Let's Keep It Rollin'

Auston Matthews teasing Leon Draisaitl (x)

here is yet another short bit from the fic im working on…. not beta read or anything so don’t judge too hard

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Mack is standing in the VIP lounge talking to his dad after the game—only half listening to him bitch about everything he didn’t do well in the game—when Will comes up from behind tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, Celly, my dad wants to meet you.” He starts the second Mack turns around, gesturing over to where his dad was talking to a couple of the other Dads.

“Smith. No hello?”, it’s Rick Celebrini. The one and only, Will thinks.

“Sorry, um, Mr. Celebrini.” Will shakes his hand firmly, just as he’d been taught by his own father. Him and Rick had already met once before when Mack brought Will to the Warriors game, he wasn’t any more polite this time to last. “Mind if I borrow Mack for a sec? My Dad-“

“Go ahead,” He starts before turning to Macklin, “We’ll continue this later, I’ll see you at the restaurant, son.” He quickly claps Mack on the shoulder and disappears into the crowd.

———

“Dad, um, this is Mack.” Will starts as Bill, finished up talking to a couple of the other dads.

“Oh, Mack! So nice to finally meet you, Willy here wouldn’t shut up about you.” He joked, squeezing Will’s shoulder as he blushes in embarrassment.

“Dad.” Will warned playfully.

“Oh did he now?” Mack looked to Will, a teasing smile plastered on his face.

“Oh, what’s that? I think I hear Toff calling me, gotta go.” he starts turning away to leave Mack and his Dad to talk alone.

Mack watches as his teammate falls into the sea of Sharks jerseys, unable to tell him apart from all the different shades of teal and white.

“So,” Bill starts, Macks attention snapping back to him, “BC jersey, huh?”

“Oh- Yeah, um, I lost a bet.” He says quickly, it’s the truth yet he still feels like he’s lying.

“Right. I’m shocked he let you wear it.”

“I’m sorry?” Mack said, a little shocked.

What is that supposed to mean? He didn’t just let me, he made me. he thought.

“Yeah, doesn’t let anyone touch it. Not his mother, not me, don’t even think he let Gabe or Ryan touch it after he took it off that night.”

Mack just stared at him in shock, he knew it wasn’t polite but what else was he supposed to do? This is quite literally life changing information. So what he may be a little dramatic, this has to mean something. He needs it to mean something.

Will’s Dad continued with a small chuckle, “He told me he needed me to bring it with me on the trip, I had to ask if he has joking that’s how serious he is about it. Now I see why.”

“Oh my- I, fuck, sorry, he never told me that.” Mack stuttered awkwardly, still in complete shock.

“Looks like he’s waiting for you,” he points behinds Mack to see the previous crowd of staff and other guests completely cleared out, leaving nobody but Will, leaning against the wall on his phone.”

“Oh. Yeah, do you mind?”

“Go ahead, I’ll see you two at dinner.“ He smiles fondly down at the eighteen year old, “and Mack?”

He turned back around, a quizzical look on his face.”

“You’re a good kid, it was nice to meet you. and he really likes you, I can tell.”

“Thanks, uh, Mr. Smith.” Mack feels like his heart is going to burst with all this information at once. He’s sure Will’s dad didn’t mean he likes him like that but still.

“Bill is fine, kiddo.”

They share a short smile before Mack runs off to meet up with Will so they can drive to the restaurant together.

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hope this is half decent!! i didn’t read it myself after writing so if theres any mistakes ill fix them late

(heres the song i was listening to on repeat while writing this)

huge news for bruins gay little trip fans

tall and small

one must imagine sisyphus grinding his penis on the rock, moaning wantonly

ahem.

The chattering coming from the TV cuts off the instant Zhenya walks through the hotel room door. Ah, Zhenya thinks as he slips out of his sneakers. It's going to be one of those nights.

"Hey," Sid's voice comes from the direction of the bed. Zhenya likes the hotel they stay at in Montreal—the door opens up to a seating area, perfect for him to lay out his suitcase on the coffee table, and there's a tiny hall back to the bedroom. It's nice and feels private, which means he makes Sid wait a moment before ducking through the doorway.

"It's raining?" Is the first thing Sid asks, his eyes flickering over the dappled dark drops on Zhenya's gray shirt.

The answer is obvious; Zhenya doesn't say anything. Instead he eyeballs the empty takeout container next to Sid and reaches for the nightstand, plucking one of Sid's three half-drunk water bottles up and twisting off the lid.

"Cheesecake?" he guesses, and Sid flips the box shut, depositing it on the other nightstand.

"Cheese tart," he corrects. "C'mere."

He's handsy as Zhenya mounts the bed, grappling to arrange Zhenya how he wants him: tucked up against his side, Zhenya's face ostensibly pressed up against his chest but really landing more in his armpit, Zhenya's stomach tucked up against his hip. Zhenya plants the water bottle between Sid's big thighs, the plastic crinkling as he digs it in.

"How was Jean-Francois?" Sid's arm comes up around Zhenya's shoulders, cradling the back of his head and getting into his hair.

"Fine, fine, wants me to try lighter gray again."

Zhenya leans into the heat of Sid's body. When Sid gets like this—touchy, needy, hungry for contact—there's rarely any payoff to teasing. Sid's got him too figured out; Zhenya's compliance is an inevitable thing, and delaying it just wastes time that Zhenya could spend with Sid's capable fingers scratching his scalp. He lays his hand flat against Sid's stomach, which is a little bloated from his treats.

"Lighter gray could look nice."

"What happen to Oh, Geno, you look so sexy in black suit. Oh, Geno, wear dark blue again, is lucky?"

Sid laughs. "I like you in anything."

"Like me best in nothing."

"Mmm," Sid hums in agreement, but his hand just rubs at the back of Geno's neck before returning to carding through his hair.

They're not in their twenties anymore, and Zhenya's come to realize that some nights there's more pleasure in this—just touching each other, familiar and warm—than in sex. Anyways, they try not to get into too much the night before a game. Zhenya had been disgusted to find that there was a kernel of truth in Sid's belief that playing with some sexual frustration added a nice little kick to each game.

"What about you? Do something fun for me this year? Green suit?"

"Not likely," Sid laughs, his stomach quaking beneath Zhenya's palm.

"Do 'nother purple liner, so pretty," Zhenya hums, sliding his hand down.

Sid's breath catches for half a second, but Zhenya's fingers slide down his hip and to the neck of the water bottle, which he wrenches from between Sid's thighs and holds up imploringly. Wordlessly, Sid opens it for him.

"I'll do another purple liner if you do that light gray suit," Sid says as he drinks.

"You want me dress up? Try something more adventure," Zhenya says, and takes pleasure in how Sid's face crinkles. His beloved boyfriend, who's painfully vanilla in every way Zhenya can conceive.

"We already said," Sid mutters, "I like you best in nothing."

Zhenya hums and plucks the remote from Sid's side. He's going to make Sid watch an hour of something fast and action-packed before they both pass out. Sid's fingers resume their easy, rhymthic patterns in Zhenya's hair, and Zhenya smiles.

hey did you guys know when I first heard of hockey fanfiction, I thought it meant fans re-writing games how they wish they went

HUG! YOUR! TINY! CAPTAIN! BOSTON BRUINS ROUND 1 GAME 7

NHL hockey be like: