Anon Request: You’re best friends with TJ and are in a mixed tag with Brian and Dana. Brian breaks it up and pushes you. TJ beats the crap out of him so you calm him down backstage and it leads to smut where he straddles you.
Beverly isn’t necessarily romantically interested in Will but she still feels very protective of him and invested in him and yet is so direct as a human being that she can’t just let things slide, she has to call him out, she has to talk about it, she has to confront Will.
I was inspired by this lovely piece of art by @xallyxcatxs here and wrote this.
Essentially, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Cat Noir asks Ladybug for kissing lessons.
“Hey, milady, can I ask a
Ladybug raised a brow. “It
depends on the favor, kitty.”
“Have you ever kissed someone
“I’ve kissed you,” she
reminded him, smiling. “Remember?”
“No.” She knew he didn’t,
but he’d certainly heard enough about it from his kwami to know what she meant.
“I just…” He looked down, swinging his feet. “I’m not sure I
“Really?” She glanced
over at him, “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“I’ve been kind
of…sheltered. My only friend for a while wasn’t really someone I’d want to
“Hm…” She looked back
to the city in front of them, tapping the edge of the building where they sat.
“So, there’s someone you want to kiss?”
He blushed. “Maybe.”
“Does this mean you’ve moved
on from me?” she asked, her tone light despite the confusing pain in her
chest. She loved Adrien, she reminded herself, so if Cat Noir was turning his
attention to someone else, that was a good thing.
“Who says it isn’t
you?” He grinned, gently nudging her with his elbow.
She laughed. “Is it?”
He just smiled.
“I know a little,” she
answered finally. “But I’m not exactly a kissing expert.”
He repositioned himself so he was
seated facing her. “Could you teach me?”
She briefly considered the pros
and cons. After all, she had a crush on someone else, and he seemed smitten
with her. He was her partner, and this would complicate things. She cared about
Cat Noir, and this…this could be a huge mistake. At the same time, though,
this was Cat Noir. Her silly and sweet partner, who was asking her for help.
While perhaps she wasn’t the best option, he trusted her and, if she were to be
completely honest with herself, she trusted him, too. Their eyes met, his
hopeful and hers hesitant, and she couldn’t help but nod and turn to fully face
She moved closer, both seated
cross-legged with their knees and and feet touching. He leaned closer, heart
“Okay, first you have to
build up to it.” She took a steadying breath. “Eye contact. Gentle
touches. Complimenting the other person.” Her lips quirked into a half-smile.
“Preferably without puns.”
“You’re kitten me. No
puns?” He joked, hiding his nerves behind a grin.
“Trust me, it kills the mood.”
He chuckled and hesitantly reached
out a hand, “Um, can I?”
He rested a hand on the side of
her jaw, and she swallowed at the brush of leather over her cheek.
“Good.” She leaned
forward, contemplating how to explain the next step. “Okay, then for the
kiss itself, you… well.” This was definitely a bad idea, she thought to
herself even as she continued speaking, “I could show you.”
His eyes widened. “Y-Yeah.
They’d already kissed, she
reasoned. Surely, this wouldn’t change things any more than the one that had
cured him of Dark Cupid’s arrow. “So, I’ll just…go ahead and
demonstrate. Then, I’ll explain after.”
“Now, just tilt your
head,” she instructed softly.
“Like this?” He asked
after doing as instructed.
“Y-Yeah and…uh…” She
angled slightly, “Close your eyes.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. She
watched him silently for a moment, finally cupping the back of his neck and
gently pulling him closer. His breath ghosted over her lips as she moved
forward, and she saw a deep red blush spread over his cheeks. Something in the
back of her mind chanted that this was a mistake, but she chose to ignore it.
She pressed her lips to his, and
she immediately knew that this was, indeed, a terrible mistake. Still, as she
closed her eyes and moved closer, it was absolutely a mistake that she would
love to make again and again. His lips were soft, she noted, wondering what
kind of lip products he used and further wondering if hers were chapped by
Her nose rubbed over his as she
repositioned herself for a better angle, and she smiled. Part of her had
wondered if this would be awkward, but in reality it felt like the most natural
thing in the world. He felt warm and safe, and she adored the way her heart
fluttered at his soft hum of approval. While she had expected him to enjoy
this, she hadn’t expected to be so pleased with it. His free hand moved up to
slowly interlace his fingers with those of her free hand. She squeezed, and she
could swear he let out a soft purr.
Part of her knew she should back
off now. This was certainly a sufficient demonstration, but she wasn’t quite
ready to stop. She wanted to stay here and bask in his delicate touches, in the
happy little sound he made each time she shifted. The rational part of her mind
urged her to slow down. Instead, she held him closert still, gently tangling
her fingers in his hair and marveling at how he shivered under her touch.
In the end, he leaned back,
staring up at her with wide eyes and even wider pupils, his lips and cheeks
bright red as he searched her expression for some sign that she had responded
to him just as much as he’d responded to her. He was rewarded by the sight of a
breathless, blushing Ladybug who watched him as he delicately pressed a kiss to
each knuckle of the hand he held in his own.
“I think…” She
swallowed. “I think you understand it pretty well, kitty.”
“You’re a great
teacher,” he murmured, looking up at her with a genuine smile, “Thank
That smile… That soft, warm
smile… She jerked back, tugging her hand free as internal alarms sounded and
woke her from her stupor. “W-well, it’s getting late. I should really be
He raised a brow.
No. Everything wasn’t okay. She’d
just kissed Cat Noir and really, really
liked it. Then, he had to flash her this beatific smile that reminded her so
much of Adrien it hurt. “Yeah, I just…” She fiddled with her yo-yo
as she slowly backed up. “I just need to be going home. I have plans
“If I crossed a line…”
“No, not at all.” She
shook her head. Of course he was worried, and that only made her feel guiltier.
“I just…” She let out a weak laugh, relaxing just a little. “I
guess I wasn’t expecting that.”
He grinned, leaping to his feet.
“You weren’t expecting to like
His jab made it easier for her to
dismiss the moment, and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head now. It
just means you shouldn’t be nervous about kissing the girl you like.”
He stepped closer, a little hesitant but still smiling, and her heart
rate spiked. “So, does that mean I can kiss you again?”
She smirked, ignoring
the small, irritating part of her that was already begging her to agree. She
even ignored the much larger, much more insistent part of her that urged her to
shut him down. Instead, she listened to the part of her that was maybe just a
bit smitten and teasingly offered, “If you can catch me.” Then, she
soared off with her yo-yo, leaving him to laugh and follow her.
Okay, first of all, I am so sorry for the several stories I have in progress that I’m not working on. I don’t know what is going on with this massive writing wasteland I’ve entered, but I promise I have plans to finish other things!
Also, this was a sort of self-indulgent, impulsive piece that I didn’t ask my beta to read over (sorry), so let me know if you see any errors!
I’ve seen a piece of meta by a Destiel fan about how Castiel wasn’t in Sam’s room but was instead in a different room, presumably his own. The meta writer’s evidence was pretty compelling and was enough to cast some doubt on the subject, but it was drawn from a season 9 episode, and it seems like a lot of things about Sam’s room have changed since then.
Thanks to brand new set photos, it’s become pretty clear that Cas has, in fact, been in Sam’s room for the past few weeks. This TV Addict article from November 3rd has a ton of photos from a set tour, including photos of Sam’s room from all angles. Unless the art director is intentionally misleading viewers by showing us the wrong set (highly unlikely), these pictures confirm that Cas has been taking over Sam’s room since 11.04, Baby.
I’m not implying that the fact that Cas is crashing in Sam’s room means anything on a large, OTP type of scale. It doesn’t. It just means that Cas seems to feel comfortable enough with Sam to take over his room for a few weeks, and Sam seems to feel comfortable enough with Cas to let him.
A few details that more or less confirm that it’s Sam’s room:
The two books/folders beside the organizer. They are the exact same ones we see in the photo below, messy papers included.
The magnifying glass. That’s a pretty unique magnifying glass (horn handle, looks like) lying on top of the same open book we see in the set photo below.
The books on the shelves in 11.06 are in the same order as the ones in the set photos. The only minor changes are that the box seems to be open and the two books that are on their side in the set photo are upright in the episode. The lamp on the shelf has been moved onto the table, probably so Cas can see better.
The bed’s headboard is identical to the one in the set photos of Sam’s room. This was the biggest argument against it being Sam’s room by other meta writers, because his bed in season 9 seemed to have a higher headboard. It would seem that has changed for whatever reason, and Sam’s bed is identical to the one in the photos (right down to the thin, light blue blankets). Previous photos of Sam in bed in 10.17 have shown that his bed was literally too small for him. His feet dangled off the end! You’ll notice, though, that the headboard is the same one we see in 11.06, and the lamp on the shelf has been moved to the table, exactly like in 11.06.
The string-bound book. The same book shown in the set photos of Sam’s room seems to be on top of the organizer in the 11.06 caps, though it looks like it has a letter on top of it.
Some people will note that there are slight differences and additions, but it’s kind of crazy to expect Sam’s room to never change at all, especially if he sleeps and does research there (and has been accommodating a traumatized couch potato for a while).
Unless the set people were being lazy and literally recycled Sam’s room with minuscule changes and meant it to be “Castiel’s room,” which, again, is highly unlikely (and would bring up a bunch of questions if it were true), Cas has been watching Netflix in Sam’s room for the past several episodes. It doesn’t imply anything on a huge scale, but it is what it is.
If you’d ask Keith what the word ‘home’ had meant to him months ago, he would have given you his signature blank stare. He had had a shelter, a place to sleep–the bare necessities to be considered a ‘home’, but lacking the warmth and comfort. There was really nothing to describe, nothing that meant anything.
Until he met Lance.
Home became the feeling of being held in his lean arms, wet face pressed into his chest and hidden away from the world for just a moment. Home was breathing in his scent, a sort of cologne he insisted on always wearing, and the natural smell of sweat from training and mission work.
Home was his dark honey hair, just long enough for Keith’s hand to ruffle and smile softly at how it would stick up much to Lance’s pretend whining. Initiating contact was still new to him, and doting the tiniest of affection set his heart afire at how it was received. Appreciated. Reciprocated. Keith found that he liked it, little by little, and there was something so nice about it, a newfound warmth spreading all the way to his toes. He smiled more, laughed more.
Home was Lance’s voice. Once, it had done nothing but piss Keith off, the blue paladin having spouted nonstop bullshit about their supposed ‘rivalry’ and snark. Now, he knew the kinder, truer side that he had been hiding behind his cocky persona. Lance spoke softly, kindly, always concerned for him and their fellow teammates. He worried more than all of them combined, and missed his own home. His smiles were sweet, and made Keith’s heart skip beats when witnessed as if for the first time, every time. Each one meant something, from a silly goofy grin of catching the red paladin off-guard (rarely), to brimming with an emotion that Keith was recognizing as love.
Lance loved him.
He would tell him so, albeit in a soft voice with chestnut cheeks blushing and ocean eyes sparkling true. When they were close together, bathing in the other’s warmth and presence, or too far for comfort in the heat of battle. Always in a hushed voice, would Keith repeat it. Quietly, at first, then stronger with each whisper of Lance’s to say it again in amazed wonder, as if in a dream he couldn’t believe was real.
He was always so cold, but he would counter that Keith was simply just too warm. Yet whenever they touched, it was like a harmony. An awkward jumble of notes under an inexperienced conductor, but growing more accustomed with time. Slow, gentle hands would explore one another, fingertips brushing over the history of old scars and minor cuts. Bruises and scrapes from training under Shiro, a bump from when they had accidentally knocked heads one morning. A mark that too much eagerness had accidentally created.
Home was exploring every inch that was Lance, and finding that to be so.
Keith’s favorite were his lips. They were soft, and he unused to such gentleness pressed against his cheek with a hand carded in his dark locks. Sometimes just quick a peck when the blue paladin had the jump on him, or simply because he could now. Sometimes slow and drawn out, one kiss leading to another that found their way to his own lips.
Though he would never admit it aloud, Keith’s heart always ached and craved for more. Often would his dark eyes close after each kiss, savoring the unsaid affection behind them all. Those moments when Lance would playfully tease him after having made him blush were rare, as the red paladin would silence him with a kiss of his own. It turned out there was a way to quiet him, and never ever would Keith say it was cute.
It was…not cute. Not cute in any way. Not in how Lance’s deep blue eyes would widen in surprise, the sudden kiss unexpected from his boyfriend that always followed his lead, unsure of how to proceed. Not in how his voice would squeak and crack, words nothing but stuttering gibberish from the one that seemed confidently full of them. Certainly not in how his skin color would flash straight to scarlet, and how his hands would fly immediately over his lips as if to preserve it.
Lance was cute. He wasn’t. Shut up, Keith.
Home was finally sharing a room after little debate. Home was knowing neither would have to sleep alone, something Keith had been accustomed to, and now hated when separated and vulnerable to night terrors. Home was having his fingers interwined with Lance’s, having his entire body protectively curled around him, and sometimes the other way around. Neither minded. Home was that safe, secure feeling in knowing that everything would be okay. It was sleepy whispers of assurances that the other was there, of arms drawing the other closer, murmuring inaudible things before a light kiss to messy hair. It was mumbled ‘good mornings’, of smiles lighting the start of a new day.
It was Keith waking up first, and observing the drooling young man tangled up in his sheets, somehow looking peaceful despite the chaos. It was realizing that this.
This was home.
It was understanding that this was what Lance had meant by homesick, of understanding the pain he endured and hid behind a smile and awful joke. To have something similar to this, and to lose it–to not know if they’d ever be seen again, Keith doesn’t know how he manages.
What Lance doesn’t say, is how he does manage. Of a new home he’s found in raven-colored hair and dark violet eyes, a solid rock to keep him grounded and focused. A half-sided rivalry that had transformed into something so much more. Something wonderful.