my bingo


Rating: T


Derek presses his fingers against his soulmark briefly, studying the familiar phrase in the mirror before tugging his shirt on. It’s an old habit, running his fingers across the mark on his ribs, touching it gently with unending fondness. Even though it’s been years since the phrase appeared, and even though he has long since memorized the curves and arches of the writing, Derek loves looking at the mark.

He was only five years old when the words burned themselves into his skin. No one really knows how the marks work, just that they appear when the youngest of the pair is born, spelling out the first words that the soulmates will say to each other. By the time the last letter finished carving Derek’s skin, he was in tears. His mother had held him through the tremors and promised that the pain would be worth it in the end. After all, having a soulmark was a gift, the universe’s way of helping him find the one person to make him whole. (In Derek’s opinion, if the universe has the power to match people up, than it probably had the power to make the process painless, but what did he know.)

When the pain ended and his mark was legible, Derek wondered what type of person his mate would be. After all, who started a conversation with a proposal? It always seemed so presumptuous that their meeting would begin with an offer of full commitment, but at the same time Derek has always loved the originality of the statement. In comparison with something like ‘hello’ or ‘can I help you,’ his words have always stood out (though his mother’s words are ‘can I help you’ and his father’s mark reads,‘for starters, you can get that monstrous thing out of my way,’ so maybe even simple marks have something unique about them).

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break your heart to make it bigger

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark


“I could pretend to be him,” Steve says, like he’s reading Tony’s mind. He’s still smiling, almost content. “Just for tonight. Is that what you’d like, Tony? He’d be so gentle with you.“

Thanks for beta to @comicsohwhyohwhy!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TONY. Mind the warnings, everyone.

read on ao3

@mildlymaddy, you mean I’m just supposed to ramble on about five WIPs? That I can do.

1. More hitch and loverbird. I am obsessed with these shiny new toys, to the point of letting other WIPs slide. Next up: Mitch meets Nick, with a side of Ben Winston. Also: digging into the Niall and the Potatoes band dynamic and how a relationship would grow very differently out of that dynamic than one would out of 1D. I am loving the contrast between these two ships, especially the power imbalance between a solo artist and his band and how Niall and Harry would handle that in completely different ways.

2. werewolf carpool karaoke. It’s almost done and that’s all I have to say about it.

3. sytycd lourry. This was supposed to be a fun summer speedwriting challenge to see if I could keep up with posting a chapter a week during the So You Think You Can Dance season. Sure, I thought, let’s just smash two characters I love into a reality show that I love, and it’ll be the kind of fun uncomplicated h/l fic I might have written if I’d been around in 2012. But then it developed an emotional arc, and a plot twist, and a key role for Taylor Swift, and some unrequited zarry from third-party narrator Zayn, and then some sidepair ziam because Zayn needed to be happy, and then I got a little obsessed with the challenge of writing lourry without invoking any larry tropes, which turns out to be especially hard in the context of a reality show au. I’m still having a ton of fun with it and still plan to post it chapter-by-chapter starting this summer, but weekly updates are probably too much to hope for at this point. Here’s a bit, though:

The circle breaks up when the cameras swing away, following Taylor toward a dancer in a red tracksuit with an Adidas bag slung over his shoulder. He’s weapon-pretty, compact and dangerous, cheekbones and jawline like a set of throwing knives.

Zayn prefers beauty that’s approachable, arms to wrap around you and hair you can get tangled up in.

“Who’s that?” Harry asks, and Zayn’s heart sinks a little at the note of interest in his voice. Harry likes challenges, things that give up their secrets in response to his patient attention: complicated recipes, Scrabble tiles, breaking down a new piece of choreography. And when the whole world falls in love with you, nothing’s a bigger challenge than somebody who seems like he won’t.

4. christmas tree lirry. The fic of my heart. A bunch of quiet high school feelings; and obsessive research into christmas trees and commercial nurseries; and Harry Styles being a giant christmas dork. There’s mistletoe, there’s holiday lights, there’s hot chocolate, there’s Liam in an elf hat, there’s the Payne siblings. It’s probably an insipid mess, but brace yourselves because it’s coming in December.

5. reeses spread nouis. Just a little chocolate peanut butter PWP inspired by this gif. Hey, Maddy, remember the time you were #picksomeonesupportive even though you completely forgot you’d encouraged me to write this one?

Patrol Makeouts

The first time it happens, it’s soft and sweet and feather-light, almost too quick for Chat Noir to even process Ladybug has kissed him before she’s stepping back and swinging home. It takes him a solid ten minutes to even think about moving, and Adrien spends the next morning in a daze.

The second time it happens, Chat Noir catches her offguard in the middle of a patrol. They’re looking down at a crowd of tourists taking pictures of their statue, lit up in honor of the superhero duo’s anniversary of the first akuma they faced.

He waits for a smile to reach over and cup her cheek, turning her to look at him. He murmurs a happy anniversary into her lips before he kisses her, lingering long enough to feel the way every ounce of tension melts from her shoulders under his gentle touch.

She looks up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, smiles, and dives in for a second kiss of her own.

He stops keeping track after the third time. They’re laughing and playing an impromptu game of tag across the rooftops of Paris when Ladybug tackles him to the ground and grins down at him. The laughter fades when he’s captivated by the starlight in her hair, and she bends closer to claim a kiss as her prize.

There’s nothing soft or quick about the way they explore each other’s lips and necks and shoulders, kissing along jawlines and murmuring each other’s names as they learn what the other likes. He loses track of time, measuring their moments in heartbeats and the soft gasps Ladybug makes when he kisses the hollow of her throat.

They always insist on doing a thorough sweep of the streets before they find a quiet corner somewhere and push their boundaries just a bit further than last time. His hands skim her hips as she hums an approving note into his lips and tangles her fingers in his hair. She adjusts their angle with a gentle tug, and he almost melts against the brick wall behind him. Two months ago, the idea of Ladybug kissing him was absolutely beyond belief, and now it’s become the highlight of their patrols.

He pulls her closer with a warm hand splayed across her back and breaks away from her lips to trail a line of kisses up the side of her neck. Her grip tightens in his hair, and she presses closer, whispering praise. He kisses up the shell of her ear, teeth grazing her earlobe, and the soft whimper that fills the night when he does sends a thrill down his spine. A year ago, he could never have imagined this. Now he couldn’t stop imagining this, aching to hear more of her quiet moans and the breathless way she says his name when he manages to overwhelm her with pleasure.

She tugs him off her neck and claims his lips in a fierce kiss that leaves his mind buzzing and his knees weak. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d always suspected that Ladybug would be the one to lead even when it came to a more personal relationship between them. Still, every time she does, he’s always surprised by how much he likes it. He loves being surrounded by her on all sides, pressed into a hard wall, feeling her fingers drifting over his arm and shoulders and chest. He bites back a moan when he feels her fingers tugging at his bell and exposing more of his neck for her to lean down and kiss. A very small part of him worries about the marks her teeth might leave behind, but a much larger part of him is happy to let her have her way.

The next day, Adrien wears a scarf to class in the middle of France’s hottest spring to date.

Love Potion Number Nine

Summary: Derek decides to take a love potion, but things don’t go quite the way he intended.
Note: Written for Teen Wolf Bingo (“Stiles/Derek”). Loosely based on the song by the same name. (On AO3)

“Deputy Stilinski,” he hears over the radio. “We have reports of what appears to be a drunk and disorderly accosting people on the sidewalk.” Stiles looks up from the ticket he’s writing. It figures, on the one day he’s assigned as the downtown traffic cop. “He’s near your location,” dispatch continues, giving him pertinent information.

“Okay, I’ll intercept,” he says, ripping the ticket from the pad and tucking it under some poor fool’s windshield wiper. Shouldn’t have illegally parked, buddy.

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