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?”

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.)

“I presume,” Mace says with a flicker of amusement, ghost-white fluttering in the corner of his vision, “that that relief isn't solely for my own benefit.” Ponds has the decency to look chagrined. “I'm glad you're safe, sir. When the droid hit you…” He pauses, meets Mace's eyes, and his expression is a little rueful, a little grim. “Not everyone took it well.”

In which Yuri Plisetsky began life with the name Edward Elric, and this has made the world of figure skating a significantly stranger and more alarming place. “Are you saying you lived a life of crime before you began skating?” “I’m gonna have to check the statute of limitations on a couple things and get back to you on that.”

In which Midoriya Inko happens to be the reincarnation of one Izumi Curtis- and the world will never be the same.

Esdras Al-Ridha is born in 1899, in his mother’s family home. His birth certificate, when it’s written a month later by Dr. Yuriy Rockbell, will declare his name Edward Elric. It will name his mother Trisha, and it will say nothing of her white hair. It will say nothing of the blue desert sky he first opens his eyes under, the way he is passed to relative after relative and is held and blessed by each. (Even before the war, tensions are high, and hatred is brewing. Tirzah holds her newborn son, with eyes as gold as his father’s, and pale-sun hair halfway there, and she decides that if Ishvala wants him hidden, then Tirzah will not brand him where his genes have not.)

When he’d admitted his problem to Shouta in an embarrassing split-second decision that he’d almost regretted—because what twenty-two year old up-and-coming pro hero had never managed to get off before, seriously—he hadn’t expected his best friend to bluntly offer to help. But now. Oh, now. Hizashi felt like he was going to explode, and not in a good way.

As if Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have enough to deal with, now he's been attacked by some enormous dog in the forest, and that's normal compared to what happens next... Re-telling of seasons 1-3B with Sheriff Stilinski being bitten instead of Scott.

Where Class 1-A finds itself in a time loop centered around their first year at UA. After getting over the usual angst, they decide that the best way to grow as heroes is by antagonizing dangerous villains for fun and amusement.

The drug is called heatwave. It supposedly emulates werewolf heats on humans. And yes, Stiles is stupid enough to take it on a dare.

Derek’s had a rough life up until this point. He’s beginning to learn perspective, and in the scheme of things, being a temporary woman is pretty minor.

Evgeni Malkin is thirteen when he soul bonds.

Sid growls. He can’t help it. It’s wrong. Malkin is whimpering and crying and struggling against his restraints. His scent is all fear and chemicals and something deeper, something dark and oppressing. Sid thinks it’s anger but it’s too bitter to try and get a proper read on.

Geno is a beta. That doesn't mean he isn't the team's omega.

“I deserve to suffer.” “Sorry to hear American alphas aren’t good enough for your fussy little Russian asshole,” Seryozha says. “Now, stop pouting. Just because you think you need to suffer, doesn’t mean I’m going to suffer through all your drama with you. God knows you’re already insufferable enough on normal days.” Zhenya spends a few more seconds definitely Not pouting, no matter what the sullen purse of his lips might suggest.

In which Evgeni Malkin comes to America as one of the few omegas in pro hockey, lights up the NHL, and spends a lot of time wondering why Sidney Crosby is so damn weird.

If Sidney weren’t facing an unexpected total rewire, he would be really tempted to jump Geno, right there. (A Fixer Upper AU)

At the 2014 Olympics, Russia injected Zhenya with a bond blocker, same as the last two times he'd been to the games. Only this time, it brought him to his knees and left him gasping, feeling like his soul was ripped from his body. As an unbonded omega, the shot should have no effect. It should have only targeted an active bond. Unbeknownst to Zhenya, Sid collapsed on the ice at the same time.

"I think I have to get bonded," Sid said in a hollow voice, cutting off Geno's building outrage. "Wait, what?" Geno asked, mind jumping like a car on a blown tire. "To who?" "Anybody." Sid's eyes were unfocused, staring through the wall in front of him. "I don't know. I just need to bond." "That's a story," Geno scoffed. He had always thought they had good sex education in Canada, but apparently, the rumors persisted there, too. "You don't stop heat if you bond." "Heat?" Sid asked, eyes squinched up curiously. "G—I'm not. You know I'm an alpha, right?" *** Or five times Sid couldn't bond with an omega and one time he did.

You are not your biology. Tyler’s mother had told him that so many times growing up. When he told her he wanted to play hockey but was afraid to go up against so many alphas. You are not your biology. When an alpha triggered his heat during a scrum and Tyler had to be carried off the ice, fever already burning up his bones. You are not your biology. Tyler wishes he could believe her.

“Sid, I’m so—I’m sorry,” Geno said. “My stupid—I’m ruin everything, I—” “Shut up, Geno,” Sidney said, already intensely weary of listening to Geno’s self-recrimination. “You’ve barely even done anything.” Geno’s voice dropped what sounded like an entire octave. “But I want to.”

Tyler is an excellent bro, and he endeavors to provide excellent bro action.

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.

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.

He doesn't want to go back to the minors, or fucking get kicked out all together, so he's got to get this right. He's going to be perfect even if it kills him.

Turning to a witch to save a loved one's life is one of the riskier gambles a person can take, but it's one that's arguably noble and brave. Falling in love with the witch, though—now that's just foolish.

Beau has a good feeling about this season.

The first Zhenya heard about it was an email from Sidney in the middle of August.

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

Of course Tyler knows that intense hockey makes a sub more susceptible to going under, but he hadn't really experienced it much before. Now, when he’s on his knees on the ice drinking beer out of the Worlds trophy that Sidney Fucking Crosby is holding to his mouth, he can recognize the signs. He can feel a haze settling around the edges of his mind, and he’s spent enough time subbing, and drunk, and subbing while drunk, to know which one of those this is.

It looks like a seizure, Stiles falling down and twitching and writhing on the floor. His limbs are shaking, his body trembling, but afterwards Stiles always tells him it isn't a seizure. Derek isn't so sure. If it's not a seizure, what could it be?

Jonny's heat comes early and unexpectedly strong. Pat is there, on the other side of the locked door, to help him through it.

"If you say I told you so, I'm going to feed you to a sarlacc," Jango growls, stalking right past Jaster and into the keep, trailing slime.

The inside of the car is hot. Someone should crack a window. Instead, Zhenya curls closer to Sid’s side. “Did you hear me?” “Hm?” Zhenya rubs his cheek against Sid’s hair. It’s damp and curling, almost soft. Sid huffs, sending fresh eddies of his scent whirling. “I asked why your heat suppressants stopped working.”

“Sidney comes highly recommended,” Zhenya hears at the edge of his consciousness.

After one scandal too many, Patrick Kane gets traded. Eventually it stops being the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

The first time Sid meets Geno, he isn’t Geno, he’s Evgeni Malkin, and he’s the enemy. Sid is so pumped up for the game he barely notices him. He doesn’t notice anything except hockey, and Malkin’s good, but that’s all he is. He feels a tinge of sadness when Canada wins, but he guesses he just feels bad. Ovechkin’s not the only one crying, and Sid isn’t so unfeeling he doesn’t have some sympathy for how it must suck to lose. He also gets a headache when he flies back home, but he’s just really overtired is all. He doesn’t think anything of it.

He saw the horn poking out from the pony's head, golden and straight and somehow delicate-looking despite the empty tuna can hanging off of it. The unicorn horn. "The fuck," Sidney said out loud, his eye skipping from the horn over the greyish-white body to the graceful gold-toned hooves.

It’s actually his father who suggests it. “Take the rest of the summer for yourself,” he says. “Do something fun.” “Fun,” Sidney repeats blankly.

Merpeople didn’t kill humans except in stories. Merpeople also didn’t talk to humans, or bob up in the water near where a human was fishing from the dock and tell him to throw back anything that wasn’t a lionfish, or kiss humans or look at them the way Sid was looking at Zhenya now, as Zhenya finally stepped out of his trunks. Merpeople kept to themselves. But not Sid.

Sid didn’t introduce himself in the hallway, and he certainly doesn’t assume that people know who he is. So it would only be polite to thank Malkin again, this time more personally. He could write him a letter. An email? No, a letter.