Sera

@Belli5 is my main acc 🥰

[belli-5]

Hi! I just wanted to come here and say that this is my second account. Some may know that my other account is @belli5

And I just wanted to let you all know this, because both of my accounts have the same email so when I try to follow someone back, it just automatically follows from this account.

Also I’m going to be back from my vacation soon so I’ll continue to write all my drafts. 😚

[belli5]

ONE LESS NIGHT AS FRIENDSᵎᵎ JH¹⁰

╰ Synopsis You’ve been best friends with James since freshers’ week, sharing everything. After he confesses his feelings and you panic about ruining it all, two weeks later you finally kiss him at sunset on the beach and admit you want to be more than friends.

tags/contains James Hagens x fem!reader. Slight angst with fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slight conflict, friends doing lover things, kissing.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. This was a cute idea I thought I could write for James, so I would love feedback, especially now that it’s my first writing for James. So I hope it reaches the audience. Also please join my taglist if you’re interested!

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You and James have been best friends since the very beginning of college. To some people, two years might not sound like much, but for the two of you, it feels like a lifetime.

It all started in that first Intro to Psych lecture during freshman year, you were already seated when he rushed in late and dropped into the chair next to yours with an apologetic grin and a whispered excuse about traffic.

You laughed quietly, surprised by how easy it felt, and that was all it took. From that moment on, you clicked instantly. Study sessions stretched into late nights in the library, shared playlists became a ritual, and the rule formed: wherever one of you went, the other was right there too.

You’ve always been each other’s automatic plus one for parties, family events, random campus outings, even awkward group dinners. Neither of you ever seriously tried dating anyone else. Why would you, when you already had this? The inside jokes no one else understood, the stolen glances across crowded rooms, the way you could communicate with just a raised eyebrow.

You’ve shared beds more times than you can count, crashing after movie nights, when one of you was too tired to walk back to your own dorm, or just because it felt normal.

Lately, though, something has changed. Those innocent moments like his arm slung over your shoulders, your head on his chest while you both scroll on your phones, waking up tangled in the same blankets don’t feel quite so innocent anymore. Your stomach flutters with butterflies you can’t ignore, a warmth that spreads through your chest whenever he laughs.

The truth is, the attraction has been there since day one. You noticed his eyes first, those beautiful blue ones that catch the light like they’re holding secrets and every time he looks at you a little too long, or brushes your hand “by accident,” it stirs something deep inside.

But you’ve never said a word about it. Not to him, not even to yourself most days because what if confessing changes everything? What if crossing that line ruins the one perfect thing in your life? James is your person, the one who knows your worst habits, your dumbest fears, the songs that make you cry for no reason. Losing that would break you in ways you’re not sure you could recover from.

So you keep it to yourself. You tell yourself the flirting is just how you are together, that the tension is one sided, or at least not strong enough to risk everything. You’ve listened to his stories about his exes from past and felt an ache, but you always pushed it down, reminding yourself that your friendship is more important than any fleeting crush. And James has also never pushed, it was like an invisible boundary you both respected.

And yet the feelings keep growing. Every late night talk, every time he saves the last slice of pizza for you even when he’s starving, every casual touch that lingers a second too long, it all adds up. You wonder if he feels it too. You wonder how much longer you can pretend you don’t.

That’s how it all led you here to another “casual” dinner that James insisted on, claiming it was just like other times. He picked you up in his car, windows down, your favorite playlist humming through the speakers, and took you to that little Italian place near campus you both love.

The conversation flowed easy as always: laughing about your professor’s latest rant, debating whether pineapple belongs on pizza, stealing bites from each other’s plates. Nothing felt different on the surface.

But tonight, James had a purpose. You could tell from the way his knee bounced under the table, the way he kept glancing at you like he was memorizing something. He didn’t say why but just smiled when you asked and said, “Can’t a guy take his best friend out without an agenda?”

After dinner, he drove you to the beach instead of back to campus. The sun was already low, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds. You kicked off your sandals, letting the warm sand sift between your toes as you walked toward the water. James spread his hoodie out on the ground like a blanket so your dress wouldn’t get sandy, then sat beside you.

The waves rolled in gently, and for a while you just talked about nothing and everything, the way you always do. Then he went quiet taking a breath in. “Y/n,” he said. “There’s a reason I took you out tonight.”

You turned to him. “Like what?”

He looked out at the horizon for a second, then back at you. “I’ve felt something for you since the day I saw you. That first lecture, you laughed at my dumb joke and.. I don’t know, something just clicked. And it never stopped, every late night, every inside joke, every time we crash in the same bed and I wake up with you curled against me, it doesn’t feel like just friends anymore. I think about kissing you all the time. I think about being more than this, and it scares me how much I want it.”

He paused, swallowing. “I don’t know how you feel about any of this. But I need to know, if you don’t feel the same, we can go back and pretend this night never happened. I’d rather have you as my best friend forever than not at all.”

Your chest tightened, the words you’d buried for years rose up. “I.. I’ve felt it too,” you admitted. “For a long time. The way my stomach flips when you smile at me, the way I notice everything about you: your laugh, your hands, the way you always make sure I’m okay. I want you.”

James’s face lit up, hopeful smile breaking across it. He looked like he couldn’t believe his luck.

But then the fear crashed in, the same fear that had kept you silent all these two years. “But..” you continued, looking down at the sand. “I don’t think we can be together.”

His smile faltered. “Why not? I want to see if it works, Y/n. Come on, we’ve literally slept in the same bed a thousand times. We act like a couple half the time already, that’s not what best friends do and then pretend nothing’s changed.”

“You want to just try and see if it works?” Your voice cracked a little. “What if it ruins our friendship? What if we break up and can’t even look at each other? Is our friendship not important enough for you?”

He stared at you, hurt flickering in his eyes. “You think I don’t know how much this could cost? You’re the most important person in my life and that’s why I’m terrified too. But I’m more scared of spending the rest of my life wondering ‘what if’ than I am of trying and maybe failing.”

You shook your head, tears pricking. “I can’t risk losing you, James. Not even for a chance at something more. You’re my safe place and if this goes wrong, I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

The back and forth went on: him gently pushing, reminding you of all the ways you already blurred the lines, you pulling back, repeating that the friendship was everything.

Finally, James looked down at his hands, fingers twisting together in the sand. His shoulders sagged. “Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you need.. then we can stay friends.”

The words sounded like they cost him something. He didn’t look at you right away, he just stared at the waves, jaw tight. Deep down, he knew why he was agreeing. Because losing you completely would destroy him more than unreturned feelings ever could. Even if the rejection stung twice as hard knowing you felt the same, knowing you were choosing safety over the possibility of us.

The silence stretched. The sunset glowed around you both, beautiful and bittersweet.

When you parted ways that night, walking back to your separate dorms under the quiet streetlights, the air felt heavier than it should have. You said goodnight like always exchanging quick hugs but the space between you stretched wider than the sidewalk.

In your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the conversation replayed on loop. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they were there, silent and hot. You wiped them away, but more came. Had you just thrown away the one thing you’d wanted most? Or had you saved the only thing that truly mattered?

The next few days, you and James were the same as ever, inside jokes, late night texts, casual shoulder bumps in the hallway. Nothing changed on the surface, and you clung to that gratitude like a lifeline.

But every night, the what ifs kept you awake. And you knew, deep down, they probably kept you awake more than it kept him awake.

Two weeks later, you found yourself back at the beach with James, watching the sunset the way you’d started doing almost every clear evening. It had quietly become one of your favorite things. Neither of you had mentioned the confession again, but the memory sat between you like a third person.

When you arrived, James spread his hoodie out on the sand just like always, patting it so you could sit without getting your jeans dirty. “Can’t have you complaining about sand in your pockets later,” he teased.

You settled side by side, the sun hung low, spilling light across his face. He started talking about the upcoming game, how practice had been brutal but good, how the new plays were finally clicking, how Coach actually smiled.

His hands moved as he spoke, animated, eyes bright with that quiet excitement he only let out when he was really happy. He looked so.. pretty. The way the golden light caught in his lashes, the easy curve of his smile, the way he laughed at his own story about almost face planting during drills. You watched him, heart full and aching all at once.

And then the other night came rushing back, the way he’d looked at you on this same stretch of sand, open and hopeful, the way you’d pushed him away even though every part of you had wanted to pull him closer. Regret hit you like a wave.

You didn’t know why it chose this exact second, but suddenly you couldn’t stand another moment of pretending. “You talk so much,” you interrupted jokingly.

Before he could respond, your hand found his jaw, fingers gentle against the warm skin there. You pulled him in and kissed him.

For two heartbeats he froze, his lips still, breath caught. Then he melted into it, his hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers in your hair and he kissed you back like he’d been waiting his whole life for permission.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard together. Laughter bubbled up at the same time, giddy and a little disbelieving.

“Wow,” James said, voice shy, cheeks flushed. He ducked his head, rubbing his neck.

You grinned, reaching out to touch his hair. “Don’t get shy on me now, Hagens.”

He looked up at you through his lashes, that familiar spark back in his eyes. “What about the friendship?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head, still playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck. “Hm. I don’t know.” Your thumb traced the line of his jaw. “Kissing you did feel pretty amazing. What do you think?”

A hopeful smile spread across his face. “I think..” He leaned in again, voice dropping against your lips. “I’ll need to kiss you again to decide.”

This time the kiss was slower and deeper with less surprise, and more certainty. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. When you broke apart, noses brushing, he let out a soft laugh.

“Definitely nicer,” he murmured, eyes shining.

The kisses slowed, but neither of you pulled away completely. “So..” he murmured, “what does this mean now?”

You smiled against his lips, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “What do you want it to mean? Do you still like me.. more than a friend?”

He laughed quietly, the sound relieved. “Of course I do. You rejecting me didn’t change a single thing. I’ve liked you like this for two years. And yeah, I’d definitely want us to be more if you do.”

Your fingers tightened gently in his hair. “I do too.”

TAGLIST: @celebrinigf, @postgamevibes.

Join the taglist here.

[belli5]

GRUMPYᵎᵎ CB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis Connor taking care of you when you’re on your period, even though you get a little grumpy.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Fluff, reader being a little grumpy, Connor being a good boyfriend, Connor taking care of you, mentions of period, nothing that I’m aware of.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. I got so many requests, and I’m excited to write every single one of them 🤞

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

The apartment was quiet, you were curled up on the couch, blanket piled over you. A heating pad was pressed against your stomach, and your phone laid abandoned beside you, the energy to scroll through anything had long disappeared.

The front door clicked open, and you heard Connor’s voice before you saw him.

“Hey, babe!” He called softly, kicking his shoes off. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door and peeked into the living room, smiling when he saw you.

“Hey,” you murmured, flatly.

Connor frowned slightly, though not in a worried way, he just wanted to know what happened. Usually you’d be up to greet him, wrapping your arms around his waist or pulling him down for a long kiss. Today, you barely glanced over your shoulder.

He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Missed you.”

You hummed but didn’t kiss him back. That made him stop, because you would always chase him for a second one, maybe tug him down for a third, giggling against his mouth.

“Everything okay?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, staring back at the tv. “Just not feeling like it.”

“Okay..” he hesitated, but you didn’t seem angry. Maybe she’s had a long day, he thought. He decided not to press.

Connor went to the kitchen, unpacking the takeout he grabbed on his way home. He glanced at you from across the room once or twice. You hadn’t moved, you didn’t even reach for your phone when it buzzed. Definitely not your usual energy.

When he went back to the living room, you were still in the same spot, arms folded under the blanket.

He dropped onto the couch beside you, his arms automatically sliding around your shoulders. “C’mere,” he murmured, ready to pull you into his side like always.

But you stiffened, inching away. “Connor, no.”

He froze. “No?”

“I just don’t wanna cuddle right now..” you mumbled.

“Oh.” He blinked, a little taken aback. “Okay, sorry. I didn’t know that.”

You sighed, guilt flickering across your face but not enough to make you turn toward him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just..” you didn’t finish.

He nodded, sitting back, pulling away from you. The silence was awkward for a few moments, tension hanging between you.

Connor hated not knowing what was wrong. He thought back to yesterday. Did he say something? Forgot to text? Leave a mess in the kitchen? But no, nothing came to mind.

He decided to give you space, quietly scrolling through his phone. After about twenty minutes, you started shifting under the blanket. Your body slowly leaned toward him.

Connor felt your head rest against his shoulder, he didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured quietly, voice muffled by his shirt.

“For what?”

“For being snappy,” you said, sighing. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He smiled a little. “You weren’t rude.”

“I kinda was.” You peeked up at him, eyes a little glassy, lip pouty. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He chuckled softly and brushed his thumb over your jaw. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Ugh, it’s just my body hurts.”

That’s when he came to realisation, the heating pad cord trailing off the couch, the way you snapped, then apologised, then cuddled up all clingy again.

Oh.

“Ohh,” Connor said softly under his breath realisation dawning.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You frowned, confused. “Where are you going?”

“I forgot something at the store,” he said, grabbing his keys.

“It’s like seven o clock.. it can wait-”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick!” He called, slipping on his shoes. “Don’t move.”

You rolled your eyes. “Connor, what are you-”

The door closed before you could finish.

He came back twenty five minutes later, arms full of plastic bags. You heard the door click and turned around from the couch, blanket still pulled up to your chin.

“What did you forget at the store?” You asked suspiciously.

He dropped the bags on the counter and started unpacking them. “Oh, you know.. essentials.”

You craned your neck to see, and your heart melted a little. Out came your favourite chocolate bar, two pints of your go to ice cream, sour candy, a bag of chips, and a heating pad refill pack.

You blinked, stunned. “Connor..”

He turned, smiling sheepishly. “I, uh.. figured out what’s going on.”

You groaned. “Oh my God.”

He laughed softly, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your period?”

“Because it’s gross and annoying,” you mumbled.

“Not gross,” he said immediately, reaching over to brush some hair out of your face. “And if it’s annoying, I can at least help a little.”

You peeked up at him again, cheeks warm. “You didn’t have to buy all that.”

“I wanted to.” He opened one of the chocolate bars, breaking off a piece and holding it near your mouth. “C’mon.”

You giggled despite yourself and leaned forward, letting him feed it to you.

“Is it good?” He asked.

You nodded, chewing. “Very.”

Connor grinned and leaned back, one arm sliding behind you again, this time you didn’t pull away. You moved closer, curling against his chest, head resting right over his heartbeat. He wrapped the blanket tighter around both of you.

Connor glanced down at you, still bundled up in the blanket on the couch, half asleep and clearly still uncomfortable. He brushed his fingers through your hair gently.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Why don’t I make you a bath? You’ll feel better.”

You opened one eye, suspicious but touched. “You’d do that for me?”

He chuckled. “I think I’ve earned boyfriend of the year, don’t you?”

You giggled softly as he got up, heading to the bathroom. You could hear the water running a minute later. He was careful with everything, testing the temperature, pouring in just enough of the lavender scented soak, even lighting one of your candles.

A few minutes later, he reappeared at the doorway, arms crossed, the faintest hint of pride on his face.

“All right,” he said. “It’s ready. Just how you like it: warm, not too hot, bubbles and candles.”

You smiled sleepily up at him, your heart melting a little. “Thanks, babe.”

He leaned down, kissing the top of your head. “Anything else you need?”

You pretended to think, then looked up at him with mischievous glint. “Hmm.. maybe you can come wash my back later if I need help?”

Connor froze for a second, then laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears turned pink. “Oh, really?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you insist.”

He leaned closer. “You’re lucky, I’ve done that hundreds of times.”

You laughed at his shyness, brushing a kiss to his cheek before heading to the bathroom. “Guess that means I’ll be getting some extra thorough back scrubbing later, huh?”

Connor’s laugh followed you down the hall. “We’ll see about that, trouble.”

[belli5]

STRONG WHERE IT MATTERSᵎᵎ WS²

╰ Synopsis Going to the gym with your hockey boyfriend, with him trying to show off, Will gets a little humbled by his girlfriend.

tags/contains Will Smith x fem!reader. Fluff, gym reader, muscular reader, tall reader (5’9-5’10), older reader (in my mind it’s 2 years), plus sized (kinda), those things are really not mentioned but keep in mind that this is what the story is about!

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. Gtfo, I wrote this while a show was playing in the background and they were talking about some weird shi, ion even wanna say what they were talking about 😭

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You have been at the gym with Will plenty of times before, but somehow, everytime he tagged along it turned into a flirting session, and maybe one or two actual workout.

Today you actually planned on focusing on what you wanted to do. He had his hockey training planned out, balance drills, some terrifying looking plyometric exercises.

You had your leg day mapped, hip thrusts, squats, the abductor machine and whatever you felt like doing.

But the second Will finished his warm up, you could feel his eyes on you.

You were halfway through a set of walking lunges when you caught him glancing over between his sets, pretending to rest but obviously just watching you move.

“You’re not busy, Will?” You tease, placing the dumbbells back down and straightening up.

He grins, hair damp with sweat, his gray training shirt sticking to his chest and arms. “Hmm, no not that busy.” He says, pretending to shrug casually. “Can you blame me, though?”

You roll your eyes, even though the smile on your face is saying something otherwise. “You’re supposed to be training, not flirting.”

“I can multitask,” he says, flashing a grin that’s all mischief. He tosses the medicine ball onto the mat and wanders over to where you’re stretching between sets. “Besides, I’m training my neck muscles right now, by looking at you.”

You snort, “that’s not how it works.”

“It could be,” he insists, leaning against a nearby machine. “Anyway, I think I’m getting bigger. You see it, right?” He flexes his right arm in the most exaggerated way possible, his expression totally serious. “Be honest.”

You raise an eyebrow pretending to study him. “Hmm..” you tilt your head thoughtfully. “You’re big where it matters.”

He freezes, his grin faltering into a flustered smile. “Wait- what does that mean?”

You smirk, stepping around him toward the abductor machine. “Exactly what it sounds like. Totally, your heart!”

Will laughs, running a hand through his messy hair as he follows you. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go lift something before your trainer finds out that you’ve been flirting more than working out.”

“Actually, my trainer said to focus on my mental strength,” he fires back, sitting down beside you on the floor while you start your next set. “And you test that everyday, so technically I’m still training.”

You try not to smile as you push your knees out against the resistance pads, focusing on your reps. It’s a tough set, and you can feel the burn spreading through your thighs.

The machine squeaks softly as you exhale through each push, sweat glistening along your collarbone.

Will, of course, won’t shut up.

“So, anyway,” he starts, “you’ll never believe what happened at practice yesterday. Mack tried to chirp me while drilling, but he tripped over the puck and nearly faceplanted into the boards.”

You start laughing even though your legs are on fire. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m not mean! I helped him up after. But then he said I try too hard in gym, so now I have to get stronger, just to prove him wrong.”

You raise an eyebrow, pushing through another rep. “Is that why you’re suddenly obsessed with getting bigger?”

“Maybe,” he admits. “Or maybe I just want to impress my hot, super buff girlfriend who’s out here doing leg day like it’s nothing.”

Your cheeks heat, and you shake your head with a little smile. “What are you on right now, Will?”

He grins, leaning forward on his knees. “Pure protein and love, baby.”

You groan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think I’m getting more bigger,” he continues, flexing again. “Let me show you show strong I am, girl.”

You nearly choke on a laugh. “What?”

“Yeah!” He stands dramatically and points at your machine. “Let me try that thing.”

“Oh no,” you say, already laughing. “Will-”

But he’s already sliding into the seat, almost pushing you off until you climb off on your own, and he even looks so proud of himself that you don’t stop him.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands once. “How hard this can be?”

You bite back a smile. “Go ahead, big guy.”

He grabs the handles, sets his feet against the pads, and tries to push them apart, but the machine barely moves. His legs tremble slighty, his face scrunches up in concentration.

“Okay, okay- hang on- this is just a warm up set,” he says, quickly, pretending to adjust his position.

You fold your arms. “You want me to lower the weight?”

“No, no, I got it,” he insists, his legs tense, his thighs flexing under his shorts, cheeks already pink. He tries again, managing to move the pads just a few inches before exhaling dramatically and giving up. “There’s no way your legs are stronger than mine.. maybe..”

“How rude to say that.”

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah, maybe you out muscled me.”

You’re laughing softly as you step closer, leaning down to kiss the top of his sweaty hair. “Only a little?”

He tilts his head up at you with mock offense. “You think this is funny?”

“Kind of,” you admits “but it’s also really cute.”

“Cute?” He gasps, pretending to glare. “That’s worse. I was going for, you know intimidating. Hockey beast.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You’ll always be my hockey beast, don’t worry.”

He laughs at that but looks down at the floor, still a little sheepish. His hands rest on his knees, his chest rising and falling.

“Still kinda embarrassing, though,” he murmurs after a beat. “That my girlfriend’s got stronger legs than me.”

“Will,” you say quietly, “that’s not embarrassing. You’re perfect the way you are.”

He glances at you, but it seems as if he doesn’t believe you so you kept going.

“I mean it,” you say, resting your hands on his shoulder. “You’re muscular in all the right places: your arms, your back, your chest” you squeeze his thighs, teasingly. “Your thighs too. And you’re soft in all the right places, too. You’ve got that mix, you know? Strong but still warm. It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

His face softens, a slow grin breaking through his embarrassment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You don’t need to out-lift me or anyone else. You already do enough: you push yourself every day for hockey, for your team, for me. That’s strength too.”

He chuckles, “you’re too nice for me.”

“I just tell the truth,” you tease. “And for the record, I like that you’re soft sometimes. It makes cuddling way better.”

He laughs again, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You really know how to make a guy feel better, huh?”

“Always,” you grin.

He sighs dramatically, leaning back against the machine. “Still, kinda hurts my ego a little, though.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “You don’t need to worry about that. All that matters is that you can handle me and I’m very happy about that.”

“You done flirting,” you ask, stepping back with a smile, “or do I need to finish my last set before you distract me again?”

“Oh, I’m never done flirting,” he says, standing up and stretching his arms like he’s showing off. “But fine, I’ll go do my real workout. You keep showing off those killer legs.”

You throw him a look over your shoulder. “I always do.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Then you better keep training, Smitty,” you call, grinning as you adjust the weights again. “You’ll need the stamina.”

He laughs as he walks away, grabbing his water bottle and tossing you one last look. You catch him glancing back once, twice, maybe three times, and each time, he’s still smiling.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you get back to your reps.

[belli5]

Fit just rightᵎᵎ CB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis Could Connor be happier this season because of a girl?

tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, happy Connor happy life.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. In none way I’m saying that Connor is happy this season because he has a girlfriend, this is just fictional. But he will be way more happier in life when he finds ME. 😉

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

It started at the end of last season, quietly and unexpectedly, and without any of the noise that usually followed Connor.

He met you when the air still carried that sharp edge of winter, the kind that clung to your breath and made the inside of the rink feel even colder.

You weren’t the kind of person who fussed over hockey players. You didn’t ask for pictures or autographs, didn’t treat him like he was something unreachable.

To you Connor was just a boy who smiled at the sound of your laugh and who couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to talk to you.

From that first conversation, something shifted in him.

You became like the soft hum of a song you can’t get out of your head. You fit into his life before he could even realize what was happening. Late night facetimes, morning texts, little notes in his duffel bag when you visited Chicago. You became a part of his days in the simplest, most natural way.

And by the time the season rolled over into summer and training camp loomed ahead, Connor was different.

Not unrecognizably so, he was still focused, still driven, still that same perfectionist who studied tape like it was oxygen. But there was something lighter about him now.

And it showed most when he came home and even when playing, on cameras.

Last season, after a tough game, Connor used to carry that heaviness with him: quiet, frustrated, locked inside his own head. But now, when he walked through the door, it was like all that weight melted the moment he saw you.

Even on nights the score didn’t go his way, he’d smile as soon as you greeted him, his shoulders softening when your arms wrapped around his waist.

“You played great,” you tell him, voice muffled against his chest.

He chuckled softly, resting his chin on your hair. “Did I? We lost.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “but you still played great.”

And that was it, he would laugh quietly, that little laugh that a few people got to hear, and press a kiss to your forehead.

Most nights, he would find you curled on the couch, and without a word, he’d sink down beside you, pulling you into his lap.

The game replays might still hum from the tv, but his hands would be tracing lazy circles on your back, his voice soft as he told you about a funny thing that happened in the locker room.

He never came home angry or grumpy anymore, never distant. He couldn’t be when you were there waiting for him, looking at him like he was more than just what the scoreboard said.

It became this quiet ritual: your hand in his hair, his laughter breaking through the silence, the two of you tucked against each other until the world felt simple again. It’s like you were his reset button.

Sometimes he wondered how he ever went without that.

The guys in the locker room noticed before anyone else.

“Bedsy’s in a good mood lately,” one of them joked, grinning across the room after a morning skate. “What’s got you smiling all the time, man?”

Connor just shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I’ve got good reason to be.” But he didn’t elaborate.

It wasn’t that he was hiding you, he wasn’t. He just liked the quietness of what you two had. The privacy of knowing that this was something untouched by the outside world.

The fewer people who knew the details, the better. The relationship didn’t need to be paraded around, because it was real in all the ways that mattered.

Still, it was impossible to ignore how much you changed him.

The cameras caught it anyway. The smiles during warmups. The playful glances toward his teammates when he scored. The way he lit up in interviews, not just answering questions, but genuinely happy to be there.

Almost everybody had noticed.

When the official Chicago Blackhawks tiktok account filmed a video, asking the players questions.

They asked each player who their emergency contact was. Some answered “my mom,” others “my roommate.” But when they asked the same question to Connor, his answer came immediately.

“Probably my girlfriend,” he said with that soft, almost shy smile.

He was completely, helplessly, beautifully in love with you.

Every game felt different for him now.

When you were in the arena, he could always find you. It didn’t matter how far up you were sitting or how loud the crowd got, he always knew where to look.

One glance from you, one smile, and his chest felt like it was glowing. The world could blur, the game could stretch on forever, but as long as you were there, everything felt right.

And when you couldn’t be there, he played for you anyway.

He knew you were watching from home, probably wearing his clothes, probably curled up under a blanket. The thought alone was enough to make him want to play better. Not because you asked him to, you never did, but because he wanted to give you something to be proud of.

You never told him to score. You never said, you have to be better. You just said, I love watching you play. You look happiest when you’re doing what you love.

That was all it took.

He didn’t realize how much that mattered until you came along. Everyone in his life had always pushed him: coaches, reporters, fans, even himself. But you? You never demanded perfection. You just believed in him.

It made him want to be better anyway.

It made him want to work harder, to skate faster, to smile wider after every goal, knowing that somewhere out there, you were smiling too.

After practices, he’d hum while taking off his gear. He’d text you little updates between meetings. He would facetime you before bed, his voice soft as he asked about your day.

And when the lights of the United Center dimmed after another win, he would think of you, how you would probably be cheering through the screen, how you made every long day feel a little easier.

He didn’t talk about it publicly. There were no social media posts, no interviews about his “girlfriend.” But people didn’t need confirmation to know he was in love. It was written all over his face.

It showed in the way he carried himself.

The way his laughter came easier. The way he spoke with more warmth. The way he started to look like a kid who wasn’t just chasing success, but actually enjoying it.

His teammates teased him sometimes too, of course. “Gotta say, Bedsy, you’re a lot less grumpy this year.”, “I think love looks good on you, man.”

He just grinned and shook his head, cheeks faintly red, refusing to feed into it. But later, in the quiet of his apartment, he smiled at his phone, your text lighting up the screen and he knew he was definitely deep in it.

There were moments when he missed you more than he could admit. When road trips stretched too long and the nights got too quiet.

But even then, your presence lingered. He scrolled through your photos, listen to the little voice messages you sent, laugh at your silly late night thoughts. You were always there, even when you weren’t.

You made everything feel steadier. The pressure, the expectations, the noise: it all felt smaller when you were around. You reminded him that he was allowed to breathe and to rest.

You reminded him that he was enough, even when the goals didn’t come, even when the headlines weren’t kind.

And he loved you for that.

When he saw you waiting for him after a game, standing near the player exit with a smile on your face that never failed to make him smile.

He walked up, hair messy from his helmet, trying to catch his breath and your hand would find his without any doubt.

“Proud of you,” you whispered, like you always did.

He grinned, the grin reaching his eyes and he knew if his teammates caught a sight of this, they would shake their heads fondly.

Because yeah, maybe the season was going well, maybe the team was finally clicking, and maybe the fans were starting to see the promise they’d been waiting for. But maybe it was because of you.

[belli5]

Girl in Bostonᵎᵎ MC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis Macklin going to your pwhl draft with your family, and being there to support you.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x fem!Crosby!reader. Fluff, reader plays hockey, kissing, established relationship, very short.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. Can yall believe I’ve never watched pwhl draft before? That’s exactly why I made it short. 😔💔

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

The morning of the draft felt like a blur. Your dad had been pacing the kitchen since 6am triple checking your outfit like it was his big night instead of yours.

Macklin had slept over at your family’s house, partly because you wanted him there, partly because your dad trusted exactly three people on earth with his daughter and Macklin was one of them.

You were standing in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your cream colored dress, when Macklin came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, the scent of his cologne familiar.

“You look unreal,” he murmured, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Like really really good.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered. “Do I?”

From downstairs, you heard your dad’s voice boom. “Ten minutes! We don’t want to be late!”

You smiled and looked up at Macklin. “He’s more nervous than I am.”

“He’s just proud,” Macklin said softly. “You know he’s been waiting for this since he first tied your skates.”

You exhaled, nerves catching in your throat. “Yeah. I just hope I don’t trip walking to the stage.”

“You won’t,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

The drive to the arena was a mix of quiet excitement and your dad’s constant mini pep talks. Macklin sat beside you in the back seat, fingers loosely intertwined with yours. The cameras outside the draft venue were already flashing as the car pulled up.

“Ready?” your dad asked, turning back to look at you.

“Ready!” you said, even though your stomach was flipping.

Macklin squeezed your hand. “You’ve got this, baby.”

When you stepped out, the noise was overwhelming. Fans were calling your name, and you swore you saw a few signs with both CROSBY and CELEBRINI on them.

You felt Macklin’s hand settle on your lower back as you made your way down the carpet, your dad walking just ahead of you, waving to the cameras.

“Y/n,” one reporter called. “PWHL scouts are saying you’re a lock for the first round, how does it feel to have your dad and your boyfriend here to see it?”

You laughed, cheeks burning. “It’s surreal. I wouldn’t be here without them.”

Inside the arena, the atmosphere was electric, hopeful chatter, bright lights, the distant hum of microphones. You sat between your dad and Macklin.

Your dad was in his element, shaking hands with everyone who passed by, while Macklin kept you grounded: joking and whispering little things to make you smile.

At one point, when the first few picks were being called, he leaned close and murmured, “You realize if you go to Boston, I’m never gonna shut up about it.”

You laughed quietly. “Because you lived there?”

“Because it’ll make it way easier to visit you,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “Plus, you look good in black and gold.”

Your dad must’ve heard that because he gave Macklin a mock stern look. “She looks good in any jersey. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Dad!” You called out, embarrassed.”

Macklin chuckled. “Yes, sir.”

When the Boston GM walked up to the podium, something inside you stilled. Your fingers tightened around Macklin’s. Your dad turned to look at you, eyes bright.

“With the fourth overall pick in the 2025 PWHL Draft..” the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena. “..Boston selects forward, Y/n Crosby.”

The world went quiet for half a second before it erupted in cheers.

Your hands flew to your mouth, tears instantly stinging your eyes. Macklin was the first to move, standing, pulling you up with him, wrapping you in his arms before anyone else could. He kissed your cheek, his voice rough with pride. “You did it, Y/n. You did it.”

You laughed through the tears. “Boston.”

“Boston,” he echoed, grinning.

Your dad was next, hugging you tight, his voice emotional in your ear. “I’m so damn proud of you, kiddo.”

You blinked hard to keep from crying again, hugging him back. “Thank you, Dad.”

After the media frenzy, photos, and a dozen interviews, you finally found a quiet hallway backstage where you could breathe. Macklin appeared a second later, still carrying the little gift bag your grandmother had made for you “for good luck,” she’d said earlier.

He smiled when he saw you. “There’s the newest Bruin.”

You laughed. “Wrong team name, Macklin. Boston doesn’t have a mascot yet.”

“Then they should name it after you,” he teased.

You stepped closer, heart still racing. “You always say the most corniest things ever, you know that?”

He tilted his head. “That’s because I mean it.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into him, kissing you, showing how proud he is of you.

Later, when everyone else was saying their goodbyes outside the restaurant, after dinner, you and Macklin hung back near the curb.

The streetlights threw a soft gold hue over everything. You were still holding your new Boston jersey, the weight of it somehow both light and immense in your hands.

Macklin nudged your shoulder. “Crazy day, huh?”

You exhaled, smiling. “The craziest. I still can’t believe it.”

“I can,” he said. “You’ve been working for this your whole life. Your dad raised you amazing.”

You looked up at him. “So have you.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but tonight’s about you.”

You bit your lip, a warmth filling your chest. “You being here made it better.”

His expression softened. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You leaned up and kissed him, slowly. His hand slid to your waist, the other brushing along your jaw, steadying you like always.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “You know, Boston is lowkey far from San Jose.”

He grinned. “I was just thinking that.”

“That’s not a good thing,” you said, frowning. “Because I want you there for everything. First game, first goal-”

“It’s okay. We’re gonna make it work.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “We always do, don’t we?”

You nodded, you hoped it would truly, because you both always wanted to be there for each other and support whatever you decide.

[belli5]

Party 4 uᵎᵎ CB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis You go to a party just to see Connor, only to watch him with someone else. Until your heartbreak turns into a confession.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Angst with happy ending, implied jealousy, slight heartbreak, mutual pining, friends to lovers ig.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. Lowk a bit dramatic, but is it really Sera’s fic if it isn’t a bit dramatic? 👅 looking forward to posting a Gabe’s fic tonight.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You were never really a party person. Loud music, flashing lights, too many people talking over each other, it wasn’t your thing. But tonight, you went anyway. Because he would be there.

You thought it was just gonna be get together, casual night that your mutual friends threw together. Maybe a few drinks, a few laughs. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Every outfit you tried on tonight had been chosen for him. Every glance in the mirror, every swipe of lipgloss, every small detail was for Connor.

And that was the worst part because he didn’t even know.

The moment you walked in, you saw him. He stood near the kitchen island, shoulders relaxed, laughing with someone, that someone being her. She looked perfect without even trying, wearing confidence like it was her favourite perfume.

She touched his arm as she talked, leaning close enough that he had to dip his head to hear her over the music.

And you just stood there frozen.

You felt the air catch in your throat like you’d been punched in the chest, but you forced a smile anyway, walking past people who greeted you. Someone offered you a drink, and you took it just to keep your hands from shaking.

Connor’s laugh carried across the room, and your heart twisted.

He looked good, just as he always did, hair a little messy, cheeks pink from the heat inside, a half smile on his lips that made it seem like the world existed just to make him happy. And you wanted to be the reason behind his smile. You had always wanted that.

But she was the one making him laugh tonight.

You tried not to stare, but every few seconds, your eyes drifted back to him, as if your body refused to listen to your brain. Every time you looked, it hurt a little more. The music faded into background noise, just a dull thumping that barely reached you.

Someone asked if you were okay. You smiled again, somewhat you practiced hiding everything and meaning nothing.

You weren’t okay.

You always told yourself that being his friend was enough, the late night calls, game nights, and inside jokes were enough. But seeing him like this, with someone else, made it so painfully clear they weren’t.

Because you’d never looked at another guy the way you looked at Connor. And maybe he knew, maybe he always had known. Maybe he just didn’t care, or maybe he didn’t see you the same way which was worse.

You stood there for another minute, drink untouched, chest heavy. Until you couldn’t stand there anymore.

You slipped out of the crowd and made your way toward the door. The night air hit your face like a shock, cool and quiet against the loudness you left behind.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you walked down the street, your vision blurring until the city lights looked like they were underwater.

You called for a taxi. When it pulled up, you climbed inside, sinking into the backseat.

“Where to?” The driver asked.

You gave him your address, voice barely enough. As the car pulled away, you finally let go.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, hot and fast, and you couldn’t bother wiping them away. You turned your face toward the window, watching the city streak by, neon lights and strangers, laughter and music fading into nothing.

It wasn’t fair. You had come to that party for him. You wanted him to see you, to maybe finally, notice you the way you noticed him. But he hadn’t. Or if he did, it hadn’t mattered.

Your phone buzzed.

You looked down at the screen, vision still blurry from crying

Connor Where’d you go?

Of course he noticed once you were gone.

You stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. You could tell him the truth, that you left because you couldn’t stand to see him with her. That you’d been in love with him for what felt like forever. That you’d gone to that stupid party just to be near him.

But what would be the point?

You turned the phone face down and leaned your head against the window. The city kept moving, and so did the car.

You didn’t text back. You didn’t have it in you to pretend.

Connor stood in that crowded house, phone in hand, staring at your name. You hadn’t answered. He replayed the night in his head, the moment he had seen you walk in, the way you looked, like something in him had clicked into place.

He wanted to go over to you, to say something, anything, but the girl beside him kept talking, kept laughing, kept pulling him into conversation he didn’t care about.

And now you were gone.

He stepped outside, scanning the street, hoping you might still be there. But you weren’t. Just the loud music fading behind him, and the echo of your name in his head.

He typed another message, then deleted it. Put his phone in his pocket. Looked up at the stars that you were probably crying under.

Inside the cab, you wiped your cheeks, trying to steady your breathing. The driver didn’t ask questions, you were very grateful for that.

You thought to yourself it’s just one night, you’ll get over him eventually. But deep down, you knew better.

Because when it came to Connor, you never really had a choice.

The taxi ride home had felt endless, like every passing streetlight was counting down the seconds you’d wasted wishing for something that would never happen.

When you finally stumbled into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and leaned against the wall, breath trembling.

You wiped your face, breathing unsteady. The mascara smudged under your eyes burned when you rubbed at it. You stood, wandering toward your bedroom, ready to shut the world out.

Then, a knock came. Your heart sank or maybe it leapt, you couldn’t tell which. You crossed the room and opened the door.

Connor stood there, his hoodie was zipped up, hands buried in the pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. His eyes searched yours, little guilty.

“Why did you leave so fast?” he asked quietly. “Without saying anything?”

You blinked, still stunned that he was actually there. “I didn’t really think I needed to,” you said.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “You just disappeared.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms. “Well, you seemed busy talking to someone else.”

The pettiness slipped out before you could stop it.

He exhaled, stepping inside when you didn’t tell him to leave. “Why does it matter so much?” He asked, looking at you searching for something. “I thought you didn’t even like parties like that.”

Your throat closed up, and before you could even speak, you felt your eyes sting. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could wipe it away. “I don’t.” You said. “I only went because of you.”

He went still.

You took a shaky breath. “I just wanted to be there. I thought maybe-” you broke off, shaking your head, laughing bitterly through the tears. “God, I don’t even know what I thought.”

Connor’s expression softened immediately, guilt flickering across his face. He stepped closer. “Hey,” he murmured. “Don’t cry.”

But you couldn’t stop. The tears kept coming. “You have no idea what it’s like, Connor. I see you everywhere and i can’t even look at anyone else like that. And you’re just there, talking to some girl like I don’t even exist.”

He shook his head, eyes wide. “It wasn’t even like that.”

You met his gaze. “Then what was it like?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek, thumb wiping a tear that had just fallen. You flinched at first, breath catching, but he didn’t move away. His touch was soft like he was afraid you’d disappear if he held you too hard.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t even know-” he stopped, his voice trailing off. “No. That’s not true. I think I did know.”

You looked up at him.

He sighed, hand still cupping your face. “You think I didn’t notice the way you look at me? I did. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Because everytime you look at me like that, it feels like the ground falls out from under me.”

Your heart was pounding now. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

He gave a small smile. “Because I thought maybe I was the only one who felt it.”

“You’re not.” You whispered.

And that was all it took. His lips found yours, at first it was slow, almost uncertain, like he was afraid you’d pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let your hands rest against his chest, the kiss deepened. It wasn’t really perfect, it was desperate and full of everything you’d both been too scared to say.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads touched. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

You shook your head, tears still clinging to your lashes. “Mmhmm.”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “I should probably-”

“Can you stay?” You said, cutting him off before you could talk yourself out of it. “Only if you want to.”

“Yeah,” he said after a few seconds. “I want to.”

You nodded, turning toward the hallway. “You can grab something. I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, you leaned over the sink, rinsing off the last of your make up. The girl staring back at you in the mirror looked tired, but lighter somehow. You brushed your teeth, trying not to think too hard what this all meant.

When you came out, Connor was sitting on the edge of your bed, his phone on the nightstand. He looked up when you entered and smiled.

You slid under the covers beside him, the space between you charged but calm. The lights were off, leaving only the faint glow from the street outside spilling across the sheets.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could hear the rhythm of his breathing which somehow matched yours.

“Thank you for coming.” You said quietly.

He turned his head toward you. “I couldn’t just let you leave like that.”

You smiled faintly, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

A few seconds passed, and then you felt his hand find yours under the blanket, fingers brushing first, then gently interlocking. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.

He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel his warmth against your shoulder. You heard him whisper, “sleep, okay? I’m here.”

You nodded, heart full and soft.

[belli5]

The little thingsᵎᵎ WE⁷²

╰ Synopsis Having a relationship with William while you’re both busy with school and hockey, still making the relationship work.

tags/contains William Eklund x fem!reader. Mostly fluff, established relationship, small conflict.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. I wrote a fic yesterday but I accidentally deleted it and I had to rewrite all of this again.. 💔

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

Your relationship with William wasn’t exactly perfect but that’s what made it so healthy.

You’d both fallen into a rhythm that wasn’t effortless, but it fit. Like two people with different schedules, different dreams, but the same heartbeat running underneath it all.

Most mornings, the day started with the sound of your alarm and the faint buzz of William’s phone across the nightstand. His schedule was almost always packed, morning practices, team meetings, traveling, but he was used to it.

You, on the other hand, had learned to live around it, to find the small moments in between where you could still be with him.

When he left for practice, you’d usually pack up your laptop, notebooks and head to this cafe after university. The baristas knew your name by now, and they’d already stopped asking if Will was coming with you.

You liked studying there, it gave you a sense of routine, even when his life was anything but. You’d sit with you laptop open, textbooks scattered, trying to not think of William too much, of what he might be doing or where he’s at.

And when he came over in the afternoon, sweaty and tired but still smiling with his sleepy smile, you would always think after a long day of doing whatever, it’s always worth at the end of the day.

It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

There were days when the imbalance showed itself, though.

Like one random evening when you’d planned to go over notes for your midterm, but he’d texted: “Come over? We’re watching game film but I’ll be done by 8pm. Miss you.”

You stared at your phone longer than you wanted to, you wanted to go, of course, you always did but the pile of notes on your desk wasn’t forgiving.

So you replied: “I miss you too. But I need to stay in tonight, I have a midterm tomorrow.”

He read it almost instantly, the little “seen” mark popping up before your stomach even finished twisting. Then his message came through: “Ok, all good :) you’ll crush it.”

You smiled at the screen, you knew William had meant it, but you still felt bad. William never made you feel guilty for focusing on school, but sometimes, the guilt came from you.

Later that night, while rereading your notes, your phone lit up again. It was a photo from him.

It was him, his hair was wet from the shower, and he was smiling at the camera. “Missed you anyway,” he’d written.

You laughed, quietly, then typed back, “I’ll see you tomorrow. After midterm celebration?” “It’s a date,” he replied.

The next day, you aced the exam or at least you thought you did and found yourself outside Sharks practice facility, waiting for him.

He spotted you through the glass before stepping out, his face lighting up. “After midterm celebration?” He grinned, taking the coffee you offered.

You nodded. “You remembered.”

He feigned offense. “I’m not that bad.”

“You once forgot what day my exam was.”

“I said I was sorry!” He laughed, bumping your shoulder with his.

The teasing didn’t last long before he laced his fingers through yours and led you toward his car.

Your relationship wasn’t really built on big gestures or constant attention, it was built on balance.

When you had exams, William knew not to hover. He’d stop by your apartment just long enough to drop off dinner.

And when he had back to back games, you’d show up to the SAP center, wearing his jersey. You tried to be there for every home game, even when your schedule was full.

He would always spot you, somehow, through the crowd, he would find your face. A quick wave and a small smile, and it was like the rest of the arena disappeared.

You didn’t make it to every game, but you made it to most, and that mattered.

And when you couldn’t? He never made you feel bad. “Don’t worry about it,” he had told you once over facetime, after you had apologised for missing an away game. He was sprawled on the hotel bed. “You being here all the time isn’t what makes it feel good.”

“What does then?” You asked, smiling into the camera.

He shrugged. “That we can still talk to each other after the game and even when we are apart.”

Of course, there were moments where you both stumbled.

Like the time you were late to meet him after school, running on few hours of sleep after cramming for an exam. He waited almost an hour before calling.

“Are you okay?” His voice was worried.

“Yeah, I just lost track of time. I’m sorry, Will.”

He sighed, and you could almost see the way his shoulders slumped even through the phone. “It would’ve been nice to know.”

You knew he wasn’t angry. You both were tired of things keeping you both busy.

When you met him later that night, both of you quiet, he didn’t bring it up again. You just sat on his couch, legs tucked under you, watching a movie you both agreed on.

After a while, he reached for your hand. “I don’t want us to get good at missing each other..” he said softly.

You looked at him, “we won’t.”

It was the little things that kept you steady, meeting after school and practice, the late night facetimes, the way he would always ask how your studying went before talking about hockey.

Even the team sometimes noticed. You would hear stories from the other guys about how he’d light up when your name came up.

Once, after a game, you’d been waiting outside the locker room when Toff passed by and smiled. “You two have it figured out, huh?” He said.

You laughed, a little flustered. “Trying to.”

“Well,” Toff had grinned. “It shows.”

[belli5]

Sweet loveᵎᵎ CB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis You and Connor participating in the “All night” trend on tiktok.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Fluff, Connor’s biceps (👅), established relationship.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. Connor is made perfectly for this trend. Also not my best work, but it’s still very cute, I just love this trend so much.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

“Okay, but look at this.”

You turned your phone toward Connor, the screen lighting up your grin as you played the tiktok again. The “all night” by Beyoncé trend had been all over your for you page. Girls boyfriends showing off their strength and you wanted your boyfriend to do the same.

In the videos, a guy effortlessly lifted his girlfriend, one hand under her thighs. It was stupidly adorable.

You bit back a smile. “Isn’t that cute?”

Connor barely looked up from the plate of mashed potatoes he was helping himself to, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

“‘Yeah, it’s cute’” you repeated in a mocking deep voice, exaggerating the seriousness in his tone. “No but like- look how strong he is. One hand, Connor. One hand.”

You’d always known Connor had biceps, that wasn’t exactly a secret. The way his shirts hugged his arms made it impossible not to notice. Everyone knew he was strong, but you knew it better than anyone.

So when the trend started blowing up, you couldn’t resist teasing him a little. And Connor knew exactly what you were doing. He knew you loved his biceps, knew you thought it was unfair how easy he made everything look.

You played the clip again, zooming in on the guy’s arm as he hoisted his girlfriend like she weighed nothing.

Connor finally looked at you then, raised his eyebrow, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What are you saying right now?”

You smiled innocently, swirling your straw in your drink. “I mean, it’s just impressive. I wish you could do that.”

Connor looked at you, slowly like he was trying not to laugh. “I can do that,” he said, that flicker of challenge already in his eyes.

You tilted your head, biting your lip to hide your grin. “Oh really? Because that guy” you pointed at your phone, “looked like he could b-”

Connor cut you off, leaning back in his chair with a smug little smirk. “You don’t think I could lift you with one hand?”

Your sibling snorted. “You should totally try it!”

You laughed. “Yeah, right now?”

Connor shrugged, way too calm. “Why not?”

“Because we’re literally having dinner?” You said, laughing.

“Perfect time,” he said, already pushing his chair back and standing. “You’re talking big game for someone who thinks I can’t handle it.”

Your mom laughed softly. “Just don’t break anything, please.”

Connor extended his hand toward you, still smirking. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if I’m strong enough.”

“Okay,” you said, sighing dramatically as you took his hand. “But we’re not doing this in here. It’s gonna look way better outside.”

A few minutes later, you both were standing at the end of your driveway. The sky had turned dark blue and the air felt warm.

Your sibling held up your phone, already giggling. “Okay, I’m ready when you’re ready. I’ll start recording once you both start walking.”

You looked at Connor who stood beside you, with that cocky grin you both loved and hated. “Okay, you saw the video,” you teased. “You’ve gotta lift me up like that.”

He smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got you.”

The sound of “all night” started playing through your phone and you started walking up the drive way, swaying a little to the beat.

You could feel Connor’s steps sync with yours beside you, when you put your hand on his shoulder, Connor’s arm slipped around your thighs.

Before you could even process it, he lifted you up with one arm.

You gasped, the sound caught between surprise and laughter as your feet left the ground. You instinctively grabbed onto his shoulder harder, your laughter echoing down the quiet street.

“Oh my days, you’re actually doing it!” You squealed, laughing so hard.

Connor chuckled, unbothered, holding you like it was nothing. His arm didn’t even tremble. “Told you I could.”

From behind the camera, your sibling burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, this looks so good!”

Connor started walking again, still holding you effortlessly with one arm. You were clutching at him in awe. “Put me down now, before you show off and trip,” you said through your laughter.

“I’m proving a point”

By the time he finally set you down, both of you were out of breath, him from laughing, you from squealing like you’d just been on a rollercoaster.

“Okay,” you said, breathless. “You’re definitely strong enough.”

He smirked, brushing his hand through his hair. “You ever doubt me again, I’m making you do this to me.”

“Ha- like I could do that..” you said, shaking your head as you took the phone from your sibling. “Okay, let’s see this masterpiece.”

The three of you huddled around the screen, and as the video played back, you immediately gasped. The video looked cinematic, just as Connor lifted you. “Oh my days,” you whispered. “That looks insane.”

Connor leaned over your shoulder, watching with you. “We look pretty good.” He said casually.

“Pretty good?” You echoed. “Connor, this will literally be the best video I’ll have in my camera roll.”

He laughed quietly, sliding an arm around your waist. “Told you. Didn’t even break a sweat.”

You turned to look at him, your smile softening. “Okay, I admit it. You’re strong. Like, really strong.”

He smirked. “You just wanted an excuse to see the biceps in action, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, tracing your fingers along his arm. “Or maybe I just like when you prove me wrong.”

Connor chuckled, flexing just enough to make you roll your eyes. “These biceps deserve their own platform.”

“Absolutely not.” You quickly said. “These biceps are just for me to be blessed.” You laughed as you leaned into him.

Your sibling groaned. “Bro y’all are so weird, ew..”

“You’re posting that?” Connor asked.

“Oh, definitely.” You smiled as the video looped again. Typing in the caption: he said he could do it and he did it.

[belli5]

Cherry lips .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis Two teenagers sneaking out and having their first kiss.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x reader. Fluff, you both are teenagers in this(in my mind y’all are like 17) kissing, sneaking out ig, nothing that I’m aware about, not proofread (yet).

➺ from Sera, to you📨. My dream date. Cute.. and he knows that 😔

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You told your parents you’re going out with your best friend again. It’s not technically a lie.. Macklin is your friend.. he’s just the kind you don’t tell your parents about yet.

Your dad would ask a million questions. Who’s this boy? Where did you meet him? Does he play sports? What’s his last name again?

And the thought of trying to explain Macklin Celebrini, of hearing your mom’s soft, curious tone and your dad’s protective one, just feels like too much now, for just a friend.

So you just tug on your hoodie, slip your phone into your pocket, and tell them, “we’re just gonna go for a walk.”

That’s true.

You first saw Macklin at a cafe downtown a few months ago, a place you and your friend liked to sit and study. You remember looking up from your drink and catching his green eyes.

He had looked away quickly, then back again when he thought you weren’t looking. You’d smiled to yourself, thinking it was cute. And when he got up to leave, he had passed your table, and you said hi: something you would never do to any other guy.

He was funny, smart, a little awkward in a way that made him endearing. You’d swapped numbers, and now here you are, a few hang outs later, lying to your parents just to see him again.

When you spot him sitting on a bench at the park, your heart does that stupid skip thing it always does around him.

He’s in a black hoodie and a baseball cap, hair peeking out underneath, looking every bit like the boy your dad had always told you as a kid “keep your distance from”.

“Thought you didn’t wanna see me anymore..” he says, giving you the nervous smile you’ve came to like way too much.

“I told you I would” you tease, walking up to him. “I had to tell a very convincing lie, though.”

He laughs softly. “About me?”

You shake your head. “About my friend.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” He grins, then gestures toward the park path. “Come on. I figured we could just walk for a bit. It’s not, like, super fancy or anything..”

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “It’s perfect.”

The two of you start walking, the air cool and quiet. It’s already almost dark, painting the sky dark blue, and the streetlights flicker on one by one as the park starts to empty.

You walk side by side, your steps falling into rhythm without trying. The crunch of gravel underfoot fills the quiet for a moment, until Macklin starts talking.

“Practice was brutal today” he says with a little laugh, kicking at a loose pebble. “Coach made us run drills. I thought my legs were gonna fall off.”

You grin. “Well, that’s what you get for being good. They expect you to be perfect.”

He glances at you, smiling like he’s trying not to. “You think I’m good?”

You push his shoulder with yours lightly. “I’ve heard things.”

“Oh yeah? Good things, I hope.”

“Mostly” you tease. “Depends who you ask.”

He laughs, and the sound makes you smile before you even realise it. “You should definitely come to my next game” he says. “I’ll score a goal for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to sound unimpressed. “For me?”

“Yeah.” He looks over at you, grinning. “Consider it a promise.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling in reality. “Sure, I’ll go. But if you don’t score, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“Fair,” he says. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure I do.”

The two of you fall quiet again, the wind brushes through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, someone’s dog barks. You can feel the warmth radiating off him even through your sleeves, and without thinking, your hands brush.

Just a small touch, your knuckles grazing his as you walk, but it sends a spark right through you. Neither of you say anything the first time, just pretending it didn’t happen.

But then it happens again. You can feel your pulse pick up, your fingers twitching with the urge to close the space between you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance down.

And then, shyly, your pinky hooks around his. He glances up at you, his lips parting like he’s gonna say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he his fingers shift, threading gently through yours until your palms fit together perfectly.

Neither of you say anything word. You just keep walking, hands linked and steps in sync.

When you reach the little ice cream shop near the park, Macklin turns to you. “Want some ice cream?”

“Obviously.” You say, grinning.

He orders vanilla and you get your favourite: chocolate cherry. You sit on a bench under the soft yellow light, your knees almost touching.

“You’ve got, uhh-” Macklin says, gesturing to your face.

“What?”

He reaches out, hesitating for half a second before brushing his thumb across the corner of your mouth. “Ice cream,” he says, with a little amused voice.

You can feel the warmth of his touch linger even after he pulls away, and it makes it hard to remember how to breathe for a second. You laugh softly, trying to shake it off. “That’s what I get for choosing a messy ice cream.”

“I think it’s worth it.” He says quietly.

You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you the way he did that first day at the cafe. He always looks at you, but now it feels different, it’s like you can sense something’s gonna happen.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. The wind stirs the trees around you, then Macklin shifts closer, his knee brushing yours.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks softly.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

“I really like spending time with you.”

It’s not the first sweet thing he’s said to you, but now it’s like he’s nervous and putting something fragile in your hands.

You smile, your heart thudding in your chest. “I like spending time with you too.”

He nods slowly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a second before flicking back up to meet your gaze. “Can I..” he trails off, a quiet breath leaving him. “Can I kiss you?”

For a heartbeat, everything around you fades, the crickets, the breeze, even the soft glow of the lights. It’s just him and you, and this tiny question hanging in the air between you.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles before leaning in. His hand finds yours, his fingers brushing against your palm, and then his lips meet yours.

It’s slow and uncertain at first, but warm: the kiss had felt like a promise. The faint taste of chocolate and cherry lingers between you, soft and sweet, and suddenly you’re very aware of the way his thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand.

When you pull back, both of you are smiling: quiet, giddy and breathless in a way that only first kisses makes you feel.

“I, uh.. definitely think messy ice cream is worth it.” He murmurs, and you laugh, your cheeks burning in the best way.

“That was..” you start, then laugh quietly, rubbing the back of your neck. “That was really nice.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It was.”

You both sit there, grinning like idiots, trying not to make it awkward and failing in the sweetest way possible.

After a while, you toss your napkin into the trash and glance up at the sky. “I should probably head back soon before my mom texts me a thousand times.”

“Right,” he says, standing up with you. “Don’t wanna get you in trouble.”

He walks you back halfway, the two of you falling into easy silence, before turning to you again.

“Can you hang out again at the weekend?” He asks.

You smile. “If I can come up with another good excuse.”

“I can help,” he offers, grinning. “I’m getting good at this secret boyfriend thing.”

You laugh and nudge him lightly. “We’re not-” you start, but he cuts you off with a teasing look.

“Yet.” He says. “Hopefully I’ll be meeting them soon.”

“Hopefully.” You say, as you roll your eyes, but your smile is so wide you can’t hide, because you like the idea. “Goodnight, Macklin.”

“Goodnight,” he says softly. Then he hesitates for a second before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek: warm , gentle, perfectly him.

© Belli5 — Feel free to let me know how you feel about this.

[belli5]

NSFW alphabet.ᐟ ೀWS²

╰ Synopsis NSFW alphabet with Will.

tags/contains Will Smith x reader. NSFW alphabet, suggestive content, kinks, mentions of threesome, all of that stuff.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. In the memory of his old haircut, cuz Alli sent me a picture of his mullet and that’s how I had to find out 😔 (it still looks good 👅) Also could yall tell, what I would like to call Will? 😼

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

A = Aftercare (What he's like after sex)

Will is very protective afterwards. He always makes sure you’re okay, pulling you tight against his chest and keeping you close until you’ve caught your breath. He won’t even relax until he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

B = Body part (His favourite body part of his partner)

His favourite body part of you is your chest. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you in a bathing suit or a low cut top, he just can’t keep his hands or eyes off you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.. ik..)

He’s not really the messy type, when he’s using a condom he finishes inside of it, but when you both do it raw, he sometimes would pull out and finish across your stomach, just loving the way you look with it on your stomach.

D = Dirty Secret (something not everyone would guess about him)

For all his loyalty, he’s secretly entertained the idea of having a threesome with you and his best friend Macklin at least once in his life.

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Will’s first time was with you, so everything he knows, he’s learned by your side. It makes intimacy between you two even more special, every step of the journey has been shared.

F = Favourite position

His favourite position is Cowgirl, because he loves giving you control and will melt when you call him a good boy.

G = Goofy (Are they serious in the moment or joke around, etc.)

He can crack a joke here and there, but he knows when to focus. He balances humor with the intensity perfectly.

H = Hair (How well groomed is he?)

Will keeps it nicely trimmed, bald is a big no for him (and you too), he likes looking neat without overdoing it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect..)

When it comes to intimacy, Will is warm and romantic. He loves eye contact, slow kisses, and drawing things out so you feel every ounce of his affection.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

When he’s away for games, he’ll sometimes handle things over the phone with you, but when you’re around he doesn’t bother. He’d rather have you take care of him because no one does it better.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

Being called a “good boy” does things to him. No matter if you’re a year older or a year younger, the praise drives him harder. On top of that, he’s got a thing for marking or being marked: he loves leaving hickeys on your chest or your stomach, but he also secretly goes weak when you scratch down his back hard enough to leave a trail. Something about the proof of passion makes him feral.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His go to is the bedroom or shower, where he can do whatever he wants without worrying. But he’s not above sneaking off at a party, he has the thrill of knowing people are just downstairs.

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going)

You wearing his jersey, he swears he has never seen a person look this sexy in a hockey jersey.

N = NO (Something he wouldn't do)

He wouldn’t use handcuffs, because he likes your hands on him too much to give that up.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

He loves both, he loves the way it feels when you go down on him, but he definitely loves spending his time between your legs.

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Or is he slow and sensual?)

Will prefers it slow. Will loves to savour you, stretching out every moment. He likes taking his time, because especially when he’s away for games he doesn’t get to do this with you every night.

Q = Quickie (His opinion on quickies, rather than proper sex)

He’s fine with them, if one of you are really needy, he would go for a quickie, but given the choice, he’ll take his time.

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment etc.)

Will is an open minded person so if you want to try something new (such as positions, toys etc), he’s right there with you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can he go for?)

Usually he just goes for one, he knows you’ll be worn out after just one, and honestly, so will he.

T = Toy (Does he own any toys? Or does he use any toys?)

In your relationship none of you had talked about toys and Will doesn’t need them. He’s confident he can pleasure you better than any toy in the world ever could.

U = Unfair (How much he like to tease)

He loves teasing, but he’s careful not to push too far, because he remembers the time you got annoyed and made him stop.

V = Volume (How loud is he?)

Will is loud. He doesn’t hold back, he makes sure you hear every groan and moan so you know just how good you feel.

W = Wild Card (random headcanon)

He loves when you wear his medals, not even in bed, but after a win. Especially when he won world championships and you wore his gold medal.

X - x-ray (whats going on in those pants)

He’s more than enough, big enough to stretch you out perfectly, hitting all the right spots every single time.

Y - Yearning (How high is his sex drive?)

He doesn’t constantly need it, but when you wear something sexy, it turns him on every time. And he’ll go for it.

Z = ZZZ (.. how quickly he falls asleep)

Once he’s sure you’re fed, warm and comfortable, he’ll knock out peacefully with you curled against him.

[belli5]

NSFW alphabet .ᐟ ೀCB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis NSFW alphabet with Connor.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x reader. NSFW alphabet, explicit content, kinks, all of that stuff, not proofread (yet).

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Haven’t posted in a month, but I’m alive and I hope yall will forgive me 🙏🏽

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

A = Aftercare (What he’s like after sex)

Connor’s (not surprisingly) very soft afterward. He likes to make sure you’re comfortable, giving you a drink or snacks if you need it. He’s big on cuddles, he’ll tug you against his chest, bury his face in your hair, and mumble little compliments until you drift off.

B = Body part (His favourite body part of his partner)

His favourite body part of you is your thighs. He loves squeezing them, kissing them, and watching them tighten around him when you’re close.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.. ik..)

He’s not messy for the sake of it, he usually prefers finishing inside you, relishing the intimacy of it. But if you let him, he goes weak when you take him in your mouth and swallow, like it’s the hottest thing you can do.

D = Dirty Secret (something not everyone would guess about him)

For all his shy boy charm, Connor has a thing for control. He had fantasied about putting your hands in hand cuffs or holding you down just enough so you can’t squirm away.

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Connor’s first time was with you, so everything he knows, he learned through exploring together. He may not have had experience beforehand (just like you), but he picked things up quickly, so now he knows exactly how to make your body melt.

F = Favourite position

Backshots are a go to, he loves the view of your back arching for him, his hands on your waist. But also he’s weak for cowgirl: watching you take control, grinding down on him while he holds your hips, drives him crazy.

G = Goofy (Are they serious in the moment or joke around, etc.)

Definitely a mix of both, but he leans into being playful. He’ll crack little jokes or smirk when you get flustered, because to him, it’s about having fun as much as it is about getting off.

H = Hair (How well groomed is he?)

He keeps thing neat. He’s never completely bare, but he’s trimmed nicely, so he’s clean, put together and it shows.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect..)

Connor wears his heart on his sleeve. Even when it’s hot and rough, there’s always an undertone of romance, he’ll press kisses to your shoulder, whisper your name against your neck, and remind you how much you mean to him.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it all the time, but when he does, it’s usually because he’s thinking of you. And if you catch him in the act? Even better, he’d get turned on fast if you watched him, maybe even guide his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

It’s definitely praise. He thrives on it, calling you his “good girl” makes his voice drop, and hearing you call him a “good boy” makes him blush but lean into it harder. It’s simple, but it hits every time.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He’s private, so he prefers the bedroom or somewhere safe. But he lives by the fact that he only lives once and he can say that he’s done it in the locker room once.

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going)

You begging or the sound of you getting needy for him flips a switch in his brain, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else but giving you what you want.

N = NO (Something he wouldn’t do)

Chocking, because he’s not into anything that hurts you, it’s a hard boundary.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

He enjoys both, but if he had to pick, he prefers receiving. It leaves him panting, his head tossed back, fingers digging into the sheets. That said, he loves going down on you too, especially when he can make you whine his name.

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Or is he slow and sensual?)

It usually depends on his mood. He can go hard and fast when he’s pent up, but he’s just as good at taking his time, dragging things out slowly, savouring every sound and shiver he pulls from you.

Q = Quickie (His opinion on quickies, rather than proper sex)

He’s down for them, especially before a game or when you’re both impatient. But he’s prefers having more time to really take you apart, for him quickies are a treat, not the main course.

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment etc.)

Connor likes trying new things, but he doesn’t do too much. If you bring up something new, he’ll be open to it, curious, and willing to experiment as long as you’re comfortable.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can he go for?)

One solid round is his norm, but every now and then if you’re both still into it, he’ll go for the second round. Afterward, he’s completely spent, usually passing out tangled around you.

T = Toy (Does he own any toys? Or does he use any toys?)

He has never brought it up, mostly because he enjoys focusing on you the old fashioned way. But he’s open minded if you suggested something, he’d gladly try it.

U = Unfair (How much he like to tease)

Oh, Connor loves to tease. Whether it’s dragging his fingers along your thighs without touching where you want him, or making you beg for just one more inch, he thrives on watching you squirm.

V = Volume (How loud is he?)

He’s not loud, but he’s definitely not silent either. He groans, he pants, and lets soft moans slip out, just enough for you to know you’re driving him wild.

W = Wild Card (random headcanon)

Connor has a soft spot for marking, not so much hickeys where everyone can see, but little ones he leaves on your chest, hips, or thighs, he likes knowing they’re there, hidden, just for the two of you.

X - Ray (whats going on in those pants)

Connor’s not huge, but he’s more than enough. He has slight curve, average thickness, but the way he knows how to use it makes it impossible to complain.

Y - Yearning (How high is his sex drive?)

He doesn’t need it constantly, but when he’s in the mood, you’ll know: he gets clingy, touchy, and a little restless until you give in.

Z = ZZZ (.. how quickly he falls asleep)

Once he knows you’re taken care of, he’s out like a light. Cuddling is important, he’ll pull you against him, kiss your forehead, and pass out warm against you.

[belli5]

Study Break .ᐟ ೀCB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis When Connor finally gets a day off, he refuses to let you spend it studying.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x reader. Smut, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be silly guys, stay safe), nsfw, fingering, p in v, 18+ (minors dni), established relationship.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Long waited smut + my first time writing smut for Con, kinda nervous. 👅

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

Your textbooks were spread out across the desk, highlighted notes stacked beside you, and your laptop open to yet another set of practice problems. The only sound in the apartment was the scratching of your pen.

And Connor’s sighing for the 10th time.

You glanced over your shoulder. He was sprawled dramatically across your bed, his head tilted back like he had been forced to endure the worst possible torture.

Another sigh.

You set your pen down with a sharp clack. “Connor, sighing isn’t gonna make me finish any faster.”

He lifted his head lazily, “I’m bored,” he complained, dragging out the word. “I finally get a day off and my girlfriend’s ignoring me..”

“You knew I had to study,” you reminded him, turning back to your notes. “It’s not exactly a surprise.”

“Yeah, but..” he groaned again, rolling onto his side and watching you with exaggerated puppy dog eyes. “Why would I waste my free time doing anything else when I could be hanging out with you? That’s what couples do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “Couples also let each other be productive,” you shot back, flipping a page in your notebook.

He slumped onto his stomach, face buried in a pillow. “Productivity is overrated. You’ll still be smart tomorrow. Come on, babe, I’ve been waiting all week for this day.”

“Connor-”

“Just a few minutes,” he interrupted quickly, perking up again. “Come cuddle with me, then you can go back to your boring equations or whatever.”

You turned in your chair, narrowing your eyes. “You act like I don’t know what you’re trying to do..”

His smile widened. “What, what am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying to guilt trip me, and saying you wanna cuddle for few minutes but I know if I’ll give in, it wont just be five minutes.”

Connor sat up, pretending to look offended. “Wow. You think so little of me.” He didn’t even bother defending himself before crossing the room. “But since you already figured it out..”

“Connor-” you started, but before you could finish, he slid his arms around you, lifting you effortlessly out of the chair.

“Hey!” You squealed, clutching at his shoulder. “Put me down, I’m serious-”

“Nope.” His voice smug, but playful. He adjusted his grip, carrying you bridal style toward your bed. “You’ve been stuck at the desk for hours. I’m just helping you.”

“Helping how?”

He laid you gently on the bed and flopped down beside you, immediately pulling you against his chest. His hand found your waist, thumb brushing softly over your hoodie.

You sighed in defeat, sinking into him despite yourself. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m perfect,” he countered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And so are you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. “Flattery’s not gonna help your case.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he murmured, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. His gaze was soft, a little shy around the edges. “You’re so pretty, you know that? Literally can’t take my eyes off you.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, and you ducked your head against his hoodie. “Oh gosh.. Thank you.”

“Im being honest,” Connor said, his arm tightening around you. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it gently behind your ear. “You work so hard. I just wanted you to take a break with me. Is that really so bad?”

You breathed out slowly. “No. Not bad.”

“Good.” He grinned, nuzzling into your hair.

Your head was on Connor’s chest, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns over the fabric of his hoodie, listening to his heartbeat, when his lips brushed your temple again. The kiss lingered.

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, only to find his eyes already on you. The lazy grin on his face softened. “What?” You whispered.

He shook his head slowly, thumb stroking your waist. “Nothing..”

“You’re really laying on thick today.”

Connor smirked, dipping down to press a kiss against your cheek. “Just want your attention really, really bad.”

Before you could respond, his mouth found yours. The kiss started gentle, a coaxing brush of lips, but when you sighed into it, his hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer. You melted against him, already forgetting about your textbooks waiting across the room.

When his tongue slid past your lips, tasting and teasing, you let out a quiet whimper that had him groaning into the kiss. He rolled you onto your back effortlessly, his body caging yours against the mattress.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured, kissing you again, deeper this time. “Been wanting this all day.”

Your hands slipped under his hoodie, palms skimming over the hard planes of his back. “So you weren’t that bored?” You teased breathlessly.

“I was bored,” he admitted, grinning against your mouth, “until I remembered what I’d rather be doing.” His hips pressed lightly against yours, enough to make his point.

Heat flared low in your belly. “Connor-”

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing down your jaw, the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Let me distract you for a little while.”

You gasped when his teeth grazed your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a spark racing down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as he sucked gently on your neck.

“Connor..” your voice cracked on his name, and his responding groan vibrated against your throat.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered, his lips trailing lower, over your collarbone. “So pretty. So perfect.”

Your hoodie was in his way, and he wasted no time tugging it upward. You lifted your arms to help him pull it off, leaving you in just your bra beneath him. His eyes darkened as they raked over you, chest rising and falling faster.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “How am I supposed to let you go study when you look like this?”

You flushed, biting your lip, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on you again, kissing down the curve of your chest. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of your bra, cursing under his breath until it finally came loose.

The way he groaned when your breast spilled free made your toes curl. “You’re unreal,” he whispered reverently, cupping you in his hands before wrapping his lips around a nipple.

Your back arched, a strangled moan slipping out as his tongue teased you, hot and insistent. His free hand trailed down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your leggings.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, kissing back up your chest before claiming your lips again.

“Please don’t.” You admitted against his mouth.

That was all the permission he needed. He slid his hand into your leggings, finding you already wet for him. He groaned low in his throat, fingers brushing over your panties.

“God, baby, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “All for me?”

You nodded helplessly, thighs partings wider beneath him. “Connor, please-”

“Please what?” He teased, stroking you slowly through the fabric.

“Touch me,” you gasped, arching against him.

He smirked, sliding your panties aside and finally running a finger through your slick folds. “Like this?”

The whimper that escaped you made him curse again, pressing his forehead to yours as he circled your clit with maddening patience.

“Don’t tease.” You begged, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I can’t help it,” he said, kissing you hard while slipping two fingers inside you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sudden stretch making your body jolt, and he swallowed every sound. “You feel so good, baby. So tight around me.”

Your hips rocked against his hand instinctively, chasing the friction. He kept up a steady pace, curling his fingers until you were gasping into his mouth, thighs trembling.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice husky. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

It didn’t take long. The pressure coiled inside you snapped all at once, and you came undone with a broken moan, clinging to him as your body shuddered through the release.

Connor kissed you through it, murmuring soft praises against your lips. “That’s my girl. So beautiful when you fall apart like that.”

Before you even caught you breath, he was pushing his sweats down just enough to free himself. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, hard and heavy in his hand.

“Connor I-”

“Need you,” he groaned, lining himself up. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You nodded quickly, legs wrapping around his waist. “Please.”

He pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Both of you moaned at the stretch, the perfect fit.

“Fuck,” he panted. “You feel so good. I’m not gonna last.”

“Move,” you whispered desperately, nails dragging down his back.

And he did. His thrusts started slow, controlled, but the way you clenched around him had him losing rhythm fast. Soon he was pounding into you, hips slamming against yours with each movement, groaning your name like a prayer.

You met him thrust for thrust, the bed creaking under the force. Your cries filled the room, mixed with his ragged moans.

“Connor- I’m close-”

“Me too,” he gasped, angling his hips just right to hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. “Come with me, baby. Please.”

Your climax hit hard, ripping through you with a cry as your nails dug into his shoulders. Connor followed seconds later, spilling into you with a guttural groan, his body trembling above yours.

He collapsed onto you, chest heaving, still keeping you close as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

For a long moment, the only sound was your mingled breathing. Then Connor pressed a shaky kiss to your lips. “Isn’t this much more fun than studying?”

You laughed weakly, still trying to steady your heartbeat. “Hmm.. maybe.”

Connor laid against you for a moment, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder and murmuring. “Don’t move, I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and flushed, as he carefully slipped out of the bed. He padded toward the bathroom, returning with a damp towel in hand.

“Lift your hips a little,” he said softly. His touch was gentle as he cleaned you up, taking his time like it was a second nature.

When he finished, he tossed the towel aside and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “There we go. All better."

[belli5]

lakehouse .ᐟ ೀCB⁹⁸

╰ Synopsis Spending a week in lake house with Connor.

tags/contains Connor Bedard x reader. Fluff, established relationship, pet name calling (one time), kissing.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. I hate fishing, and I’m sorry this took me so long y’all 💔

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

The cabin had always belonged to your parents, but it felt like it was part of you, nestled between tall pines on the edge of a still Vancouver lake, with the kind of quiet that made the whole world feel far away.

You had grown up here, spending summers with your family, falling asleep to the sound of crickets and waking up to the call of loons.

Your parents hadn’t hesitated when you asked if you and your boyfriend could spend a week at the cabin alone.

Your mom just smiled knowingly, and your dad made a joke about “don’t burn the place down,” but both of them trusted you.

The moment you pulled into the gravel driveway with Connor’s hand resting on your thigh, you already knew it was going to be one of your favorite weeks of your life.

Inside, the cabin smelled like sun-warmed wood, just as it always had. Connor carried in the bags while you opened the windows, letting the fresh lake air spill inside. He set the groceries down on the counter and looked around with wide eyes.

“This is so nice.” He said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You nodded, walking toward him. “Yup.”

He laughed. “I think I could get used to this.” He slipped his arms around your waist and kissed your forehead, pulling you close until your back hit the counter. “Especially if it means a whole week with just you.”

The look in his eyes made your stomach flutter, the cabin suddenly feeling smaller, but before you could melt into him completely, you nudged his chest and grabbed the bag of pasta from the counter.

“Not so fast, Con. First, we gotta unpack and then you’re cooking dinner with me.”

Cooking with Connor turned out to be more chaotic than you expected. He insisted he was capable in the kitchen, but after he almost dropped a jar of sauce on the counter and nearly burned the garlic bread, you were starting to doubt him.

“You’re banned from using knives,” you said, taking the chopping board away from him before he could massacre the tomatoes any further.

He pouted, leaning against the counter. “I thought you said we were cooking together.”

“We are. You’re just on stirring duty.”

He narrowed his eyes but obeyed, dragging the wooden spoon through the simmering sauce. You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he looked about it.

When the food was finally ready, you sat on the porch together, plates balanced on your laps, and it was perfect. The lake glowed gold with the setting sun, the water so still it looked like glass. Connor stretched his arm behind you on the bench, tugging you against his side.

The days blurred in that sweet, lazy way summer days do. You woke up late, sunlight streaming through the curtains, Connor always half on top of you.

Sometimes you made breakfast together, sometimes you skipped it altogether and wandered down to the dock with coffee in hand, still in your pajamas.

One afternoon, you laid out towels on the dock to tan. The sun was warm on your skin, the wood beneath you hot from hours of heat. Connor, of course, lasted all of ten minutes before he got restless.

“You’re just going to lay there?” he asked, poking your side.

“Yeah, that’s the whole point, Connor. It’s called relaxing.”

But he didn’t seem interested in relaxing. Instead, he scooped you up suddenly, ignoring your squeals, and walking toward the edge of the dock.

“Don’t you dare!” you warned him, clinging to his shoulders.

He grinned, boyish and mischievous, before jumping with you still in his arms. You hit the water with a splash, coming up sputtering while he laughed so hard he could barely swim.

“You’re the worst!” you splashed him in retaliation, but he just caught you, pulling you against his chest in the water. His laughter softened into a smile as he tucked your wet hair behind your ear.

You wriggled in his arms, trying to paddle back toward the dock. “At least the water will help a little to tan,” you muttered, brushing droplets from your eyelashes as you started swimming toward the ladder.

Connor caught your wrist under the water, tugging you back with an exaggerated pout. “You’re not seriously ditching me already?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What, do you expect me to just float around with you forever?”

“Yes,” he said simply, grinning like a kid. His fingers laced through yours beneath the surface, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “C’mon, just stay a little longer. It’s nice out here.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was impossible to resist when he looked at you like that, wet hair plastered to his forehead, drops running down his cheekbones, eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“You know, you’re so annoying..” you sighed, though you let him tug you closer.

He kissed your shoulder. “I just want you here with me, in the water.”

This time instead of wriggling away, you looped your arms around his neck. “Ughh.. fine, I’ll stay with you..”

Later that night, Connor was already rummaging around the shed by the dock when you came outside in your shorts and hoodie, still drying your hair with a towel.

“What are you doing?” you called, watching him wrestle with something long and awkward.

“Fishing,” he said proudly, holding up a rod like it was a trophy.

You groaned immediately. “Fishing? Seriously? That’s so boring, Connor.”

His jaw dropped, offended. “Boring? No, no, this is like.. very serious business.”

You smirked, leaning against the railing. “Uh-huh. Which translates to: sitting still for hours waiting for a fish dumb enough to bite.”

He shook his head, trying not to laugh, and walked toward you with two rods. “You don’t get it. You’ve just never had the right teacher.” He pressed one into your hands before you could protest.

“I’m not touching a worm.” You held the rod like it might bite you.

Connor chuckled, already baiting his own hook. “Relax, princess. I’ll do all the dirty work.”

“Then what’s the point of me even being here?”

“The point,” he said, coming to stand behind you, his arms wrapping around yours to guide your grip on the rod, “is spending time with me.” His voice dropped playfully against your ear, and you shivered despite yourself.

You muttered something under your breath, though you let him adjust your hands and show you how to cast. The line plopped into the water with a weak splash.

“Perfect,” he said, beaming.

You snorted. “Whats so interesting about this?”

“You just don’t get it.”

When the rod suddenly jerked in your hands, you almost dropped it. “Connor- Connor! It’s doing something!” You squealed, fumbling to reel it in.

His eyes lit up instantly. “You got one! Keep the line tight, don’t let it slack, yeah, just like that!”

You huffed, concentrating hard while Connor hovered over behind you, coaching you. After what felt like a forever, a wriggling, shiny fish broke the surface.

“Oh my God.. ew, ew, ew!” You nearly threw the rod as Connor reached down to scoop the fish off the hook. He held it up proudly, water dripping everywhere.

“Look at that! You caught it!” He turned toward you, grinning. “Your first fish!”

You crossed your arms, wrinkling your nose. “Great. Now take it back. Put it back.”

“Not yet,” Connor said. “We need proof.”

Before you could argue, he shoved the fish gently into your hands. You yelped, holding it as far away from your body as possible, muttering under your breath.

“This is disgusting. Connor, it’s slimy. Oh my God, it’s moving!”

“Hold still,” he said, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You look so good-”

“Take the fish back,” you hissed through clenched teeth, but he only laughed harder, snapping a few pictures as you scowled at him, arms straining to keep the fish as far away as possible.

“You’re adorable.” He teased, tucking his phone back.

You shot him a glare. “Connor Bedard, if you don’t take this fish back in the next two seconds-”

He finally relieved you, lowering the fish back into the lake until it slipped free, swimming off in a flesh of silver. You wiped your hands frantically on a towel, glaring.

“Never again,” you muttered, while he just grinned.

The rest of the week was filled with little things, but the little things became everything. Connor carried you around the kitchen when you refused to get off the counter. He took polaroid pictures of you in the sunlight, holding them up proudly even when they came out blurry.

You danced barefoot on the dock at night with a bluetooth speaker playing some quiet song, the stars scattered endlessly above you.

One night, sitting outside together with your fingers laced together, Connor turned his head toward you.

“I could stay here forever,” he muttered.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me too. But you have hockey, remember?”

He groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me.” He said, but you knew he was just joking, because you also knew how much he loved hockey. “But we’ll come back, promise.”

And as the week slipped away too fast, you realised something important: the lake house might belonged to your family, but now it held pieces of the two of you too.

You laughter in the kitchen, your kisses on the dock and your whispered things under the stars.

[belli5]

Blush Baby .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis Calling Macklin the most ridiculous pet names to see him blush and fold.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x reader. Fluff, pet names, established relationship, use of Y/n.

➺ from Sera, to you. Requested. I don’t know how to feel about this lowk, I rushed this because I didn’t know how to put it but wtv, hope yall enjoy anyway 🫶🏼

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You had figured it out pretty early on that Macklin, turned into a complete mess when you gave him a ridiculous pet name.

And once you figured that out, you weren’t about to let it go.

You were waiting outside the locker room after a game, leaning against the wall while players trickled out. Some of his teammates spotted you first and nudged each other, smirking like they already knew Macklin’s cheeks would be red before he even made it to you.

When he finally appeared, damp hair, he looked tired but happy. The second he saw you, his shoulders relaxed, that easy smile finding its way onto his face.

“There’s my cutie patootie!” you called, loud enough for his friends to hear.

Everything stopped. His teammates froze before bursting into laughter, echoing down the corridor. One of them repeated it under their breath “cutie patootie” while elbowing him in the ribs.

Macklin instantly went red, the kind of deep blush that crawled all the way up his neck and over his ears. He ducked his head so fast his cap nearly slid off, mumbling, “Y/n..” like it was a plea.

You bounded up to him anyway, sliding your hand into his. “What?” you asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “It’s true. You’re such a cutie patootie.”

He gave you a side eye so weak it only made his teammates laugh harder, and then he tugged you toward the exit, grumbling the whole way, his fingers staying laced with yours the entire time.

One morning, you dragged him to a coffee shop that was near his house. He was half asleep in his hoodie, slouched in the corner while you waited for drinks. His hair stuck up in the back, his eyes heavy lidded, but he still looked ridiculously handsome.

You leaned across the table once you sat down, resting your chin in your hand. “You look tired, you gotta drink up, my little sugarplum,” you whispered the last part so only he could hear.

He stared at you, wide eyed, cheeks flushing a slow, rosy pink. “Don’t start again,” he whispered harshly, shifting in his seat like he wanted to hide inside his hoodie.

You only smirked, reaching out to toy with the drawstring of said hoodie. “What do you mean? You don’t like being my sugarplum?”

His blush deepened until it looked like someone had taken a red marker to his cheeks. He hid his face in his hand, muttering, “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

You grinned, satisfied, and took a sip of your own drink.

You were staying over his place, sprawled across his couch, your legs comfortably tangled with his. He had the popcorn bowl balanced in his lap, eyes on the movie playing quietly.

You reached over, fingers brushing the edge of the bowl. “Boo thang, can you please pass it to me?”

His hand froze mid reach, a piece of popcorn dangling between his fingers. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, eyes wide. “..What did you just call me?”

“Boo thang.” You snatched the popcorn from his hand with a grin. “Because you’re my boo and my thang.”

He dropped his face into the throw pillow at his side, muffling a groan. His ears went pink first, then the blush spread, blooming across his cheeks until he looked like he’d run laps around the block instead of just sitting there.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said into the pillow, voice muffled.

You laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to the exposed edge of his cheek. “You know, you’re adorable when you blush.”

“Stop..” he whispered, but his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest.

The next time it was another weekend afternoon at his parents place, and the two of you had snuck outside after lunch. The sun was warm, the grass smelled freshly cut, and the faint sound of his mom clattering dishes in the kitchen drifted through the open window.

Macklin sat beside you on the back steps, long legs stretched out across the yard, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on his shorts.

You leaned your shoulder against his, smiling at the sight of him so relaxed. Just Macklin, soft and quiet, and a little too handsome for his own good.

“Why are you staring?” he said without looking up, his voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Maybe it’s hard not to when my sugar is sitting right next to me.”

The thread slipped from his fingers. Slowly, he turned his head, eyes wide like you’d just spoken another language. “Here we go again..”

You bit back a laugh, watching the pink flush climb up his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. He ducked his face into his shoulder like he could hide from you, but not before you caught the way his lips twitched.

“Hmm?” you hummed, feigning innocence, nudging his arm. “You fit the name. You’re sweet and addicting, making everything better.”

He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “You’re calling me that around my family?” he muttered, voice muffled.

“Relax,” you teased, leaning closer. “They’re inside. It’s just me and you.”

He peeked at you, and his blush only deepened. The sound of the sliding door opening had him straightening up quickly, trying to will the color out of his face before anyone noticed.

Later, curled up together on his bed, he finally let out the complaint you knew had been building. His voice was muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“You’ve gotta stop with the names.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Why?”

“Because everyone’s giving me crap,” he mumbled. His voice was soft, almost embarrassed. “And you know I’m not good at dealing with that stuff..”

You tilted his chin so he’d look at you, even as his blush spread like wildfire across his cheeks.

Your smile softened instantly. You pressed a slow kiss to his burning cheek. “But I love calling you pet names.”

He groaned, laying back down on you. And the thing was, he could whine, hide his face or complain all he wanted but you knew deep down he would hate it if you stopped calling him those names.

[belli5]

Healing .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis When you get injured while playing hockey, and Macklin is there to take care of you.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x Crosby!reader. Fluff, slight angst, reader is Crosby’s daughter, established relationship, use of Y/n, injury.

➺ from Sera, to you. Requested. I had fun writing this lol, I can just imagine him being such a cutie while taking care of his gf.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You had grown up with people whispering behind your back the second you laced up skates. Crosby’s kid, the next one and anything you could possibly imagine.

It didn’t matter that you loved hockey for yourself, that the cold air and the snap of a puck against your stick made you feel alive. You were always his daughter first.

And tonight, for the first time, you wished you could shake that legacy.

The hit had come fast and ugly, an open-ice collision that left you gasping, your shoulder crumpling against the boards.

The sound of the whistle echoed in your ears, but so did the sharp, stinging ache that made your vision blur.

Trainers rushed over, and you wanted to wave them off, to prove you were tough like your dad, but the truth was simple: you couldn’t move your arm.

You hated the way the crowd murmured as they helped you off the ice. You hated that you caught sight of your father up in the stands, expression unreadable but hands balled into fists.

But most of all, you hated the worry on Macklin’s face as he leaned over to catch your eyes.

The locker room smelled of antiseptic and damp gear. You sat gingerly on the bench, shoulder wrapped in ice.

You were supposed to be thinking about the game, about recovery, about anything other than the boy pacing like a caged animal across the room.

“Mack,” you sighed. “You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”

He stopped, but only to crouch down in front of you, his green eyes scanning your face like he was cataloguing every wince. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m fine.”

“You can’t even lift your arm,” he shot back, voice tight. “That wasn’t just a small hit, Y/n. You-”His voice cracked, and he shook his head. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

For a moment, you almost laughed, this was Macklin, the guy who threw himself into corners like he had no regard for his own body, lecturing you about safety. But the way his hands trembled where they rested on his knees stopped you.

“I’ve had worse,” you said softly.

He looked up, and his jaw flexed. “Don’t do that. Don’t just brush it off.”

The words hit harder than the check had. You blinked, taken aback.

“You think I don’t notice?” Macklin went on, voice gentler now. “You’re always trying to prove you’re tougher, faster, stronger.. like people won’t take you seriously unless you’re invincible.” He reached forward, hesitating before brushing a piece of hair from your cheek. “But you don’t have to do that with me.”

Your throat tightened, heat pooling in you. You hated crying, especially in front of people, but here in the quiet, with just Macklin, the weight of expectations pressed down until your eyes burned.

“I just..” You swallowed hard. “I don’t want everyone thinking I only made it here because of my dad. That I’m-”

“Y/n,” Macklin interrupted softly, “you’re here because you’re good. Really good. I don’t care what your last name is.” His thumb traced along your jaw. “I care that you’re okay. And right now you’re not.”

The tears finally slipped free. You laughed wetly, half embarrassed. “You’re ridiculously sappy for a nhl star.”

He grinned, that crinkled his eyes. “Only for you.”

Later, at your apartment, Macklin insisted on helping you settle in. He made a dramatic show of fluffing pillows on the couch, tucking a blanket around you, and setting water within reach.

“You know,” you teased, “you’re starting to sound like a nurse.”

“Lucky for you, I’m good at assists,” he shot back. “I just I want to take care of you.”

You bit your lip, watching the way he hovered, uncertain but earnest. “You already are.”

“Alright,” he said, voice soft but mock serious, “doctor’s orders. Twenty minutes on, then off.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I’ve been icing injuries since I was a kid, Mack. I think I know how it works.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had me supervising,” he said smugly, easing the pack onto your shoulder with exaggerated care.

You hissed at the initial sting of cold, and immediately his free hand brushed your thigh, grounding you. “Sorry, too much?”

“No,” you admitted, teeth chattering a little. “It’s good. Just freezing.”

He smirked. “I could sit closer, warm you up.”

You gave him a playful shove with your good arm. “Don’t get too cocky now, Macklin.”

When the timer on his phone finally chimed, Macklin set the ice aside and grabbed the roll of bright pink kinesiology tape the trainer had sent you home with.

He turned it over in his hands, squinting at it like it was a puzzle.

“Okay, so the doctor said two strips, one here, one here,” you said, pointing vaguely to your shoulder. “You pull slightly, stick it down, and rub to activate the adhesive. Easy.”

“Easy,” he echoed, though his tongue poked out slightly as he concentrated. He peeled the backing off the first strip and leaned in, the warmth of his fingertips brushing your skin as he carefully laid it across the curve of your shoulder.

He smoothed it down in gentle strokes, pausing every few seconds to ask, “That okay? Not too tight?”

You couldn’t stop the little flutter in your chest. “Feels perfect.”

The second strip took him longer, but when he finally finished, he sat back proudly. “Look at that. Pink armor and you’re officially indestructible again.”

You laughed, glancing down at the tape. “Thanks, nurse Celebrini.”

He grinned, leaning closer. “Anytime. I like taking care of you.”

[belli5]

Game Surprise .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis On one of your soccer games, Macklin's face missing in the crowd, leaves you sad until a surprise appearance from Macklin and his family changes everything.

tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x reader. Fluff, established relationship, reader is a soccer player, nothing that im aware of.

➺ from Sera, to you. Requested. The way I told Phe I’m gonna post two fics today, but the chances of me posting two fics today is so low 💀

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

You tied the laces of your cleats a little tighter than usual, mostly to distract yourself from the empty space you felt in your chest.

The field around you buzzed with energy, teammates stretching, the sound of whistles echoing, the stands already filling up with parents and friends but all you could think about was the text Macklin had sent you that morning.

Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Wish I could be there. Score a goal for me? ❤️

You stared at the message for longer than you would admit, your throat tightening. You knew how busy he was with training, games, media stuff, it wasn’t like you didn’t understand.

But still, this was one of your biggest games of the season, and you had hoped he would be in the stands, cheering you on the way you always did for him.

You jogged out onto the field with your team, shaking off the disappointment, forcing a smile as the announcer introduced you.

The game kicked off quickly, and you tried to lose yourself in the rhythm: sprinting down the sideline, calling for passes, blocking opponents.

But every time you glanced at the stands, you couldn’t help but feel that pang of sadness.

Halftime couldn’t come soon enough. You trudged off the field, sweat dripping down your face, your chest heaving as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, wanting to make your way into the tunnel soon.

You still couldn’t shake it, Macklin had told you this morning that he couldn’t make it. You understood, of course, but a tiny ache still sat heavy in your chest.

You had wanted to see him in the stands, even just for a second.

Taking a long sip of water, you let your gaze wander over the stands. And that’s when your heart nearly stopped.

Right there in the front row seats, sat Macklin.

He was standing up, waving, a grin stretching across his face. And he wasn’t alone, his parents flanked him on either side, clapping proudly.

Your jaw dropped, you blinked once, twice, as if you were imagining it. Then a laugh bubbled out of you, sharp and shocked, as you shook your head. He told you he couldn’t come, he lied.

Not only had he shown up, he had brought his whole family.

You raised a hand toward them, a shy little wave, and immediately his family waved back.

Your cheeks burned, but suddenly, the ache in your chest was gone, replaced by a buzzing warmth that spread all the way to your toes. Macklin was here. They were all here.

When the whistle blew to start the second half, you jogged back onto the field, your steps lighter than before.

Every sprint felt easier, every touch sharper. You played freer and happier because Macklin was here.

And when you scored late in the second half, the first thing you did was glance up at them. Macklin was already on his feet, clapping and yelling, his smile so wide it made your heart ache.

His siblings were jumping up and down so wildly, the sight made you happy.

By the time the final whistle blew, you were exhausted, but you couldn’t stop smiling. You immediately made a way towards them, jogging straight toward where they waited.

You went for his mom first, throwing your arms around her. “You told me you guys couldn’t come!” you accused, your words muffled against her shoulder.

She laughed warmly, hugging you tight. “We had to make it a surprise. You were incredible out there.”

Next was his dad, who gave you a proud clap on the back before pulling you into a hug. “That goal was beautiful,” he said with a grin.

Then came his sibling, who practically launched themselves at you. You laughed, hugging them back.

“You guys, gave me good luck, I don’t think I would’ve scored without you all celebrating.”

Finally, you turned to Macklin. He was already grinning like he had been waiting all game for this moment. You stepped into his arms, hugging him tight, your forehead pressed to his chest.

“You’re such a liar,” you muttered, though your smile betrayed you.

“A liar who just got to watch you crush it,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Worth it, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you said, but your arms stayed wrapped around him.

He smirked, his hand warm against your back. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

You started the night thinking something was missing.

But now, standing there in their arms, his family hugs still lingering, Macklin’s embrace anchoring you, you realized you had been given more than you ever expected.