btw!!!! i’m not deleting any requests that comes my way, i’m saving them all. i will be posting them all, except from smutty asks or ones that make me uncomfortable (which is smut or something LMFAOOO)
here are the requests that i'm deleting, because they longer give me a spark to write (like at all!):
girl dad!macklin, dad!macklin, first father's day with dad!macklin, bf!macklin x gf!reader first argument, bf!macklin x influencer!gf!reader, telling bf!mack that you're pregnant and hyper sensitive/emotional!gf!reader x bf!reader argument.
i mean this with no shade... i don't wanna clog up my brain or burn myself out with requests that no longer give me a spark to write, otherwise i'll just be back at square one, which i don't wanna go back too lol.
I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.
Reader trying to surprise Mack at worlds and having to low key ghost him to travel to Switzerland. Trying to sneak up on him but he recognizes your perfume immediately and you don’t even get the chance to actually surprise him, he just whips around and is immediately on you
"I know your perfume" is crazyyy, and I love it 🥹 3.5k words
Thank you for reading! :)
You’re exhausted by the time you finally get to the arena, like aching deep in your bones exhausted. The type of tired where nothing feels real and you think you might fall asleep standing up.
Too many hours on planes, too much airport coffee, barely any sleep, and an entire week of pretending you weren’t secretly flying across the world to surprise your boyfriend. Which, turns out, is really hard when your boyfriend is Macklin Celebrini and insists on calling you every night.
You had to get creative. You’d had shorter calls lately, and weird excuses to not call at all. Your phone was dying, you were “busy” at weird hours because you had to make sure the timezones and excuses matched up between home and Switzerland.
By day three, he’d started sounding suspicious, and by day five, he was definitely annoyed.
“You’ve been weird all week,” he said when he called you one night that you actually picked up. Thank god it was a phone call and not a FaceTime. When he said it he sounded upset, and at that you’d nearly folded but kept yourself together.
“I’ve just been really busy, Mack, I’m so sorry.”
Which technically wasn’t a lie, you had been busy. Busy packing your suitcase for the next few weeks (hopefully longer if you could convince him staying at a beach in Europe after the tournament ends is an excellent idea). Busy figuring out layovers and logistics, busy texting Fraser Minten to make sure Macklin wasn’t starting to suspect any surprises.
But it was all worth it, because now here you are, credentials hanging around your neck, and heart pounding stupidly hard as one of the Team Canada staff quietly lets you through the hallway toward the locker rooms and family area.
“You’re sure he doesn’t know?” the woman asks with a grin.
“He better not,” you answer, “I’ve been making sure through hearing from the other guys on the team.”
The hallway is quieter than you expected, the tunnel oddly long compared to others you’d been in before. Most of the noise is coming from either down the tunnel or somehow echoing through the concrete walls.
Most of the noise is coming from media somewhere, occasional laughter from teams, phones ringing and footsteps echoing quickly from the people behind the scenes who keep these events running.
Your stomach flips nervously as you keep walking, you haven’t seen him in almost three weeks. Properly, that is. All you’ve had recently is blurry FaceTimes, and occasional rushed phone calls. You see the things people have been posting online, him sending you updates about his days off, you doing the same (although most of it was made up for the sake of planning the trip).
And suddenly you feel ridiculous for being nervous because this is Macklin. Your boyfriend, the person who doesn’t make you this type of nervous anymore. The same boy who falls asleep halfway through movies, and steals your hoodies, and complains dramatically whenever you stop scratching his back.
Even despite all of that, your pulse is racing.
The staff member points toward the lounge area near the hallway to the locker room, “They should be out in a couple minutes.”
You nod quickly, “Thank you.”
The woman gives you a quick smile, and then she’s off back down the hall, and you’re standing in the family area of the arena, alone.
You smooth your hands nervously over your sleeves, already planning it in your head.
You’re wanting to surprise him, like actually surprise him. So, the plan is: you’ll wait until he walks past, sneak up behind him, hug him but not in a way that’s supposed to scare him, that’s the last thing you want.
Footsteps echo suddenly around the corner, you hear a chorus of voices talking, laughing, shouting. A few players walk past you, some don’t notice you, some smile and nod in your direction.
Towards the back of the group you’re met with the smiling face of Fraser Minten, who you were checking in with constantly to make sure Macklin wasn’t suspecting anything.
He stops in front of you, while people from the team continue walking past. “He stayed back to talk to a few of the coaches, he should be out in a second,” Fraser says.
“Great,” you tell him, “Thanks again for all the help, I think this whole thing went a lot smoother with an inside source.”
He laughs at that, “Well I’m happy to have helped. I know he’ll be happier than he’s probably ever been to see you, he’s been moping around the past few hours because you weren’t answering any texts.”
“I feel a little bad that I started ignoring him almost completely,” you admit.
Fraser shakes his head, “You’ll forget about it when you see him, I’m sure. You want me to stand here and hide you so it’s more of a surprise?”
The suggestion seems silly, it makes you laugh, but you nod, “That’d actually be great, thanks.”
So, Fraser moves to block the little corner you’re tucked into, keeping a light conversation with you, while you wait for Macklin to come down the hall.
After a couple of minutes you hear his voice echoing from the hall, and footsteps getting a little louder. It sounds like he’s still talking to his coaches, about plays, schedules, all the things he keeps filed off in his mind when he’s at an event like this.
Then he comes into view. You know what he looks like obviously, but seeing him in person after weeks apart feels different somehow. Team Canada gear, hair messy and damp from a shower, face slightly flushed from practice. He’s half-listening to one of his coaches while scrolling through his phone, probably texting you, if you had to guess.
You bite back a smile immediately, Fraser still standing in front of you, pretending to be scrolling on his phone in an attempt to look busy so no one stops to talk to him.
You wait until he’s almost past you before stepping forward quietly, almost falling into step behind him, ready to touch his shoulders and hopefully make up for all the dry responses and missed calls over the past week and a half.
Before you can even reach your hand out, his entire body pauses. Not dramatically, he just literally stops walking for a second, and everyone else around him stops too.
You barely even have time to react before he turns sharply around, facing you. His eyes widen instantly, “What?”
You start laughing immediately, “No way, you just ruined the whole surprise, I was going to—”
He’s already moving before you can finish your sentence. “You are terrible at sneaking up on people,” he says, and then he’s suddenly right there, both hands grabbing your waist as his expression completely breaks open into disbelief.
“You weren’t supposed to know it was me!”
“I know your perfume,” he says like it’s obvious.
You stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, it’s that vanilla one, can’t miss it.”
You hit his shoulder lightly, “Macklin!”
He’s grinning now, wide and stunned and happy in a way that makes your chest ache.
“When did you get here?” he asks quickly.
“A few hours ago, really early this morning."
“You flew all the way to Switzerland and didn’t tell me?”
“That was the surprise part, yeah.”
He just looks at you for another second like he still can’t fully believe you’re actually standing in front of him. Then his arms tighten around your waist suddenly and he pulls you fully against him, hard enough that you let out a small laugh.
“Oh my god.”
“You ghosted me for a week,” he mumbles into your hair.
“I was busy orchestrating a surprise.”
“You hung up on me twice.”
“That was for the bit.”
He finally pulls back enough to look at you again, hands still firmly on your waist like he thinks you might disappear if he lets go.
“You’re insane,” he says softly, but there’s so much affection underneath it. You smile, “You missed me.”
“I was becoming miserable.”
You laugh immediately. “I know, Fraser told me.”
“You know what?” he says suddenly, still holding onto your waist, “I almost got genuinely mad at you yesterday.”
You gasp dramatically. “At me? Never.”
“Yes, at you,” he says, laughing now. “You ignored, like, four texts in a row.”
“I was on three separate flights, Mack,” you remind him.
“You could’ve sent something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’m secretly flying internationally to surprise you I’ll make sure my communication is better,” you say sarcastically.
“Thank you,” he says seriously.
You stare at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you flew across the world for me,” he quips.
“That was actually for Fraser, you just happened to be here too.”
From behind him, Fraser immediately points at himself, “See? I told you I was everyone’s favorite.”
Macklin twists around slightly, “Don’t start.”
“You were pouting all week,” Fraser continues, fully ignoring him now. “Every five minutes it was, ‘She’s being weird,’ or ‘Do you think she’s mad at me?’”
Your jaw drops as you look back at Macklin, “You thought I was mad at you?”
“A little bit,” he admits, suddenly looking sheepish. “You kept ending calls early.”
You grin slowly, “Aww.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
“I was stressed,” he says.
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
You laugh again, and it hits you suddenly how much you missed this. Not just seeing him, but this specific kind of ease between you. It’s moments like this that remind you how good you feel just being around him, because he gets you and you get him. He just makes everything better.
Like now, even while talking, he still hasn’t let go of your waist once.
One of the assistant coaches says something to him from farther down the hall, and Macklin glances over briefly before immediately looking back at you.
“Are you busy right now?” he asks.
You blink. “I flew all the way over here to see you, I didn’t make any individual plans.”
“Okay good,” he says quickly, not catching the joking tone in your voice. He starts pulling you alongside him, “Then you’re coming with me everywhere.”
“Macklin.”
“I’m serious.”
“You have team obligations.”
“Mhm,” he hums, still walking.
“Media, meetings, other stuff probably,” you add.
“Probably,” he confirms.
You can’t help laughing, “You’re clingy.”
“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”
“Okay, that’s fair, but that doesn’t make you less clingy.”
“It actually does.”
Fraser snorts behind you, “No it doesn’t.”
Macklin throws him a betrayed look over his shoulder while you laugh harder.
The team slowly filters around you as everyone heads deeper into the arena, but Macklin keeps you tucked firmly against his side the entire time, one hand still resting at your waist. You glance up at him while he talks briefly with one of the staff members, and for a second you just watch him.
The hoodie with the captain’s C stitched on it, the flushed cheeks from practice, the stupidly soft look in his eyes every time he glances back at you like he still can’t believe you’re actually here.
He catches you staring almost immediately. “What?” he asks.
You answer quickly, “Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
You smile, “I just missed you.”
His entire expression softens instantly. Then, quietly, so only you can hear it, he says, “I missed you so bad.”
You lean into him a little more, touched by the sincerity in his voice. Exhaustion is finally catching up to you now that you’ve seen him, it’s like now that your body knows it can relax. Macklin notices immediately, because of course he does.
“You’re tired,” he says softly.
“A little,” you mutter.
“A little?” He looks horrified. “You look like you’re about to pass out standing up.”
You give him a deadpan look, “Thank you so much.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I know,” you laugh tiredly.
He studies your face for another second before turning toward one of the staff members nearby. “What time do we have to be back tomorrow morning?” he asks her.
“Not until ten,” she replies.
Macklin nods once, already deciding something in his head. Then he looks back at you. “Alright well, that means we’re headed out.”
You’re immediately confused, because you thought he had more to do here, “What?”
“You need sleep.”
“But you have things to do.”
“I’m done now.”
“You’re not done now, I saw the schedule they just showed you.”
He shrugs. “I can be done, I’ll just make it up tomorrow.”
You narrow your eyes. “Macklin Celebrini, captain of Team Canada, trying to skip responsibilities?”
He smiles, “Yep.”
You laugh loudly enough that a couple of his teammates glance over, and Macklin just grins at you, looking far too pleased with himself. Then he leans down slightly, forehead brushing yours for a second despite the busy hallway around you.
“C’mon,” he murmurs softly, pulling you in the direction of the exits, “I just want my girl back for a little while.”
⊰══════════════════════⊱
The ride back to the hotel is so quiet and calm that you nearly fall asleep in the car. You’re practically folded into Macklin’s side in the backseat of the team car while the city glows outside the windows in blurry streaks of gold and white. His arm stays looped around your shoulders the entire drive, thumb lazily tracing back and forth against your sleeve like he can’t stop touching you now that you’re finally physically with him again.
Every few minutes he looks down at you again like he’s double checking you’re here, and that you’re awake.
“You’re staring,” you mumble eventually, eyes half-shut.
“You flew across the world for me,” he says for probably the sixth time in the last hour.
You affectionately roll your eyes, “Yes, Macklin. We’ve established that.”
“I still think that’s insane,” he says with a smile on his face.
You laugh quietly, too tired to properly argue anymore.
By the time you finally get upstairs and into his hotel room, your body feels incredibly heavy with exhaustion. The second the door shuts behind you, Macklin drops his duffel bag by the wall and immediately turns toward you again.
“Oh baby…” he says softly.
You blink at him, slowly, “What?”
“You’re doing the exhausted blinking thing. You’re tired, tired, huh?”
You smile tiredly as he walks back over, both hands settling on your waist again automatically like they belong there.
“That’s because I’ve been awake for like twenty hours.”
His eyebrows shoot up immediately, “Twenty?”
You wince a little, “Maybe more, can’t remember.”
“Oh my god,” he whispers as his hand comes up to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb running along your jaw.
“That’s actually insane behavior,” he says, “Maybe next time plan something that’s not going to absolutely drain you.”
“I had layovers!” you argue.
“You should’ve tried to sleep on the plane.”
“I can’t sleep good on a plane.”
He hums, “Yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath, “C’mere.”
Before you can even ask what he means because you’re standing right in front of him, he’s gently taking your backpack off your shoulders and setting it by the door. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” you mumble.
“I know,” he says easily, “But I want to.”
You think exhaustion is making you more emotional than usual because suddenly that answer almost makes you tear up. Macklin notices your expression immediately, “What?” he asks carefully, “Something wrong, you okay?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly, “I’m okay.”
“That was definitely something.”
You shake your head, smiling a little, “I just missed you.”
His face softens instantly in that way that still catches you off guard sometimes, no matter how long you’ve been together. He reaches for your hand then, intertwining your fingers and tugging you further into the room. “Okay,” he says. “You’re showering, and then you’re sleeping for like twelve consecutive hours.”
You sigh dramatically, “That sounds perfect.”
He laughs quietly under his breath, and pushes you slightly towards the bathroom.
The shower starts with Macklin practically steering you toward the bathroom by your shoulders while you mumble sleepy complaints the whole way.
“You know I can wash my own hair, right?” you say as he adjusts the water temperature for you.
“Mhm.”
“You’re acting like I’m dying or something.”
“You haven’t slept in like a full day,” he argues, stepping into the steam with you. “Just let me take care of you for five minutes.”
Honestly, you’re too tired to fight him on it, so you let him.
You let him pull you gently against his chest under the warm water, letting him carefully work shampoo through your hair while your eyes drift shut. His fingers massage slowly against your scalp, gently, and the entire time he keeps one hand steady at your waist like he’s afraid your exhausted body might just tip over.
You hum sleepily. “Feels nice.”
“I know it does.” The whole thing is unbearably tender in that very Macklin way, quiet and attentive. So full of care he doesn’t even realize he’s showing. He rinses the shampoo from your hair carefully, and brushes wet strands away from your face afterward. Finally he presses a soft kiss to your forehead while warm water runs around both of you.
“You’re falling asleep standing up again,” he says quietly.
You barely crack one eye open. “Your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You made it too relaxing, you’re basically putting me to sleep.”
He laughs softly under his breath, pulling you closer for another second before reaching for the soap. “Okay,” he says gently. “C’mon, baby. Let me finish taking care of you so I can put you to bed.”
Macklin wraps a towel around your shoulders the second you step out of the shower, immediately rubbing warmth back into your arms when you shiver from the cooler air outside the steam.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod against his chest, eyes heavy. “Tired.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
He dries your hair gently with another towel while you lean against the counter half-asleep, occasionally blinking up at him while he works. Every once in a while he presses kisses to your forehead or temple between motions, like he physically cannot stop himself from touching you now that you’re here.
“You don’t have to do all this,” you mumble again, voice sleepy.
Macklin just gives you a look through the mirror. “Yes I do.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it makes you laugh quietly.
Once he’s satisfied you’re warm enough again, he guides you back into the room with a hand resting at your lower back. He quietly digs through his suitcase and yours, throwing you one of his t-shirts and a pair of your sleep shorts.
Sluggishly, you pull the clothes onto your body while he does the same with a pair of sweatpants.
After you’re dressed you barely make it two steps toward the bed before dramatically faceplanting into the mattress. Macklin laughs immediately behind you.
“Oh my god,” he says. “You’re actually done.”
You make a muffled noise into the blankets, “Can’t feel my legs.”
“That tends to happen when you refuse to sleep for nearly twenty-four hours and you've been running around airports the whole time."
You feel the mattress dip beside you a second later before his hands slide carefully under your waist, tugging you farther up the bed properly.
“So demanding,” you mumble.
“Mhm,” he hums.
You barely even register him pulling the blankets over you before you instinctively reach for him in your exhaustion, and Macklin’s expression softens instantly at that.
Without a word he slides in beside you, arms wrapping around you immediately, warm from the shower and smelling like soap and shampoo and home somehow, even though you’re thousands of miles away from it.
You curl into him automatically, face tucked against his chest while his hand drifts slowly up to the back of your neck, massaging the tension out of it.
You hum tiredly against him.
His lips brush lightly against your damp hair. “Get some sleep, okay?”
You nod faintly, already halfway there, “Okay.”
You turn in his arms, your back now pressed against his chest, his arm still looped firmly around your waist. His nose nuzzles the skin underneath your ear, and he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.
“Sleep as long as you want, m’not going anywhere,” he says against your skin, “I love you, I’m so glad you’re here. Sweet dreams, angel.”
You try to say it back, try to tell him you love him too, but all that comes out is a sleepy little noise that makes him laugh softly against your neck. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “That’s about what I expected.”
The last thing you remember before sleep starts pulling you under is Macklin’s hand spreading warm and steady across your stomach, holding you against him like he’s making up for every second you spent apart.
Mack is playing in the world championship today. The biggest day in his career other than getting drafted at 18 years old. You were there sitting with his family along side his girlfriend. You never liked her but tolerated her for Mack. They’ve been rocky lately but you only know that due to Mack telling you everything in his life since you’ve been friends for years. When team Canada lost the gold medal, your jaw dropped and your blood started to boil watching his girlfriend get up and leave. Completely dismissing Mack and his feelings. When you looked back at him, he was already watching with tears in his eyes. What hurt most? Losing the game or realizing he chose the wrong girl?
Wrong Choice
Pairing: Macklin Celebrini x best friend!reader
Summary: After Mack’s girlfriend leaves him after the devastating loss at worlds, he realizes something he didn’t before.
WC: 1,083
You feel your heart drop as you watch Norway cheer on the ice. Your heart drops even more when you see Mack on the center of the ice, staring up at the score of the game with a defeated look on his face. You know how devastated he was at the Olympics. You also know how he was looking at the world championships as a redo of what happened at the Olympics. He’s put a lot of pressure on himself for these world games, feeling as though he needs to live up to the C on his jersey.
You also know how absolutely wrecked he probably is right now. No one works harder than him. He puts in countless hours into training, playing until he is so physically exhausted he can’t move. You can’t count the amount of times he’s called you and confessed how tired he is, how his body hurts, how he needs more sleep. Yet he keeps going, waking up early to train, and going to bed late. To him he’ll never be good enough, and losing worlds will just put him further in that delusion.
No one around you moves. Not Mack’s parents, not his sister, no one. Everyone is dead silent, seemingly thinking the same thing as you. That is until you catch his girlfriend moving out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to look at her. She’s standing up, grabbing her purse. You dart your eyes to Mack’s mom in confusion. She just shrugs her shoulders, looking as confused as you. Maybe his girlfriend is just emotional?
You watch his girlfriend leave, not even glancing back. She doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t even look at the ice towards her boyfriend.
You have to restrain yourself from running after her and letting her know what you really think of her. You can’t believe she actually left before the medal ceremony, before awards, before seeing Mack.
You hate her, you have since the moment you met her. She was always so rude to you and to Mack’s family. She’s even more rude to Mack, which he was always too blind in love to see.
At least he used to be in love with her. Lately he’s been calling you sounding so frustrated with her. They fight constantly, Mack tells you about it every time. She expects so much from him, claiming he’s embarrassing her when he doesn’t score a certain amount of goals, he’s not attentive enough to her, he doesn’t post her enough. Everything he does seems to bother her. The past few calls you’ve gotten from him, you can tell he doesn’t love her the way he used to. Which both elates you and makes you upset.
Upset that he is going through all of that in his personal life on top of the things that are happening with his career. It also makes you happy because that means Mack is starting to realize he deserves better.
You push down all of the emotions and look away from her empty seat. Your eyes find Mack again. He’s already staring up at you. His lips are in a thin line and he’s shaking his head. Clearly he notices his girlfriend’s absence. Even from here you can see that his eyes are glistening. Your heart breaks even more because Mack never cries like that in public. Not when there are cameras everywhere.
He turn his back to you, likely to hide his emotions from you and his family. You feel sick at the sight.
—
You’re standing next to his mom outside of the player’s locker room, her hand resting on your shoulder comfortingly. She knows you just as well as her own son. After years of being Mack’s best friend she can read your facial expressions quite well. She knows how worried you are for Mack just based off the way you’re biting your lips.
Players start to come out, some offering small smiles to the family members, some not bothering to hide their feelings. Then Mack comes out. The second he sees his family, he breaks. His dad pulls him into a hug immediately. His mom leaves your side to comfort Mack as well. They both mutter encouragements and apologies to him.
After a few moments Mack looks up. Right at you. The tear tracks on his face make you so irrationally sad. You’d go to the end of the earth to make sure he never feels like this again.
His parents let him go, sensing that he wants to see you now. He walks over to you slowly, just staring at you. You open your arms and he collapses into them. His arms go around your waist and his head buries into the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, praying he can feel how proud you are of him.
“Thank you for staying.” He mutters through shallow breaths. You can sense the underlying message of his sentence. You stayed, his girlfriend didn’t. You support him unconditionally, his girlfriend doesn’t.
You can’t lie, you’ve imagined life as Mack’s girlfriend. You’ve longed for experiencing what it’s like to hear him say that he loves you, waking up next to him, kissing him. You started to fantasize about it even more when he started dating that girl. You’d fantasize about how you’d treat him better than her, how well you two would fit together. You already do fit together so perfectly.
“Always, Macky, always.” You whisper back. And you mean it as a promise. No matter what happens to you two, you’ll always be there for Mack.
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. There’s a different emotion on his face, one you’re not that familiar with. He opens his mouth to say something. Then he closes his mouth again, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I think I made the wrong choice.” He says softly.
Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You’re not sure what he means but your intuition is telling you that Mack just confessed something serious to you. Something that could change your friendship forever.
You don’t ask to clarify, not while his family is standing a few feet away, not after he just lost an important game. You just pull him back in for another hug, your head running with a million different thoughts.
Mack squeezes you tighter, a realization hanging heavy on his heart. It’s always been you.
Could you write one for Macklin after todays loss. Can be sad, fluff or smut. Anything you think fits.
but i love you, we'll get past this
read this ⋮ macklin’s playlist
it's sad and kinda fluffy! fyi, i didnt watch today's game, so this is gonna be about the aftermaths of the game! + this was also requested by @septembervirgorose too and this is inspired by the post-chorus and ending of ghostin by ariana grande!
mentions: depressing asf pov from macklin, indications of regret, suicide, depression and dissapointment, and slight comfort! lol, good luck LFMAO.
after scouting out for mack, you quickly looked up to the jumbotron with 2 - 3 plastered across the screen. you knew how the next few weeks were going to be like...
while the noisy nosebleeds and plexiglass partisans slowly made their ways back home, you weaved throughout the crown to meet macklin back at the family room.
as you finally settle yourself in the family room, you're knees' are bouncing, biting your nails nervously and the waves of heart palpitations, fluttering and crashing around your chest like heavy waves losing their balance on the sea's surface.
mack's thoughts were buzzing around him like an angry hive. every thoughts that passed by him, grew louder and louder. mack's senses were so heightened, that one skate in front of the other announced the sharpest cut, ringing from one ear to the other from below him, poisoning him by perdition.
mack couldn't bare the vision of his section of the locker room, he didn't see his hockey gear or personal items... all he saw was regret carved into the beige, waxed wood in front of him. beads of sweat slowly trailing past his flushed cheeks, constantly squeezing the sweat out of his eyebrows with the back of his ached out hands.
he couldn't form any kind of normal thoughts, all distorted like a broken record. his limbs feels hollowed to the fullest they can be, he peels off his retched gear. not even his clean clothes couldn't make him feel a millimeter cleaner to feel, seen, think or function clearer about he could of been a better for captain or being better off gone from this moment eternally.
after mack freshened up, he just walked past his teammates, they knew how this kid was feeling, especially sidney. you heard the team finally making their way to the family room, to be reunited with their loved ones.
mack was the first one out... keeping his head down, trying to stifle his tears. as soon your perfume entered his close vicinity, he just couldn't hold it back anymore. the rush of his large bag falling to the floor, created a quick gale of force around his bag, quickly sending a breeze to flail the hem around your leggings.
you couldn't even imagine what he's feeling or imagining... he drops his head into the crook of your neck, feeling his tear-stained cheeks against your collarbone. mack's aching arms start crawling around to the small of your back. his large palms squeezed you deeper into him, every shuddered gasp from his cries, rattled through your chest. you rubbed your hand up and down his back, repetitively giving his kisses along his neck. after a few second of mack releasing this long term surpression of dissapointment, you cupped his face, feeling the surge of warmth across his flushed cheeks. you kept wiping away the falling tears, rolling down his face with the pads your thumbs.
"we'll get past this, we'll get through this... okay honey." you softly reassured him, both gradually nodding your heads in unison. "i know... i haven't complete a...a...anything in my career. why do i even bother?!" mack sniveled. mack started to wipe his own tears, while the palm of your hands is rubbing up and down his chest to create somatic relief. you picked up his hockey bag, despite the size difference between you and the bag. you held your arm out for him, to firmly hold on to.
after you guys slowly drifted towards his car, you took the keys from his bag. mack definitely didn't have the energy to drive, after today's setback... you gave mack is water bottle, after packing his items in the truck. while he kept sipping on his water bottle, you ran your fingers through his hair, removing any lose strands of hair away from his face, sorting out the collar of his jumper and wiping away any more tears that fell from his red, stinging eyes.
"i think it's appropriate that i drive us, back home and you need to sleep and gain somewhat energy back for now... i love you, i'm right here and you will get through this..." you gave him a warm smile, mack gave a quick nod back for a response.
as you open the car door for mack, he settles in his seat. "i love you and please sleep." as you said to him sweetly, holding and kissing the back of his hand. you quick walk around the front of car to start the peaceful drive home...
no yeah, he’s currently thinking about not getting gold in the olympics, being eliminated from the playoffs, never had the chance of being apart of the stanley cups final and now not even winning bronze in the finals. he hasn’t won anything major at all this year yet…
