there can you see me wave

3

Can I Get Your Number pt.5 (Cristiano Ronaldo imagine) 

==============================================================

Achraf and I both looked at the door to see Cristiano leaning on the frame a small smile on his face, “You mind if I borrow her for a second?” He asked

Achraf nodded his head giving me a smile, “Thanks for the ice and brace, Y/N” He said waving

I smiled, “Be careful, and come back if you start feeling uncomfortable again” I said

He nodded, and as he left Cristiano closed the door behind him. I chuckled looking up at him, “What?” I asked

He sighed crossing his arms, “You know having my girlfriend be busy all the time means there’s no time for-”

“Yo Y/N why’s the door close-Hey Cristiano” James said bursting through the door with Marcelo, Marco and Isco behind him

I chuckled as I stared at Cristiano’s annoyed face, “You know sometimes a closed door means something” He said through his teeth

I chuckled smiling at the joyful boys, “What do you guys need?” I asked going around Cristiano

I waited for them to say something but they were staring behind me, and at Cristiano. I looked at him, “Leave them alone, don’t you have to get to the rest of practice?” I asked

Cristiano groaned leaning against my desk not saying anything, “So what did you guys need?” I repeated

Isco spoke this time, “Well we wanted to know if our favorite Doctor ever wanted to get something to eat after work” He asked

I smiled, “That’s sweet, I would-”

“She’s busy after work, we have plans” Cristiano spoke from my chair

We all turned towards him, “I didn’t know you had the voice of a man” Marco said

I chuckled seeing Cristiano’s irritated face, when I turned back to the guys they looked at me, “So do you wanna come?” Marcelo asked

I smiled at him, “I would love to but as mister grumpy pants so kindly said, I apparently have plans” I told him

The guys groaned, “C’mon Cristiano you can come along too” Marcelo said 

Cristiano shook his head, “Don’t you guys have wives or girlfriends or something that requires your time and service after hours?” He asked

“Don’t you?” 

Cristiano nodded, pointing towards me. “She’s my girlfriend, and she requires my time and services after hours” He said

Marco made a face, “Gross man” 

I chuckled shaking my head at them, “You know for some reason I don’t believe you guys actually practice” I said 

They all looked at me, “We do to practice” 

I nodded, chuckling. “Right, then how come you guys aren’t there now?” I asked crossing my arms

“That’s because-”

“That’s because, they left for break and never came back” 

Our heads looked towards the door to see Coach standing there. I chuckled leaning against my desk, “We were coming back” James said “We just had to stop by here before going back to practice” 

I chuckled, “Get back to practice” Coach said shaking his head at the group of boys

They groaned leaving, “We’re eating out after practice” James said

I chuckled, “Not if you have to run extra laps” Coach said

When they had exited the room I chuckled, “Thank you for getting them out of here” I said

“Yes thank you now I can finally be alone with Y/N” Cristiano said

Both Coach and I turned towards Cristiano, I gave him a small smile and chuckled. “I don’t think you were excluded from those laps and getting back to practice” I said

Coach nodded, “You definitely weren’t excluded” He said

Cristiano looked between the two of us, “Y/N” Cristiano said

I chuckled shrugging, “Love you Ronaldo” I said ushering him out of the room

He groaned, “Alright I’m going”

~After Practice

“My legs feel like they’re going to fall off” James complained

I chuckled placing the ice on his legs once more, “You should’ve gone straight to practice” I said

“You know I can’t believe you outed your own boyfriend” Cristiano said laying down on the other bed

Placing  a kiss on his cheek I smiled, “That’s why I told you to leave earlier” I said

Sitting at my desk I decided to finish up my work for tomorrow since the lovely crew of bandits decided to hog up my room like there wasn’t any other doctor’s or medics in the building. After a while I removed the bags off of their legs and put them away, “Alright you guys are good to go” I said

“Good to go, my legs are still on fire” Isco said

I chuckled, “They’ll be fine, just don’t skip out of practice” I said 

They all rolled their eyes, “Shut up”

what's a fire and how does it - what's the word? - burn

so i have this disney playlist i listen to usually when i’m driving and i was blasting poor unfortunate souls this morning and i was thinking

what if ariel didn’t sign the scroll?

because she’s about to, okay, and she looks at the paper. the parchment made of seaweed, the ones that’s specially treated to survive underwater. and she thinks of her cave of treasures, her books that remain perfectly preserved underwater. “no thank you,” she says slowly, becoming keenly aware of air of this place, of the not-people she’d seen who hadn’t been able to pay the price for sea witch’s bargain. “i – no. thank you. but no.”

ursula tries to convince her otherwise, but ariel runs. she goes back to her cave, destroyed as it was by her father’s anger, and thinks.

she’s the daughter of triton. her books never got wet, though she lives in the ocean. she feels a pull inside her, to the land, to somewhere else, but what if – what if –

what if she doesn’t need the sea witch or her father to perform magic for her? what if she has her own?

ursula had wanted her voice because that’s how she performed her magic. singing in this cave had given it powers and protection, and when she saved her prince from the sea – she sang then too, to keep him safe, to guide him back to life and away from death.

so she has magic. she only needs to figure out how to use it.

so that’s what ariel does now. she’s quiet and keeps to herself, and her father and sisters think that it’s because she’s upset with her father, that she’s busy licking her wounds. she’s moved on from that. she has no trident, and is uninterested with fueling her magic with the souls of the damned like ursula has. so she needs to figure something else out.

she does what she’s not supposed to do, and goes where she’s not supposed to go, slipping past the guards and patrols to the one place in the sea that is forbidden to all of them.

the crevice in the earth where what remains of her grandmother lives.

ariel goes to amphitrite, and the sea goddess is so much bigger than ariel, the size of great whale as she curls at the bottom of the sea floor, too old and too tired to do anything more than sleep. “granddaughter,” the great being croaks, opening an eye as blue and as unfathomable as the sea, “you look like me.”

“they say i look like my mother,” she says, and to herself adds: that’s why father can barely stand to look at me.

“you have more of me in you than your mother,” she says, and she shifts and pulls her mass of red hair over her shoulder. “more of me in you than your father does, even.”

“i have magic,” she says, pulling her bravery to the fore as she swims closer to her grandmother, “i want you to teach me how to use it.” amphitrite pushes herself up, and it’s the first time she’s moved in a millennia, and ariel notices for the first time that her grandmother isn’t a mermaid – she has legs.

she has legs.

“you have power,” amphitrite corrects fiercely, “and i will teach you to wield it.”

and so she does. ariel spends her nights by her grandmother, learning to harness the power of the sea that runs in her veins, and sleeps her days away while her sisters and flounder and sebastian grow more and more concerned, but she refuses to tell them why. she refuses to be stopped.

but her heart still aches. she fell in love with her prince, and she wants him still. so she swims to the edge, goes to the beach where his castle resides in the dead of night when her lessons with her grandmother are complete, and sings

. she’s careful not to let any magic leak through, only her voice. she does not want to enchant him. she wants him to love her as she is. so she sings, her voice clear and powerful and cutting through the air. she hopes he can hear it.

then one day a figure walks to the beach, and it’s him, her prince. “hello?” he calls out, “are you out there? are you – please, it was you that saved me, wasn’t it? won’t you come out and let me see you?”

so she does, waves her tail at him until he catches sight of her and takes hesitant, disbelieving steps closer.

“you’re a mermaid,” he says, eyes wide, “i thought i saw – but it couldn’t be.”

“i am, and it can,” she says, heart beating wildly in her chest. he’s just as handsome as she remembered, and she wants him just as much. “my name is ariel.”

“ariel,” he repeats, and pulls off his boots and goes wading into the water, watching her to see if she flinches away from him. she doesn’t, and his strides grow bolder. “my name is eric.”

“eric,” she whispers, and when he’s close enough he touches her, trailing fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder and tangling them in her hair.

when he kisses her, she feels powerful enough to undo the world.

so there’s that now, spending her nights with her grandmother and her prince, and she knows how to make her own legs now, could walk onto land and be made a queen among the two legged men.

but she’s a princess here first, and before she can do that she needs to take care of something.

ursula.

the rotten sea witch with her rotten sea magic won’t be allowed to torment her people any longer.

she tells her grandmother, and amphitrite smiles and says, “an excellent decision, child. i’ve enjoyed our time together, but i think it’s time for me to sleep once more. i’ve taught you everything i can.”

and tears prick ariel’s eyes, but she holds them back. she knew that it couldn’t be forever, that her grandmother can’t die but no longer desires to live and this is the in-between.

“you’ll be an amazing queen,” amphitrite murmurs, and closes her eyes for a millennia more.

this isn’t something to be done in the dead of night, although it would be easier to do it then.

she will make a spectacle of it, she will remind the sea that her people are not to be trifled with.

once upon a time they feared a blue eyed, red haired sea queen with the power to destroy them all. it’s time for them to do so again.

so she drives ursula to the center of the city. her sisters cower and people hide, and her father comes rushing forward to save her.

“you’ve committed great crimes against my people,” she says, not flinching as lightning gathers in the sea witch’s hands, “so now shall a great crime be committed against you.”

“foolish girl,” the sea witch snarls.

triton is yelling. he won’t get there in time.

he doesn’t have to.

she doesn’t need to sing anymore. instead she lifts her hands and pulls ursula apart without ever touching her, not only renders flesh from bone but also sets free the souls she’s been hoarding, reverses the magic done to those who’d fallen into the sea witch’s trap.

they all stare at her, her people, her father, and her sisters. she looks to triton and says, “i’m not a little girl anymore.”

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then says, “i can see that.”

all at once everyone’s perceptions are turned sideways about their youngest princess. she commands a power that even her father doesn’t have access to, she’s not depressed and dreamy – she’s powerful young woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

so she does what she wanted to do, she gives herself legs and steps onto the sand and launches herself into eric’s arms. she becomes his bride, and the rumors run rampant of what she is, of where she came from, but they can’t prove anything and so they rule.

they live long, happy lives. ariel is his consort, his advisor, his wife, his tactician, and his best friend. all those years reading drowned books have certainly paid off. she ages herself along with her husband, bears his children and then teaches them they ways of her – their – people.

her husband dies, and she disappears, like the stories of selkie women that everyone whispers around her. their children give their father a sea burial, and vow to see him again one day. what they know and none of their subjects do is this – their father’s body isn’t in that casket.

she returns to her ocean, her legs form into her glittering green tail, and she goes home. she uses her terribly powerful magic, and brings her husband with her. she went from princess ariel of the sea to queen ariel of the land, and now she’s back again.

she’s not quite a teenager, but neither is she the old woman she pretended to be on land. she’s returned her and her husband to the prime of their life, and as she gained legs to be with him, he now gives his up to be with her.

eric becomes a merman, and a prince by virtue of being ariel’s husband.

she returns to her family and her world without missing a beat, and they all welcome her as if she never left, treat her husband with kindness and respect.

because they all know.

it doesn’t matter that she’s the youngest. when, far in the future, triton’s reign ends –

ariel’s reign will begin.

I came up with a “humans as aliens” scenario on the bus and now I’m writing a story snippet.

Karikki was sitting in the ship’s mess when the most recent addition to the crew stumbled into the room and collapsed into a chair with a relieved groan, dropping her head onto the table.

“Rough shift?” ie said, making a sympathetic noise as ie broke off another piece of ir food pack.

Melanie Dupré, recently hired on as a ship’s mechanic and as of one month ago the only human crewmember of the Xanaki Star, mumbled something into the table before lifting her head so that her translator could actually be of use.

“I could swear the ventilation ducts actually hate me personally,” she said. “I’ve been running around all day.” A look of horror crossed her features then, and she groaned again, dragging her hand across her eyes. “And I left my food packs in my room. Goddamn it.”

Karikki churred soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, you can have one of ours,” ie said, getting to ir feet and digging one of the vacuum-sealed silver packs out of the pantry.

Melanie made a noise that Karikki had learned to interpret as grateful and peeled the pack open, looking down at it dubiously. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“We’re nutritionally compatible!” Karikki said. “The captain checked, before we hired you on. Just in case you ran out of your own supplies. It should be fine.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said, breaking off a square of the compressed nutrition block and popping it into her mouth.

A look crossed her face then that it took Karikki a moment to identify: disgust, ie realized. That was disgust–which was made all the clearer when Melanie gagged and grabbed a napkin, spitting the square out into her hand. “Oh my god,” she said.

Karikki could feel ir antennae fluttering anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is that a bad texture for humans?”

Melanie wiped her mouth, scrubbing at her tongue with the side of her hand. She shook her head. “No, the texture’s fine, it’s just like one of our protein blocks. It’s the [——], I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s awful! How can you eat that?”

Karikki flicked ir ear. “Sorry, say that again? I think your translator cut out in the middle. It’s the what?”

“The [——]. It [——] awful. I’m so sorry.”

Keep reading

But you see, it cannot bring back all the tears that had run out from my eyes. It cannot change all the sadness I’ve felt—the terrible feelings I tried to explain. You cannot just catch those waves with your hands and throw them to the ocean again. You cannot just pick those petals from a beautiful flower and regret it afterwards, wishing that maybe it will grow more stunning if you let it bloom on its own way. You cannot just let a bottle fall on the ground and decide to use it again even its sharp edges can painfully tear your palms. Because your sorry cannot change the past. Your sorry cannot change all the things you made me feel. You see, it’s different this time. You cannot just break someone’s heart and make them feel worthless that way—then put the blame on them. You cannot just say sorry for each and everything. You should have known that what you’ve done is wrong especially when you clearly did it intentionally. Especially when you did it selfishly.
—  ma.c.a // Because you’re not really sorry
fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Any valentines headcanons for Victor and Yuuri? Like how they spend it together or if some fan sent anything crazy in the past (Yuuri sending Victor things every year but being too embarrassed to write his name as the sender??)

“Wait, someone actually sent you their used panties?” Yuuri has no idea what kind of a face he’s making, but he hopes it does the sheer disgust he’s feeling justice, because what is wrong with people?

Victor laughs. “On more than one occasion. Most of the time Yakov just sent them to the incinerator.” 

“’Most of the time’?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” Victor says, horrifyingly, then brightens. “I didn’t get to keep any of the chocolates people gave me—for safety reasons, you know—but the plushies were mine to do whatever with. I usually gave them away to sick kids.”

He remembers. It was SKATING’s December 2003 issue cover story. Victor had been in a white doctor’s jacket smiling wide while the two children he had tucked under each arm flashed peace signs. Stuffed animals were strewn across the floor around them like fallen soldiers. He’d taped it into his cubby at Ice Palace until Takeshi joked that they should beat Yuuri up so Victor would come visit him in the hospital. Yuuri seriously considered it. 

“I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff,” Yuuri marvels, holding up an actual wedding invitation. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Victor Nikiforov and Joanne Spiers…

Yuuri gently places it back into the box. Well, chucks it back in, more like.

“Oh! Let me show you my favorite one!” Victor nudges him out of the way to rummage around, eventually coming up with a little blue envelope with a sticker that’s faded with time and oddly shaped. Yuuri squints at it, trying to place it, when it hits him. He goes very, very still.

“I think I was… maybe 16 when I got this one? It was the sweetest letter I’d ever received.” Victor sighs wistfully and cradles the envelope to his chest as though it were precious, spun glass and lace, before handing it over.

If Yuuri’s hands shake a little as he undoes the katsudon sticker on the backflap and slides the piece of notebook paper out, Victor doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he notches his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder to read it along with him.

It’s a little yellow, but the faded images of sakura still comes through behind shaky, painstaking Cyrillic penned to fill the page.  

Dear Victor,

You are the greatest skater in the whole wide world. I am a skater too but I am only 12 years old and I am still learning. I did a triple axel for the first time yesterday! I hope you are proud. Someday I would like to hold your hand and skate with you. We could do a triple axel together. Please wait for me. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I wanted to write back, but they didn’t leave a name or a return address,” Victor says softly, reaching around Yuuri to brush reverent fingers over the page. “Even with the terrible translation, it was the most genuine expression of love I’d ever seen at that time. I brought that letter with me everywhere I went, hoping I might catch a glimpse of that kid in the crowd, or even on the ice. Whoever it was, I hope they continued to skate. I really would’ve liked to have skated with them.”

The boxy letters swim and blur, spreading out until they’re vague blobs, and when Yuuri blinks to clear it, the page is wet. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Hmm?”

Turning in Victor’s arms, Yuuri beams up at him through his tears. “The translation. It wasn’t terrible. Vasiliev-sensei at Ice Palace wrote it out for me and I spent hours practice-copying it to make sure it was perfect.”

He can see the moment realization dawns, because Victor’s furrowed brow ripples and smoothes out, jaw dropping almost into Yuuri’s lap. “You—”

The world tilts dangerously and skews when he’s tackled onto his back, and Yuuri laughs up at the ceiling as Victor presses frantic kisses to his mouth, his neck, the swells of his cheeks and the sides of his nose. He shakes with a giddy sort of joy, drowning under a wave of relief nearly fifteen years in the making, and reaches up to palm Victor’s face—a little older, a little more mature, but still the greatest skater in the whole wide world who was everything to a little boy once. Even more now as a man. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Yuuri murmurs, then leans up and meets Victor halfway.

Okay so we can all agree that Wonder Woman (2017), Dir: Patty Jenkins was a goddamn masterclass in storytelling, especially with the inversion of male-coded language. The “No-Man’s Land” scene gave me chills and every time they played her theme song I wanted to get up and roar. 

But I wish they’d taken it a step further. I wish Ares had been a woman. Maybe, like Diana, she was always the daughter of Zeus, an Amazon sent to free her people. Maybe she was Hippolyta’s firstborn. But she wasn’t satisfied just hiding away from the world, she wanted to make men pay for what they did to her people. It would explain why Hippolyta was so reticent to let Diana learn to fight, lest she go down her sister’s path. 

And it would totally work as a Big Reveal because with people’s basic knowledge of Greek mythology (which was kind of Christianized in the movie anyway) and some clever writing, the audience would assume, like Diana, that Ares was a man. 

It would also be so much cooler as a fight, because instead of Condescending Mustache Man smirking, “You have so much to learn,” Ares could have held her hand out to Diana like so many Amazons had before her and said, “Please. Let me teach you. We can rid this world of men and make it like Themyscira. We can go home.”

I just think it would be so much more compelling, and so much harder for Diana to refuse one of her sisters - her only true sister - who claims to be trying to make the world over into the paradise where Diana grew up, than some mustachioed asshole rying to rip the world apart. 

It also totally shatters the second-wave feminist idea of “women good, men bad,” which is touched on when you see Diana’s rage and Steve’s gentleness, but never really driven home.

If you’re going to subvert male-dominated language, go all the way. Make Ares a woman. 

4

precious jongdae ft. eye contact ♡

Marichat Day 14: Aged-Up Chat Noir

“Marinette, stay behind me,” Chat Noir warned, keeping one arm thrown back behind him in her direction.

Older Chat leaned against the balcony railing, arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. “This really isn’t necessary. I’m literally you.”

Marinette peeked around Chat Noir’s back to study the older man. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course, Princess,” he winked. Chat Noir growled and the older man laughed, waving a hand. “Paon is learning how to use his powers of time travel. I’m the guinea pig. Don’t worry, my Lady will have me back in her arms  within an hour or so.”

“How do you know?” Marinette bypassed Chat Noir’s outstretched arm to his exasperated huff. 

Older Chat smiled at her. “Because it’s already happened for me.” He tilted his head in his younger version’s direction. “I remember it.”

Chat Noir furrowed his brow. “Why come here though? Why visit Marinette?”

“She knows why.” Older Chat gave her a knowing look. 

Marinette’s eyes widened and she blushed. Chat Noir looked at her incredulously. “What does that mean?!”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I think it’s okay. Do you mind if I talk to him alone?”

“What?!” he sputtered. “No. Absolutely not!”

“He’s you, kitty. There’s no one I trust more.” She cupped his cheek and smiled. “You can sit on my bed so you can still see us through the skylight.”

Chat Noir pushed out his bottom lip. “Fine, but I’m coming back up in five minutes no matter what.” He glared at his future self before dropping down through the skylight.

“I forgot how stubborn I could be,” Older Chat remarked, giving himself a finger wave.

“You know who I am,” Marinette said softly, stepping closer to him.

“You’re my Lady,” he whispered back. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see you like this again.”

“Like this?”

“Softer.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Just know it does me good to see you like this…to see you with him.”

“Do I tell you…him…” she shook her head. “Am I the one who tells Chat who I am first?”

Older Chat pursed his lips. “I really shouldn’t say anything. You warned me not mess anything up when I came back…”

“Can’t you give me one itty bitty hint, kitty?” she begged with a pleading smile.

Older Chat put a hand to his heart. “Low blow, my Lady. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“My Lady? D-did you just call her…” Marinette spun to see Chat Noir’s head poking out of the skylight. “Marinette?”

Marinette looked at Older Chat in terror. He winked. “You bast–”

A glowing blue light erupted from behind Older Chat, cutting off Marinette. “Come on, love. It’s time to come back home,” a familar voice said as a slender arm reached through the blue light. 

Older Chat kissed the hand reaching for him and turned back to the young pair. “See you in a few years, my Lady,” he said with a grin to Marinette. “Enjoy tonight, Adrien,” he finished with a wink before disappearing into the blue light.

Marinette spun on Chat Noir. “Adrien?!” 

home after rain

blue orchids short story

pairing: jungkook | reader
genre: too much fluff.. too much cute
word count: 3.986
author’s note: surprise! \o/ I honestly have no idea how or why this happened. yesterday I just… started writing, and here we are, a few thousand words later. also, bear in mind that this is a sequel to blue orchids, so you need to read that one first if you want to understand this short piece. hope you all enjoy!

This story is set six years into the future within Blue Orchids’ universe.


The sun rays are melting on your skin. It has been a while since the skies opened up like this, leaving the sun bare to the living, its warmth a pleasant gift after days of storm and gloom. The sand under your legs and feet is, fortunately, not scorching — not yet, at least. The early morning is still warming up to the pristine sun, and the salty winds of the beach are still a strange mixture of the growing heatwave and the remnants of past iciness.

You cannot remember the last time you visited the beach, but it does not feel foreign or uncomfortable. It feels like you belong, mind at peace and body molding to the sand as your extended legs allow your toes to brush against the gentle waves that break and ebb away, water still too chilly to enjoy at its fullest.

Keep reading

NHL!Bitty, Part VI -  ‘The Code’

Origin: From Samwell to Seattle | Pens!AU | Part I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping |  Part III - Post-Season | Part IV - RPF | Part V - Dating | 

Eric’s teammates are protective of their highly-publicized rookie. Maybe a little too protective. So, when a closeted!Jack gets flirty and starts flustering Eric on the ice, his Schooner teammates conclude that Zimmermann must be harassing Eric and decide to act accordingly. Leaping to Eric’s defense: starting goalie Markus Bay and defenseman Carter Morin. 

(TW: hockey violence, little bit of blood, big ol’ misunderstandings)


“You seeing this?”

Morin slaps Markus on the shoulder and jerks a thumb toward Zimmermann, who is skating determined circles around Bittle. He stops stretching and watches the Falconers forward come close, say something to Eric, and skate away quickly. This happens twice, each time, Bittle flushes and looks upset, but seems to brush it off and go back to his warm-up drills.

“Do you know what he’s saying?” Markus asks, hoping for some kind of reasonable explaination.

“No, but, just watch, man.”

Zimmermann comes in close again, this time with Mashkov in tow, and Eric doesn’t flinch, but he does something, skating away quickly as the two Falconers laugh. Again, Bittle looks uncomfortable.

“Didn’t they play together?” Markus asks. “Why’s Zimmermann being a dick now?”

Keep reading

Lance and Keith switching bayards but instead of the usual Lance getting the sword and Keith getting the blaster the bayard changes into their own specialty weapon but it changes it’s design by how the other sees them.

Keith holding the blue bayard and it changes it’s whole design into some tricked out fancy sword with beautiful designs at sharp angles decorated with engravings of flowers and gem like splatterings of small jewels that look like stardust going all along the blade like the sky they’re so used to seeing now.

Lance holding the red paladin’s bayard and it turns into an elegant rifle with beautiful swirls that look like the ocean waves with engravings of seashells and the sun. Swirling vines of flowers as pretty and as much of a beautiful blue as you can get going down the barrel of the rifle like it was made for it, like someone took the metal and melted it down and poured it in a mold.

  • What I say: I'm fine
  • What I mean: I can't believe NCT 127 really came through like that. They've literally given me eternal youth?¿ They are a force to be reckoned with and I lie awake in the middle of the night just thinking about how far they've come. Firstly my boy Winwin is making some waves with his dance moves, my other boi Haechan really isn't playing with them visual™ and skin tone of a thousand suns vibes. If you really must know, my other boy, Yuta really came through with them guns. Like did you see his biceps? they fucking squeezed tears out of me eyes and let's not start with Johnny and his "if you're happy and you know it clap your hands," because I'm ready to sell my goddamn soul i
Bygones of the Sun | 03 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 7.8k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03

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Magic > common sense

Context: We had just been on an adventure in our pirate ship, collecting these cursed items, mostly armour and some weapons, that allow the wielder control over an element. We are then faced with a gauntlet of elemental challenges to navigate our ship through things like storm, rocky reef, icebergs ect. once we cleared that we found ourselves at the foot of a 300 ft cliff with a ship sized hole at the top

Cleric: Well we are stuck

Fighter: We could climb it maybe? Do we have enough rope?

Bard (me): Wait a minute *cleric’s name* you can use your shield to control earth right?

Cleric: Yeah?

Me: I have an idea, you can make a big, ship shaped ramp up to that opening right?

Cleric: Oh! Yeah! I can. *To DM* I do that

Other fighter: I see where this is going *To DM* I am going to use my artifact to make an ice sled for the ship

Me: *To DM*I am going to use my artifact to make a small tornado rocket booster out the back of the ship

Wizard: *To DM* I summon a big wave to push us up the ramp 

So our insane plan works and we make a sick jump off the ramp with our ship into this cave 

DM: Well that was interesting. You know I was actually just planning for you to lower the cliff down to the water level. You guys do realize you could have done that instead right?

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

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~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Locked Away

By reddit user Pippinacious

Six months. That’s how long almost half of the new hire last when they become social workers. Some will tell you it’s the pay, others will tell you it’s the stress, still others will complain about poor training or case overload or the broken system. But that’s all bullshit. The reason they quit is always the same; the kids.

Keep reading

5

I first just want to thank God for blessing me so much but I made $4600 last night!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so fucking happy!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

So on my earlier post I mentioned to you guys that I went to a home high limit poker game and worked as a waitress there. So I took my own advice and I texted a few people to see where else I can work. So this girl got back to me to work a poker game with Persian guys. I went there and my eyes kept matching with this guy. He waved over to me and would tip $100. I asked him if he wanted a drink and he said no. Then the third time he gave me money again and said, “STAY” in a stern voice. So I just stood behind him. Then he told me how he just flew in from Dubai and he was tired. And he asked me where I went to school. I told him I never finished school because I didn’t want to go into to debt. He told me school was very important. He asked me how much school was in the US and I told him USC is $50k. Then he told me he will give me $20k a month and he told me to stop working the poker games. He told me he never wants to see me here again! He made me cash out my $600 2 hours into the game and he made me hang out with him. He promised me another $4k by the end of the night.

Well ladies… he delivered. I came home with $4600. He promised to see me again. We’ll see. I’ll be super grateful.

He told me he’s looking for someone to take care of travel with him. He’s not married and single in his 40’s (I’m in my 30’s). He said I would be getting over $20k a month + shopping. But as we all know we get promised in millions and they deliver in thousands… we’ll see. I’m hopeful.

This goes back to my proximity. You need to hang around where rich men are! I’m going to delete my SA. For the time time I spend and the money I get back it’s a joke.

I’m sending on my positive blessed energy to you ladies so you will have good luck too!!!!!!!!! I hope we all make it.

Energy flows to where your attention goes!

Practice

Requested by @captaindanindlovu​. I hope you like it!

Summary: Jared Padalecki x reader. Gen gives Jared and the reader permission to do what they’d like.

Warning: Smut, dry humping

Word Count: 2500

A/N: I’m still new to this RPF thing, so I hope y’all enjoy this! XOXO


Sex scenes aren’t the most comfortable scenes to shoot.

Sex scenes are even more uncomfortable when you’re shooting in front of the guy’s wife, who just happens to be visiting and has been given permission to be on the closed set.

Sex scenes are even more uncomfortable when you’re trying to get over the attraction you’ve developed to said married guy.

And sex scenes are incredibly uncomfortable when the married guy who you’re simulating sex with gets an erection. In front of the visiting wife.

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