Toshinori's an omega, but he didn't choose it. He focuses on what he did choose - All Might - and endures the rest. A heat accidentally spent with Aizawa results in an embryo, some hard truths about the things he's been ignoring, and new hope.

If the only future path you saw was to remove a specific slice of traumatic, horrific memory from the mind of your successor, would you do it? Nana did. Yagi Toshinori lived with what he had lost, though with unease he couldn't explain. Enter Aizawa Shouta wanting more from their relationship than routines steered by unexplained fears. No-one is above reproach and it's never too late.

Shouta's never squirted before. When Hizashi, an instructional adult content creator, finds this information out, offers to help change that via a demonstrations video for his audience.

On a border world caught between the Sith and Mandalorian Empires, Mace and his padawan seek a vanished Council member. They aren't the only ones looking for something lost, though, and Jaster Mereel is a force all his own - one Mace is hard-pressed to resist.

“Can't kriffing believe he sent a Naboo to kriffing Tatooine,” Owen says, too loud, but—they're in the middle of the wilderness. There's no one who’s going to hear him except the Force, and if it does hear him, he hopes it turns around and beats some light-bedamned sense into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s skull. In his lap, fully entranced by the corner of the blanket Owen has him bundled in, Luke coos, beams, and flips his tail. The fancy, flowing, colorful fins slap Owen’s thigh, and he sighs, tugs the bottom of the wrap down to hide as much as he can.

"It's not like any of my exes ever said 'let's fuck or I'm leaving you' but...yeah. It's a factor." "You just didn't want to sleep with any of them?" "I wanted to. Or wanted to want to, I guess." *** The impact left by Hizashi's ex-boyfriend still looms, too big and too much, so he asks Shouta for a favor.

Mission: What If? Fated Lovers On Another Planet has successfully been activated! This is Shang Qinghua's fault.

"The game is over, Uncle," Jace spoke calmly as Aegon froze in Arryk's hold. "I'm bringing you back home." Aegon fought back against fear and rage both, the emotions tightening his throat. "Y-You don't have to do this nephew," he pleaded, and he couldn't even bring himself to hate how weak he sounded. He didn't care. All that mattered was that he escaped. "Just let me go! You can find another to marry, someone more suited, I-I'm not-I wouldn't begrudge you! Please, just tell them I'm dead, or that you couldn't find me, Rhaenyra didn't even truly want this..." Jacaerys' steely features softened and he walked forward to where Aegon was still held by Sers Arryk and Erryk. "Why should I search for another when you are right in front of me?" Jace reached out to hold his uncle's chin, "and you have a duty to fulfill." Aegon attempted to look away but the king tilted his head up, forcing him to meet his dark gaze. "I want an heir."

An uncomfortable family supper takes a turn for the worse after a secret is exposed. The King believes a hasty marriage can hold the family together, but how can that sustain peace when one of the grooms hates the other? “When were you going to announce that your second son is an omega?”

"He doesn’t feel jealous. He’s happy for them, truly. He doesn’t want to replace Mal, or be him, because that would imply… no Mal. If anything, he wants to be there. With Alina. With Mal. “Oh,” Nikolai lets out, blinking. If any of the guards heard him, they say nothing, know it’s not any of their business if the king has just had some kind of epiphany. He shakes his head at himself because of course, of course he wouldn’t fall in love with just one person. If Dominik could see him now, he would roll his eyes and tell him, “really, you didn’t figure it out before? You gave him your compass, didn’t you?”"

There are plenty of fabricated stories about Dirtyhands and the Wraith. Kaz and Inej don't mind making up a few more. Five times Kaz and Inej lie about how they met, and one time they don't.

Hawks-- no, Keigo. He's Keigo at this point. He's not a hero. He is a single father, and he is fucking terrified. He's on his fucking knees in front of the League of Villains and begging, like he has no shame, because at this point he doesn’t, for them to help him. He's got his little girl, his daughter, bundled tightly to his chest, his too big headphones over her ears, as he trembles and tries to cry and can't because of his goddamn quirk. Keigo decides to get his daughter away from the Commission, by any means necessary. In the end, it goes better than he expected.

This is so not Hawks's day. Rumi is getting antsy with his stalling, frowning as the faint light that filters up to them puts a gleam in her eye. Hawks needs a plan fast, and one that will convince the League he's at least tried to play their side when they inevitably show up to see him and Rumi wrecking the absolute shit out of their pet monster. "Okay," Hawks says, "This is gonna sound real weird, but I need you to punch me in the face. It's for - " CRACK!

Jamie’s not gonna lie, it throws him a little when he realizes Trevor is gay.

Auston would never have thought of going to the ballet on his own.

Stone was a solid weight, a shield for the Guard as much as he was able, built from the stone that he was named after. And if he didn’t have that, what did he have, in the end?

The Jedi do the utmost to support the clone troopers who fight alongside them. Even the ones who like to cause problems on purpose. (In which Sergeant No of the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps has a funky alien gender and tests Commander Neyo's patience.)

Fox looks in the mirror as he washes his hands, and there’s a lurch deep in his gut. He doesn’t know why. It’s his own face staring back at him, hair regulation-short, a bit of scruff around his jaw, a few grizzly scars. He runs his hand across his chin. It feels like someone else’s. He looks away.

Fox was fine, most days. He went on patrols, chipped away at the mountain of datawork in his office, delicately soothed the egos of ruffled Senators. (Helped the medics forge decommissioning certificates. Went on missions for the Chancellor that left him shaking apart in the sonic.) And on the days that Fox wasn’t fine, they had a system.

While exploring the back hallways of Kamino, Cadet Fox discovers a treasure.

As a rule, Commander Fox avoided direct contact with the Guard's shinies. It was better not to know them, to let them see her as the intimidating Marshal Commander and let her reputation as a hard-ass scare them into following the rules and regulations that would keep them safe. But when she stumbled across a shiny in need of some comfort, Fox did her best to provide.

Fox was no stranger to being used as a subject for Palpatine's experiments and Sith rituals. But when Palpatine decided to test out a mysterious artifact on Fox, the results were beyond what anyone could have anticipated.

When Thorn convinced Fox to start playing his favorite MMO, Fox expected to get bored of it after a few days. Instead, months later, Fox was deeply invested in the catgirl character he'd created, and it might just make him realize some things about himself.

Sometime between the end of the war and when Fox got shot, Coruscant Guard CMO Basher got their hands on the good drugs. That was the only explanation, really. Someone (Thorn) also made the mistake of giving Fox a datapad.

Incubus - a male demon who feeds off of sexual intercourse with humans. Kaminari hasn’t been able to get the word out of his head all day. Not since he learned it at 11:28 am in his mythology and demonology class, anyway. To him, it sounds a whole lot like an opportunity. Kaminari Denki is hella tired of being a virgin, so he summons a demon to help him out. But maybe he should be more careful with what he wishes for - he's going to be absolutely ruined for humans after this.

Growing up Quirkless in today's society leaves its scars. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. This is a story of Aizawa Shouta finding and treating these scars and doing his best to keep the world from scarring his student further.

Sanji describes his time on Momorio Island as "hell". Despite what he lets his crewmates believe it has nothing to do with the lack of ladies. He spent two years either fleeing or fighting. He did not come away unscarred and did not have a fun adventure. An attempt at a canon compliant explanation for Sanji's reactions without just being a prejudiced jerk. Lots of trauma and internal narrative.

Sanji hears the explosion in the early evening. It's not very close — somewhere on the island, for sure, but not close enough to shake the house itself. He tilts his head towards it, pauses for a moment from slicing scallions, but doesn't pay it much more mind than that. Things explode all the time, around Big Mom and her family. So long as they're nowhere near him or anything important to him, Sanji does his best not to think about it. That's not his place. It becomes his problem when, five minutes later, Pudding shoulders open the door to his rooms, anger licking off her like flames. Sanji carefully places his knife to the side and turns to face her. She crowds him against the counter, glaring. "Did you know about this?" she demands in a hiss, leaning forward. “Are you in on whatever hairbrained scheme they're trying to pull off right now? Do you have fucking contact with them?" In a slightly different world, Sanji is made even more his mother's son.

Sanji and Zoro share a drink together, but their conversation heads into dangerous territory. Eventually a bet is made, and Sanji has to wonder if it's worth it.

Everyone wants to marry Zoro. Hypothetically. Sanji can’t believe everyone would pick that useless patch of growing mold over him, and considers killing Zoro. Not hypothetically. He has a list on why Zoro would be the Worst Husband Ever, not that he spends a lot of time thinking of a (purely hypothetical!) situation where he is married to Zoro, fuck you very much. (a.k.a, the one where Usopp invented Fuck, Marry, Kill.)

“Luffy,” his mother says, passing on a name and a blessing all at once. “Oh, my Luffy… You are going to be so loved, I just know it.” She dies with a whisper and a smile on her face. Luffy, only a few minutes old, scrunches up his impossibly tiny little face and begins to cry. And then, like magic, seven other newborns scattered all throughout the seas did exactly the same. (A One Piece/Sense 8 fusion)

As the Strawhat crew comes to find, their newest member, Sanji, flirts with anyone that breathes and walks on two legs... with the notable exception of Zoro, which the rest of the crew finds hilarious. The impossible thing, though; his flirting actually works. In which Sanji has game and really sluts up the place and Zoro is Not Amused.

Curly-Brow hisses, “What, exactly, am I supposed to have them do?” The guy looks at Zoro and adds, “Amputation via sword?” “Clerical, scribing, changing bedpans? The world’s your fuckin’ oyster and they,” Dr. Old Man thrusts a wrinkled thumb at them, “are your fuckin’ problem now.” Luffy takes this moment to wave and bound right up to the nurse with a chirp of, “Hi! I’m Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna’ be the Pirate King. Sorry about your roof.” The nurse stares at Luffy for a solid five seconds, unblinking. Nami whispers despairingly, “Oh my fucking gods.” The nurse turns back to Dr. Old Man and asks, “Am I allowed to submit this one for a psych eval?” -- In which Sanji is the crew's doctor and not their cook. This changes remarkably little.

It’s said that soulmate marks are gifts from the gods. Certainly, more than this has been said but, well. Luffy’s never really been one for gods or any of that stuff. Those stories are always so boring and long-winded.

Sanji sees Zoro approach from a long-ways off. His shock of green hair is unmistakable, even in a crowd. Speaking of, the crowd parts around him naturally, like water around a boat. They give him suspicious looks as he passes, and it isn’t until Zoro is within eye-shot that Sanji realizes why. There is a bundle of feathers in his arms. “What the fuck are you holding?” Zoro winces and pulls a face. “Yeah, so, I can explain." The bundle of feathers moves and the dirt-streaked face of a child peers up at him. The jumble of feathers aren’t just feathers, Sanji realizes with a jolt. They’re wings.

"You'll get yourself hurt," Aizawa says flatly, "or worse. I won't let you leave." "You can't stop me," All Might says, and turns to leave. Watch me, Aizawa thinks, and flicks his wrist toward him.

Before the training camp attack—before the dorms and the close quarters and the security measures and the curfew and the living-in-his-classmates-back-pockets... Bakugou notices something. Todoroki Shouto is fucking weird. In which Bakugou plays at being an amateur detective and teams up with Izuku to completely fuck up Endeavor's whole damn day (and possibly his entire life, too.)

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else. In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

Around ten in the morning, Nami signals that they’re approaching an island. At noon, the Thousand Sunny docks in a bay full of white sand and sunflowers with rusty yellow petals. At one, it’s safe to say all the Strawhats have scattered around the island on various errands or explorations. By two in the afternoon, everything changes. "Luffy?" He speaks without speaking. "Sanji?" Luffy answers without answering. "What the fuck—", Zoro curses without cursing, and suddenly all three of them—all /one/ of them—is knocked flat on their ass on the ground.

They’d arrived at the island of Mae to catch the end of a brutal, bloody conflict between the island natives and a band of thugs from further inland. After helpfully settling the conflict, the townspeople of Mae offer to throw the Strawhats an island-wide party complete with food, dancing, music and free credit at the best brothel their town has to offer. Wherein Sanji smokes a questionable substance prepared by a local devil-fruit user and gets a little bit hornier (and a little bit looser with his inhibitions) than he ever intended to be around a certain swordsman.

“I am not a pretty thing,” Zoro tells him, scratching at her freshly shaved neck. Uneven strands of green hair, just long enough to barely brush the tips of her eyebrows, flop wet and graceless into her face as she turns to scowl at him. “And even if I were a pretty thing,” she adds, “I wouldn’t be yours. I wouldn’t be anyone’s, Cook.” Roronoa Zoro swore an oath that she would become nothing less than the greatest. The fact that she is a woman changes nothing.

“I would almost say you look attractive like this if it wouldn’t be unfathomably disgusting and also a betrayal of everything I stand for as a human being,” Perona had told Zoro one night as she showed him a variety of tricks for untangling stubborn, sweaty hair. Zoro kinda wishes he would have listened to her, for just a single fucking moment. Maybe if he had, he would have been able to prepare himself for the level of weirdness that’s happening right now. (In which Zoro has long hair and certain people develop feelings about it.)

“Two boys can have sex, too?” Luffy grins as he says it, like this is a normal conversation. “No,” Sanji hisses vehemently at the same time that Zoro says “Yup,” grinning at Sanji with way too much teeth and seriously--who smiles like that? Luffy laughs and slaps a hand down on one of Zoro’s shoulders, leaning in. “Hey! Let’s have sex, then!”

The fight is brief and unsatisfying. The whole thing takes no more than five minutes and no more than two swords. They still hum for blood as Zoro sheathes them and faces the gang's growling, pissed off boss. “Fine,” the man shouts. “We’ll take you then, huh? Plenty of folks will pay to bring a big man down low,” he says nonsensically. “What—” A sharp pain in his ankle cuts him off. A downed man pulls a needle out of Zoro's skin.

“So, we’re gonna play it like that, huh, Cook?” “Oh yeah. We’re gonna play it like that,” Sanji returns, despite having absolutely no fucking clue what Zoro could possibly mean by that. --- Or: The Great Game of Gay Chicken Aboard the Thousand Sunny

Most days, Sanji considers himself a bundle of neuroses at best. He smokes a reasonable amount to distract himself from the anxious urge to play with his hair or bite at his nails or chew his lips, he wears layers and suits to avoid direct skin-to-skin contact he isn’t prepared for, and most importantly, he never ever looks at his back in the mirror. Usually these things work to keep him intact, to keep him here and sane and passably whole. But some days, they don’t. And that’s when Sanji needs it. Namely—the sex.

“Luffy.” “Yeah?” “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.” Fear. The smell of it, the sound of it. Luffy’s never felt fear like this come from Sanji before. He hates it. “He’s real. And I think he’s you,” Luffy says. __ A reunion. A camping trip on an uninhabited island. A question. And a gift, or perhaps, an answer. Wherein a Sanji straight from the dungeons of Germa appears in their midst and no one, least of all Sanji, knows what to do about it.

Nami has practically lived with Zoro since their freshman year of undergrad. In all that time, she's never seen him bring anyone home.

It’s like a high when the both of them resonate on that same frequency—two radios spitting static at each other ninety-percent of the time until they find overlap for one, just one, perfectly-played song. The music is brilliant and vibrant when it’s playing. It’s always over faster than Sanji ever wants it to be.

Believe it or not, Obi-Wan Kenobi had a rebellious phase. It just so happened that, once acquired, he never really grew out of it. -- In which Obi-Wan is a hobbyist exotic dancer. (And is really rather good at it, too.)