fandom: free! (references to eternal summer beware)
pairing: rin/rei heck ye
rating: this one’s an M what what
wordcount: 10.6k this took me like five days to write
summary: exactly what it says on the tin
notes: i dunno man i saw a prompt on the kink meme and i was like “hey that sounds fun” and then it took me three years to write this i’m so sorry
pairings: makoharu, seigou and reigisa if you look like really hard
rating: a nice big fluffy pg probably
summary: “I have to make friends with him, Rei-chan.” He says gravely. “There’s not a single person who works in this aquarium that I don’t have at least one inside joke with. I’m not gonna let the dolphins friendblock me.” He lets go of Rei’s collar and crosses his arms. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
notes: in response to a prompt on the free! kink meme where haruka’s the ~super mysterious~ new guy at work and everyone wants to know who he’s married to but spoilers it’s makoto. why did this take me three days to write i am so distressed
voiceofthetunnels requested: shinji/aki, playing cards in the candlelight
i never get to write my babes so i’m so on this
incandecsently requested: birthday, flowers, kissing
i wrote steve/bucky here you go (ao3)
askbox prompt - akishinji, open your eyes
askbox prompt - sterek, first kiss (ao3)
The first few months after he loses his legs, after he loses all feeling and all hope and all the affection he ever had for Erik Lehnsherr begins to fade away, Charles is quiet. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t ask for much, just sits in his room and watches out the bay window, waiting for something to come up the old winding driveway of Westchester. Alex says he’s angry, Sean says he’s grieving. Hank knows better.
Hank knows he’s trying to heal, and he can’t.
There’s an iciness in his legs, and it stretches up through his bones and his veins and into his heart and his mind, and Charles can’t think anymore. He can’t work, he can’t laugh, he can’t love life anymore, not like he used to. That cold is what’s keeping him from recovering. It’s stifling him. He’s at a point in his life where he needs to grow past terrible heartbreak, but this frost has stunted him.
Until Erik shows himself again. Suddenly, the frost and the ice burns away and all that’s left is a fiery hotness, pooling at the base of his spine and down his dead legs, burns in his heart, and Charles is not angry.
Charles wants justice. Charles wants what he deserves.
Nobody in the world can get everything that they want. Nobody can have a perfect life, or even close to one, but Charles knows the things he deserves from life, and this is one of them. When he lays his eyes on Erik for the first time in months, Alex and Sean and Hank can see it.
Charles is through with waiting around. The game, once again, is on.
The way Steve stares at Bucky’s grave is crushing, in a way. In a small, spiritual way, it really is, because his eyes never move, but they see everything. They stare that slab of stone in the ground (the memorial to Bucky isn’t right on top of his grave, the actual thing is much more understated and quiet) through rain and mud, and Steve keeps the ground around it constantly stocked with flowers. Or, he used to, at least. He doesn’t so much anymore, because he doesn’t feel like he needs to, but he still stares.
Bucky walks up next to him and he looks down with him. “Hey,” he says, and he puts one hand on Steve’s elbow, his human hand, tries to get his attention. “You wanna go get dinner? Tony keeps nagging me to go that shawarma place you guys went to after you saved the world.”
Steve nods, and there’s a smile, suddenly, to accompany the stare. He seems much more content. “Sure. I’d love to.”
"Ow, ow, ow," Bucky mumbles as he powerwalks into the bathroom and turns on the running water. "See, this is why I don’t handle fragile stuff, Stevie, I’m like a bull in a China shop."
Steve’s still cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, but his voice is light when he replies. “It’s not that hard to not cut yourself on broken glass. You just don’t touch it.” He can hear Steve chuckles and toss the pieces of glass in the trash. “It’ll heal up, just give it a few minutes.”
"I got blood on my sleeve, that’s what I’m worried about."
"Oh, not your shirt.”
Bucky rolls his eyes and tries to rub at the hem of his sleeve, and Steve shows up in the mirror behind him, looking over his shoulder to inspect the wound. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.” He kisses Bucky’s cheek and heads back to the kitchen. “Just be more careful next time.”
"This is a really nice shirt, Steve!" Bucky shouts.
Now, Tony would be the first to tell anybody that it’s a goddamn travesty that you can’t bring alcohol into just any public space. It’s like some places are consecrated or something, but even priests let you have wine in churches, so what’s the big deal? McDonald’s could make a killing off of self-serve alcohol fountains — never mind, he wants to save that one for himself.
So if he bribes the exhausted-looking ticket taker with a fifty dollar bill or two to let him bring in his “suspicious beverage container” to see that new musical with the talking snowman that everyone’s raving about, he doesn’t really feel any shame about it. Besides, he lets the kid take a selfie with him, that’s enough compensation for a million water-bottled margaritas.
The theater’s swamped with exasperated mothers and chittering little brats running up and down the aisles, and he can’t help but feel a little bit out of place. It’s like his pants aren’t high up enough on his waist, or his shoes don’t light up enough.
(One of the kids who runs by is wearing an Iron Man shirt, though, so he figures it’s worth it.)
He’s already a quarter of the way into his margarita and munching on popcorn to the rhythm of Love Is An Open Door when his phone buzzes in his pocket. One mother gives him the hardest side-eye he’s ever gotten in a darkened room, and let’s be real, he’s gotten a lot of dark room side-eyes, so that’s impressive. He digs it out and tries to block the glow of the screen with his hand (partly not to disturb others, partly not to illuminate his healthy and completely pure bottle of Poland Springs.)
He smiles when he sees Bruce’s name.
did i just see you in the movie theater carrying a margarita into Frozen?
He tries his best to be quick as he types out his reply, and he can hear a kid a couple of rows behind him drop, like, a million Junior Mints on the floor. All the 6 year olds are jealous of my alcohol, he sends back. Get your ass in here before I drag you in.
Two of the characters onscreen are discussing marriage when Bruce emerges from the dark and plops himself down in the seat next to Tony, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “This movie made Thor cry, I wanna see how you take it.” Tony just chuckles and passes the water bottle over.
rating: T kind of?
wordcount: almost 4K
summary: lifeguard!au hell yeah. steve’s the new lifeguard at stark resort & beach and bucky’s their sassy blue-eyed tiki bartender who wears ugly hawaiian shirts and can mix a mean melon ball. love happens or something.
notes: this is all winter’s fault.
crossposted on ao3