#nova's yapping sessions

[omorinovaau]

yapping session about my fav ships :

i love suntan so much. i want to squeeze them.

and don't get me started on omokel. THE SILLIES!!!! THE SILLY CHILDREN(god why does that sound so weird-)!!! THE SILLY BLORBOS!!!

suntan is literally the sun x moon dynamic!!!

I LOVE KELBREY!!!!!!! THE SILLIES!!!! THEY WOULD BE THAT ONE MARRIED COUPLE THAT BICKERS!!! I LOVE KELBREY SO MUCH,PAST,PRESENT,FUTURE,AU,OR HEADSPACE!!!

cactiflower.

the sillies.

the skrunklies.

the skrimbos.

i want basil to pick up kel like a cat.

queerplatonic or platonic cactiflower>>>

sunflower.

queerplatonic or platonic sunflower >>>

they are the lamest things ever i want to crush them /pos

PHOTOBOMB!!!

i prefer to call it 'aubsi',i don't even know why. it just sounds cute,and i also like to imagine that basil would nickname her that,but like,writen 'aubsey' instead.

pre-canon aubsi>>>

[stealingyourteeth]

i have been thinking. scheming even. about a renegades (YA book series by marissa meyer) and chnt crossover au. i have talents and occupations planned out for at least 4 characters and how a side plot with them would fit into the canon of the original renegades universe.

part 1/???

if you don’t know what renegades and/or camp here and there is i suggest you read this for chnt, and this for renegades!

CAMP HERE AND THERE SPOILERS(?)

RENEGADES SPOILERS

sydney is healer at renegades hq, his talent would be chlorokinesis (the ability to create, manipulate, and animate plant life). this talent is also known as botanokinesis.

jedidiah works in research and development, and he could be a technopath (the ability to control technology). ive also thought about him having a secret talent where he can give life to another being at the expense of his own life?? but i haven’t really thought that through yet

elijah is an anarchist, but he isn’t really around in the subway tunnels and isn’t even aware that the rest of the anarchists moved to nova’s house after the tunnels collapsed (explained more down below). he has the talent of Disabling Aura, people near him feel fatigue and are unable to use their own talent.

adam during the age of anarchy was apart of a villain gang (I haven’t decided which one yet) and had the title “Up and Adam” (as in chnt lmao). after the day of triumph, he now works as a counselor at renegades headquarters, though he uses this job for self gain a lot of the time. he has the ability of dreamwalking, which is exactly what the name states. he can walk into peoples dreams. this could set up an interesting dynamic as Nova never sleeps. (i actually plan on writing a fic where she takes up the counseling opportunity after killing Ingrid at the end of the first book)

heres where the side plot comes in. back in the age of anarchy elijah was put in charge of the hostages (I don’t rlly remember if the anarchists took hostages it’s been awhile since ive read the series all the way through) and sydney was one of the hostages. elijah became fixated with sydney, as his aura worked in a different way around him. when elijah was around sydney, it seemed like sydney’s senses were heightened instead of the opposite. he still couldn’t use his chlorokinesis, but this small defect was enough to send elijah spiraling into obsession. due to this, he spent most of his time tending to sydney, ignoring the other hostages despite what valuable information they may be able to give up.

even after the day of triumph, he was still fascinated with sydney. he was rarely in the subway tunnels where the other anarchists live because of this, and he really had no idea that the subway tunnels collapsed. he spent most of his days stalking sydney from afar, as he couldn’t get close to him considering the effect that he had on sydney.

there’s also like. a side side plot which ill explain.

the reason jedidiah is working in r&d is so he can try and find a way to help sydney survive longer (as he’s still chronically ill in this universe). sydney has been surviving by growing healing herbs and modern medicine, but jedidiah wants to find something more permanent.

ill update this more as i get more ideas, i just want to put this out into the world before I forget ^_^

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

\/

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

\/

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

\/

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

[geoxstxrs]

I cant wait for you to finish season 2 so that I can show you my Yap session about Nova and why she's underestimated and that she's not the weak scaredy cat people tend to think she is <33

Im finishing S1 today when i get home !!!! Btw I NEEEEEED to know if Dallas will get a bigger role in S2 I BIBVIJFVHFVBUEFVJV IM BEGGINGGGG

[malk1ns]

you can find the fic tropes mashup game here! i am still taking prompts, btw—either from this list or of anything else! just don’t be shocked if it takes me months to get to them 😂

love these prompts together 🥰

75. Bed Sharing

97. Sleep Intimacy

As soon as Zhenya sees the hit, he slips out of the press box and makes his way down to the locker room.

Mario beats him there, but only just—he’s running his hand through his hair when Zhenya rounds the corner and almost smacks into him.

“No, Geno,” Mario says, holding his hand up when Zhenya immediately opens his mouth to protest. “You know they won’t let you near him until they can confirm he’s…safe.”

Zhenya presses his lips together. “He’s not do anything,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “You know. That’s not…”

Mario sighs. “I know. I agree. But that kid’s an omega. It’s league policy. If anyone found out I let you in there after he just practically threw an omega into the boards, there’d be a riot. The game’s basically over, Geno. Just go home. I’m sure this will get resolved quickly.”

—

It’s not resolved quickly.

Zhenya wakes up the next day to the alert—Sid’s been put on mandatory rest for one game. The statement’s language is coy, but by now Zhenya can read between the lines, even though PR spin may as well be yet another foreign language; someone with the League determined that Sid’s experiencing breakthrough rut, and he’s too dangerous to be on the ice.

Bullshit.

Anybody who’s been on the team for a season with Sidney Crosby knows what he looks like, how he acts, when he’s careening towards rut. Zhenya’s been around for sixteen years. That wasn’t Sid mistiming his pills and manhandling the first omega that got in his way.

Zhenya goes to the rink for his workout and meeting with the medical staff. Everyone’s happy with how he’s progressing, making noises about him maybe being ready by Christmas, but the team’s doing ok, and Zhenya’s determined to not rush this—he doesn’t want to think he’s ready and end up hurting himself again.

The gym session feels a little lonely, a little quiet without Sid constantly yapping in his ear, critiquing his form and gossiping about players from other teams. Zhenya tries not to think about it. He’ll have to get used to finishing his rehab alone.

After he’s done for the day and showered, he mooches around the player’s lounge for a while hoping to pick up on some gossip about Sid, but nobody seems to quite know what’s going on. Kris tracks Zhenya down as soon as he’s out of the PK’s video review session, but neither of them quite know what to say. It’s obviously shit, and they both know it.

Kris shrugs after a few minutes of pointless, but cathartic, bitching about the refs and the league and how Bettman’s had it out for Sid from day one, how they’ve been just waiting for anything they could call a slip-up to put him on the shelf. “And you know he’s driving himself crazy, stuck at home,” Kris says leadingly, eyeing Zhenya.

Zhenya sighs. “I know, I’m already go today. Mario says last night I can’t see him, but…”

Kris rolls his eyes. “Stupid. He’s not going to hurt you, even if we’re wrong and they’re right.”

Zhenya preens a little. “No, of course I’m best for Sid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kris says, knocking their shoulders together. “Go, then. I’ll settle the boys down, you tend to the captain. Make sure he’s not clawing his way through the walls.”

—

Zhenya thinks about texting that he’s coming over, but he figures Sid would try to talk him out of it, so he just drives straight there after practice, punching in the gate code and parking haphazardly in Sid’s driveway without announcing himself.

He eyes the Nova Scotia flag fluttering over the front door fondly while he fumbles through his keyring for Sid’s spare, then lets himself in. At least Sid hasn’t turned the flag upside down.

“Sid,” Zhenya calls, kicking his shoes off to the side. “Sid, you have food? So hungry, they’re not have anything good for lunch today.”

The house is quiet for a minute, and then Sid comes thundering down the stairs. He looks frantic, wild-eyed with messy hair. “Geno?” he says, half a question, his voice breathy.

“Hi, Sid,” Zhenya says, a little bemused. Sid rarely looks so disheveled even when he first wakes up—Zhenya privately hates him for it just a little—but right now he’s flushed and messy, a little dazed and unfocused as he steps—way too close, their chests are practically brushing.

Zhenya takes a step back. Sid follows.

“Did you say you were hungry?” Sid asks, tilting his head up, eyes darting back and forth. “I can—I made lunch earlier, way too much of it, I don’t know why I—anyway, there’s a ton leftover, if you want? Or, if you don’t want pasta, I could make you chicken, or those omelets you like, or—” He’s talking faster and faster, tripping over his words, leaning forward like he wants to press his whole body against Zhenya’s.

Zhenya grabs his upper arms, holding him steady, and it’s a good thing, because Sid sways alarmingly just as he does so, nostrils flaring like he’s trying to get more air. “Sid, calm down, whatever you make is fine. You’re not look so good, you go lie down and I’ll—”

“No!” Sid bursts out, looking just as startled as Zhenya feels by the volume. “No, I’m fine. You—go into the living room, I’ll heat it up for you, okay? It’s better if—I need you to just let me.” He pulls free from Zhenya’s grip and runs a hand through his hair.

Zhenya wants to protest, because something about Sid is not fine, but Sid looks so jittery, like he’s half a second away from physically handling Zhenya into the living room (Zhenya does not think about that), so he nods and makes his way to the living room, sitting in his usual corner of Sid’s outrageously comfortable couch and looking around.

Everything looks the same—no sign that Sid’s been pacing and fussing with his things like he did during his concussion, and nothing banged up or broken like you’d expect from an alpha in rut who didn’t have an omega to spend himself into.

sid fine, he texts Kris. we right, league doctor so stupid.

He wants to wait for a reply, but the sound of dishes clattering announces Sid’s arrival, so he puts his phone in do not disturb and sets it on the coffee table.

Sid rounds the edge of the couch, balancing two plates and a mug. “I heated up the pasta I made, and then I remembered I had some of that tea you brought left still, so I made that—I hope I did it right, you’ll have to tell me if I messed it up, I can make more—and then there was still some ice cream cake from the Halloween party, and I remembered you liked it a lot, so I—you did like it, right?” He looks at Zhenya anxiously, chewing on his lip.

Zhenya reaches and carefully extracts the mug from where it’s threatening to slip out of Sid’s grip. “Yes,” he says cautiously, taking a sip—it‘s perfect. “I do like, but you like too, is why you steal whole extra cake after party, so you should—”

“You should have it, then,” Sid says in a rush, setting both plates on the coffee table and dragging it closer so Zhenya can reach. “I mean, you probably won’t want all of it now.“ He pauses, looking doubtful. “Do you?”

Zhenya has to laugh. “No, can’t have whole cake for lunch, trainers get mad, say I’m too fat for skate. Thank you, Sid.” Sid’s apparently made that cheesy pasta that Zhenya loves more than almost any food in the world that isn’t his mama’s cooking; Sid rarely makes it, claiming that neither of them need that much cholesterol at their age, so Zhenya’s not sure what prompted him to make it today, and in such vast quantities, but he won’t complain.

He digs in happily, trying to ignore Sid’s eyes on his face as he chews.

“I’m glad you came over,” Sid says, when Zhenya’s pushing the empty plate away and eyeing the piece of cake. Sid had cut him a truly enormous slice. “I’ve—I wanted to call you last night, but Mario said that I couldn’t, not after the league decided I—well, it’s stupid, they’re wrong, that’s not what’s happening, but I didn’t want to…scare you, or anything.”

Zhenya reaches for the tea and takes a drink. “Not scare,” he replies. “Just worry a little. Don’t usually do that, like, get so angry on ice. What’s happening?” He watches Sid out of the corner of his eye, noting how tightly Sid’s gripping his own leg.

Sid’s silence feels significant. “It’s…I’m sure it will pass,” he finally says unconvincingly. “Hey, eat your cake before it melts.”

After Zhenya’s done, and vaguely regretting the cake for how full he feels, Sid won’t let him help clean up. Then, he forces blankets on Zhenya until Zhenya feels practically swaddled on his end of the couch.

It’s when Sid hands over the remote and insists that Zhenya pick what they watch that suspicion starts to build.

He’s seen teammates act like this before. Kris had been borderline intolerable right after Alex was born, his fussy caretaking spilling out onto the team, too.

But that’s impossible. Zhenya would surely notice if…

He flinches. It’s something he doesn’t let himself think about, hasn’t for years. He’s not going to start now just because Sid is acting a little strange.

“Are you okay?” Sid asks immediately, scooting closer on the couch. When Zhenya looks at him, his eyes are bright and focused. “Are you cold?”

“No, Sid,” Zhenya groans, tilting his head back so he doesn’t have to look at Sid’s face, so utterly honed in on him. It’s too much. “Am so warm, like, it’s so many blankets. Makes me sleepy.”

Sid doesn’t reply; Zhenya can feel him fussing with the edge of one of the blankets, tugging it out towards himself and then tucking it back closer to Zhenya’s body. “You can nap,” he finally says, voice soft. “Neither of us have anywhere to be.”

Zhenya wants to protest. He should leave, before whatever mood Sid is in pushes him into saying or doing something he shouldn’t. But he had a lot to eat, and Sid’s couch is really comfortable…maybe he’ll just close his eyes for a little.

—

He wakes to a hand splayed over his belly, rubbing gently, and a hot body plastered up against his back.

Sid had somehow gotten them both stretched out on the couch without waking Zhenya up, and now he’s spooning up against him, nose tucked into the crook of Zhenya’s neck.

Zhenya thinks he might be dreaming still, one of the soft warm dreams he has whenever he approaches heat that always leave him achingly lonely when he wakes, but Sid’s breath is damp on his skin, and one of his arms is tingling and numb. He keeps his eyes firmly closed just in case, though.

Sid’s hand moves up a little, resting over his chest. “You’re awake, aren’t you?” he says softly, pressing down over Zhenya’s heart. “I can feel—I could tell when you woke up.”

“Mmm,” Zhenya says, pressing back a little against Sid’s solid body. “Sid, you—what’s happen?” His heart rate picks up, and he can tell when Sid notices, because Sid sighs against his neck and cradles him closer, resuming the soothing petting motions.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tangling their legs together. “I didn’t—I thought that if I spent this stupid game rest away from you, I could stop it, but I think it’s too late.”

“Stop what, Sid?” Zhenya asks, arching his back a little. Sid’s hand feels so good on him, and his mouth is right over Zhenya’s neck, and he’s been scenting Zhenya, the whole room smells of it, of them, and Zhenya can feel himself start to get wet in response.

Sid notices that, too, if his sharp intake of breath is any indication. “It’s…” He swallows, loud in Zhenya’s ear, like his mouth is watering. Zhenya bites on his own tongue to keep from whimpering. “It’s a bond. I think it started while we were doing rehab. Seeing you hurt, trying to help you, all the time we spent while the team was practicing and traveling…I didn’t mean it, but it started. And then I started to play again, but you weren’t there, and that kid was being such a brat, he was saying all this stuff he had no right to say to me, and—” He cuts himself off, spreading his fingers over Zhenya’s chest. “I’m not in rut.”

“I know that,” Zhenya says, a little affronted. “I see, like, two hundred times before.” Sid’s hard, Zhenya can feel it when he shifts. He wiggles in Sid’s hold.

“Stop,” Sid groans out, his grip going solid on Zhenya’s torso. His voice is halfway to an alpha growl, and it makes Zhenya want to bare his neck and spread his legs. “God, G, you can’t—I can feel that, I can feel when you’re thinking—we need to talk about this. I didn’t mean to do it, and if you want we can break it before it gets to you, but…” He opens his mouth over Zhenya’s neck, just a little, and this time Zhenya doesn’t hold back the sound he makes. “Is this—do you actually want this, or is this just—”

“Stupid,” Zhenya mutters, thrashing in Sid’s grip, trying to turn so they’re face-to-face. Sid holds him firm, though, and Zhenya shivers in his grip, finally going limp, docile like his instincts are screaming at him too. “Is not just…instinct, react. It’s…I’m never say, never think about because it’s crazy, you know, you’re never want this before but…well, I think about sometimes.”

Sid’s tongue on his neck is a slow wet drag. “When is sometimes?”

Zhenya tilts his head as far to the side as he can. His teeth itch, and his mouth is watering too. “Like, I have heat-dream sometime, it's always you,” he gets out, gasping when Sid rewards him by sneaking his hand up his shirt, skin-on-skin. “And, sometimes when I’m awake, even if I’m…I think, it’s better if it’s you.”

Sid slides his hand over Zhenya’s chest, thumbing at his nipple until he squirms. “Me too,” he says softly. “I’d bring someone home and close my eyes and picture you.” He bites at the base of Zhenya’s neck, just a tease, not enough to leave a mark of any kind, but Zhenya wants, and the scrape of teeth is enough to trip him over into begging.

“Shhh, baby,” Sid hushes him, petting soothingly down his torso, down and down until he can slip his hand into Zhenya’s sweatpants. “I’ll take care of you. Let me?”

“Yes, anything, please,” Zhenya gasps, as Sid’s hand closes around his dick and his teeth close around the nape of his neck.

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this, and all my other prompt fills (and a few other snippets!) are here on ao3 :)