A Yamamoto/Gokudera arc in which Yamamoto decides Gokudera could really use someone to take care of him since he doesn't seem to attend to that at all himself.

A collection of phone calls placed by one Yosuke Hanamura.

He noticed the way Clary’s hand would rub soothing lines up and down Simon’s back as they sat in meetings. He would watch, face hot with something like jealousy when Clary would kiss Simon’s cheek whenever she left the room. Jace saw it all. And to be honest, it was probably inevitable that he would start to watch Simon, too.

Short fic about newly-crowned King Alistair coming to terms with being married to Anora, and vice versa.

Mirio's always been enchanted by the luminescent displays of firefly squid coming to the surface of the water to spawn this time of year—who wouldn’t be? But last week was when he’d realized they’re edible, and he’d begged Tamaki to try. Tamaki had refused. Hero training is bad enough, with such a monstrous, inhuman quirk, he’d said. Let’s not go out of our way to make it worse. Mirio had dropped the subject and assumed that was the end of that. But it’s definitely a tiny, pickled squid that Tamaki pulls from the box, his throat bobbing as he swallows it whole.

Yunmeng Jiang is housing a retinue from Qinghe, here on diplomatic grounds. Among the people gathered here is Sect Leader Nie. Maybe that’s the reason why Jiang Cheng is restless - he can never keep himself still around that man. Jiang Cheng feels so stupid to act this way - as if wartime flings aren’t just a thing that happen sometimes - but how can he help it, when the last time they’d met, all those months ago during the Sunshot Campaign, Nie Mingjue had pressed kiss after aching kiss to his mouth, to his neck, to his shoulders? Jiang Cheng bites his lip and breathes out hard through his nose. He needs to work off some of this energy, before it comes back to bite him in the ass. Before he starts expecting things that weren’t meant for him in the first place.

“Tell me I’m beautiful, Lan er-gege!” “You are well aware you are beautiful,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Wuxian trips over Jiang Wanyin and sends both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs and bruises.

Surprisingly, Sui Zhou is the one who writes to him first. Less surprising is that Tang Fan gets involved too (they always did seem to come as a set). -- Wang Zhi, Sui Zhou, and Tang Fan do their best to express themselves via letters where verbally they couldn't.

Two gremlins, their husbands, and the horrible HOA board. As long as nobody gets arrested for arson or murder, we're gonna call it a win.

Sid refuses to be jealous of something that's two and a half feet high and can't play hockey. OR: The Pittsburgh Zoo named some penguins after the Penguins, and no one will let Sid forget the one named after him has its shit together, because all his friends are assholes. Also there's pining.

Zhenya nudges Gonch with his elbow. "Who is that?" he says in urgent Russian, jabbing his glove at the now retreating zamboni. "Who?" Gonch follows the line of Zhenya's gaze, blinks when it lands on the zamboni. "What, the driver? Him?" Zhenya nods vigorously, his eyes fixed on the zamboni. Gonch stares at him for a few seconds before answering with hesitation, "That's...Sidney."

“So I’ve noticed something,” Sid says, and Zhenya makes a face. Sid is using his Serious Captain Voice and he is using Personal Discussion Introductory Phrase No. 3. Fuck’s sake.

"No," Beau says sternly. "Geno, I am not wearing that." "Boss's order!" Geno says gleefully. "Is Paul Martin jersey. Ginger d-man, very handsome. You like!" Beau takes the jersey and pulls it over his head reluctantly. He very much regrets accidentally telling Geno that he has a serious weakness for muscular redheads.

They met by accident, fate, Geno always says, three years ago.

“What is it that you do, Omega Malkin?” Sid says eventually, tired of the guessing game. Apparently, he’s asked a controversial question. There’s a tension in the air. Mrs. Malkin starts giving a very particular look to her son and Omega Malkin shifts in his seat and straightens his spine like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Hockey,” Omega Malkin says evenly. Sid’s fork slips from his grip and clatters against his plate. He looks up and across the table at Omega Malkin. -- or; Sidney Crosby is an unbonded werewolf. So is Evgeni Malkin.

Dylan doesn’t know whose idea it was to put hockey players in lingerie, but he kind of wants to send them a thank-you card.

Connor’s experienced some weird fan interactions since he’s joined the NHL, but nothing surprises him quite as much as when a little girl raises her hand during a fan Q&A and asks him if he’s married. Not because it’s a particularly outlandish or rude question, but because his first instinct is to say “Yes.”

The way to a hockey player's heart is through his wings, and the way to a goalie's heart is through his bower. Or: five times PK saw Carey's bower, and one time they saw someone else's.

“Bakugou?” Bakugou shuffled on his feet, hovering over Kirishima and looking at the ground with stormy eyes. He glanced up to glare at Kirishima, a silent dare to call him out on his odd behavior no doubt. Kirishima forced himself not to tense. Whatever Bakugou wanted, he was about to show him and Kirishima had to get this right. Bakugou was all about showing and not telling. Kirishima nearly bit his tongue to keep in a squawk of surprise when Bakugou suddenly dropped to his knees next to him, shuffling forward until he could press his forehead to his thigh and hide his face against Kirishima's leg. Kirishima opened his mouth, questions on the tip of his tongue, and he barely managed to catch them before they could be given voice. Bakugou was trembling minutely, his entire frame so tense his muscles were twitching under Kirishima's gaze. “Just. Don't say anything,” Bakugou muttered, hands clenching in his lap tightly. “Please,” he whispered, a short choked sound.

In which Aizawa brings an extra kid to mountain training camp, leaves his sleeping bag at school, and ends up sharing a futon with Yagi Toshinori for three agonizing nights before everything folds.

Seb tries to help Sam defeat a particularly difficult level of a video game. He is a complete little shit about it. He gets what he deserves.

Sebastian takes his problems and a confusing gift to the lake for some Frog Therapy, and things go a little wrong before they go a little right.

Sam is feeling pretty good so far. His jean jacket is freshly washed, he’s got his favourite red-yellow shirt on (he thinks it contrasts nicely with the blue-green of his eyes). His hair has enough gel in it to withstand even the fiercest windstorms. He’s put deodorant on three times already and he’s wearing enough body spray to bring tears to his mother’s eyes. Gotta smell good, just in case things go according to plan. Today is going to be the day he declares his feelings to Sebastian. He’s ready.

Sebastian thought that the Flower Dance would be the worst part of his day. Then he gets dragged into a conversation he wants no part of and brings up something he wanted to forget. It was then up to Sam to pick up the pieces.

Sebastian has two exes: Abigail, because he isn’t into women, and Sam, because he isn’t into men either. This doesn’t stop Sam and Abigail—now dating each other—from dragging Sebastian along when they move into an abandoned farmhouse outside of town. They’re exes, they’re best friends, and now they’re building something new that’s greater than the sum of their history. Sebastian is in for an adventure of domesticity. Or: Nobody else moves into the farmhouse and overthrows JojaMart, so the band has to do it themselves.

Despite his best efforts, Andrew finds himself a family.

"You're so fucking stubborn," Hood says. "It's infuriating." Red bristles, but fighting's like foreplay when he's got this much adrenaline. "Yeah?" He taunts. Can't help himself. Hood's grip around his wrist tightens, and it only serves to remind Red how fucking strong he is. Red's pulse somehow gets even faster, beating in his ears so loudly that he isn't sure how Hood doesn't hear it. "Yeah," Hood agrees. Tim's watching his mouth as it forms the words. "It drives me fuckin' crazy, babybird."

Maybe it was because he didn’t have time to read the gossip columns; maybe it was because he seriously underestimated the audience’s power to “Ship It”, but Bruce didn’t *immediately* cotton onto the fact that his scheme made half the country think that his son was in love with, well, his *other* son.

The news that Timothy Drake, Gotham’s cryptid millionaire, has shot the Joker dead during a public live-stream hits the world like a freight train—and that is just the opening salvo of his bugfuck plan. Maybe there exists, in the multiverse, a configuration of Jason Todd who will weather this with decorum, dignity and self-respect. This version of Jason Todd decides that the life of an academic is not, really, all that rewarding. In contrast, the life of Timothy Drake’s live-in house-husband is looking more appealing by the second.

So listen, Danny knew going into this PA job that it was a bad idea to work directly under Tim Drake-Wayne. He knows himself, and unfortunately that means he knows his type, which Tim was practically tailor made for. It's like whatever ghost is in charge of the cycle of reincarnation sat down with clockwork to pick out the perfect soul and genetic donors for his future King to fall in love with. He knows for a fact that didn't happen; Clockwork is too much a smug bastard to NOT have poked the two of them into each other's lives yet if that was the case.