Victor has a thing for every new bit of Yuuri he sees. (It’s odd, when he thinks about it, how awkward he has historically been in everyday life in contrast with the way stepping onto the ice feels like fitting into a disguise, an alternate persona where he’s confident, alluring, captivating. Yuuri used to feel so invisible; Victor has made him blossom into someone present.)

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

Omegas are inviting. Warm. The heart of pack life. Tsuna never believed he'd be any of those things. (Omega Tsuna, warm and wonderful but entirely unaware of it, unwittingly draws others to him and inspires unwavering loyalty.) No Mafia. Tsuna's "Family" is just his patchwork pack of similarly damaged children. Lots of platonic pack feels and bonding. Endgame Tsuna/Hibari.

Written for the prompt: Zevran gets a bad tangle in his hair and Alistair helps him get it out.

Alistair has spent his whole life hating himself for the things he wants. Zevran is just looking for a fun way to pass the time. What could possibly go wrong when someone who has no experience with sex gets into a D/s relationship with someone who has no experience with healthy relationships? Or: Alistair and Zevran serve as a case study on how to do (almost) everything wrong but still end up in the right place (eventually).

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

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

Levi Ackerman has made a career out of anticipating the unexpected, but he's found himself in a position he never could have predicted: getting divorced. Single again for the first time in ten years, he’s listless and untethered during the initial separation. He's got a lot of issues to work through and–on a leap of faith–decides to seek the help of a very different kind of professional.

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?" "It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back.

Bernard is maybe not doing all that great at his first gala but Tim Drake is nothing if not a problem-solver and Conner Luthor . . . well, he's here too?