yee-croak

hockey rpf

in those moonlit halls i sing - Daniil Tarasov & Sergei Bobrovsky, G, 1035 words

Danya nods. "I've wanted this for years," she says, swinging her dangling feet to try to work off some of the eagerness and apprehension. "I—I really have." Sergei smiles, fond, amused. "I know. You said already." It is amazing, Danya notes, how easily he has believed her.

what a good place to hide, they say - Anton Lundell & Aleksander Barkov, Aleksander Barkov/Aaron Ekblad, Aleksander Barkov & Aaron Ekblad & Original Child Character(s), G, 2000 words

There is a child at the practice rink. Training camp doesn't start until tomorrow, but Anton wants to make a good impression. He trails along behind Sasha, focused on memorizing parts of the layout he doesn't remember from the prospect camp, and trying to hold back his less urgent questions. He doesn't need to ask everything now, he reminds himself; he'll have time later for idle curiosity. The small child—maybe five years old, braid poking out from under her helmet, careening through the halls without a care, repeatedly latching onto Sasha's legs and chattering at him in a head-spinning mishmash of English, Finnish, and Russian—quickly upgrades herself from idle curiosity to burning.

recall that altered time foremost - Aleksander Barkov/Aaron Ekblad, G, 1000 words

He goes down to the dock that night. It doesn't take long for Aaron to join him, settling down on the worn wood at his side, close but not quite touching. A light has turned on in the lake house behind them; their parents are all certainly watching. Sasha cannot blame them. If his son had changed overnight mere months ago, and then asked to fly across an ocean to meet a boy he'd never spoken of before, he too would be concerned.

older sure than this year's cutting - Aleksander Barkov/Aaron Ekblad, G, 576 words

Sasha calls that evening, just after Aaron gets home from his birthday dinner.

slippery when wet - Aleksander Barkov/Aaron Ekblad, 200 words

"God, your thighs are phenomenal," Aaron mumbles, that night in the shower.

from the dark water - Aleksander Barkov/Sam Reinhart, G, 623 words

Samson finds himself in a dream. Sasha's dream, he would guess, from how the scenery morphs between a lake and a tennis court. He's used to ending up in teammates' dreams by accident, but Sasha guards his dreams carefully most nights. He's usually hidden in the static of the dreamweave, and Samson could pick out his thread if he wanted to, but— He learned not to go snooping long ago.

pleasures of the body in this world - Aleksander Barkov/Sam Reinhart, E, 1000 words

Sasha's thumb sweeps over the golden 16. "You kept it," he says, low, pulling the jersey off the hanger. "I climbed the fucking pole for it, of course I was gonna keep it." Samson hesitates. "I considered framing it, but—thought maybe that would get a little weird."

soaks in a mossy place - Aaron Ekblad/Gustav Forsling, POV Outsider, G, 600 words

Their teammate is a gator sometimes. It's just how things are.

grab the bull by the horns - Aaron Ekblad/Gustav Forsling, E, 1658 words

The minotaur's head snaps up when the door clicks closed behind Aaron, and the red glint in those dark eyes—the dried blood on those horns—should be terrifying. Aaron isn't scared. He knows those abs.

dark halls of honey - Aaron Ekblad/Gustav Forsling, E, 300 words

By the third orgasm, Gustav's tongue is starting to ache.

and thus begin to weave - Sam Bennett/Aaron Ekblad, T, 500 words

Sam shifts, getting his other hand on Aaron's head. His movements turn more intentional, gathering hair together, his light pulling and twisting sending tingles across Aaron's skin. Braiding, maybe; Aaron doesn't particularly care, except that it feels good.

the frost that stays - Sam Bennett/Sam Reinhart, T, 700 words

"Mr. Bennett, please lie down," the EMT who had stayed with them, waiting for a second ambulance to arrive, tries again. She's asked four times now, and Samson's tried too, but Sam isn't listening. The beanie pulled down over his ears doesn't block out sound; he's just a stubborn idiot. "'m fine," Sam mumbles, his eyes closed. His hands had been shaking too hard to hold the cup, but now they're barely moving. "Jus' cold."

in the night i watched it burn - Sam Bennett/Sam Reinhart, T, 800 words

Someone shakes Sam awake in the middle of the night. He groans, trying to clear the heavy fog of sleep from his head. Samson is pacing around the bedroom, snatching up the belongings they'd unpacked over the past few days and throwing them into their bags. The clock on the dresser reads 2:48 AM, and Sam can't make sense of what's happening. "Wha…" Samson tosses a shirt to him. "Evacuation order," he says, short, clipped. "There's a fire. We have to go."

still climbing the barbed wire - Sam Bennett/Sam Reinhart, T, 300 words

"Why the hell did you keep it on?"

all rainbow and mouth - Sam Bennett/Sam Reinhart, E, 600 words

Here's a secret: Sam Bennett is not as scary as he looks. He's certainly scary on the ice, skill and toughness coming together into brutal explosions of dominance. But off the ice he's quiet, easily moved by cute critters and always willing to cuddle. There's a big softie under that hardened exterior, and Samson loves to bring that side of his boyfriend out. Which is one of the many reasons Samson loves going down on him.

the downward stroke of feeding - Seth Jones/Niko Mikkola, G, 500 words

"I should've told him not to," Seth says eventually, hollow and hard. The brittle kind of hard, like an iced-over tree breaking. "I should've known." Niko frowns. He sets his hand on Seth's back, around the curve of his good shoulder. "You're not your brother's keeper."

smolder - Eetu Luostarinen, POV Second Person, T, 300 words

You don’t dream about spilled grills.

lick the southern sun - Mackie Samoskevich/Cole Schwindt/Donovan Sebrango, E, 200 words

Cabo is awesome.

indycar rpf

unseed - Scott McLaughlin/Josef Newgarden, T, 300 words

Okay, this was not what Scott had expected when Josef dragged him into his bus as soon as he'd arrived at Barber. "Sorry, mate. Did I hear you right?" he asks, staring at the plastic stick in Josef's hand, the two red stripes all too visible. "Pregnant?" Josef's shoulders square defensively, his chin coming up. "Not for long," he says, guarded, and—that's definitely a little fear, no matter how he tries to hide it. "I'm not keeping it."

baseball rpf

glizzy gifting - Jared Jones/Paul Skenes, M, 400 words