#sid Crosby omega confirmed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

malk1ns · 2 years

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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.

—————————

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

#my fic #my writing #sidgeno #hockey rpf #a/b/o #drabble challenge

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hazel3017 · 7 years

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It's totally cool with first female! Sid in the NHL! But what do you think about the fact that it doesn't matter wether your female or male, just as long as you're an alpha you're the in NHL? So first omega in the NHL Sidney Crosby? Obviously if you don't like it it's completely understood, I liked the gender swap one you did:))

So, like, first ever omega in the NHL Sidney Crosby is a Big Deal™ for a long, long time. It’s still a big deal, tbh, even with Stamkos and Tavares and Subban and Seguin and McDavid and Marner and all the ones that followed after, because of the fight Sidney fought for them, because of the road he paved with sweat and tears and blood and sheer will and determination alone.

There’s been a thousand times, more even, over the last decade or so where Sid could have quit, where he thought maybe he should have, and he didn’t. Because that would be the easy way out, and if nothing else, Sidney Crosby never did things the easy way unless it was also the right way.

(The two rarely intersect.)

Sidney is not the only omega on the team anymore. He was though, for years. It was a learning experience more for the alphas than himself.

He’s still laughing at the amount of self-censoring they did that first year, trying to figure out how to reconcile the player on the ice – who was better than all of them, cause that was never in doubt, not ever, not even for his most vicious of hater – with the idea they had of what an omega was; delicate, fragile, someone infinitely breakable.

Sidney hardly had any lovers his first two seasons; his alpha teammates scared them all away, guarding Sid’s virtue like dragons hoarding gold and precious stones. He didn’t care enough to fight them on it then, too busy with hockey and, later, Geno. Besides, it was hilarious watching Knighter and Best Kessel in their high heels and delicate dresses loom over whichever alpha was trying to chat him up.

It took his teammates a while to realise that but for his ability to bear children, Sid wasn’t much different from them. Instinct is a hard thing to break, though, as are years long habits. But they did it, for him.

Sid will always love them for it, unreservedly. There are still incidents, misconceptions and miscommunications, but they learn from it and they move on.

Hardly anyone gives Sidney a hard time about being an omega anymore. They make up less than 10% of the league, but the few of them that are there are noticeable. And good. They’re all so very good.

When the Penguins win their third Cup in the cap era, Sidney is nearly three months pregnant. They’ve kept it quiet, a secret just for the two of them, even though Geno is a terrible secret keeper, and is constantly breaking into smiles whenever he looks at Sidney. He’s a tactile guy normally, and it’s even worse now, always touching Sidney, finger reaching for him almost automatically. Geno drags him into the gravitational pull of his orbit until Sid is never more than a touch away; Geno settles his hand on the small of his back, or rests them over Sid’s still flat stomach, possessive and protective in equal measure. He holds Sidney’s hip, guiding him this way or that way.

It’s nothing new, really, but Flower notices. Phil and Amanda notice, Kuni, Tanger, Dales.

(Knighter is oblivious, but she always is about these things.)

They see Sid and Geno coming out of Dr. Vyas’ office, all smiles, and they suspect. Sidney knows they do, but he doesn’t want to confirm it just yet. He’s pregnant, and that’s just for Sid and Geno right now.

When they break the news after their Cup win and announce that Sidney will miss the next season, he is expecting the outrage. He’s prepared for it, he’s got his facts ready; Sidney was perfectly safe playing until his 12th week of pregnancy, the baby was perfectly safe, nestled inside his bony pelvis and hidden behind his hockey armour. If there had been any danger, whatsoever, Sidney would have ceased playing.

He’d never risk losing his child.

There is outrage, but not really for the reason Sidney was expecting.

Why, people wonder, after eleven years, is Sidney Crosby the first omega to announce he is expecting? Why have there been no babies before now?

There’s talk about omegas pressured into abortions by team officials or even their own teammates; there’s talk of miscarriages, of omegas being too scared to lose their roster spots to even disclose their pregnancies.

Tyler Seguin alone could have given birth three times over, Sidney learns, and he cries when he finds out.

There is no paternity leave in the NHL, not even for the birthing parent. There is no pregnancy clauses that protects an omega’s right to have children.

Pregnancy doesn’t fall under the category of injury, but the Penguins have already agreed to give Sidney a special leave of absence.

“Of course you can take time off to have the baby, Sidney,” Mario had said, and Jim had nodded in the background as if anything else was utterly inconceivable to him.

Not every team would grant an omega the same privilege.

Sidney can’t abide by that. He just can’t. And he fought to become the first omega in the NHL, he fought to stay there, fought to be recognised for the talent that he is so that those who came after him wouldn’t have to fight the same battles. He’s a fighter. He’s been fighting almost all his life, it’s what he does, so he’s going to fight now too. He’s going to war and he’s going to win.

Failure is not an option.

“I’m going to sue the NHL,” he tells Geno one morning before training camp. He’s six month pregnant now, is sporting a very noticeable baby bump, and is so bored without hockey he hardly knows what to do with himself. “I want them to adopt paternity leave and include more omega rights.”

Geno raises his brows. “Okay,” he says. “Need help?”

Sidney sputters. “You’re not gonna stop me? You don’t think this is a bad idea?”

“Why bad idea? Should have right. Have different need than alpha, so make sense.”

Sidney is honestly so in love with Geno he struggles to breathe around it sometimes. “Right. I’m gonna go call Pat and get this thing started.”

Geno nods agreeably, presses a kiss to Sidney’s temple, and says, “I’m be at practice if you need me. Love you, go kick NHL butt.”

Which, obviously.

#Anonymous #fic stuff #my fic #the russian bully and his canadian captain #mpreg #omega!sid #no alteration needed

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