Soulmate AU where your soulmark doesn't only symbolise your soulmate, but also how you'll realise that they are your soulmate. (because unlike the romace novels it isn't always "bond" at first sight, sometimes it takes YEARS to discover what was there all along). Now imagine Stiles so obsessed with his very-much everlasting state of virginity because of his bite mark on his chest and HELLO what else could that mean. (part 2 in the next ask)
Part 2: Or imagine derek trying everything to get rid of his mark, because the bullet shaped mark was the reason his young naive self approached the argents, and KATE, in the first place. And we all know how that went.
The water was cold as it splashed on
his face – cold and refreshing – and his hands stayed pressed
against his face for a long minute, his eyes closed and a tired sigh
leaving him. Slowly, Derek dropped his hands from his face and
grabbed the edges of the sink. He hesitated before finally lifting
his gaze to the mirror in front of him.
His eyes, blank with a hint of sadness and
bags heavy underneath them, found the bullet shaped mark slightly to
the left of the center of his chest immediately.
Derek had been five when his mom had
sat him down and told him about soulmates and soulmarks for the first
time. And because of his soulmark, it had also been when he was told
of hunters and how he needed to be careful. More careful than any of
his siblings and any of his friends.
He had been five and hadn’t listened.
He hadn’t listened when he was thirteen either, nor when he was
sixteen and approached the woman he thought he was his soulmate.
It had been years – long and painful
years – and he had yet to forgive himself for that. He doubted he
ever would,and looking at his soulmark made him feel sick to his
After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about “falling for him,” Marinette learns that he’s no match for cheesy pick-up lines–whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he’s Chat Noir. At which point the phrase “just desserts” becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.
A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for–even if he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.
Adrien had recently come to the conclusion that he was totally and utterly screwed.
The realization hadn’t hit him like a train or a truck, but sunk through him like the air slowly leaving a leaky balloon. Until he was sitting at dinner with his friends, silent and twisted in knots. He was both anxious and irritated, swirling his fork around his food and generally ignoring the discussion going on around him.
Ignoring it just as he was being ignored.
Though Marinette’s behavior toward him had been initially unexpected and continuously embarrassing, he’d long since come to accept that, well, he enjoyed the attention. Which meant that being suddenly ignored was beginning to grate on him. True, Marinette had said she’d do without pick-up lines for their time at the Ladybug and Chat Noir festival, but, well, he hadn’t thought she’d actually meant it.
He’d spent the first hour with his friends on his guard, hoping that, this time, he’d be able to reply with something witty when she’d addressed him, instead of blushing and stumbling all over himself. But, aside from when they’d left Alya’s house, she hadn’t so much as looked at him, let alone flirted with him.
No, he wasn’t entitled to her attention, he knew that, but it was rather deflating in a silly, childish sort of way. To the point where her lack of focus on him was putting his temperament in a foul state the longer the evening stretched on.
And, worst of all? She knew it. There were ways in which she’d turn away just as he was about to catch her eye, or how’d she’d leave him purposefully out of conversations, or how her body language was always turned away from him just as he turned to her. She was ignoring him so purposefully that all it did was draw in his attention more.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. No one could deny that Marinette was cute. Beautiful, even. And in that cat suit, she flew far past sexy. Which meant that, despite a quarter of the crowd sporting skintight suits, she drew attention. Every time a pair of wandering eyes trailed her way, Adrien felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle.
No, he wasn’t normally a jealous person. Well… okay, there had been that incident with Copycat, but he likened that to momentary bad judgement. Still, he wasn’t secure in his position with Marinette, which meant that every time she spoke nicely to a pair of wandering eyes and, in turn, acted like he wasn’t even there, he was driven a bit crazier.
I hate to break it to you, but what people call “love” is just a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. It hits hard Morty then it slowly fades leaving you stranded in a failing marriage. I did it. Your parents are going to do it. Break the cycle Morty, rise above, focus on science.
Kisses Aren’t Free, Are They? [Peter Maximoff Drabbles].
Title: Kisses Aren’t Free, Are They? Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader. Words: 1793. ( 5 drabbles ) Rating: T(Some sexual content)
“I’m telling you the truth,” You laughed quietly, gazing at your silver haired boyfriend with adoration running wild in your eyes. Holding your hands out to express with them, you didn’t get the chance for Peter was fast to grasp them, tangling his fingers between yours. The way he was moving was indolent compared to how quickly he would go more often than not, “I’m not ticklish.” Emphasizing your words by raising your shoulders, Peter gave you a look of skepticism. Pouting his lips out, as if to say, ‘liar’, he squeezed his hands against yours and the sudden, sharp sound of his chuckle caught your attention.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just, you’re so full of shit,” Peter cackled, throwing his head back and slowly letting his hand leave yours. The warmth of his fingertips was surely missed as you rested yours back into your lap as Peter readjusted himself in front of you, “Everyone is at least a little bit ticklish. Didn’t you know that it’s a defense mechanism?”
He inched his way towards your face, leaning forward on his knees, forehead pushing against yours. His breath was even on your face, and you could smell the sweetness of the last thing he had eat; a twinkie. “So,” Peter puffed, “I have reason to believe that you’re lying to me, why?” His voice came out childish, and whether it was intentional, or not, you weren’t sure. It matched his expression though, for it was as if mutant sitting in front of you was looking at the best sort of treat in the world.
“Maybe ‘cause I have a boyfriend who would use it against me?” you offered up in a small voice, afraid of what he was going to do now that you had admitted that. His expression changed, but only slightly. Peter’s dark eyes narrowed playfully, and before you could even take a breath of air into your lungs, he was pushing you onto your back. Conforming to his mattress, and the pillow that was docked under your hips, you caught a glimpse of his face and prepared for what you knew was coming. Snuggling himself between your legs, he kept his eyes on you.
“Why would I use it against you?” Peter pressed a kiss to your lips, holding himself up on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but why would I? Maybe…” He gasped suddenly, “I should because you lied about it.”
“You know I can’t stop you,” Biting down on your bottom lip, Peter sat up on his knees and ran his hands down your sides, scooting up your shirt without a word, or faltering. With heated cheeks, your felt his fingertips barely graze against the skin of your stomach. Not enough to cause you to laugh, but enough to let you know that he was teasing you. “Peterrrrr.” You drawled.
“I’m going to take my time with this knowledge.” He informed you, craning his down and kissing your mouth, “It’s good knowledge.” Dragging his mouth down, he kissed your jawline gently. “So good…” With a rough grip, Peter grasped at your sides and inched his lips back to yours where he was eager to commit. With an open mouth, he set his tongue against your perky mouth, waiting for you to open for him. There was the chance to tease, but that was something you weren’t willing to do, and within moments, your tongue was diving against his. It was meager contact, not too much, but still enough to make you crave more as Peter pulled away a few seconds later, flicking some of his silver hair out of his eyes.
“Mind telling me where you’re ticklish?” He inquired, peppering kisses against your jawline, down your neck, “Or, do I have to find out?”
Fandom: Supergirl Rating: Explicit Summary: When an unexpected guest shows up the night of CatCo’s holiday party, Kara must begin to accept her feelings about the changes in her life. Set in Season 2.
Happy holidays, beautiful SuperCat fandom! This is my Christmas wish for our lovely characters, the way I wish things were in canon, the way I hope they will someday be. There are some characters in here I know some of us aren’t too fond of, but I think it is important (at least for me) to learn how to work them into the stories and deal with them, at least in some small way. Still, this is a SuperCat fic, and trust me, nothing takes away from that. Nothing ever will. Hope you enjoy! Thank you, as always, for reading (:
Of all the galas and events CatCo threw each year, the annual holiday party was by far Kara’s favorite. It was more intimate than other lavish soirees she helped plan, its sole purpose to thank the writers, editors, assistants and countless others who kept the company running day after day, week after week. The decor was always delicate, awash in wintry white snowflakes and candlelight, champagne and fine hors d’oeuvres at every turn, and of course, the amazing twelve foot Christmas tree Cat herself took the honor of lighting. Kara always looked forward to that tradition in particular, when for once, her boss softened in front of the entire staff, getting a little misty as she acknowledged their hard work and dedication, before turning on the full charm, a sparkle in her eye as she lit the branches against the backdrop of National City. In that moment, everyone caught a glimpse of the woman she really was, a side Kara was thankful she got to see more than most.
Except this year, everything was different. Cat was gone, off somewhere searching for meaning, for the next big adventure, whatever that might be. Kara hadn’t heard anything from her since she left, not even so much as a text or an email. She tried not to take it personally, knowing she must have been busy, thinking it would get easier, that she’d miss her less as time went on, but only the opposite was true. Tonight, the party was just another reminder of her absence. Kara felt it so deeply, she truly wished she hadn’t come.
Nothing was the same, not the decorations, the food, nor the atmosphere. With James and his newly soaring ego in charge, it felt less about showing appreciation for the CatCo family and more about showing off. He and Winn had gone to great lengths to make it an over-the-top, booze-driven bash, trading the jazz ensemble for a blaring DJ booth, candles for flashy light displays, and a fake tree timed to music, already lit by the time the festivities started. The interim CEO had a gaggle of young interns fawning all over him, and Kara was happier than ever she’d put an end to whatever it was they’d started. Except now, she found herself without anyone to talk to, perched near the buffet table, taking in her share of cheese puffs while plotting an early escape.
lance takes anti-depressants and when they leave earth he doesn’t have the time to pack them
this doesn’t bother him too much at first but eventually it starts getting really bad
he thinks about asking allura and coran if they have any alien tech to recreate prescriptions but before he can act on anything he convinces himself that if he did they’d think less of him, be unable to, or he’d just be causing a burden (because we can’t have depressed lance without good-old anxiety filled lance now can we?)
this leads to a self destructive cycle that lasts a good while
his smile and personality that he keeps up become heavy and hard to maintain
he slowly stops eating and leaving his room except for missions
everyone gets very worried and try very hard to get him to open up or at least eat something
he comes out of his room one morning wearing pajamas that haven’t been washed in 3 weeks and with his hair unkempt and his face droopy
he eats about the equivalent of one space bagel before puking guts and dry-heaving in a grand display of deteriorating health and then promptly leaving
the next day when he comes out of his room for water he is meet with a blockade of voltron team/family preventing him from entering his room
they confront him in a comforting (but also mad and scared with a few) way
they get him to spill the beans about what started this and are sure there is some way to get him medication and that he should talk to them immediately if he has any problems
they find out later that he was genuinely considering suicide as an option and was near making a final decision before they confronted him
disclaimer: i do not take medication so if any of this sounds inaccurate, or if you just have something to add, be sure to reblog or say something on the post
‘Love’ is just a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. It hits hard, Harry, then it slowly fades, leaving you stranded in a failing marriage. Your parents did it, their parents did it. Break the cycle, Harry, rise above. Focus on pranks.
SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT MOON MEN!! This isn't a musical number! This is a fucking... operation, we gotta be cool and fucking lay low.
Listen Morty, I hate to break it to you, but what people calls "love" is just a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. It hits hard, Morty, then it slowly fades, leaving you stranded in a failing marriage. I did it. Your parents are gonna do it. Break the cycle, Morty. Rise above. Focus on science.
Don't be a baby! You avoid getting shot in real life all the time, Morty! Just do the same thing here and we'll be fine!
The outside world is our enemy, Morty! We're the only fehh-friends we got, Morty! It's just Rick and Morty! Ruh-ick and Morty and their adventures, Morty! Rick and Morty forever and forever, 100 years, Rick and Morty's things! Me and Rick and Morty running around and... Rick and Morty time! All day long, forever... all- a hundred days! Rick and Morty forever a hundred times! Over and over, rickandmortyadventures.com. Www.rickandmorty.com. Www.rickandmortyadventures. All 100 years. Every minute, rickandmorty.com. [closing garage door inside] Www.100timesrickandmorty.com.
Whatever you're asking, the answer is I'm amazing. And away we go!
Okay. 60 (burp) for the resonator, and my grandson wants the sex robot.
Morty, that's such a poor use of my time, it's beneath me. Hand me the screwdriver.
Right, yeah, like nothing shady ever happened in a fully furnished office? You ever hear about Wall Street, Morty? Y-Y-Y'know what those guys do i-in-in their fancy boardrooms? They take their balls and they dip 'em in cocaine and wipe 'em all over each other—y'know, Grandpa goes around and he does his business in public, because Grandpa isn't shady.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a five year old Sally Jackson desperately wondering how her parents could leave her, not understanding why she was now all alone.
Don’t think about a sixteen year old Sally Jackson having to drop out of high-school and take up several jobs to support her uncle, burying her dream of graduating and becoming a writer, because it was never going to happen now.
Don’t think about a seventeen year old Sally Jackson watching all her friends go on to college, slowly leaving her behind and forgetting about her.
Don’t think about an eighteen year old Sally Jackson crying at her uncle’s funeral, because that was it, her family was fully gone, and she was all alone.
Don’t think about a twenty year old Sally Jackson lying on the beach, after she found out Poseidon, the man she had fallen in love with so deeply and quickly, was a god, realising that he too would leave her.
Don’t think about a twenty year old Sally Jackson finding out she was pregnant, and realising that her baby would be a demigod, and attract monsters… and then running into a man called Gabe at work that day.
Don’t think about a twenty-one year old Sally Jackson crying as she held her newborn baby, because if she was sure about one thing, it was that her baby was going to have a better life than she did, and she would never, ever leave him.
Don’t think about her kissing her baby’s forehead, and, recalling all the myths her parents had told her when she was young of one particular hero, whispering, “I name you Perseus.”
She cocks her head to the side. “How handsomely are we talking here?”
He purses his lips though she senses it’s more out of amusement than of irritation at her. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip in a leisurely move that still seems too calculated to be anything but deliberate, and yet it’s with Herculean effort that she not bite her own lips and let out a soft moan in response to the sight.
Her face gives nothing away but internally, she crows, well shit.
The left corner of his mouth tips up into a crooked smile, as if he knows what she’s thinking. She should be annoyed as hell, but… but, the smile brings out the dimple in his cheek despite the scruff that lines his face and she finds that she’s abso-fucking-lutely fuckstruck.
Double shit, she thinks.
He holds his hand out, fingers uncurling slowly and inching towards her space. “Do we have an accord?”
Six fucking grand, Christ. Is the sky blue? Is water wet?
But still, her face is a blank canvas.
“Fine,” then she narrows her eyes at him. “But this isn’t Pretty Woman. You’re not Richard Gere looking to sweep me off my feet and I’m not Julia Roberts looking to be swept off my feet. This isn’t some movie or a goddamn fairy tale. Got it?”
He scoffs, and rolls his eyes for good measure. “Of course not. Julia Roberts stayed for a week. I asked for a weekend. Also,” his smile takes a smug turn then, “I am more devilishly handsome than Richard Gere and you, my dear,” this time she’s certain the way his eyes leisurely sweep the length of her body is intentional, “are most definitely more… enchanting than Julia Roberts.”
His perusal ends in an intense inspection of her lips, and it makes her roll her eyes.
“Whatever,” she returns though her lips quirk upwards in poorly concealed humor. But before he can comment on it, she continues with, “Deal.”
His eyebrows do a dance atop his forehead that should not be endearing but by god it is and just what the hell has she gotten herself into?
She gives a near imperceptible shake of her head as if she can dislodge the crazy thoughts up there. Then she glares at him like it’s his fault.
(Because it is)
“Did I stutter?” She looks at his still outstretched hand and also because she has apparently arrived in Crazy Station she might as well board the train too.
So she takes it.
Gives it a quick shake.
(Tries to ignore the way electricity shoots up her arm at the contact)
(Or the way her skin warms and her blood sings when, instead of giving it a shake too, he raises it to his lips where he bestows a lingering kiss upon her knuckles)
(A kiss that is hardly chaste, if that hint of tongue is anything to go by)
She’s quick to withdraw and if he’s offended by the action, he’s got a funny way of showing it because there’s a shit-eating grin on his face and an excitable bounce to his step when he nears her.
“Oh, love,” the grin turns soft suddenly, as he tucks a stray lock behind her ear. Her breath catches. “It’s sure to be an interesting weekend.”
She doesn’t reply. Just tries to swallow the acquiescence that burns in her throat in lieu of the thought that pushes itself to the forefront of her mind once more.
Just what the hell has she gotten herself into?
Should I keep going? Thoughts? :) Title taken from The Clash cause it’s currently stuck in my head.