emily

you’re still everything <3

[bambilenny]

welcome to my nhl blog baby!

⋆˚࿔ i thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me

— emily, she/her, aries, madison beer, hot chocolate, nj devils, autumn, san jose sharks, animal crossing, tyler the creator, deer, snoopy, thrifting, taylor swift, sonny angels

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 links — masterlist au catalog who i write for

requests are: closed!

[bambi-onice17]

could you do a Macklin imagine where his girlfriend gets new nails and he loves them and he begged her for back scratches and head scratches and finally she caved but then she stopped scratching his back to answer her mom on the phone and he flipped out but in a cute way? if so I'd be so gratefulll, love your storiessss !!

This one is a little shorter, very sweet, thank you for the request ☺️ 1.4k words

Practice must've been brutal, you can tell the second Macklin walks through the apartment door. 

Normally when Mack comes home, he’s talking your ear off the second he walks through the door. Something about practice, teammates, random thoughts he had on the drive home, but today he just drops his gym bag next to the door and exhales, long and tired. 

You look over at him from where you’re standing at the kitchen island, mindlessly scrolling through something on your phone while dinner simmers on the stove. “Rough day?” you ask.

“Mhm.”

His voice is muffled slightly by the hoodie he's currently pulling over his head.

You give him a soft smile, not even sure if he’s seeing it, “Come here,” you say. 

He doesn't hesitate. Immediately, he’s crossing from the entryway into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face against your shoulder and breathing you in. The hug lasts a little longer than usual, and you figure he just wants to be held for a little bit, so you don’t loosen your grip. 

You run your hand through his damp hair and ask, “Tired?”

“Very,” he mumbles. 

You hum in response, and you feel him nod against your shoulder. For a while neither of you move, you’re just standing there in the middle of the kitchen while dinner cooks on the stove. 

Eventually he pulls back enough to look at you, and his eyes immediately drop to your hands on his waist. He grabs one and brings it up to look at. He’s looking at your nails. Again. 

You laugh, “What?”

“They still look nice,” he says, running his thumb back and forth over your fingers. 

“You've told me that six times in the past two days.”

“They do.”

He reaches for your other hand. Now he’s holding both your hands in his, and staring at them. Examining them like he hasn’t spent the past couple of days doing this exact thing. 

A small smile tugs at your mouth, “I’ve probably thanked you a million times already, but thank you for paying for them, you don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t,” he says, “but I know you like having them done so why wouldn’t I?” 

You grin at him, reaching up to press a kiss onto his cheek. 

“Best money I've ever spent,” he says, smiling. 

You laugh, slowly backing away from him to turn the eye of the stove off and finish fixing the two of you dinner. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Later that night, he's stretched out across the couch. Not quite asleep, but very close to it. 

The apartment is dim now except for the lamps in the corner of the living room, and the glow of the TV not currently playing anything, but flashing slow ads for every movie and TV show imaginable.

You're tucked into the opposite end of the couch reading something on your phone, quietly. 

After a while, Macklin shifts his head up to look at you, then away, then back to look at you again. You notice it immediately, “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.”

“Mack.”

Then he hesitates. Macklin hesitating either means he wants something or he has to talk to you about something serious. You assume it’s the former, because if it wasn’t you would've already had a conversation about whatever was on his mind. 

You set your phone down, “What do you need?”

His ears go a little pink, which you find cute because he almost never gets nervous to tell you or ask you something. 

“Can you—and you can say no—could you maybe…nevermind,” he says, and stuffs his face back into the couch cushion. 

You immediately start smiling, “Macklin.”

“I'm serious,” he mumbles, his words muffled by the couch. 

“Babe," you insist, trying to get it out of him. He looks back up at you, embarrassed now. "You got your nails done,” he says, cautiously. 

You stare at him, a little confused, but then it clicks, and you immediately understand. 

“Oh.”

His expression gets even pinker somehow, “Yeah.”

You laugh softly, “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don't call me that,” he says, but he’s smiling. 

“You want scratches.”

He tries denying it, “No.” You raise an eyebrow, and he caves instantly, “...Maybe.”

The smile on your face becomes impossible to hide, because for all the confidence he has everywhere else in his life, asking for affection still makes him shy sometimes. 

"Come here,” you say. His entire face brightens, and he starts moving to your side of the couch. 

“You could’ve just asked, Mack.”

“What?” he says, stopping in front of you. 

“You could've just asked,” you repeat. 

“I did ask.”

"You looked like you were about to ask for something insane.”

He shrugs, “I didn't know if you'd want to.”

The fondness that hits you is overwhelming, because he’s so sweet. “I’d always want to,” you say. 

His expression flickers, almost confused. “Why?” he asks. 

You stare at him for a second, “What do you mean, why?”

He shrugs, suddenly looking very interested in a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I dunno. I just feel bad sometimes.”

Your heart practically melts. “Mack, you shouldn’t feel bad.”

He glances up.

You continue, “You know I love you, right?” 

His ears immediately turn pink, “Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Then why would I not want to do something that makes you happy?”

The blush spreads higher across his cheeks, and he grins. “I love you too,” he says, placing a kiss on the top of your thigh, before laying his head across your lap. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Five minutes later he's basically melted into you. His head is still in your lap, his eyes are closed. One of his arms has looped loosely around your waist while the other is running slowly up and down the side of your leg. 

Meanwhile your nails drift slowly through his hair, down the back of his neck, then lightly across his shoulders. 

Every now and then he’ll sigh, or nuzzle deeper into your lap. He just seems so content. 

“Good?” you ask quietly.

“Mhm,” is the only response you get, and you smile. 

His eyes don’t open, but he’s not fighting sleep like he was earlier, now he’s just completely relaxed. 

“You're spoiled,” you say, joking lightly. 

He protests, “No.”

“You absolutely are,” you argue. 

He shakes his head against your legs. 

You give him a look, even though he can't see it, “Baby.”

Finally one of his eyes opens. “I buy you flowers," he says. 

“That's true,” you say, smiling

He continues, “I make you coffee, and I paid for the nails.”

You start laughing.

“I think I'm entitled to some benefits,” he says. 

You shake your head. He's ridiculous. But he's also visibly relaxing under your hands with every passing minute, all the tension he came home with from practice is slowly disappearing the longer the two of you lay here. 

His shoulders are loosening, his breath is evening out; and that’s exactly when your phone rings. 

You glance at the screen to see who’s calling: Mom.

“Sorry, one sec,” you say as you take your hand off his back to reach for your phone. Immediately the scratches stop, and surprisingly Macklin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even open his eyes at first, he just waits. 

Then after about thirty seconds you feel him shift, and a minute later he opens his eyes, looking up at you expectantly as you listen to your mom talk about things going on back home. 

He’s looking at your hand, then he’s looking back at you. You almost laugh. Right now he’s reminding you of a puppy watching it’s favorite thing be taken away. 

His expression is so sad, not manipulative, he looks genuinely disappointed. 

You take the phone away from your ear for a second, “You okay?”

He nods, but then he pauses. “You stopped,” he says quietly. 

Your heart nearly stops because he looks upset that you stopped. Once you give him a sympathetic look, he immediately looks embarrassed. 

“No, it's fine,” he insists. 

Your brows furrow, confused. He just nods. 

He pauses again, looking like he wants to say something else, he finally does, “But when you're done, can you...” he trails off and gestures to your hand and then his head.

You smile so hard your cheeks hurt, and without missing a beat, you move your free hand back into his hair. The relief on his face is immediate. His eyes close again, and his entire body relaxes. 

By the time your phone call ends ten minutes later, he's completely asleep in your lap. Still holding your waist, still resting his other hand on your leg, and you don’t stop moving your nails across his back. When you look down at him, all warm and comfortable and completely content, you can't help thinking: Maybe he wasn't lying when he said paying for the nails had been the best money he'd ever spent after all.

requests are open 💕 I just want to say: Thank you sososo much for all the support 🥹 I love you all!! 🫶

[bubbles1605]

A Few Days

Macklin Celebrini x Reader

Word Count: 5,158 (this was supposed to be a blurb omg)

Warnings: reader is sick (has a cold), hurt / comfort, established relationship, emotional hurt / comfort (he’s so soft), brief mentions of crying, mild angst (more than I intended…oops), let me know of anything else?

Summary:

Mack comes home a day early from a brutal road trip expecting hugs, kisses, and a few days of making up for lost time.

Instead, he finds a week's worth of evidence that you’ve been sick and taking care of yourself alone.

Unfortunately for you, Macklin Celebrini has some very strong opinions about being left out of taking care of the people he loves.

The keys rattle in the lock for only a moment before the door to your shared apartment swings open. He steps in, toeing off his beat-up sneakers easily, placing them beside yours at the door like second nature. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click and flip of the lock.

Immediately, it feels like he can breathe again, shoulders relaxing with a heavy exhale as his hockey bag drops to the floor with a gentle thud - mindful of the people living in the apartment below yours.

None of the main overhead lights are on, but he didn't expect them to be at this time of night anyways. Instead, the apartment glows with the collection of lamps you'd insisted on buying over the years. Warm pools of light spill across the room, softening every corner.

He'd never understood your hatred of overhead lighting.

Then again, he'd never cared much about how the apartment looked.

Not the way you did.

He'd let you take the lead on most of it, content to nod along whenever another lamp or throw blanket or oddly specific decorative item found its way into the cart. Just wanted to see you happy.

But somewhere along the way, the place had started feeling like home and not just a house

Maybe because you were in it.

Just around the corner, he hears the light murmurs of one of your shows playing on the TV. Your soft laugh flows from the living room melodically, bringing a slow smile to his lips that he couldn’t deny even if he tried.

What gives him pause, however, is the painful sounding cough that follows quickly after.

As if that wasn’t enough to have warning bells blaring in his head, the helpless sniffle tacked on at the end has worry sinking heavily in his chest.

He freezes, “Baby?” he questions.

The TV pauses instantly, a moment of tense silence following before he hears you call out softly, “Mack?” you question back.

It was supposed to be a surprise.

The team had been on a roadie for the past 5 days and they were supposed to spend another night away before returning back to the Bay Area. It had been gruelling, far from one of their better trips, and management had pulled a few strings to get the guys on a flight home a day early. Everyone seemed to agree that a night at home with family might be exactly the reset they needed.

He rounds the corner quickly, coming to a pause as he takes you in. The top of your head is the only thing he can see from this angle, eyes peeking just over the back of the couch, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Even in the dim lighting, he can see the glassy sheen in your eyes and the shadows that lay under them.

Your breath is caught in your throat as you continue to stare at each other for a moment. You don’t dare move. Know that he’ll get a read on you the second you do, and you’ve been so careful with hiding it from him while he was away.

His eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.

Even though you haven’t moved, the lack of your normal greeting gives you away. It’s been days since you last saw each other. Since you last touched.

You’ve lived together long enough to have established a routine for when he gets home from away games. Usually on each other the second he gets in the door - taking just as many days as he was gone, if not more, before you guys return back to your normal routine.

Something is wrong, and his stomach churns with unease.

Worse is that he can see the way you lean in slightly on the couch, drawn to him, wanting to make up for the time away just as much as he does. But you still haven’t moved.

If you won’t come to him, he’ll go to you.

Easily.

Every time.

So, he takes calculated steps towards you, eyes staying on your face as you come completely into his view - taking in all the information he can to figure out exactly what’s going on. The first thing he notices is the irritated redness of your nose. The second is how much it stands out against the lack of colour in the rest of your face.

You’re wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and one of his hoodies, hood pulled up over your head. He takes in the tissue box and steaming cup of tea resting on the coffee table.

Water bottle full - untouched - no one here to make sure you were drinking it.

His eyes catch on a plate abandoned on the coffee table. One piece of toast with no more than a few bites missing. Gone cold hours ago.

He notices the slight shivers that seem to wrack your body regardless of the thermostat having been turned up and the soft bundle you’ve turned yourself into. A small trash can overflowing with tissues sits beside the couch for convenience. He knows they’re from more than just a bad afternoon

The way he whispers your name has your heart clenching in your chest painfully, face falling as you take in the look he gives you.

He’s wrecked. Completely caved in on himself and wearing the most heartbreaking frown.

Your stomach drops.

You’d recognized the warning signs of the incoming sickness a few days before he left. You had hoped it would all go away within a day or two, nothing to worry about.

Maybe it was how much you missed him. Or maybe it was the lingering fatigue from the exhausting semester you’d just finished. Whatever the case, the worst of it had started the day he left. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him until that night - over the phone when the game was over and he was back in his hotel room.

It had been a brutal loss, 5-1, and the team as a whole looked disconnected on the ice. He was already so down about the game; anxious about how the rest of the long road trip may play out when the team wasn’t playing anywhere near their best.

So instead, you had kept quiet about the reality of how you were doing at home.

You avoided facetimes when possible, knowing if he got one look at you he would be able to tell something was off. Kept phone calls short, muting when a coughing fit would take over or you needed to blow your nose. But you made sure to text him plenty to make up for it, sending him stupid tiktoks and little things that made you think of him. With the trip going the way it was, it had been enough to keep him from getting suspicious.

Now, seeing the devastated look on his face, you’re not so sure of yourself.

You clutch the blanket a little tighter, like maybe that will keep you from falling apart.

When he rounds the couch, he takes notice of another blanket crumpled and discarded on the floor at your feet. Kicked away during a spike in your fever.

“How long?” he whispers.

“A few days.”

“A few days?” he repeats, eyes wide, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

Your eyes start to water.

You wish it was just the fever.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you start.

“I get to worry.” he cuts in, eyes cutting to yours.

Your chest seizes up. A lone tear falling from your eyes. You sniffle, wiping it away with your sleeve just as quickly as it came.

“What was I supposed to do, Mack?”

“Baby-”

“No, seriously.”

You gesture helplessly around the apartment.

“You were halfway across the country.”

“I know.”

“You had practices. And games. And meetings. The trip was already going bad.” you continue.

His eyes drop.

“I know.”

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”

His jaw flexes. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Baby.”

Softer now.

“I know that.”

Finally, his eyes lift to meet yours.

“But I would’ve liked the chance to try.”

Another tear rolls down your cheek.

His legs give out and he sinks onto the couch.

Only then does he take in the rest of the area. Everything that’s been arranged around this one spot.

The phone charger trails from the wall into the nest you've built for yourself amongst the cushions, tangled up in the multitude of blankets. An abandoned mug on the side table beside the couch.

His eyes dart to the kitchen. Two more teacups stacked by the kitchen sink. The kettle left out on the counter with a jar of honey sitting almost half-empty beside it.

He continues to scan the space.

DayQuil. NyQuil. Cough drops ripped open haphazardly. Thermometer.

All lined up neatly on the island counter.

It knocks the breath out of him.

Because he recognizes the way it's organized.

Exactly how he would’ve done it.

Every short phone call. Every excuse to skip facetime. Every text telling him not to worry. It all suddenly makes sense.

You follow his gaze, cheeks heating up in embarrassment at the state of things. At the state of you.

“I washed the sheets as soon as you left,” you start, “you’re probably tired, I swear everything in the bedroom is clean, you can go lay down.”

“Baby, why are you not in bed? Why did you wash the sheets?”

“So I wouldn’t get you sick when you got home…” you trail off.

The silence that follows is devastating.

He says your name like it physically hurts him.

Then, “Where have you been sleeping?”

But he already knows the answer.

You look away.

“Here.” you whisper, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it.

The answer knocks the breath from his chest anyways. And for a moment, he can’t even look at you.

His gaze drifts back across the apartment.

The mugs.

The blankets.

The medicine.

A week. Your week. Reduced to the evidence scattered around the living room. And he didn’t know about any of it.

His eyes squeeze shut briefly.

He slides closer to you on the couch, hooks a finger under your chin and guides your gaze back to his.

“We’re talking about this later.” he says, softly. But you know it’s a promise.

“Mack, I was just trying to-”

“I know.”

His thumb brushes across your cheek and you melt into his touch.

“I know exactly what you were trying to do.” he whispers, voice breaking around the words.

“That’s why it hurts.”

The words hang between you for a moment.

Then, his frown deepens.

The hand on your cheek shifts as he presses his palm more completely against your skin, then moves it to your forehead.

His brows immediately pull together.

“Jesus, baby.”

Then, louder, “When was the last time you checked your temperature?”

You blink. “What?”

“Temperature, baby.”

The question is gentle, but the tone leaves no room for argument.

“I-” you cut yourself off, lips snapping shut. You try to think back, you really do, but the day feels blurry, time slipping away from you in strange ways over the course of the last week.

Mack’s jaw tightens.

Because somehow, that’s worse. Because you’ve clearly stopped keeping track.

He brushes the hair away from your face, hand moving to cup the back of your head as he leans in to drop a gentle kiss to your feverish forehead, exhaling a shaky breath before standing up determinedly.

He fixes the soft blanket to better wrap around you, heart clenching at the way he can feel the shivers trembling through your body as he does.

He takes quick strides to collect the little recovery centre you’ve made for yourself on the countertop over the last week, already running through a mental checklist. He returns back to you a few moments later, and it’s clear he doesn't want to spend any more time apart from you, especially given the state he’s come home to find you in.

His arms are full. Thermometer, medicine, a fresh water bottle. His expression does something awful when he sets it all down on the coffee table. Careful. Controlled. Like he’s trying to hold himself together by force.

He drops to his knees in front of you. “Sit still for me, baby.”

And you listen.

He reaches up, removing the hood from your head lightly, brushing your hair back from your face before tucking it behind your ear. The touch is so gentle it makes your chest ache again.

He presses the thermometer into place. The silence stretches.

You watch his jaw tense as he waits for the reading, watch the way his free hand settles on your knee. Like he needs the contact just as much as you do.

The thermometer beeps and the colour drains from Mack’s face. You don’t even have to ask, already know that whatever number appeared on the little screen wasn’t one that he liked.

Trying to lighten the heaviness hanging between you, even just a little, you offer him a weak smile, “That bad?”

His eyes lift to yours, and for a second, he just looks at you.

Then, his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, thumb stroking the fever-warmed skin tenderly. He sighs, head dropping briefly to your shoulder as a humourless chuckle escapes his lips. The ones you really wish you could be kissing right now instead of all this.

You reach up automatically, fingers threading through his messy locks. Already in a state of disarray from how much he must have been fidgeting with it during the travel day home to you. He lets out a shaky breath at your touch.

Head lifting as his eyes flick back up to yours, “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” he murmurs.

You scratch along his scalp like that can help ease whatever he’s feeling. His eyes close, shivering at the touch, before snapping back open with an intensity that has your breath catching.

“When’s the last time you took anything?”

You wince. Fingers stilling in his hair. Macklin stares at you. Just stares.

“If you didn’t like my answer about my temperature” - or lack thereof - “you’re definitely not going to like my answer to that one.” you reply jokingly.

His eyes widen slightly, brows lifting in quiet disbelief. “Please don’t tell me-”

The rest of whatever he was about to say dies on the tip of his tongue the second a cough tears through your chest.

You double over slightly, elbow coming up to cover your mouth. Wincing when another violent cough follows closely behind it.

Any trace of humour - which, granted, was very little - disappears from the room.

Mack’s hand is on your back in an instant. Steady. Warm. Grounding as you wait for it to pass. When you finally manage to catch your breath again, he’s rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades.

“How come you didn’t take any this afternoon?” he asks quietly. Not accusing, or angry. Just trying to understand. Because with you, he knows there’s always a reason underlying it all.

You look away, don’t want to bear the weight of whatever reaction he has to what you say next.

“I was saving it for tonight because I knew it would run out if I took it this afternoon.”

Silence follows. You immediately regret saying it.

You try to smooth it over, “I was going to run out and get more tomorrow before you got back,” but it doesn’t land as intended.

His eyes close. Not dramatically, only for a second, like he physically needs to pause.

When he opens them again, there’s something wrecked sitting behind them.

Your name drips from his lips, barely above a whisper. You suddenly wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

Silence follows.

He needs to do something. Needs to take care of you. Can’t sit with the weight in his chest right now.

He reaches behind him, long fingers wrapping around the water bottle he grabbed minutes ago. He holds it out to you expectantly and waits.

You eye him, not quite sure how to handle him like this. Feels like everything you say is only making it worse. You grab it from his hold, fingers brushing against his. You take a sip then put it down.

His eyebrows rise. “Really?”

You huff, “I drank some earlier.” But the evidence of your old water bottle still sitting on the table - completely full - tells a different story.

He looks at it. Then to you. Then just stares. “... Baby.”

And, of course, you cave under the look in his eyes. You bring the bottle back to your lips, drinking it down with a pointed look. The water eases the burn in your throat and your shoulders release some of the tension they’d been holding.

He hums, pleased.

“Okay,” he sighs, sitting back on his hunches, hands dropping to rest on your knees, thumbs stroking absentmindedly. And you can tell he’s thinking.

Then, a moment later, “Okay.” This time, there’s finality in it.

“Come on.” he says, coming to a stand in front of you. Hands grasping yours.

You blink, “Where?” and the stare you get back is completely unimpressed. “Bed.”

Your head starts to drop back, rolling on your shoulders. You sigh heavily, drawing out his name, “Macklin…”

“Please,” he says, quietly. Your eyes snap back to him at the tone. And the look he’s giving you stops you cold. Not frustration. Not impatience. Something far worse.

Like he’s asking for this. Like after everything he’s come home to, he needs this one thing from you. Needs to know you’re finally going to let him take care of you.

He’ll get on his knees again and beg if he has to. But he needs to see you resting in bed. Can’t stand the idea of you on the couch out here for another night. Doesn’t even want to see it for another minute.

The defeat is written all over you. No strength to fight with him on it right now.

“I can walk.” you say, trying to maintain at least some of your dignity if this is how it's going to play out.

“I know.”

Which doesn’t stop him from slipping an arm around your waist anyways. You open your mouth to argue, but the look he gives you shuts it immediately. His other hand slides beneath your knees.

“Mack.”

“I know.”

“Macklin.” you say more firmly.

He looks at you, “Baby. I know.”

Then, he’s lifting you anyway. As if carrying you has nothing to do with whether you can walk and everything to do with the fact that he needs to hold you right now. Like letting you walk there yourself was never really an option.

Your body betrays you, relaxing the most it’s been all week into his steady arms.

God, you missed him.

Missed this. The warmth of him, the certainty of him. The feeling that you don’t have to do everything alone.

He looks so determined. Jaw set, eyes focused. So gorgeous, even like this.

His grasp remains tender, holding you just a little tighter to his chest. One of your arms wraps around his neck, the other coming to rest over his heartbeat. The one that’s beating just a little too fast. The furrow in his brow tells you it’s out of worry. You hate being the reason for it.

The bedroom is dark and cold.

True to your words - not that he ever doubted you - it's completely spotless; everything wiped down and sanitized, clean sheets and perfectly made bed. The slightly sterile feeling makes him choke, reminds him more of the hotels that he’s been in the last week and how they lacked the warmth that you always bring wherever you go.

He pushes the feeling down. Places you gently on the untouched bed, immediately pulling back the fluffy duvet and soft sheets to help you slide in.

He can see the way you’re trembling and makes a split second decision. “Arms up, baby.” he murmurs. Can see the frown pulling at your lips and the question shining in your glassy eyes, but you trust him. It makes his heart ache. He immediately moves to assist you in pulling the old hoodie off your frame, cursing softly at the way your shivers intensify the second it’s gone.

He moves with urgency to pull the hoodie he’s wearing over his head. The fabric warm from where it had been sitting against his skin. He guides your hands through the sleeves before carefully helping to settle it around your shoulders. The second it’s on you, his scent surrounds you. Nose burying in the neckline with a shaky sigh, shoulders dropping just a little. The way you cuddle up into the warmth of it makes him melt on the spot.

He covers you up before your shivering can get any worse, pulling the covers up till they reach your chin as you lay amongst the fluffy pillows. He takes one of the soft blankets you had out on the couch with you and lays it over top.

He reaches to the bedside table, switching on the lamp and illuminating the space in a soft glow. Moving to do the same with the salt lamp on the dresser beneath the TV, grabbing the remote while he’s over there.

Your gaze follows him over the edge of the blankets as he moves about the room. He flicks on the TV, goes through the practiced motions of putting on one of your comfort movies. The one he knows you like to watch when you’re not feeling well.

You almost start tearing up again.

He comes back over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside where you’re bundled up. You look like a sick little marshmallow blinking up at him, swallowed up by his hoodie and the mountain of blankets and pillows surrounding you. For the first time since hearing you cough from the living room, the feeling in his chest eases. Not much. Just enough to breathe a little easier.

His hand drifts back to your cheek, thumb stroking over the warm skin. Eyes unbearably soft as he gazes down at you. Your hand finds its way out of the pile of blankets to rest on his, fingers sweeping over the back of his hand, like that can convey even a little bit of what you wish you could say to him right now.

“I really wish I could kiss right now.”

It’s barely a whisper, spoken with the kind of longing he usually saves for airports and road trips.

What’s different is the way he squeezes his eyes shut, like saying it out loud feels selfish right now.

“Me too.” you whisper back, lone tear rolling slowly down your temple.

He thumbs it away easily.

The breath that leaves him sounds painful, like relief and agony tangled together.

He turns your hand over in his, threading your fingers together before lifting your knuckles to his lips.

The kiss lingers longer than it should.

“How long ago did you make that piece of toast?” he asks, quietly.

You look away.

He sighs, presses another kiss to the hand still clutched in his.

His lips move against your skin as he continues, “Have you eaten anything else since then?”

You shake your head.

Another kiss.

“I’m going to go make soup. And then I’m going to come right back.” he says. As if he needs to reassure himself that leaving the room doesn’t mean leaving you.

“Okay. Thank you.” you whisper.

His eyes squeeze shut. Then, heartbreakingly, “Of course, baby.”

He gives your hand one last squeeze, one last kiss before he tucks it back beneath the duvet and rises to his feet.

For a moment, he just stands there. Like he can’t quite get himself to leave yet. Like walking away from you, even for 20 minutes to make soup, feels wrong after spending the last week not knowing any of this was happening. His fingers trail over the blanket one final time before he forces himself toward the door.

The second he disappears into the hallway, the room feels quieter. Emptier. Closer to how it felt all week.

Later, you’ll blame the sickness for how emotional you’ve been during this whole thing. The fever. The exhaustion. The fact that you’ve barely slept.

But right now, curled up beneath his hoodie and surrounded by the lingering warmth he’d left behind, you feel every bit of it.

–

He comes back not even 25 minutes later, carrying a tray, a packet of tissues held between his teeth.

You sit up slightly, eyes widening and breath hitching as you take it all in.

“Macklin…” you trail off breathlessly, not quite sure what to say.

A bowl of steaming soup sits in the middle. Crackers. Medicine and tea arranged carefully to the side. Your phone charger. A napkin. A spoon. A full water bottle. Even a handful of cough drops sitting in their wrappers.

The tray looks like a physical manifestation of every worried thought he’d had in the last 25 minutes.

Everything about it suggests that he walked around the apartment asking himself what you might need before deciding to just grab all of it and get back to you.

He gives you a moment to sit up a little bit straighter before placing the tray gently across your lap. Then, he reaches for your charger, plugging your phone in and setting it within arm’s reach on the bedside table beside the tissues.

“Be right back,” he says. You barely have time to take a sip of water before he’s gone, walking out the door again. A minute later you hear rummaging from the hallway closet.

He reappears carrying the humidifier. His eyes immediately find you.

Checking. Assessing

Making sure you’re okay before continuing toward the ensuite.

“Mack, I can go eat at the table, baby. It’s okay.”

“Don’t even start with me right now.”

The faucet runs briefly, shuts off. Then he's back again, steps a little bit more careful as he tries to balance the water in the humidifier, plugging it in beside the bed.

A soft stream of mist begins curling into the air almost immediately.

Only then does he seem remotely satisfied.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

You look at him for a moment. Really look at him.

The messy hair. The exhaustion sitting beneath his eyes. The way he’s been moving around the place since he got home, like if he lets himself stop for too long he’ll have to think about all the things he missed.

“Just you.” you say, honestly.

Something in his expression crumbles

The tension leaves his shoulders in a slow exhale.

Looking like he might unravel at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

Like that was the answer he’s been hoping for.

He kicks off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly into the laundry bin, then climbing in beside you. Close enough that your knee bumps his. Like neither of you are willing to waste another second apart.

–

You side eye him as he steals another cracker from your tray. Eyes deadlocked on the movie with an intensity that’s almost laughable.

“You’re getting crumbs in the bed.”

He blinks. Turns to you with a pout that’s hard to take seriously when he has cracker crumbs dusting his lips. “Baby.”

“I’m serious.”

You point toward the growing collection scattered across his chest. He has the nerve to look scandalized.

“You spent almost a week sleeping on a couch and surviving off half a piece of toast.”

He points at the unfinished bowl balanced in your lap. “Eat your soup.”

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you. Small and scratchy. Immediately followed by a cough. But his hand is on your back before the coughing even finishes, slow up and down motions. Never missing a beat.

You don’t think he’s gone more than 30 seconds without touching you since he joined you in bed. Not that you’re complaining. It still doesn’t feel like enough after spending the last week missing him.

–

The tray is eventually abandoned on the bedside table. The movie continues to play softly in the background. Only a small warm light turned on now.

At some point, you end up tucked against his side beneath the blankets. Neither of you remember exactly when.

Your head rests against his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath your ear. One hand traces lazy patterns along your back while the other occasionally drifts up to play with your hair. Twisting a strand around his finger. Untwisting it. Starting over.

You don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

“You should have stayed with one of the guys tonight.”

The words are so quiet he almost misses them, but he can feel your breath along his skin.

His arms tighten around you immediately. “Why?”

“Because I’m probably going to get you sick.”

A quiet laugh vibrates through his chest beneath your cheek.

He presses a lingering kiss into your hair.

“Baby.”

You can hear the small smile in it,

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The answer settles somewhere deep inside your chest. Warm. Certain. You don’t argue. Don’t tell him he’s being stubborn. Because deep down, you’ve always known he’d choose this.

Choose you.

Every time.

–

The movie is still playing when your words begin to slur together. Your responses growing slower. Softer. Until eventually they stop altogether.

Mack waits until your breathing evens out before reaching for his phone.

More cold medicine. The throat lozenges you like. Electrolytes. More soup ingredients. Crackers. A few easy snacks he knows you’ll actually eat.

Something sweet, too. Just to hopefully make you smile tomorrow.

He adds it all to a list he’ll stop and grab first thing in the morning.

Hopefully while you’re still sleeping.

Hopefully while you’re getting the rest you’ve needed all week.

Then, he looks down. You’re sound asleep against his chest. Cheeks flushed pink and nose stuffy. One hand curled loosely in the fabric of the hoodie he’d given you, still holding on even in your sleep.

It’s the most peaceful you’ve looked since he walked through the door.

The sight nearly undoes him.

He sets his phone aside without another thought, careful not to jostle you. His now free hand settling against your shoulder, rubbing slow comforting circles before pulling you just a little closer.

The blanket gets tugged a little tighter around you and a gentle kiss presses into the top of your head. His hand continues its slow path along your shoulder and across your back. The humidifier hums softly from the corner.

And for the first time all week, you’re not carrying it by yourself.

A/N: all my work is written and owned by me. Please do not steal my work, put it into AI, or on any other platform.

[bambilenny]

do u not write for ab anymore

hi angel, so, basically i’m not writing for him at this very moment due to the fact that him saying the r slur really quite put me off a bit? esp as someone who has potential autism, using that word is really horrible and just rubbed me in the wrong way. down below is my list of who i currently write for :)

i also wanted to use this as an opportunity to say i no longer write for the hughes brothers at this moment in time.

i will write for:

connor bedard

will smith (hockey)

macklin celebrini

nico hischier

william nylander

fraser minten

ben kindel

willne

arthurtv

chrismd

arthur hill

-

[bambilenny]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

connor bedard x singer!reader smau

summary : secret relationship yada yada yada this is short but idc

ynyln

♫ etta james • at last

liked by connorbedard, yourdad and 675.9k others

ynyln ily chicago <3 ur the best ! n2 🔜

comments. . .

user1 love love love

madisonbeer <3

↳ ynyln love ya

chicagoblackhawks 🏒❤️

user2 my show 🥲🥲🫶🏼

youropener <3

↳ ynyln ily angel

user3 HOLY SHIT THATS ME AND MY FRIENDS SIGNS WE CAME ALL THE WAY FROM MEXICO TO SEE U

↳ ynyln i love u all so much <3🥹

user4 you deserve this so much angel

user5 im so proud of you.

oliviarodrigo obsessed w u

user6 why tf did connor like wtf😭😭

↳ user7 he just has good taste

unitedcenter so excited for another night of this 🤭

connorbedard 🎤

↳ user8 airball 💀💀💀

via instagram stories. . .

ynyln

♫ the fratellis • chelsea dagger

liked by _connorbedard, chicagoblackhawks and 530.5k others

ynyln hi lol @/_connorbedard

comments. . .

user8 ok maybe not airball

user9 HELLO???

user10 literally less than 2 days after she called him a cutie

user11 i call him a cutie everyday how do i not get this 💔💔

user12 WTF

user13 wait no cus theyre so cute..?

_connorbedard 🍱😛

↳ user15 sushi story confirmed

chicagoblackhawks we luv u !!

user14 i saw them coming out of the players carpark today lmao

↳ user15 GIRL WHAT

↳ user14 they were deep in conversation about where to go to get dinner so i didn’t disturb them

↳ user16 DINNER??? HELLO

↳ user14 yeah and then my friend saw them at this boujie ass sushi place, they literally were talking the wholeeee night apparently like wouldn’t shut up no matter what !!

↳ user15 AWWWWW

madisonbeer 🏒🍓

ynyln

♫ frankie valli • cant take my eyes off of you

liked by _connorbedard, oliviarodrigo and 775.9k others.

ynyln last night in chicago! i love u all more than words can describe <3 you mean the world to me, seriously.

comments. . .

user17 lover girl as the surprise song and i wasn’t there.

user18 i saw connor last night!!

↳ user19 wait like at the show!?

↳ user18 yes girl!! he was stood next to me majority of the night he was watching in awe

↳ user19 theyre so cute.

_connorbedard amazing 🫶🏼

↳ ynyln supprised u could even spell amazing

↳ _connorbedard omg shut up

user20 stargirl

user21 its so crazy how they started talking so quickly 😭

↳ user22 to be fair, theyve been following eachother for over like a year… so it could have been a secret relationship??

↳ user23 HOLY SHIT UR ONTO SOMETHING

↳ user24 kinda gagged they kept it a secret for so long

↳ user25 ive been a fan for 2 ish years and i remember seeing connor at her previous tour? he def walked away pretty fast after the confetti but not towards the exit? he was talking to security people..

↳ user24 omfg.

↳ user23 GIRL THIS IS VITAL INFORMATION?!

↳ user25 i do also remember seeing a photo of them posted on twitter and y/n got it deleted instantly… idek i think theyre together and have been for a while.

_connorbedard

♫ ynyln • lover girl

liked by ynyln, macklincelebrini and 674.9k others.

_connorbedard i love u @/ynyln happy 3 years 💋

comments. . .

user26 THREE FUCKING YEARS

franknazar 😛😛

user27 STFU

user28 WE’RE SO BLIND???

user4 HELLO

user25 told ya

user29 IM GAGGED??

ynyln love u <3

user30 HOW DID WE NOT KNOW

user31 IM SHELLSHOCKED

user32 im so happy for them 🥲

madisonbeer hehehe

chicagoblackhawks ❤️🏒

ynyln 😽😽

user33 IM SO HAPPYYY

user34 im so shocked?? HOW DID WE NOT KNOW AFTER 3 FUCKING YEARS??????

alexvlasic 🔥

ynyln

♫ taylor swift • lover

liked by _connorbedard, chicagoblackhawks and 928.2k others.

ynyln i love u cutie!

comments have been turned off.

[bambilenny]

wow this is so nice, i wonder when for the night part 3 is coming out (hint its probably never)

[lhughsey43-girly]

fraser gives me the vibes that he would let you draw on his hands/wrists when you get anxious simply because he knows that it makes you feel better. and he even keeps a pen on him at all times in case you forget yours!

A fluffy Fraser request! I wasn’t rooting for Canada in the IIHF tournament, I am American ofc I’m rooting for Switzerland, duh. Oh, captain my captain, Nico Hischier is on the Swiss team as an alternate. I’m so proud, with my baby Timo, I love my Devils boys. I am happy for Brownie over on the Canada side of things, and Mack is an amazing captain! Very proud all around, but I must root for my captain. Anyways, I hope I did your request justice! Please enjoy!

And for the record, I'm usually working on two imagines at a time, always one for Luke and then usually a request or a little blurb, or something, that's why I usually have two imagines out in the same day.

Word Count: 2008

Warnings: Use of Y/N, AFAB! Reader, mentions of anxiety, fluff, chirping,

Summary: At a Bruins team potluck, Y/N becomes overwhelmed after getting pulled away from Fraser and surrounded by conversations. Fraser notices her anxiety from across the room, joins her on the couch, and hands her a pen. He lets her draw all over his hand while she calms down. The other Bruins players tease Fraser relentlessly, but he doesn’t care.

_________

The team dinners at Charlie and Kiley's house had become one of those things everyone looked forward to.

Every player brought enough food for fifteen people. The wives and girlfriends somehow brought even more. Kids ran through the house at full speed like tiny hockey players in training, and every available surface ended up covered in drinks, snacks, desserts, jackets, purses, and somebody's forgotten phone.

It was always reminiscent of a family reunion, and tonight was no different.

The second you and Fraser walked through the front door carrying two large trays from your bakery, Charlie practically materialized out of thin air.

His eyes immediately locked onto the desserts. "Tell me those are brownies."

You laughed. "Hello to you too, Charlie."

"Brownies first. Greetings, second."

Fraser snorted beside you while Charlie shamelessly tried to peek beneath the foil covering the trays.

Before he could get a better look, Pasta appeared from the kitchen like he'd sensed dessert entering the house.

"No touching."

Charlie looked offended. "I live here."

"Doesn't matter."

"It absolutely does."

"It does not."

You were still laughing when Kiley rescued the trays from both of them and carried them into the kitchen.

One tray contained the protein brownies you made specifically for athletes, the other contained normal brownies.

The protein brownies disappeared first, then the regular brownies disappeared second, which, honestly, both impressed and shocked you.

Over the last few months, the Bruins had essentially become your unofficial taste-testers, and if there was one thing you'd learned, it was that hockey players would eat absolutely anything placed in front of them.

For the first hour or so, everything was easy.

You stayed mostly attached to Fraser's side while everyone filtered in, mostly because being around him felt comfortable there. You always get easily overwhelmed during large gatherings, and thankfully, your relationship had settled into something comfortable and natural months ago.

Neither of you had to think about it anymore. If Fraser sat down somewhere, eventually you'd end up beside him. If you wandered into another room, he'd unconsciously drift that direction eventually.

So for most of the evening, you were exactly where you always were. Next to him.

Talking with Jeremy about a new coffee shop he'd found. Listening to Charlie complain that protein brownies should somehow count as a vegetable. Watching Pasta steal food directly off other people's plates like an overgrown raccoon, but you never said anything because you thought it was silly.

Normal Bruins behavior.

The problem started when one of the other girlfriends sat beside you. Then another joined. Then someone else asked you a question about the bakery. Then somebody wanted wedding cake recommendations. Then another person wanted the recipe for one of the desserts, which you never give out, so you offered to make her a batch whenever she needed, and before you really realized what was happening, Fraser had gotten pulled into a conversation across the room while you found yourself planted on a couch surrounded by six different people.

Normally, that wouldn't have bothered you. You liked all of them, genuinely, you did.

Everyone had been incredibly welcoming from the beginning. The issue wasn't the people; it was everything else.

The longer the night went on, the louder the house became, the music got turned up, the kids somehow got more energetic, and more conversations started happening simultaneously.

The television was playing in the background, somebody dropped something in the kitchen, Charlie’s dog started barking, and laughter erupted from another room.

The sounds began stacking on top of each other until it felt like every noise was competing for space inside your head.

You tried to stay focused. You really did, nodding along to the conversation, smiling when someone spoke to you, and you answered questions as best you could, but little by little, you could feel yourself becoming overwhelmed.

Not enough for anyone else to notice, in fact, most people probably would've thought you looked completely fine, but Fraser had spent enough time with you to recognize the signs long before they became obvious.

Your fingers disappeared inside the sleeves of his hoodie, which you stole. A habit you'd never managed to break. You started twisting the fabric between your hands, your responses became slightly shorter, and your shoulders gradually tightened, and eventually, without even realizing you were doing it, your eyes started searching for him.

Just little glances around the room, looking for the one person who always made everything feel quieter.

Across the house, Fraser was standing near the kitchen island with Jeremy, Charlie, Elias, and a few of the other guys.

At least, that was where his body was. His attention, however, had never completely left you. He was half-listening to Charlie tell some story, or at least pretending to because somewhere in the middle of the conversation, his eyes drifted toward the living room.

He noticed the way your hands were tucked inside your sleeves, the way your smile wasn't reaching your eyes anymore, the way you kept glancing around the room, and he could see your eyes looking for him.

The tiny flicker of relief that crossed your face when you did find him, and your shoulders dropped slightly, like you'd finally located your exit strategy.

Fraser's expression softened.

Charlie noticed mostly because Fraser had completely stopped listening. "Dude."

No response.

"Fraser."

Still nothing.

Jeremy followed Fraser's line of sight. His expression changed. "Oh."

Charlie looked too. Then smiled. "Go."

Fraser didn't even pretend to argue; he set his drink down, mumbled something about being right back, and crossed the room to you.

The moment you saw him heading toward you, you felt yourself relax a little.

One of the girls scooted over to make room, and Fraser thanked her before dropping onto the couch beside you.

His thigh pressed against yours, the familiar scent of his cologne replacing some of the noise in your head. You leaned into him slightly without even thinking.

His arm settled behind you on the couch. "Hey, Ducky." The nickname came out soft, barely above a murmur.

You looked over. "Hi."

His eyes searched your face for a second. "You okay?"

You hesitated, then gave a small shrug.

Fraser understood that you were overwhelmed, not upset, or ready to leave, just overwhelmed. Without another word, he reached into his pocket.

You frowned. "What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Fraser pulled out a black pen.

Your entire face changed to one of confusion. "Fraser."

"What?" The smile pulling at his mouth told you he already knew exactly what you were about to say.

"Why do you have a pen?"

He looked genuinely confused. Like the answer should've been obvious. "For you."

Your heart practically folded in half. "Fras..."

"Well, I figured you forgot yours because you brought the small bag, and that only fits your wallet and meds."

"I didn't tell you that."

"You checked your purse four times."

You stared at him. "You counted?"

"Ducky, you checked it four times in ten minutes."

Then, as casually as breathing, Fraser placed the pen in your hand, then he turned his wrist over, and placed it gently into your lap.

His hand rested comfortably against your leg. Large and warm.

Your throat tightened slightly because nobody had ever done things like this before. You’d been with Fraser for almost 2 years, and he was still finding ways to surprise you.

Nobody else had paid attention to the tiny details or noticed things before you even said them out loud, but Fraser always did.

You uncapped the pen and started drawing.

The first few lines came naturally, tiny stars scattered across the side of his hand, then clouds and flowers.

The repetitive movement quickly began calming your racing thoughts by giving your brain something simple to focus on.

Across from you, the conversation continued. People laughed and talked while kids ran through the room, but it all felt farther away and much less overwhelming because your attention wasn't being pulled in twenty different directions anymore.

It was focused entirely on the hand resting in your lap.

At some point, Jeremy wandered over and started laughing. "Oh, we're drawing tonight."

Fraser didn't even look up. "Yep."

Charlie followed a minute later, then Pasta.

Soon, half the guys had migrated toward the couch.

Not because anything exciting was happening, just because that's what teammates did; they gathered, they chirped each other, they always occupied the same space, and instead of making things more overwhelming, it helped because Fraser was there.

Every few minutes, he'd glance down at whatever you'd added next with the proud expression of a man admiring fine art, even though his hand now featured a shakily drawn duck wearing a hockey helmet.

By the time you finally capped the pen, nearly forty minutes had passed, your anxiety was gone, the tension in your shoulders had disappeared, and Fraser's hand looked ridiculous, covered in doodles.

"What's this one?" he asked, pointing toward a squiggly shape near his wrist.

You stared at it. "...I genuinely don't remember."

Jeremy nearly choked on his drink. "You drew it."

"I know." You nodded.

"You don't know what it is?" He asked incredulously.

"No." You shook your head,

Jeremy looked horrified, and Charlie laughed so hard he had to put his plate down.

Fraser simply nodded. "Cool."

"You don't even know what it is!" Jeremy said 

"Doesn't matter." You rolled your eyes.

"You're impossible," Jeremy groaned.

Fraser went right back to admiring it.

The duck was the centerpiece. You spent nearly three minutes perfecting the tiny hockey helmet.

Fraser had watched the entire process with the seriousness of a man observing open-heart surgery.

When you finally finished it, he held his hand up to inspect it. "Oh, that's sick."

The duck was not sick; the duck looked concussed; its helmet was too large, one eye was bigger than the other, the stick looked more like a pool noodle, but Fraser acted as if you'd just unveiled a mural.

Pasta leaned over, and his face lit up. "Oh my God. The duck."

"The duck?" Jeremy asked

"The duck." Pasta pointed. "That one's my favorite."

"You would pick the duck," Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

"Obviously," Pasta said

"Why?" Jeremy said, confused.

Pasta looked genuinely offended by the question. "Because he's just a little guy."

That statement caused another round of laughter from everyone sitting nearby. Even you couldn't help but laugh, Fraser smiled, thankful you looked like yourself again.

Comfortable, relaxed, and happy, the difference was impossible to miss. Still, Fraser never pointed it out; he simply stayed where he was.

Letting you draw.

Letting you lean against him.

Letting the moment happen naturally.

By the time you finally clicked the pen shut, nearly forty minutes had passed.

You hadn't even realized it.

The conversations around you had blurred into comfortable background noise. The knot in your chest had disappeared, the tension that had been sitting between your shoulders all evening was gone, your breathing had slowed, and your hands had stopped fidgeting.

Just like that, everything else seemed to fade into the background because the look on your face now was completely different from the one he'd seen nearly an hour ago.

You were smiling and leaning comfortably against him, and that alone made his chest ache in the best possible way. 

So while everyone else laughed at the ridiculous artwork covering his hand, Fraser couldn't bring himself to care because they weren't really looking at what he was looking at.

Where they saw silly little doodles, he saw proof that you were okay, and if carrying a pen around every day meant he could help you get back to that place? If it meant giving up his hand as a human sketchbook whenever you needed it? 

If it meant walking into Bruins practice tomorrow with a shittily drawn duck in a hockey helmet drawn across his wrist?

Then he'd do it every single time without a second thought because he liked to take care of you in any way he could.

[bambilenny]

holy shit. thank you all so much for 700 followers!? this is insane. i love u all so dearly <3

[bambilenny]

timo meier serves so much cunt and it pisses me off

[sidfrogsby]

he’s so stupid gorgeous

[pearlandemerald]

baby mine - nm²⁹

summary - a day in the life of you and nate on an avs game day on your first week of maternity leave

pairing - nathan mackinnon x doctor!reader

warnings - pregnancy, suggestive content, hints of nesting anxiety, and not proofread

wc - 5.1k

requested - no!

a/n - avs please I can’t do this rn…please

“I feel huge.” You sigh from the couch, looking at the bowl of oatmeal that you had carefully balanced on your bump. 

“You're growing our child, so of course you feel big.” Nathan shakes his head at your antics and continues to meal prep. 

“Yeah, I know, your huge ass baby.” You tilt your head back and look at Nathan in the kitchen upside down. 

“Baby girl is not that big.” He puts more meals into the refrigerator, “Eat your breakfast, please, Y/N.”

“That’s not my name.” You retort, sounding like a petulant child. 

“It is your name.” 

“No…you refer to me as baby, babe, my wife, or light of my life. Not Y/N.” You tap the bowl but make no move to eat it. 

“Baby, please eat your breakfast before I leave for practice. I don’t want to have to tell Bednar the reason why I’m playing shitty is that my pregnant wife didn’t eat her breakfast.” He puts away the last of the meal containers and walks over to you, sitting on the couch with you. 

“Fine, did you put Nutella and strawberries in here like I asked? Last time you were very skimpy on Nutella.” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I did, but you didn’t check the bowl when I gave it to you, did you?” He picks the bowl up off your bump and urges you to sit up. 

“No, I just let you set it on my bump, and I thought it would be fun to see how long it would stay.” You smile sheepishly and take the bowl back. Taking a peek inside, you see there is a generous amount of both strawberries and Nutella on the oatmeal. “I’ll eat it now.”

“Thank you.” Nathan watches you take a bite before kissing your forehead and getting up. “I’ll be back around noon, then we’ll finish up the nursery. Please don’t touch it while I’m gone. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

“I won’t, I’ll probably watch something.” You shrug. “There are some shows I want to start.”

“Whatever keeps you out of the nursery.” He agrees and walks to grab his gear. 

“This oatmeal is really good, babe.” You hum and take a few more bites. 

“All to your liking?” 

“Yeah, perfect amount of Nutella this time.” Nathan comes back with his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“I’m glad, I’ll be back to make lunch.” You smile over at him, and he sits on the arm of the couch.

“Okay. I’m coming to the game tonight, though. I can’t keep staying in this fucking house, or else I’ll lose my goddamn mind.” You sigh and lean your head into your hand. 

“I don’t want you to lose your mind staying in this house.” He chuckles.

“Oof.” You put a hand on your bump as your baby girl kicks. “She’s active today.”

Nathan reaches down and places a hand on the curve of your stomach. “Very active, be nice to your momma, baby girl. I have to go now, or I’m gonna be late. I'll see you in a few hours.”

“Drive safe.” He nods and cups your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. 

“I will.”

“Good. Now I can’t have my baby daddy being late to practice.” You peck his mouth again. 

“Baby daddy? I’m your husband.” Nathan scoffs, and you laugh. 

“My husband, who is going to be late. You have full permission to blame me, and tell Bednar to call me.” 

“You’re in a silly mood this morning. I love you, my beautiful wife, who is doing such a good job keeping our baby safe. I’ll be home later.” He kisses you one last time. 

“I love you too.”

Nathan leaves for practice, and you settle back into the couch with your oatmeal. You try to get comfortable watching a show, but the thought of the still unfinished nursery. You know Nathan would kill you for even setting foot in there. However, your mind keeps wandering, and the trash TV show you’re watching does nothing to distract you. Your eyes flick up the stairs, and you sigh. Pushing yourself off the couch, you waddle up the stairs. God, you hate fucking waddling. 

The nursery is almost finished, the crib is halfway built, the walls are painted to a pretty light blue, and all of the clothes, toys, and diapers need to be organized. It’s all so disorganized, and you need to do something about it. 

Your phone rings on the changing table, another thing that needs to be finished, you grab it and press it to your ear. 

“Hey Y/N, how are you doing today?” Melissa Landeskog says cheerfully over the line. 

“Nate’s gonna kill me.” You sigh and open the boxes of baby clothes and stuffed animals. 

“I'm sure whatever you're doing wouldn't warrant that.” 

“It’s been about twenty minutes since he left for practice, and I did the one thing he asked me not to do.” You want to turn around and walk away from the room, but you just can’t. “I’m in the nursery, and I just keep on thinking about all the things that need to be done in this house before the baby gets here. God, I think I’m going crazy, like I’ve been home for what? Three days? And I already have cabin fever.”

“Slow down, honey. Do you need me to come over and help you sort everything out? I would happily do that.” Melissa offers generously. 

“No, I can’t do that. Nate already said he would help me once he got back from practice. I just can’t seem to sit still.” You slump into the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room.

“You’re normally so busy, Y/N, it’s fine that you’re feeling this way. But you’re having a baby, honey.” 

“I know I am, I just feel so useless.” You rock slowly back and forth, hand resting on your belly.

“You’re pregnant, not useless.” Melissa chuckles. 

“Well, it doesn’t feel that way, I mean, my attending benched me from all surgeries, so I was doing scut work as if I’m not a goddamn doctor.” You feel tears burning at the back of your eyes, “I’ve just been doing so much since the moment I left home at 18, that being told to sit back and relax makes me want to say damn them all and do everything. Sorry, I’m just emotional right now.”

“Never apologize, you have every right to feel this way. But I have to ask, have you told Nathan any of this?” Melissa is a voice of reason, like an older sister who knows just what to say. “I’m taking your silence as a no.”

“I just don’t want to bother him with it, he’s stressed about making the playoffs, and I’m 36 weeks pregnant. He has enough on his plate.” You rub your temples.

“You are his top priority, like the utmost important thing in his life right now. Playoffs be damned, he wants you to be safe. So telling him how you’re feeling is something he deserves to know.” Everything Melissa says makes you realize how in the dark you’ve been keeping him. All for the so-called sake of protecting him, but have you really?

“Thanks for this, Mel. I should talk to him.” You come to the conclusion easily. 

“You should. If no one has told you yet, you’re doing great. You and Nate are going to be amazing parents.” The words catch up to you, and a tear rolls down your face. 

“Thank you, it really means a lot.”

“It’s really no problem,” Melissa guffaws, “Will I see you at the game later?”

“Yeah, you will.” You sniff and wipe at your eyes. 

“Good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/N.” Melissa says. 

“Bye Mel.” 

The phone call ends, and you drop your phone into your lap with a sigh. You don’t really feel like getting up from the chair, and there’s a box of toys next to you. You pick up a dog plush that someone got you for the baby shower. You stroke its head and set it on the curve of your bump. Baby girl kicks, and you let out a watery laugh. 

“Like the dog baby girl?” You ask, and the flutters come back, “I guess so. It’s all yours, girly.”

You keep on rocking back and forth, cradling the plush against your chest. Your eyes begin to close, and sleep overtakes you. 

•••

“Y/N!” Nathan yells, and you’re awoken from your nap. “Baby, where are you?”

You clear your throat, “I’m up here.” 

You hear him walk up the stairs and peer into the doorway of the nursery, the worry is clear on his face. “I told you I would be back to help.”

“I didn’t touch anything. I just got anxious, but Mel and I talked for a bit, so that took my mind off things. Then I fell asleep.” You feel bad because Nathan looks extremely concerned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He crouches in front of you. “Do you want to get this done now or have lunch first?”

“Lunch.” You agree. 

“Alright.” He helps you up from the rocking chair and places a hand on your lower back. “What did Mel have to talk you down from?”

“I guess I should talk to you about it.” You look over your shoulder at him. “I’ve been feeling pretty useless lately, like yes, I went on maternity leave three days ago, but I was feeling useless at work for weeks too. But I didn’t want to bother you because you have games, road trips, and the playoffs to think about, so I didn’t tell you.”

“Y/N…”

“I know, I know. I should have told you.” Nate sits you down on the stools underneath the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, you should have. We’ve been together for 7 years now, baby, married and not. I want to know about everything that concerns you, tell me everything.” You nod and lean into the hand he has pressed to your cheek. 

“I will promise.” You agree, and Nathan smiles. 

“Good, now what do you want to eat?”

“Like a crispy sandwich, pesto, cheese, prosciutto, arugula, and focaccia. We should have everything for that. I bought some when I went to the store yesterday.” You pat his ass as he walks into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it looks like we have everything. Do you want to drive with me to the game? I’d feel better if we could arrive and leave together, not that you can’t drive.” Nate pulls out all of the ingredients. 

“Three hours is a long time to wait at the arena. Maybe you could drop me off at Landy’s house, and I can go with Melissa.” You hop off the stool and round the island to the other side of the kitchen.

“Sounds good, then we can leave together, and we don’t have to worry about a second car.” He watches you waddle around prepping ingredients. “I can make you lunch, you don’t need to help.” 

“We just had a conversation about me feeling useless. I haven't had this much time off since our honeymoon, so sitting still is not appealing to me.” You slice open the bread and start to spread butter on it. 

“Right, sorry, umm…I’ll get started on the arugula topping.” Nathan backs down, honoring your need for autonomy. 

“Perfect.” You hum, and the two of you get to work. 

You both work in tandem perfectly, making lunch and eventually working your way upstairs to the nursery. Nathan finishes the crib, and you begin putting away the onesies, toys, and other accoutrements that are perfect for a newborn baby. 

“She kicked when I put this on my bump.” You show Nate the dog plush that causes the flutters from your baby. 

“Did she?” He takes the stuffed animal with a grin. “Just like her dad.”

“She better have some of me in there.”

“She should get your smarts, cause everyone knows that you’re leagues smarter than me.” He kisses your head and places the plush into the crib. 

“Very true, I can say I’ve never had a concussion.” You jab at him. 

“And I’ve had more than I can count.” He chuckles. 

“I know, your nose didn’t always look like that.”

“Hey, it has charm.” He touches his nose, and you smile. 

“It does.” You press your head to his shoulder. “We should start getting ready. This is the best we can do for now.”

“Yeah, we need to get going here soon. I have to be at the arena by 4, so I’ll need to drop you off soon.” He agrees, and you turn off the light in the nursery and make your way to the master bedroom. 

“What to wear, what to wear.” You hum and rummage through your closet. 

“Be comfortable.”

“Believe me, I will.” You pull out the only maternity jeans you own and try to pull them on. “Help.”

“Come here, sit on the bed.” He chuckles as you sit down on the bed and Nate helps you into the jeans, “and how about a sweatshirt?”

“Yes, please, I want the maroon one, the one the WAGs got for Christmas.” You watch him walk back into the closet, half-dressed in a suit.

“This one?” You nod, and he hands it to you. “What about a shirt underneath in case you start to get hot?”

“Alright.” You take off the baggy shirt you were wearing and grab a long tank top that fits over your bump. You put the sweatshirt on over top and fall back onto the bed, feeling slightly winded. “Why is it so hard to do that?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” You laugh and watch him get ready, eyes trailing up and down his body. “Fuck if I wasn’t pregnant already, I’d let you get me pregnant.”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you can’t just say things like that.” Nate blushes hard.

“What? That I think my husband is hot?” You sit up and flutter your eyes at him, making him blush again. “Can I not say that?”

“No, you can.”

“But you have to focus, be ‘Nathan MacKinnon’ right now to get into the mindset, and I’m distracting you.” You track him around the room with your eyes. 

“You are extremely distracting, sitting there pregnant with my kid and saying you’d let me get you pregnant again.” Nate stops fixing his collar and looks at you like you personally offended him. “Recipe for distraction.”

“Caveman.” You tease, and he does the final button on his shirt. 

“No, just completely devoted to you.”

“Don’t I know it.” You push off the bed and pad around looking for the perfect shoes to wear with your outfit. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go. I’ll meet you downstairs?” He peeks into the closet, and you give a nod. 

“I’ll be a second.” You grab a pair of white sneakers with maroon accents and take a few seconds to put them on. “Is my purse down there?”

“Yeah, it’s on the counter!” Nate yells up the stairs, and you begin your slow descent down them. Taking a step at a time, trying not to throw your balance.  

“Let’s go, you have pregame prep to do.” You take your purse from his hands, and both of you get into the car. 

•••

You and Melissa get to the arena around 6:30. Both of the Landeskog children are with a babysitter, so a child-free night was upon you both. Well, other than the nearly fully formed child inside of you. Security lets you in easily, and you both walk to the family suite. 

“You’re literally glowing.” Melissa holds the door open for you.

“Really? I just feel huge, like I’m actually waddling around and shit.” You sit down on the seats closest to the glass of the suite. 

“Normal part of pregnancy, hon, the waddle gets to everyone eventually.” Melissa grins. 

“Ugh, I know, it still sucks.” You settle into the chair. “My street cred in the hospital is gone.”

“You’re funny.”

“No, seriously, all these new interns come in and the first impression they have of me as a senior resident is me pregnant.” You sigh and lean into your hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited to have this baby, because I wanted kids eventually. But I wanted to have kids after I became an attending.”

“You and Nate got this, I promise. And we’re all here for you both. Let me know if you need anything.” Melissa touches your shoulder. 

“I will. Nate’ll take some coaxing, but I’ll reach out, don't worry.” You joke, and Melissa laughs with you

“Good. Now, do you need anything like water or food?” She asks, and you shake your head. 

“All good for now, but thank you.” 

“Alright, just let me know.” She touches your shoulder.

“I will.” You nod and feel your phone buzz in your purse. You pull it out, seeing Nathan’s contact on your screen. “It’s Nate, I'll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah, go.” Melissa shoos you off, and you press the phone to your ear as you get up out of the seat. 

“Hey, baby.” You speak sweetly into the phone.

“Hey, yourself, did you get to the arena okay?” 

“All in one piece, both me and baby.” You tease, and Nate sighs at your bad joke. 

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sir, yes, sir.” You snicker and lean into the wall next to you. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, but you married me.”

“That I did, and I don't regret it.” His tone is sincere and warms your heart.

“Better not, 'cause you’re stuck with me, MacKinnon. For the next 18 years, then we can reevaluate.”

“I think I’ll need more than the next 18 years with you.” Despite your many attempts at teasing, he always says something so heartfelt that your chest wants to burst. “How does forever sound?”

“Hmm…forever is a long time.” You try to keep up with your previous antics, but you’re melting by the second. 

“Yeah, maybe, but you’re worth it. Both you and the baby.” You’re going to cry, like burst out in tears. 

“Stop being sweet right now, Nathan Raymond MacKinnon. You have a game to play, and I cannot cry before puck drop.” You scold him, not doing a very good job at hiding your watery voice. 

“Government named? You’re being very serious, alright, I’ll stop.” 

“Thank you. Now, go play a good game. I love you.” You dab at the corner of your eye. 

“I love you too. See you after the game.”

“See you after the game.” You repeat, and the call ends quickly after. You sit back down next to Melissa, and a couple of other WAGs that joined you two in the suite. 

“Y/N! You look amazing.” Tracy Makar, places a soft hand on yours. 

“Oh, thank you, getting bigger and bigger by the day.” You settle back into your chair, trying to get comfortable. 

“All a part of the process is what I’m trying to tell her.” Melissa nudges your shoulder, and you roll your eyes. 

“You and everyone else. But my body was not prepared for this baby at all. She is really comfortable.”

“I bet you two have picked out names?” Kerry Toews, the other wife that joined you, asks. 

“We actually have her whole name picked out. My mom got stuff monogrammed for the baby shower, so you’ll have to see it then.” You and Nate had picked out the name months ago. A combination you both loved and has sentimental value to make it feel special. 

“Ooo, I’m excited. You have great taste, so I trust you picked out something that will suit your little girl perfectly.” Tracy clasps her hands together with a wide grin. 

“We love it.” You feel her kick and rub the spot gently. 

“Take these last weeks in, soon your life will be all baby and nothing else.” Mel pats your hand, knowing full well what’s coming for you and Nate. 

“Oh, I know, it's not ideal to have the baby right near the end of the regular season, but we’ll have to make do.”

“Oh, for sure, but like Mel said, we’re here for you.” Kerry reiterates, and you take a deep breath. 

“Thank you, guys. Wait, did you get the invites for the baby shower?” You look at the other three women, panic rising for a second.  

“Yes, they were adorable. I should have sent back the RSVP.” Tracy nods, and you calm down. 

“I should check that. Should’ve probably been the first thing I did.” You shake your head. 

“You’re all good, Y/N.” Mel pats your arm. “Oh, the game is starting.”

All of you move to the edge of your seats and watch the Avs skate out onto the ice. You see #29 move around on the ice, Nathan looks up in your direction, and you give a small wave. Your baby girl kicks at the same time, and you laugh in awe that she’s able to understand. 

The game starts, and you settle back into your seat. 

•••

“That was a bullshit call!” You yell, knowing full well the refs can’t hear you. You plop back into your seat. There are 45.2 seconds left in the third, and the Avs are only up by one. Baby girl is rolling around from excitement, and every so often, one of her limbs catches on a rib or your bladder. “This is ridiculous.”

“The refs are on something tonight.” Mel shakes her head. “If this game goes to overtime, I think I’m gonna head out. Beat the traffic and say good night to the kids.”

“Yeah, I’m so tired.” You agree. “But Nate has the car keys and would be left stranded if I took them.”

“I can take you home if you need. It’s no big deal.” Mel offers. 

Normally, you would decline, but being pregnant has you yearning for your cozy bed. “That would be amazing, thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

You continue to watch the ice, waiting for the confirmation that this game wouldn’t go to overtime and the Avs would get the win. Your eye is starting to twitch a little from being so tired, and the need to rest your eyes is becoming more prevalent. 

The goal horn goes off, and you’re immediately more alert. The Avs score a goal and win the game, you sigh in relief. You won’t have to stay at Ball Arena for longer than necessary, and you get to go home with your husband. Falling asleep in his arms sounds like literal heaven right now. 

“It was a good game, but I’m not staying here longer than I have to. I’ll see you, ladies soon?” Melissa says as all four of you stand up.

“Yes.” You give her a quick hug, and she does the same with Tracy and Kerry. 

“Do you still want a ride back?” Mel asks as she circles back around to you. 

“No, I’m good, no overtime, so I’m going home with Nate.” You shake your head.

“Alright, rest up, honey.” 

“I will.” Melissa heads out, leaving the rest of you to walk to the family room. 

There are a few other families that probably sat in the stands, waiting to see their respective players. You settle on a chair, your hips and back aching from the length of the day, and your eyes drooping with the heaviness of sleep. If Nate doesn’t get out of media soon, you’re probably gonna fall asleep in the room. 

You luckily don’t have to wait too long. Nate walks through the door back in his game day suit. His eyes search around before landing on you, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Hi darling.”’ Nate can see the need for sleep written across your face. “Ready to go home?”

“Please, I’m gonna fall asleep on my feet here soon.” He pulls you up out of the chair, and you step closer into his side. Pregnancy and tiredness make you clingier.

Nate lets his arm fall over your shoulder, and the two of you walk out of the room. Comfortable silence makes its way between the two of you. Nate played a good game, and you’re too tired to talk about anything other than getting in bed. He’s practically guiding you to the car at this point, places are fading out of view as you possibly fall asleep on the walk there.

Nate helps you into the car and buckles your seatbelt. “Wait, I didn’t say goodbye to Tracy and Kerry.”

“I said goodbye for you, they know you are tired.” He eases your worries. 

“Okay, good.” You nod slowly, and he shuts the door. 

Nate starts the car, and the hum of the engine has your eyes fluttering closed for a second. A short moment. Or what you think is only a moment, but when you open your eyes again, the car is pulling into the garage. 

“Oh my god, I fell asleep.” You run a hand through your hair, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. 

“You needed it.” Nate chuckles and turns off the engine, “Head inside I’m gonna grab a package I saw on the front porch.”

“Okay. It might be the stuff my mom got for baby girl.” You tell him and get out of the car. 

“We can take a look.” 

“Okay. Wait for me to open the package.” You toe off your shoes and wait in the kitchen for Nate to come back.

You hear the garage door close, and Nate walks in with a box underneath his arm. He places the box on the counter, letting you read the label.

“Yeah, this is the baby bag, blanket, and onesies that she got monogrammed.” You tap your fingers on the box, “She thinks it would be cute to have it set up on a table at the baby shower and have people try to guess her name from the initials.”

“Let’s take a look at them.” Nate grabs a pair of scissors to cut the box open. 

You take out the tissue paper and pick up the diaper bag with your soon to be daughters initials on it. NRM is written in pretty white cursive, standing out from the black fabric of the bag. Nate takes it from your hands and runs his fingers over the letters, the same ones derived from his own name.

“People won’t think I’m conceited for giving my daughter my own initials, right?”

“If they do, I don’t care, because I love the name we picked out for our child.” You place a hand on his bicep. 

“You’re right.” He nods and moves to look at the other things in the box. “This blanket is cute.”

He pulls out a pink floral blanket with your baby’s first name written on it. “Oh, it’s just darling.” You smile and take it into your own hands. 

“I can’t wait till we have her actually in our arms, holding her in this blanket. Being able to use these onesies and this bag.” He places a hand on your bump, and your baby girl kicks softly. You know Nate feels it from the smile that spreads across his face. 

“I know, we’re so close. 6 or so weeks, then we get to hold her, and she’ll be real and all ours.” You place your hand over his. Nate leans down and kisses your mouth softly. 

“I can’t wait. Until then, you should get into your pajamas and go straight to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours. 

“Yes, please, my back and hips are killing me.”

“Anything I can do for you, baby?” His hand drifts to your lower back, rubbing up and down your spine. 

“Not right now, I just need to go to sleep.” You shake your head and slowly climb the stairs. 

“I agree. You were out in the car, like there was some traffic and people were honking, but you stayed asleep through all of it.” Nate says, following behind you. 

“I’m really tired right now. Growing a baby takes it out of me.” You make eye contact with the bed, and all of a sudden, there’s a gravitational pull. It has you making a beeline for the plush blankets and soft mattress. 

“Not yet, if you get in bed now, I won’t be able to get you out. Wash your face and brush your teeth, and I’ll get your clothes set out for bed.” He steers you in the direction of the bathroom, and you grumble, even though you know Nate is right. 

“Fine.” You huff, the tiredness in your bones makes everything feel slower and heavier.

You pull your hair away from your face and grab your skincare. Washing your face and freeing it of the makeup you had on makes you feel fresher. You catch a glimpse of Nate folding a pair of shorts and a large shirt for you to wear onto the bed, as you grab your toothbrush. You smile at his meticulous preparation of your sleep clothes before squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste and beginning to brush your teeth. 

“Your sleep clothes are on the bed. I’m gonna shower quickly, and then I’ll join you in bed.” Nate joins you in the bathroom, and you give a nod while continuing to brush your teeth. 

You rinse off your toothbrush and wipe your mouth as steam starts to fill the bathroom. You let Nate shower in peace while you free yourself from the maternity jeans and sweatshirt you’d been wearing. Slipping into bed, you prop yourself up with the pillows. Normally, you’d be able to fall asleep just fine without Nathan in the bed, but right now you need him to be near you.

He’s true to his words, and the shower turns off minutes later while you're burrowing into the covers. He emerges from the bathroom hair damp and wearing sleep shorts. 

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He says quietly, climbing into bed.

“Just waiting for you.” You move closer to him, and Nate pulls you into his side. 

“Well, I’m here now, and you can go to sleep.” You nod, eyes drooping, heavy with weariness. 

“Okay, g’night, Nate. I love you.” You mumble. 

“Goodnight, baby, I love you too.” He kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you. A hand lands on the curve of your stomach and says so softly you almost don’t hear. “Goodnight, baby girl, we can't wait to meet you.”

You smile softly, eyes too heavy to open, but in your heart, you know your baby girl will be so loved. You can’t wait to bring her into the world. 

Soon. Really soon.

a/n - I picked out baby girl’s name and then realized afterwards that nate had the same initials. It was a lucky accident, really! what do you guys think it is?

[koiagain]

I guess you could say he’s ve… he’s a very h…

[bambilenny]

⋆˚࿔𝐁𝐀𝐆𝐒

fraser minten x crosby!reader smau

a/n: ok i fixed the timeline if u saw this before no u didnt!!

yncrosby (june 7th)

♫ beabadoobee · ever seen

liked by sidneycrosby, nhl and 14.6k others

yncrosby off season 🌊 @/sidneycrosby, @/nathanmackinnon, @/fraserminten

comments. . .

user1 wait involve me

user2 she actually has my dream life

nathanmackinnon fun times! 🤩✨

macklincelebrini wait im sad

↳ yncrosby go back to doing keg stands bro

sidneycrosby 🌊🌊🌞🌞

fraserminten ☀️❤️

↳ user3 THE HEART #noticing

↳ user4 can they just hard launch already

nhl fun in the sun!

user5 aww fraser is so cute

↳ yncrosby am i not????

yourfriend1 wait whats the uv…

↳ yncrosby FIVE.

↳ yourfriend1 im On my way!

yourfriend2 cutie

↳ yourfriend2 talking about your dad btw😉😉

↳ yncrosby GTFOO

evgenimalkin love this! so happy to be here!

pittsburghpenguins <3

fraserminten (june 9th)

♫ eagles • take it easy

liked by yncrosby, sidneycrosby and 127.4k others

fraserminten 🕶️🎸🐞

comments. . .

yncrosby top 10 most boring captions ever!!!

↳ fraserminten youre just not cool enough to get them

connorbedard #noticing

↳ user6 IM CRACKING UP WTF

bostonbruins 💛🐻

sidneycrosby 🐞🐞🐞🐞

randomgirl ❤️💋

↳ user7 uhm hi wtf

↳ user8 why did he like the comment.

↳ user9 DO NOT PLAY RNNN

nathanmackinnon 😊😊

teamcanadahockey 🙂

nhl 🌞

user10 that girl has pissed me off and ruined this post

user11 yall check twitter

user12 aww theyd be so cute together lowkey

user13 wait i love them

user14 usually i hate rumours but...

sidneyrcrosbyismybabydaddy how does sid feel about them being together

yncrosby (june 20th)

♫ suki waterhouse • good looking boy

liked by fraserminten, yourbf and 16.9k others

yncrosby back home with the bf 𑣲⋆｡˚

comments. . .

yourbf <3

user15 BRO.

user16 hey so thats not fraser hahahahahahhahhaa

user17 oh now im pissed

fraserminten 😀

↳ user18 wait i feel so bad for him omg.

↳ user19 i knew she was bad news ngl

user20 this is wrong on so many levels

↳ yncrosby you when the ships in your head don’t actually work 🤬🤬🤬

↳ user20 bro calm down

↳ yncrosby i wont calm down when yall are being disrespectful as fuck??

sidneycrosby ❤️

user21 but he isnt prime fraser minten 💔💔

macklincelebrini gulp!!

user22 wait i feel bad for her tho people are being vile

user23 but FRASER 💔

user24 yall are WEIRDD

user25 wait why are we mad she seems happy :/

randomgirl (june 22nd)

♫ madison beer • make you mine

liked by fraserminten, yncrosby and 1.3k others

randomgirl date nights (hes happy over here 💋💋)

comments. . .

fraserminten can u delete this

user26 ooh this is weird behaviour

user27 y/n liked :(

user28 ew this is bitchy as fuckkk

user29 the brackets werent needed dude

fraserminten delete this now

user30 this is so fucking odd😭

user31 youre not edgy or cool for this btw

user32 literally wtf are u doing weirdo

yncrosby (august 1st)

♫ taylor swift • call it what you want

yncrosby oh how i missed hockey prep

liked by fraserminten,pittsburghpenguins and 31.2k other

comments. . .

fraserminten hahaha unblock me please

↳ yncrosby lol no gtf

sidneycrosby 🥴

yourbf 🙂

nathanmackinnon it missed u too

macklincelebrini seems like something else missed u!

user33 wait sid looks good af im screaming

user34 why is her bf dry as hell like hype her up bro

↳ user35 fr this is why she shouldve got with fraser instead!

user36 hmm something feels off

macklincelebrini wow these comments are just wild and true!

↳ yncrosby dont u have ur own boyfriend to attend to

↳ yourbf ??

↳ yncrosby ignore him

user37 have u guys seen that photo taken of her on twitter i think theyve broken up

sidneycrosby 💕

↳ user38 jst completely ignoring the rest of the comments LOL

yncrosby (august 29th)

♫ fleetwood mac • silver springs

liked by yourexbf, yourfriend2 and 72.5k others

yncrosby #ihatementhatarentmydad

comments. . .

user39 HOLD TF UP THAT 2ND SLIDE IS IN BOSTON.

↳ yncrosby yall are STALKERS holy shittt 😣

fraserminten :/

yourfriend2 i love ur dad too babe

user40 WELL THATS CONFORMATION ATLEAST

user41 no like im gagged but im not cos he literally never posted her

sidneycrosby love you too bug!

macklincelebrini AND EVERYONE CHEERS

↳ yncrosby LOLLL STOP

↳ user42 he was WAITING for this breakup..he hated that man im dying

↳ willsmith2 we both started celebrating in the living room #breakupcocktailssoon

nathanmackinnon oh thank goodness

yourfriend4 THANK FUCK

user43 yourexbf hate club guys??

yourexbf yall acting like im the spawn of satan tf

↳ yncrosby probably cos u cheated on me bud!

texts from october

yncrosby (october 24th)

♫ madison beer • make you mine

liked by fraserminten, sidneycrosby and 16.9k others

yncrosby strictly netural tonight ;)

comments. . .

macklincelebrini this is what the fans wanna see

fraserminten 😛

yourfriend2 YIPPIE

user44 macklins comments get me every time bro

user45 wait nobody move they might cut off all communication outside of instagram comments again

sidneycrosby hmmm

↳ user46 tf does unc mean hmmm

user47 YES YES YES

user48 i wish i was a hockey nepo baby so i could go out with macklin

↳ macklincelebrini hi

↳ yncrosby stop hitting on girls in my comment section u freak

yourfriend3 oh thank fuck i was sick of yourexessname

nathanmackinnon yay he can come hang with us in summer again

yncrosby (nov 18th)

♫ clairo • bags

liked by sidneycrosby, fraserminten and 76.1k others

yncrosby oh boston i <3 u too @/fraserminten

comments. . .

user49 OMG IS THIS CONFORMATION THEYRE TOGETHER

↳ yncrosby yes

fraserminten <3

macklincelebrini i never thought the day would come

user50 i think i just passed out omfg

nathanmackinnon WOOOO

sidneycrosby thank goodness for that!

yourfriend1 YAYYY

randomgirl lol idgaf

↳ yncrosby sounds like u gaf :)

user51 twitter is going wild

user52 idk who im more jealous of

nhlgossip THANK GOD THAT WAS SO MUCH TO REPORT

[cattyb2]

post-op promises | connor bedard

Pairing: connor bedard x reader!gf

Prompt: wisdom teeth removal isn’t so bad, not when you’ve got your boyfriend by your side… even when you don’t fully know what you’re saying to him

Warnings: wisdom teeth removal (no in depth medical descriptions)!

requested!

“Can we just go get ice cream instead?” You beg, not looking at your boyfriend as you ask. Your eyes stay glued to the entrance of the building. Connor chuckles softly next to you as he takes your shaking hand into his steady one.

“I promise we can get ice cream when you’re feeling better.” He says, his eyes trained on your face.

“I don’t want to go in.” You whisper, and the nervousness in your voice makes Connor’s heart crack a bit.

“Then we sit here for a few more minutes, but I promise I’ll be there for you the entire time.”

That’s the thing about Connor, is that he never pushes too hard. He lets you express how terrified you are about a medical procedure, but stands strong enough to know how you pull you out of it.

The waiting room is blue, very blue. Blue walls, blue carpeting, blue cushions on the chairs, ocean paintings and one of a sailboat with…. surprise… a blue sail. You clutch the blue pen in your hand, your writing shaky as you fill out forms.

“Let me, baby.” Connor says lightly, noting how jagged your writing has become.

“Everything is blue.” You whisper, not even noticing as Connor fills out your information because he knows all of it without having to ask.

“Blue is calming.” Connor tries to reason.

“It’s making me want to puke.” You say, and his hand stops writing as his gaze snaps to you. Before he can say anything your name rings out in the waiting room.

“Con.” You say, as you take in the smiling nurse at the door.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m with you, and everything is going to go great. You’re safe.” He says as he stands with you, but the comfort leaves as the nurse says the thing you’ve been dreading.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, you can wait here for now. We’ll bring you back once she’s all done.”

Connor only nods, no panic, no tension. The cool confidence he gets on the ice settling over his features. And it calms you only a bit to see that he’s not worried.

“You’ll be okay.” He says finally.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

—

The time drags as Connor sits in the insanely blue waiting room. He lets his eyes close as he remembers how you looked as you walked through the doors with the nurse. He knows how much you hate medical stuff, knows how bad you’ve been worrying about this.

His phone buzzing breaks him out of his thoughts, and he reads the texts from Frank Nazar.

Frank: Chicken noodle or tomato?

Connor: Chicken noodle, but the low sodium one. She’ll complain if it’s too salty

Frank: Aye aye cap. What else?

Connor: yogurt, but only peach flavored. Pudding, applesauce, maybe bananas?

Frank: Sounds good….

Frank: Dad

Connor: Shut up

Connor shakes his head, grinning down at his phone until now it was his name being said in the waiting room. His head snaps up as the same nurse stands in front of the open door. He sits up quickly, his phone and conversation with Frank long forgotten.

“That’s me.” He says, walking towards the woman, anxious to get back to you.

“She did great.” She says with a soft smile. “She’s a little tired, but very sweet.”

Connor raises his eyebrows, not that he was questioning two things he knows very well about, but he wasn’t exactly expecting that out of the nurse.

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” He says with a smile as he starts to follow the nurse down the long hallway, and he stops in his tracks as he finally sees you.

You’re sitting in the chair, the sleeves of his hoodie you insisted on wearing pulled over your hands, your eyes hooded and groggy. Your face looks a bit puffy, but very tired, and in that moment Connor has never wanted to take care of you more in his life.

Your eyes widen a bit as Connor stands in front of you, hat backwards on his head, a plain navy sweatshirt, black shorts that hug thick thigh muscles.

“Hey baby.” You hear him say, and before you can question him, before you can even process the words, the tone of his voice, the sound of it, you know then that you’re safe. Your heart slows into a steady rhythm, and you feel the need to bask in his gaze. But the daze of the drugs cloud your judgement.

“Don’t call me that.” You mumble as you look at him. Now, somewhere deep inside you, you know this is Connor. This is your boyfriend who bends over backwards for you and says it’s the minimum of what you deserve. And as every second passes it becomes clearer to you that it’s him, but there’s something about the fog that’s gripping your mind. Something about it that’s not letting you fully believe he’s here.

“No?” Connor asks, coming to stand next to you. “How come?”

“No. I have a boyfriend.”

The nurse turns her back, and you miss it, but Connor doesn’t miss how her shoulders shake ever so slightly. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at you as he answers back.

“You do?”

“Mhm.” You nod very seriously, almost offended that he wouldn’t know that.

“What’s his name?” Connor asks, sitting down in the chair the nurse nodded her head towards.

“Connor.” You say, like the question is the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. “He’s perfect. He buys me flowers every Sunday, and he knows that I like M&M’s in my popcorn. He says he doesn’t put extra in but I know he does. Plus he’s very pretty. I don’t think he realizes it, but I think my heart stops whenever he looks at me like-“ you stop talking, your eyes widening a bit.

“Looks at you like what?”

“Like that.” You say, pointing directly at Connor’s face, like the man next to you isn’t your boyfriend. “He looks at me like that, how did you do that?” You ask him.

“I happen to know him pretty well.” The Connor look a like says to you.

“You can’t tell him I said that.” You say, reaching out for his hand. “It’s a secret.”

“What is?” He asks, and you roll your eyes at how this Connor look a like isn’t seeing the bigger picture.

“You can’t tell him how much I love him.” You whisper, reaching with your other hand to press a finger to your lips.

“Okay.” He whispers, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I won’t tell Connor.”

You hum and nod, like that is the best news you’ve heard all day, but you watch him as the nurse starts going over post surgery procedures. He nods, asking questions and flipping through a packet. The Connor look a like is starting to become less suspicious to you.

When it’s time to leave Connor helps you stand, letting you lean fully into him as you both slowly make your way to the car. You giggle as you sway, and his arm is firm on your side so you don’t go tumbling down.

“Connor?” You ask finally as you’re in the car, Connor reaching over to buckle you into the front seat, and in all honesty you don’t remember ever getting to the car.

“Yeah baby?” He asks, stopping and waiting for you to say whatever it is.

“You’re my Connor?” You ask, your fingers going up to brush at his face. You feel his slightly warm skin, then they trace a scar.

“I’m your Connor.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Good. I hope he knows I love him.”

“He knows.”

“I wanna marry him.” You admit, and Connor has to pretend like the admission doesn’t knock the air out of his lungs. “I want to wear a white dress, and I want to tell everyone about him. I want to have kids someday too. I think he’d be the best dad.” Your words are spewing out at his point, and as Connor gets settled into the drivers seat he has to act, once again, like you haven’t completely destroyed him in the best possible way. “But you can’t tell him.” You say again, your droopy eyes meeting his.

Connor wants to play along, knows he probably should because you’re in no state of mind for anything serious. But he can’t, not after that. “It might be a little hard not telling him.” He starts to say as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Considering I am Connor.”

You freeze then, eyes going wide as you watch him. But they take in everything familiar, everything around you that confirms that statement.

“Well,” you say giggling slightly. “I guess the cats out of the bag.” Connor laughs so hard he has to tighten both hands on the wheel, and you look very proud for someone who has gauze in her mouth and no idea what day it is.

“Yeah,” he says, still laughing softly. “I guess it is.”

—

By the time he pulls into the apartment parking garage, you’re half asleep. Connor comes around to your side, opens the door, and crouches a bit in front of you.

“Hey, baby. We’re home.” He whispers, trying to be as soft as he can to wake you. Your eyes open halfway.

“Home?”

“Yeah. Come on.” He says, reaching over you to unbuckle your seatbelt.

Getting you upstairs is a careful operation. You insist on walking because you refuse to let the fake Connor carry you. So, Connor keeps one arm around your waist and one hand holding yours, guiding you slowly. You lean into him heavily, occasionally stopping for no reason, and occasionally to ask a question.

Like when you had to pause in the hallway and whisper, “Are my teeth gone?”

Connor nods with pure honesty. “Some.”

“All of them?” You question, looking horrified.

“Just the ones with wisdom.” Connor says, biting his lip to keep from laughing at his own joke, and that seems to be enough that you calm down again. When you finally make it to your door Connor opens it, letting you in first as he steps in directly behind you. The place smells warm, it smells like your home.

“There she is.” A familiar voice says as you turn your head that direction. You see a man you swear you know, the dark hair and cheesy smile so familiar to you. And Connor barely has time to adjust before you’re moving towards the man standing in your kitchen. “How are you feeling?” He asks as you stand in front of him.

“I have a secret to tell you.” You say, stumbling a bit but both Connor and Frank catch you before you could go anywhere. Connor lets go, knowing his best friend has you. He smirks a bit as Frank’s eyes flick to his from over your shoulder.

“A secret?” Frank asks you, like he’s absolutely appalled.

You nod, and before anyone can question you it comes out yet again. “I want to marry Connor.”

You think you’re whispering, you truly do. Frank’s mouth twitches at your confession. His eyes continually moving between yours and Connor’s.

“Oh yeah?” Frank questions you, and you stick your fingers over your lips as if to say shh. Frank brings his fingers to his own lips, and acts like he’s zipping them shut.

“He’s so pretty.” You say again, and from behind you Connor clears his throat, which is a sad attempt of trying to mask the laugh that was bubbling up. The sound catches your attention, and you look shocked as you take in Connor.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask him, your body moving to try to get to him. Frank steadies you as Connor gets to you and secures you into him.

“I’ve been here the whole time baby.” He says, and you blink, slowly turning your gaze backwards to Frank’s.

“Betrayal.” You whisper to him, and Connor leads you over to the couch so you do not see how tight Frank is pressing his lips together.

The living room has been completely transformed. Your favorite blanket is on the couch. Your pillow is propped up exactly the way you like it. There’s a water bottle on the side table, tissues, medication instructions, but it’s the familiar Blackhawks sweatshirt in the corner that gets you the most. Your favorite sweatshirt. You stare at all of it as you sink into the couch, emotional and sleepy and trying very hard to stay upright.

“Thank you, Frank.” You whisper.

Frank’s face softens.

“Anytime.” He says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m gonna head out. Call me if you need anything.”

And before anyone could respond a sound comes from you, you who’s half lying on the couch, cheeks puffy, eyes barely open, one hand patting around the cushion like you’re searching for him even though he’s only a few feet away. Frank looks at Connor for a second longer, then smiles knowingly. Connor shoves him lightly toward the door.

“Get out.” Connor says, and Frank laughs as he waves and leaves the apartment. Connor locks up, then comes back into the living room and grabs the remote.

“Movie?” He asks and you nod immediately. He doesn’t ask which one, he doesn’t need to. The second the movie starts playing, you make a pleased little sound and pat the couch beside you harder this time.

“You want me there?” Connor asks with a smile, and you answer with another pat, this one even more insistently. “Okay, okay.” He chuckles as he sits beside you carefully, not too fast, not jostling you. You immediately shift toward him, and Connor adjusts, lifting his arm so you can tuck yourself against his side.

The hoodie you stole from him this morning has gotten bunched around your neck, trapping some of your hair awkwardly underneath the fabric. Connor notices before you can even reach for it.

“Hold on baby,” he murmurs. His fingers are gentle as he pulls your hair free from the hoodie neckline. Then he combs his hand through it slowly, smoothing it down over your shoulder.

“That feels nice.” You murmur, your speech still slightly slurred as your eyes close.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You answer, and Connor keeps doing it. Soft passes of his fingers through your hair, careful and steady. The movie plays quietly in front of you, but he isn’t really watching it. He’s watching you, the way your face finally relaxes, the way your breathing slows. The way you trust him enough to fall apart and to let him hold you while you’re not fully yourself.

You sigh, sinking deeper against him, and Connor tucks the blanket around your lap. For a few minutes, you’re quiet. Then your hand moves slowly until it finds his sweatshirt. You grip it weakly.

“Connor?” His heart squeezes at the way you say his name.

“Yeah, baby?”

Your eyes stay closed as you say, “I’m so very in love with you.” The words are barely there, coming out sleepy and muffled. But they hit him straight in the chest as Connor leans down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m so very in love with you too, baby.”

A few seconds later, your body goes limp against his, fully asleep. The movie keeps playing as Connor’s phone buzzes on the arm of the couch. He glances down carefully, trying not to move you.

Frank: Bedsy.

Connor: She was loopy

Frank: She’s in love. It just came out when she was loopy Frank: Also, I know there’s a ring in your apartment

Connor: You aren’t supposed to bring that up

Frank: She literally told me she wants to marry you while you stood ten feet away smirking like a fucking idiot.

Connor looks back down at you. Your face is calm for the first time all day, your hair slightly messy, but he runs his fingers through it gently as he responds.

Connor: While she was loopy

Frank: She just told a man she thought was NOT Connor that she wants to marry Connor

Frank: Then found out he WAS Connor and basically said “oops, secret’s out.” What more do you need man?

Connor hesitates before typing back, a smile large on his face.

Connor: You’re annoying

He lets a second go by until he types a second text.

Connor: Start practicing your speech

[bambilenny]

Would u ever write for skepta x

no sorry! x

[bambilenny]

hi chat send me smau requests

[whereisarthurtv]

not AB using the r slur in the big 26 what the fuck