I will now relate events that took place in the 94th Olympiad, in the city of Athens. I am Hipparchos, son of Nicomakos, of the deme Euonymos, and though I am now old, I will never forget that day.
I was strolling with friends near the Acropolis when we heard the sky tear apart. An object of shining silver came out of the rent clouds and landed near us. Before our astonished eyes, a door opened, and someone, or something, came out.
“Your headman to take I toward,” said the little green man. We stared at him. Barbarians are, truly, getting stranger by the day.
He hit a box hanging around his neck.
“Take me to your leader,” he said, and now his tones were the purest Attic Greek.
“To Alexias?” I whispered to Pythodoros.
“No,” he replied, “better not bother him. Take him to Socrates.”
“Will he believe that Socrates is our leader?”
“He’s a barbarian,” Pythodoros said. “He won’t know any better.”
So we escorted the little green man to Socrates. All along the way there, he looked around curiously and scanned things with his little box, nodding excitedly as he did so.
Socrates was holding court before his little crowd.
“This is your leader?” the little green man said dubiously.
“He is preeminent among us for his mind,” said Pythodoros, laughing.
The little green man indicated agreement.
“Tell me,” said Socrates, “who are you among men?”
“I am not a man,” said the little green man.
Socrates nodded. “What is a man?” he asked.
“Homo sapiens sapiens. Homo is the human genus, which also includes Neanderthals and many other extinct species of hominid; H. sapiens is the only surviving species of the genus Homo. Modern humans are the subspecies Homo sapiens sapiens, which differentiates them from what has been argued to be their direct ancestor, Homo sapiens idaltu. The ingenuity and adaptability of Homo sapiens has led to its becoming the most influential species on Earth. Homo sapiens sapiens inhabits the planet Terra, in the system Sol, in the Milky Way.”
Many of us were astonished at this speech, but Socrates only nodded again.
“And you are?” he said?
“I am an inhabitant of Xraxas 9, in the Andromeda Galaxy. I am krax kraxis! We laugh at homo sapiens’ feeble knowledge.”
Socrates nodded once more.
“What makes a man a man?” he said.
“Homo sapiens sapiens is distinguished by a lighter skeleton and a smaller brow ridge than homo sapiens neanderthalensis….” Krax continued in this vein for some time.
“Perhaps,” said Socrates. “But is it not behavior that makes a man, rather than his external appearance? Do you have cities on, ah, Xraxas 9?”
“Certainly, Socrates,” he said.
“And do we have cities here, on Terra?”
“And is this city so different from your cities?”
“It is inferior!”
“What is inferiority?”
At this point Pythodoros sneaked away.
“You do not have the technology that we have. With a single finger, I could destroy your entire city.”
“But you are not doing so,” Socrates said mildly. “It is because first, you are acquainted with the nature of virtue, and second, you are disinclined to destroy your fellow humans.”
“I am not human.”
“What is humanity? It is not simply the form of this - ” his tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables “ - homo sapiens sapiens. Is it not also, O man of Xraxas 9, in a shared language, and in shared spirit?”
“I do not speak your language.”
“But I can understand you,” replied Socrates. “What are you speaking, if not my language?”
“It is only through my superior technology that I can understand you.”
“But you acknowledge that we are not beasts? For beasts have no language.”
“And what distinguishes us from you, besides your size and color?”
“I….” The little green man trailed off. He pressed a button on his box and spoke in a guttural language. We heard the screaming in the sky again, and the silver object appeared. The little green man went to join his fellows.
“We will be back!” he said, as they took off into the sky. “Perhaps not in your lifetime, and definitely not in his.” He pointed to Socrates. “But we will return!”
“Ah, Hipparchos,” Socrates said, turning to me. “I find this very instructive.”
Request for a fic. Everyone is joking about professor Sam in Barbour. Could you write a professor Jamie story. Claire is a student but Older and more intriguing than all the young giggling co-eds
…In the meantime, I had this anon ask sitting on my
inbox for some months now – and I’d hate to let this fantasy go unattended!
Those girls were ridiculous, Claire thought.
Madly fluttering their eyelashes as if a constant influx of dust was getting
into their eyes and always bending over, using the pretence of catching a
fallen pen or pencil, only to expose their cleavage. Claire felt she was inside
a documentary on the mating rituals of college girls and, even if slightly
amusing, it also disturbed her in an irrational way.
Health Management was an extra class for her –
a way to get a couple more credits that would speed up her academic course. She
was already almost ten years the senior when compared to the other students
attending Medical School – her years as a nurse had given her a lot of useful
resources, but also made her feel she was constantly battling time. It was an
interesting class, that mixed concepts of health and economics, to ensure the
future doctors based their decisions in cost-effectiveness. In spite of being
well taught and useful, whispering was a constant background noise – clearly
the result of female hormones going rampant. The problem was not the subject,
Claire knew – was the man leading the class.
Professor Fraser was young and remarkably
handsome – his Scottish accent and deep voice, combined with astonishing blue
eyes, which he hid behind black rimmed glasses, inspired great admiration
amongst the women in the classroom. The fact that the class functioned at all
was a testament to Fraser’s capacity of using leadership skills and imposing
A couple of girls next to her giggled and
Claire distinctively heard one of them, a blonde bombshell that undoubtedly
belonged in a house named after a Greek alphabet letter, saying “I would slide my hand bellow his kilt
Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, Claire
continued to sketch with her sharp pencil in the back of her notebook,
struggling to focus again on the contents of the class. The shade in the
external corner wasn’t quite right, she noticed, furrowing her brows in
“Am I boring ye, Miss Beauchamp?” She heard a
voice demanding her attention. Claire looked up and noticed all faces turned to
her, clearly awaiting her reaction to being caught distracted. James Fraser
stood next to the board with his arms crossed, his lips forming a half smile,
expecting her answer.
Yes. “No, Professor Fraser.” She replied
in a casual tone. “I was just taking notes and got distracted. May you repeat
the question, please?”
“I see.” He said in a serious – disappointed? –
tone. “Anyone knows the answer? Miss MacKenzie?”
“Replacing the blood gas machine would be the
best measure.” Laoghaire MacKenzie glowed like a lit candle - marvelled that
for once she had managed to upstage Claire and gain Professor Fraser’s
attentions - offering a victorious look through the corner of her eye, which
Claire blatantly ignored.
“That is correct.” He nodded, raising a brow in
Claire’s direction. “I’d recommend that ye pay more attention to the class,
“I bloody would if it wasn’t for your fan
club.” Claire complained in a low voice, after he had resumed the class.
As the class ended – students rushing to the
door to get to the refectory in time for lunch, talking about a hot party later
that week -, Claire assembled her notebooks and pencil, storing them inside her
green rucksack – made of what looked like army green fabric with a painted red
cross, akin to something a doctor would wear during the Second World War.
“May I talk to you, Miss Beauchamp?” Professor
Fraser asked politely, as she walked down the stairs in direction of the door.
The room was almost deserted, only a couple of latecomers remained inside,
struggling with coats and piles of books.
“Of course, Professor.” Claire stared at him,
“Ye were distracted today.” He pointed, closing
the book he had used to prepare the current subject. “Is something bothering
“No.” She firmly replied, her eyes downcast.
“I’m sure I can’t be the first student you caught daydreaming. Why are you
making such a big deal about it?”
Jamie gave her a concerned look, his blue eyes
wrinkling in the corners. He was sporting a small stubble, that combined with
his impeccable plaid shirt, gave him a look of casual handsomeness.
“Ye are one of the best students in the class.”
He said slowly, neatly placing his books inside his own bag. “I wouldna like ye
to squander yer potential. If something is disturbing ye, I’d like to help ye
if I can, that’s all.”
“It’s fine.” She insisted in a harsher voice,
her hands slightly trembling. “I don’t really need another man to tell me I’m not good enough and can’t handle things. Because
I am quite capable!”
“I’m not saying ye aren’t, Miss Beauchamp.” He
pointed patiently, glaring at her increasingly red face. “In fact, I think I
just said quite the opposite.”
“I can’t focus because all the girls around me
are acting like crazy hens, cackling over you!” She accused in a mordant voice,
going completely berserk despite her best rational alarms going off in the
outskirts of her brain. “I’m here to study – I have so much to learn still and
my age will hurt me in spite of how good I keep proving myself again and again –
and all they can think is to shag the teacher!”
“Ye’re crossing the line, Claire.” Jamie
warned, his voice now low and dangerous. “I might be younger than ye – just a
few years, really - but ye’re not exactly old enough to convince me ye’re getting senile by acting out and being
disrespectful. I am the teacher here.”
you should bloody act like it!” Claire growled, the hammer of anger – and jealousy?
– pounding against her ribs. “Stop being so nice and attentive, because you’re
clearly giving the wrong message!”
“What?!” His mouth was ajar, the pulse on his
temple throbbing in anger. He practically tore his glasses away from his face,
discarding them on the table with a dry sound. “I never made any advances on
one of my students. The mere suggestion my behaviour is borderline unethical is
a verra serious one, Miss Beauchamp. It can get me suspended if anyone in the
faculty board hears it.”
“I’m sorry.” She hissed, fidgeting with the
closing mechanism of her rucksack. “But you have to recognize that you are
young and…handsome.” Claire swallowed her, her voice strangled. “You can pass
the wrong impression just from breathing.”
“Maybe ye should drop this class.” Jamie suggested,
slightly turning away from her in order to shield his face from her sight. “I
can ask Professor Raymond’s permission for you to assist his Alternative
Medicine class. It will give ye the same credits as mine.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I should.”
They stood there, facing each other, their eyes battling when words had failed
“Claire.” He asked, his voice ragged but
softer, warmer. “Who told you ye werena enough?”
“My husband.” She avoided his eyes, twisting
her lips in a grimace. “Ex-husband. He
was a teacher too. Thought I couldn’t handle becoming a doctor – I should
settle to what I already was. He was very vocal about it. That’s why we
“He was wrong.” Jamie said softly, but firmly.
His eyes were all shades of blue – stormless skies, bottomless oceans, rare
wild flowers, starry nights, infinite horizons. “I hope ye ken that. Because I
“Oh.” Claire babbled, feeling utterly
ridiculous after her outburst. He had his long-fingered hands placed on the
desk between them – in her eyes they seemed made to lovingly caress a female
body, to demand responses with brutal kindness, to hold a smaller hand that
could fit perfectly. “Thank you.”
“It has been a pleasure teaching you, Claire.”
He said quietly. “You have a lively mind and a sharp wit. They’ll serve ye
well. Yer age won’t hinder ye, lass – it only makes ye that more intriguing and
“I’m sorry.” She gave him a weak blushing smile,
reinforced by the way he responded with a small grin. “I can be quite…rebellious, when my heels are being
“I have witnessed it first-hand.” He laughed,
brushing his copper hair in a display of nervousness. “Ye seem to have
forgotten one of yer wee notebooks.” And, without waiting for her answer, strode
to the place where she had been sitting, collecting her pad.
She knew he would see it – she had been working
on it for most of the class and had left it open as she hurried to leave. It was
a rough drawing of a blue eye, with a familiar catlike shape – framing it was a
verse from her favourite poem in her stylized hand, “Da mi basia mille”.
He completed, caressing the sheet with his fingertips. “If ye’re not my student
anymore,” He said in a hoarse voice, turning to look at her with a burst of hope
in his eyes. “I’m finally free to ask ye out on a date, as I’ve wanted since
the day I first saw ye sitting on my class.”
“Arch!” You call as you open the front door, “I’m heading over to Pop’s!”
“You want a lift?” Archie shouts from the living room, “We need to pick up some food for dinner tonight anyway,”
“N-No, don’t worry about it,” you falter a little, hoping to get out of the house before he insists on coming with you, “I’ll be back before late!”
“Get extra fries!” he yells as you shut the door behind you.
When you step into the diner, your eyes immediately search for the familiar, beanie-clad head. You find Jughead seated in a booth, busily typing away on his laptop, working on his novel. You stride over to him, giving your order to a passing waitress before sliding into the seat opposite him.
their first kiss probably happens when baze and chirrut are sitting together somewhere and chirrut is talking animatedly about something or the other and for a moment baze is overcome with adoration for that skinny, reckless fool and leans over to silence him mid-sentence and it’s somehow the most natural thing he’s ever done and so worth it for the finger chirrut raises to his upper lip and his astonished eyes as he looks at baze like he’s hung the stars in the sky
All over the internet lately, I’ve noticed people confusing the words “wondering” and “wandering.” For example, “There’s a strange lady wondering around our neighborhood.” Or, “My eyes wondered from face to face looking for anyone familiar.”
The problem with these two examples is that they both use “wonder” in place of “wander,” which is incorrect.
“Wonder” has three meanings:
1) To be curious or uncertain about something. “I wonder what time the mail will get here.”
2) That something is extraordinary or surprising. “The ancient tree is one of North America’s oldest wonders.” Or “After a fall like that, it’s a wonder the glass didn’t break.”
3) That someone is in a state of astonishment or surprise. “Miranda’s eyes were wide with wonder as she gazed at the sparkling gown.”
“Wander” has three meanings:
1) To move without a fixed purpose or destination in mind. “I wandered through the mall to kill time on my lunch break.”
2) To follow a winding course. “The road wandered in and out of the mountains before reaching the sea.”
3) To go away from. “The child wandered away from his babysitter.” “Melinda’s attention wandered during the boring lecture.”
So, a person cannot “wonder down the street” and they should not be gazing at a a statue with “wander in their eyes.” :)
——————————————————————— Have a writing question? I’d love to hear from you! Please be sure to read my ask rulesand master listfirst or your question will not be answered. :)
Prompt: Alexander notices little drawings on your hands and writes on his hands to talk to you. Soon, you’re both covered in words and drawings from your conversations together. Months go by and your friendship grows to something more.
Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x Reader
A/N: This was a request from an anon. I changed up a few things from the original request but I hope that this is still good. I hope you guys like this! My requests are always open so don’t be afraid to send one in, no matter how weird.
You grabbed your coffee order from the counter and found a table to sit towards the back wall. Your back was towards the corner but you faced the whole coffee shop and the window next to you. Carefully laying out all your notebooks and journals, you got comfy in your seat, ready for cramming for tests that were coming up. You wrap your hands around the warm mug and look out the window. The skies were clear and people filled the streets.
Couples walked by hand in hand.
Mothers pulling along their children.
People rushing off to work.
You look down at your table, dreading the work that’s ahead of you. You take a sip of your coffee and set it aside when a figure walks by your table and nearly knocks down all your books off the table. You slam your hands down, keeping them from falling while the man takes a sea two tables away, directly in front of you and sat facing you.
Summary: You are almost 3 months into a relationship with Jughead Jones. You are going through a tough time being too much in your head as the anniversary of “that night” comes closer. Jughead can sense something is wrong.
Warnings: Features sexual content, as well as a rape flashback and parental abuse. Please don’t read if easily triggered.
With your gaze at Jughead, you took a breath and looked to the floor. Your turned back to Archie and after a slight sigh, “How do you like your eggs Arch?”
He smiled, “Anything is fine Y/N…so Juggie….” his eyes went to Jughead behind you. “You okay? I’ve never really seen you like that before…” He was a little shy in asking.
“I’m better now”, Jughead glanced at you. You gave a smile and it was returned.
“Yeah I can see that”. He gave a bashful look to the he both of you. “So….here’s the thing…..you know how when Ronnie gets determined by something, she doesn’t let anything stop her?” He was glancing back to just Jughead now.
While Jughead and you had gotten to the point where you could exchange glances and understand each other - it was nothing on the level of Jughead and Archie. They could have conversations with just looks, it was a sight to see. You turned back to Jughead and saw his face slightly fall and lock your eyes with yours.
“…..what?”. Your curiosity had heightened.
Jughead gave a breath, “is it all of them?”
“Yeah, Betty tried to stop them but she was fighting a losing battle….” Archie’s eyes dropped to the floor looking a little ashamed.
You waved your hands in front of both of them. “What are you two talking about?”
Jughead looked back to you, with his hand now on your shoulder. “Veronica, Kevin and Betty are here….or at least I’m assuming somewhere nearby….” his eyes turned back to Archie.
“They’re in the truck. She kind of demanded it….”.
“Ah. And they sent you in first to make sure?”. You finally got the full conversation.
“Yeah. So should I drive them to Veronica’s or not…because you can say no if you want to Y/N. Betty said they had to agree to that. That it had to be up to you…”. His words trailed again.
You looked back to Jughead who was now next to you holding your hand. “Whatever you want to do Y/N”. He gave a smile but the look of concern was behind it once again.
You took a breath and thought about it for a moment. You looked at the bowl of eggs in front of you, “Okay, but everyone is getting scrambled eggs….”. Archie gave a slight laugh and headed back to the front door.
Jughead tugged at his flannel you had adorned, “You sure? You don’t have to you know”.
“I know. But they’re my friends, and they’re good ones. They obviously have some concern…”
“What is it?” He could tell you were refraining from your words.
“I’m just going to tell them about Chuck and last year. Not everything. Is that alright?” Your eyes were a little watery.
He gave a smile, “Of course. It’s yours to tell. No one else’s”.
You looked at his chest and giggled, “You should probably get something on….”.
He looked down, almost forgetting that he just had boxers on besides the gray beanie. “Oh crap”, he quickly ran upstairs. You yourself buttoned the flannel higher, otherwise you weren’t too worried at how you looked at this point. You cracked the rest of the cartons eggs into the bowl and began to stir the mixture into the pan now hot behind you.
Archie came back to the kitchen and the rest of them had followed in.
Veronica slightly shouted while entering the kitchen, “Y/N! What the hell was all of that?”
“Sorry. She drank a little more….” Betty interrupted before you could respond.
“I stopped over an hour ago”, Veronica was trying to be aware of her voice now.
You heard footsteps coming back down now and were greeted by a fully clothed Jughead.
“Well Heeeeelllllloooo Forsythe”. Veronica gave a giggle while excited to use his formal name.
He gave you a loving glare, “She’s never living that one down you know”.
You giggled, “I said I was sorry about that”.
They were all kind of looking at you now, some with concern on their faces. Betty herself mouthed “I’m sorry” and you just gave her a reassuring nod.
You gave a deep sigh. You looked to Archie, “Grab some plates. I’m making pancakes and the eggs are almost ready. Then we’ll move this to the living room”. You drew your eyes back to your group of friends, “Okay?”
They all nodded while Jughead went around the other side of the kitchen and grabbed some glasses for everyone. He shoved Veronica a glass of water and gave her a look of subtle annoyance.
“Why thank you Forsythe”, she once again gleamed using the name.
He grabbed you a glass of water too and set it down before drinking almost a full one himself. You stopped yourself from giggling and cracking a joke of why he was dehydrated.
You looked over to Kevin, who had a look of concern on his face. He still looked confused by what had happened at Cheryl’s.
With pancakes now on plates next to some scrambled eggs for everyone else, you served Jughead and you last. He looked towards you before heading into the living room with everyone else.
“Yeah I’m sure”, you gave him a peck on his cheek before following him out with your own plate to the living room.
Betty didn’t really even touch her food, knowing some of what was coming. She was in a chair by herself while Kevin, Archie and Veronica were all on the couch together. You put your plate down on the coffee table and sat down at the chair Jughead had got for you. He got one for himself and set it beside you. He took one bite of his eggs and set the plate down himself and the reached for your hand.
Veronica was finishing a pancake when she realized everyone had gotten silent around her. She looked up, “sorry”.
“So why did Jughead punch Chuck? You know…not that I’m complaining about it…” Kevin decided to speak up first.
“Because Chuck was trying to do something”. You gave yourself a breath to prepare your next words.
You then went into what you had told Betty as well as what Jughead learned at Cheryl’s. You went into that night itself and even got to the part of you walking home by yourself. All the while holding and squeezing Jughead’s hand at the parts that were harder for you to tell. They thought that was it, until you went into what you did to yourself, your medication and then proceeded to lift the sleeve on your arm.
You finally looked up to all of their eyes.
Betty had tears again, not knowing the details or the last part and tried to give you a smile.
Kevin had both of his hands over his mouth, shocked while then reaching for Betty’s hand. Archie, sitting in between both Veronica and Kevin, had a rather sad face. You couldn’t tell if he was holding back tears or not. He looked right in your eyes, his jaw a little open in astonishment. And then his eyes led back to Jughead’s. Jughead seemed a little angry while still holding and caressing your hand for comfort.
You looked back to Veronica who had looked angrier than when you told Jughead. She made a fist with her hand and shot up from the couch. Everyone’s eyes were on her.
With a stern voice, the words “I’m going to kill him”, escaped her mouth before she darted to the front door.
“Ronnie!”, Archie leapt up behind her and grabbed her hand before she could make it to the doorknob.
“And now we’ve made a full circle to what happened in the kitchen….”. You had always made jokes when you were uncomfortable and everyone seemed a little thrown off by your statement.
“Sorry, that’s what I do when I’m nervous…” you stood up but before you could finish your words, Kevin’s arms were around you.
He slightly released you and you started to reassure him. You wiped his tear with the flannel sleeve, “Hey, I’m okay now, alright?”
He just nodded, heading back to the spot on his couch.
“Veronica, will you please sit down?” Your eyes looked back to Archie holding Veronica back from the door.
“Fine, but I want to kill him”. Veronica slowly made it back to the couch while releasing her fist.
“Truer words….”, Jughead still sitting on the chair looked back to Veronica.
You gave a look back to Jughead of “not helping” while coming back to your seat.
Kevin chimed in again, “Well, shouldn’t you tell someone?”, you could tell he was choosing his words, “like my dad? Your parents?”. Everyone looked back at you.
You gave yourself a second to breathe, as you figured this question would come up.
“Well it wouldn’t do much good now. With no real evidence, it would just be a “He said, she said” type of case. And I don’t know if I could handle everyone knowing. I have talked to my therapist about it though.“ You paused again, “and I don’t really want to tell my parents. I have you guys, that’s enough”. You looked back to Jughead when you said the last part. His eyes never tore away from you while you were speaking.
You looked back to everyone Betty finally asked something. “Well what can we do?”
You paused and looked at everyone’s faces. It was a new feeling to be surrounded by people that actually cared about you. Besides your brother, you had never really experienced it before.
“You can eat. I think Juggs is about to die from starvation”. You smiled while looking back at Jughead, both Veronica and Betty gave a small laugh, while Archie came back to his spot on the couch. The redhead looked at his food with determination and began to eat. Everyone followed in suit.
A few moments went by, with everyone eating. Jughead not so shockingly finished first and went back to the kitchen for more eggs.
When he sat back down, you finally broke the silence. “So how was the rest of the party?”
Betty’s eyes went towards Kevin’s, as if they had a secret.
Kevin looked up from his plate meeting Betty’s eyes, “I totally forgot!”
All eyes were now on Kevin. And you were happy that something had gotten back to normal - it was if you were back at the lunch table all eating together.
“So Moose grabbed me off the dance floor, and then made out with me in one of the rooms at Thornhill”. Not too surprised by the statement, you looked around. Veronica had seemed engrossed with Kevin’s words now. “But then Midge was looking for him and kind of found us together. He flew out of the room to catch her and I still don’t know what happened. He hasn’t texted me back”. He looked back at his phone and his eyes dropped a little as it seemed there were no new messages for him.
It went around to the others, Veronica talking about how she had to show people what was in a martini, Betty trying to ward of Veronica and Kevin from coming here sooner and Archie talking about the Pussycat’s set and talking about Valerie in all of her musical glory.
Archie offered to take them back to Veronica’s and they agreed to it. Veronica let Kevin take your spot at the sleepover and all had finally gotten up from their seats heading towards the door. Kevin waited for you to fully get up and gave you another hug with a reassuring smile. Betty did something similar and when Veronica reached in for her hug she whispered in your ear, “I will seriously kill him for you if you want to”. You gave a small a laugh and told her it was “okay”.
Veronica looked over to Jughead, “Forsythe” while giving a curtsy. Both Betty and Kevin laughed a little while Jughead rolled his eyes.
Archie gave you a pat on your arm and looked to Jughead telling him to “not worry about the kitchen”.
The door had closed and all you could do was take a deep breath. You were tired and finally ready to sleep. A welcomed feeling since the few nights before, you had tried not to sleep altogether, in fear of your nightmares.
You turned to Jughead.
“So, back upstairs?”, he had looked tired himself.
“Yeah”, you nodded while he reached for your hand leading you back up the stairs.
You entered his room again. The room was dark and he didn’t bother turning any of the lights back on.
He adjusted the blankets and then took off his shirt. “Come here”. He grabbed your hand again, gently kissed your lips all before saying, “you know you’re really brave right?”
You gave a slight sigh, “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I’m just trying to live through all of this….”. Your rolled your eyes back to your feet.
“Nope. You’re brave. Trust me”. He smiled while grabbing the side of your face, bringing your lips back to his. “So how about some sleep?”.
“Sounds good to me”. You both laid on the bed and he pulled the covers over the two of you.
His body faced yours and he leaned in to give you a kiss on your forehead, “I love you Y/N”.
You smiled, put your arms around his side, “I love you too Jughead”.
“Come on. I know you want it…” you tried kicking him. “Don’t fight it…”, he pushed your arms back down and knocked the wind out of you with his knee. “I want you, your making this harder for yourself…”, you tried to scream again and he covered your mouth, “I SAID don’t scream”, he socked you in your side again. You whimpered and began to nod, still crying while giving a small scream to what he was now doing under your dress.
You woke straight up again, and saw the alarm on your phone going off. 6:45, it was the one you had for medication. You swiped it quickly before you turned back to the bed.
“Are you okay?!?”, you saw Jughead’s face looking a little horrified.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright…” you caught your breath. You got up, found your bag and grabbed your meds. “I’m getting a glass of water. Do you want anything?” You finally put your eyes back to Jughead who was now sitting straight up himself.
You went back to the bed and sat next to him. Grabbing his hand, “I’m okay, really. Just a nightmare, promise”. He laid back down, “I’ll be right back, okay?” You gave him a peck on his forehead and made your way downstairs.
The kitchen was clean from the night’s breakfast you had made and you grabbed a glass and did your morning routine of a full glass of water with a pill. You went back up the stairs.
You were greeted by Jughead sitting up in the bed. You closed the door behind you. You took a deep breath, "you want to know….”.
“Yeah. You shouldn’t have to go back there”, his hands were playing with a sheet out of nervousness.
“Look, I get my therapy and my meds because my dad let’s me do that, my mom never agreed to it. And it’s not just me, it’s also my brother. I have to, and again, it’s been better than it has been in years. If something happened, big wise, I promise, I’ll do something. Okay?”. You finally met his eyes.
He nodded while not entirely agreeing to the idea of you going back.
He gave a long pause. “How long do you have until you have to be back?"
"About 1, my dad comes home tonight”. You knew that meant you had to get the house “pristine”.
"Alright, but your mine until then”. He moved the sheets back welcoming you back in and gave a large smile.
He grabbed you in with his arms and once again you fell asleep, in a loving embrace with the feeling of being safe.
Request: babe, i have a request. can you do an imagine of football!ethan? you’d be the responsible, quiet girl, and he’d be the intimidating boy, but good kid. he finds you the most gorgeous creature, and gets all shy when he decides to go talk to you. 🌹
Warnings: swearing, what else do you expect from me
A/N: once again I didn’t stick to the request that much, sorry not sorry!! Anyways I’d like to say that football!Ethan is hot as hell.
You rode in the elevator down to the lobby. The music was awfully cheery and you fought the temptation to roll your eyes at the tune. The doors opened and you stepped into the lobby and made your way outside to where Steve was waiting. You walked out the revolving door and the bitter wind nipped at your cheeks and your nose, instantly coloring them red.
“Oh, so we’re just leaving then?” Steve laughed a little and nodded at you. “You know, you look… great.” He let out a sigh of almost astonishment as his eyes scoured your body.
“Thanks. You look nice too.” You eyed him. He was wearing some dress pants and a blue button down shirt. It was a great combination. His outfit accentuated every part of his body. His biceps seemed like at any moment, they could come busting out of his sleeves. You shook your head and forced yourself to look away.
>>Imagine Legolas trying to flirt with you, but not actually understanding the correct way to flirt, so it’s just an awkward mess and Aragorn has to intervene and tell you what Legolas is trying to say<<
This sounded really cute, so I gave it a shot, I hope y’all enjoy it xx. I had a lot of fun writing it, at any rate.
Word count: 1658
Warnings: again a lot of fluff and a pretty OOC Legolas. I guess it was unavoidable, but I gave my best.
Tomorrow I’ll work on anon’s request *excited* you others: feel free to send me some too!
It all starts when she first sees him alone. No friends. No enemies. Just him, a sketchbook, and two birds in a nest. Its the loneliness that strikes her, not like lightning, but a match. She doesn’t swoon, or fawn, or even crack a grin. Its a tiny flame of interest permeating in her thoughts. When she sees him shove a first year in the halls, or snicker idly with bad influences, her thoughts will flash to the simple boy on the edge of the forest, humming Chopin and drawing the trees. Her friends all know she’s taken a liking to him. Specifically, Luna. Her ‘inner eye’ can sense the romance brewing. Or, perhaps, she simply spoke with Theo. Its no lie that Theodore fancies Lovegood. If you look closely, you’ll see them wade in the lake just past midnight. Its a Friday night when Blaise and Draco finally manage to decode their notes. They trudge into the dormitory, moods covered in molasses. He has a faint smile of relief, knowing the weekend will be no trouble at all, until something odd catches his eye. It isn’t a mess. There isn’t anything. His desk is empty. A bubbling feeling of lava boils inside his gut, threatening to regurgitate his morning tea all over the new sheets. He spins around, platinum eyes trained onto Theo’s sleeping back. ‘YOU RAT!’ With the strength of a magnet, he hurls Theodore out of his sleep, tossing him onto the messy, boy’s dormitory carpet. ‘Draco, what-’ ‘MY LETTERS, NOTT!’ Blaise looks over, unamused. ‘Look, I-I don’t, I, we-your, Macbeth, he-’ Cool. Calm. Collected. That’s all he has to be right now. He crouched down, back straight, expression solid. There’s nothing more terrifying than peace before the storm. ‘Theodore-’ He lifts a hand, brushing away the fallen tendril of charcoal. ‘What did you do?’ ‘I was just sitting, doing my work, and then your bird, Macbeth, the Malfoy owl, the one that you trained, that’s been serving your family since your father came to Hogwarts, Macbeth, he just flew in, and then, since I had a rat’s tail, from Potions, the class we’ve been in together since year one, I gave it to him and he really liked it, so then I pet his head, and he was delivering a package, that I might have eaten a bit of, and then I told Macbeth about your letters, and how you’d never get the courage to send them, and then he just flew off.’ Silence. Draco lowered his gaze, collecting his rage, meeting his gaze, leaning in until their noses brushed. ‘That was a bad decision, Nott.’ A gulp added to the tension. ‘By tomorrow morning, Loony won’t even be able to look at you.’ Theo was finally a dead man. When she hears a rapping at her window, she knows someone is terribly wrong. Its like an omen at the beginning of a horror film, or the waves pulling back before the tsunami. Hesitantly, she flicks her wand towards the knobs, letting an unknown owl enter the room. It spins its head towards her, giant golden eyes peering into hers’, as if judging whether or not she deserved its message. Apparently she did, since Macbeth left without a hoot or stack of letters. Y/n swallowed an uneasy lump in her throat, her mind arguing with her judgement. Judgement lost. Her nimble fingers flicked to a letter with the earliest date. The wind blew into her lungs, as she opened the first of a series of stories.
It seems as though my days are monotonous. Every hour, every minute, and every second I’m swallowed into a world of grey and black. I feel trapped in an earth with no colour or love or meaning. I felt that way, at least. That was until I first saw you. I was out by my thinking tree, completely barren of idea or wonder, when I noticed a young girl weeping. Suddenly, the grey turned into pastel blue, and the black, a willowing taupe. It was muted, but it was colour. I picked up my charcoal and began sketching. My hands were moving all on their own, since I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your hair was wild and your robes were wrinkled. Every bit of you screamed out to me, and I wanted nothing more than to pull you into my arms and sing you to sleep. But fate is not kind. Your tears diminished and your sobs stopped reaching my ears. You left the field and left my sketchbook, a half drawn girl still crying in my pages.
Draco L. Malfoy
She couldn’t know what to think. Draco Malfoy. The boy in her potions class. He’s mean, and arrogant, and an artist. He’s a gory film you want to look away from yet won’t find the strength, because your gut is disgusted but your eyes are astonished, and you can’t seem to pull away. She opens the next letter.
I won the quidditch game today! Slytherin verses Gryffindor, and I caught the snitch! I couldn’t help but look into the stands to see if you were there, and guess what? I found you! You don’t know how much it meant, seeing you cheer for me. I felt like puking up glitter and sinking into a pool of chocolate syrup. I wanted to fly loop-de-loops and scream until my lungs ached. Instead, I smiled at you, and hoped you’d notice. I want to take you flying one day. I’d be a bastard, too, and make sure to take deep dives and sharp turns, just to feel your hands clench around me. God, what I would give to feel you hold me. I’d cut off my hand if it meant getting to hold yours for eternity. If I lost my voice, I’d want to tell you I love you just one time before becoming mute for the rest of my days. Yet, the only words I’ve ever said to you were ‘thank you,’ after you passed me a lacewing fly. I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to speak to you a full sentence, or ever be brave enough to love you, but years from now, when we’re both divorced, I hope to run into you at Diagon Alley, and maybe say three words instead of two.
Truly and Unconditionally Yours,
Draco L. Malfoy
Lowering the letter, her lungs began to contract. Love- a word more powerful than any spell. She could hear her heart beating out of her ears as she began tearing the envelopes apart.
Words began popping out of the pages, letters of longing and praying and lusting and wanting surrounding her conscious like flies to a meal. As she dissected a half written letter dated on February 14th, an alarming knock shook her out of thought. ‘Y/n? There’s someone here to see you. Says he’s got a wrong to make right.’ She didn’t have to guess who it was. The second she opened the door, her eyes met an anxious boy, lips red with bight marks and brows furrowed in fear. ‘Y/n.’ ‘Draco.’ He can’t help but feel honored that she knows his name. At the same time, its met with paralleled trepidation. ‘Have you-er-gottten, or um, received-’ ‘I’ve read your letters.’ It’s a breath of release and a choked gag of horror. She knows. Is it a horrible fate that she realizes his affections, or a blessing in disguise? ‘You have.’ She lifts her gaze to him, digesting his disheveled appearance. He looks like he walked through a hurricane to make it to her door. His hair is a nest from pulling too hard on his locks, and his tie hangs limp after having tightened and loosened far too many times. For a moment, he doesn’t look like Malfoy: the bully, the bad guy, the hopeless, but instead, looks like the boy she watched sketch in the evening, with the gentle soul and kind smile. ‘Go to your tree next Friday at five, after class. I’ll have something waiting for you.’ With a soft click, her door closes, and he’s met with every horrible and remarkable emotion, flooding his ribcage all at once. He can’t know what to feel. All day, his right leg has been racing, jumping up and down in anticipation for what’s to come. When Trelawney bids the class a happy weekend, he flies out the door, legs tumbling down the castle and towards the forest. He’s surprised to find she isn’t there. No Y/n. No sign of her presence. Instead, as he makes his way to the towering oak, he finds sixty two letters, nailed to the bark. He rips them off, finding each page with different messages. His heart stops as he unfolds the first.
I read your first letter today. I could feel my lungs decompress every ounce of air once I realized your deepest desires. I can’t help but feel the same. You’re a magical human being, and the world would be dull without you. It would simply be..monotonous. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go through your sketchbook sometime. Say, right now? If you want to draw a girl smiling and kissing a handsome artist, go to the Room of Requirement. Just wish for me.
You’ve been feeling lonely the past couple of days. Namjoon was always busy with work and your shared apartment was way too quiet without him. On the one day Namjoon was home, he was still glued to his laptop working. You knew you had to do something to relieve some stress off him, but also make sure you got something from it too. After closing the door to the apartment, you walked into your room placing the small paper bag on the bed and emptying out its contents: black lace panties and a matching bra.
You stripped off all your clothes and put on the new underwear then moving to the closet to find a pair of thigh high socks and one of Namjoon’s sweatshirts. After you put on the socks and sweatshirt, you check yourself in the mirror and smiled widely; the sweatshirt reached to your mid thighs just above where the socks stopped and you applied a coat of lipstick onto your lips. Satisfied with your look, you opened the door and walked to the living room where you saw your boyfriend typing away on his laptop. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck from behind and whispered in his ear, “hey Daddy~”
“Baby girl, you know I’m busy.” He sighed, not paying any attention to you. You moved your lips down his neck and slowly started to nip at his skin, soon finding his sweet spot and sucking on it making sure to leave a mark.
“But Daddy, I’m so lonely these days. You never pay attention to me anymore,” You whined as you moved around the couch and sat down on the other side of Namjoon.
“What are you wearing, baby girl?” He asked when he saw what you’re wearing.
“You’re sweatshirt! Don’t I look cute?” You asked, framing your face with sleeve covered hands.
“Of course you look cute, but you can’t do this to me when I’m working.” He whined. Your plan was working.
“Well, what a shame. I thought we could play, but looks like I’m going to have to take care of myself.” You smirked slightly and spread your legs.
Namjoon’s eyes were on the laptop screen so you decided to go further. You pulled up the sweatshirt enough for your new lace panties to show. You stuck a finger in your mouth and sucked on it getting it wet. You nudged his thigh with your foot and when he looked at you, you bit your bottom lip and moved your hand over you womanhood, giving it a stroke with one finger.
“Daddy, play with me. Please,” You could see Namjoon’s chest beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace, his breathing becoming unsteady. “My princess parts are tingling,” You moaned and continued teasing him as well as yourself.
“Kitten, you’re distracting me,” he whined. “This is very important,”
“But Daddy you’re so stressed these days. I think you should relax a bit. I can help you relieve some stress, what do you say?”
“B-baby girl, I really c-can’t,” he began stuttering meaning he was becoming highly turned on and horny.
You moved your lace panties to the side and ran a finger along your slit and over your clit.
“I even bought new panties for you, Daddy. But I guess I’ll have to play alone because you’re being mean and don’t want to help me.” You pouted and stood up from the couch, walking into the kitchen.
You fixed your panties and pulled the sweatshirt back over your thighs, then washing your hands and pouring yourself a drink. After a while, you felt arms wrapping around your waist and turning you around slamming you against the kitchen island. Namjoon was staring at you intently and a devilish smirk- his rough side was coming through.
“You’ve been a naughty kitten, Y/N,” he mumbled as his lips attached to your neck and he sucked all over, leaving marks.
His hands slipped between your bodies and reached your pussy. His slender fingers rested on your panties and he slowly moved one digit up and down making you more wet. You moaned when his finger tickled your clit and a sensation filled your whole body.
“Will you play with me, Daddy?” You asked, moaning.
“Of course, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll regret asking me to play with you when I’m supposed to be working. This pussy Is mine.” He whispered harshly into your ear.
He lightly slapped your womanhood and then picked you up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. He carried you to your shared bedroom, lightly throwing you on the bed and crawling on top of you. He towered over you and attached his lips you yours in a deep, rough kiss. Namjoon pulled away, leaving you panting with swollen lips. He shifted, his hands pushed the sweatshirt up your abdomen and gripped the sides of you panties.
“They’re very pretty and they define your curved beautifully but I think I’d much rather see you naked.” You whimpered at his words, shutting your eyes and lightly nodding.
Namjoon pulled down your underwear, the cold air reaching your warm core. He lowered himself, spreading your legs wide and his tongue darting out licking along your slit, stopping at your clit and softly sucking on it. Your moans filled the room and his tongue moved in small kitten licks on your clit, your hands gripping at his purple hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.
“Harder, Daddy!” Your hands pushed his head further into your pelvis. His tongue dipped lower and pushed inside your walls.
You were panting heavily as your boyfriend tongue fucked your pussy, you were enjoying yourself but you definitely needed more.
“Give me more, Joonie. Fuck me, please,” You whined eagerly. “Please!” Your hips rose off the bed in attempt for more contact.
“Patience, sweet cheeks,” Namjoon said momentarily. His lips left your pussy and he sat up. “Arms up.” He said and you obeyed, he slipped the sweatshirt over your head and threw it on the floor.
He grabbed handfuls of your breasts and played with them, nipping at your nipples through the black lace. He continued biting your nipples until they were perky and poking through the lace and sucked on your skin, leaving small hickeys. Namjoon admired the red marks on your breasts before slipping his hand behind your back to unclip your bra, throwing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Your hands moved to the bottom of his tank top and began pulling it upwards, Namjoon helped you and discarded the shirt onto the floor. Your hands roamed over his chest and over his abs, moving down south along his happy trail before bumping into the belt on his jeans.
“May I, oppa?” You asked, looking at him through your eyelashes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.
“Go ahead, kitten,” You unbuckled his belt and undid the button. Your hands moved over his ass and started to pull his jeans.
“Help me out, please Daddy,” he nodded and took off his jeans, leaving him in just boxers. You moved your hand and grabbed his bulge, growing even harder under your touch. You dipped your index fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down, releasing his big cock.
Namjoon shifted position so that he was on his back and you were on all fours pulling his boxers lower down his legs until they were off and you threw them behind you jot caring where they landed. You stuck your tongue out and licked his balls and up his shaft. His tip was pink and some precum glistened on it. You licked your lips, making eye contact with your already panting boyfriend before lowering yourself down to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Slowly, you began to take him in. You started to bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks to take in even more. Namjoon had gathered all your hair in his hand and was breathing heavily, telling you how great you were doing. You pulled off his cock with a pop and licked your lips, but wrapped your hand around the base of his cock because you weren’t finished. Your slender fingers wrapped around his thick cock was a sight which both you and Namjoon enjoyed. You moved your hand up and down, jerking him off fast.
“Daddy, I want you to come all over my tits.” Hearing you say that, Namjoon groaned and he felt a knot tie in his stomach.
“Baby girl, I’m about to cum,” he was sweating and you just moved your hand up and down even faster.
Namjoon quickly sat up and flipped you onto your back, getting ahold of himself this time, his hand wrapped around his cock. Soon he was moaning aloud and the white substance spilled all over your breasts. The sight of your breasts covered with hickeys and cum was definitely a sight and Namjoon wished he could remember this forever.
“Oppa, you’re staring. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You giggled.
“Would you let me?” His eyes were astonished at what you had said. You nodded and as soon as he got the reply he ran to get his phone. “You’re a very naughty girl, Y/N,” Namjoon commented as he took a couple of photos, you posing for him.
“Can you fuck me now, please?” You asked, rubbing your pussy with your hand, quickly slipping two fingers in.
“Of course. I promised to fuck you so hard that you’ll regret asking because right now I should be working. I will keep my promise. Get on your hands and knees.”
You obeyed and did as asked without question. You heard Namjoon jerking himself again quickly to get hard again before you felt him lining up with your entrance. He moved his tip up and down your slit before pushing in. Your warm core enveloping him and you moaned loudly as his thick cock stretched you out. He began to move in and out slow at first, but his speed rapidly increasing. His balls bounced off your clit from time to time and you were really enjoying it. Unexpectedly, his hand connected with your ass cheek, you moaned in pleasure and Namjoon took it as a good thing and slapping it again. Your right ass cheek soon gained colour: a beautiful, bright red shade. Namjoon’s movements became faster and more rough. His cock impaling you and his hand wrapped around your waist to reach your clit which he circled with two fingers. He’d spank your pussy from the front occasionally, sometimes alternating with your ass. The other hand pulled at your hair, making your head pull back and moan even louder. Your breasts bounced back and forth as Namjoon rocked inside your walls from behind. He gained even more speed; the slapping of skin against skin and moans and groans filled the room. The headboard banged against the wall roughly and the bed frequently creaked.
You soon felt the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening and a loud, lengthy moan slipped past your lips, Namjoon continued rocking his hips into yours pleasuring the pair of you. Your walls convulsed around his shaft and your elbows gave in from the powerful orgasm you had experienced. Namjoon’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass cheek when he moaned and released his second load of the day inside of you. He fell onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his embrace, once of his hands cupping your breast and playing with your nipple. He attached his lips to your in a kiss.
“Thank you,” he mumbled against your lips. You looked at him confused. “For relieving my stress. I really needed it,” You just responded with a kiss, your hand slowly crawling down south and grabbing a handful of his balls.
“I think we need a round two,” You said with a smirk.
Love is something like a whirlpool of crazy insane emotions that thickens and brews in your heart and stomach and mind until you decide that maybe, yeah, you are falling so far in love.
➤ pairing: jungkook | reader ; barista!jungkook ➤ words: 3.4k ➤ genre: a tinge of angst and a wHOLE LOT OF FLUFF ➤ summary: jungkook isn’t good with words, especially with girls whose dumb boyfriends dumped them but miracles do happen on a Saturday rainy night when you showed up drenched and desperate for a hot mug of hot chocolate. ➤ a/n: LATE BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MY LOAF @pennelty honestly i don't know why the heck you want angst but i tRIED so pls love it for me thanks b.
time Jungkook met you, you belonged to another man, hands intertwined with
tender loving eyes that gazed into each others for hours as Jungkook catches on
little remnants and snippets of muffled conversation that were exchanged with
steaming mugs of coffee beneath your noses.
It didn’t instigate any conflicting
emotions the moment your frame enters the little café situated in the corner of
the streets, a canopy from the congestions and city life of Seoul. Yet, as
weeks pass, and your presence became a regular to the baristas and even the
usual customers of the café, Jungkook had taken a fond habit of taking his time
to drink you in every time you stopped by, specifically on late Saturday
afternoons, where the glory of the sun rays dimmed and the chilling air was a
perfect time for a cup of coffee. His colleague, Jimin became suspicious when
Jungkook demanded to work for the Saturday shift, but even frequent squabbles
and interrogations could not get Jungkook to admit anything he had for you.
But like the first time, and every other times, you had been and
always will be belonged to another man; the intimacy and ardent aura that the
both of you radiated stirring unwanted feelings and soon enough, when hand
holding turned to chaste kisses, Jungkook didn’t bother to fight down the
venomous jealousy that spread in his veins like wildfire.
Whatever peculiar dangerous emotions he was
feeling, Jungkook knew he had no reason to intervene, to stop the ruthless battle
in his heart as he watched the beautiful smile of yours, stars that swirled in
your eyes like the galaxies that he maps out in his mind and the dulcet
laughter that brought life to the ever so empty café. And while he unearths his
greatest desires that lie in the heart of a stranger he only conversed in coffee language, Jungkook wishes that he was the very reason for all your
It has officially been one month since
Dralentine’s day! I am super, super excited to reveal to @pottergerms who their
secret Dralentine was!! I am so, so, so
happy to see that you enjoyed it!! Thank you for all of your kind words and for
sharing my work with your lovely followers. Dralentine’s Day was so much fun
and I am already looking forward to next year!
friends are desperate to help find him a date for Valentine’s Day. Considering
his growing list of one-night stands, Harry finds himself desperate enough to
give almost anyone a shot. When a potential date goes awry, there is only one
snake sneaky enough to wrap himself around a love-lost Boy-Who-Lived.
The music was loud.
“Alright there, mate?!”
Sweat dripped down slick skin.
“Do you want another drink?”
There were so many thrumming bodies surging around
them it was hard to see where one male ended and another began.
“I said do you
want another drink!”
And, much to Harry Potter’s displeasure, his
friends had dragged him out with one specific goal in mind.
“What about that guy, Harry?”
To find him a date for Valentine’s Day.
Harry swung his gaze in the direction that Hermione
was pointing and felt his mouth twist into a grimace. He shook his head rather
adamantly at her, only slightly put-out when she pouted.
“Come on, Harry, you’re not even trying!” Ron said
accusingly. “Don’t make me have Charlie drag you over to some random guy—you
know I will!”
He groaned. Charlie had acquired a personal
interest in making sure Harry was… well looked after… come Valentine’s Day. The
bloody tenacious red-head was so damned determined to hook Harry up that he’d
willingly left his dragons for an entire week in order to be the ultimate
“It’s what you do for an adopted brother,” Charlie
had said with a smirk. “You’re the only one left without a partner.”
single too, you know.”
“Yeah but I’m not looking.” Charlie’s smirk had
grown wider. “Perks of being ace, my friend. Besides, you’re getting on in
years, you know?”
“I’m only twenty-five!”
And now they were here, two days before the
fourteenth of February, in a popular wizarding gay club and rifling through
every single male who just happened to be present.
“Is there anyone here
that is catching your eye?” Hermione asked, swirling her drink absentmindedly.
“Not really,” Harry replied honestly.
“Well… why don’t you join Charlie on the dance
Harry gave her a bland look. “Mione, you know I
“Two words, Hermione, Yule Ball,” Ron remarked with a cheeky grin. “Harry has
no coordination whatsoever—aside from quidditch that is.”
“Exactly,” Harry agreed, nodding. “With
little-to-no coordination I’m obviously terrible at sex; it’s probably the
reason I keep having so many flings.”
“Probably just a flail of limbs.”
“No rhythm to speak of.”
“Sloppy kisser too, no doubt.”
“Not to mention my atrocious memory when it comes
to remembering names.”
“Maybe you should start making them wear nametags?”
“Why not number them while I’m at it.”
Harry and Ron guffawed with laughter much to
it’s no wonder you can’t find a date if you’re not even going to be serious
Smiling patiently, Harry downed a mouthful of his
obscenely fruity cocktail Charlie had insisted on getting him. “Mione, we’re in
the one place where finding a ‘Mr Right’ is far and few between. Guys come here
for anonymous sex and one-night stands. I should know, I’m practically a
“You won’t know until you try,” the female replied
persistently. “Ooh, looks like Charlie may have found someone.”
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug. All rights belong to Thomas Astruc and his team.
Summary: In Mr Pigeon, Ladybug was witness to Chat Noir’s allergies to feathers. So was Marinette to Adrien’s allergies after being judged winner of the design competition. What if Marinette actually connected the dots?
Notes: Another repost. I’m also looking for a beta to bounce ideas off, since I love to hear feedback about my work. Message me if you’re interested!
“Is this a joke?” Mr Agreste asked, staring closely at the two identical hats.
Chloe gasped dramatically, stamping her foot. “No fair!”
She crossed her arms, wailing: “Marinette copied my design! It’s scandalous! How could you do that!”
If that weren’t enough, she started crying into the podium dramatically.
Mr Agreste raised an eyebrow at her dramatic behaviour.
“I apologise for the situation, Mr Agreste, but I can prove that this hat is my original design,” Marinette said smugly, her arms crossed as everyone’s attention was drawn to her instead of the wailing Bourgeois heir.
Instantly, Nathalie turned the tablet away from the wailing Chloe to face Marinette.
“Go ahead,” Mr Agreste said solemnly to Chloe and Sabrina’s gasps.
“Uhm,” Marinette began as she took the hat off its podium. “Everything on my derby hat is hand-made, from the embroidery to the weaving of the band to the stitching of the brim.”
Chloe scowled as she realised that Marinette was just about to unravel her carefully laid plan.
“It was all done by myself,” Marinette continued. “And last, there’s a special design element that only the true designer knows about.”
She turned the hat upside down, tilting it to expose the gold embroidery that spelled out her name in elegant gold cursive. “I signed mine.”
Chloe gasped in shock as her hands flew to cover her mouth, accidentally knocking over her podium. Instantly, everyone turned at the sound of the crash as the hat too fell upside down, exposing the gold embroidery.
Chloe ran off, sobbing once more as she departed the school grounds. “Daddy!” she wailed.
Nathalie turned the tablet around to face Marinette once more, Mr Agreste looking impressed.
“Very exquisite creation,” Mr Agreste said approvingly as Marinette blushed, staring at the hat in her hands. “You definitely have the labouring hands of a hatmaker, Miss…?”
“Marinette,” Adrien interjected, placing his hand on Marinette’s shoulder as he gestured at the aspiring designer.
“Congratulations on your demonstration, Miss Marinette,” Mr Agreste continued. “You’re the winner.”
Instantly, Marinette and Alya looked to each other, exchanging looks of glee.
“Thank you, thank you!” Marinette gasped in joy, bowing, her face absolutely ecstatic.
“Adrien will wear your derby on our next advertising campaign,” Mr Agreste continued.
Adrien grasped Marinette’s hands, the girl gasping and blushing at the contact.
“Awesome job, Marinette,” Adrien praised, his emerald eyes meeting sapphire. Instantly the blush grew tenfold and Marinette’s smile grew larger as she met his eyes.
Taking the derby hat from Marinette’s suddenly warm hands, Adrien started to put it on his head… only to stop when he felt a ticklish sensation up his nose.
“Ahh, ahh, ah, ah, ah, choo!” he sneezed, startling Marinette and Alya at its suddenness.
He sniffled, eyes lidded as he wiped his nose. Marinette blinked in astonishment, sapphire eyes wide. Then Adrien’s eyes rested on the shocked looks on the designer and reporter’s faces, and he paused.
“Uh, sorry!” he said, looking apologetic at the two. “I’m allergic to feathers.”
As if to prove his point, he sneezed again.
Marinette gasped in realisation. “Oh!” she said softly, before flinching as he sneezed again. Then a smile graced her face. “Gesundheit!” she called, waving at him.
“Ah, ah choo!” Adrien sneezed again, before sniffling and waving to her. “Thanks,” he said weakly before walking off, presumably to somewhere where he could get some tissues.
Behind him, Marinette exchanged another excited look with Alya, before jumping in the air. “Woohoo!” she cheered as the two laughed in joy.
Then a thought occurred to her, and called a quick “Sorry! Gotta go!” to Alya before chasing after Adrien. “Adrien, wait!”
The boy paused, just about to step foot into the limo, derby hat in hand, and turned to her. “Ah choo!” he sneezed once more, before turning to Marinette.
“What is it, Marinette?” he asked, sniffling.
“Uhh, the derby hat. We could, I mean, I could, not to say you can’t, but obviously you’re the model and all, but not saying you’re not because you’re perfect…”
“Miss Marinette,” Mr Agreste interjected sharply from the screen inside of the limo. “Can you get to the point? We’re on a tight schedule.”
“Yes!” Marinette snapped back, and once more confident and all business. “The feather in the derby hat. I could switch it for something else, since you’re allergic to it. I could use a flower, or maybe a fake feather, or some other ornament for derby hats.”
Mr Agreste raised an eyebrow, before looking at the derby hat in Adrien’s hats. “Impressive, Miss Marinette. Most designers wouldn’t alter their completed and submitted designs, particularly switching out the centerpiece of the design - in your case, the pigeon feather. Very well. Nathalie, clear Adrien’s schedule for the rest of the day. Adrien, go help Miss Marinette pick out a new ornament for the hat, since you are the model and we should make sure that you aren’t allergic to the new ornament, or Miss Marinette’s efforts will be wasted.”
Adrien gaped in shock for a moment, before grinning. “Yes, father,” he said, before closing the limo door. Instantly the car zoomed off, and he sneezed again.
“So, where to first?” he asked.
Marinette pondered it for a moment, a comment from Chat Noir suddenly popping in her head about feathers. It was weird, that both of the blonde-haired, green-eyed boys she knew were allergic to feathers…
“Achoo!” Adrien sneezed again. “Sorry,” he said, sniffling.
“Well, you’re not allergic to flowers, are you?”
“Shouldn’t be.” Adrien said cautiously.
“Great! Then first stop is my house to drop off the hat so you don’t sneeze all the time, then we’ll go to the florist’s to see the flowers!”
“Oh, hello Adrien!” Mrs Cheng said cheerily from the counter of the bakery. “It’s good to see you again!”
“H-hello, Mrs- achoo!”
“Well now Adrien,” Mrs Cheng said cheekily. “I doubt my ancestors had the name achoo.”
“No, no!” Adrien said frantically. “Please accept my sincere apologies.”
“Oh, relax Adrien.” Mr Dupain said, coming out from the kitchen. “She’s just teasing you.”
“Oh,” Adrien sighed in relief. “Hello, Mr Dupain, Mrs Cheng.”
“Now, Adrien, you can call us Tom and Sabine, all of Marinette’s friends do.”
Adrien froze. “A friend?”
Marinette smiled at him. “Yeah, you’re a friend of mine!”
Tom grinned. “A really good friend, actually.”
“Papa!” Marinette exclaimed, before making to drag Adrien upstairs with her. Halfway up the steps, though, she suddenly remembered all of the pictures that were still up on the wall.
“What is it, Marinette?” the three chorused in unison.
“Uhh, nothing. Adrien, why don’t you stay down here? I’ll just put the hat up. It’ll only take a minute, heh.”
Adrien had barely nodded his consent before Marinette ran upstairs like a whirlwind. He shrugged, before he walked down the steps when he heard crashing upstairs. He made to go back up, but Mr and Mrs - ahem - Tom and Sabine stopped him.
“No need, Adrien. This always happens all the time.”
“Really?” He asked dubiously.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Especially in the mornings when she’s in a rush to go to school.”
“Papa!” Marinette exclaimed.
“But Marinette, I’m only telling him the truth!”
Adrien laughed, stopping the incoming banter between the two as they heard him. He stopped for a moment, and smiled nervously.
“Are you staying for dinner, Adrien?” Sabine asked.
“Then he can stay forever!” Tom exclaimed.
“Papa! Mama!” Marinette screamed.
Seeing his cheeky grin, she immediately grabbed hold of his arm and began to drag him out of the bakery door. “Bye Papa! Bye Mama! I’ll see you later!”
“… I still ship them.”
“What flower is that one?”
Marinette blushed. “It’s called a black cat petunia.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a tribute to Chat Noir. After he saved me from the Evillustrator and all.”
Adrien smiled to himself strangely, before looking closer at the flower. ‘An even more fitting tribute than you think.’
He took out his wallet. “How much is it?” he asked the florist.
“What- no Adrien, you can’t pay for me!” Marinette shrieked, still holding the flower.
Adrien handed the money to the florist. “Too late,” he said, smirking.
Marinette glared at him, before she jolted, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “Should we- Ahh, I don’t mean in that way, but oh my god, it’s we anyway - go?”
Adrien stared at her, shocked, for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, I want to see how you’re replacing the feather with a flower.”
“Huh? Haven’t you seen the designers do it? I mean, some of them might replace things like buttons and such, right?”
“I haven’t seen it unless I’m the one wearing the clothes. Models don’t really see the clothes unless it’s the final product. Even then, it’s mostly fixing seams.”
“Oh,” Marinette murmured, rolling the flower in her hand, before her phone beeped. “It’s 4 already. We should get going.”
Then Adrien’s phone rang, and he frowned at seeing the caller ID. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”
He picked up. “Hello, Nathalie?”
Marinette sighed at that. It looked like her time with him was going to be cut short once more.
Adrien hung up. “I’m really sorry about this Marinette, I really wanted to watch you work.”
“It’s okay! Tomorrow’s a weekend, so you can come over and watch me work then!”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
Marinette nodded firmly. “Yeah!”
He smiled - a real smile, not the smaller ones he had at school - and grasped her hand. “Thanks, Marinette.”
“Say, Chat Noir, are you really allergic to feathers?”
“Yeah,” the response came. “Why, My Lady, concerned for this poor alley cat?”
“As if! It’s just that my friend, he’s also allergic to feathers.”
“It’s a common allergy, I suppose.”
“Well, it was weird how I found out, I suppose. I didn’t even know until today!”
He laughed. “Tell me about it! Two of my friends just found out, and one of them was really nice about it.”
“Oh?” Ladybug raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, see, she designed a hat for me, but she used a feather in the design. I kept on sneezing, but I had to wear it, so she generously offered to change it for me - and she dedicated it to me, even! Well, superhero me, but she doesn’t know that.”
Ladybug froze. “What?” she said weakly.
“Yeah, it was really nice of her, right?”
Marinette’s mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. Adrien was blond. So was Chat Noir. They were both allergic to feathers. Chat Noir’s friend had designed a hat for him, and she used a feather in it. Marinette designed a derby hat for Adrien using a pigeon feather. Chat Noir’s friend replaced the feather. Adrien and Marinette had gone searching for a flower to replace the feather that afternoon. His friend dedicated it to Chat Noir. Marinette had told Adrien the petunia was a tribute to him.
“-Lady! My Lady!”
“Adrien?” she said cautiously.
It was Chat’s turn to freeze. “What did you say?”
“Adrien. You’re Adrien. Oh my god, why didn’t I see it before! Oh my god, I’ve been so blind!”
Instantly Chat slapped a clawed hand over her mouth. “Quiet! Do you want the whole of Paris to know?”
She stopped then, but her eyes met his. “So, you’re really…”
“You can’t tell anyone!” he whisper-shouted fiercely, before his expression turned melancholic. “Being Chat Noir is my freedom. If my father knew, he’d trap me in that mansion again. Alone.”
Ladybug touched his cheek. “Oh, Chat.”
“Do you understand now? No one can know.”
She nodded. “No one else, kitty.”
They sat in silence there for a moment, before he spoke up again. “How’d you know that I was Adrien?”
“Well,” she said slowly. “First of all, you’re both blonde. Then, you mentioned being allergic to feathers.”
“Those two are common enough,” Chat said. “It could have been a lot of people.”
“I know. What actually confirmed it for me was your friend. The one who replaced the feather for you.”
“How could that have clued you off?”
“Tell me, Chat,” Ladybug spoke, excitement bubbling inside of her. She knew her most closely guarded secret was about to be given away, but to this person, she would entrust all of her close secrets to.
“Did she happen to replace that pigeon feather with a black cat petunia?”
“What- how did you know?!”
“Look at me, Chat, really look at me.”
For the second time that day, emerald eyes met sapphire. Then Chat Noir let out a soft gasp as he realized he recognised the confidence in those eyes. While he always saw them on Ladybug, it was also in someone else’s eyes - someone who had bested Chloe at her own game and impressed his father earlier that day.
“Marinette?” he breathed.
Ladybug exhaled. “Yeah.”
Then he took a deep breath. “Can I… kiss you now?”
Ladybug gasped softly.
“It’s something I swore to myself during the first Akuma attack. I told myself whoever it was beneath the mask, I’d love the girl. It’s not just because you’re Ladybug, it’s also because you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who’s class representative, the one who beat Chloe down and also impressed my father.”
“Chat,” she breathed, before her eyes glowed with confidence again. “I’ve love you too. Since that day in the rain. When you gave me your umbrella. And also when you’re Chat, the one who saved me from the Evillustrator, and the one who protected me from Timebreaker.”
“I love you.”
They both closed their eyes, and their lips met.
Then their lips parted, and now their eyes met, brilliant emerald meeting glittering sapphire.
No words were needed then. Their eyes met and thousands of words passed between them.
“We were made for each other,” she murmured. “Perhaps even destined for each other. But none of this can happen. It’s a shame. We will have to separate when the day breaks. It can’t be otherwise. We have to separate so as not to hurt each other: destined for each other, made for each other, but the one who created us should have thought of something more. ”
“-Do you believe in destiny, Dandelion? The bard lifted his head and looked at the witcher with eyes wide with astonishment. -Why do you ask me that? -Answer. -Well… yes, I believe. -But do you know that destiny alone is not enough? That there must be something more? -I don’t understand. -You’re not alone. But that’s how it is. It takes something more. The problem is that I… I never knew what that was.”
“-You’ve finally found me! Oh, Geralt! I waited all this time! It took so long… We’ll stay together now, won’t we? Now we’ll be together, right? Say it, Geralt! Forever! Say it! -Forever, Ciri. -It’s just like they predicted, Geralt! Like they predicted… I’m your destiny? Say it! I’m your destiny? Yurga saw astonishment in the eyes of the witcher. He heard Chrysididae’s discreet sobs and felt her shoulders trembling. He knew that he would not understand the answer, but he waited anyway. With good reason: -You’re more than that, Ciri. More than that.”
“Andrzej Sapkowski - The sword of destiny”
Ciri is “something more” in many ways but the most important for me is Ciri being that “something more” for Geralt and Yen, that ingredient needed for their love not to be destructive anymore. Ciri will transform them into the perfect family they are.