Nicky generally considers himself a fairly competent, attentive person, so the fact that it’s taken him years to figure out that Alex has been essentially dating him is...disappointing. And also exhilarating.

Either way, there was someone or something to blame for the fact that Jack ended up sending Connor Fucking McDavid a dick pic. Perhaps it was the universe as a whole.

It’s not - it’s not a thing. Really. Not a thing-thing, at the very least. He doesn't think it can be a thing if you only think about it and don't act on it, excepting that one time when Connor was straight up nailing him to the bed. He reasons that it certainly can't be a thing-thing if you've never even talked about it with your not-boyfriend. Dylan resolves to figure his shit out and have less hyphens involved in his life. (or: Connor McDaddy)

Jack Eichel has 99 problems and Connor McDavid is... well. More of them than he thinks. In which Jack hates Connor McDavid, who he's never met, quietly pines after the cute girl he always sees in the gym, and has no idea that these two things are related.

Connor McDavid and Dylan Strome are going to the Toronto Maple Leafs together. Even if they have to get married about it.

Jack has tried deflection, dismissal, and flat-out denial, but nothing seems to be able to dissuade the media from the McDavid-Eichel rivalry narrative, which is why he agrees when Connor suggests trying a new tactic: pretending to be friends.

“I need a favor,” Connor interrupts. That does not make Dylan feel any better. If Connor has to drive them halfway to Guelph to even ask, it must be big. “Of course,” says Dylan at once. Connor frowns at him, sidelong. “Don’t say that before I tell you what it is.” Well, that’s not ominous at all. “What did you do, murder someone and need help hiding the body?” Dylan tries to chirp. Connor’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

Connor’s experienced some weird fan interactions since he’s joined the NHL, but nothing surprises him quite as much as when a little girl raises her hand during a fan Q&A and asks him if he’s married. Not because it’s a particularly outlandish or rude question, but because his first instinct is to say “Yes.”

There's a tumblr post that's literally all about 'things your OTP could do that make people think they're married if they aren't' and instead of writing one, I wrote them all. OR, Dad and Papa are a perfect, healthy, happy couple. But, they're not a couple at all.

For the record: Travis does hook up. A completely normal amount, even.

The girl on Tinder is typing again. why don’t you show me how good you are with a cock Tyler coughs and drops his phone. That’s—wow. He did not expect her to go there.

Dylan snorts. “Nice game you have going on there,” he calls. Kaner looks up, startled. “Huh?” “The gay chicken.” Dylan raises his cup to them. “Nice effort.”

Leon can have little a maladaptive coping mechanism, as a treat.

"I kissed McDavid and then we won a game," Jack blurts out. He flexes his hand nervously. There's a suspicious silence on the other end of the phone line, but Noah is probably not laughing at him. Out loud.

Zach thinks about all the teasing Dylan’s been doing lately, all the ways he’s taunted Zach with his dick. If he wants to get into Zach’s pants, he’s going to have to be more forward than that. Or they can keep playing this long-winded game of gay chicken. So Zach stands up, sheds his gear, and when he’s sure Dylan is looking, he drops his pants.

“You kissed me the night before we got drafted,” Connor says, unbuckling Jack’s belt and making light work of yanking Jack’s jeans down to his knees. With Jack’s thighs and his penchant for tight fitting pants, it’s an impressive move. “Blew me in the men’s restroom right after dinner.” “Fuck you I did not,” Jack grunts as he lifts up his hips to help Connor strip off his boxers.

Nate looks away, shifting his weight between his feet. “Uh, it’s a contract,” he says. EJ stares at him for a moment. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” he blurts out once he’s done staring because that’s the only reasonable explanation for this. Nate looks up at him, confused and weirded out at the same time. “I’m not,” he says. “It’s for you,” he adds. In which the NHL requires subs over the age of 31 to be collared, and EJ finds himself in a tough spot.

"You know how every summer you joke about how I should collar you, for the league rule?" "Yeah?" Sid shoots a sideways look at Nate, but Nate is just sipping his beer, not looking back. "What if I took you up on that?"

MycroftexMachina

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

“Did, uh,” Jamie asks, “did this ever happen when you played this game with Brownie?” “Nope,” Tyler says.

“Maybe you should practice on me,” Jordie says.

He doesn’t want a boyfriend, but he told Connor he’d find one, and he isn’t about to let Worries McHeadache have satisfaction at the hands of Dylan’s failure to find a significant other on Tinder.

Hawks takes baby steps backwards, getting closer and closer to the door, as everyone continues to get loud and look at eachother for answers. Well, almost everybody; Dabi is watching him limp away with an unimpressed expression. “Those are torture wounds,” Shigaraki points out, crossing his arms and leveling Hawks with a dead-eyed stare. “How do you even know what torture wounds look like?” Hawks throws back as he continues to plan his escape. Shigaraki looks at him with raised eyebrows until Hawks looks away again, feeling like an idiot. These people are villains, he knows that (but its so easy to forget-). “Right, fuck.” Hawks flicks him a two fingered salute before turning tail like the coward he feels like and making for the door. He doesn't get more than four feet before Dabi grabs him by one of his wings and yanks him back.

Kirishima lived for these moments. Bakugou pressed back against his chest, thighs spread over Kirishima's own, hands sparking and popping over Kirishima's shoulder while the redhead worshipped Bakugou's body with his hands. ----- (Alternately summarized as: another fic where Bakugou can't jerk off but his bro helps and then feelings show up)

“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.

Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.

In which Aizawa brings an extra kid to mountain training camp, leaves his sleeping bag at school, and ends up sharing a futon with Yagi Toshinori for three agonizing nights before everything folds.

Ryuji asks Akira for dating advice. Practice makes perfect.

Shouta's never squirted before. When Hizashi, an instructional adult content creator, finds this information out, offers to help change that via a demonstrations video for his audience.

"He doesn’t feel jealous. He’s happy for them, truly. He doesn’t want to replace Mal, or be him, because that would imply… no Mal. If anything, he wants to be there. With Alina. With Mal. “Oh,” Nikolai lets out, blinking. If any of the guards heard him, they say nothing, know it’s not any of their business if the king has just had some kind of epiphany. He shakes his head at himself because of course, of course he wouldn’t fall in love with just one person. If Dominik could see him now, he would roll his eyes and tell him, “really, you didn’t figure it out before? You gave him your compass, didn’t you?”"

Jamie’s not gonna lie, it throws him a little when he realizes Trevor is gay.

Everyone wants to marry Zoro. Hypothetically. Sanji can’t believe everyone would pick that useless patch of growing mold over him, and considers killing Zoro. Not hypothetically. He has a list on why Zoro would be the Worst Husband Ever, not that he spends a lot of time thinking of a (purely hypothetical!) situation where he is married to Zoro, fuck you very much. (a.k.a, the one where Usopp invented Fuck, Marry, Kill.)

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else. In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

“I would almost say you look attractive like this if it wouldn’t be unfathomably disgusting and also a betrayal of everything I stand for as a human being,” Perona had told Zoro one night as she showed him a variety of tricks for untangling stubborn, sweaty hair. Zoro kinda wishes he would have listened to her, for just a single fucking moment. Maybe if he had, he would have been able to prepare himself for the level of weirdness that’s happening right now. (In which Zoro has long hair and certain people develop feelings about it.)

It’s like a high when the both of them resonate on that same frequency—two radios spitting static at each other ninety-percent of the time until they find overlap for one, just one, perfectly-played song. The music is brilliant and vibrant when it’s playing. It’s always over faster than Sanji ever wants it to be.

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.

Left with only three other crew mates, it’s a ready expectation that Sanji will start fawning all over Robin in his usual obnoxious way. However, that’s not what happens. Instead, looking wild around the eyes in a way only someone who knows him well would recognize, the cook doesn’t break stride until he’s firmly within Zoro’s orbit and can wrap both hands around his upper arm, clinging tight. “Hi, darling,” he chirps, his expression desperately conveying that Zoro needs to play along under pain of death. “Did you miss me?”

After the body issue comes out, Tyler only gets one tweet about his junk. It’s a chirp about the proverbial dick-to-ducky ratio in the web-only behind-the-scenes shower pictures. The stupid fake Stanley Cup ass tattoo gets way more attention than anything else, other than the fact that he’s naked in front of a camera. That’s how he wants it: people talking about what he does, not who he is. In which Tyler is trans, and Jamie isn't. A story about coming out, or not; breaking up, or not; and bunching mox. Or not.

Twenty is probably too young to die, even for a shinobi, but if anyone can kill Sakura with sheer attractiveness, it's Kori.

Sam is feeling pretty good so far. His jean jacket is freshly washed, he’s got his favourite red-yellow shirt on (he thinks it contrasts nicely with the blue-green of his eyes). His hair has enough gel in it to withstand even the fiercest windstorms. He’s put deodorant on three times already and he’s wearing enough body spray to bring tears to his mother’s eyes. Gotta smell good, just in case things go according to plan. Today is going to be the day he declares his feelings to Sebastian. He’s ready.

Sebastian takes his problems and a confusing gift to the lake for some Frog Therapy, and things go a little wrong before they go a little right.

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.

Sam and Sebastian just want really want pizza and are willing to work for it, that's all. Just two friends getting a pizza fix... nothing gay to see here. (Then why does everyone keep watching?)

It's not easy being in love with your best friend, but Sam has managed fine for the last ten years or so. Then Abigail had to go and make them do that stupid dare, and things suddenly got a lot harder. And more difficult, too.

Sebastian and Sam confide in Abigail. She wishes they hadn't.

Sex and feelings and Neil Josten in the middle. In both sexy and unsexy ways.

Neil needs a ride home. Matt isn't answering his texts. Wrong Number AU

Neil tries to get away from a boring conversation and accidentally ends up asking the most popular guy in school to dance with him at the winter formal.

“Andrew doesn't love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don't know it.” “Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don't actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”