Holiday Weekends Prompt Snippets!

[rsadelle]

I didn't cobble together enough holiday spirit to send cards this year, I'm feeling a little stuck on my current writing projects, and I have a few days off for holidays this week and next week, so it seems like a good time to do prompt snippets.

Leave me a prompt by the end of the day Saturday and I will write you something by the evening of January 4. (If there are a lot of prompts or circumstances change, posting may extend beyond this date.)

Fine print/guidelines: One per person. Lurkers and anonymous commenters welcome. If you're posting anonymously because you don't have an LJ account but I know you elsewhere and you leave me your name, I will do my best to write something catered to your tastes. Generally first come first served, although things may jump the queue depending on inspiration and what can be written at work. I will write hockey, but not Patrick Kane, Drew Doughty, or the Avalanche. I may write other fandoms; feel free to ask if you want something else. I may veer from your prompt. I will take lyric prompts, but be forewarned that I'm not necessarily good at them. This is for new story ideas, not sequels or timestamps. I make no promises about length, but in the past prompt snippets have tended to be 300-3000 words.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

AGally/BPrust(/Maripier Morin?), setting boundaries and public displays

(Hi! I got here from tumblr, where I'm asimplecord.)

Let Your Skin Talk To My Soul (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Title from Randy Rogers Band's "Kiss Me In The Dark." Source citations in the endnotes.

Also on AO3 (I didn't know if you have an AO3 account. If you do, I can link it as gifted to you.)


"Careful," Maripier says. "You're going to leave beard burn."

"I'm not going to leave beard burn."

"Yes, you are." Maripier cups her hand around Alex's jaw and repositions his face. "You're still getting used to this thing."

Alex changes his approach, both to what he's doing to Brandon's neck and to the argument he's making. "I don't see why I can't leave beard burn."

"Not where people are going to see it." Maripier runs her hand along the line of Alex's beard and over his cheek.

"What if I want people to know he's taken?"

"They know he's taken." Maripier runs her fingers through Alex's hair. "By me."

"You know, as much as I appreciate that you want to fight over me," Brandon says. "Can you get back to what you were doing before? You know, the part where you were touching me?"

"No," Maripier and Alex both say.

Maripier eyes Brandon, and then she tugs Alex up and kisses him. Alex is softer with her, careful not to give her beard burn the same way Brandon is when he kisses her.

Brandon cranes his head up to follow the motion, then makes a frustrated noise and thumps his head down onto the pillow. If they want to make him wait, there's nothing he can do about it but wait.

*

"That's not fair," Alex says.

Maripier looks up. "What's not fair?"

"Last time, you tell me I can't leave beard burn, but now you are giving him a hickey."

"You can't leave beard burn," Maripier says. "You didn't try to give him a hickey."

Alex eyes her suspiciously. "So I could leave a hickey."

Maripier shrugs and kisses Brandon's neck without looking away from Alex. "Sure. If you wanted to."

"Not above my collar," Brandon says. "Either of you. I don't need to explain that to the media."

"Don't want all of Montreal to know your girlfriend's a biter?" Maripier closes her teeth over the think skin of his neck.

Brandon shudders and tries to bare his neck a little more. "You don't want to answer those questions either."

"I guess not." Maripier licks over the place where she wasn't biting hard enough to give him a hickey.

"But lower," Alex says, his voice rough and eyes dark. "We can leave them lower."

Brandon swallows hard. "Yeah," he says. "You can leave them lower."

He ends up with three. Maripier leaves the one just below his collarbone; Alex leaves the one on the inside of his upper arm and the one on his hip. They're all hidden by his clothes.

[celtprincess13.livejournal.com]

Danny/Claude, stuck in a blizzard (preferably not sad, if possible)

[rsadelle]

Hi. I've been thinking about this, but Danny really falls under the no Avalanche rule for me now, so I'm sorry, but I'm not going to write this one. I would still love to write you something if you want to leave a prompt about someone else! (And I know I said today was the deadline for prompts, but if you need a couple of days to think of something else, that's cool.)

[dine.livejournal.com]

something focused on Carts/Ritchie - can include RL SOs if you want. just them being weirdly codependent (as they are)

That's What Friends Are For (1/4)

[rsadelle]

By the way, thank you for the holiday card! It was the first one I got, and it made me happy to have it on my windowsill all season.

Also on AO3


Mike shows up unannounced with Arnold in tow and asks, "Want to walk down to the beach?" when Jeff answers the door.

"Sure," Jeff says. "Let me get Mack and Miley." He lets Mike in, and Mike and Arnold hang around the entryway while Jeff rounds up the dogs, kisses Megan, and clips leashes onto Mack and Miley's collars.

Mack races ahead, of course, with Arnold right behind him and Miley ambling along leisurely. Jeff ambles along leisurely too, and Mike's pace is leisurely, but he's clearly tense about something.

Jeff lets it be; Mike can't ever keep shit to himself for that long, and he'll probably spill before they head back to the house.

The dogs aren't allowed on the beach itself, but Mike and Jeff turn down the jogging path and let the dogs pull them along.

Mike heaves out a giant sigh when he's ready to talk, like he needs to get Jeff's attention. Jeff tips his head a little in Mike's direction to show he's listening.

"Do you think I should propose to Lindsey over Christmas?" It's kind of a whine, not a happy question at all.

Jeff stops, pulls them to the side of the path where they can sit down on a bench. He sits down. Mike practically falls down onto it.

"Do you want to propose to her?"

"No," Mike says. "I mean, I love her, but no."

"Then don't," Jeff advises.

Mike sighs again. "It feels like I'm supposed to."

Jeff looks at him - since when does Mike use that as a metric for how he should run his personal life? - and pats his knee. "Is this because Kopi's having a kid?"

Mike makes a face. Bingo.

"You got married," Mike says. "Kopi's having a kid. Quickie and Brownie have kids. Kinger had a kid last season. Toff's pretty serious about Taylore. I think Pears is dating someone he's serious about."

Jeff didn't know that last part. "Pears is seeing someone?"

"Everyone's seeing someone," Mike says, irritated.

Jeff holds up his hand. "Right, not the point. You're seeing Lindsey."

"Yeah," Mike says with a sigh. "But it doesn't feel like the same thing."

Jeff asks, "Does it have to?" and stands up so they can keep walking.

Mike doesn't answer his question until they've turned back and are almost to the place where they have to leave the path to walk up to the house. "I don't want to be that weird guy who can't get his shit together."

Jeff hmms. They're a block away from the beach when he tells Mike, "The first time Megan and I talked about getting married was when we were deciding if she was going to move out here. It doesn't have to be a one-time conversation." He nudges Mike with an elbow. "And you don't have to propose if you don't want to."

*

Mike comes back from Canada unengaged, so Jeff supposes he took his advice. He does come back happy to have seen Lindsey, so at least it went well.

[cametosmash.livejournal.com]

T2! I'm stealing ideas off Tumblr for AU prompts, so any of the following that strikes your fancy (I think I know what one will, hehe):

- seated together at a family-style restaurant and everyone thinks they’re a couple already AU
- met in the veterinarian’s waiting room AU
- took your suitcase from the airport baggage claim on accident AU

Post is here (http://moonwasours.tumblr.com/post/97096197875/more-au-ideas-for-your-otp-nervous-flyer-and). If you see one on the post you like more, feel free to go ahead and choose that instead! I just want something sweet :)

Midsummer Beginning (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Also on AO3

Kayla stands up and whines when a guy rushes through the door of the vet clinic. Tyler registers the guy's tone but misses whatever he says to the receptionist because he runs his hands over Kayla's back. "It's okay. Come on, girl, it's fine."

Kayla settles back down onto the floor with a soft whine, but she keeps her head up, watching for danger.

The guy who rushed through the door has a pair of dogs with him, one on a leash and the other cradled in his arms. They're not small dogs, but the guy doesn't even seem to notice the effort of hanging on to both of them. Not that he would with those arm muscles.

"Have a seat," the receptionist tells the guy. "Dr. Miller will be with you in just a few minutes." Then she raises her voice a little and says, "Tyler and Kayla, I'm going to have to push you back a bit for this."

"Yeah, okay," Tyler says.

The guy turns around and looks at Tyler, and, well, that explains the muscles at least. NHL superstars have to stay in shape.

"Shit, man," Tyler Seguin says. "I wouldn't, but Cash ate a wasp or something and we're both freaking out. Aren't we, baby?" He actually babytalks to his dog, and the dog whines at him like he knows what he's saying.

"Nah, it's cool," Tyler says. "I didn't have plans today." He waves at the empty chair next to him, inviting Seguin to sit.

Seguin smiles at him, and, well, NHL superstars have to have good smiles too. "I'm Tyler. This one is Cash, and the one who knows better than to eat things that will sting him is Marshall."

"Also Tyler," Tyler says. "This is Kayla."

Kayla and Marshall sniff at each other, and Tyler holds out a hand to Marshall once he decides Kayla's okay.

"He'll probably be fine," Tyler says. "Kayla's done that, and she turned out all right." He rubs Kayla's sides.

"But he's so miserable," Seguin says. He bends over and nuzzles his nose against Cash's. It's cute.

Tyler reaches over and lets Cash sniff his hand before he carefully pets Cash's head. "Poor puppy. How old is he?"

"Not quite a year."

"Still a baby."

"Yeah," Seguin says with a smile that's soft and warm and does something to Tyler's insides. "Marshall's my big boy. He's three."

Tyler smiles at him. "Still pretty young." He pats Kayla. "This one's getting up there. She's ten already."

"Wow," Seguin says. He looks like he's going to say something else, but then the door to the back opens.

A woman with a chihuahua comes out and the woman in scrubs says, "Tyler and Cash?"

Tyler's being nice to a guy who's obviously feeling frazzled, but Seguin is also a hot guy with a pair of cute dogs and Tyler's heard rumors about him, so he can't say his motives are completely pure when he offers to watch Marshall while Dr. Miller looks at Cash.

Seguin hesitates. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Tyler says. "We're going to be waiting until you're done anyway, might as well let Marshall chill with us."

"You be a good boy," Seguin admonishes Marshall, and then he gives Marshall's leash to Tyler and follows the vet tech into the office.

Marshall whines a little when the door closes behind Seguin.

"Don't worry, buddy," Tyler says. "We're just gonna hang until they're done."

Can't currently log in right now - ilovealistair

[(Anonymous)]

'I live next door and just burned my holiday turkey; I know you smell my failure. Do you happen to have a spot for me at your table?’ - Alex O/Sid - preferably with Alex burning the food

Change of Plan (1/5)

[rsadelle]

I wrote you a non-AU version of this. I hope you like it!

Also on AO3


The turkey does not look good. No, the turkey looks terrible. By far the worst result of any of Alex's attempts at cooking.

Next to him, Zhenya swears.

"This was your idea," Alex reminds him. "I was happy to order pizza, but you're the one who wanted to make an American Thanksgiving dinner."

"Pizza places aren't open on Thanksgiving."

"You're Evgeni Malkin," Alex says, making his voice go awed over Zhenya's name. "Someone in Pittsburgh would have opened for you."

"And you're Alex Ovechkin," Zhenya says, sharp over Alex's name. "They would have closed when they saw you coming."

Alex barks out a laugh, and then returns to his solemn consideration of the ruined turkey. "We're not eating this." He takes the pan out of the oven and leaves it on the counter to cool off before they throw it out.

Zhenya looks unbearably sad; it gets to Alex even though he knows it has to be at least half faked to make him feel guilty.

"Grocery stores aren't open on Thanksgiving either," Alex says, apologetic.

Zhenya sighs heavily.

"There must be somewhere we can go," Alex says. "Someone on your team must be doing a team thing." He doesn't know for sure, but he got three invitations from guys on his team; surely Zhenya had offers for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Sid was going to have a few guys over," Zhenya says.

Alex beams at him. Crashing Crosby's Thanksgiving sounds even better than successfully making their own.

Zhenya narrows his eyes at Alex, but then he sighs and takes out his phone. He switches to English and tells Crosby, "Have friend for Thanksgiving, but friend burn turkey."

Alex watches Zhenya smile and say, "Thank you, Sid. We bring sides and pie."

Alex can hear Crosby protesting, something about too much pie, before Zhenya hangs up on him.

Between the two of them, they manage to bundle the sides and pie out to Zhenya's car in one trip, and then up to Crosby's porch in one trip.

Crosby smiles when he opens the door and greets Zhenya, and then his eyes narrow suspiciously. "Ovechkin."

"Hi, Sid," Alex says cheerfully. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Neither of us actually celebrate American Thanksgiving," Crosby says. To Zhenya he says, "I wouldn't have invited you if I'd known who your 'friend' was."

Alex sets down his armful of containers in the kitchen and throws an arm around Crosby's shoulders. "Sid, you hurt my feelings." He smacks a kiss onto Crosby's temple. "Know you thankful I'm here."

"Not even a little bit," Crosby says, but he laughs a little when he pushes away from Alex. He offers them both beer or wine - Alex takes a beer; Zhenya tries the red wine Crosby is enthusiastic about - and takes them into the living room where there are a bunch of other hockey players spread out over couches and chairs.

"Guys, you know Ovechkin. This is Beau, Borts, Olli, Brandon, and Taylor and Connor."

Alex recognizes Crosby and Zhenya's teammates, and Crosby's sister. Connor is the only one he doesn't know. Zhenya's teammates greet him with varying levels of chirping about inviting himself over, and Taylor gets up to give him a hug.

"Littlest Crosby," Alex says, just to see her grin over at him. "It's been so long. Haven't seen you since Vegas." He waggles his eyebrows at her.

"Stop flirting with my sister," Crosby says.

Taylor is the one who laughs. "Chill out, Sidney." She gives Alex a brief hug and sits down again, snuggled up to Connor. She's a brave woman if she brought her boyfriend to visit with a bunch of hockey players. Unless he is a hockey player.

"Yes," Alex says, "chill out, Sidney."

Crosby sighs like he's annoyed, and then shakes his head at Alex, clearly more amused than anything else. "We're eating in ten minutes. Borts, get your feet off the coffee table."

[(Anonymous)]

ANYTHING AGALLY/PRUST!!! preferably w unconscious yearning/UST on agally's part and mixed feelings on prust's part.

Usually Scuffling (1/2)

[rsadelle]

Also on AO3

Brandon gets one elbow over Alex's shoulder, has his other hand fisted in Alex's shirt. It's good practice, for all that Alex isn't an experienced fighter.

Alex pushes at Brandon's shoulder with the hand that's not grabbing at Brandon's shirt. Brandon holds firm and doesn't let Alex push him away, keeps Alex within his reach and ducks Alex's attempt at a blow.

There's chirping that gets them into this, but by this point, they're just grappling silently, huff of their breath the only sound that passes between them.

They're stalemated for a moment, eying each other, waiting to see who's going to make a move.

Brandon breathes in and out, looks at Alex, the momentary stillness and the slight smile on his face. It's one of those moments that make his heart skip a beat. He could press forward, surprise Alex out of the fight. He doesn't think Alex would stop him if he kissed him.

Alex lets go of Brandon's shoulder and goes for his side, and the moment passes.

*

Brandon stalks Alex across his hotel room.

Alex is laughing as he backs away, moves slowly toward the door.

It's going to end in another scuffle, but this part is fun too.

"You think you can get away from me?"

"I'm a lot faster than you," Alex says.

"On the ice maybe," Brandon admits. On the ice, definitely. But they're not on the ice. "Maybe not here." He darts forward and gets Alex pinned against the entryway wall.

Alex laughs and struggles against him.

Alex has an inch and a couple of pounds on him, but Brandon knows how to hold steady, easier when he isn't on the ice and has friction on his side. He keeps Alex against the wall, adjusting his grip, hand on Alex's shoulder, other arm fending off Alex's attempts to push him away.

Alex doesn't stop laughing, and Brandon's grinning the whole time.

Brandon pushes in closer, body to body with Alex. Alex's laughter softens to a smile, and Brandon's eyes dip down toward his lips.

"Prusty, are you coming to dinner?" P.K.'s question is asked as he pushes through the propped open door to Brandon's room.

Brandon pushes Alex against the wall one more time before he steps back. "Yeah, I'm coming. Just had to teach Chucky a lesson first."

*

They win in overtime, which is two points, but not enough of a victory midseason for anyone to organize a real celebration. It's a bunch of joyful shouting in the locker room, interviews and post-game workouts, and then guys going home to their own families or out in small groups.

Brandon catches Alex's elbow in the hall. Neither one of them got a point, but Alex had a good game, and Brandon tells him that.

"Could have been better," Alex says with a shrug.

Brandon throws his arm around Alex's shoulder. "We got the win."

"Yeah," Alex says, and he smiles a little.

Brandon's too familiar with acting natural in the face of someone he has something of a crush on to let his breath catch. He stays close, though, smiling back at Alex. "Let's go get a drink, if your family's not waiting for you."

"No, they went home." Alex puts his arm around Brandon's back. "You have to buy me a drink."

They're so close, and Brandon's smile doesn't feel like it's going anywhere. "Yeah," he says, leaning closer, "I'll buy you a drink."

"You're buying?" Gally throws one arm around Brandon's shoulders and one around Alex's. "I'm in."

[orangetard.livejournal.com]

anything mpreg,preferably very angsty(like those ___ gets pregnant but thinks they're not in an actual relationship so angst angst angst. ___ can choose to have the baby or get an abortion. any pairing is fine but I would prefer PK/Carey(do you do PK/Carey?if you don't I'm fiiine with anything)

hearts have gone cold (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Content Warning: Abortion.

Title from Fitz and The Tantrums' "Fools Gold."

Also on AO3

"Oh, fucking yes," P.K. says. "Yeah, Pricey, baby, that's so good."

It was, and they'd hooked up enough times that Carey was used to listening to P.K.'s babbling when they fucked without taking it too seriously.

Carey was a little bigger than P.K., but he didn't feel it like this, with P.K. on him and in him. On his hands and knees because it's easier not to look for things he knows he won't find in P.K.'s face this way.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," P.K. says, and Carey shoves just that much harder back onto his dick.

P.K. always makes Carey come first like this, fucking into him a few more times after, when Carey's sensitive but still able to take it.

Carey sinks down onto the bed when P.K. pulls out of him, and P.K. flops down next to him a minute later.

"Man, that was great."

Carey can hear the smile P.K.'s sure to be wearing even though he has his head turned the other way. He mumbles something of an agreement.

P.K. throws an arm around him and smacks a kiss onto his shoulder. "The price is right, baby. The price is right."

Carey can't help laughing into the hotel pillow.

P.K. tightens the arm around him. "Whole world's going to know that when we bring back gold."

"This is only orientation camp," Carey says. "We haven't even been chosen for the team for sure."

"We will be," P.K. says.

*

"I've been really tired," Carey confesses to Dr. Lacroix during his medical eval on the first day of training camp. "For about the last week. I don't know if I'm coming down with something."

"Any other symptoms?" Dr. Lacroix asks him.

"Not really," Carey says.

Dr. Lacroix checks him out, says he seems fine and tells him to keep them informed if things change, and sends him off to do the rest of his physical testing.

There is another symptom, a new one, but Carey doesn't find out about it until the next day when he puts his pads on and the pressure of them against his chest is almost unbearable. Carey winces, but he's played through worse, and he forgets about it as he focuses on stopping shots and protecting his crease.

*

P.K. shows up at Carey's with food the first night of training camp. They don't do anything too stressful, jerk each other off in bed, and P.K. stays the night, leaving early in the morning to go home and change before going to the rink.

As much as Carey wants to take what he can get from P.K., he doesn't have the energy for anything other than that first night. At least training camp tires everyone out, so P.K. accepts his excuses without much fuss.

"Nah, it's all right," P.K. says with a grin. "I know you need to do your lone wolf thing sometimes."

It's not a lone wolf thing and more a not torturing himself with things he can't have thing, and also a he's so exhausted he can barely move thing, but Carey lets P.K. think what he wants.

[soul_cake_duck]

PK/Carey - rope and cowboy hats

Roped (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Content note: rope bondage and power dynamics.

Also on AO3

"Pricey!" P.K. answers the phone with the usual level of enthusiasm he brings to pretty much everything he does. "What's up, man?"

Carey has one last chance to back out, but it was P.K.'s idea in the first place, and this is why he called instead of texting. "I've been practicing my knots," he says. He curls his fingers around the rope neatly coiled on the counter. "I bought some softer rope."

He's trusting P.K. to remember that conversation, the time P.K. said, after Carey roped him in the driveway and pulled him into the house, "You gotta work on your knots, man."

"My knots are fine." Carey tugged on the rope to prove the point.

"You can't use the same knots on people that you use on cows." P.K. brought a hand up to Carey's rope. "You need a softer rope, too." It could have been just P.K. jawing as usual, but there was something in the look he gave Carey that suggested he meant it. Carey took it seriously, anyway.

"Yeah?" P.K. says now. "I'll be over in half an hour. How does that sound?"

"Yeah," Carey says. "That sounds good."

Half an hour lets him take his time getting dressed. Rodeo clothes, but not what he would wear to compete. What he would wear to a dance. Tight black jeans. Black button-down. Black vest. Red tie for a hint of color. The largest belt buckle he's ever won. His best black hat. Boots.

P.K. texts when he's on his way, so Carey knows when to go wait for him on the porch. Usually it's a game, P.K. trying to get up the driveway without getting caught and Carey staying hidden enough to try to surprise him. But not this time.

P.K. doesn't turn it into a game either. He gets out of his car and comes walking straight up the driveway. It gives Carey a few seconds to look at him before he's close enough to be roped. Dark wash jeans, probably designer, knowing P.K. Tight, white T-shirt that hugs his shoulders. High tops. City to Carey's country.

Carey's practiced enough with this rope - different weight than what he usually uses - that he starts twirling it while he's looking at P.K., and it's easy to get the rope down over P.K.'s shoulders as soon as he's close enough.

"Looks like you got me," P.K. says.

"Looks like." Carey pulls the rope tight, and keeps pulling P.K. toward him.

"Nice," P.K. says when he's standing on the porch in front of Carey looking him up and down.

Carey allows himself a bit of a smile. "Thanks. Come in." He opens the door and uses the rope to pull P.K. through it. That's usual, part of the game they play, but this time P.K. doesn't try to get out of it as soon as he's inside, and Carey doesn't make any move to take it off of him.

P.K.'s movement is awkward in a way it never is when he crouches down and takes off his shoes with Carey's rope still tight around his chest and arms. He looks up at Carey from the floor, slowly, all the way from the tip of his boots to the brim of his hat, and says, "Keep your boots on."

Carey nods jerkily. They're as clean as can be, and he would keep them on in the house if P.K. wanted him to even if they weren't.

[jazzish.livejournal.com]

i have decided! grumpy pregnant mike is too great a visual for me not to prompt it, and i know you'll write something wonderful. it can be as teeth-rottingly schmoopy as you want, and he can be with jeff or anze or alone (with the team being very protective of course) or whatever strikes your fancy!

and thank you for doing this <3 can't wait to read them all!

[lakeeffectgirl.livejournal.com]

Grumpy pregnant Mike!!!!!!

[(Anonymous)]

taylor hall/ryan whitney
skype dates

Stay In Touch (1/2)

[rsadelle]

Also on AO3

"How's it going in St. Louis?" Taylor's mouth twists around the city name.

Ryan shrugs. "It is what it is. Been hanging out with Biz." Ryan smirks. "He keeps saying he's going to take me out and get me laid."

Taylor predictably bristles at that. "Fuck him."

Ryan raises his eyebrows. "I don't think that was what he meant." He ignores Taylor's attempt to keep talking. "Are you going to let me see your dick, or what?"

"Not if you're going to talk about going to pick up with Biz."

"Big talk from a guy who can only get laid by relying on his name."

Taylor flips him off, and then adjusts the laptop so Ryan can see it when he takes his dick out.

"Yeah," Ryan says, "that's it."

"This isn't a free show," Taylor says, stilling his hand after a few strokes.

Ryan laughs and gets his dick out so they can jerk off together before the exhaustion of training camp sends him crashing into bed.

*

"This time difference is going to be a bitch," Ryan says.

"We'll figure it out," Taylor says with a shrug. Then he frowns. "You look tired."

Ryan has to cover a yawn before he can say, "Jet lag. It'll get better."

Taylor hmms. "You meet your team yet?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Just the coach and management. I'm supposed to meet everyone else tomorrow."

"I guess I should let you get some sleep," Taylor says.

"You should get your dick out," Ryan says, but he ruins it by yawning in the middle.

Taylor laughs softly. "Yeah, right. Get some sleep, babe. I'll get my dick out for you next time."

*

They don't have a regular schedule, exactly, but there are times of day that they tend to Skype. It's nowhere near any of those when Ryan finds out about Eakins getting fired. Get on Skype, Ryan texts Taylor. Whenever you can. I'll be here.

Taylor Skypes him later, looking haggard and older than his years. "Hey."

"Hey," Ryan says. "How you holding up?"

Taylor sighs, and looks miserable. "Maybe it is me," he says. "Maybe I'm the problem."

"Fuck that shit," Ryan says. And fuck this being a full day of travel away from Taylor shit too. "You're the best thing that team has."

"You don't know that," Taylor says, voice cracking.

"I do," Ryan says. "I was there for a while, remember. It's not your fault."

He pretends not to see the tears in Taylor's eyes, or the shaking of his shoulders when he covers his face with his hands.

"Baby," he says, gentle, after Taylor has looked away to wipe his eyes and looked back, "I love you." It's true, and they both know it, but he doesn't say it very often.

Taylor musters up half a smile for him, and then it drops away. "There's talk about trading me."

Ryan bites back both his opinion that it would be the Oilers' stupidest move to date and his opinion that it would be good for Taylor's career. "In the organization, or coming from outside?"

Taylor scrapes a hand over his face. "Outside, for now. I called my agent, though."

Ryan hmms for a second. "Well, if they trade you to Boston, you know you have a place to stay."

It surprises Taylor into a laugh that looks genuine.

Ryan grins at him. "My place is just sitting empty while I'm here. And my mom would probably cook for you."

Taylor laughs again. "Thanks." Ryan knows he means it for more than just the offer of the apartment.

[hypertwink.livejournal.com]

Geno's North American Christmas.

Christmas In Pittsburgh (1/2)

[rsadelle]

Many thanks to everyone on Twitter who contributed ideas for holiday activities you would find in a cheesy movie and to those who consulted on the proper topping for hot cocoa.

Also on AO3

"Sid, Sid," Geno says, "why you hate Christmas?"

"I don't hate Christmas," Sid says. "I just don't do much Christmassy stuff before I go home to see my family."

"Sad, sad life with no Christmas," Geno says mournfully.

Sid's protest that, "I celebrate Christmas!" doesn't do anything to make Geno stop looking at him pityingly.

And that's how Sid ends up trying to prove to Geno that he does, indeed, enjoy Christmas.

*

The first thing Sid does is take Geno skating.

"Sid," Geno says with a frown, "we already practice today."

"Not practice," Sid says. "Just skating. For fun."

"For fun?" Geno asks skeptically.

"Yes," Sid says. "It's an outdoor rink. It's all decorated and lit up for Christmas. It'll be fun." He holds out a handful of cloth. "I got you a toque and gloves and a scarf to wear."

"I have toque and gloves and scarf," Geno says.

"Just put them on," Sid says, "so we can go skating."

He's at least ninety percent sure Geno's laughing at him when he does what Sid says.

Geno's toque, gloves, and scarf have reindeer on them. They don't exactly match the ones Sid got for himself - penguins with Santa hats - but Sid bought them from the same place, and they sort of go together.

"Lost of Christmas," Geno comments.

"I told you I celebrate Christmas," Sid says. He even lets Geno change the radio in his car to a station full of Christmas carols.

It's a weeknight, so the rink isn't as crowded as it probably is on a weekend, although there are still plenty of families and couples skating around it.

"Really just skate," Geno says.

"I said so," Sid huffs. "I would just tell you if I wanted to practice. You're so suspicious."

"Sid go on ice," Geno says, "always want to practice."

"Not today," Sid says. "Come on." He tugs Geno onto the ice, and they join the flow of people skating circles around the rink.

A couple of people stop them to ask for autographs or pictures, but mostly they skate easy circles around the rink with occasional bursts of speed to race.

"This is fun, right?" Sid asks.

"Cold," Geno says, "but fun, yes." His cheeks are red with the cold.

Sid reaches up to tug Geno's toque a little farther down his forehead. "That's why we're bundled up."

"Yes," Geno says. He returns the favor by pulling Sid's scarf up around his chin. "Just like picture of Christmas in America."

Sid laughs, and that warms him up as much as anything else.

*

"Why I want to come to your sad no Christmas house?" Geno asks when Sid invites him over in another attempt to prove he has Christmas spirit.

"It's not sad! And I put up a tree."

"Oh, tree," Geno says. "All Christmas now."

Sid laughs. "It's decorated. You can come over and see for yourself."

"Yes, have to now," Geno says mock seriously. "Make sure Sid know what Christmas is."

"I know what Christmas is!" Sid says it again when he waves Geno into the living room where he set up the tree. "See? My house is not sad."

"Is a good tree," Geno admits, looking up at where it rises above both of them. "Like the lights."

Sid might have gone overboard with the lights, but if he's going to have a tree even though he's not home very much, he wants it to be bright.

"Bring me here just to look at tree?" Geno asks.

"No," Sid says. He goes to the kitchen and starts pouring the ingredients he measured out earlier into a saucepan. While they're heating up, he gets a tin out of the pantry. "Peppermint hot cocoa and Christmas cookies."

[7iris.livejournal.com]

AHHH, paralyzed with indecision! UM.

Prusty, PK, and/or Maripier compete to sexually ruin AGally.

Compete Level (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Also on AO3

Brandon scuffles with Alex, not on the ice - he already did that earlier - but in the hallway. It's one of their usual silent scuffles, the two of them trying to get at each other with their nearly equal reach, Brandon's greater fighting experience but Alex's youth.

Brandon gets one of his hands under Alex's shirt, pressed tight against his abs, and he grabs at Alex with the other, gets it around his back, just above his ass.

Alex pauses for the barest of moments, and then jerks away, tries to twist himself out of Brandon's grip, eyes wide and mouth open, breath coming fast and heavy.

Brandon makes sure to slide his hands over Alex before he lets him get away.

Brandon smirks at P.K. once Alex has moved away.

P.K. scoffs. "You don't get points for that. You do that all the time."

"That's worth at least ten points! I got under his shirt, and did you see his face when I had my hand on his ass?"

"That wasn't all the way on his ass," P.K. says. "Five points, maybe, for the shirt."

They text Maripier and then agree to split the difference at seven.

Brandon - 15, Maripier - 3, P.K. - 8

*

Alex's eyes go wide, and he sucks in breath, enough to be noticeable to everyone at the table.

"What?" Gally asks. He grabs for Alex's phone, and they wrestle for it.

"No," Alex says, almost shrill, and they can see him closing his hand around it, trying to block the screen.

Gally comes up triumphant, but only for a moment before Alex grabs his phone back, palm over the screen.

"Was that Snapchat?" Gally asks with a grin. "Is someone sending you pictures of tits?"

Alex throws an almost panicked glance at Brandon. Oh. Oh.

"Um."

"Not fair," Gally says. "I don't get pictures of tits."

There's a ripple of laughter around the table, and Mike says, "That's because you have no game."

"I do," Brandon says. He looks right at Alex while he says it. "I get great pictures."

Alex doesn't ever blush, but the look on his face is the equivalent of it.

"Me too," P.K. says next to Brandon. "I get a lot of great pictures." He stretches, and that just happens to end with his arm across the back of Brandon's chair. "All kinds of pictures."

Alex fumbles to put his phone away and grabs at his water glass to gulp half of it down.

He opened your Snapchat at dinner, Brandon sends in their group text.

Should've gotten a picture of his face for you, P.K. adds. Twenty points.

Brandon - 23, Maripier - 32, P.K. - 29

*

They send Lola downstairs so they can have some time alone. It's time well spent, an afternoon when they can take their time.

Brandon slides easy and smooth into Maripier, has to lean down and kiss her mouth where it's open on a soft moan.

He reaches toward the nightstand, holds his hips still while he grabs for his phone.

"What are you doing?" Maripier murmurs at him.

He scrolls through his contacts, holds his phone so she can see it with his thumb poised over Alex's number.

"Yes," Maripier breathes.

Brandon places the call and drops the phone onto the pillow next to her. He doesn't think about it again, thinks only about pleasing Maripier and himself, about making her moan, about the heat of her around his dick.

She gets loud when she comes, gasps and moans that Brandon matches with his own long groan.

Brandon's phone has gone dark by the time he rolls to the side and reaches for it while Maripier tucks herself against his chest.

He pulls up his recent calls, then silently shows Maripier the screen showing that Alex listened for too long for it to have gone to voicemail. She grins, and leans up for a kiss that Brandon returns before he texts P.K.

Called Alex while we were fucking. Call history says 7 minutes.

Oh fuck you, P.K. sends back. And then, 30 points each.

Brandon laughs with pure delight before he shows it to Maripier and then drops his phone onto the nightstand so he can focus on kissing her.

Brandon - 82, Maripier - 78, P.K. - 59

[idahophoenix.livejournal.com]

I want a kid!fic with two daddy's in any of your fandoms, or else from a kids point of view--especially confused stupid dad's who can't see how adorable they are and prescient, wise kid who knows way more than they do.

[idahophoenix.livejournal.com]

Although I do understand the fact that I used an apostrophe incorrectly in that prompt may make me unworthy of a response.

[(Anonymous)]

ALL THE POSSIBILITIES! Um...either Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin or Gallagher/Galchenyuk/Prust with Beyoncé's song "Partition" being the inspiration? Not necessarily the lyrics, but just the feel of the song?

Please and thank you! :)

We ain't even gonna make it to this club (1/3)

[rsadelle]

Title from "Partition."

Also on AO3

"Hey, babe." Jamie's voice is loud enough to carry up the stairs, as if the excited barking of the dogs didn't already let Tyler know he was there.

Tyler steps out of his room into the upstairs hallway so Jamie can hear him when he says, "I'll be down in a minute." He's not done with his hair, and he hasn't decided which watch he wants to wear. And he needs some shoes.

"You're so high maintenance," Jamie calls up the stairs.

"You fucking love it," Tyler yells back from his bedroom.

His "minute" is more like ten, and he comes downstairs to find Jamie on the couch with one dog on each side of him, both of them with their heads in his lap getting pets. Jamie looks good like that, solid and steady.

"Hey," Tyler says. "Ready to go?"

Jamie looks him up and down, and Tyler knows that look. That look means he's getting fucked later.

"No," Jamie says. He stands up, gentle with the dogs but striding forward forcefully once they're off of him. "Fuck, you look good."

Tyler laughs, giggles, really. He knows he looks good, but it's always nice to make that impression on Jamie too. More than nice when Jamie presses right up against him and just takes his mouth in a hard kiss.

Tyler gets lost in kissing Jamie for a little bit. It's not like he's short of chances to kiss Jamie, but why would he deny himself any chance for it? Especially when Jamie has one hand gripping his ass almost too tight.

"You know we're supposed to be leaving, right?" Tyler asks after Jamie moves down to kissing his neck. He's not looking to go anywhere, though, not when he can be standing here making out with Jamie instead.

"Uh-huh," Jamie says. It doesn't stop him from kissing Tyler's neck.

Tyler tilts his head to give Jamie better access, because the way he's making Tyler feel should practically be criminal. "Baby-"

"Do you want me to stop?" Jamie punctuates that by tugging Tyler's shirt down and licking over his collarbone.

"Fuck no," Tyler gasps out. He rocks his hips into Jamie's. "You know you can do that to me any time you want."

"Yeah, I can." Jamie pulls back enough to smirk at Tyler, radiating absolute confidence. It's such a fucking turn-on. So is the way his hands wander all over Tyler. Stroking up his stomach under his shirt, over his shoulders, down his thighs.

If it's a question of being turned on, Tyler could come and they could be out the door in five minutes. Jamie seems intent on doing more than just getting off.

Jamie pulls Tyler's shirt off, and his hands are all over Tyler again, not that Tyler isn't doing the best to return the favor. Jamie's still fully dressed, but his shirt just emphasizes the breadth of his chest, and his jeans are tight around the thickness of his thighs, and that's doing it for Tyler.

"I just finished getting dressed," Tyler says. "Are you really going to mess me up again?"

"Yes," Jamie says. He gropes Tyler, squeezing the bulge of his cock. "Don't pretend you don't want me to."

Tyler laughs, and snaps his fingers at the dogs to send them out of the room. "Oh, I want you to." He puts his hand at Jamie's belt. "Let me help you with that."

Jamie laughs at his deliberately cheesy line.

Tyler grins at him and gets his jeans undone, then pulls them down while he kneels in front of Jamie. "How much are you going to mess me up?" He licks Jamie's cock as showily as he can.

"As much as I can." Jamie drags the tip of his cock over Tyler's cheek. "If I didn't want to fuck you too, I'd come all over your face."

Tyler shudders, and opens his mouth for Jamie's cock. Jamie has pretty good stamina, so Tyler gets comfortable on his knees and works his mouth around Jamie's cock. He knows how to give a good blowjob, and he knows how Jamie likes it, so he does all of that, using his mouth and his tongue and going down as far as he can. He keeps both hands on Jamie's hips to keep from giving in to the temptation to touch himself. It'll be better if he can wait until Jamie's fucking him.

It's not the longest he's ever spent blowing Jamie, but his mouth is starting to get sore by the time Jamie says, "Okay, babe, that's good for now."

[(Anonymous)]

Tyler Brown/Tyler Seguin, puppy play and kink exploration. It could be a sequel/in the same universe as that one you posted a few months back, but I'd really like to see Segs and Brownie exploring the kink together and stuff <3

[rsadelle]

Hi. My deadline for prompts was actually last Saturday, and I'm kind of overwhelmed by the ones I already have. So I'm glad you liked the puppy play and want to see more, but I won't be able to fill this prompt this time around.

[(Anonymous)]

Tom Wilson/Michael Latta unplanned mpreg, angst welcome

(I am on AO3 as Hockeyhunni26)

[rsadelle]

Hi. My deadline for prompts was actually last Saturday, and I'm kind of overwhelmed by the ones I already have. So I'm glad you want to see more fic from me, but I won't be able to fill this prompt this time around.