from the cold,” you tell her, struggling to meet her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

“So you didn’t mean to come here?” she asks you, a soft smile on her lips as she glances at your blushing cheeks.

You flush bright red in embarrassment, shaking your head quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you tell her quickly. “I’ve just never been here,” you explain shyly. “I live in this neighborhood, so I wanted to check this place out.”

“This place is a new café I'm getting set up,” she explains. “It may not look like much right now, but it'll get there,” she tells you, giving you a small wink.

You felt something awaken at the sight.

“You own this place?” you ask in surprise, staring at her as you take in her young appearance. Surely, she couldn't be more than a year older than you, if that.

“Yeah. I worked for it,” she shrugs, rubbing the back of her neck as she smiles bashfully. And if she noticed the way your eyes glanced at her exposed neck, she didn’t mention it.

“That’s cool!” you tell her earnestly, your eyes wide in surprise.

She glances at you, an amused smile playing on her lips as she notices your genuine enthusiasm for a person you had just met. “It’s nothing crazy,” she tells you, chuckling again which causes your heart to race. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll make something for you,” she tells you, nodding towards a seat nearby as she disappears off to the back.

As you take a seat, you hear her work in the back. You can hear lots of noises as she moves around, clearly struggling to find the right ingredients as you see flashes of her running back and forth in the back through the doorway. You smile slightly as you wait for her, feeling oddly flustered knowing that she was going through all this trouble just to make you something. You sigh and shake your head, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach that suddenly appeared as soon as you looked at the pretty barista. It wasn't like you to swoon over a person just because they're attractive, but as you see her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you catch a glimpse of her searching for something, you feel your face heat up once again.

After a few moments, the girl walks back into the front of the café while holding a steaming coffee cup. “I made you some hot chocolate,” she tells you, smiling as she sets the cup down in front of you on your table.

You look at the mug in surprise, smiling at the sight of the drink she clearly worked hard to make. “You really didn’t have to,” you say shyly.

“I wanted to. It’s on the house,” she reassures you, smiling as she casually sits down across the table from you. “I hope you don’t mind if I take a seat. Considering the weather, I don’t think any more customers are gonna be arriving soon,” she says, glancing at the window where she could see the snowstorm only getting worse.

“I don’t mind at all,” you tell her a little too quickly, looking down at the coffee cup. “But what’s this?” you ask her, pointing to something on the cup.

“That? It’s a sun, of course,” she tells you, looking at the little sun outlined in sharpie on your cup. The sun is a sharp contrast to the otherwise modern and sleek design of the cup and logo of the café.

“Do you draw suns on most of your coffee cups?” you ask her curiously, taking a sip of the hot chocolate that warms your insides. The sweet taste coats your tongue as you swallow the drink, the soft marshmallow melting on your tongue.

“Nope,” she tells you, shaking her head. “I just thought it suited you, sunshine,” she says casually, smiling at the sight of you enjoying the drink she’s made for you.

You freeze at the sound of the nickname rolling off her tongue, hoping your face isn’t as red as it seemed. “‘Sunshine?’” you question quietly, glancing up at her from your drink.

“Well, I don’t know your name, and ‘sunshine’ seems to suit you,” she shrugs, smiling as she confidently meets your eyes. “You’re a warming presence, especially considering the state we’re in right now,” she hums, motioning toward the outside weather. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” she asks you.

“My name’s Y/n,” you tell her shyly, your mind still reeling from her words. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Sohyun.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t wanna give my favorite customer a bad drink,” Sohyun says, smiling fondly at the memory of seeing you for the first time. Ever since then, you’ve been coming to her café multiple days throughout the week.

“So I’m your favorite?” you ask, teasing her as you lean over the counter to watch her make the drink.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she retorts back, turning her head to smile at you before continuing to make your drink. You two had gotten quite close in the past few months of seeing each other, making you comfortable enough around her to joke around and tease her, but you still couldn’t help the way you nearly folded just from seeing her throw you a smile.

“Well if it helps, you’re my favorite barista,” you tell her, trying to maintain a cool demeanor.

“I’d hope so,” Sohyun tells you, her voice low and calming as she mixes your drink for you. “I’d get a little jealous if I found out otherwise,” she mumbles out, causing your knees to buckle and your cheeks to flush yet again in her presence.

It’s words like these that affect you. From the way she calmly addresses you like you could be her lover to the way she smiles with her pretty lips, you can feel your crush on her growing worse and your heart growing heavier in your chest. In moments like this, it seemed like you hadn't changed at all from the first meeting where you had met Sohyun. However, no matter how wonderful she might make you feel, figuring out what she might really mean always drove you insane.

“I don’t even know if she likes girls!” you cry out for the millionth time, flopping onto your best friend’s bed.

“And for the last time, just ask her!” Xinyu groans, throwing a pillow at you.

You groan as you easily catch the pillow, staring up at her ceiling. “It’s not that simple,” you sigh, already blushing as you picture Sohyun’s face on the clear canvas of Xinyu’s ceiling.

Xinyu sighs, helping you sit up as she takes a seat next to you on her bed. “Okay, picture this,” she says, grabbing onto your shoulders for dramatic effect. “Imagine you’re walking into that café,” she says, painting a vision for you. “You’re wearing something pretty and you look smoking hot, and everybody is looking at you,” she says dramatically while ignoring the disgusted look you give her. “You stroll in and say to the cute barista girl ‘Are you gay? If you aren’t sure, wanna come over to my place and find out?’” she suggests, winking at you.

Xinyu groans as she gets pushed away, frowning at your disapproving look. She huffs as she straightens up, holding her hands up to show she’s just joking. “Okay, okay,” she sighs. “But honestly, it sounds like she does like you. I mean, what straight girl looks you dead in the eyes and refers to you as her ‘sunshine?’” she deadpans.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “But as much as it may seem like she’s flirting, how do I know she’s being serious? She may call me sweet things and tell me I’m pretty, but she’s never asked for my number or anything like that,” you tell her.

“Maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move,” Xinyu tells you, shrugging casually. “It sounds like she’s consistently doing things for you ever since the two of you first met. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to initiate something for once,” she suggests, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Why can’t she just do it?” you whine, placing your head in your hands.

Xinyu snorts at your words, smiling at your hunched-over figure. “No offense girl, but you’re not exactly a walking pride flag,” she sighs, patting your back to comfort you. “She probably has no idea if you’re gay or not. You just gotta ask her to find out.”

“What if she punches me in the face and tells me to kill myself,” you mumble out, visibly distressed.

Xinyu rolls her eyes, groaning loudly. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you two get married and I include this in my maid of honor speech,” she chuckles out, sighing as she looks around her room aimlessly.

She raises an eyebrow when she sees the now empty coffee cup you had just gotten from visiting Sohyun at her café. She picks up the cup, looking at the scribbled writing on the side before she throws it down and turns to you dramatically. “I swear to god if you don’t just ask for her number already,” she groans as she throws another pillow at you, the cup rolling around on the ground with the words ‘for the prettiest girl i know’ written on its side.

Sohyun turns back around as she finishes making your drink, smiling at you once again. “Here, try it,” she tells you, handing you your blue lemonade. You swear you feel the electricity flowing between you two as her fingers brush against yours.

As you put your lips on the edge of the cup, her eyes flicker between you and your lips as she watches you swallow the smooth drink. “Is it good?” she asks you curiously.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” you tell her happily, the smooth liquid running down your throat. The blue lemonade is refreshing and light for your taste buds, offering you a cool refreshment fitting for the hot weather.

Sohyun smiles brightly at your words, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her cheekbones become more visible as her lips curl up, a soft blush painting her face at your compliment. “I’m glad,” she mumbles shyly, clearing her throat as she glances between you and the drink in your hand.

Her eyes flicker as she stares at the cup, suddenly realizing something as she hastily grabs the sharpie nearby. “Wait, let me see that,” she says, reaching for the cup that you willingly hand to her.

“What is it?” you ask curiously, staring at her as she sets the cup down on the counter and leans down again.

“I forgot your sun,” she mumbles out, focusing on the cup as she draws on it. Her fingers move carefully, taking longer than normal as the black ink stains the side of your cup. She turns it back to you after she’s done, standing back up as she hands you your drink back with a satisfied smile.

You smile at the signature sun gracing the side of your drink, turning the drink when you notice another drawing on the other side. “What’s this?” you ask curiously as you point to the new, small drawing of a heart. “You don’t normally do this,” you mumble out, gently touching the little detail.

“It’s my heart,” Sohyun says quietly, smiling shyly as she glances at the drawing before looking at you. “I guess you could say I’m giving my heart to you,” she chuckles out, trying to hide her blush under her joking tone. Normally, you'd laugh it off with her or try and hope your heart wasn't beating loud enough for her to hear, but as you notice her expectant gaze, you feel your heart racing in a way it hasn't ever done before.

You stare down at the little heart carefully drawn onto your drink, thinking about everything Sohyun has done for you in the past. From the times she’s given you free drinks and desserts to the little discreet touches of her hands against yours, you feel your cheeks heat up at the memories. You could practically hear Xinyu screaming at you to get it together and say some cheesy pickup line to the girl standing in front of you.

“Do you really think I’m the prettiest girl you know?” you ask her quietly, looking up from the cup to look into her eyes.

Sohyun’s eyes widen at your words, her breath hitching as she recalls the note she once wrote for you. Her eyes stare into yours, the blush on her cheeks matching yours as she fumbles with the sharpie still in her hand. She stares at you intensely, her glimmering eyes darting from your eyes and your expectant gaze to your parted lips coated with a pretty gloss. She stares at the drink in your hand that she had spent days working on to make sure it would match your taste and include only high-quality ingredients.

Slowly, she nods her head. “The prettiest in the world, actually,” she mumbles out.

Your cheeks heat up at her words, fumbling with the drink as you quickly set it down on the counter to avoid spilling it. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your mind going blank as you think of what to say.

“Are you gay?” you blurt out, staring at her as you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “If you aren’t sure, wanna come over to my place and find out?” you stammer out before you can stop yourself.

You feel your face burn hot and your hands tremble as you stare at her, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t come back to this café ever again. You try to think of an excuse, anything to get you out of this situation. However, you suddenly hear Sohyun burst into laughter.

Sohyun throws her head back, laughing loudly as her eyes turn into crescents and her cheeks puff out from how hard she’s smiling. Her lips part as she laughs, struggling to contain her fits of laughter as she smiles brightly at you. “Shouldn’t you be inviting me out to dinner first?” she asks between the angelic sounds of her laughter.

You nod quickly, trying to save face as you play with the pendant on the necklace around your neck. “That would probably be better,” you mumble out, shyly glancing at her smiling face.

Sohyun smiles fondly at your obvious embarrassment, grabbing your drink as she writes her number on it. She hands your drink back to you after doing so, writing it boldly so that you can’t miss it. Her fingers touch yours firmly this time, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “But maybe I’ll take you up on that offer after a few dates?” she suggests, grinning when she sees your face heat up more at her simple words.

As you hold onto the drink tightly, you glance at her number before looking back up at her. “Maybe,” you mumble out sheepishly, struggling to think properly. “I’ll text you,” you tell her, dying to get out of here before you can embarrass yourself anymore.

Sohyun watches as you walk away from her, glancing at your ears that are bright red from the lingering embarrassment. She smiles as she admires you, calling out to you before you go. “Be careful with my heart,” she calls out as you leave, her gaze never leaving your back as you hurry out of the café.

You stare down at the cup as you walk out of the café, your thumb gently caressing the heart Sohyun drew on the coffee cup as you go about your day with a smile on your face.

taglist: @thaaiss89 @wccycc @enhacolor @raikea10 @acciomylove @lyric23 @luv4dream @duolingofanaccount @kenqki @kpoprhia

to be part of my permanent taglist, please fill out the form in my pinned/navigation !!

233 notes · View notes

tpwk-formula1 · 7 months ago

Text

She Shouldn't Be Your Type - LN4

Lando Norris x Plus size Model!Fem reader - SMAU

Face claim - Samantha Jo

All pictures have been pulled from Pinterest and Instagram I do not own any of them!

A/N - I've decided I will start writing SMAUs on my page of plus size women and POC as I have noticed there is a lack in the community. If you like my style I would love for you to send in requests and if you don't that is okay too! I will still be writing one shots when an idea comes to me.

Warnings - Some fatphobia, fluff, soft launch into hard launch... This is also very cringy but it's my first SMAU and it will get better over

Instagram

YourUserName

Liked by YourBestfriendUser, Landonorris, and 372,091 others

YourUserName: Life lately has been great <3

YourbestfriendUser You're actually so hot

Liked by yourusername

YourbestfriendUser Date me instead

User1 What do you know bf/n

YourUserName I'll always love you the most

User2 Who is she trying to soft launch?!

User3 Maybe Lando? He's in the likes

User4 LMAO you're funny! He'd never go for a fatty like Y/N

User4 How did this cow of a woman pull a man before me?

User5 So you're jealous...

User5 I really think she's dating an F1 driver! There's a few of them in her likes all of the sudden.

User6 Gorgeous girl

Liked by yourusename

Sabrinacarpenter My love, I've been replaced

YourUserName Never! He's just an addition

Sabrinacarpenter More like a woman snatcher

Twitter

Texts between Lando and Y/N

Instagram

Landonorris

Liked by YourBestfriendUser, Mclaren, and 1,057,899 others

Landonorris I have the prettiest girl who takes the best pictures

User1 Lando soft launching around the same time as Y/N cannot be a coincidence!

User2 I agree! I can honestly see them working so well together

User4 The fatty is gonna squish the man to death!

Oscarpiastri I'm tired of the noises coming from your driver's room

User5 LMAO, not Oscar calling Lando and his mystery girl out

User6 It's no mystery! It's got to be @/yourusername

Mclaren You can keep her around forever! Literally the sweetest

Liked by landonorris

User7 We love to see a supportive admin!

User6 The last pic!!!! @/yourusername knows what she is doing!!

User8 Nothing has been confirmed...

User8 I take back what I said

User4 It better not be that fat girl! She doesn't deserve you

Landonorris You don't know who I deserve! I don't deserve her

These comments have been deleted by user

User8 WE SAW THAT LANDO!!

Texts between Lando and Y/N

Twitter

Instagram

YourUserName

YourUserName I guess I'll hard launch for the race winner! I love you to the moon and back. And yes that was the look on my face when I realized he was gonna win! Surprised the tears didn't come, but I couldn't be more proud... And on our one year?!

Liked by Landonorris, Mclaren, and 2,804,786 others

Comments on this post have been disabled

299 notes · View notes

chiiyuuvv · 3 months ago

Text

jo's diary ★

classmate!jo 1.2k words

notes! inspired from "when &t likes you" brief of harua, taki, maki, and being drunk

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

august 2th, friday, 11:20 am

dear diary.. never thought i’d be writing in my journal during school hours, i must have accidentally slipped it in my bag when i was studying with maki last night. i know i should be paying attention to my lecture, but i can’t focus when she’s around. i have no clue what her name is, but i know she’s the prettiest girl i’ve laid my eyes on. apparently her class dispersed, or did she need to have a word with my teacher? i can’t remember, my mind went blank when she stepped in the room. anyways, there’s a test coming up and i really need to focus, no matter how difficult it is. cya :)

6th, tuesday, 9:39 pm

i saw her again, the pretty girl. i bumped into her in the hallway.. literally. she was carrying some books and couldn’t see what was in front of her while i was zoned out on my music. her books fell when we collided, and i quickly rushed to help clean up the mess. i didn’t even realize it was her until we made eye contact. truthly, i had forgotten all about her after she entered my class, so imagine how shocked i was when i saw her again. she looked.. so precious up front, i completely froze when our eyes locked. there’s so many things i wanted to say, so much i wanted to do, but our time was cut short when the ball rang. she mustered a small, very cute “sorry,” took her books out of my hands, and ran to class. i was still frozen solid. i even got a tardy for being late. i’m such a loser.

8th, thursday, 7:56 pm

i don’t know what came over me, but i asked for the pretty girl’s name today. it’s y/n.. it suits her well. i learnt she has a tendency to carry large books half her size everywhere, so i offered to take them off her hands. at the time, it felt natural to want to help her but to think about it, that was so weird. everyone knows me as the quiet guy, i don’t know when the random surge of confidence blossomed. i’m sure my friends are probably cheering me on, that is.. if i told them about y/n. i’m keeping her as a secret as of now, i don’t want someone like taki scaring her off. that is, if she even likes me. i doubt it, she’s so out of my league.

10th, saturday, 3:21 am

she has the cutest giggle, it keeps ringing in my head. i can’t get her out of my mind.

12th, monday, 7:39 pm

i didn’t know y/n had the same bus route as me. as soon as i got onto the vehicle, she immediately waved me over so we could sit together. it warms my heart that she got excited to see me all because i helped carry her books. she’s so funny, my face hurts from smiling so much. and she’s also so sweet! she gave me snacks during the bus ride. i think i’m falling for her.

21th, wednesday, 6:28 am

i have a habit of carrying her books, therefore walking her to class. she’s says i’m so cute for helping her everyday, and i told her she’s even cuter. i don’t know what type of demon possessed me to say that, it just flew out my mouth. i thought she would get so uncomfortable from my remark, heck, even hate me, but she only laughed. the cutest laugh, i should say. i watched her cheeks pinken, and she had this little smile tugging at her lips whenever she looked at me. she’s so adorable, i can’t wait to see her today.

22th, thursday, 9:38 pm

i’m going to kill maki, WHY would he shout “jo’s got rizz!!” when i’m talking to the love of my life? i meant y/n. what does rizz even mean??? i definitely need to study english more.

23th, friday, 10:47 pm

the confident surge came back. this time it was even worse. i asked her out to lunch, and then her number. i guess that’s pretty tame for others, but i’m scared of making the first move. it makes me feel vulnerable. y/n was pretty chill about it, so it made me feel better about my actions. she’s so good at assuring me with things. the boys said i had hearts in my eyes while i was eating lunch with her. it probably was true considering butterflies kept roaming in my stomach from talking to her. anyways, should i put one heart beside her contact name, or two?

27th, tuesday, 8:29 pm

i’m still shaking from what happened a few hours ago. y/n invited me for ice cream after school and of course i said yes. i could never say no to that ball of sunshine. i offered to walk her home after. i was talking about something stupid when she suddenly walked super close next to me, the back of her hand brushing against mine. my heart jumped at the contact. i noticed her getting quieter as we talked, and i kept seeing her steal glances at me out of the corner of my eye. help, i got so nervous, i kept stuttering T_T and when i was about to drop her off at her house, she grabbed my face and kissed my cheek. i’m so.. i.. she ksiised mj ceek seh kassid..

28th, wednesday, 11:38 am

i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. i bought her flowers. and then i gave them to her in front of her friends. speaking of her friends, they’ve been smirking and nudging y/n whenever i’m near. harua was with me when it happened, and he says y/n likes me. does she? there’s no way.

september 7th, saturday, 2:39 am

there was a party a few hours ago, and now y/n is asleep in my bed. i’m on the couch right now. i’m not even sure what happened, i’m still a little buzzed from the drinks. all i know is we were partying, and then i took her to my place with our hands intertwined. did i kiss her? i can’t remember anything.

7th, saturday, 8:00 am

i woke up just now feeling something heavy in my arms. turns out it’s y/n. she must have sleep walked out of my bed and to the couch, and now her face is nuzzled in my neck. i never thought this would feel so comfortable.

21th, saturday, 12:00 am

dear diary.. after a few weeks of stressing out, i finally asked y/n out on a date. i’m so thankful for the boys and her friends for help because i was such a nervous train wreck. she looked so cute, all dressed up with a necklace i bought her a few days prior. we laughed so much, our time together was very memorable. i kissed her goodnight as well. her lips tasted like sweet strawberries. my heart is still swooning right now, and i doubt i’d be able to get a lick of sleep tonight. still, goodnight diary, and goodnight y/n, my pretty girl ♥︎

︴bonus! think i got a little carried away.. heh. anyways its midnight and i should be sleeping rn but wtv wtv wtv. ALSO it's "bandtober" meaning my updates will be slower than usual. see you in november!

▸ taglist 📬 @cherrycolaberry , @slytherinshua , @enhacolor , @lakoya (welcome!!)

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

141 notes · View notes

604to647 · 4 days ago

Text

Toot-toot, Beep-beep

As is my style, squeaking in last minute to take part in @jolapeno's brilliant idea to encourage people to toot their own work; while I still feel very shy about my writing, I can't help but be heartened by the lovely interactions and kind encouragement I've received this past year - so Imma gonna give it a go! Thank you for the tags @aurorawritestoescape @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @sawymredfox

@iamasaddie @sanarsi @greenwitchfromthewoods it was wonderful to read your lists, revisit some old favourites and grow my tbr 🥰🥰😘

One-Shots

Emily never met a fic she couldn't turn into a series, but once in a while she tries to contain herself:

What Was I Made For (Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford; Tim is our titular "Creature" but there is nothing monstrous about him. I cried while writing this!!!! 😭😭)

Photocopies (S1/S2 Narcos Javier Pena; does it still count as a one-shot if it's a follow-up to a one-shot I wrote the year before? And if I plan on writing more "one-shots" for the same couple? Another angsty one for these two as they're kept apart by Javi's poor decisions and dumb [affectionate] self-sacrificing nature 😔)

Instalment of Series

I write mostly series, so here are a few chapters from last year that I'm proud of:

Ch. 19 The Betrayal from Safest with You (Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer Din Djarin; this is my first and longest running series - my baby 🥹. With this chapter I finally wrote that scene; you know the one you think up originally and end up building an entire story/series around?)

Hold On from The Rockford Portfolio (I will always think of this Tim Rockford fic fondly because it was born from such a fun, spontaneous coming together of the community after @mrsmando asked which Pboi is a Tiddy Guy, and together, we forever cemented Detective Rockford as a Boob Man).

Ch. 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia from Mi Galleta (Modern AU Pero Tovar; I spend a lot of time pouring over bike diagrams, biker images and biker Tiktoks for this chapter where we give our scary bouncer a sports bike. It was really hard work 🤭 Also, Protective!Pero 🥹)

Part 1 of Strawberry Shortcake (Frankie Morales goes to a strip club and falls in love with a cocktail waitress; this one came out of nowhere and was mainly vibes, but I love it. When I wrote it I knew I was leaving it on a cliffhanger, but had no idea where I was going to take it [Narrator: she took it to 22K words in total])

Smut

Having only started writing in 2023, this was an area of major insecurity for me! So, this year we practiced, practiced, practiced:

Ch. 16 The Match-up from Safest with You (Baby's first sex tape; Modern AU Din Djarin)

The Detective and the Agent (Baby's first threesome; Tim Rockford + Marcus Pike)

At First Light (Baby's first somno; Tim Rockford)

Paperwork (Baby's first cockwarming; Tim Rockford)

Challenges

I think Jo also said recently that writing can often be a lonely activity, solitary in nature. Whenever someone hosts a challenge or writing/fandom event, it goes such a long way towards alleviating this loneliness, pulling us out of our isolation - it's really so, so nice. People who host, you're gems 🥹

Agent Hephaestus (Pedro Pantheon hosted by beskarandblasters; an allegorical telling of Agent Marcus Pike as Hephaestus. The hardest thing I ever wrote! At one point, I printed this out and edited it old school style, literal pen on paper😂😂)

Dance for me (Mootboards and minifics hosted by @yopossum. Such a fun idea and remains the prettiest moodboard on my blog 😍 Happy to be able to give Detective Tim Rockford a silly detective case plot [my favourite fiction genre to read] and patting myself on the back for adding a few Strawberry Shortcake easter eggs as well 🤭)

Brandy by the Fireplace (Trope-off hosted by @auteurdelabre. The trope I chose was "Fish out of Water" so naturally, we had to go with Frankie Morales. Self proclaimed City girls and anxious girls [gn], I hope this one speaks to you. I've never disclosed this before, but this one is inspired by true events 😭😂).

The Might of the Realm (The Glandolorian challenge hosted by @beefrobeefcal. My first love, husband, Din Djarin in a canon compliant post-S3 story that fits into an AU that has been living in my mind rent free since that last season ended. Maybe I'll write more for them, because as stated before - Emily never met a one-shot she could leave alone 😂)

Hidden Gem

Dodge (Vigilante AU Javier Pena, aka what happens when Emily thinks of a way to write that Daredevil fic that's been rattling around in her brain since 2018. This is really unlike anything else I've written - I'm a big Marvel fan, but probably won't ever write MCU fic [I do read a fair bit though!] so I'm proud of the way I was able to weave story elements from two of my fave fandoms together. If you read it, a) um I love you and b) tell me if you're also a Daredevil fan and if you're getting those vibes 🥹🥹)

No tags because I'm so late but please do share and toot yourself if you're so inclined! Thank you all for visiting me this past year - your support has helped me so much, I can't even tell you; I would never be able to toot myself without your kindness. Love you lots! Here's for more to toot in 2025! 🥂🥂

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

#jo: tootathon #tootathon2024 #my fave things #2024 round up #toot toot #beep beep #tim rockford #frankie morales #javier pena #Din Djarin #marcus pike #pero tovar #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

61 notes · View notes

mytheoristavenue · 3 months ago

Text

CSM Makima x Reader 🍋 - Total Control

Kinktober 2024 - XI

Petplay + Brainwashing

Summary: After taking you into public saftey as one of her 'dogs', Makima explains to you how things work in her shelter.

Warnings: Brainwashing, spoilers, fiend!reader, fem!reader, degredation, praise, pet play, hands free orgasm, short

You fidgetted in your chair, waiting for your new boss to joing you in her office. You'd recently been picked up after having your body possessed by a devil, and you were given the choice to work in the intrest of keeping the public safe, or to be exicuted. Obviously, you chose the latter. Though, something about the woman who'd found you put you off.

The way she spoke made your skn crawl and you could simply tell something about her was unnatural and wrong. And it felt like she knew that you knew that- like she could taste your discomfort. It must have tasted very sweet, because she seemed to go out of her way to make it worse. Speaking of which-

"Good morning, puppy, how are you doing today?" A cheery voice called from behind you, startling you to bits. "My, my, you're jumpy! Is somehting the matter?" She cooed, leaning over the back of your chair, lips hovering close to your ear.

"I-I'm fine, ma'am." You sputtered, trying to lean away from her, but her hands travelled down your arms from your shoulders.

"You aren't afraid of me now, are you?" She asked and you could hear the amusement in her voice.

"N-No ma'am." You insisted, steeling yourself in her touch. "Y-You... wanted to see me?"

"Yes," She smiled, stepping out from behind you to stand in front of you, commanding all your attention. "I wanted to take some time to explain to you how things work around here." You nodded, prompting her to continue as she leaned against the desk. "Consider this place an animal shelter." She smiled, making your skin crawl. "I take in stray dogs, teach them to behave, and then..."

"You sell them?" You ask nervously.

"Not if I can help it. I tend to grow attached to my pets." She sighed, holding her cheek. "But sometimes, yes, my higherups do have me let them go."

"And... me?" You swallowed dryly, nipping your lip apprihensively.

"You're my latest little pup, I have great asperations for you." She confrimed in a sickly sweet tone.

"A-And... if I disappoint you?"

"You won't." She chirped cryptically. "Now then, have you ever had a pet before?" You shake your head no, uncertain of what her angle is. "Well, I only keep good dogs. I don't have any patience for disobedience." Despite being unnerved by her constantly, you'd never been more so than this moment. You could understand what she was insinuating, but the way she smiled down at youso lovingly made your head spin. "You can be a good dog, can't you?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am." The quiver in your voice and the way you always told her what she wanted to hear thrilled her and she pushed off the desk with a peaceful smile.

"That's a relief, I was a bit worried I'd have to put you down." Her words made your blood run cold and you froze as she leaned closer to you, placing a hand on the back of your chair, caging you against it. "It'd hate to have to euthanize such a pretty bitch."

"P-Pretty...?" You repeated, her hypnotic eyes boring into you, making you forget your common sense.

"Oh, of course," She cooed, using her free hand to tilt your chin upwards. "I think you're the prettiest pup I've adopted yet." You could feel your guard lowering, intoxicated by her attention and sweet smelling perfume. "And uyou look even prettier like this, all shy and submissive. Are you gonna be my obedient girl?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am." You sighed, a lovesick grin plastered on your face.

"Never tell me no?" She asked, thumb brushing over your lips.

"Y-Yes, Miss Makia..." You echoed, muscles relaxing at her touch.

"Bark for me, pretty girl." She ordered sweetly, cupping your face with both hands, confident she didn't need to restrain you anymore. "Show me how good you can be."

Unabashedly, you gave your best attempt at a bark, something you could have never done if in the right state of mind. She seemed seemed increadibly pleased, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good puppy, so obedient for me..." She cooed, staring into your eyes a bit longer before giving another order.

"Cum for me, please."

"W-Wha..?" You stammered, a bit dazed. "B-But I-"

"You're only answers to me should be 'yes' or 'woof'." She reminded you, hardening a bit before asking again. "Now, will you cum for me, please?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am..." The smile returned to her face at your submission, which relieved you greatly. Slowly, gazing into her eyes began to make your stomach churn and a dull throb in your core. Chasing the feeling, your hips jerked forward a bit and she giggled, intensifying the feeling. "I-It feels... good..." You murmured, unsure why you were suddenly feeling stimulated without a single touch.

"That's perfect, puppy, just let yourself feel it." Makima cooed, staring at you more intently when your eyes began to flutter shut. "Don't look away. You peel your eyes open, meeting her gaze again and the feeling doubles, so much so that you can't keep your hips still, squirming and humming the air, eyes glazed over. "That's it, you're so close, aren't you, pretty girl?"

"Y-Yes- hahh..." You rasped, eyelid twitching with the ache to shut. "Y-Yes, Miss Makima!" Your knuckles began to turn white with your grip on the arms of the chair as the knot in your stomach tightened, finally as taut as it could get.

"Cum, now." She ordered sternly, her serene smile fading. Without hesitation, you let go, releasing the tension in your core, ignoring the discomfort your soaked panties provided. You couldn't hold back the sweet whines that poured out of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin. Finally, she smiled again, pressing a tender kiss to your spit-coted lips. "You did so well, puppy. I'm very happy with you."

"T-Thank you, Miss Makima..." You huffed, limp in your chair as she pulled away slightly, confident she'd quelled your unease about her.

"Tell me, what do you think of me?" She asked with a knowing smile, tilting your chin upwards again, thumb brushing over your lip.

"Y-You're the best, I love you so much..." You gushed, utterly lovesick. "Your so lovely and kind..."

Makima smirked, satisfied with your answer as she gave a little giggle. "Perfect."

#chainsaw man #csm #csm x reader #makima #makima x reader #makima smut #makima x reader smut #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #kinktober

56 notes · View notes

kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

Note

JO let bakugo voiceover a video of yourself doing makeup 👀!!

It would be less about the makeup and more about how good he thinks you look.

“There she is putting that shit on her face that always transfers when I kiss her—”

“Foundation, baby.”

“Yeah, that shit. She doesn’t need it at all, but I guess it completes the look right?”

“Oh fuck, baby that colour looks so good on you c’mere—” He’s making grabby hands at you once you’ve applied lipstick, eyes focused on the way you pout your lips to transfer the product evenly, “Come on, just a peck— I won’t fuck it up. Oi, you can fix it right after.”

“Look at her she’s so fuckin’ pretty ain’t she?” He’s pointing his phone towards you now, panning up and down because you really do look gorgeous.

“Shes the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He’s talking to the camera now, chin buried in his hoodie as he holds the phone on his lap.

And you’re just sat there trying not to laugh because it’ll make your hand shake and it’ll fuck up your progress, but ignoring him only makes him even more persistent.

“Work it, baby—” He mockingly imitates your voice, winking at you in the mirror as you add more highlighter, “Damn, you look hot.”

“That’s my girl,” And he’s already leaning down to ruin the perfect face you literally just painted, following your face when you try to move back, “Oi, gimme a kiss.”

#soft bakugou

188 notes · View notes

feyofmay · 1 year ago

Text

The Righthand Man

Laurie x March!Reader Summary: Assisting in making the costumes for Jo's upcoming show, Y/N, who is love with Laurie, is forced to spend time with Laurie, who is in love with Jo. Angst ensues. word count: 2.8k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, angst, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3.

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

A trickle of syrupy scarlet begins to pool and form a bubble on the tip of the young girl’s finger. However, the sight of blood does not squeeze even a squeal out of her. Rather, all she does is sigh and place the finger between her lips. Between her lips, a row of pins rest beside her finger like a line of spiked fences, a warning to wandering souls. With her free hand, she guides the loose fabric to curl around her waist.

“I must be the prettiest. I am the princess,” her younger sister declares like true royalty as she remains still under the middle March’s touch. Humming in agreement, she pulls her finger from her lips and leads the needle down a familiar trail. Although the house is always a little bit of a mess, in the most recent days it has grown into a beast of its own. Pieces of fabric are strung about everywhere, and loose pages of noted and edited scripts cover the floor as a gray and white layer of snow in autumn. A sheen of dust and the stink of old paper and musty fabric smothers in the autumn air. Without a knock, a boy enters, carrying the autumn breeze on the edges of his footsteps. Lost in her work, the middle March doesn’t pay any mind to anything outside of the glimmer of her needle as she works to avoid the wrath of her younger sister. If the needle is to even brush against her skin, the younger March will inform the whole neighborhood of the atrocity her sister has committed. Adorning a heather gray wool skirt, of which some other sisters have surely worn in seasons past, her heather purple bolero pinches around her collar and floats over her white collar shirt and black bodice.

“I’m sure you will-” She begins, speaking around the pins in her mouth.

“Ducky, how’s the costume coming along?”

“- be. Just don’t paint the fabric without asking me first again,” Ducky continues while their older sister speaks around her. Like a knight in battle, the eldest of the three forces through the chaos of their home.

“Jo, you better have removed the part where I have to kiss a toad!” the youngest of the present sisters yells out to Jo. Ducky places her palm against the youngest’s stomach as a way to calm her and tell her to refrain from moving.

“Amy, you have to stay still, or I’ll poke you,” Ducky reminds her before returning to sewing the draping robin blue fabric. All of their conversation overlaps and forms a symphony of dissonant harmonies.

“I’m nearly finished with Amy’s, and all I have of Meg’s is final fittings, she’s putting hers on right now -” Ducky begins as she begins looping the thread into itself, forming a knot.

“Perfect, we’re just behind schedule!” Jo continues her own tangent while she stations herself besides Ducky and begins to digest Amy's appearance.

“- and then all I have left is to make your jacket, and figure out Laurie’s ensemble, and I’m unsure what you want for me, regarding ‘my part’ in the show, itself,” Ducky trails off as she picks up her scissors and frees her needle from the taut thread caught in the knot of Amy’s dress. A heap of tulle the color of a robin’s egg and a mellow baby blue silk cascade from underneath her beaded white bodice like a waterfall. Hours and hours have been spent on beading the bodice, alone, and, with sweat, time, and a minimal amount of blood, the middle March has managed to piece together the costumes for Jo’s newest and best show.

“You’re going to be the wise old witch who lives in the forest -” Jo starts to fall into her tangent as she waves her hands. In her right hand, the newest version of her script resides.

“I’m only acting because Marmee’s done getting involved in your shows,” Ducky confirms.

“- Well, yes, but that doesn’t make your role any less important,” Jo reminds her as Ducky rises to her feet and brushes off her skirt. Blood rushes into her legs and feeling finally slips back into her feet after sitting for hours on the rickety wooden stool. As the teen boy discards his jacket, Jo is alerted of his presence and her attention shoots over to him. Rushing over to him, her arms shoot out to greet him.

“Teddy!” Jo shouts when she’s engulfed in a hug. The two prattle on in a quick back and forth of banter and quips, and Amy waddles off to the mirror so she can properly admire herself. Leaving Ducky all by her lonesome, she sets down the pins between her lips and straightens up her makeshift sewing station. As she collects the spools of thread that had attempted to escape the nest of odd bobbins and spools of an assortment of colors of thread, she can't prevent her eyes from glancing over at the teen boy who’s attempting to swallow Jo in a hug. While she’s too young to wade deeper into her own emotions, she’s perturbed by the small pest named Envy that nips at the walls of heart. She’s not mad, not angry at either her sister or the boy, but she wants to be hugged like that. She wants to be seen & touched with the same feeling of “I feel you, and, therefore, I know you”. For a brief moment, the stories of far fetched courtship and romance are a faint taste on the tip of her tongue, real and tangy. Seeing her younger sister and being old enough to swim in the depths of her own feelings, the eldest March strolls over as a wreath of wisdom hangs around her head. With a knowing gaze and sturdy smile, she bends down so her lips are the same height as Ducky’s ear.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” she whispers to her younger sister as her words bubble up into a giggle. Ducky’s head shoots around to look at her older sister. A similar shade of red to the wound on her finger soaks into her entire face. Her nails dig into her palms, and her chest shutters from the pounding of her heart.

“Shut it, Meg!” she mutters out while gathering the last bobbins and placing them back into the small heap of thread. Laughing over the embarrassment of a young lover, Meg presses a hand against Ducky’s shoulder before gliding over to assist in admiring Amy’s dress by the mirror.

“Ducky, what have you planned for the right hand man to the hero, the protagonist, of my tale?” Jo enthuses as she rushes over to the younger sister’s station. Scooping up a pile of concepts and measurements all messily scrawled across different sheets of paper in looping, unfocused handwriting, the middle March digs through the loose scraps of paper until pulling out several ideas all scribbled on with a stick of graphite and colored pencils. Jo leans over to peer at the drawn figures, and the teen boy mirrors her movements. Sketched onto the paper in coagulating shapes, a drawing of a man clad in a puffy nectarine orange jacket in gold trim and forest green waistcoat dawns the garments over a pair of orange slacks in a matching shade and white high collar shirt with a forest green and orange striped cravat.

“Perhaps the costume will make up for the fact that you can’t act,” Jo quips out as the two gaze at the young girl’s sketches. Teddy whips his head around to glare at the elder sister as she begins to leap away. Never does Jo simply “walk”, rather, her spirits carry the heels of her weathered leather boots just an inch above the physical Earth. To Ducky, Jo is beyond what any human can promise to be. After all, no mere human of flesh and blood could survive carrying the weight of tenacity and creativity like her sister does. Jo flings her body around and contorts it like a hanging rag left to dry in the wind, and the taupe skirt of her dress wrings her as she flips around to face Teddy.

“You wound me so,” he replies with a filling smile. Jo’s hand flies up to smack Teddy’s forearm.

“Good, make use of that anguish in scene fourteen,” Jo quickly snips back as she starts to float away with the spirit of genius, her true paramore, “Now, stand here and do whatever Ducky tells you to do without any complaint.”

“What if she stabs me?” Laurie whines while he finds his place where Amy had recently stood before him.

“I don’t want to hear any of it! You most likely deserve it, anyways,” Jo declares before rushing away to join her two other sisters by the mirror. A squeal of delight leaves Amy’s lips as she scampers away, chasing a distant thought that rattles around in her head.

“I’ll paint my shoes to match!” Amy giggles as she rushes off, leaving the two other sisters to follow her in quick pursuit. With a small smile, Ducky attempts to silently apologize for her sisters’ behaviors.

“Never a dull moment, eh?” Teddy eases her with a knowing glance, and she shares the look while flipping to a blank page in her notepad. Grabbing her measuring tape from around her neck, the middle March brushes back a few strands of hair that had escaped from her makeshift updo, kept together only by a single piece of loose, pale pink ribbon. Lightly gripping his forearms, her fingers sink into the billowing fabric of his watery gray shirt.

“I’ll need to take your measurements. If I touch you in any way that’s discomforting, let me know,” she explains to him as she guides his arms up to extend out like a child’s when they’re pretending to be an airplane. The tips of his fingers brush against the fading cream and pink flowers that orner the sage green background of the wallpaper that, over the past years, has been dented and scraped from calloused yet tender fingers of youth. Nodding in reply, he stands stalk still as she wraps the measuring tape around his arm before jotting down the measurements in her small notebook.

“Jo told me that you're some sort of expert seamstress,” Laurie informs her, speaking to try and swallow the silence that the two of them are sinking in. As the tips of her fingers brush against his, a pursed smile tucks itself into her lips.

“I’m nothing close to that, but I do sew,” Ducky corrects him while she slips the tape around his neck, continuing her work.

“Is that your big dream? Jo will be a writer, Meg will act, Amy will paint and Beth plays, and you’ll sew?” he asks with a sense of genuine inquisitiveness, tilting his head back as she leans in to better see the faded numbers, leaving about a hand’s width of space between his face and hers. However, as she’s consumed by her work, she isn’t sent awry by the lack of distance between the two. Whispering the measurement to herself, she ushers back to her notepad and copies down the digits, pausing from the conversation to focus on her craft.

“No, no, that’s Jo’s dream for me,” she admits while shuffling to loop the tape around his bust.

“Well then, what will you be?” Laurie continues as he raises his hands above his head to allow Ducky to reach around him comfortably. She pauses for a moment, both engulfed in her work and unsure how to answer his question. Tendrils of sunlight begin poking through the window as the sky starts to fade to a rusty hue.

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins as she turns to copy more digits before adjusting the tape to next measure his hips, “Far. Free, not depending on any man to live how I want to.” Listing off her floating aspirations, Teddy gazes down and watches her precise fingers whisper a secret against the rippling powder blue, silk fabric of his waistcoat.

“What about you? What’s your dream?” she swings the question back to him, and he’s slightly taken aback by her forwardness. Often entranced by Jo and her wild acclaims of the future, he’s yet to think about what it is that he wants. Pursing his lips, the boy considers several archived visions of an ideal future that he’s contemplated in the past.

“Well, I want to marry a woman. I want to spend my days free from tutoring, content to do whatever I please whenever I’d please. Maybe I’d settle down and put my musical talents to some use, as they’re the only talents my grandfather thinks has worth,” Teddy admits, and, as he discusses his aspirations for his future, a dull ache washes over Ducky, and she’s faced with an answer that’s unfamiliar to her. When her sisters are faced with the question “what do you dream?” every single one of them has a secret truth that is inlaid in the very foundation of their mind. They dream of safety. Of a home that is good enough, and a husband that is kind enough. Of a life that is fulfilling enough. They dream of the brink of enough, of simply a little more than bearable. A man can dream of happiness, but a woman only hopes for enough. Only has Jo honestly strayed from this path, as even Amy, with age, begins to share the three other March’s mindset. Jo continues to strive for greatness, and Ducky can do nothing but admire her for it.

“I sincerely pray for a safe and speedy recovery to any woman who falls for your ‘charms’,” Ducky retorts, and, for a second, her own tone reminds her greatly of Meg. The eldest sister always spoke with a sense of grace and intellect that Ducky found surreal. How could one speak like a bubbling brook flows? For a moment, as the words dribble out from her lips, Ducky is filled with the same rush of ease that she often feels when Meg is teasing Jo. As if called on by a greater divinity, just as Ducky finishes her measurements, Jo and Meg rush back over, with Meg sporting a new, oily black mustache painted onto her face.

“Teddy, come quickly,” Jo commands to her companion, snatching his arm and dragging him along before he has time to digest her words. There’s no goodbye or reply as he follows behind Jo like a puppy on her heel. As he’s hurried away, Ducky’s eyes linger on his stumbling frame as the timid smile from her lips falls. The middle March begins to curl into herself as the eldest ushers across the dining, over to her sister. Meg rests her cheek against the side of Ducky’s head as, with her embrace, she shields Ducky from the world’s eye.

“Ducky, tell me plainly and you mustn't lie. Do you fancy him, Teddy?” she asks her younger sister, but both of them already know the answer without speaking. Closing her notepad, Ducky doesn’t even glance up at her sister as she presses her weight into her older sister’s frame. The younger March curls up into her sister’s embrace and folds herself into the young girl that used to hide in Meg’s nightgowns as shrieking thunderstorms raged through the night.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. He’s already in love with Jo,” she mutters into her sister’s chest as she wallows and wades in her own misery. Of course he loves Jo, who couldn’t fall in love with Jo? When she’s basking in the light of her own flowing talent and erudition, everyone falls in love with her. Jo is everything every mother never wants her daughter to be, and, in that right, she is what every mother prays her daughter becomes. She has never changed and, yet, is constantly born anew with each day. Never a lady, but yet an adult, wise yet naive to the weight of the world, everybody is in love with Jo, and this love holds no romantic intention. Rather, it is a deep well of devotion to a person that fills a lover’s stomach and renders one completely whole. To love someone entirely is to find peace within yourself and be content with one’s nature when in the presence of the one you love. So, in this manner, Ducky is entirely in love with Jo.

“It matters a great deal to me how you feel,” her older sister reminds her while strands of Ducky’s hair begin to curl around and hug Meg’s finger, “I’ll always want to hear about your feelings, no matter how large or pointless they may seem.” Silently, the two of them bask in each other’s embrace, and, without a word, Ducky knows her older sister understands her emotions inside & out. In her arms, she feels protected from everything, come snow or hail. In her arms, she is safe to be a young, scared girl.

Please comment & repost, & check out the whole fic :)). If you want me to add u to a taglist, lmk, & please send any laurie x reader drabble/fic requests my way!! I'd love to hear y'alls ideas! Have a lovely rest of your day, friends! <3

#timothée chalamet #theodore laurence x reader #laurie x reader #little women 2019 #laurie laurence #laurie laurence x reader #louisa may alcott #little women #timothee chalamet fanfiction #little women fanfiction #laurie laurence fanfiction

149 notes · View notes

siempre-bucky · 2 years ago

Text

meadow

Robert 'BOB' Floyd x Reader

Summary: A little domestic bliss of spending springtime together on Bob's parent's ranch.

wc: 767

a/n: a lil dad!bob blurb for the springtime :')

The sun had just peeked through puffy white clouds, the shade no longer doing its job. Bob gently took off his glasses, hanging them on the gently frayed neck of his t-shirt; finally closing his eyes, the cool spring air caressing his bare face, the sun creating a pretty shine on his gel-free hair. He let out a small hum of satisfaction and wiggled slightly to create the perfect groove in the blue picnic blanket. There was something special about having leave during the springtime.

“You moved,” you told him in a hushed voice, not wanting to alert the two Floyd girls across the meadow. The girls were in a world all their own, carrying little woven baskets as they plucked vibrantly colored flowers from the ground and showed each other the prettiest of them. A smile was brought to your face as Josephine let out a loud joyous giggle, a butterfly gracefully flying around her.

“Shit,” he muttered, suppressing a chuckle. He could feel daisies in his hair starting to slide from his movement. “Does it still look ok?” he asked, opening one eye to peer up at you from beside him.

You looked away from your book and smiled lovingly at your husband, fingers delicately pushing the tiny white flowers back into place. “There,” you giggled, “Amy won’t scold you now.” Bob carefully moved one of his arms from underneath his head and captured your hand, bringing it close to kiss the center of your palm.

“Jo made you a crown,” he observed, opening the other eye.

Letting out another giggle, you peered out at the young girls in their pastel-colored dresses chasing a butterfly. The crown on your head was carefully curated with soft purples and pinks, little white flowers sticking out and dancing with the breeze.

The girls loved this time of year at their grandparent's ranch, spending most of their time in a lush green meadow tucked in the back of the property with colorful blooms that enchanted their little hearts. Bob knew it was special the first time he brought his eldest as a baby. Amy’s eyes looked at the flowers in wonder, her tiny hand preaching for the flowers that grew along the roof of the little gazebo. It became a play area with Josephine, losing her more than once in the tall flowers; it was a game to her, seeing how long it took him to find her amongst the grass and wildflowers. It was never long, her giggles and excitable wiggles always gave her hiding spot away.

Bob pressed your hand to his chest, his fingers tracing the skin of your knuckles. “Daddy,” Amy huffed dramatically, plopping down behind his head and laying her freshly picked flowers beside him. The strong smell of grass instantly hit his nose. “You moved.”

“Told you,” you teased.

Bob tilted his head backward to look at his daughter's unamused face that was thankfully blocking the sun, “Are all my girls against me?” Bob joked, cracking a bright smile.

“Not me,” Jo said proudly, swatting Amy’s hands away from Bob’s head. “Daddy has to have purple flowers in his crown so he can match mommy.” Jo took a few of the small purple flowers and slid the stems into his soft hair, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Amy rolled her eyes and stood up, making her way to you. You reached out your free hand and pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose, “Do you like your crown, mom?” she asked as she sat in your lap and let you adjust the flowers in her braids.

“It’s the prettiest crown I’ve ever worn, baby bob.”

Bob tightened his grip on your hand, “You’ve never looked better, darlin’.”

A warmth spread across your face as a response to the beautiful man beside you. “You should replace your pilot helmet’s with our crowns!” Jo gasped, her hands flying up into the air in excitement.

You and Bob laughed and he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into his chest. Jo cackled and rolled over slotting herself in between the two of you, her smile so wide you could see the gap her recently loose tooth left behind. The WSO rotated to face his family, propping himself up on his elbow. You clutched onto Amy a little tighter while she fiddled with flower petals and watched Bob take one of the daisies and place it over Jo’s nose to make her laugh again. You smiled fondly at your little family, pressing your cheek to the crown of Amy’s head.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fluff #dad!bob floyd #top gun #top gun maverick #bob floyd imagine

196 notes · View notes

cruel-kaya · 6 months ago

Note

Your pfp is 🫶🏻🫶🏻🧿🧿🌷🌷

And new theme🫂🥹🫶🏻

*faints*

Reason - got a compliment by prettiest girl �� , Ah my little heart couldn't take it

Aur aapki pfp me jo sundari hai hai , she got me singing ~ ye chaand sa Roshan chehra.....

#desiblr #desi aesthetic #mutuals 💎#pyaare mutuals #pyaare pyaare people frrrr

6 notes · View notes

glossykris · 10 months ago

Note

Hi hi :)) I wondered what Damon would look like as a magical girl with his pretty lil dress N blacked out then made this cuz he is infact the prettiest photographer of all time N I 2 want him carnally-

*🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁*

BLACK MAGICAL GIRL! DAMON BAKER MY PRETTY PRINCESS!! XDD

(He’s part of the ✨magical girl! JO polycule✨ cuz ofc he is N it seems he’s wormed his way into the boy’s hearts N the fandoms 🥰🥰)

That is all✨✨✨✨✨✨

hi hello, thank you 🖤

what a pretty little thing to discover in my inbox. i actually really love lolita style dresses (and have occassionally worn them myself)

black and sparkly is just the perfect aesthetic for damon, isn’t it? 🫶🏻

#asks

3 notes · View notes

youraichuwu · 8 months ago

Text

hm? you're talking about Jo? Oh, I love her.

The way she smiles at me and the way she laughs, it never fails me to make my face turn red. I'm not overreacting but I find her jokes funny and I love that about her.

She is perfect and gorgeous. I really admire the trait of hers. I considered myself lucky because out of many people, boys or girls, you chose me. Sometimes it makes me wonder how come you fell in love with me because I am not good enough for you. It feels like a dream, luckily it's not. I've cherished the memories we made together and I wished that I can make more memories with her. I've always been afraid that one day that we'd stop making memories that both of us would forever cherish. I really wish I could still spend time and enjoy my life while she stays with me. But the fact she shows so much love and affection to me and made me think to not worry about losing her. But sometimes I still worry that someday she might leave me. I know that we've spent so much love together that one day in the future we might become strangers.

She shows me the reality of the world. She is the reason why I should still live, all the problems I have are gone because of her, and all my darkness has become light because she entertains me without effort. I didn't realize that I am fully in love with her and I'm even trying to deny it but she is the only answer why I should keep up.

So many people like her, I really don't blame them but sometimes I get jealous and it's hard and embarrassing to admit it. But I remember the sweet things she says to me so before I know it, my jealousy disappears. I should actually get jealous when she flirts or talks with them. I know it's embarrassing to admit it but there's no way she would do that. So, I always try my best to handle my jealousy or "selos".

I really wanna experience romantic things with her and enjoy our teenager phase such as, eating together, photobooth date, kiss her, and there are more that I can't even express. And if we part ways, I really want her to hug me so tightly and we consider it as our last hug. I really love her so much.

She is everything to me, my soulmate, and she's the one. I love everything about her. Gosh, I wish I could hug her today so tight. I know that she also loves me because of the way she talks to me, you know she acts just like my mom and I love that. The way she gets mad and the way she gets clingy to me is like damn I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Every time you tease me, my face always turns red and my heart beats so fast like 500 times.

I don't know how many times I will tell that I love her so but she is the prettiest that I've seen in my life and she is the one who gave my life a meaning. She is the one that I can trust and she is the one that can help me when I'm at the lowest. I love her so much and I'm so selfish because I'm only hers and I will not give her to others. I love her damn it.

0 notes

theyluvkarolina · 8 months ago

Text

౨ৎ GET HIM BACK! ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ After heartbreak, Y/N decides she’s done with rich men in Formula One. Well, that’s what she thought at first. Besides, what better way to get back at your ex that does competitive sports than to get with his main rival?

PAIRING ౨ৎ Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader, Ex!Max Verstappen x Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ Mentions of Jos and some slut shaming (not saying directly)

A/N ౨ৎ oh how i love this sorta trope. Will be working on one more request!

Part 2 of `` 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ``

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n.l/n ✔︎

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, roscoelovescoco and others

y/n.l/n tante y/n spending time with her favorite nephew while mom and dad are out on date day 🩷 (also met a new friend(s) while on a walk🫣!)

tagged ; lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco

3,218 comments

charles_leclerc ✔︎ fatherhood is tiring 😞

→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ i will gladly take leo off your hands 🤗🤗 → charles_leclerc ✔︎ no thank you!!

alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest 🩷

→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ says you 🥹🫶 → charles_leclerc ✔︎ am i interrupting something..? → y/n.l/n ✔︎ yes you are actually

lewishamilton ✔︎ great seeing you!

y/n.l/n you ✔︎ as well! sorry for stopping your run! 😭 lewishamilton ✔︎ no need to worry! it was fun catching up 👊 landonorris ✔︎ “interuppted your run” uh huh… 😏 roscoelovescoco should have brought snacks

username1 LEO LECLERC!! 🗣️ 🔥

→ username2 leo *SAINT-MLEUX leclerc

username3 TANTE Y/N!!

→ username4 she can be my aunt anytime → username5 i’m tired of this @ username4.

username6 ROSCOE MENTION

username7 the lewis hamilton tag??? 🤨

→ username8 NO BECAUSE WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS?? → username9 call me delusional but what if lewis and y/n get together 🤭🤭 → username10 yeah you’re delusional!! → username11 i mean… considering they both live in monaco and it’s break right now for f1… i wouldn't be surprised if they start getting friendly

username12 her outfit is so 😍😍

lewishamilton ✔︎

📍 Monaco

liked by kimi.antonelli, tommyhilfiger, irinashayk, and others

lewishamilton fun day out 📸

4,971 comments

username13 lewis serving as usual 🥱

username14 UHM…. SIR LEWIS CARL DAVIDSON HAMILTON… WHO IS THAT WOMAN?

→ username15 based off how she dresses and who he recently met, it has to be y/n no way it’s some other girl.

landonorris ✔︎ a new missus??? 🤔

→ username16 tell us what you know @ landonorris. → username17 this is a threat @ landonorris → username18 stalk lewis @ landonorris → landonorris fucking hell guys let me live i’m as lost as you 😞😞🙏

username19 the y/n and lewis collab was something i did NOT know I needed….

username20 we lost him ladies 😞😞👊

→ username21 lost him??? nah we lost HER

y/n.l/n ✔︎ too fun!

Liked by lewishamilton

→ lewishamilton favorite part was when you fell in the water 🤣 → y/n.l/n ✔︎ we promised to not talk about that…

username22 what do you guys know about y/namilton post y/nstappen breakup??

→ username23 bro thinks lewis hamilton will get with max verstappens ex 💀

y/n.l/n ✔︎

📍 Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by lewishamilton, rebeccadonalson, maxverstappen1 and others

y/n.l/n rest and relaxation ☕️ 🌞

3,210 comments

username24 my girl knew the assignment

→ username25 and got graded a 8/8 🤭🤭

lewishamilton ✔︎ oh wow 😍

lewishamilton ✔︎ the prettiest girl in the world 💫

→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ oh?? 😳 → username26 UHMM… → username27 lewis… i don’t think you know you’re on your main… → username28 lewis’s comment isn’t wrong she knew how good she looked 😫 → username29 PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD??? → username30 OKAY WE SEE YOU SHOOTING THE SHOTS HAMMY → username31 HAMMY??? 😭😭

username32 the max like???

username33 the way she’s so much more happy now with all the max drama subsiding :(

username34 great now she’s moving on from one driver to another 🙄

→ username35 honestly! i’m suprised no one called her out on that. → username36 champion hopper 😂

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

lewishamilton ✔︎

liked by y/n.l/n, mercedesamgf1, pierregasly, and others

lewishamilton 🩶

tagged ; y/n.l/n

7,654 comments

y/n.l/n ✔︎ mwah mwah 😽

→ lewishamilton ✔︎ ❤️ → landonorris ✔︎ yuck. → carlosainz55 ✔︎ don’t worry guys lando is just jealous. → landonorris ✔︎ jealous??? as if → landonorris ✔︎ okay maybe a bit.

username37 IS THIS THE HARD LAUNCH??🫣

username38 I KNEW THEY ALREADY KISSED BUT DAMN

username39 THEY DIDN’T EASE INTO IT 💀

username40 LEWIS AND YN SAID “fuck the soft launch” 😭😭

username41 Rip max verstappen pre-y/n breakup, you would have loved this baddie…

→ username42 @ username41 nah max didn’t fight for their relationship he doesn’t deserve y/n in her hottie era → username43 @ username42 YOU SPEAK THE TRUTH!!

username22 WTF DID I SAY @ username23

→ username23 i plead the fifth.

alexandrasaintmleux écoute ici, petite merde. tu lui brises le cœur, Charles et moi serons devant ta porte, les couteaux à la main et prêts à frapper. Elle mérite le monde et tu ferais mieux de le lui donner. ❤️ 🤗

→ username44 alex being such a sweet and supportive friend 🥹🫶 → username45 DID WE READ THE SAME COMMENT??? → username46 french speaker here 🙋 i can confirm that alex did infact say how happy she is for y/n and lewis and that she can’t wait for them and y/n and charles to go on double dates!! → username46 that is what i would say but she very much said the opposite!! → lewishamilton ✔︎ oui oui madame. 🫡

TWITTER

2K notes · View notes

hellsitesonlybookclub · 2 years ago

Text

Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Chapters 9-10

IX.

MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR.

"I do think it was the most fortunate thing in the world that those children should have the measles just now," said Meg, one April day, as she stood packing the "go abroady" trunk in her room, surrounded by her sisters.

"And so nice of Annie Moffat not to forget her promise. A whole fortnight of fun will be regularly splendid," replied Jo, looking like a windmill, as she folded skirts with her long arms.

105 "And such lovely weather; I'm so glad of that," added Beth, tidily sorting neck and hair ribbons in her best box, lent for the great occasion.

"I wish I was going to have a fine time, and wear all these nice things," said Amy, with her mouth full of pins, as she artistically replenished her sister's cushion.

"I wish you were all going; but, as you can't, I shall keep my adventures to tell you when I come back. I'm sure it's the least I can do, when you have been so kind, lending me things, and helping me get ready," said Meg, glancing round the room at the very simple outfit, which seemed nearly perfect in their eyes.

"What did mother give you out of the treasure-box?" asked Amy, who had not been present at the opening of a certain cedar chest, in which Mrs. March kept a few relics of past splendor, as gifts for her girls when the proper time came.

"A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue sash. I wanted the violet silk; but there isn't time to make it over, so I must be contented with my old tarlatan."

"It will look nicely over my new muslin skirt, and the sash will set it off beautifully. I wish I hadn't smashed my coral bracelet, for you might have had it," said Jo, who loved to give and lend, but whose possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use.

"There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure-box; but mother said real flowers were the prettiest ornament for a young girl, and Laurie promised to send me all I want," replied Meg. "Now, let me see; there's my new gray walking-suit—just curl up the feather in my hat, Beth,—then my poplin, for Sunday, and the small party,—it looks heavy for spring, doesn't it? The violet silk would be so nice; oh, dear!"

"Never mind; you've got the tarlatan for the big party, and you always look like an angel in white," said Amy, brooding over the little store of finery in which her soul delighted.

"It isn't low-necked, and it doesn't sweep enough, but it will have to do. My blue house-dress looks so well, turned and freshly trimmed, that I feel as if I'd got a new one. My silk sacque isn't a bit the fashion, and my bonnet doesn't look like Sallie's; I didn't 106 like to say anything, but I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella. I told mother black, with a white handle, but she forgot, and bought a green one, with a yellowish handle. It's strong and neat, so I ought not to complain, but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie's silk one with a gold top," sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great disfavor.

"Change it," advised Jo.

"I won't be so silly, or hurt Marmee's feelings, when she took so much pains to get my things. It's a nonsensical notion of mine, and I'm not going to give up to it. My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves are my comfort. You are a dear, to lend me yours, Jo. I feel so rich, and sort of elegant, with two new pairs, and the old ones cleaned up for common;" and Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove-box.

"Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her night-caps; would you put some on mine?" she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins, fresh from Hannah's hands.

"No, I wouldn't; for the smart caps won't match the plain gowns, without any trimming on them. Poor folks shouldn't rig," said Jo decidedly.

"I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes, and bows on my caps?" said Meg impatiently.

"You said the other day that you'd be perfectly happy if you could only go to Annie Moffat's," observed Beth, in her quiet way.

"So I did! Well, I am happy, and I won't fret; but it does seem as if the more one gets the more one wants, doesn't it? There, now, the trays are ready, and everything in but my ball-dress, which I shall leave for mother to pack," said Meg, cheering up, as she glanced from the half-filled trunk to the many-times pressed and mended white tarlatan, which she called her "ball-dress," with an important air.

The next day was fine, and Meg departed, in style, for a fortnight of novelty and pleasure. Mrs. March had consented to the visit rather reluctantly, fearing that Margaret would come back more discontented than she went. But she had begged so hard, and Sallie had promised to take good care of her, and a little pleasure seemed 107 so delightful after a winter of irksome work, that the mother yielded, and the daughter went to take her first taste of fashionable life.

The Moffats were very fashionable, and simple Meg was rather daunted, at first, by the splendor of the house and the elegance of its occupants. But they were kindly people, in spite of the frivolous life they led, and soon put their guest at her ease. Perhaps Meg felt, without understanding why, that they were not particularly cultivated or intelligent people, and that all their gilding could not quite conceal the ordinary material of which they were made. It certainly was agreeable to fare sumptuously, drive in a fine carriage, wear her best frock every day, and do nothing but enjoy herself. It suited her exactly; and soon she began to imitate the manners and conversation of those about her; to put on little airs and graces, use French phrases, crimp her hair, take in her dresses, and talk about the fashions as well as she could. The more she saw of Annie Moffat's pretty things, the more she envied her, and sighed to be rich. Home now looked bare and dismal as she thought of it, work grew harder than ever, and she felt that she was a very destitute and much-injured girl, in spite of the new gloves and silk stockings.

She had not much time for repining, however, for the three young girls were busily employed in "having a good time." They shopped, walked, rode, and called all day; went to theatres and operas, or frolicked at home in the evening; for Annie had many friends, and knew how to entertain them. Her older sisters were very fine young ladies, and one was engaged, which was extremely interesting and romantic, Meg thought. Mr. Moffat was a fat, jolly old gentleman, who knew her father; and Mrs. Moffat, a fat, jolly old lady, who took as great a fancy to Meg as her daughter had done. Every one petted her; and "Daisy," as they called her, was in a fair way to have her head turned.

When the evening for the "small party" came, she found that the poplin wouldn't do at all, for the other girls were putting on thin dresses, and making themselves very fine indeed; so out came the tarlatan, looking older, limper, and shabbier than ever beside Sallie's crisp new one. Meg saw the girls glance at it and then at one another, and her cheeks began to burn, for, with all her gentleness, she 108 was very proud. No one said a word about it, but Sallie offered to dress her hair, and Annie to tie her sash, and Belle, the engaged sister, praised her white arms; but in their kindness Meg saw only pity for her poverty, and her heart felt very heavy as she stood by herself, while the others laughed, chattered, and flew about like gauzy butterflies. The hard, bitter feeling was getting pretty bad, when the maid brought in a box of flowers. Before she could speak, Annie had the cover off, and all were exclaiming at the lovely roses, heath, and fern within.

"It's for Belle, of course; George always sends her some, but these are altogether ravishing," cried Annie, with a great sniff.

"They are for Miss March, the man said. And here's a note," put in the maid, holding it to Meg.

"What fun! Who are they from? Didn't know you had a lover," cried the girls, fluttering about Meg in a high state of curiosity and surprise.

"The note is from mother, and the flowers from Laurie," said Meg simply, yet much gratified that he had not forgotten her.

"Oh, indeed!" said Annie, with a funny look, as Meg slipped the note into her pocket, as a sort of talisman against envy, vanity, and false pride; for the few loving words had done her good, and the flowers cheered her up by their beauty.

Feeling almost happy again, she laid by a few ferns and roses for herself, and quickly made up the rest in dainty bouquets for the breasts, hair, or skirts of her friends, offering them so prettily that Clara, the elder sister, told her she was "the sweetest little thing she ever saw;" and they looked quite charmed with her small attention. Somehow the kind act finished her despondency; and when all the rest went to show themselves to Mrs. Moffat, she saw a happy, bright-eyed face in the mirror, as she laid her ferns against her rippling hair, and fastened the roses in the dress that didn't strike her as so very shabby now.

She enjoyed herself very much that evening, for she danced to her heart's content; every one was very kind, and she had three compliments. Annie made her sing, and some one said she had a remarkably fine voice; Major Lincoln asked who "the fresh little girl, with 109 the beautiful eyes," was; and Mr. Moffat insisted on dancing with her, because she "didn't dawdle, but had some spring in her," as he gracefully expressed it. So, altogether, she had a very nice time, till she overheard a bit of a conversation, which disturbed her extremely. She was sitting just inside the conservatory, waiting for her partner to bring her an ice, when she heard a voice ask, on the other side of the flowery wall,—

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen or seventeen, I should say," replied another voice.

"It would be a grand thing for one of those girls, wouldn't it? Sallie says they are very intimate now, and the old man quite dotes on them."

"Mrs M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well, early as it is. The girl evidently doesn't think of it yet," said Mrs. Moffat.

"She told that fib about her mamma, as if she did know, and colored up when the flowers came, quite prettily. Poor thing! she'd be so nice if she was only got up in style. Do you think she'd be offended if we offered to lend her a dress for Thursday?" asked another voice.

"She's proud, but I don't believe she'd mind, for that dowdy tarlatan is all she has got. She may tear it to-night, and that will be a good excuse for offering a decent one."

"We'll see. I shall ask young Laurence, as a compliment to her, and we'll have fun about it afterward."

Here Meg's partner appeared, to find her looking much flushed and rather agitated. She was proud, and her pride was useful just then, for it helped her hide her mortification, anger, and disgust at what she had just heard; for, innocent and unsuspicious as she was, she could not help understanding the gossip of her friends. She tried to forget it, but could not, and kept repeating to herself, "Mrs. M. has made her plans," "that fib about her mamma," and "dowdy tarlatan," till she was ready to cry, and rush home to tell her troubles and ask for advice. As that was impossible, she did her best to seem gay; and, being rather excited, she succeeded so well that no one dreamed what an effort she was making. She was very glad when it was all over, and she was quiet in her bed, where she could think and wonder 110 and fume till her head ached and her hot cheeks were cooled by a few natural tears. Those foolish, yet well-meant words, had opened a new world to Meg, and much disturbed the peace of the old one, in which, till now, she had lived as happily as a child. Her innocent friendship with Laurie was spoilt by the silly speeches she had overheard; her faith in her mother was a little shaken by the worldly plans attributed to her by Mrs. Moffat, who judged others by herself; and the sensible resolution to be contented with the simple wardrobe which suited a poor man's daughter, was weakened by the unnecessary pity of girls who thought a shabby dress one of the greatest calamities under heaven.

Poor Meg had a restless night, and got up heavy-eyed, unhappy, half resentful toward her friends, and half ashamed of herself for not speaking out frankly, and setting everything right. Everybody dawdled 111 that morning, and it was noon before the girls found energy enough even to take up their worsted work. Something in the manner of her friends struck Meg at once; they treated her with more respect, she thought; took quite a tender interest in what she said, and looked at her with eyes that plainly betrayed curiosity. All this surprised and flattered her, though she did not understand it till Miss Belle looked up from her writing, and said, with a sentimental air,—

"Daisy, dear, I've sent an invitation to your friend, Mr. Laurence, for Thursday. We should like to know him, and it's only a proper compliment to you."

Meg colored, but a mischievous fancy to tease the girls made her reply demurely,—

"You are very kind, but I'm afraid he won't come."

"Why not, chérie?" asked Miss Belle.

"He's too old."

"My child, what do you mean? What is his age, I beg to know!" cried Miss Clara.

"Nearly seventy, I believe," answered Meg, counting stitches, to hide the merriment in her eyes.

"You sly creature! Of course we meant the young man," exclaimed Miss Belle, laughing.

"There isn't any; Laurie is only a little boy," and Meg laughed also at the queer look which the sisters exchanged as she thus described her supposed lover.

"About your age," Nan said.

"Nearer my sister Jo's; I am seventeen in August," returned Meg, tossing her head.

"It's very nice of him to send you flowers, isn't it?" said Annie, looking wise about nothing.

"Yes, he often does, to all of us; for their house is full, and we are so fond of them. My mother and old Mr. Laurence are friends, you know, so it is quite natural that we children should play together;" and Meg hoped they would say no more.

"It's evident Daisy isn't out yet," said Miss Clara to Belle, with a nod.

112 "Quite a pastoral state of innocence all round," returned Miss Belle, with a shrug.

"I'm going out to get some little matters for my girls; can I do anything for you, young ladies?" asked Mrs. Moffat, lumbering in, like an elephant, in silk and lace.

"No, thank you, ma'am," replied Sallie. "I've got my new pink silk for Thursday, and don't want a thing."

"Nor I,—" began Meg, but stopped, because it occurred to her that she did want several things, and could not have them.

"What shall you wear?" asked Sallie.

"My old white one again, if I can mend it fit to be seen; it got sadly torn last night," said Meg, trying to speak quite easily, but feeling very uncomfortable.

"Why don't you send home for another?" said Sallie, who was not an observing young lady.

"I haven't got any other." It cost Meg an effort to say that, but Sallie did not see it, and exclaimed, in amiable surprise,—

"Only that? How funny—" She did not finish her speech, for Belle shook her head at her, and broke in, saying kindly,—

"Not at all; where is the use of having a lot of dresses when she isn't out? There's no need of sending home, Daisy, even if you had a dozen, for I've got a sweet blue silk laid away, which I've outgrown, and you shall wear it, to please me, won't you, dear?"

"You are very kind, but I don't mind my old dress, if you don't; it does well enough for a little girl like me," said Meg.

"Now do let me please myself by dressing you up in style. I admire to do it, and you'd be a regular little beauty, with a touch here and there. I sha'n't let any one see you till you are done, and then we'll burst upon them like Cinderella and her godmother, going to the ball," said Belle, in her persuasive tone.

Meg couldn't refuse the offer so kindly made, for a desire to see if she would be "a little beauty" after touching up, caused her to accept, and forget all her former uncomfortable feelings towards the Moffats.

On the Thursday evening, Belle shut herself up with her maid; and, between them, they turned Meg into a fine lady. They crimped 113 and curled her hair, they polished her neck and arms with some fragrant powder, touched her lips with coralline salve, to make them redder, and Hortense would have added "a soupçon of rouge," if Meg had not rebelled. They laced her into a sky-blue dress, which was so tight she could hardly breathe, and so low in the neck that modest Meg blushed at herself in the mirror. A set of silver filagree was added, bracelets, necklace, brooch, and even ear-rings, for Hortense tied them on, with a bit of pink silk, which did not show. A cluster of tea-rosebuds at the bosom, and a ruche, reconciled Meg to the display of her pretty white shoulders, and a pair of high-heeled blue silk boots satisfied the last wish of her heart. A laced handkerchief, a plumy fan, and a bouquet in a silver holder finished her off; and Miss Belle surveyed her with the satisfaction of a little girl with a newly dressed doll.

"Mademoiselle is charmante, très jolie, is she not?" cried Hortense, clasping her hands in an affected rapture.

"Come and show yourself," said Miss Belle, leading the way to the room where the others were waiting.

As Meg went rustling after, with her long skirts trailing, her ear-rings tinkling, her curls waving, and her heart beating, she felt as if her "fun" had really begun at last, for the mirror had plainly told her that she was "a little beauty." Her friends repeated the pleasing phrase enthusiastically; and, for several minutes, she stood, like the jackdaw in the fable, enjoying her borrowed plumes, while the rest chattered like a party of magpies.

"While I dress, do you drill her, Nan, in the management of her skirt, and those French heels, or she will trip herself up. Take your silver butterfly, and catch up that long curl on the left side of her head, Clara, and don't any of you disturb the charming work of my hands," said Belle, as she hurried away, looking well pleased with her success.

"I'm afraid to go down, I feel so queer and stiff and half-dressed," said Meg to Sallie, as the bell rang, and Mrs. Moffat sent to ask the young ladies to appear at once.

"You don't look a bit like yourself, but you are very nice. I'm nowhere beside you, for Belle has heaps of taste, and you're quite 114 French, I assure you. Let your flowers hang; don't be so careful of them, and be sure you don't trip," returned Sallie, trying not to care that Meg was prettier than herself.

Keeping that warning carefully in mind, Margaret got safely down stairs, and sailed into the drawing-rooms, where the Moffats and a few early guests were assembled. She very soon discovered that there is a charm about fine clothes which attracts a certain class of people, and secures their respect. Several young ladies, who had taken no notice of her before, were very affectionate all of a sudden; several young gentlemen, who had only stared at her at the other party, now not only stared, but asked to be introduced, and said all manner of foolish but agreeable things to her; and several old ladies, who sat on sofas, and criticised the rest of the party, inquired who she was, with an air of interest. She heard Mrs. Moffat reply to one of them,—

115 "Daisy March—father a colonel in the army—one of our first families, but reverses of fortune, you know; intimate friends of the Laurences; sweet creature, I assure you; my Ned is quite wild about her."

"Dear me!" said the old lady, putting up her glass for another observation of Meg, who tried to look as if she had not heard, and been rather shocked at Mrs. Moffat's fibs.

The "queer feeling" did not pass away, but she imagined herself acting the new part of fine lady, and so got on pretty well, though the tight dress gave her a side-ache, the train kept getting under her feet, and she was in constant fear lest her ear-rings should fly off, and get lost or broken. She was flirting her fan and laughing at the feeble jokes of a young gentleman who tried to be witty, when she suddenly stopped laughing and looked confused; for, just opposite, she saw Laurie. He was staring at her with undisguised surprise, and disapproval also, she thought; for, though he bowed and smiled, yet something in his honest eyes made her blush, and wish she had her old dress on. To complete her confusion, she saw Belle nudge Annie, and both glance from her to Laurie, who, she was happy to see, looked unusually boyish and shy.

"Silly creatures, to put such thoughts into my head! I won't care for it, or let it change me a bit," thought Meg, and rustled across the room to shake hands with her friend.

"I'm glad you came, I was afraid you wouldn't," she said, with her most grown-up air.

"Jo wanted me to come, and tell her how you looked, so I did;" answered Laurie, without turning his eyes upon her, though he half smiled at her maternal tone.

"What shall you tell her?" asked Meg, full of curiosity to know his opinion of her, yet feeling ill at ease with him, for the first time.

"I shall say I didn't know you; for you look so grown-up, and unlike yourself, I'm quite afraid of you," he said, fumbling at his glove-button.

"How absurd of you! The girls dressed me up for fun, and I rather like it. Wouldn't Jo stare if she saw me?" said Meg, bent on making him say whether he thought her improved or not.

116 "Yes, I think she would," returned Laurie gravely.

"Don't you like me so?" asked Meg.

"No, I don't," was the blunt reply.

"Why not?" in an anxious tone.

He glanced at her frizzled head, bare shoulders, and fantastically trimmed dress, with an expression that abashed her more than his answer, which had not a particle of his usual politeness about it.

"I don't like fuss and feathers."

That was altogether too much from a lad younger than herself; and Meg walked away, saying petulantly,—

"You are the rudest boy I ever saw."

Feeling very much ruffled, she went and stood at a quiet window, to cool her cheeks, for the tight dress gave her an uncomfortably brilliant color. As she stood there, Major Lincoln passed by; and, a minute after, she heard him saying to his mother,—

"They are making a fool of that little girl; I wanted you to see her, but they have spoilt her entirely; she's nothing but a doll, to-night."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Meg; "I wish I'd been sensible, and worn my own things; then I should not have disgusted other people, or felt so uncomfortable and ashamed myself."

She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the curtains, never minding that her favorite waltz had begun, till some one touched her; and, turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said, with his very best bow, and his hand out,—

"Please forgive my rudeness, and come and dance with me."

"I'm afraid it will be too disagreeable to you," said Meg, trying to look offended, and failing entirely.

"Not a bit of it; I'm dying to do it. Come, I'll be good; I don't like your gown, but I do think you are—just splendid;" and he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.

Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting to catch the time,—

"Take care my skirt don't trip you up; it's the plague of my life, and I was a goose to wear it."

"Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful," said Laurie, 117 looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.

Away they went, fleetly and gracefully; for, having practised at home, they were well matched, and the blithe young couple were a pleasant sight to see, as they twirled merrily round and round, feeling more friendly than ever after their small tiff.

"Laurie, I want you to do me a favor; will you?" said Meg, as he stood fanning her, when her breath gave out, which it did very soon, though she would not own why.

"Won't I!" said Laurie, with alacrity.

"Please don't tell them at home about my dress to-night. They won't understand the joke, and it will worry mother."

"Then why did you do it?" said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added,—

"I shall tell them, myself, all about it, and ''fess' to mother how silly I've been. But I'd rather do it myself; so you'll not tell, will you?"

"I give you my word I won't; only what shall I say when they ask me?"

"Just say I looked pretty well, and was having a good time."

"I'll say the first, with all my heart; but how about the other? You don't look as if you were having a good time; are you?" and Laurie looked at her with an expression which made her answer, in a whisper,—

"No; not just now. Don't think I'm horrid; I only wanted a little fun, but this sort doesn't pay, I find, and I'm getting tired of it."

"Here comes Ned Moffat; what does he want?" said Laurie, knitting his black brows, as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party.

"He put his name down for three dances, and I suppose he's coming for them. What a bore!" said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused Laurie immensely.

He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving "like a pair of fools," as Laurie said to himself, for he felt 118 a brotherly sort of right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a defender was needed.

"You'll have a splitting headache to-morrow, if you drink much of that. I wouldn't Meg; your mother doesn't like it, you know," he whispered, leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher stooped to pick up her fan.

"I'm not Meg, to-night; I'm 'a doll,' who does all sorts of crazy things. To-morrow I shall put away my 'fuss and feathers,' and be desperately good again," she answered, with an affected little laugh.

119 "Wish to-morrow was here, then," muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her.

Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did; after supper she undertook the German, and blundered through it, nearly upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in a way that scandalized Laurie, who looked on and meditated a lecture. But he got no chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to say good-night.

"Remember!" she said, trying to smile, for the splitting headache had already begun.

"Silence à la mort," replied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, as he went away.

This little bit of by-play excited Annie's curiosity; but Meg was too tired for gossip, and went to bed, feeling as if she had been to a masquerade, and hadn't enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was sick all the next day, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her fortnight's fun, and feeling that she had "sat in the lap of luxury" long enough.

"It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all the time. Home is a nice place, though it isn't splendid," said Meg, looking about her with a restful expression, as she sat with her mother and Jo on the Sunday evening.

"I'm glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem dull and poor to you, after your fine quarters," replied her mother, who had given her many anxious looks that day; for motherly eyes are quick to see any change in children's faces.

Meg had told her adventures gayly, and said over and over what a charming time she had had; but something still seemed to weigh upon her spirits, and, when the younger girls were gone to bed, she sat thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little, and looking worried. As the clock struck nine, and Jo proposed bed, Meg suddenly left her chair, and, taking Beth's stool, leaned her elbows on her mother's knee, saying bravely,—

"Marmee, I want to ''fess.'"

"I thought so; what is it, dear?"

"Shall I go away?" asked Jo discreetly.

120 "Of course not; don't I always tell you everything? I was ashamed to speak of it before the children, but I want you to know all the dreadful things I did at the Moffat's."

"We are prepared," said Mrs. March, smiling, but looking a little anxious.

"I told you they dressed me up, but I didn't tell you that they powdered and squeezed and frizzled, and made me look like a fashion-plate. Laurie thought I wasn't proper; I know he did, though he didn't say so, and one man called me 'a doll.' I knew it was silly, but they flattered me, and said I was a beauty, and quantities of nonsense, so I let them make a fool of me."

"Is that all?" asked Jo, as Mrs. March looked silently at the downcast face of her pretty daughter, and could not find it in her heart to blame her little follies.

"No; I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether abominable," said Meg self-reproachfully.

"There is something more, I think;" and Mrs. March smoothed the soft cheek, which suddenly grew rosy, as Meg answered slowly,—

"Yes; it's very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have people say and think such things about us and Laurie."

Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats; and, as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg's innocent mind.

"Well, if that isn't the greatest rubbish I ever heard," cried Jo indignantly. "Why didn't you pop out and tell them so, on the spot?"

"I couldn't, it was so embarrassing for me. I couldn't help hearing, at first, and then I was so angry and ashamed, I didn't remember that I ought to go away."

"Just wait till I see Annie Moffat, and I'll show you how to settle such ridiculous stuff. The idea of having 'plans,' and being kind to Laurie, because he's rich, and may marry us by and by! Won't he shout, when I tell him what those silly things say about us poor children?" and Jo laughed, as if, on second thoughts, the thing struck her as a good joke.

121 "If you tell Laurie, I'll never forgive you! She mustn't, must she, mother?" said Meg, looking distressed.

"No; never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you can," said Mrs. March gravely. "I was very unwise to let you go among people of whom I know so little,—kind, I dare say, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you, Meg."

"Don't be sorry, I won't let it hurt me; I'll forget all the bad, and remember only the good; for I did enjoy a great deal, and thank you very much for letting me go. I'll not be sentimental or dissatisfied, mother; I know I'm a silly little girl, and I'll stay with you till I'm fit to take care of myself. But it is nice to be praised and admired, and I can't help saying I like it," said Meg, looking half ashamed of the confession.

"That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not become a passion, and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn to know and value the praise which is worth having, and to excite the admiration of excellent people by being modest as well as pretty, Meg."

Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed; for it was a new thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and things of that sort; and Jo felt as if, during that fortnight, her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow.

"Mother, do you have 'plans,' as Mrs. Moffat said?" asked Meg bashfully.

"Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me; and mothers' lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my 'plans,' and help me carry them out, if they are good."

122 Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way,—

"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg; right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it; so that, when the 123 happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world,—marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing,—and, when well used, a noble thing,—but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace."

"Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward," sighed Meg.

"Then we'll be old maids," said Jo stoutly.

"Right, Jo; better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs. March decidedly. "Don't be troubled, Meg; poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time; make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls: mother is always ready to be your confidant, father to be your friend; and both of us trust and hope that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives."

"We will, Marmee, we will!" cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good-night.

THE P. C. AND P. O.

As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, "I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny;" and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange-tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments; this year it was to be a plantation of sun-flowers, the seeds of which cheerful and aspiring plant were to feed "Aunt Cockle-top" and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned, fragrant flowers in her garden,—sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the bird, and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers,—rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at,—with honeysuckles and morning-glories hanging their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it; tall, white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there.

Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower-hunts employed the fine days; and for rainy ones, they had house diversions,—some old, some new,—all more or less original. One of these was the "P. C."; for, as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one; and, as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table, on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big "P. C." in different colors on each, 125 and the weekly newspaper, called "The Pickwick Portfolio," to which all contributed something; while Jo, who revelled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o'clock, the four members ascended to the club-room, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick; Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass; Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and short-comings.

On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glasses, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and, having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read:—

126

"The Pickwick Portfolio."

MAY 20, 18—

Poet's Corner.

ANNIVERSARY ODE.

Again we meet to celebrate

With badge and solemn rite,

Our fifty-second anniversary,

In Pickwick Hall, to-night.

We all are here in perfect health,

None gone from our small band;

Again we see each well-known face,

And press each friendly hand.

Our Pickwick, always at his post,

With reverence we greet,

As, spectacles on nose, he reads

Our well-filled weekly sheet.

Although he suffers from a cold,

We joy to hear him speak,

For words of wisdom from him fall,

In spite of croak or squeak.

Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,

With elephantine grace,

And beams upon the company,

With brown and jovial face.

Poetic fire lights up his eye,

He struggles 'gainst his lot.

Behold ambition on his brow,

And on his nose a blot!

Next our peaceful Tupman comes,

So rosy, plump, and sweet.

Who chokes with laughter at the puns,

And tumbles off his seat.

Prim little Winkle too is here,

With every hair in place,

A model of propriety,

Though he hates to wash his face.

The year is gone, we still unite

To joke and laugh and read,

And tread the path of literature

That doth to glory lead.

Long may our paper prosper well,

Our club unbroken be,

And coming years their blessings pour

On the useful, gay "P. C."

A. Snodgrass.

THE MASKED MARRIAGE.

A TALE OF VENICE.

Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count de Adelon. Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower-girls, all mingled gayly in the dance. Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air; and so with mirth and music the masquerade went on.

127 "Has your Highness seen the Lady Viola to-night?" asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm.

"Yes; is she not lovely, though so sad! Her dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates."

"By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes, arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand," returned the troubadour.

"'Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who haunts her steps, and is spurned by the old count," said the lady, as they joined the dance.

The revel was at its height when a priest appeared, and, withdrawing the young pair to an alcove hung with purple velvet, he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell upon the gay throng; and not a sound, but the dash of fountains or the rustle of orange-groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as Count de Adelon spoke thus:—

"My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father, we wait your services."

All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a low murmur of amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all hearts, but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an explanation.

"Gladly would I give it if I could; but I only know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end. Unmask, and receive my blessing."

But neither bent the knee; for the young bridegroom replied, in a tone that startled all listeners, as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover; and, leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English earl, was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.

"My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more; for even your ambitious soul cannot refuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady, now my wife."

The count stood like one changed to stone; and, turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph, "To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your wooing may prosper as mine has done; and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have, by this masked marriage."

S. Pickwick.

Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel? It is full of unruly members.

THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH.

Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became a vine, and bore many squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one and took it to market. A grocer-man bought and put it in his shop. That same morning, a little girl, in a brown hat and blue dress, with a round face and snub nose, went and bought it for her mother. She lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the big pot; mashed some of it, with salt and butter, for dinner; and to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg, 128 and some crackers; put it in a deep dish, and baked it till it was brown and nice; and next day it was eaten by a family named March.

T. Tupman.

Mr. Pickwick, Sir:—

I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner I mean is a man named Winkle who makes trouble in his club by laughing and sometimes won't write his piece in this fine paper I hope you will pardon his badness and let him send a French fable because he can't write out of his head as he has so many lessons to do and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and prepare some work which will be all commy la fo that means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time

Yours respectably,

N. Winkle.

[The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.]

A SAD ACCIDENT.

On Friday last, we were startled by a violent shock in our basement, followed by cries of distress. On rushing, in a body, to the cellar, we discovered our beloved President prostrate upon the floor, having tripped and fallen while getting wood for domestic purposes. A perfect scene of ruin met our eyes; for in his fall Mr. Pickwick had plunged his head and shoulders into a tub of water, upset a keg of soft soap upon his manly form, and torn his garments badly. On being removed from this perilous situation, it was discovered that he had suffered no injury but several bruises; and, we are happy to add, is now doing well.

Ed.

THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT.

It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole community.

When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher's cart; and it is feared that some villain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no trace of her has been discovered; and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us forever.

A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:—

A LAMENT

FOR S. B. PAT PAW.

We mourn the loss of our little pet,

And sigh o'er her hapless fate,

For never more by the fire she'll sit,

Nor play by the old green gate.

The little grave where her infant sleeps,

Is 'neath the chestnut tree;

But o'er her grave we may not weep,

We know not where it may be.

Her empty bed, her idle ball,

Will never see her more;

No gentle tap, no loving purr

Is heard at the parlor-door.

129 Another cat comes after her mice,

A cat with a dirty face;

But she does not hunt as our darling did,

Nor play with her airy grace.

Her stealthy paws tread the very hall

Where Snowball used to play,

But she only spits at the dogs our pet

So gallantly drove away.

She is useful and mild, and does her best,

But she is not fair to see;

And we cannot give her your place, dear,

Nor worship her as we worship thee.

A. S.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

Miss Oranthy Bluggage, the accomplished Strong-Minded Lecturer, will deliver her famous Lecture on "Woman and Her Position," at Pickwick Hall, next Saturday Evening, after the usual performances.

A Weekly Meeting will be held at Kitchen Place, to teach young ladies how to cook. Hannah Brown will preside; and all are invited to attend.

The Dustpan Society will meet on Wednesday next, and parade in the upper story of the Club House. All members to appear in uniform and shoulder their brooms at nine precisely.

Mrs. Beth Bouncer will open her new assortment of Doll's Millinery next week. The latest Paris Fashions have arrived, and orders are respectfully solicited.

A New Play will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of a few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen on the American stage. "The Greek Slave, or Constantine the Avenger," is the name of this thrilling drama!!!

HINTS.

If S. P. didn't use so much soap on his hands, he wouldn't always be late at breakfast. A. S. is requested not to whistle in the street. T. T. please don't forget Amy's napkin. N. W. must not fret because his dress has not nine tucks.

WEEKLY REPORT.

Meg—Good. Jo—Bad. Beth—Very good. Amy—Middling.

130 As the President finished reading the paper (which I beg leave to assure my readers is a bona fide copy of one written by bona fide girls once upon a time), a round of applause followed, and then Mr. Snodgrass rose to make a proposition.

"Mr. President and gentlemen," he began, assuming a parliamentary attitude and tone, "I wish to propose the admission of a new member,—one who highly deserves the honor, would be deeply grateful for it, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club, the literary value of the paper, and be no end jolly and nice. I propose Mr. Theodore Laurence as an honorary member of the P. C. Come now, do have him."

Jo's sudden change of tone made the girls laugh; but all looked rather anxious, and no one said a word, as Snodgrass took his seat.

"We'll put it to vote," said the President. "All in favor of this motion please to manifest it by saying 'Ay.'"

A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to everybody's surprise, by a timid one from Beth.

"Contrary minded say 'No.'"

Meg and Amy were contrary minded; and Mr. Winkle rose to say, with great elegance, "We don't wish any boys; they only joke and bounce about. This is a ladies' club, and we wish to be private and proper."

"I'm afraid he'll laugh at our paper, and make fun of us afterward," observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on her forehead, as she always did when doubtful.

Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. "Sir, I give you my word as a gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. He likes to write, and he'll give a tone to our contributions, and keep us from being sentimental, don't you see? We can do so little for him, and he does so much for us, I think the least we can do is to offer him a place here, and make him welcome if he comes."

This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet, looking as if he had quite made up his mind.

"Yes, we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he may come, and his grandpa, too, if he likes."

This spirited burst from Beth electrified the club, and Jo left her 131 seat to shake hands approvingly. "Now then, vote again. Everybody remember it's our Laurie, and say 'Ay!'" cried Snodgrass excitedly.

"Ay! ay! ay!" replied three voices at once.

"Good! Bless you! Now, as there's nothing like 'taking time by the fetlock,' as Winkle characteristically observes, allow me to present the new member;" and, to the dismay of the rest of the club, Jo threw open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag-bag, flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter.

"You rogue! you traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the three girls, as Snodgrass led her friend triumphantly forth; and, producing both a chair and a badge, installed him in a jiffy.

"The coolness of you two rascals is amazing," began Mr. Pickwick, trying to get up an awful frown, and only succeeding in producing an amiable smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion; and, rising, with a grateful salutation to the Chair, said, in the most engaging manner, "Mr. President and ladies,—I beg pardon, gentlemen,—allow me to introduce myself as Sam Weller, the very humble servant of the club."

"Good! good!" cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming-pan on which she leaned.

"My faithful friend and noble patron," continued Laurie, with a wave of the hand, "who has so flatteringly presented me, is not to be blamed for the base stratagem of to-night. I planned it, and she only gave in after lots of teasing."

"Come now, don't lay it all on yourself; you know I proposed the cupboard," broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly.

"Never you mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir," said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. "But on my honor, I never will do so again, and henceforth dewote myself to the interest of this immortal club."

"Hear! hear!" cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming-pan like a cymbal.

"Go on, go on!" added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed benignly.

"I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude for the honor done me, and as a means of promoting friendly relations between adjoining nations, I have set up a post-office in the hedge in the lower corner of the garden; a fine, spacious building, with padlocks on the doors, and every convenience for the mails,—also the females, if I may be allowed the expression. It's the old martin-house; but I've stopped up the door, and made the roof open, so it will hold all sorts of things, and save our valuable time. Letters, manuscripts, books, and bundles can be passed in there; and, as each nation has a key, it will be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me to 133 present the club key; and, with many thanks for your favor, take my seat."

Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on the table, and subsided; the warming-pan clashed and waved wildly, and it was some time before order could be restored. A long discussion followed, and every one came out surprising, for every one did her best; so it was an unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourn till a late hour, when it broke up with three shrill cheers for the new member.

No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, for a more devoted, well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have. He certainly did add "spirit" to the meetings, and "a tone" to the paper; for his orations convulsed his hearers, and his contributions were excellent, being patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic, but never sentimental. Jo regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare; and remodelled her own works with good effect, she thought.

The P. O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully, for nearly as many queer things passed through it as through the real office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and puppies. The old gentleman liked the fun, and amused himself by sending odd bundles, mysterious messages, and funny telegrams; and his gardener, who was smitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love-letter to Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaming how many love-letters that little post-office would hold in the years to come!

#hellsitesonlybookclub #Alcott #Little Women #bookblr

1 note · View note