some of my fav teams are the bruins, the sharks, and the BC eagles. i’m a huuuge oshawa general fan as well!!
a few of my favorite players are gabe perreault (the loml), beckett sennecke (my literal husband), william eklund, leo carlsson, will vote, and fraser minten!!
𝙎𝙊𝘾𝙄𝘼𝙇𝙎
──୨ৎ──pinterest ──୨ৎ──tiktok ──୨ৎ──spotify ──୨ৎ──
✎ 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂
EVERYONE is welcome here but if you are uncomfortable/against +18 content you can leave me or block me. i put clear warnings at the beginning of each post.
I know I said I'd post this tomorrow, but I finished it earlier today, so why not just post it now?
First time writing for Fraser, I hope you all enjoy! 😊 2.4k words
You’re still half asleep when you blindly reach for your phone on your nightstand because it just will not stop going off. Lazily you squint against the brightness of the screen, and you’re greeted with a slew of messages from nearly every social app you have.
Instagram: 100+
TikTok: 100+
Follow requests, mentions, comments, reposts, likes, DMs from people you haven't talked to in years.
You have messages from nearly every single person in your contacts, but the ones that stick out are the two from Fraser.
Fraser: You awake sweet girl?
The second, sent less than a minute later:
Fraser: Don’t panic
Which, naturally, makes you panic immediately. You sit up so fast the blankets fall almost entirely off your body, confusion taking over now.
That’s when you notice your notifications keep climbing in real time. Your stomach drops, and you open TikTok first.
The first video on your feed is from the official Bruins account captioned: “Family Skate Day 🐻⛸️”
Oh no.
“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself.
The video starts innocently enough. Players’ kids skating around, players helping little cousins stand upright. A sibling or two crashing into the boards while everyone laughs. Then midway through the reel; there you are in the background.
Your face is only partially showing and the camera isn’t even fully focused on your features. You hadn’t even realized you were in frame.
Fraser is beside you, gliding backward effortlessly while holding both your hands because you’re still shaky on skates despite him trying to teach you how to properly skate multiple times. His head is tilted toward you, listening to something you’re saying, and he’s smiling in that small quiet way he does when he’s genuinely amused.
The clip cuts, then you show up in the background again.
This time you’re standing near the boards talking to one of the other girlfriends while Fraser skates past behind you, and without even looking, he reaches for your hand as he passes, just to give it a quick squeeze to remind you he’s around. You remember the moment exactly, you’d taken a break while he was skating circles around the rink with some of his teammates and some of the kids.
Near the end, there’s a blurry little background clip of you laughing about something while Fraser leans down and presses a quick kiss to your forehead before skating away again.
You make the mistake of checking the comments under the video, and it’s incredibly clear people noticed you and Fraser together:
THAT MAN IS IN LOVE
Bruins admin hard launching Fraser Minten was not on my bingo card…
Whoever she is, he adores her
Him skating backwards holding both her hands 😭😭 BYE
who IS she?!
You replay the video. Once, twice, three times.
The whole afternoon you weren’t exactly aware of the social media admin filming as much as they did, but then again you were just focused on having a good time with your boyfriend and his teammates and their families.
Your phone rings. Fraser.
You answer immediately. “You told me not to panic,” you say the second you pick up.
“Yeah.”
“Well I’m panicking.”
“I figured.”
His voice is calm, annoyingly calm like it always is. Like this isn’t the social equivalent of a small disaster currently unfolding in your bedroom.
“I have hundreds of follow requests.”
There’s a pause from his end. Then, carefully, “Okay.”
“Fraser.”
“Still listening.”
“You don’t understand, people are literally trying to figure out who I am.”
“You are who you are,” he says, as if that’s the answer. He has a hint of humor in his voice, probably hopeful to ,ale you laugh, but you’re just too overwhelmed.
You stare at the wall of your bedroom. “That’s not helpful right now.”
That gets a laugh out of him, soft through the phone. You can picture him already; hoodie on, hair messy, and leaning against his kitchen counter while making coffee like nothing is happening.
“I’m serious,” you say, voice quieter now. “I didn’t want…this.”
And immediately his tone changes, it becomes much softer, “I know.”
The anxiety pressing against your ribs eases slightly, because he does know. From the beginning, you’d been careful about privacy, and you’re very intentional about what you share, even with people you know. You like your quiet life. You like being separate from hockey and public attention.
Fraser had never pushed against that once. In fact he agreed to keep things private for both of your sakes, it was just simpler that way, less demanding for both of you, less stressful.
“I just feel weird,” you admit. “Like suddenly strangers are trying to know things about me and I really don’t like it.”
“Hey,” he says, trying to stop you from what you feel like is some kind of spiral in your head.
You close your eyes, and listen to him.
“You don’t owe anybody access to you,” he says gently. “Okay? None of this changes anything.”
You breathe out slowly, “I know, but it feels like it is. People know who I am now, like really know. They’re tagging me in stuff and I’m getting dozens of messages from people I don’t even know.”
“If people are being weird, tell me.”
You huff out a laugh, “What are you gonna do?”
You can hear his smile when he says, “Don’t know yet, but I’ll handle it. And if I can't, I can probably find someone who knows how.”
“Okay...”
Another buzz of notifications lights up your screen. You groan dramatically and flop backward onto the bed, “They’re just not stopping.”
Fraser hums quietly again, “You want me to come over?”
Your answer is immediate, “Yes please.”
—
By the time Fraser gets to your apartment, you’ve migrated to the couch wrapped in a blanket like its protective armor. Your legs are drawn up to your chest, chin resting on your knees. Your coffee sits abandoned on the table in front of you, and your phone sits right next to it. It hasn’t stopped going off since you woke up.
Fraser lets himself in with the spare key you gave him months ago, and the second he sees your eyebrows knit together and a frown on your lips, his whole expression becomes gentler.
“Oh, honey.”
You point accusingly at him, “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” he asks as he sets his keys on the table by the door, and kicks his shoes off.
“You’re too affectionate in public.”
He looks genuinely confused by that, “I just held your hand. I hold your hand all the time.”
“Yeah, you held my hand, Fraser. Apparently that’s devastatingly sweet to people online. And the only reason it’s bad is because everyone saw it, and now all your fans are scouring the internet for information about me..”
That earns a laugh from him, “So now I can only hold your hand in private?”
You nod, a very serious pout on your face.
He walks over, nudging your legs just enough to sit down before pulling you against his chest. “You okay?” he murmurs into your hair.
“Mostly embarrassed,” you say, messing with a loose thread on his sweatpants.
He shakes his head, “You shouldn’t be.”
Easy for him to say. He’s been recognizable since he was a teenager.
You tilt your head back to look at him, “You seriously don’t get why people are freaking out?”
“No, not really. ”
“Fraser, the comments are analyzing your body language, making comments about me, about how we are around one another even though the clips are only like three seconds each and we’re in the background every time—”
He cuts you off, “That’s weird.”
“I know.”
He thinks about this for a second, then he says, “I was just holding your hand.”
Your expression softens helplessly, because the thing for him is; it really is that simple. He reaches for you because he likes touching you, and he kisses your forehead because he wants to. Looking for you is automatic for him, his brain just does it, he doesn’t have to think about it. None of it is performative, it’s just how he is.
“People know now,” you mumble.
“Know what?”
“That we’re together.”
“…Were we hiding it?” he asks, with genuine confusion in his voice.
You pull back a bit to stare at him, “Yes?”
“I thought we were just private.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“It’s not, really.”
You groan and drop your forehead against his collarbone. Your phone buzzes against the coffee table again. And again. And again. You don’t even want to look anymore, at this point you want to shut it off and not leave your apartment for the next week if not longer.
“People are finding my accounts, I don’t even have public accounts but people are just requesting, and digging, and…it’s too much, I don’t like it. I just want it to stop.”
Fraser gently puts his hands on either side of your head, moving it so that you’re looking at him instead of hiding. “Hey,” he says, “It’s okay.”
“It is not okay,” you say weakly. “I had a plan for this.”
“A plan?” he asks, a small smile on his face.
“Yes.”
“You made a relationship publicity plan?”
“You didn’t?”
He chuckles a little, “No,” he says honestly.
Which, unfortunately, sounds exactly like him. You let out a stressed laugh despite yourself, covering your face with both hands.
Fraser gently pulls your wrists down so he can actually see you, “You don’t have to look at any of it right now.”
“But—”
“You don’t.”
His thumbs brush over your wrists in comfort, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did I.”
You exhale shakily, “I just don’t like strangers knowing things about me. It makes me feel really weird.”
“I know, baby.” And he does. Fraser knows how carefully you move through the world, how selective you are with what you share. How highly you value privacy and routine and control over your own life, so all this sudden attention feels suffocating.
His expression softens a little, “We’ll handle it, and it’ll be okay, I promise you. I know it’s a lot right now but it’ll die down.”
“You’re unbelievably calm right now,” you say, your voice still small.
“I don’t really get why everyone’s freaking out.”
You let out an incredulous laugh, “Fraser.”
“What?”
“The forehead kiss?”
“What about it?”
He clearly doesn’t get where you’re going with this,“The hand holding?” you ask.
He shrugs, “I was helping you skate, I always hold your hands when we skate.”
You just stare at him. Fraser’s mouth twitches a little when he realizes he’s losing this argument.
“Okay,” he says finally, quieter now, “maybe the PDA was a little obvious.”
You groan again, this time mostly out of affection. He smiles properly then, down at you. It’s his small and soft smile that you absolutely adore.
“C’mere,” he mutters.
He pulls you into him again before you can protest, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other settles warm against the back of your neck. You melt almost instantly, cheek pressing into his hoodie.
“People are scary,” you mumble.
He rests his chin lightly against the top of your head, “They’ll calm down.”
“Want me to do something about all this?”
You tilt your head back slightly, “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Post you or something.”
Your eyes widen, “That’s a lot…that’s not exactly subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be subtle,” he says simply, “I’m trying to make people stop digging.”
Of course his solution would be straightforward, and it makes sense. There’s no games, no weird secrecy, no room for the public to spiral about who you are, what you are to him, and so on. For him it’s just: yes, this is my girlfriend. Please leave her alone.
You look at him carefully, “You’d post me?”
Another tiny confused crease between his brows. “Why wouldn’t I?” The sincerity in his voice hits harder than you expect, like it’s completely obvious and he doesn’t really get why you’re so shocked by this.
To him, loving you publicly was never the scary part.
Eventually, after another hour of you spiraling quietly and Fraser calmly talking you down from every ledge your brain creates, you end up stretched beside him on the couch while you hide under his arm pretending not to monitor your notifications anymore, but every time your phone buzzes you start the spiral all over.
After a while you feel his chest move with a quiet laugh.
You look up at him, confused, “What?”
He angles his phone toward you. His Instagram story.
It’s a photo you didn’t even realize had been taken. Fraser is sprawled out across a lawn, one arm braced behind him while you sit practically folded into his lap. Your arms loop around his shoulders, leaning in close enough that your face disappears against his. It’s simple, and it’s so you, like he knew that this picture in particular captured how the two of you were naturally.
Written in the space underneath the center of the photo:
My girl 💛 Please be respectful of her privacy, and be kind
“Oh,” you say, almost timidly.
Beside you, Fraser looks over cautiously, “Too much? You want me to take it down?”
You shake your head quickly. “No,” you mumble, “No, it’s…nice.”
His expression relaxes, and then he leans over and presses a kiss against your forehead exactly the same way he had at family skate a few days earlier. “You okay?” he asks softly.
You look down at your phone again, where the follow requests have already slowed, then back at him. He’s undoubtedly calm, his demeanor still steady, just looking at you like this isn’t complicated at all. He makes it much much easier to breathe.
“Yeah,” you say finally, curling closer into his side. Fraser hums quietly, arm tightening around your waist before he reaches for the remote with his free hand like this is just another normal day. Maybe, with him, it still can be.
“Can we just stay here all day?”
He hums, “Yeah baby, we can. We’ll just wait it out, I’ll make you some tea, we can watch something, do that lego set you ordered…” and as he continues to list things for you to spend the day doing, you let yourself relax. It’s still a lot, but less so now, and a part of you is happy that this is finally public. People know he’s yours and you’re his, and you can finally, fully exist in that.
I just need to touch his biceps. Maybe a little nom nom while we’re at it 🫰🏻🥹
this is nice to wake up to
cooing you when you nuzzle into his arm on the couch, telling you it’s okay to bite him because he knows you’ve been stressed and he secretly likes feeling the pressure, likes seeing the indent of your canines on his skin after.. like some sort of weird artwork. and when you accidentally draw blood—you didn’t mean to, seriously—he mocks you about it endlessly, but is so hypocritical because when he starts to see the purple fading away, he’ll get you to “hurt” him some more.
hmm watches you with hooded eyes as you drag your tongue along his veins
