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

“Simon,” Raphael gasps out, and Simon’s dark eyes track his every movement, flicking down to his fingers and dragging back up Raphael’s body slowly, leaving a trail of liquid fire in their wake, “You have to help me, Simon, please – “ “Anything.” Simon says quickly, his voice cracking, and Raphael can feel Simon’s arousal, the scent thick as it curls possessively around Raphael, “Anything you need.”

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.

“Here’s the key,” Gonch said after they got Sidney’s luggage out. “The doorman knows who you are. Are you going to be okay?” “I’ll probably be more than okay,” Sidney admitted. “Forget I asked.” In which Sidney spends his heat in Russia with his long-distance boyfriend, Geno.

Sidney holds out his hand and they shake. They don’t bond then, although people like to think that’s when it happened.

“What is it that you do, Omega Malkin?” Sid says eventually, tired of the guessing game. Apparently, he’s asked a controversial question. There’s a tension in the air. Mrs. Malkin starts giving a very particular look to her son and Omega Malkin shifts in his seat and straightens his spine like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Hockey,” Omega Malkin says evenly. Sid’s fork slips from his grip and clatters against his plate. He looks up and across the table at Omega Malkin. -- or; Sidney Crosby is an unbonded werewolf. So is Evgeni Malkin.

Nolan knew that - eventually - he’d either have to give up his summer routine or bring Travis in on his secret.

Every step Sanji took, he wanted to die. Every step he took, gods, he felt alive. It was strange, odd, uncomfortable, glorious, his mate's arm around his shoulders, all burly muscle, tucking Sanji under impressive biceps and up against just-as-impressive obliques. You'd think Zoro was an alpha to look at him on a normal day. Broad, head high as always - could he have walked any other way if he tried? - dripping confidence, exuding well-earned ego. And his lover, Sanji, so much narrower, several inches shorter with their carefully chosen shoes, head a little ducked as he smoked through a slim little black filter. "I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack." "Good thing I'm here to give you mouth to mouth, cutie."

They leave the office, Mai pretending that all her senses aren’t full of Zuko’s warm, spicy scent, and he keeps looking worried. She wonders if it’s this he’s worried about, now that she’s thinking about it. They agreed they’d share their next cycles together, but again, they haven’t really talked about it. They can talk about it now, Mai thinks. Unfortunately, that means now they actually have to talk about it.