A lighthearted vignette wherein a young lady, away from home at a professional conference, utilizes the internet to discuss an important issue in interpersonal relationships with the young man she has been cohabiting with for several years. Files are sent, metaphors are abused, and a happy ending is guaranteed.

The thing is, Derek’s really, really hot. Like, insane levels of attraction. What with the leather and the cheekbones and the stubble and the ass — oh god, that ass — Stiles can’t really be blamed, at all for freaking bragging. Now if only his college friends actually believed Derek existed.

It’s not like it’s rare at his gigs for someone to sidle up to the booth and go, “Hey! Nice music!”, grinning and interested. "If you’re hitting on me, queue’s on your left," Dave replies, and then he looks.

"Holy crap", the guy says, sprawled on Dave’s bed with arms akimbo. Dave swallows a smirk, and pushes his hand off so he can lay down beside him, side by side. No contact though, they’re both too warm and sweaty.

“I can’t believe you’d come to me with such a foolish matter!”

Years later, Tony meets Harley Keener at a science and engineering fair.

"Well, you're a werewolf," Stiles says. Kevin has always had a pretty good poker face, but Stiles takes him completely by surprise, enough that there's a tell-tale pause that lasts a beat too long for the, "No I'm not," to be believed.

Stiles gets friendly with a Tentacle Monster.

Emotionally constipated dudes expressing love through making out and deciding to have a kid. In front of the Stanley Cup. #thatsit #thatsthefic

A chirp (and not even a very good one) leads to coming out to his teammates.

The Iron Bull never asked Dorian to stay, but Dorian did.

If he were being honest, it all started that first year, when Stiles called him Miguel and told Derek to put one of Stiles's shirts on. It sat in the back of his brain for two years after that, a quiet whisper he scarcely acknowledged. But they're fucking now, and it's brought it all back out.

i have a leverage ot3 headcanon where parker, hardison, and eliot end up taking on apprentices as the years go by and eventually retire somewhere warm and sunny. eliot really never expected to live long enough to retire and it takes him a good long while to get used to it.

Arya Stark is his best friend, and she has never wanted to be treated like a lady. But sometimes Gendry forgets.

Myrcella Hill is her mother's daughter, more or less.

Myrcella knows what is said of her rule behind her back, that she presides over a court of bastards and women. Who better to rule a realm of bastards and women?

In the dark, under the bedclothes, Margaery calls Sansa her Queen in the North, her Red Wolf.

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, or: Sansa goes home.

Will and Nico are lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had.

Finn is somewhat underprepared. Poe is only trying to help.

Brienne looks like the perfect portrait of a knight, kneeling in supplication before her lady.

"If you're hitting on me, queue's to your left," Dave replies, and then he looks. The man has nice arms. Solid shoulders, strong biceps. Baby face still, baby-blue eyes in the white strobe lights and friendly dimples. Someone got him with funny cat-whiskers paint that's just subtle enough to tickle Dave's funny bone, but with a body like that he's got to be at least twenty. "What, no!" The man blushes so hard Dave can see his face darken even through the flashing lighting and dim of the dance floor. He actually honest-to-God flails his hands, what a dork. "I just -- argh, and you totally know that, don't you?" -- Anonymous asked: Dave/Naruto, hooking up at a house party (papabrostrider is to blame for this one)

The common folk whisper about the Council of Kings and Queens that rules over Westeros. They whisper that they are the Seven reborn.

Snippets in the life of Katsuki Yuuri, 24, as he lives his life with his coach-and-rival-and-fiancé, 5-time world champion, coffee-master, love-of-his-life, Victor Nikiforov.

Every Tuesday, Head Auror Harry Potter gets a new secretary, until one day he hires Draco Malfoy, who is oddly determined to find out why.

Yuri cooks piroshki. He knows everything's a mess on the counter-tops, but Otabek is late.

Sanji and Zoro show a little of their affection and mutual respect (the uninitiated say it looks a lot like 'trying to beat the shit out of each other', but that's because they don't know these two guys very well)

Let it be known that Yuri Plisetsky is killed by his first friend, and possibly, if given more time—and if he could just admit it deep down in his heart that yes, he has a crush on Otabek the size of St. Petersburg—his first boyfriend, during the exhibition gala of Trophee de France. Oh, what’s the murder weapon, you ask? The goddamn hoodie. Or: Otabek dresses sexy for his EX Gala and Yuri loses his shit.

Unemployed librarian Bobby Dismas isn't sure how Leverage found him or what they want with him, but apparently it has something to do with his conspiracy theory website about Roy Chappel (and Kenneth Crane, and Jacques Labert).

They were starving. That was reason enough for Zeff to open the Baratie's doors and feed them, whoever the hell they were.

Eral grew up near White Foal Pass. It's made things interesting. It takes him weeks of training to realize that not everyone can light fires by glaring at them. :About time, Chosen: Soja says dryly, and Eral scowls into space. :Half Stonesburn can do that. Mira’s Da can do it with wet wood. I didn’t realize it was rare.: ------ (sometimes known as, "10 things Lavan changed about peoples lives after dying"

Tsuna and Xanxus get married. Tsuna and Xanxus get even.

There comes a point when a person has to say, "Enough." And Tsuna just reached his.

A predator belongs only to himself.

Gokudera prefers it when Yamamoto isn't serious.

Sometimes Hibari's pride takes precedence over his taste for what is traditional.

After things get back to normal, Hibari has some explaining to do.

Give Yamamoto an inch, and he'll try to take a mile. Hibari's not entirely sure he approves of that.

In which Yamamoto and Gokudera attempt to communicate with each other and mostly make a mess of it, but get there eventually.

Sometimes it takes a little bit of doing to get Gokudera's attention.

So they've got a little time on their hands to dispose of.

Some things, no matter how effective, are not to be used as negotiating tactics.

In which Yamamoto has cause to go undercover with Bianchi and discovers something about himself.

"Best press conference ever," the Japanese Nationals silver medalist says when asked. “Ten out of ten, would medal again.” "I would die for Katsuki-kun," Minami declares, with terrifying sincerity.

“I’m…uh….a retired competitive figure skater?” he asks, his voice going higher with embarrassment. “And I…uh…got 2 golds in the Grand Prix…and 2 golds in Worlds….and maybe a silver in Pyeongchang?”

Stiles goes to a Halloween party on campus to blow off some steam after a stressful week of midterms. He doesn't expect the party to be crashed by both a supernatural predator and Derek Hale.

“Over your desk?” Kiba says, lazily amused. “Shikamaru's gonna kill you.”

“Mom! Dad! Father! Someone’s at the door!” “Oh gods,” Sakura mutters, head halfway buried under the pillow. “How did she get your lungs, Naruto?” There's a sound of tired agreement from her left, though Sasuke doesn’t even attempt to pick his face up out of the mattress. “You're the medic-nin,” Naruto says, amused, and pushes up on one elbow to squint blearily at the bedroom door. “Want to draw straws?” “You're already up,” Sasuke probably says, though even Naruto's ears have a hard time catching it. “And before eight they're your kids.”

Neji is nineteen. He’s Hokage. The House system has officially been demolished, and the key to his seal, to every Caged Bird Seal, is sitting on the desk in front of him. It feels like freedom, and maybe a little like terror.

The Chargers help rebuild Kirkwall, the Bull pines, and Hawke is sometimes an insightful drunk.