There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey.

Written for the Free! Kink Meme: "maybe rei starts helping rin study for a certain subject that he's bad at, rin helps rei with clothes-shopping, and it eventually escalates to rin teaching rei how to kiss and then they make out and possibly do other sexy things, and it probably takes them both a while to realize that they have totally been dating this whole time."

In which Dirk has hell of computer issues/plays matchmaker, Calliope is revealed to be a big ol' pervert, and it's implied that the future of entertainment is a heavily edited version of an incredibly shitty fanfiction featuring hot unicorn on wizard action/violence. Also there's animes.

AU in which everything's the same except Luffy's a selkie. “What does the future Pirate King want with me?” Zoro deadpans at the skyline of blues above, humouring the sunlight-wielding, ocean-wearing oddity of a man before him. Luffy throws his arms wide and snickers a reply. “To get married of course!”

He had died- honorably, he'd like to think, despite living as a villain and an assassin for over half a century- and that, as far as Xanxus had ever figured, would be the end of that. No heaven. No hell. Just life when you were breathing and nothingness when you stopped. Except that it didn't, quite, turn out that way. Except he came back as the son of the kindest, sometimes saddest father in the world. In both worlds. A father that he knew, without a doubt, to be his flesh and blood. All at once, Xanxus had everything he'd wanted as a child. A home. A family. Stability. And he was going to fight like hell and beat down anyone who tried to take it from him, no matter what his age. (In which Sakumo raises a son who speaks multiple languages from birth, all of them gibberish to the poor single father jounin, spits vulgarity with the same ease as he does his praise and burns with an unshakable determination to build himself a family that will not fall, no matter who or what is thrown against it.)

Zoro asks Sanji out for some private time just outside of town, and a night that begins suggestive and taunting follows a road less travelled into a sentimental territory that lies uncharted. Written for ZoSan month. Smut one shot.

He was completely unfazed by Ryuji’s doubt. “I can be very charming,” Akira assured him magnanimously. “I’ll have you know I’m a man of many talents. I’m sure any number of my skills will help me win him over.” Ryuji raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. “‘Talents?’ What, you mean like breaking and entering, assault, and hostage negotiation?” A blank, glasses-blocked stare. “You don’t think those will help?”

“It’s just not manly to leave your bro like this, after knowing he can’t do anything about it, you know?” Kirishima blabbers some kind of bullshit excuse, and the worst part is that it looks like he’s totally convinced of it. “It’s just a— handjob,” he stumbles over the word, the weight of what he’s proposing hitting him all at once, but he doesn’t stop. “—but if you're not into it we can pretend I didn't just say that.” Bakugou has to restrain himself from saying that he’s very much into it. Like, a lot, really. a.k.a Kirishima learns the reason behind Bakugou's grumpiest days, and he offers to help because that's what best bros do.

the stories of the August 8th cluster and their children in all forms.

That soulbonding fic where Kageyama jabs Hinata with the scratchy skin on his elbow, and they're Tangled for good—sharing thoughts and feelings. They can't stop touching for long without headaches and itchy clammy skin. Only... they're both so brutally focused on volleyball, neither of them notices anything is different. Hinata figures everything is fine since, even if he wakes up feverish, he always feels better at practice—every time. It takes Kenma pointing out how much they touch for Hinata to realize he has a problem. If Kageyama doesn't return his feelings, Hinata could lose his tosses for good.

MDZS ships, and a headcanon for each one

When Wangxian decide they can't even wait a day to get married Jiang Cheng is faced with attempting the impossible: planning a wedding in a matter of hours. - “Uh, um, hi, Jiang Cheng, we were just, um, we have to go, it’s really important—” And he actually tried to sneak past him, Lan Zhan’s wrist caught in his hand as he was willingly dragged along. “So you’re getting married, huh?” Jiang Cheng said, his voice poisonously sweet. Wei Ying flinched guiltily. “You’re on your way to the courthouse now? How nice. Hey, just quickly before you go Wei Ying, do you remember what I said I’d do to the next man to make a-jie cry?” “...you’d...you’d pull his—” “I’d pull his spine out through his dick, yes.”

It's been months since Jiang Cheng has last seen his lovers. To make up for it, he comes to Qinghe bearing a gift.

Crumpled at the base of Koi Tower’s long stairs for the second time, Jin Guangyao presses his face into the stone, takes a deep breath despite re-broken ribs, and arranges his features as carefully as he knows how. Then he stands, moving carefully around the pain, and bows deep, arms held straight and true. The walk back up the steps to his father's side is painful enough to wipe the smile from his face; it is not painful enough to prevent him re-taking his place as seneschal, bowing again at the top of the steps. As he straightens, he prioritizes his plans for his father’s demise over all else.

There was a kid in Geno's yard.

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

Sidney wants to lose his virginity. Geno helps.

Dylan can argue all he wants, but Alex is pretty sure it will work.

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.

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.

“Have you considered the possibility that Neil has chosen you, but believes you have not chosen him?” Renee says. "Have you ever explicitly told him what you want?” “Neil knows what I want,” Andrew snaps. This is not Andrew’s fault. “How do you know?” Because Neil always knows. He is as fluent in Andrew’s micro-expressions as he is in German and French. He knows which head tilts mean “go on” and which ones mean “shut up.” Without ever asking, he learned what it meant to see Andrew wearing double layers of long sleeves, or taking multiple showers in a day, and learned to hand Andrew the car keys. That has always been the most terrifying thing about Neil — his patience to wait, watch, listen, learn. The prospect that if Neil were given enough time, there would be no part of Andrew that was just Andrew’s anymore. “He has to know,” Andrew says. “Does he?” Renee says. “Have you ever known Neil to assume that he is wanted?” Five times Neil tells someone that he and Andrew aren’t dating, and one time Andrew uses his words to set the record straight.

Despite his best efforts, Andrew finds himself a family.

Dabi narrows his eyes. "Alright. Let's say you don't die. You still have a limited amount of blood, and a lack of blood flow or oxygen to your brain could probably cause permanent damage that even your immortality can't repair." "I'll stop you before that happens," Hawks says, with way more confidence than he has any right to have. "You have zero self-preservation instincts," Dabi has to point out. Hawks grins at him, shooting him finger guns. "So we doing this, or what?" ~ Dabi is a vampire who's never had human blood straight from the tap before. Hawks is a dumbass college student cursed with immortality. What could go wrong?

“Excuse me,” Tywin Lannister grits through his teeth, “my son is doing what?” Stannis tries to not sigh loudly. It would not do in front of the Hand of the King. “You have the raven, my lord. He says he wishes to resign from the Kingsguard as he has not been here for a full year and does not plan to come back, and that he’s perfectly happy roaming the Stormlands and the Trident along with the last Evenstar.” “The last Evenstar.” “Yes.” “The abomination.” Stannis shrugs. “Technically she is one, but I can assure my lord Hand that she is actually quite competent to discuss with.” He’d know. She had better ideas for actually helping the commoners than most of his advisors. He wishes he could make her one. “Competent. She’s an abomination.” “She’s a useful one,” he shrugs. “Also, your son does not seem to agree.” Or: in which Jaime goes to Tarth to slay a supposed monster terrorizing the Stormlands to do something honorable with his life. It doesn't go like that at all.

“All right,” Ned Stark says. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. No one was supposed to, but I guess it’s my own damned fault for not keeping it to myself. Now, I know that if I told you to forget this you’d try, but I remember – I remember how it was when I was your age, myself. Boys of seven can forget that kind of promise easily, if they don’t know why they’re making it.” He takes in another breath. “Robb,” he says, his voice dropping so low it’s barely audible, “do you love your brother?” Or: in which Robb knows about Jon's true heritage all along.

Tim’s trying to run away from his feelings. Unfortunately, he gets abducted to Russia and is rescued by the very people he’s been avoiding.

Bernard pops the top off his water bottle, a roll of his wrist at the perfect angle and it comes right off, and pops the faucet in Tim’s very nice kitchen to cold. Tim presses a kiss to the back of Bernard’s neck before Tim moves to the fridge to get his own water. Bernard used to not drink as much water, but Tim drinks enough water for three people a day so Bernard naturally has followed- and now Bernard has no acne so he’s sort of mad about it actually. “The main character has two hands.” Bernard chimes easy and teasing. “Polygamy is the awnser here babe.” Tim peaks over the door of the fridge. “Oh? Is this you telling me something?” — Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd, and Kon-El have two hands each. They use them to hold onto each other.