before round two, i've got a question for you, babe
if it ain't love
why does it feel so good?
In which Adrien learns how to flirt, and Marinette screams internally, externally, and eternally.
by: a_miiraculer, clairelutra
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Hiya, for once I’m in the mood for something fluffy so if it isn’t too much trouble could you write something for # 12 from the fluff list of sentence starters? -🌸
I am so sorry this took so long holy fuck I hope you’re still in the mood for some fluff
prompt: “He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint” (from this list)
Read Like I Like You here on ao3
Harley wore the cuffs of his sweater between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t usually sit in on whole team R&D meetings, but Tony wanted him to get out more so he sent him to this one.
“You don’t have normal friends, kid,” he’d said. “Just this once. Try and meet some people, okay?”
He regretted agreeing to go, but at least this wasn’t as high stakes as a charity gala. No one would notice him if he kept to the back of the room and took notes quietly.
Then someone sat next to him. The guy smiled at him before turning to pull out his own notes. Harley hoped he wouldn’t be chatty.
“I’m Ned,” the guy said. “I haven’t seen you around before, so I figured I’d introduce myself. Are you new?”
He considered ignoring him, but decided against it. “Not exactly. I’m Harley.”
Ned cocked his head to one side. “I won’t ask how ‘not exactly’ works, but what brings you here now?”
“Ran into a roadblock. My boss figured if I spent more time around other engineers that maybe it would help.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d been hitting a wall, and this was about his last hope for finding something, anything, that would fix it.
“Need a rubber duck?”
He must be a computer programmer. “I’ve been sweet talkin’ this engine for a week, and I still got nothing.”
“Of a sort.” He didn’t like to brag about his rocket engine and satellite contracts on top of all his other qualifications.
“You’d probably get along with Parker then. Technically it’s not his specialty, but don’t let that fool you. The guy can repair engines faster than most professionals, he just prefers chemistry. He’s a friend of mine. Typically he sits with me when he’s not presenting the meeting.”
“Don’t be nervous, everyone here is pretty nice even to not exactly new guys.”
“Good to know. Thanks, man.”
Ned winked before turning to his phone, leaving Harley to review some the experimental equations he had written down. He just wished he could get them to work.
MJ looked down at her phone and snorted.
“What’s up?” Peter asked, barely glancing up from his presentation cards.
“Ned made a friend.”
“Doesn’t he know everybody who’s supposed to be at this meeting? It’s interdepartmental right?” He started to feel panicky all of a sudden. This was his first solo presentation, and Stark was trusting him-
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” MJ told him. “He’s the only person unfamiliar in the room, and Ned is under the impression that he might have used to work in another department or something. According to him, you’ll probably get along with the new guy just fine.”
“Or Stark sent a spy to see if I can handle the pressure,” he muttered. Then he barely managed to dodge MJ’s slap to the back of the head. “I know I know, I’m overthinking this and it probably really is a new guy. I’ve been preparing for this for two weeks, I can handle it.”
“That’s the spirit. Look at me.”
“Deep breaths, Peter. You look great, you’re smart as hell, you’re gonna crush this.”
“Yeah.” He ignored his shaking hands. “Let’s do this.”
They stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner that led to the conference room. That’s when Peter saw him.
New Guy was perched haphazardly on a chair at the back of the room, a large notepad balanced on his knee and a pencil between his lips. His sandy blonde hair flopped into his face, and the sweater he was wearing might have seemed unprofessional in any other environment, but it somehow worked on him.
Then he looked up, and oh no. New Guy’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly causing the pencil to fall. When he scrambled to pick it back up, Peter resigned his fate.
“He’s so pretty I think I’m going to faint,” he whispered to MJ.
She just rolled her eyes. “Go introduce yourself to him, dumbass. You’re team leader, you’re supposed to do that for new people anyways.”
His feet moved outside of his own volition, and he ended up in front of New Guy, who had found the pencil and stood back up only to end up face to face with Peter. If it was possible, New Guy’s eyes got wider, and his face turned a deep pink.
Peter channeled every ounce of professionalism he had in his body and smiled. “Hey, I’m Peter Parker, today’s team leader. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, so I wanted to come over and introduce myself before we get this meeting started.” He held out his hand for the guy to shake.
“Um, hi, I’m Harley. Harley Keener. I’m sorry, I promise you won’t notice me. I’m just kinda here, I guess.” Harley ducked his head, and Peter wanted to placate him and keep him from ever feeling anxious ever again.
“Hey, don’t sweat it. You’ll fit in just fine,” Peter assured him. “If you need anything, you can always grab me afterwards okay?”
“Okay, thank you.” The smile Harley gave him was small but sweet, and Peter hoped to hell he was going to continue working here just so he could see it every day.
He mussed up Ned’s hair with a grin before walking up to the front of the room to prep his presentation.
“That’s Peter alright, the dickhead. Mr. Perfect has no idea how long it took to get my hair right this morning and now-” he tried smoothing it out with his fingers to no avail.
“He seems nice,” Harley tried.
Ned snickered. “Sure, a smile like that has all the boys swooning.”
Harley shot him a look.
“Hey, I don’t care if you’re straight, gay, bi, or actually attracted to pans, okay? You do you, I’m just pointing out the obvious. People like him, and I’d put good money on him liking you.”
A girl sat down on Harley’s other side.
“Hey Jonesy,” Ned greeted.
“You lost Jonesy privileges,” she said. Then she addressed Harley. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Harley Keener.”
“Like the motorcycle?”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately. I built my own solar powered bike years ago instead.”
She nodded appreciatively. “Michelle Jones, but you can call me Jonesy.”
“Why does he get Jonesy privileges?”
“Because he doesn’t seem like an asshole, Ned, plus if Peter has anything to say about it, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of him.”
Before Harley got in a word edgewise, that they’d probably never see him again, Peter called their attention and started going over the upcoming quarter’s goals and projects. Discussions rose from time to time, and Harley settled in to listen to all the minds working around him.
He was going to stay out of it. He really was.
“So, this next one is a potential new fuel type,” Peter was saying. “The contractor wants something with a helium base because of its potential to burn energy-”
“It’ll be too unstable,” Harley jutted in before he could stop himself. “He’s more likely to wreck every engine in his arsenal before he pulls it off. Nitrogen would be more sustainable and would work better for the end result he wants.”
Peter’s gaze caught his, and he flushed. “You’re good, New Guy, I’ll give you that. Wanna come up and show your work?”
He held a holo-pen out to Harley, and he hesitated before rising from his seat and taking it from him. He closed his eyes and started drumming his fingers before touching it to the board at the front of the room. Equations started flowing out of his hands like ribbons tied in bows around the rough blueprint sketches. His explanations wove in and out of the loops as he spoke quickly to try and keep up with his own writing.
When he finished, he turned around to face the room. Ned’s jaw had dropped, and Jonesy had a smug look on her face. By the expression on Peter’s face, he was mildly shocked, and someone- someone was laughing.
“Jesus kid, you done taking them to school?” Tony was leaning in the doorway looking inexplicably proud of him. He didn’t miss the color draining from Peter’s face.
Harley glanced back at the board to review what he had done. “Wanna grade my work with a red pen, old man?”
Everyone went tense when he dared to make a jab at their boss. They relaxed again when Tony let out a peal of laughter. “So I see you all have met my apprentice.”
“You’re Tony Stark’s apprentice?” Peter gawked.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry, this isn’t really my department. He just kicked me out of the lab with directions to come down here and sit in on this meeting. I’m sorry if I messed something up-”
“No, no no, you’re Tony Stark’s apprentice, you can do whatever you want forever, but holy shit.”
“You can quote John Mulaney?”
Peter’s smile was infectious, he noticed.
Tony rolled his eyes. He directed his next question at Peter. “Where were you at in the presentation before the reason I never plan on having kids decided to be a genius at you?”
He checked his cards. “That was the last thing. Everyone is dismissed unless there are questions or concerns, or if you need us for something Mr. Stark.”
“No, no, I saw enough. You’ve got a good team, Mr. Parker. I trust you. That's why I wanted you to lead this team. Congrats kid, the position is permanently yours if you want it.”
“If you want to take some time to think about it, you absolutely can. Hell, if you’re caught up on your work, I’d be okay with you leaving for the rest of the day and you can email me your answer.”
“Maybe over coffee!” Ned called.
“The guy’s not in your department so you don’t have to worry about the fraternization policy!” Jonesy added.
Harley couldn’t contain his laughter when Tony blinked.
“You stay out of this!” Peter yelled. “I’m sorry about them, Mr. Stark, but I don’t need the day. My answer is yes, sir, I’d be honored.”
“Oh, but he’s still taking the rest of the day off,” Harley said. “What do you say Mr. Parker? You ever been to that lovely little coffee shop just up the block?”
Peter shook his head.
“What do you say I buy you a cup of coffee to celebrate, huh darlin’?”
In that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to be around Peter’s smile for as long as he let him. “Sure, alright.”
“Need to do anything to pack up before I whisk you off?”
“Let me just put my stuff in my desk and I’ll meet you by the elevator,” he said before rushing off to finish the task.
Tony watched the exchange go down with confusion written all over his face.
“Am I an asshole if I cite your own reasoning of getting me out of the lab to take the afternoon off?”
“You’re the worst,” Tony grumbled. “I made a mistake. Please go back to being antisocial.”
Jonesy clapped Harley on the back. “Oh no, he’s one of us now.”
“This isn’t going to end well. Fine, I won’t stop you. Go, have fun, be respectful, mind your manners, and remember to be a gentleman.”
In his rush to get out the door, he almost forgot about the pad of paper he’d brought down to take notes. “Put this on my workbench please and thanks,” he said as he shoved them into Tony’s hands.
He held out his arm to Peter when they reached the elevator. “How do you take your coffee, honey?”
“The same way I like my men, sweetheart.” Peter told him. “It should have a little bit of a bite with just enough sugar to smooth it over.”
Harley was pleased to note that their first kiss met Peter’s qualifications perfectly.
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Absence of Words (Sawdust of Words 12)
At very long last, we have a new "Sawdust of Words" story!
Absence of Words, 13.5k, rated G.
Sunday after the Apocalypse
They've survived an attempted Armageddon and near-executions, confessed their feelings, and now Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to spend the rest of eternity together.
But thousands of years of abuse are not so easily shrugged off. If this is going to work, if they're going to last longer than a few hours, Aziraphale and Crowley will need to learn to communicate.
It may be their greatest challenge yet.
This fic takes place immediately after the "love confession" story "Finding the Words," and is my first real exploration in the series of what 6000 years of abuse and unhealthy communication becomes when you're abruptly free of your abusers AND starting a new relationship on the same day. Spoilers: it goes badly.
(However, I assure you all - it does have a happy ending and they will get better in the future!)
I shared the first scenes a few days ago, so the excerpt below is from slightly later, 1.3k of Aziraphale settling his emotions upon returning to the shop after the extreme thrill of walking hand-in-hand with Crowley for almost an hour. Hope you enjoy!
(CW for references to Heaven's emotional abuse/manipulation/gaslighting, and particularly to the fact that Aziraphale is still thinking in the ways they conditioned him to)
Aziraphale pushed the door of his shop closed and breathed a sigh of relief. Home again. His own space, where everything always made a little more sense, felt a little more secure.
Despite the fire, everything was exactly as it should be. Every book, every figurine, every speck of dust perfectly in its place. Even the rug he’d moved aside to contact Heaven lay flat in the center of the floor where it belonged, as if the entire horrid day hadn’t happened.
He paused for a moment, fingers resting on a stack of books, and took another deep breath. He didn’t feel quite settled yet; a cup of tea would really help, though he wasn’t sure if he had the time to make one properly.
Fortunately, as an angel, he had other options.
His favorite tea mug already sat on the desk by his favorite chair. Perfect. A quick miracle filled it with warm black tea, a blend of leaves with a hint of roast chestnut, something a little sweeter but more subtle than sugar, and a few buds of chamomile and safflower petals to help him relax. Then he settled into the chair and took a slow drink, letting the flavors linger on his tongue.
Yes, precisely what he needed. A moment of calm amidst the whirlwind, something Crowley would certainly understand once he’d had a chance to explain properly. Five minutes and he’d be ready for whatever excitement the world threw at him, or that he threw himself into, as that seemed to be something he did now.
He wiggled his shoulders, burrowing more comfortably into his pillows, pleased at his own boldness, wondering what he should try next. He’d played football once, years ago, perhaps they could find some energetic youths and play a match. Or he could learn a musical instrument, spend a day as one of those street-corner musicians. Not that he’d ever really wantedto, but he could if he liked, and the possibility was thrilling.
Or he could do something really audacious, like run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. That possibility made a great deal of heat rise to his face as he eyed the sofa where the demon liked to sprawl.
As he did, Aziraphale noticed a few things out of place. Nothing major. The blanket, usually draped across the sofa, lay neatly folded over the arm. The odds and ends across his desk had been properly stacked. The nearest bookshelf had been re-organized so that the books ran from the smallest on the left to the largest on the right. Even this mug, he realized, hadn’t been used for at least two days and should be sitting spotless in its cupboard.
Several possible explanations came to mind, particularly that in recreating the destroyed shop Adam had put a few items in the wrong spots. But he knew Crowley had spent hours waiting here this morning. Perhaps he’d done a little tidying, then sat and made himself a cup of tea.
That brought another fascinating blend of emotions. A little alarming, to be drinking from the same cup. Not proper at all, in today’s society, though it would have been more acceptable in the past. But in modern society, there was something intimate about it. And he found he didn’t mind that at all.
Not intimate, Aziraphale thought, eyes drifting across the shelf again. Domestic. Now there was an interesting idea. Crowley making himself at home in the shop. Making himself a snack, lounging about and being rude to customers, doing his little cleaning routine when he felt nervous, helping himself to a glass of wine in the evening or padding around in bare feet after waking up in the morning…
Instinctively, Aziraphale clamped down on the whole line of thought, burying it, glancing about to see if someone had somehow noticed.
But…there was no one to notice anything. No one to worry about. Not now, not ever again.
He set down the mug and pressed his hands together. He’d never really considered himself trapped in the first place. Yes, he’d needed to be careful to avoid notice, judgement, but that was his own fault for not being the right sort of angel, for failing to measure up again and again.
And yet. There was no longer any reason to be careful.
No longer any reason to lie.
That was all Crowley had asked, wasn’t it? That Aziraphale stop lying?
Honesty. Now there was his most audacious idea yet.
“I…” He put his fingers to his lips, not quite sure he dared. But he could. He could. “I…love…”
His voice hitched over the word, his mind filling with caution, with warnings not to go too far.
“I lo-love…” Why was he shaking? He could hardly be reprimanded for it now. “I love…Crowley.”
The name seemed to hang in the air, echo off the walls. This was madness, of course, he had taken no precautions. He had every reason to think Gabriel might come back, for a check-up, for some final business, and Aziraphale would — would disappoint him, and that was worse than any punishment.
Only. Only that didn’t matter, did it? What was Gabriel’s disappointment, compared to a garden, a bright sky, and Crowley leaning down to brush his lips…
“I…I love Crowley!” It came out louder and more defiant than he intended, as warmth and excitement rushed through Aziraphale. “I love him! And he loves me!”
He gasped, just a little, to hear it out loud.
He loves me.
Sinking back into his seat again, Aziraphale rubbed his eyes. The mask of calm that had carried him through the Apocalypse fell away, and now he found himself quite close to actual tears.
He’d wondered for so many years. 78 years, 3 months and 14 days, to be precise. Did Crowley love him? Could Crowley love him? Did he feel even a fraction of that powerful force that Aziraphale often worried would destroy him, destroy them both?
It frightened him, sometimes, the love Aziraphale felt, warm and insistent, brash and bold, at times quite needy. Nothing like the pure love of Heaven, patient and kind, austere and a little distant. Not something to be freely given in exchange for a smile or a box of chocolates, but something to strive for, to inspire one towards improvement, towards one’s best self.
He’d tried, of course, oh how he’d tried. Every assignment, every duty, pouring every last bit of himself into whatever they asked of him with such good intentions, hoping for a sign, a bit of praise, a brush of that loving warmth. He always failed, of course, flawed and imperfect angel that he was.
He couldn’t resent Heaven for holding that love in reserve; that, too, was an expression of love, for how could one grow and develop if everything were simply handed to one?
But it had been lonely. So very lonely for so very long.
Crowley loved him, right now, with all his faults and flaws. He couldn’t say it — such was the nature of the Fallen — but love wasn’t about words. He could feel it in Crowley’s touch, hear it in his tone of voice, taste it in his kiss. And that was enough.
He treasured it so, that love, that trust that Crowley had shared with so few. It was Aziraphale he found worthy, Aziraphalehe gave them to, and Aziraphale would do anything to show they hadn’t been misplaced.
My best friend, Crowley had said; what could be more precious than that? A greater honor than Aziraphale had ever expected.
He just wished he could hear the words in a different tone of voice, one not laced with all-consuming pain and loss. Wished he could think of them without remembering how he’d sat there stupidly, a corporationless angel floating in a void, unable to offer any reassurance or comfort, unable to even let Crowley see his face. Useless, as he’d always been.
That, at least, ended today. He loved Crowley, he was with Crowley. Nothing would ever come between them again.
He wiped his eyes one last time and went to find Crowley’s surprise. And perhaps some biscuits for the road, one never knew when one’s…companion (even that word made him blush) might get hungry.
Read the rest on AO3!
Or read the whole series here!
As always with Sawdust of Words - mind the tags and CWs.
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“Why is there a-” she began, but Alya cut her off.
"Don't ask, don't look at it. Lila hasn't looked up yet, we're trying to keep it a secret," her friend replied, and the others all nodded.
Marinette stared at it again. "But it's so... who did it?"
Nino lifted his cap to scratch the top of his head before replacing it, a well known Nino thinking gesture. "I'm not sure, but I've checked everyone's alibis and... it might be Adrien."
Marinette turned to him sharply. "He'd never do that! And how would he reach up there anyway?"
"No idea. Just don't let Lila find out!"
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Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Thor, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, James Rhodes, Tiberius Stone
Additional Tags: Tony-centric, Angst, Past Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Like SERIOUS Trust Issues, Damn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Avengers, Avengers Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Fluff, Getting Together, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Pretty Much Everyone & Everyone Friendship, Sorry I'm Shit At Tagging, Canon Doesn't Exist Here We Die In This Pit Of Denial Like Real Men, Trust Issues, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Steve Fucks Shit Up Lmao RIP Tiberius, I need a nap
It was a pretty well-known fact that Tony Stark had control issues.
It was far less well-known why, though.
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Don’t Worry, This Isn’t Love by @bedalk (ao3 bedalko5)
Summary: Quỳnh hates Andy and that's perfectly fine because the feeling is very mutual. One hate fuck obviously won't change that.
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences | Words: 13338 - Chapters: 6 | Another Universe - Modern Setting
What i loved: the progression of the relathionship. The banter and the funny fights. How they start realising they like each other and they are in love. The love being present in the details of the little things. The softness in the moments they share.
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Snow on Palm Trees
by matan4il | getting together / fluff / angst / first kiss / | 1.1k | complete | teen
Summary: He's sitting on your living room couch, his jacket already put back on. He's about to leave. He's done his duty for the night, been a great friend to you and an amazing caregiver to your son, even though he has no official ties to Chris that would compel him to help. He gets to rest now, he's earned it. You should let him go have that. But there's something that stirs in you at the sight of him. He looks so good. No, it's more than that, he looks like he belongs here. It doesn't feel right for him to get up and walk out the door.
You want to say something, make some suggestion that will get him to stay. This space would be so empty without him.
But you don't really have anything to offer.
Buck has put his jacket back on after babysitting Chris in 408 and is ready for his departure. Eddie isn't.
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One of Harry’s favourite things is watching Malfoy work.
Rated: E, Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Words: 9,493
oooh, how I missed drarry and their dynamics!!!
this fic is the best drarry fic I have read in such a long time, if not ever… it’s so well written, the characters interactions, their jobs, their friendship, THE DETAILS!!!
can you believe the details this work of art has? omg, please go read it now!! and then you can thank me, for reccomending it to you, and thank @dreamdropxoxo for reccomending it to me 🤧🤧🤧🤧
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Where My Reckless Soul Takes Me by lissa_bear
[3179w | Not Rated (but probably Teen)]
Derek chooses not to look too hard at the reasons why his subconscious chooses to shove him in a room with Stiles every time he finds himself in a dire situation.
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We Pick Ourselves Undone by MaximumMarygold
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None of Marinette’s friends quite know how she hasn’t been hospitalised with Hanahaki disease due to her asteroid-sized crush on Adrien yet (though they are grateful for it) and nobody quite knows how Chat Noir hasn’t been, either, given his for Ladybug (which hasn't deterred him).
Nobody except for Plagg and Tikki, that is.
Jiang Cheng usually prides himself of being able to ignore his phone while he’s at work, but when it lights up with Nie Mingjue’s name on it, Jiang Cheng makes an exception.
His day is going badly enough already that he really desperately wants to hear Nie Mingjue, if even for a little bit.
“Mingjue,” he greets him as he accepts the call.
“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gives back warmly, and just hearing his voice makes some of the tension in Jiang Cheng’s shoulders disappear.
“What’s up?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You don’t usually call me during work.”
“I know,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the little frown on his face. “But I have to cancel tonight,” he then apologetically says and just like that Jiang Cheng’s good-ish mood plummets again.
“Oh, I see,” he whispers.
They have a weekly thing, where they go for a run first before they watch a movie and if Jiang Cheng is being honest, then he has to admit that it’s the highlight of his week.
And he was looking forward to it, especially today.
“I’m really sorry,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Some more deliveries at work came up, and I’ll have to make a special route after work to get it all done.”
“I understand,” Jiang Cheng says, because he does.
Nie Mingjue is one of the most hard-working people he knows and sometimes it just can’t be helped.
Jiang Cheng knows that very well, seeing as he himself is prone to working long past official office hours. Usually it’s Nie Mingjue to tell him to relax then, and so Jiang Cheng can’t help but to fall into the same role.
Even though he’s a lot gruffer about it than Nie Mingjue usually is.
“Just see to it that you don’t overwork yourself,” he grumbles out and is met with a light chuckle.
“I knew you cared,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and Jiang Cheng scoffs.
“Dream on,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “It’s just that if you overwork yourself, I don’t have a running buddy anymore, and what am I gonna do then.”
“You also won’t have a movie buddy anymore,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he’s right.
Not having a movie buddy might just be worse than not having a running buddy. Jiang Cheng is used to running on his own, and he will be fine if he has to do it again, but going back to watching movies on his own after having Nie Mingjue’s company for so long now, that would be considerably worse.
“So just take care of yourself,” Jiang Cheng snaps, completely on the defence as he realizes that Nie Mingjue knows him maybe a little bit too well and Nie Mingjue chuckles.
“I will give it my best. Same time next week, though?” he asks and Jiang Cheng nods before he can think twice about it.
“Of course,” he grumbles, because when did they ever not meet and he feels insulted that Nie Mingjue even has to ask.
“Thought so,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle. “Have a good week.”
“You, too,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out before Nie Mingjue hangs up on him.
They don’t usually text much during the week, apart from their regular confirmation that they are in fact still on for their running and movie meeting and Jiang Cheng is kind of glad about it.
He doesn’t know if he could survive being in constant contact with Nie Mingjue like that; running with him once a week and being overly aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue will be naked in the shower and then having to sit close to him on the couch is already enough of a strain on Jiang Cheng’s already fraying self-control.
When Jiang Cheng puts down the phone he lets out a deep sigh. He can’t say that he’s too sad about cancelling today, if he’s being honest. Work today has been shit so far and while he was looking forward to running and getting his aggressions out that way, he would much rather put on his sleeping clothes and curl up under a blanket to mindlessly watch a show or something instead of watching a whole movie.
And now he can do just that when he comes home.
It’s the only thought that gets him through the rest of the day if Jiang Cheng is being honest and when he finally makes his way home he feels weary and tired to the bone.
He still manages to drag himself under the shower but the tension only starts to seep out of his shoulders when he puts on his sleeping clothes—a frayed t-shirt and baggy sweatpants—and he curls up on the couch.
There’s a tiny part of himself that wishes Nie Mingjue were here right now, if only so Jiang Cheng doesn’t give into his self-pity for today, but if Nie Mingjue were here, he wouldn’t get to curl up like this, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be in his sleeping clothes yet, so Jiang Cheng is rather torn on the issue.
He can at least admit that his day seems off somehow, now that Nie Mingjue is not going to come over, but instead of dwelling too much on that, Jiang Cheng gets up to get some ice cream for himself.
It’s one of those days, and he intends to wallow in it.
Jiang Cheng just stuffed his mouth full of ice cream when someone knocks on his door.
Jiang Cheng freezes, totally caught off guard, and he has half a mind to simply pretend that he’s not home, when it knocks again. And again and again.
Jiang Cheng groans as he peels himself out of his blanket, looking mournfully at his ice cream before he puts it down on the table and then he makes his way over to the door.
“Cut it out already,” he seethes as he yanks open the door—already angry at whoever it is on the other side—only to freeze when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.
Nie Mingjue musters his face, before he very deliberately lets his eyes wander up and down Jiang Cheng’s form and Jiang Cheng would love nothing more than to disappear right that moment.
“I see you started without me,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile and Jiang Cheng fights the stupid urge to hide behind something and instead plasters a frown to his face. “And you’re cranky.”
“You said you couldn’t make it,” he snaps out, completely caught off guard and Nie Mingjue shrugs.
“Zonghui thinks I’m doing too much and I shouldn’t sacrifice one of the few evenings a month I take for myself so he took all the deliveries and told me to go home.”
“How nice of him,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say—because it is really nice of Nie Zonghui to do that—but he cannot deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue sees him in his ratty clothes.
Jiang Cheng is so much less put together than he likes to be; he’s wearing his oldest clothes, his hair is a half dried mess, and with Jiang Cheng’s luck there’s a chocolate smear on his cheek from the ice cream, he just knows it.
“Wait,” Jiang Cheng blurts out when Nie Mingjue’s words finally make it into his brain. “You decide to spend your evenings off with me,” he whispers out, suddenly horrified at himself that he takes up so much of Nie Mingjue’s time.
“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly unsure what has Jiang Cheng in such a panic.
“You should do something you want on those evenings!”
“I am,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and there’s so little hesitation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has no other choice but to believe him. “I want to spend them with you. Always,” Nie Mingjue tacks on rather awkwardly and Jiang Cheng goes bright red in the face, he can feel it burning.
“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks after a long moment in which Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.
“For this evening?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he can’t think clearly and surely Nie Mingjue isn’t implying what Jiang Cheng thinks he’s implying because that would mean he chooses very deliberately to see Jiang Cheng once a week even though he doesn’t have much time otherwise.
A very hysterical part of Jiang Cheng points out that maybe he should have thought about that earlier, but Jiang Cheng is in too much panic to listen to it.
“In general,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.
“For you to not judge me for this,” he finally says with a vague hand gesture at all of himself, because Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that even on the weekends Nie Mingjue takes off he is definitely more put together than Jiang Cheng is in that moment.
“I would never,” Nie Mingjue immediately tells him and then smiles at him, which makes Jiang Cheng’s pulse skyrocket. “I actually find it rather adorable,” Nie Mingjue then says mischievously and Jiang Cheng feels like his brain is shutting down.
“Shut up,” he weakly says but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem particularly fazed by that.
“I don’t think I will, actually,” Nie Mingjue says. “It makes you look very soft.”
Jiang Cheng blinks at him a few times because Nie Mingjue’s words don’t make any sense. There is no way in hell Nie Mingjue has any other feelings for him than some misplaced older brother protectiveness, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.
At least he had been until now.
“What do you want?” he asks again, though his voice comes out weak and breathy and Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft.
Nie Mingjue reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear and when Nie Mingjue cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his big palm a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back.
“I want to make you understand how loved you are,” Nie Mingjue whispers, matching his tone to Jiang Cheng’s and that does nothing to explain to Jiang Cheng just what he means with that. “If you would let me,” Nie Mingjue tacks on when Jiang Cheng stands frozen like a statue and then he exerts the faintest of pressure on Jiang Cheng’s cheek; just enough to pull him a little bit forwards.
Jiang Cheng is helpless to stop the movement, and he’s very sure he doesn’t actually want to stop anything that is happening right now and so he allows Nie Mingjue to guide him further and further towards Nie Mingjue’s broad chest.
“Will you let me?” Nie Mingjue asks, his breath ghosting over Jiang Cheng’s lips and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could find his voice if his life depended on it, so he simply leans forwards and closes the last tiny bit of distance between them.
Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he ever had a more perfect first kiss, but he guesses the answer to that is no. His eyes drifted shut on their own accord and his hands find a place at the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt, urging him closer.
Nie Mingjue keeps his one hand on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, but the other one migrates to the small of Jiang Cheng’s back and it’s so hot and so comfortingly heavy that Jiang Cheng has to bite back a groan at that.
“I can’t believe you just made us do that in the doorway,” Jiang Cheng complaints when they finally part, because he’s stupid and his brain doesn’t work right, but Nie Mingjue only chuckles.
Jiang Cheng can feel it in his own chest, they are standing so close, and he thinks he might never want to move ever again.
“You wouldn’t invite me in. I had to make do with what I had,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and then presses another fleeting kiss to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “But I wouldn’t complain if you were to invite me in.”
“Of course you’re going to come in,” Jiang Cheng bites out and uses his hands which are still fisted into the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt to pull him inside the apartment.
Once the door is closed behind them some nerves creep back in and Jiang Cheng awkwardly disentangles his hands from Nie Mingjue’s shirt.
“What do you want now?” Jiang Cheng asks and curses himself when he realizes that it came out completely wrong. He wanted to ask what Nie Mingjue wanted to do now, but not this.
“Are you saying you’re feeling loved yet?” Nie Mingjue says questioningly as he tilts his head in the single most adorable movement Jiang Cheng has ever seen.
“Not sure, actually,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Again, Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft and he tucks Jiang Cheng closer with a hand on his hip.
“I love you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with soft, fleeting butterfly kisses. “I love you very much,” he makes his point with a more passionate kiss this time and Jiang Cheng hums into it.
“I see,” he mutters, their lips still brushing against each other. “I feel loved,” Jiang Cheng then decides with a small nod. “And I love you, too,” he then says, because he didn’t yet and Nie Mingjue needs to know that.
“So I can move on to something else then,” Nie Mingjue muses and noses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, which totally doesn’t make Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak.
“Do you want anything else?” Jiang Cheng asks confidently, though he’s keeping upright more by clutching at Nie Mingjue’s shoulders than anything else.
“I want to make you happy,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment of deliberation and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.
“You’ll have to pick something else,” he tells Nie Mingjue who frowns at him, clearly unhappy with Jiang Cheng’s answer.
Jiang Cheng huffs out a little laugh and cups Nie Mingjue’s cheek in his hand.
“You already make me very happy,” he then tells him and watches as Nie Mingjue’s face lights up with his smile.
“I see,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “Then I want to keep you happy,” he immediately decides and Jiang Cheng swears he’s just doing that to kill him.
This is way too adorable.
“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng complaints, though it’s half-hearted at best and Nie Mingjue seems to know it too, because he doesn’t seem inclined to follow Jiang Cheng’s words.
“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue eventually asks him, and Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to find his words again.
“I want to continue this on the couch,” he finally decides and Nie Mingjue lets out a loud and happy laugh.
“Anything to keep you happy,” he decides and simply picks Jiang Cheng up, before he carries him over to the living-room.
Jiang Cheng yelps when his feet leave the ground, but Nie Mingjue’s grip on him is sure and strong and so instead of struggling Jiang Cheng slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and simply holds on.
It’s not long before Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, Jiang Cheng now firmly in his lap and Jiang Cheng immediately leans up to get back to kissing. Nie Mingjue is quick to indulge him and Jiang Cheng already knows that this will be one of his favourite things to do.
By the time they remember the ice cream on the table it has long turned into soup, and so they refreeze it on their way to the bedroom.
It is still tasty when they have it for breakfast the next morning.
Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!
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And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene
Summary: Wei Wuxian reunites with Lan Wangji after a year of travelling, pleased to be a part of Lan Wangji's life again, but he refuses to examine and test the borders of their relationship. When Lan Wangji invites him to investigate a mysterious string of suicides together, Wei Wuxian happily accepts, but the case is not what it seems, and Wei Wuxian will be forced to face the feelings he's been denying for a very long time.
Tags: getting together, pining, angst with happy ending, descriptions of violence.
Notes: I love Spodumene’s fic because of their brilliant talent for writing characters and dialogue. Their descriptions of nature are languid, and the actions scenes are fast paced. The relationship is unearthed slowly, but it blossoms and unfurls throughout the fic. Truly, gorgeous work.
Read it here.
Wei Wuxian died twice.
[Do remember to give the author kudos, comments, and share this fic with your friends!]
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I Need A Bad Idea
Summary: Once Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji started living together and Nie Mingjue moved in with Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng decided that it would better if they started living together too since they pratically lived together anyways. Now, they were roommates! And problems seemed to appear everytime they blinked! Problem? Nie Huaisang liked his best friend and had no courage to say it. Another problem? Jiang Cheng was in the same situation. Want another one? Here is it! They have to go the Jiang's Annual Dinner. Wait, there's more! They have to fake dating because it's obligatory to go with a partner and everyone already thinks they were dating.
Deep, deep sigh, from all the problems coming their way, the easiest one to solve was Nie Mingjue's strees eating.
Shit, they were fucked.
So this a SangCheng one-shot that I was writing and indeed to post here on Tumblr, but since it got too long (like 20 pages) and didn't actually finished it yet (just some parts on the end need editing) I decided to post it on AO3 while I finish it and to be better for reading. It has that good and old friends to lovers, OMG they're roommates, fake dating and mutual pinning because I'm predictable like that. Once I'm done editing, I will post it here in one post and let you guys know. By then, I will keep posting the links to the chapters.
That being said, have a good day/afternoon/night!
With love, Macca!
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what about an au where they meet at the gym?? I think I'd die if I saw that one aksjdfhgdjs I love you
"I hate you," Sirius said.
"As you've said. Many times. On the way here, alone," Regulus said. "Shouldn't you wait until after we've exercised to start whinging?"
"I'm saving myself time. Afterwards, I'll be too weak to put up a good complaint, so I have to get it in now."
"Not once in your life have you been too weak to complain, and I doubt you're going to start now."
"You never know. This is a new low for me. I'm sure I'll reach points I've never before explored."
"I can only hope," Regulus muttered, not low enough to actually stop Sirius from hearing him. They got to the gym, and Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and generally pretended like he couldn't see any of the people that gave him appreciative looks as they passed by; he had a lifetime of experience in that, at least.
"Is that your- erm, boyfriend accompanying you?" the employee asked uncomfortably.
"I am quite obviously his brother," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh," the employee said, mood picking up. They tapped at the computer then slid Regulus's membership card back to him.
"You look like me but with shorter hair," Sirius said when they walked away. "How the hell do people make this mistake all the time?"
"Because you look so fucking bent, that's why."
"Oh right, like you're innocent in all this."
"I don't look as queer as you do," Regulus said. "I passed as straight for years."
"You weren't half as passing as you thought. Trust me."
"Our parents never found out," Regulus said, affronted that Sirius thought he hadn't gotten away with it. "None of my friends at Hogwarts knew."
"Did they not know, or did they just not say anything? Because those are two different things."
"Is it really so important to you that you're right?" Regulus asked, giving Sirius a dirty look.
"It's always important to me that I'm right."
"This is why we never got along."
Sirius stuck his tongue out at him.
"Also that. Remind me why we're friends now?"
"Because we don't like other people," Sirius said. It was, unfortunately, true. Shared trauma wasn't fun, but at least they understood each other. New people they met just didn't get it the way that Sirius needed for them to if he was going to have an easy conversation with them.
There was only so long that Sirius could talk to try and get out of exercising, and unfortunately, Regulus saw right through him. He hadn't been fooled for a moment, which was a pain in the arse.
"I hate you," Sirius said.
"I know," Regulus said.
For once, Sirius was willing to admit that Regulus was the more attractive sibling. The flush on Regulus's face made him look healthy and happy, whereas Sirius looked like he was sick. Felt sick too, not that his dearest brother cared.
"I'm your only brother," Regulus said, rolling his eyes.
"You are still my dearest one. And you don't care," Sirius said with a huff, throwing his arms over Regulus petulantly. "You torture me for hours and for what?"
"It was like forty minutes," he replied.
They started to leave-- finally!-- but then Sirius saw something that made him pause. "Ooo, smoothies. I'm getting a smoothie."
"Since when do you like smoothies?"
"Since the age of, like, fourteen. Strawberry, I think. Changed my life. I'm getting one, do you want one?"
"No, I have shite to do. I thought you said you do too?"
"Oh no no no," Sirius said, hauling Regulus back towards him and making his way to the smoothie line. "You don't have plans for another two hours you lying little prick. You made me get on a sodding treadmill, and now I am making you get a smoothie and like it."
"Why would I have to like it? You didn't have to like it."
"You wanted me to like it," Sirius argued.
Somehow, Sirius got roped into going back to the gym. He was bribed with smoothies, which wasn't a very good bribe, but he also didn't have anything better to do. Nothing better to do than suffer, which he knew wasn't quite right, but it didn't stop him from going.
He'd been forced into these gym visits with Regulus for about a month straight when one time, Regulus just didn't show up. It didn't occur to Sirius that he could leave until after he'd already started exercising, and it's not like he was going to leave right after he started.
No one talked to Sirius the entire time, and he was perfectly happy with that. When he was making jokes with Regulus, people thought he was approachable. On his own, he apparently did not give of the same energy.
"You've got good form," someone said as he was getting off the treadmill and wondering if he could kill Regulus for manipulating him like this.
Sirius held back a sigh. He'd almost made it all the way in and out of the gym without having to talk to anyone, which was how he liked it. "I wouldn't know," he said flatly. Then, as he was grabbing his water, he caught sight of the man who'd said it, and he wished that his reply had been a bit nicer. He was used to blowing off people, okay? He hadn't known that today would be the day he saw someone that handsome. He was ill-prepared to deal with it. He comforted himself with the knowledge that a man who clearly worked out as much as him would only want to date someone that also liked to exercise-- a group that Sirius was certainly not a part of. "Erm. I mean. My brother usually drags me here so he doesn't feel as miserable. So I er, don't really know what I'm doing."
"Where is he? Your brother."
"Bailed on me today, and I figured if I was already here, I might as well," Sirius said with a vague gesture at the machine. "My name's Sirius, by the way. Like the star, not the mood."
"My name's James. That's all I've got," he said with a grin.
"I suppose since your parents blessed you with such a wonderful smile they didn't owe you an interesting name."
"Well that's hardly fair, since you have good looks and an interesting name. What do your parents have that mine don't?"
"A lack of impulse control, I'd wager."
"You do have good form, by the way. I didn't bring that up just as an excuse to flirt with you."
"Again, I have no idea what that means."
James's smile widened like he found Sirius's ignorance endearing. "We could get a cup of coffee together and see if I can explain it to you?"
"I don't drink coffee, actually, but you are more than welcome to join me at the smoothie bar."
"Sounds good," James said.
Sirius guessed he could put off murdering Regulus. For a little bit.
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Look, @all-hail-the-witcher look, all nice and fluff and kindness!!
what’s this?! two ficlets in one day?! It turns out I’m bad at being evil and had to do another fic to make up for it xDD It is not even read through, I just want it up, because yes. Enjoy <3 On Ao3 here
Geralt/Eskel learning feelings at Kaer Morhen!
The wonders of being loved. Geralt has always wondered about it, watching Jaskier fall in and out of love every other week. He wonders what it would feel like, to be loved like that.
He doesn’t ask Jaskier about it, of course he doesn’t. That would be silly and embarrassing. But he can’t find it in himself to let it go.
So these thoughts he carries with him, through the passes and the valleys on his way towards Kaer Morhen. He did invite the bard, but he was much too busy falling in love with some lady or other. He meets Lambert by the gate, and greets him with a big hug and a clap on the back. They trade insults on the way to the stables, and when he opens the door and finds Eskel caring for his horse Scorpion, a jolt of excitement shoots through his entire body.
Eskels face breaks into a smile, and as soon as Roach has been put in a stall he pulls him into a hug. Both arms wrapped around his body, chests tightly pressed together.
Eskel should know, he knows so many things. Geralt decides to ask him after dinner, when Lambert isn’t there to tease him.
Eskel pulls back and claps a hand on his shoulder, eyes gentle despite the ragged scars running down his face.
They chatter about their year as they put the horses in order. Lambert slinks of, bored with their ‘old man talk’ and leaves just the two of them alone.
“I’ve missed you.” Eskel says, hanging on the edge of the stall looking at Geralt. A rush of warmth explodes in his chest.
“I’ve missed you too.” Geralt says, feeling strangely embarrassed by it. “I’m glad we made it another year.”
Such is their routine. Settle in, celebrate another year alive, carry on.
The keep in winter is a lot of work, especially in the state it is in now. After that first night or two of reunion, there is wood to chop, deer to hunt, decoctions to brew. Documentation and studying too, if Vesemir ever catches them idle.
After dinner, just before bedtime, Geralt can’t hold it in anymore. He sneaks off to Eskels room, just a few doors down from his own. He is all nerves when he approaches, but not really understanding why.
Eskel opens the door before Geralt can knock. He could probably hear his anxious heartbeat long before he even came close, and he gives a crooked smile.
“Something on your mind?” Eskel guesses and Geralt nods. His tongue seems to have gotten stuck to the roof of his mouth, because Eskel is looking so soft in his sleeping tunic.
Eskel lets him inside, and Geralt takes a seat on the chair next to his working table when Eskel sits down on the bed. Now that he is actually here, he is not sure how to ask it.
“Do you know what it is like to be loved?” He asks hesitantly. Eskel looks surprised and tilts his head and frowns.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“I mean, Jaskier feels things so intensely. I have seen how happy they look, and I just don’t know what it feels like.” Geralt explains, looking down at his fiddling hands. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“You don’t?” He can’t look at Eskel, for some reason his fight or flight instinct is triggered. He shakes his head and shrugs, not sure how to explain himself properly.
When Eskel stands up from the bed, Geralt has to look at him though. His brow is still furrowed, and he is holding out a hand.
Geralt does, he stands up and there is a crackling sensation under his skin when his hand touches Eskels. Curious.
“Do you want to know?” the scarred witcher asks, taking a step closer. Gerald nods hesitantly and feels like he is missing something important.
Eskel laces their fingers together slowly, gently. Both of their hands are dry, rough, callused and scarred. They fit good together, Geralt thinks, and push that thought right out of his head.
Just as slowly as their fingers fit together, Eskel lifts their hands to his mouth. He looks Geralt in the eyes and presses a kiss to the back of his hand, lips lingering.
Warm. Geralt feels warm.
“I feel loved sometimes.” Eskel tells him quietly, lips moving against his hand. “When you look at me like this.” Eskel takes another step forward, rearranging their hands so that he can press Geralt's palm to his chest, right over his heart.
“When you smile at me, my heart is working as hard as if I'm fighting a bruxa. When you came here tonight, all I wanted to do is hold you close.”
Geralt can’t process. He is busy feeling Eskels chest under his hand, his pulse a fast but steady beat under his palm, his own pulse racing in response.
Is this it?
Geralt looks up into Eskels kind, amber eyes, so much like his own. Eskels frown eases and a soft smile takes its place. With his other hand he pulls Geralt's hair behind his ear, and lets his hand rest against Geralt's neck, just under his ear.
“That is what it’s like to feel loved?” Geralt asks, unbelieving. Eskel nods. “I make you feel like that?”
“You do.” Eskel confirms, his pulse spiking with the words. Geralt opens his mouth and draws in a ragged breath.
“You still can.” He ventures. “Hold me, that is.”
The sound Eskel makes, something in between a grunt and a whine, when he pulls Geralt to his chest and buries his nose in his neck. Geralt returns the hug eagerly, pressing in as close as he can.
They are about the same height, but Eskel is so much wider than him. Bulky, with a soft layer on top. They don’t usually hug without their armor on, hell, they usually don’t hug at all.
It feels intimate, and Geralt finally is starting to understand why Jaskier is so gods fucking clingy. Geralt might turn clingy too, if this is what it feels like.
“Will you stay?” Eskel asks, nuzzling closer still.
There is no way Geralt can leave now. If this is what it feels like, if this is what he makes Eskel feel too, there is nothing that can make him leave.
They cuddle up in Eskels bed together. It is narrow, made for only the one witcher. It makes it all the better when they fit together, limbs tangled in each other, gentle kisses pressed onto foreheads.
“I love you.” Geralt says into the darkness of the room. It feels right.
“I love you too.” Eskel smiles, and the wonders of being loved is a remarkable thing.
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Gabriel Agreste decides to meddle when he notices that Marinette Dupain-Cheng's affections have transferred from Adrien to Luka Couffaine. Naturally, the bulk of his plan falls during the week before Fashion Week. Adrien is significantly more interested in stealing Nathalie's Coffee of Death than in engaging in a romantic relationship.
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Help Me Hold On To You
the @theyarnmaidstale | getting together / 5+1 things / first kiss / angst / | 10.8k | completed | teen
Summary: Hotel mix-ups happen. Buck knows this. Mistakes get made. Certain firefighters named Eddie Diaz forget to make a reservation and they're left with whatever the hotel has available when they walk in requesting a two-bed room when all that's left is a single queen-sized.
So, no, he doesn't think the hotel gods are conspiring against him and his fragile facade that his feelings toward Eddie are wholly friendly.
But they sure have been testing him lately.
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renga | incomplete | 6.3k+ words
“Do you ever just feel totally lost?” Langa asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Reki laughed. “All the time.”
Picking up where the series leaves off, Langa and Reki try to navigate the early phases of adulthood together. They soon learn that parents and teachers can only prepare you so much, and just like learning to skate, there are a lot of hard falls before you find your way through.
A story about growing up, finding your happiness, and loving your best friend no matter what.
super promising so far. excellent characterization and does really well capturing the “well what the fuck do we do now” stage of youth. can’t wait to read more
there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?)
renga | incomplete | 32.4k+ words
Snowboarding feels bleak, meaningless and it’s the last thing Langa wants to think about now.
Everything changes, however, when Reki enters his cold world and Langa, in spite of himself, offers to teach him how to snowboard.
(Or, Langa is a pro-snowboarder, who’s dealing with grief, and Reki has just moved to Canada, carrying deep homesickness with himself. Together, they help each other heal their wounds.)
nice role reversal au, and i love the character studies and exploration of grief/living with loss. great so far, can’t wait to read more
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I've Got A Piece of Your Heart (But I Want the Whole Damn Thing)
renga | complete, multi chapter | 29.9k words
“Sure?” Langa doesn’t like the way Reki is looking at him without meeting his gaze. “Of course I’ll help you, Reki. What’s up?”
It takes a long second for Reki to answer. When he finally does, Langa feels the world slow to a stop around them. “Well, the thing is... my soulmate is always writing on their arm. But they’re always writing in English, so I don’t know what it says. I was hoping you might translate it for me?”
Reki asks Langa to translate the English writing of his soulmate and is left to wonder why, exactly, Langa turns so incredibly red as he does exactly that.
(The soulmate au nobody asked me for)
very very nice soulmate au. classic mutual-pining-but-they-think-it’s-unreciprocated-and-they-can’t-be-together trope. also that sweet sweet angst sometimes