Geno had arrived in Pittsburgh looking every minute of the nineteen hour flight from Helsinki, plus however long he’d been in transit between there and his run from the KHL. Sid had been standing next to Mario, watching the new arrival expectantly, even though he didn’t think Geno was a threat. The other wolf had spent too much time negotiating on his own behalf to be allowed into another pack’s territory, and even more to be allowed to play with the team. But all the same, new wolves made Sidney antsy. Written for the multi-fandom Werewolf Big Bang.

It starts like this: Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so: America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

this is the year he has to turn it around. (or, how kaner's mother prompted him to grow up and how he set some rules for himself.)

In 2010, the best athletes in the world gathered in Vancouver for the Games of the thirty-first Olympiad. Of all the medals to be awarded at the Games, the host nation of Canada wanted one above all: the last medal to be awarded, gold in Men's Hockey. To this end, Canada assembled a team of superstars, the best and brightest in the NHL, led by Sidney Crosby. On the shoulders of that team they placed the hopes of the nation.

“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.

“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.

Beau has a good feeling about this season.

The hydrophones have been picking up nonsense for the past three days and Zhenya has had it up to here, honestly.

It was hot, and Sid felt kind of weird about thinking it was hot. This guy was screwing himself on camera for money. That wasn’t really Sid’s scene. He closed the browser window. Fine for other people, but not his thing.

This is not the Sidney he has come to know. This is the lord of the underworld, in his robes of office, heavy, rich, pitch black as night save the ornate embroideries of gold at the hems. There’s a diadem of onyx on his brow, flashing in the light, pointed shards of stone that make Sidney’s face underneath them look all the more stern and alien. Geno shivers. Anonymous asked: Mythology AU pls? Light angst in one scene (child’s death alluded to, not mentioned or described at all)

Magnitogorsk is a city of iron, and so is Metallurg’s will. They will not be thwarted, they do not let go of what is theirs. So when one of their own, born, bred, and molded, tries to run? To spit in the face of all that they’ve given him? Metallurg does not give up what it owns.

Sid has had a lot of strange meetings as the captain of the Penguins but this is by far the strangest. “You want to me to do what?” Sid asks, hoping he’d misheard Mike. ***** Sidney Crosby goes off his suppressants for a chance at the Stanley Cup and love.

“Vancouver!” Sid turns and shouts at the last second as she goes through the doors. “Vancouver!” Geno yells back. (Sochi timestamp.)

Evgeni Malkin is a star forward and three-time Art Ross Trophy winner. Sidney Crosby is the head chef of Nouma, a Halifax restaurant that boasts two Michelin stars. They cross paths in Pittsburgh.

This time yesterday, Jamie was picking Tyler up from the airport. It's been six hours since Nill called her and said, "Hey, looks like you're in town, can you come in today?" and five since Jordie texted help I have a wardrobe emergency. Half the notifications on Tyler's phone are Snapchats from Brownie, presumably 50/50 dogs and blurry dick pics. This is Tyler's life.

DON’T LET ANYONE FEED YOU BISCUITS FROM A TUBE, JACK ZIMMERMAN!!! The AU where Jack is a Pittsburgh Penguin

In 2002, Sydney Crosby plays hockey at Shattuck St. Mary’s. In 2003, she signs with Dynamo Moscow and begins her professional hockey career. In 2004, there’s a NHL lockout. In 2005, the NHL grudgingly opens its League up to women. They’ll have to do better than that if they want Sydney to play for them.

Sidney always knew his family would pick who he ended up with. It was how things were done, and no matter what the outside world thought, he'd never questioned it before because it was just the reality: ice was frozen, getting checked against the boards knocked the wind out of you, one day Sid would be matched to someone his parents and the matchmaker and his aunts and uncles and his community thought was the best fit for him. And best of all, Sidney wouldn't have to worry about it. He would just focus on hockey. He'd deal with it one day. Eventually. 'One day' had seemed so much farther away when he was younger.

"The lawyers have found a pretty good loophole," Pat said. "It's not a loophole, it's a long-standing cultural tradition," Mario said, glancing at Sidney. "It's a fucking loophole," Pat reiterated. "But it's a great one."

The website is simple and straightforward. The header reads Black Forest BDSM and there's a tasteful banner showing a set of leather handcuffs laying on elegant sheets. There's a photo on the side of a solidly built man in leather pants and a tight fitting shirt, cropped so that his mouth is visible but the rest of his face isn't.

In which alternate universe Boston had 4th pick and Washington had 5th pick in the 2006 draft, and in which alternate universe the NHL is kind enough make accommodations for players’ personal circumstances. For instance, to allow Washington to pick Alex Ovechkin’s absolutely true, definitely not fake, 100% not-made-up fiancé to come play for the Caps. “You what,” Alex says. “Alex Ovechkin’s who?” —and its aftermath, through the years.

It’s going to be a big deal, his mother had told him, and Nicklas had listened. His mom’s not an idiot. It’s going to be a big deal, she’d promised, if and when you find them. It’s going to be more than you thought it would, and if and when you know it, you’ll know it for sure.

A writer from Alex's past outs him in an essay. What's a guy to do but marry his former best friend?

Jordie is a totally supportive brother, which is why he's hiring Jamie a stripper.

At 27, Sidney's divorced, sharing custody of his daughter with his ex-wife, and has a reputation for renovating historic homes. He's just doing what he loves, but an audition tape he doesn't remember submitting to HGTV lands him a job offer in Pittsburgh. A few years later, it brings him the client that will change his life.

“I love being an omega,” Mitch says. He’s trying to stick his hair up into soapy spikes as Auston watches him tiredly from the other end of the bathtub. “I don’t have to do things I don’t wanna do and people take care of me. What’s not to like?” He pauses. “Plus, heats are sick.” “Really?” Auston asks, mind racing. Maybe it’s not too surprising. Mitch adores being taken care of, likes being babied and coddled; given gifts and affection. Marty got him a four foot stuffed bear from the cinema arcade a few weeks ago and his whole face lit up when he received it. "You like heat?" “Yeah,” Mitch says, and pats all his hair down before wading through the water, bending over Auston and bumping their noses together. He's smiling all sweet but Auston still feels like prey. “I really like it. You just lie there and take it and it feels so good ‘cause your body wants it so bad.”

Jack Eichel: Omega, and pissed off about it.

Sometimes he wakes up sucking on his fingers, rutting his hips into the bed. He’ll be right on the edge of coming, the wet head of his dick trapped between his hips and the sheets, but he can’t, he can’t, not without – not without something pushed up inside, something stretching him open.

In its early stages, this project appears to be achieving the initial goals, and has greatly expanded the availability of samples for study across a broad range of disciplines. Inspired by metamorphosis by ionthesparrow.

There’s an honor system to it: don’t pick too far below your weight class unless you’ve got an excuse, or too far above unless you’re trying to make a statement; if you’re going to pass or whine about it too much, be prepared to pay for it next time; if you’re going to be a dick, the guy you’re picking better deserve it.

Tkachuk’s trade from Calgary to Edmonton happened midseason, so he just shows up in the locker room on a Tuesday morning in early December with no announcement. He looks greasy and tired and wears a wrinkled suit. Leon can’t help but think that there's something odd about Tkachuk’s arrival in Edmonton. With all the effort that Tkachuk puts into establishing himself as a pest on the ice, he’s remarkably un-pest like on dry land.

"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?"

It was just supposed to be a summer fling. An admittedly strange summer fling, because most casual hookups don’t come with ropes and gags and pet names. But still just a summer fling, because Kris Letang isn’t the kind of guy that wants a relationship. At least...he wasn’t that kind of guy. Now he’s not so sure.

70 days. If they do their job well, that's how long the Maple Leafs will be in the bubble for; far too long to neglect dynamic interactions. Hell, Mitch starts feeling antsy after a week if he doesn't have someone kneeling for him. The NHL hopes to bring in professionals, but until they can get approved, the Leafs are going to need to turn to teammates for their dynamic needs. This could go wrong in a hundred different ways. But then Mitch sees who he got paired with, sees their shared kinks - feminization - and thinks, maybe it could also go very, very right.

Paul didn't say anything before Borts was traded. Paul didn’t need to worry before then. Well. Paul’s a worrier; it’s not like he can just stop. Even though James is in Nashville, with Doms on his team to look after him, Paul can’t help but worry about him. It’s really not a surprise that he worries about the subs on his own team, too.

Everyone’s always known Jonny’s a dom.

He feels something touch his foot, his ankle, but when he looks down nothing is there. It’s tadpole season, and in the shallows, around the reeds, they skitter about beneath the surface.

Smut ficlets, mostly Mpreg related, but knowing me it will likely spiral.

I blame imagined peer-pressure and reading too much fic. oh well

"I just wanna see it," Noah says.

Nolan flips to his messages, but as expected, it’s mostly just unoriginal openers—who’s going to respond to sup, honestly—and unflattering dick pics. He rolls his eyes and goes back to the profiles. He comes across one guy, just a scant two miles away, who actually has his face in his profile picture, which is a refreshing change. He’s cute, longish dark hair with a sneaky smile, and his name is Travis. Nolan has never started a conversation with anyone before, but again: antsy and horny. He debates for an embarrassingly long time over what to say and finally settles on something simple. And dumb, probably, but the magic of anonymity is that he doesn’t really give a shit. And at least it’s miles better than a dick pic of a soft dick, which Nolan didn’t know was actually a thing until he got more than one. The bar is low, is what he’s saying here.

Patrick's text says: sometimes all I can think about is rubbing my dick all over your tits. It's not meant for Jonny, but maybe he wishes it were.

For Patrick, half the point of coming out was to finally be able to have decent sex. He just wasn't expecting it to be with Jonny.