Sidney doesn’t realize it’s a new superstition when it happens; there’s no reason he would. It’s just the team on an outing before their fifth game against Ottawa, everyone loose and easy and ebullient. When they’re heading out to get some sleep, Geno gathers Sidney close, even closer than his usual, and Sidney can’t help smiling back, basically happy about everything. Geno’s an affectionate guy, and if he tends to get a little extra affectionate with Sidney, well, Sidney never minds.

It's one thing for your parents you don't see that often to think you're dating your friend. It's another for the brother you live with to think that too.

Ninety percent of everyone's problems could be solved by a robot that just texted NO to hockey players on a regular basis. Unfortunately, Sidney didn't have a robot.

Five times the Penguins assumed Sid was dating Geno, and one time the Capitals knew otherwise.

On the government's classified mutant register—and on the NHL's records—Sidney is listed as Sidney Patrick Crosby, Nova Scotia, Canada: Class Two. Death visions, skin contact required.

On the one hand, it's pretty much the weirdest turn of events to ever hit the world in the history of ever. On the other hand, at least it happened during the off-season.

“So I say, before I’m thinking through, I say am getting married,” Geno says and glances up at Sid and then back down again. “They say to American?” Geno seems reluctant to continue. Sid’s stuck on trying to figure out who Geno is marrying and why he didn’t tell Sid about it. “I say, ‘no, to Canadian.'” Sid makes a face. Because seriously, Sid feels like he would’ve heard if Geno was dating someone that seriously. But then again, he had no idea Geno had a kid until he was sitting in a hotel room in fucking Finland. “Who?” Sid finally asks when Geno seems like he’s not going to continue. Geno takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “You.” “Me what?” Sid asks stupidly. or The summer Russia invaded Ukraine and Geno had to marry Sid: a love story.

“Geno? Are you okay? Physically,” Sid asks, which is good, because Zhenya doesn’t think he can put into words how he’s feeling emotionally. He imagines saying, The person I’ve loved for ten years finally took me to bed last night, but it turns out he didn’t want to, and now I can read his mind. No, thank you. “Feel fine,” Zhenya answers. “Even head feel fine.” And suddenly he realizes how fucking odd that is: he was concussed, and the room is brightly lit – he should be hiding under a blanket right now. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Sid, why head feel fine? What happen to concussion?” Sid takes a halting step closer to the bed and says, “Our bond, it’s—it’s a healing bond.” “Holy mother of God,” Zhenya breathes. So. They’re definitely not breaking the bond, then.

Some people get mean when they drink. Some people get quiet, or loud, or weepy. Sid gets… well.

Sid had been simmering all day and now he was ebullient, a full boil, about to spill over. set after the October 12th, 2013 Lightning game

Four dreams Geno accidentally shared.

Nate just wants Sid to be hurt and vulnerable around him. No, hold on, that came out wrong.

Conor's not exactly sure what the protocol is when the namemark on your wrist belongs to best player in the world (and your new captain), and you're an undrafted kid out of UMass. Do you wait for him to say something first? Yeah, better wait for him to say something first.

Sidney takes care of his wolves.

Three years is a long time to fake-date your friend as a favor. Flower, Véro, and Sid maybe need this pointed out for them.

It's Sid's job as captain to match up the subs on his team with suitable Doms. It doesn't take long to figure out that the only Dom he would trust Jamie Benn's particular needs to is himself.

It takes him two months, one more heat, and the NHL omega entry course before he realizes that he was meant to let one of them take him through it. They don't do it like that in Sweden, which Nicklas mans up and valiantly explains to the room after he makes it back from camp. They don't use humans as tools. All people are people, and Nicklas would never — he couldn't imagine having a teammate inside him every time he fell into heat, however willing they might be. His body is his own, and they all touch him far more than enough already. He refrains from mentioning that last point to the team.

a version of the nhl where every rookie that makes the show is a virgin (though this is pretty variable), and every team has a couple of guys whose job on top of hockey is to fuck the rookie on camera. videos are passed on to every team captain because the captain of a winning team gets to choose a player from the losing team to fuck (or bestow upon another player on their team to fuck). as such, this series contains somewhat dubious consent inherent to the premise.

“You know how I said I, uh. Spend a lot of time in the lake? Back home?” “Yes,” Zhenya said cautiously. Yes, Sid had told Zhenya that he was an inhuman fish creature. Zhenya had mostly recovered.

Very occasionally, the captain of a hockey team goes into heat and needs to be lovingly gangbanged by his team to knock him up with as many babies as possible. This year it's Sid's turn.

Jonny’s prostate is a gift from the gods. Patrick’s patience, also.

This whole thing had started back in their first year in the league, when Alex had dragged Sydney out drinking with what looked like every Russian in New York City after one of their million joint press-and-photo-shoot events. Everyone wanted a piece of the first two women to play in the NHL, and if they could take a piece of both of them at the same time, so much the better.

Alex is giving him a confused look, and Sid realizes that he has failed to ask a pretty basic question. “Alex? Have you done this before? Not heat, obviously, just—been a guide, had a guide, whatever.” Alex smiles – a sardonic, twisting thing. “Don’t you know, Sidney Crosby? I’m bad, terrible captain, most selfish alpha, won’t be heat-guide like good Canadian captain.” He laughs, and it sounds more like a cough. “I’m think everybody know, they talk about so much.”

Sid’s gotten pretty used to total strangers asking him what he’s trying to prove, or telling him he wasn’t raised right, and they always expect it to bother him. He doesn’t tell them he hears much, much worse on the ice. When shit gets even worse than usual—when a ref calls him a brat when he’s arguing a call, when another team’s goon tries to put him on his knees five times a game—he sits on the bench and presses down on his chest protector, feeling the shape of the captain’s ring on its chain around his neck, until he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. Sid’s never had a dom, not even for a night, but he has his team, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

“Is normal,” Geno says firmly. “Nealer has stupid hair, Tanger has dumb tattoos, Sid has no dick.” Sid laughs. “I have six dicks, I don’t wear them for hockey,” he says.

Sid came over for dinner a few nights later with an unanticipated bouquet of pink roses and hovered by the kitchen island while Zhenya put the flowers in water. Zhenya’s heart pounded in his chest. Flowers were a clutching gift; pink flowers— “Geno, uh,” Sid said, and Zhenya’s hands trembled slightly as he fussed with the blossoms. “I know it’s way too soon, but. Do you want to?”

sea_salt_waves said: I've been having all these feelings lately about a human Geno falling for sexually-repressed incubus!Sid who pays sex workers to jerk off for him and has never been in a relationship before, with all kinds of insecurities and pining… ... I didn't stick to the prompt perfectly, but it was definitely my inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

Geno was in pre-heat when he showed up at the rink: Sid could smell it on him. Geno swanned into the locker room with his head held high, kind of glowing with self-satisfaction, and smelling ripe with it, right on the edge of tipping over.

The package arrives the day after Sid gets back to Pittsburgh. Sid recognizes the discreet wrapping, and the lack of a return address is so obvious they might as well have printed Sex Toys R Us all over the damn box.

Peters clapped him on the shoulder. "Try to find a way to...if not relax, then decompress. Take a day for yourself once in a while, don't worry about hockey or school or anything." Sid hesitated. "Is that an order, or...?"

“Sid,” Geno says. “Team lonely.”

Five minutes later, he sits back on his bed, pillow clutched triumphantly in his hands. Patrick is splayed out across his own bed, breathing hard with his hair curling out in five different directions. Jonny smugly clicks the television off with the remote, and then tosses the pillow next to him so he can climb under the sheets. Patrick sits up after a minute, tucks his hand under his chin and abruptly swipes his hand out into a point, straight at Jonny, with a glare. Jonny blinks, and then Patrick translates. It figures the first thing Jonny’d learn in sign language is 'fuck you'.

In which Sharpy bothers Jonny with his camera, and Jonny, well, likes it a lot.

Jonny doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be doing this, but there’s a contract, there are rules, and he’s got as little of a choice as Patrick does.

Jonathan Toews is the billet brother Patrick never had. Or wanted. (A Sentinel AU in which the most far-fetched thing is Jonathan Toews going 24th in the draft.)

Patrick loses his voice for a few weeks in the summer.

Jonny pretty much knows when he’s playing well. Pat likes to tell him anyways. (In which Kaner needs to chill.)

Geno and Sid are stuck missing the All-Star Game because they've had their genitals temporarily rearranged. It happens. They make the breast of it.

Geno doesn’t quite understand why Sid likes to keep sex to a minimum during the pre-game period. Sid claims that he likes to focus on just feeling his muscles move and thinking about getting his head in the right space to play. Geno would much rather just get off. As a result, Geno can’t really commiserate with Sid about how his sex drive picking up is a problem, which might make him a bad boyfriend, except for the fact that he totally accepts being cut off for a lot of the play-offs so he’s an excellent boyfriend, thank you very much.

“Patrick,” Jonny cuts in. He’s breathing too hard. “You’re not supposed to touch me because I hurt people. My touch. It hurts people.” “Well, you didn’t hurt me,” Patrick says, flopping onto the bed.

In which Geno is a famous porn star and Sid needs money to pay for hockey gear. “Did you just introduce yourself to my ass?”

Sid’s been dropping subtle clues for years, it feels like, but Geno’s never picked up what he’s thrown down. So when the perfect opportunity presents itself—well, he’d have to be an idiot not to take advantage. The conversational topic is Things That Have Disappointed You in the Bedroom. Sid has this all wrapped up, to be honest. “Guys with big dicks,” he says flatly, and Tanger spits his beer all over the table. (OR: The Bedroom Adventures of Sidney Crosby, Troll)

Jonny shows Patrick how it works. And by "it", I mean his dick. Jonny's, but temporarily Patrick's.

Tipping back in the chair, Sid craned his neck to look up at him. He inhaled through his nose and caught the warm-metal scent of Geno’s post-heat bleed. “I can help you with that, too,” he murmured.

Babies are born because people wish them out of the sky, and Geno doesn't realize he's been wishing that hard. Luckily, his team has his back.

Sid refuses to be jealous of something that's two and a half feet high and can't play hockey. OR: The Pittsburgh Zoo named some penguins after the Penguins, and no one will let Sid forget the one named after him has its shit together, because all his friends are assholes. Also there's pining.

Sid shows up to practice with a hickey. Misunderstandings ensue.

Marc was fine with being an omega, and then he went and imprinted on Kris Letang.

Beau has a good feeling about this season.

The NHLOmega GroupMe isn't particularly helpful or professional, but the gossip (and the dick pics) make it worth the headache. Olli's just glad to be here.