and he wonders if he might be dreaming

anonymous asked:

are you talking about bumblebee? hhhh i'm so sick and tired of michael bay and all of his movies... but if i don't love robots and have the mother of all voice kinks... (i might have to see it then)

Yes Bee! He talks and his voice is so smooth it’s like made of red silk, dreams and a serene night in the candle light. And if you got those Bee got you covered

A Perfectly Ordinary Ladynoir Story

In hindsight, falling into Chat Noir’s arms was usually a mistake.

“Are you sure you couldn’t see yourself falling for a guy like me?”  

Ladybug let out a snort, eyes rolling behind the black and red mask as Chat lowered the pair of them to the ground.

“Really?” Ladybug laughed, somewhat incredulously, nodding over Chat Noir’s shoulder. “We got a jilted tailor that’s got the city in stitches-”

“Nice one,” Chat said, tearing through the side streets as red thread chased after him.

“Thank you,” Ladybug said, yo-yo lashing out and batting away a needle zeroing in on Chat’s back. “You really want to bat those eyelashes at me now?”  

“Might be our last chance,” Chat said, leaping up and over the roof-tops and landing in a low crouch, depositing his partner on the rooftop. “Sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me? Maybe one last kiss before the icy hand of death envelops us both.”

“Later,” Ladybug said, throwing an arm out to shield Chat Noir as The Fashionista grappled up onto the ledge, needles clutched in her hands as she zeroed in on the pair before her. “Unless you want to find out what a pincushion feels like.”

“I’ll hold you to that later, Buggi,” Chat Noir said, extending his baton with a flick of his wrist.

“Somehow I knew you would,” Ladybug sighed, latching onto a weather vane and swinging out of the way of a hail of needles as Chat Noir flanked the akuma around the side.


Perched on the edge of the rooftop, Ladybug watched Chat drop the now de-evilized victim on the doorstep of her parent’s house, shooting a salute and a wink at her mother. He was, at his core, a corny little tomcat, who couldn’t miss an opportunity to act like he was auditioning for the remake of The Princess Bride.

Of course, that made it harder for Ladybug to take him seriously.

He was a tease, and part of Ladybug resented Chat for flirting like his words had no effect. Chat had winked, hand-kissed, and flirted his way through every girl they ran into. Even as he left the former Fashionista, he couldn’t part without offering her a kiss on the hand before springing up to the roof where Ladybug was waiting.

“She okay?” Ladybug asked.

“Fine, fine,” Chat said, rolling his shoulders with a small sigh. “Little rattled, of course, but I figured that much; not every day some weirdo brainwashes you and makes you his flunky.”

“That what the hand kiss was for?” Ladybug asked, brow arching in Chat’s direction.

“Was I really supposed to ignore a lady in distress?” Chat snorted, turning to his partner with a slowly spreading smile. “Jealous?”

“You wish, man,” Ladybug snorted.

“…maybe I do,” Chat Noir said, hands leaning on the top of his staff, glancing across at his partner with a small smile that made Ladybug’s heart skip a beat. “I wouldn’t mind if said you didn’t like me kissing other people.”

“You know…you do this thing where you almost look sincere when you say stuff like that,” Ladybug said, head cocking to one side. “I almost forget you’re joking.”

“…when did I ever say I was joking?” Chat replied, soft enough that Ladybug almost didn’t catch it. And it was easy for Ladybug to pretend that Chat’s confession fell on deaf ears; easier than confronting the truth that he might actually be sincere in his endless teasing. Easier than wondering how their relationship might change were Ladybug to call him on his bluff, pull him in by his bell collar, and kiss him so hard he never even dreamed about flirting with anyone ever again.

Instead, Ladybug opted for certainty, offering a fist for Chat to clumsily brush his knuckles against as though they didn’t each want a little more. 


The moment the transformation wore off, Tikki tore into the box of cookies on the desk in a hail of crumbs that scattered over the half-finished calculus homework.

“Hey, hey, watch it!” Nino said, picking the kwami up by her back and pulling her away from his desk. “I don’t think my teachers are going to buy the fact that my pocket-ladybug got food all over my homework!”

“Shorry,” Tikki said, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate chips. “Long day.”

“You’re telling me,” Nino said, flopping belly first onto his bed, the afternoon replaying in his head as Tikki floated over.

“…you know, you wouldn’t be the first Ladybug to fall in love with Chat Noir,” Tikki said, patting the back of Nino’s head as he buried his burning face in his pillows.

“Just…eat your cookies,” Nino groaned.

“The first time I met Jack, I thought to myself: ‘Here’s a gay guy who’s not cynical, who’s not sarcastic, who enjoys life.’ He had so much energy. He was a fifth grade teacher and he’d always get so excited when he talked about his work. He’d produce these plays where he’d let the kids choose their own characters. He’d spend hours writing out their dialogue. And then I’d pretend to be one of the fathers and go sit in the audience. It was so fun. We had so much fun together. But the whole time we were dating, there was always part of me that thought I could do better. I was a fancy lawyer. Jack never seemed ‘cool enough’ for me. And so I left him for a gorgeous twenty-one year old. Jack and I remained friends. We even continued living together. But his therapist told him never to date me again. So he dated other people. And he got sick. Both of us got sick, but Jack was the one who died. And he might have lived if I hadn’t been such a bad person. If he’d been ‘enough’ for me, he’d never have gotten HIV. The funny thing is I’d grown up thinking that I’d never be loved. Then a wonderful person loved me. And I left him to have sex with somebody who wasn’t a wonderful person. Jack died thirty years ago. I dream about him almost every night. It always feels good to see him alive. For a moment, I don’t have to blame myself for his death. I usually ask him for forgiveness. And some nights he forgives me. But other nights he doesn’t.”

Wife

Wife.

She was his wife now. He couldn’t stop beaming at her, as she smiled and twirled and glowed with happiness.

Captain Hook, a married man. Married to the Savior no less, but even so: married.

He recalled the days when he pined after this woman, wondering if she might ever see him as something more than just a pirate.

Only in his most wondrous dreams did he ever think she would be his wife.


Wife.

He stared at the ring on his hand. Somehow, the curse had left it untouched.

A wedding band. His wedding band.

It had been real. No curse could take that from him.

But it could take something else from him: his wife.


Wife.

Climbing the beanstalk without his wife was eerie.

Bloody hell, he’d been teasing her at the time, hoping to unsettle her enough to get her to reveal more information about herself. The more he understood her, the better he could use her.

You never forget your first. How little he’d realized how much that would come to mean.

Last he’d been here, she’d been a reluctant ally who had, hours earlier, been fully prepared to let him die at the hands of ogres.

Now, she was his wife.


Wife.

He was about to see his wife die.

There had been a small glimmer of hope this whole time, that she could defeat prophecy and visions as surely as she’d defeated so much darkness before.

But not now. She’d tossed aside her sword. Gideon was going to run her through, while the rest of them just watched.

While he just watched.

Watched as someone killed his wife.


Wife.

His wife lay in his arms, with her head on his chest. He stared down at her left hand, which rested on top of his right; they’d found her rings in the little ring dish in the bathroom, much to her relief.

He was lying in bed with his wife. He chuckled weakly.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re my wife.”

She laughed gently. “Yeah, I know. And you’re my husband.”

He smiled.

Husband.

Kwami swap: An Adrinoir Story?

I had a very bad day today so I decided to give up on life’s responsibilities and write some totally indulgent (marichat? Ladrien?) sin.

@squirrellygirlart made fanart for this Here

So for the Kwami Swap I have Marinette with the Chat Noir miraculous and her name is Kitten Noir and things get heated with her and Adrien.

So I’m thinking I might make some headcannons for this version of the kwami swap so let me know if you desire more from this universe! Seriously though I have thought a lot about what Marinette would be like with the Chat Noir miraculous.


WARNING: SIN SIN SIN AND MORE SIN!!!!! not for young innocent eyes. No smut.

Marinette had transformed into Kitten Noir and gone out for the night in order to clear her head. She hadn’t intended on running into any problems that night. Unfortunately for her what seemed like an easy job turned into a real big fucking problem. She had stopped the men mugging the woman of course but in the process she had gotten a little injured. She groaned as she vaulted onto the next rooftop pain shooting up her side. Okay a lot injured. She stumbled as she landed on the next rooftop. She looked around her, perspiration dotting her forehead. She was too far from home. She wasn’t going to last much longer without some help. She spotted the Agreste Mansion close by. If I could just make it there, she thought, maybe Adrien has a first aid kit, or could get me some help. The injury wasn’t enough to warrant a hospital visit but if she continued running through the city like this she could lose a lot of blood or tear the injury in her side farther open. Marinette grit her teeth together. If she could time this just right she might be able to make it in a single jump. Taking a deep breath Marinette ran towards the edge of the building pulling out her baton and vaulting off the rooftop extending it as she reached the height of the vault. Marinette thanked the gods above that Adrien’s bedroom window was open. She crashed through the open window and sprawled on the floor wheezing in pain. The movement probably did more damage to the injury than Marinette was counting on.

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TMNT x Reader (Part One).

Imagine your favorite turtle cuddling with you. It’s late and it’s cold and he’s had a stressful day. All he wants right now is to hold you and kiss you and fall asleep. The best part about being in a relationship is that all of those things can happen.

Leonardo is exhausted.
Today has been an exhausting, difficult day. And it seemed like those days were coming along more often.
Sometimes, the line between brother and leader can be confusing and tiring. There are some days when he just wants to hang out and not do anything…but that can’t happen.
He has a job to do.
A job that his family counts on.
So after training and patrol and meditation and butting heads with his brothers, all he wants to do is to crawl in bed. He slowly walks through the dark hallway, his brother’s voices and laughter slowly vanishing from his ears. He approaches the final circular door.
His door. His bedroom. His sanctuary.
He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, pressing his head to worn out wood, lost in thought. He thinks about everything he had to do today and how he will do it again tomorrow and he wonders if it will ever get any easier. He had been the Leader for five years, since he was fifteen, and as he got older his job only seemed to get harder.
Leo sighs and turns around, acting to get into bed, when he notices a small figure underneath his sheets. He stiffens but relaxes when the figure mumbles something. He would know that voice anywhere.
He strides over, quietly, and pulls his blue comforter away, revealing Y/N’s peaceful face. He notices the book tucked away next to her, a copy of Cinder that has her finger tucked between the pages.
He laughed softly at the sight before him.
“Did you fall asleep waiting for me?” He whispers.
Leonardo carefully takes the book, making sure to mark the page, and places it on the nightstand. For a moment, he simply watches her breathe softly.
She looks so content and he wonders what she might be dreaming about. A little part of Leonardo hopes that she’s dreaming about him…Eventually, he decideds to join her in her dreams.
Moving away, he removes his armor piece by piece, putting it away. He looks in the mirror. He tools older. Tired. He examines his green skin, littered with scars and a few tattoos. His eyes linger in his left forearm, where he had the kanji symbol for “love” tattooed.
He had gotten that for her and she had held his hand the entire time. He hadn’t really needed her to but he certainly had enjoyed it.
He looks up and he can see her reflection in the mirror. Y/N has rolled over and is now facing him, her arm reaching out towards him as though to say
“Come to bed.”
Love. His fingers run over the inked skin before he turns away and goes to join her. Carefully, so very carefully, he slides in bed next to her. Leonardo is always surprised about how small she seems next to him. How delicate, almost doll like.
She suddenly stirs, her eyes just barely opening.
“Leo?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“Hey. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” he whispers.
Y/N smiled sleepily and says
“No trouble.”
She’s drifting off to sleep once more and Leonardo gives her a quick kiss before she resumes her peaceful breathing.
It has been a difficult day for the turtles but being able to hold her like this…made it all worthwhile.
Within moments, Leo had joined her in her slumber, still holding her in his arms.
Love.

Coloured Bricks, Pick Up Sticks

Or: Anything can be a superpower if you get it hot enough. 

Wordcount: 1,900+

Genre: Weirdly and unnecessarily specific diagetic meta/comedy/drama

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Inko

Perks: (Pseudo-)Multi-Quirk Izuku, Quirk Experimentation, Quirk Lore, Izuku’s Extremely Tenuous Grip On The Basic Concept Of What Toys Are

Experiment One: Heat Resistance Is A Superpower

Midoriya Izuku is a very warm person.

Not his personality (though that’s also true). It’s his quirk. His quirk is that he’s warm.

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6

Brett Talbot x Fem!Reader


Warnings: Nudity.
Word count: 1 792


A/N: Yet another one of @lazyneonmonster​‘s fantastic ideas, and I feel like I easily trail away with her ideas, BECAUSE THEY’RE AWESOME!

ALSO, sorry (not sorry) for only posting Brett fics lately, but aiming to be among (at least) the top three in the search results when searching “Brett Talbot”. heheh


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Too Forgiving

I’m in the mood for something a little angsty and a little fluffy. Who better to be in a angsty/ fluffy fic than Draco Malfoy. Hope you guys like it! 

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle Born! Reader 

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Swearing 


You bounded up to Draco after dinner, ginning like a little kid at the thought of spending time with your boyfriend. As you reached him, you hugged his arm, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; this time something was off. You knew something had been bothering him for weeks now, but you just couldn’t put your finger on what and he wouldn’t tell you. He jerked his arm out of your grip. Pouting, you tipped your head to the side. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Get your filthy hands off me, (L/N),” He growled. You flinched, not expecting that response. Your (E/C) eyes widened as you looked at him. God, he didn’t look right. The shadows under his eyes said that he hadn’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep. 

“Dray, are you alright?” You asked, stepping closer to him. He pulled away from you again. 

“Are you deaf? Get the hell away from me,” He snapped. You let your outstretched hands drop to your sides. You stared at him, wishing you knew what he was so worked up about. You began to rack your brain for anything you’d done that could have upset him like this. Nothing came up. 

“Woah, calm down, love. Tell me what’s wrong,” You said, trying to stay patient with him. 

“You. Now sod off, (L/N).” You blinked at him, confused. What exactly had you done? He turned and began to sweep away. For lack of a better idea, you grabbed his hand. Turning back to you, he barely paid any attention to you, instead focusing on his hand with a look of mild disgust. 

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that. Second, what did I do?” His grey eyes found your (E/C) ones, turning to steel the second they met. You winced at the sight. 

“I do as I please,” He said, throwing on a mask of cool indifference. God, that riled you up a bit. Your temper flared. 

“Draco Malfoy, I am your girlfriend. I demand to know what’s got you acting like such a prick,” You snarled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, (L/N), you’re not,” He sighed, throwing you a pitying look. You raised an eyebrow. This was coming from the man who, just this morning, told you that he loved you no matter what. 

“Since when?” You asked. That took the wind out of your sails. 

“I would never disgrace the Malfoy family name by dating a talentless, classless, simple, grotesque, little mudblood. Much less loving one,” He purred. A sick smirk graced his face, the face you fell in love with. Tears sprung in your eyes and your hands began to shake. 

There was that word. That nasty, ugly, terrible word. Mudblood. That wasn’t a name he’d ever called you, no matter how bad the fight got (and you fought regularly enough). Other’s had called you that awful name, but you didn’t care about them. Draco was the only person it killed you to hear such a thing drop from his lips. The lips you’d kissed so many times. The lips that claimed they loved you so many times. You worked your jaw and clenched your shaking fists fishing for something, anything, to say. Nothing except for a ragged sob came out. 

Turning on your heal, you tore towards the Gryffindor dorms as quickly as you could. As you ran, you shot past the Golden Trio. They yelled for you to stop, but you didn’t, you couldn’t, your legs wouldn’t let you. Faintly, you heard them running after you. You didn’t want them to run after you; you wanted him. Finally, when you reach the dorm, you slammed the door, locked it, and then allowed your legs to give out under you. Sliding down against the door, you let yourself sob pathetically. 


“Let me in, (Y/N),” Hermione begged. It had been over an hour since you locked yourself in the dorms with no explanation, though you were sure they knew it had something to do with Draco. You made no move to open the door. You really weren’t up to an ‘I told you so’ speech from her. Part of your brain scolded you for thinking she would do that, another part offering to allow yourself to sink into the pain of what had happened.  

“Go away, ‘Mione,” You sobbed, miserably. 

“Whatever that git did to make you cry, I’ll kill him for it,” Harry said with fire in his voice. You were sure that it was meant to make you feel better. It didn’t. 

“Maybe she shouldn’t have dated Malfoy in the first place.” Thump. “I’m just sayin’.” Ron with as impeccable timing as ever. Despite the fact that he was just trying to help, you wanted to smack him in the mouth. 

“Come on, (Y/N). You’ll have to open the door at some point, the rest of the girls have to sleep in there, you know,” Hermione said, softly. 

“Please just leave me alone,” You cried, burying your head in your arms. Soft muttering came from just outside the door for a moment. 

“Alohomora,” She whispered. The door unlocked with a soft click and the trio stepped inside. Finding you on the floor, they shared a look then picked up, moving you to a bed. Hermione’s bed because it was closest. 

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t cry over, Malfoy. He’s not worth it,” Harry said, putting his arm around you. You sucked in a deep breath and sobbed again. Ron leaned over, offering you a pumpkin pasty. Leave it to a Weasley to go straight to food in order to comfort someone, not that you turned it down. 

“You said that to Hermione once; she at least got to punch him in the face,” You said, rubbing your eyes. 

“What the bloody hell happened anyway?” Ron asked as you ate the treat. You sniffled, Hermione offering you a tissue. 

“He broke up with me,” You said, shakily. The boys threw each other a slightly confused look. Hermione waited, knowing there would be more. You couldn’t seem to get the rest of the words out. 

“And?” She prodded softly, lest you start crying again. 

“He told me that he’d never disgrace the Malfoy’s by dating a talentless, classless, stupid, ugly, little mudblood,” You whispered, not wanting to believe that the blond boy you loved so much would actually say that. 

“He said what!! Oh, I’ll hex him into the next dimension!” Hermione fumed, grabbing her wand. You touched her arm, shaking your head. 

“Don’t. Please don’t.” They all stared at you as if you’d grown a second head. 

“What do you mean ‘don’t’? (Y/N), he called you…” Ron seethed, standing next to Hermione.  

“I know what he called me!” You yelled. Ron dropped back down to where he was sitting as Harry and Hermione watched you cautiously. You looked down at your hands which resided in your lap. “Sorry. I suppose I don’t feel quite myself.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron said, patting your knee. 

“You should get some sleep,” Harry said, rubbing your shoulder. You nodded, numbly. You felt all cried out, all yelled out, as if your insides had been scooped out with a spoon. 

“We’ll be in the Common Room if you need us,” Hermione said. You nodded, slipping into bed. 

“Goodnight,” You muttered. A chorus of goodnights rang back.


It was nearly two in the morning and you still couldn’t sleep. You were still hurting over what had happened and still concerned about Draco. The way he looked just didn’t seem right to you. You pictured his face. Angular, too angular, like he’d lost weight and you could fit your entire wardrobe into the bags under his eyes. His eyes. They were dull, yet oddly frantic. The usual cool silver of them had been replaced by a hollow grey. There was no way you could sleep with all of this bouncing around in your mind. 

Sighing, you got out of bed and made your way to the astronomy tower. You always went there to think. Funnily enough, this is where you met Draco. Back in first year the two of you startled each other when you saw him coming up the stairs and he saw you sitting in the window. Now that you thought about it, Draco might be there. Part of you highly doubted it. As you made your way up the stairs, you saw a shadow of someone sitting in the window. Draco. 

“I thought you might be here,” He said, not turning to look at you. You blinked, wondering briefly if you were dreaming. 

“What do you care?” You asked, no venom in your words. You joined him in the window, sitting an arm’s length away. He glanced at you. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” His voice was so broken, like he’d spent hours crying as well. You looked out over the school grounds, the moon illuminating everything in a different way than the sun. It put you at ease. 

“Are you?” You asked. It wasn’t meant to come out so nasty, but you were hurt. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flinch. 

Yes.” 

“I believe you,” You sighed, kicking your bare feet in the wind. 

“You do?” He asked, disbelief laced his words. You nodded, pushing a loose strand of (H/C) hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, but one thing is still bothering me,” You said. Still, you didn’t look at him. 

“What’s that?” The way he said that made you think he knew exactly what was going to come out of your mouth. 

“What’s going on? With you, I mean,” You asked, finally turning to look at him. The moon cast a shadow on his face, outlining his profile. Sharp nose, sloping forehead, soft cheek bones, and a strong chin: the same profile you’d seen many times in the same place. This time, it was more pained and sad. You could tell by the way his head tilted down. 

“You don’t want to know,” He whispered. Reaching over, you took a cold hand in yours. 

“I do.” So he told you. Everything. How much he regretted saying those things to you.The dark mark. Voldemort. The impending war. Suddenly, you felt very small, like you and Draco sitting in the tower were just specks floating in space. You could only imagine how he felt being stuck in the middle of all of this. By the time he’d finished, you could see that he was holding back tears. You hand was still in his with a death grip, like he thought if he let go you would disappear. 

“I’m scared, (Y/N), I’m so scared,” He wept, quietly. He didn’t look at you, but there was no hiding the tears. 

“I forgive you,” You hummed, scooting closer to him. You picked up his hand, gripping it more fiercely in your own. “And I love you, Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco brought his forehead to yours, tears still streaming down his pale cheeks. You waited, looking into his liquid silver eyes. He wanted to say something, but his words were smothered by your lips. He held you close, hands tightening on the back of your night shirt, keeping you there. Your fingers slipped into his platinum blond locks. His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth obligingly. Tongues danced together, saying without words that you loved one another. It wasn’t until you parted that you realized you had started crying to. 

“You’re too forgiving, darling. I love you, (Y/N) (L/N),” He whispered against your lips. You smiled, swallowing his words by bringing his lips back you your own. 

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 11

Two chapters in one week! You may or may not be feeling lucky by the time you get done with this one. No amount of pleading or bribing will have me posting 12 sooner than next Thursday. Thank you @diversemediums and @outlandishchridhe for being such wonderful collab partners on this!

Catch up on chapter 10 HERE


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anonymous asked:

Hi, love everything you guys write is so cute and awesome. Can I request inquisition + Alistair and Morrigan companions react when they see male hero of ferelden secretly meets with romanced leliana during inquisition?

Male? Why male? With respect, anon, screw that. Leli is bi and thus I will not be using gender pronouns for the Hero of Ferelden.

Alistair: He thought he saw the Warden, recognized the shape of the person under that bulky cloak. They do a very good job of seeming nonchalant as they stroll through Skyhold in an unmistakable direction. He follows to be sure, wondering if he might get a moment to talk to his friend. Instead, he ends up fleeing when he gets to the rookery, empty except for Leliana, and sees them immediately wrap around each other passionately. Red faced, he decides that maybe he’ll try to catch the Warden before they leave.

Morrigan: She almost didn’t notice but for the cloaked figure’s gait. She knows those steps, has even seen them in her dreams sometimes. Her first friend, her only friend, who gave her a chance when no one else would have, is strolling nonchalantly through Skyhold. She follows, wondering why the Warden is there, wondering if she might have a chance to speak with them. Yet when she peeks into the rookery, she finds that the Warden is already busy with Leliana. She presses her lips together and retreats. She’ll try to catch the Warden later. If Warden Fathered Kieran: She’d never mistake who was under that cloak. She stiffens and is simultaneously pulled to approach and flee with her son. Instead she follows the Warden, wondering if they’re here because they know that Kieran is. When she sees the Warden embracing Leliana in the rookery, she breathes a sigh of relief. If the Warden approaches her later, she’ll deal with it, but at least he isn’t here just for her.

Iron Bull: That cloaked figure is suspicious, no matter how well they manage to blend in. That’s the walk of a person on a mission, but no one else seems to notice. His Ben-Hassrath training kicks in and he follows the person on their meandering path up to the rookery. He hears no one up there but the birds and frowns. He reaches the top of the steps and finds the stranger lip locked with the spymaster and almost falls over. He catches a glimpse of the stranger’s profile and recognizes the Hero of Ferelden, Red’s lover. He smiles and leaves silently.

Varric: He’s written enough stories about Suspicious People to recognize one when they’re wandering around Skyhold. Casually, he follows all the way up into the rookery, where only Leliana waits. She turns toward the stranger and grins, the biggest smile he’s ever seen from her, and approaches. It isn’t until the pair kiss that Varric realizes who is under that cloak. He walks away and leaves them to it.

Sera: She knows when someone’s up to something, and that weirdy in the cloak is definitely up to something. Staying hidden, she follows until she gets to the top of the rookery and sees the stranger getting busy with Leliana. She has to cover her mouth to keep from snorting with laughter and manages to hold it in until she’s safely away.

Cole: He knows who’s arrived as soon as they enter Skyhold. He also knows why they’re there. He whispers Leliana’s location to them to help, then redirects anyone who might try to interrupt. Leliana and the Warden both need this, and he’s going to help.

Cassandra: She scowls at the cloaked figure, knowing that they don’t belong. She almost calls the guards immediately, then thinks better of it when she sees them head for the rookery. She considers just letting Leliana deal with the matter since she’s perfectly capable, but she wants to make sure everything is fine. She follows, but when she sees Leliana greet the stranger with a kiss she suddenly understands. She almost sighs at how romantic it is, but she keeps quiet and leaves them alone. She’ll do her best to catch the Warden before they go, but she won’t interrupt the time Leliana desperately needs with her lover.

Blackwall: He may not be a Warden, but he can still recognize them. They all have a certain aura about them, or maybe it’s in the way they move. He isn’t sure, but he knows that it’s a Warden who nonchalantly strolls into Skyhold. He’s about to raise the alarm when he realizes that they’re heading for the rookery. Wondering what could possibly be of interest to a Warden up there, he follows instead of instantly calling for help. When he sees Leliana in the Warden’s embrace, it takes him a solid ten seconds to realize which Warden has wandered into Skyhold. His entire face turns bright red above his beard as he leaves.

Dorian: There was no way he couldn’t notice the heavily cloaked figure climbing the stairs. He wondered for a moment if they were there for him, but they don’t even glance in his direction. He frowns as they head for the stairs up past the library to the rookery and follows curiously. His head has barely cleared the floor when he sees the stranger wrapping Leliana in their arms, the pair of them already kissing. He’s surprised, to say the least, but he retreats silently. He almost just cockblocked the Hero of Ferelden. That wouldn’t be good for his health…

Vivienne: She first notices the stranger because that cloak is simply atrocious! Then her attention sticks because she doesn’t recognize them but they’re strolling through Skyhold as if they own it. She follows them because she’s suspicious, staying hidden because she’s adept as blending into a crowd when she wants to. She has to be careful when ascending the final staircase up to the rookery after the stranger. She stops when she reaches the top of the stairs, for the first time in a long while completely shocked. The last thing she expected was for a stranger in a cloak to wander in and be intimate with their illustrious spymaster. It only takes her a moment to remember the Hero of Ferelden is Leliana’s lover. She’ll make a point to introduce herself to the Warden later, but for now she understands their needs and she’ll leave them to it.

Solas: He doesn’t recognize the heavily cloaked person who passes through the rotunda and heads upstairs, but he knows that they don’t belong. Curious and cautious, he follows them at a discreet distance. Up in the rookery, he sees the stranger greet Leliana with a kiss, the rest of the area empty except for the birds, and understands that this is a lovers’ meeting and he should not intrude. The identity of Leliana’s lover doesn’t particularly matter to him; he was still asleep when the Warden defeated the Fifth Blight.

High Tensions - Two

Reid x Reader

Six days later… 

Spencer really didn’t know why he’d agreed to the new terms of the bet. 

Well he did, he liked Y/N. A lot. They’d already established that during a drunken game of truth or dare. She was beautiful as well as funny and smart, and they’d become great friends even spending time together outside of work. He’d been surprised when Morgan had posed the question of “If you had to do one of us, which would it be and why?” and she’d looked directly at him and answered “Reid” earning a slight cheer from Morgan. When asked her reasons she’d gone on to smile at him, not seeming embarrassed at all stating that he was “Hot as well as a genius, and given how many books he’d read she was certain he’d know a thing or two about pleasing a woman.”

There was no way he could win now. She was so much more confident with her sexuality and he’d watched her on a number of occasions drive men wild from across the room just with subtle little looks and actions. 

Like now for example. They’d not had much chance to socialise with each other this week due to their case load, but right now she was sat across from him on the BAU jet just casually reading Delta Of Venus by Anais Nin whilst sucking on a cherry flavoured lolly. 

The rest of the team were asleep, the latest case had taken it out of them and Spencer had tried to nap but couldn’t.  

He was attempting to use this time productively so that he could get a head start on his paperwork, but every so often he could hear a soft popping sound coming from Y/N as she pulled the sucker out from between her lips before slowly pushing it back in again, her eyes focused on the page in front of her. 

Evertime he heard that noise his eyes moved to her mouth automatically watching her plump lips gliding over the head of the sticky sweet, it gradually decreasing in size. 

He shifted uncomfortably, his dick twitching slightly and his pants growing tighter. He was tremendously glad to be sat at the table now, sliding slightly lower in his seat to ensure that she couldn’t see what she was doing to him. Y/N’s pink tongue flicked between her lips, swiping over the circular candy as she turned the page of her book and Spencer had to cough in order to stifle the groan that was threatening to escape him.  

He wondered which part she was on, him having read the book when he was much younger. It was well known as one of the most erotic books of all time. 

She finished the sucker, placing the stick and her book on the table face down. She shrugged out of her jacket and opened one of the buttons on her blouse, Spencer spying the tiniest hint of cleavage as she leant forward to grab her water bottle. 

“Is it warm in here or is it me?” She stretched upwards to the air conditioning panel above their heads, her back arching and her breasts straining against her shirt as she fiddled with the settings. 

She sat back down, picking her book back up and continuing to read. A few moments later Spencer heard a low breath coming from her, and glanced up to see Y/N’s face flushing the slightest hint of pink. She cocked her head to the side, moving her hair with her spare hand and exposing her long neck. 

Placing the book down again, she stood up exiting her seat and making her way down the aisle to the bathroom. Making sure she’d gone in, Spencer leaned over and picked up the book, reading quickly to see where she was. 

“When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolflike sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. Naked now, he lay his full length over her. She enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. She wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. Shivers passed through her body.”

Oh dear lord. She was reading that, whilst sat across from him. Really?

He heard the door to the bathroom reopening and he placed the book back down quickly. 

When Y/N returned she flopped down next to Spencer rather than in her original seat. 

“Mind if I use you as a pillow Spence? We’ve still got two hours worth of flying time left and I can’t read that here anymore.” She rested her head on his shoulder before he’d even had chance to respond, and her eyes were closed in seconds. 

Not being able to work with the weight of his colleague against him, he leaned back in his seat and closed his own eyes trying to relax. 

Around an hour later, his eyes shot open. He hadn’t been asleep, just dozing, but Y/N had shifted in her sleep and her hand was now resting on his thigh. Her breathing was quiet but he’d noticed it was slightly heavier than before and he was sure he’d just heard a soft whimper coming from her. 

He glanced round the plane quickly noting that the rest of the team were still asleep. Looking down he could see Y/N’s eyes flickering quickly through her closed lids. She was dreaming. 

Her lips were slightly parted and he definitely heard the next quiet moan that left her mouth. Fuuuck, what was she dreaming about? The hand that was on his thigh moved higher, dangerously close to his groin, Spencer jumping sharply at the movement.

His jump shook Y/N awake and she pulled away from his shoulder, quickly, wiping her mouth with her hand and smoothing her hair. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Spencer whispered softly to her.

“No no, it’s fine. I’m glad you did wake me actually.”

“Erm….. What were you dreaming about?”

“Oh god.” She looked embarrassed, “Did I sleep talk again?“ 

“NO!” louder than he’d meant to, "No, you didn’t I just wondered that was all.” He fidgeted again. 

“Good. That’s a relief.” She stood again moving back around to her original seat. 

“So do you remember what you were dreaming of?”

Y/N’s eyes flashed quickly down to the book she’d been reading and then back up to Spencer’s face. 

“I do but I’m not gonna tell you." 

"Why not?" 

She bit her lip coyly, "Because you might have been in it.”

“Really?” Spencer squeaked. “What was I doing?” he coughed, feeling his face flooding with heat. 

Y/N grinned as she leant forward to pick her book back up. “Yep….and there’s no way I can tell you what you were doing to m…….in it,” she corrected herself going back to reading, leaving Spencer to his imagination. 

… 

You hadn’t been asleep. You’d barely been reading the book either. And you’d clocked every single one of his looks as you’d worked that lollypop with your mouth. 

The look on his face when you’d removed your jacket and unbuttoned your shirt slightly was one of sheer wanting. And when you’d gone to the bathroom, you’d seen him grab your book to check what exactly you were reading. 

You’d heard his breath catch as you’d lain with your head on his should, breathing out the occasional whimper to make him think you were having an erotic dream, and the way he’d jumped so quickly when you’d “accidently”  brushed you hand up his leg made you certain you’d succeeded. 

Yes, this was round one to you. You were definitely going to have Spencer Reid begging for it.  

When heroes are human & what comes with growth

Trying to get some of my feelings down on this chapter so I want to take a moment to look a little deeper in the imagery used for this panel in particular.

Its really such a chilling panel in its use of shadows and white space, wherein Toshinori is leaving Izuku as the shadows he leaves behind gradually creep up on him, not quite touching him yet but slowly drawing in on him.

These shadows he creates have taken someone else though.

Clear parallels are being made throughout this arc about Nighteye and Izuku, most prominently felt when Toshinori uses the word fan: 

  • admiring the same qualities about All Might
  • wrapped up in his ideals, wanting to be like him
  • breaking the barrier of admirer, aspiring to be worthy of his respect & confidence
  • having deep affection & concern for his well-being
  • and are shocked with the reality of who he is

Not in the way you find out someone you admire is just terrible but just that the person who you admire is flawed in a real way.

This is what I took most from this: All Might, the great and shining hero who left everyone in awe, is very much a flawed human who has hurt those closest to him with his choices and he understands he has but he can’t turn back because that would mean doing something worse, leaving people in fear and what his master gave him was put in the wrong hands.

All Might can’t let go because that’d mean he was wrong, the decision to make sure everyone feels safe and they have this security was not deserved. He can’t back off and let these ideals lose their meaning because that’d mean Toshinori the quirkless kid, who was given a chance by his hero, was a poor choice.

He lives for the all while ignoring the one: himself and those who are close and care for him in a personal way. its the flip side of what is good and righteous, so selfless and in keeping with their ideals they won’t take a step back for themselves. Thats what Izuku is touching on right now, the ideals that seemed so dazzling he missed what it implicates. 

Toshinori has pushed through personal pain and concern for his wellbeing for responsibilities and duties he feels for a whole. He has to keep the peace, he has to provide society with security, its whats held him together for so many years but he’s just a frail man and its scary and sad for Izuku to see this and not fully understand. He thought he knew All Might by now, he thought no matter what All Might had everything together. 

He even thought he knew All Might’s weaknesses except it runs deeper than physical problems.

Toshinori disregards what he has accomplished and done for thoughts of what he can still do, what it is he has to keep doing. These are the shadows he casts over Nighteye, choosing societies security over his own.

Its the truth you come to realize about people, they aren’t perfect, they make mistakes and sometimes what they do will not always agree with you in the end. Its what you get when you get older, the person in your life you accepted would always be right has cracks and those cracks can be scary because it means uncertainty and it means theres not going to be a clean cut answer to all problems, the grey areas start to show. 

All Might wanted to continue being there for the public, putting up a facade, while Sir just wanted him to lead a fulfilling life without understanding Toshinori had given all that up for his career. He could no longer be an average man because everything he’s put himself through has been for the purpose of being that all encompassing hero.

Toshinori knew this was coming. This was the time Izuku was growing past his more childish attitude and was asserting himself, acting every bit the developing teen he is. He’s coming into his own and that means facing something difficult he may not take well. (Sidenote: Toshinori has never given Izuku his real name before, getting that information from Gran Torino, always referring to himself as All Might as though maintaining that image for both their benefits)

Toshinori asks Izuku himself if he’s ready, giving him the chance to go back and be the kid who doesn’t need to know about his demons, he wants to keep him as innocent for as long as he can. This is something he’s put someone in a similar situation through and he regrets it, he doesn’t want to put that pain, disappointment and the weight of who he is on another kid who looks up to him. He didn’t want to let someone else down with who Toshinori is, trying to spare him the shadows he never meant to cast over Nighteye.

But he can’t keep Izuku where he can manage his growth himself, Izuku is impatient and young. The stakes keep going up and more people surrounding him are getting caught in it. He wants results and he wants to be able to accomplish things instead of having more failures, leaving more people in pain thanks to his inexperience.

Izuku has grown so much from the shy, hesitant person he was before who’d give into discouragement and be content with what he has. Izuku is no longer that kid who used to burst with admiration, he’s growing up and part of that is removing the lens you wear when you look at adults/parental figures you admire. Whatever made them perfect in your eyes isn’t the same anymore, seeing them for who they are and knowing there’s something about them that doesn’t fit with what you thought before. 

You have to take the good and the bad with the progress made.

Izuku, for his part, is growing past relying on All Might’s words to carry him, he’s growing into his own and building the confidence and drive to make shit happen. That means holding his own when he’s told he’s not good enough when he would have felt uncertain before.

 And not shying away from conflict when there’s something insidious going on. All Might not telling him this information himself put Izuku’s absolute faith into doubt, he’s learning All Might may not have everything together.

Izuku’s made strides but it means opening up for something less certain. He isn’t disheartened anymore but that doesn’t mean he’ll be told what he does is right, its the first step to learning just how harsh this work really is and his naive beliefs could lead to a worse outcome.

Reality is harsh and his dream is very open to harsher consequence. He has to overcome his naiveté, to adapt and think on his own, what is right and wrong for him and what has to be done. He’s learned he has to come into his own without relying on the image of All Might. But now he has to wonder: ‘whats under that image?’ Its scary to think All Might doesn’t know what he’s doing, your hero might not have a complete handle on life and what he does to himself is self-destructive.

Sir is still stuck on this himself. The shadows that have engulfed Sir Nighteye, the pain Toshinori puts himself through with his lack of self-preservation, are slowly touching on izuku. He starting to know thats who All Might really is, Toshinori the person who has put his image and ideals above himself.

Toshinori says he’s sorry but its not just for the heavy information he’s shared or choosing Midoriya based on chance, its for everything he really is and everything he couldn’t live as. He’s sorry for not ‘truly’ being the man Izuku had looked up to. Toshinori is sorry for the weaknesses he possess and the people who’ve had to carry the burdens he’s put on them. For being the man who, even after losing half his organs, still pushes himself despite knowing he’ll never last and could die in a horrible way in a foreseeable future. He still knows he could die sadly but pushes through that, not wanting to face himself.

He’s sorry for putting Nighteye through his selfishness and letting Izuku know of it; he’s sorry for not ‘successfully’ embodying the ideals he set out for himself.

Its desolate and nerve-racking and it tears away at him, even if he understands whats best. He’ll never be content and rest on his laurels even after being the first OfA successor to land a considerable blow to AfO. He’ll still keep fighting a never ending battle and may never get the peace he deserves, all because he’ll be anxious if he’s not the one to carry it. Never quite accepting his limits.

He can’t turn back, he has to keep going for himself, its his egotism. Its all he can do is to say he’s sorry and keep going forward because he knows what he’s doing will never reach an end. Thats been his flaw, he can’t stop himself from living this life because its the only one he’s accustomed to.

Everything he’s done was in service to be relied on, it makes him feel lost when he’s the one protected. He has to throw himself into the next labor just to have a goal to shoot for in the greater good (getting Shigaraki out of being a villain). If not, it means facing all he’s denied himself to be that symbol.

All Might may have accomplished more than any hero has before and done everything he could for the world but Toshinori will never be content.

It’s important to have these characters highlighted during this flashback. They’ve gone through what All Might has, they’ve witnessed what he has been through and they’ve had to shoulder through the sometimes troubling choices he’s pushed on himself. 

During the sports fest, All Might couldn’t reprimand Izuku because Izuku was berating his own inadequacy for the situation, he sees far too much of himself in Izuku. Izuku had to learn he couldn’t keep breaking his own body to make sure help was given, he had to learn this himself through failure and troubling those around him, knowing he’s not the only one being affected by his reckless actions.

Chiyo had done her best to nip that behaviour in the bud before it got to All Might levels of troubling, she doesn’t want to continue down the same path they’ve gone down before.

All Might may have been the symbol of peace in society but he’s still Toshinori the man who is frail and can only do so much before he’s worn himself thin but he keeps going regardless of protests. And they are the ones who’ve decided to watch over him since they can’t control what he does, guide and advice but still lack what can set him at ease, giving him the peace he needs. 

They were there then and they’ll continue being there for him the best they can.

And thats the drawback of losing your mentor, they’ll always be the perfect hero in your eyes while never learning their shortcomings.

Toshinori will always aspire and never meet his ideals because he’ll believe Nana could have, she’s peerless in his eyes. He’ll never quite meet her faults in the same way Izuku and Sir have and perhaps he’ll never realize this about himself.

In the end, Izuku is left unsettled by all of this coming from his hero.

The shadows All Might leaves behind have enveloped Sir Nighteye and are slowly finding their way to Izuku.

FBI Friday

Title: Contagious

Description: You (the reader) and Spencer Reid are in an established relationship. Reid’s nightmares are getting worse, and one night while you are comforting him, you finally get him to open up about what happens in the nightmares.

A/N: Warning because this is pretty graphic, although not anymore than the show itself. Probably much less graphic actually, because there’s no actual visual.

You woke up in the middle of the night, wondering what had disturbed your rest. You quickly realized that Spencer was sitting up in bed and breathing hard.

“Another nightmare?” you asked, rolling over to face him. He winced.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His voice was strained and shaky.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

do you think benjen knew the truth about jon? or at least suspected it?

I like to think he suspected it, possibly even knew with certainty without Ned telling him. There’s a theory floating around that Benjen joined the Night’s Watch out of guilt because he knew of Lyanna’s plans to run away, so maybe when he saw Jon he just *knew*.

Benjen is particularly warm toward Jon, even joining him at the low table during the King’s feast in Winterfell to talk to him and tease him. That particular interaction doesn’t end well because Jon’s drunk and angry, but Benjen does say this:

“You might, if you knew what it meant,” Benjen said. “If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.”

Jon felt anger rise inside him. “I’m not your son!”

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.” He put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Come back to me after you’ve fathered a few bastards of your own, and we’ll see how you feel.”

Jon even becomes sullen that Benjen stopped being as friendly with him when they went to the Wall, because Benjen is trying to make a point that he’s just another brother at the Wall and would not get special treatment from him:

Even his uncle had abandoned him in this cold place at the end of the world. Up here, the genial Benjen Stark he had known became a different person. He was First Ranger, and he spent his days and nights with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon and the other high officers, while Jon was given over to the less than tender charge of Ser Alliser Thorne.

Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. “This is not Winterfell,” he told him as he cut his meat with fork and dagger. “On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. You’re no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you.”

Stupidly, Jon argued. “I’ll be fifteen on my name day,” he said. “Almost a man grown.”

Benjen Stark frowned. “A boy you are, and a boy you’ll remain until Ser Alliser says you are fit to be a man of the Night’s Watch. If you thought your Stark blood would win you easy favors, you were wrong. We put aside our old families when we swear our vows. Your father will always have a place in my heart, but these are my brothers now.” He gestured with his dagger at the men around them, all the hard cold men in black.

Jon rose at dawn the next day to watch his uncle leave. One of his rangers, a big ugly man, sang a bawdy song as he saddled his garron, his breath steaming in the cold morning air. Ben Stark smiled at that, but he had no smile for his nephew. “How often must I tell you no, Jon? We’ll speak when I return.”

Jon expresses a great amount of anger over his uncle’s treatment of him, which seems to indicate that Jon is very much unused to Benjen refusing him or being anything less than warm toward him. His anger reaches a boiling point pretty quickly too:

“I don’t care,” Jon said. “I don’t care about them and I don’t care about you or Thorne or Benjen Stark or any of it. I hate it here. It’s too … it’s cold.”

When Benjen goes missing, it affects Jon rather greatly throughout AGoT:

Jon remembered the wish he’d wished in his anger, the vision of Benjen Stark dead in the snow, and he looked away quickly. The dwarf had a way of sensing things, and Jon did not want him to see the guilt in his eyes. “He said he’d be back by my name day,” he admitted. His name day had come and gone, unremarked, a fortnight past.

For a moment Jon was too frightened to move. Why would the Lord Commander want to see him? They had heard something about Benjen, he thought wildly, he was dead, the vision had come true. “Is it my uncle?” he blurted. “Is he returned safe?”

The grey walls of Winterfell might still haunt his dreams, but Castle Black was his life now, and his brothers were Sam and Grenn and Halder and Pyp and the other cast-outs who wore the black of the Night’s Watch.

“My uncle spoke truly,” he whispered to Ghost. He wondered if he would ever see Benjen Stark again, to tell him.

“Very well, truly,” the fat boy lied. “I am so happy for you all.” His round face quivered as he forced a smile. “You will be First Ranger someday, just as your uncle was.”

“Is,” Jon corrected. He would not accept that Benjen Stark was dead. 

“Benjen Stark is still First Ranger,” Jon Snow told him, toying with his bowl of blueberries. The rest might have given up all hope of his uncle’s safe return, but not him.

In ACoK Jon still thinks of his uncle, and even mentions him to Ygritte:

“Do you know anything of my uncle, Benjen Stark?”

Ygritte ignored him. Stonesnake laughed. “If she spits out her tongue, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In Jon’s crypt dream in ASoS, he calls to his uncle for help:

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark …

All of this to establish that a relationship did exist between Jon and Benjen, and overall it seemed a rather warm one. It’s just as well that Benjen would behave warmly toward any Stark bastard, but seeing as Benjen and Lyanna had been close in age, that they likely spent more time together than Benjen would have with his other siblings, and that they were partners in crime at Harrenhal may indicate that he feels close to Jon because of Lyanna.

Tales of Miss Fortune(Part 7)

I’m baaaaack. Damn, I missed writing thsi. This chapter was supposed to be fluff. Supposed to, but something went wrong. Lol.

First | Next

Slight sin. Nothing explicit


When Adrien stumbled in his office, more dead than alive, it was around eleven. Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“You coffee is cold.” she stated simply, looking up from her laptop.

Adrien blinked down at her. He remembered sending her a text about joining his drinking spree when he was tipsy and there was proof on his phone that she answered positively. Now the problem was that after that he had no memory. And every time he tried to remember something, he only got a headache. Or the word ladyboobies. Yeah, that’s all he remembered. And now he was worried he might have said or done something stupid or improper that might have offended or angered her. He honestly hoped he didn’t.

“So about yesterday, I’d like to apologize for anything stupid or rude that I might have done.”

Something flickered in Marinette’s eyes, something he couldn’t quite place. And then she gave him one of the sweetest smiles he had ever received from anyone. “Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything. Now, why don’t you just sit and eat your breakfast. By the way, I’ll forward you the reports from our headquarters in Milano.”

Adrien let out a sigh of relief and sat down at his own desk. He was very very grateful for nothing bad happening the previous night. Still, he wondered what was with the whole ladyboobies deal? Did he have a wet dream about Miss Fortune again? Probably. That must be it.


Paris had many flaws, it was far from the perfect overly romanticized city every non-French person thought it was. But Adrien couldn’t deny that Paris, at night, from the rooftops, was quite a gorgeous sight. Adrien sat down, his legs dangling off the roof as he admired the sight. It was late in the night but the streets still had buzz, people still out and about. Adrien sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the peace for as long as it lasted.

“Romantic night, isn’t it?”

His eyes snapped open. So much for a peaceful night.

Miss Fortune somehow sneaked next to him. Adrien gulped. Her shoulder length hair was ruffled by the breeze and her blue eyes seemed to shine brighter than any light. And with the rooftops and the Eiffel in the background and that alluring smile on her lips, she was quite a sight. By far, one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen. Well, fuck him. He wasn’t supposed to think about that, no matter how true it was. She was a criminal.

Adrien moved from the edge of the rooftop and rolled till he was in a position that won’t end up with him thrown in the middle of the street. To his surprise, Miss Fortune sighed. Looking over her shoulder at him and for a second he could have sworn he saw sadness in her eyes.

“I’m not here to fight, kitten. Or to steal anything.” she turned her head, preferring to look towards the sky rather than him. “Can we just enjoy this night together? I feel like it is too serene to disturb it with our cat and bug game.”

“I… I guess?” he wasn’t sure what to answer. He was too weary of her and her little tricks.

Sighing again, Miss Fortune turned around and started crawling towards him. Chat was frozen in place as she came closer and nestled herself between his spread legs. He wanted to push her away, but she didn’t give him the chance. She reached for him and her hands nestled in his hair. Adrien melted. Damn his cat instincts that basically made him go putty in her hands.

“Just relax, kitty kitty. I won’t do anything you won’t enjoy.” Adrien bit his lip, as she kept petting him. He liked it too much for his own good.

“Paris is for lovers, isn’t it minou? Can you imagine how wonderful would it be if you just gave up on that stubbornness and admitted you love me?” she whispered and Chat closed his eyes to not have to deal with both her beautiful face and alluring voice.

“I don’t love criminals. I feel nothing like that towards you.” he argued between clenched teeth. Her fingers were still playing with his hair.

“Is it so?” she leaned forward, her lips coming next to his ear. “A little birdie told me you only get hard because of me.”

Chat almost bit his tongue off to keep from screaming. Damn her and damn him too and his dirty brain and his traitorous dick. Miss Fortune lowered a hand, scratching him under the chin and that was all for him. A loud rumble echoed in the night,

Chat’s eyes snapped open only to see Miss Fortune looking almost as surprised as him, before her lips curled into a smile. “Did you just purr?”

“No!” he defended quickly.

“You did. You purred!” her hands went back to his hair, massaging his scalp in such a pleasant rhythm it was killing him. “Purr again.”

Chat tried to shock his head and keep the rumbled i. He honestly did his best. He wasn’t her damn pet, for screaming out loud. But Miss Fortune lowered her hand, stroking his thigh slowly, while her other hand was still busy petting his head. And she went up, up until she reached for his crotch. Her slender fingers passed slowly over the leather of his costume, letting the warmth of her hands feel behind it.

“Purr for me, mon minou.” she whispered in his ear.

Defeated, he let the satisfied, happy sounds out, purring louder than he had ever before. Miss Fortune was obviously satisfied with this outcome.
“Just like that. Good kitten, purr some more for your lady.”

Hearing the praise, Adrien let his head fall against her shoulder with a helpless whine as he kept purring loudly while her hands were busy stroking him. She smelled so good, like jasmine flowers. Damn him, why did he have to be so weak when it came to her? His brain was trying to protest, but his body had other ideas, to delighted with what was going on. So Chat stayed like that, enjoying her ministrations and purring loudly.

lostin-the-transition  asked:

Okay! First of all, I love your hcs and fics so much, and I'm such a happy and proud potato that you keep your blog up-to-date through everything! SO what if MC switched bodies (somehow) with the people of the RFA+V+Saeran? SFW or NSFW, it's up to you. Much love!

This might be a little short, def ooc, and not completely on the NSFW side, but I thought this would be a good chance to have something a little silly/funny on the blog! Much love to you too!!

(Lets also say that they’re dreaming or something like that for an excuse habfhsdbfhs I’m so bad when it comes to these plots)

All panicking aside, these folks may do a few weird things.

Zen would probably want to view himself from ‘your’ eyes- Getting an actual outside perspective of himself and loving it (also making some notes on what he could do to tone up a bit more, new ways to style his hair, etc). When if came to your body, however, he wouldn’t know what to do with his hands. For one, he would really, really, want to touch a few certain areas, but the look you give him when he’s quietly thinking about it scares him into forgetting the thought right then and now. Besides, he’s too much of a gentlemen to actually follow through those thoughts…

Yoosung would probably panic the whole day, and not just for your sake either. He’d be so worried about how you would think of his body. Is it weird??? Are you…Are you looking at–Aah! He’s panic so much. He’d want to be with you the whole time the ordeal was going on, just so he knows you’re not looking at him naked and critiquing his body. As for yours, he would have such a hard time changing clothes. And don’t even get him started on your bra- He tried putting on a shirt with his eyes closed and nearly died when he realised he was forgetting it.

Jumin wouldn’t leave your side. He’d be very worried about how you would present him. He would know that you would have a different air about you, and he needs to keep his reputation. Not that he doesn’t trust you….But he knows you. You haven’t grown up with the years of training he has on etiquette and presenting yourself. You’re still lost on his lifestyle, so he would stay by your side, acting so stoic in your body it gives you some weird vibes. But, granted, he wouldn’t let his mind wander about your body at all.

Seven would probably jokingly encourage you to mess around with his body, joking about how you two can really switch the roles up. But, silliness aside, he would be a bit weirded out. Very weirded out. If you even took his jacket off he would whine a bit, wanting you to cover himself back up. I mean it’s one thing when he decides to undress for you, but you in his body seeing himself from his perspective…Too much!!! He might practice taking off your bra a bit…How does that one latch always get stuck???

Jaehee would be pretty uncomfortable. She might think it’s nice to not have that weight on her chest all the time, and her hair longer, but seeing how she looks to other people would just be so weird. She’d be constantly frowning, walking around ‘you’ and thinking about a few ways she needs to adjust herself (Maybe getting a skirt thats a little less tight, different colored stockings….). After you try to give her some encouraging words (and failing due to the general weirdness), she’d calm down a bit….but definitely would be researching ways to reverse this

Saeran is not coming out of his room. No. Nope. Never. Not until he gets his own body back. And he would nearly want to force you to do the exact same- Do Not make a fool out of him, please god. He would die. Would he want to view your body? Probably. But he would be so creeped out by the whole thing he would just lay in bed and try to sleep it away, or just ignore it to the best of his ability.

V would probably be too shy to stay with you in the room. He’d frown about how his hair can be sometimes (”I never realized how much it nearly covered my eyes…”), and a few other details, but he would never, ever, let his hands stray over any strange areas for too long. He’d be a bit confused on what exactly is happening, why this even happened in the first place, but he’d focus on calming you down first, if he can. (Though he might ask you to make sure to brush his hair if you absolutely need to go out).


(If this was a dream, I’d like to imagine the RFA and Co waking up in a cold sweat, wondering what the fucking hell they just dreamed about.)

The T & A room

Women have a special problem. Initially, when any man first sees a glamorous example of femininity, an instantaneous shift takes place. He enters his T & A room.
I don’t mean to say he turns and physically leaves. That would
be very odd; a girl perched prettily on a stool with men spotting her then madly scrambling out and physically diving into their T & A rooms. No.
It’s an event in the mind that crackles at the speed of light. He lays eyes on her and “Bam!” into the T & A room.
You might ask, “Well what exactly is the T & A room?” We’ll get to that.
Just please understand that when Charlie first stands there stunned into silence by the breathtaking beauty before him, he doesn’t really see her.

Oh, he takes an initial snapshot all right, but now he’s rummaging around looking through the shelves labeled “blonde hair”, “high cheekbones”, “very shapely legs” and other stuff, making instantaneous comparisons.
He’s reminiscing through his various recollections of the high school beauty queen, his sister, the girl, who liked him a lot, the girl who he dreamed about, and literally thousands of other loved and cherished memories.
The mound of Playboy and other trashy magazines he had read when younger are also included, of course and are used in making the comparison, this all happening instantaneously.
You have to get an idea of the size of the T & A room. It’s huge, as you might imagine, contains every memory he has ever had that would apply to this particular circumstance, the beauty in front of him.
Now, in a case one or two of you are still wondering what T & A means, let me enlighten you now; T & A stands for temptation and admiration so the T & A room is the Temptation and Admiration room.
If you don’t believe me, just ask anyone. They’ll tell you.
And typically, men spend a great deal of time here happily thumbing through their recollections, smiling and perusing the massive numbers of memories, the shelves and drawers looking for entertainment.
One more thing about the T & A room. It has a door at the far end with a sign which shouts in capital letters, “Restricted Area! Jungian Psychologists Only. All others, enter at your own risk!”
If you open the door it leads down rough stone steps and into darkness, the Collective Unconscious. This is where the Anima lives. This is where the feminine aspects of every man secretly reside. The Anima is, in short, the woman in a man, the archetype which rules over the relationship between men and women. It is a kind of innate guide that leads one through the ambiguous path of meeting the woman and interacting with her. Here we find the Mother archetype, Mother Earth, The Lover, The Sophia or the Wisdom of God from the Gnostic, living beyond the annoying light of the Ego.

The point is that physically attractive ladies have difficulty getting to know men because the men hold them in such high regard, and on such a high pedestal, that they (the men) become tongue-tied and choked on their own adrenaline, and it takes time for the Goddess Image to fade and the human being named Nancy or Katerina to replace it.
So please have patience ladies, he’ll come to his senses. Eventually.

My thanks to Kati Magoon whom I dedicate this paper to. Without her inspiration this effort would never have seen the light of day.
Jon Hassinger, astrological instructor and contributor to Astrolocherry.