After two years on her own, and two more as a hunter with Sam and Dean Winchester, Leah thought she’d escaped her old life at La Push. But when she’s called home to attend Jacob and Renesmee’s wedding, she brings a little company, and the stage is set for her old and new lives to collide.

They are enemies before the Inquisition brings them together. When the tension of unexpected camaraderie gives way to something more, Dorian learns that the Iron Bull is almost nothing like what he expected. It leaves one to wonder: what does the future hold for a Tevinter mage and a Qunari ex-Ben Hasrath agent?

It takes a long, long time for Dorian to realize that he is still waiting for the Bull to finish what he started.

Under orders not to use his right hand until it heals, Jensen is quickly frustrated by the inconvenience of functioning with only one thumb. It's a good thing Cougar is there to help him out with little things, and big things too.

101 ways to fix Xanxus. This series contains Alternate Histories all of which experiment with what changes might have led to Xanxus being only a little broken instead of totally insane.

Short fics originally posted to my Tumblr, edited and collected here.

You can find some interesting things in those old, abandoned thaigs... ******* As a general warning: it's all 100% consensual, but there isn't a whole lot of negotiation on specific acts ahead of time, and there are a few (quickly corrected) mis-steps. Nobody gets hurt, or even actually upset, but I know that's a sensitive issue for some.

Lan Wangji has a fantasy. Wei Wuxian gets several clues.

When Nie Huaisang gets paired with straight porn star Jiang Cheng for a five-part series, he’s sure it will be an utter disaster. Until the cameras start rolling and their chemistry alights like wildfire. (Or, the five times Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng have sex for their job, and the first time they have sex outside of it.)

After a dangerous fight, Tamaki needs a... special kind of stress relief. Kirishima is more than happy to help his Senpai out, even when he has an unusual request.

“I’m not telling you not to train,” Bobby said. “I’m just telling you not to be completely insane about everything for the rest of your life.” Carey blinked at him, and then the stiffness in his shoulders seemed to give way, to sag. “So, what, are you just gonna sleep for three days?” Carey said, his voice a little — a little bit lost, and oh. Oh, kid.

As Theon grows, he begins to question his place in the Stark family. Especially in regards to the heir of Winterfell.

“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

Three inches in front of Sanji's face, Zoro is wearing an expression that could wither stone. "What the fuck," the swordsman snarls, "do you think you’re doing." The remaining logical dregs of Sanji's brain recognize that he's just gotten himself into a pretty dicey situation. The rest of it apparently doesn't fucking care, though, because the absurd line of response he comes up with is to grin right in Zoro's supremely pissed-off face and say- "Well, what was your dumb ass doing?" In which the crew’s plastered, Zoro needs to blow off some steam, and Sanji gets taught a lesson or two.

“I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.” Geralt starts. “Like what?” Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?” A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

“No one told me what prayers to recite,” Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.” Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches. “I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists. He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him. He’s not even to see his death. Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes. Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.

When signs of a blackmarket organ trafficker floats up in Gotham Harbor, Jason and Tim find out that the victims had one thing in common: they both worked at a gay strip club. Determined to root out the traffickers, both decide to go undercover to solve the case. The only problem? Neither knows the other is working the case.