pairing — connor bedard x fem!reader | established relationship
note — IM TERRIFIED TO POST THESE CS ANOTHER WRITER HERE HAS MADE A LOT OF RLLY GOOD BEDSY BF TEXTS AND I DONT WANNA SEEM LIKE IM REHEATING THEIR NACHOS 💔 an idea js came to me and i knew i had to share it to the world so pls dont come for me HELP also this might be rlly bad and my excuse is that its been a hot minute since i made anything like this so. and unfortunately im not that funny but i had a giggle making these
warning(s) — "lets see sum" mention, swearing, there's one where reader is drunk, there's one where connors at a hospital, using baby as a petname, mostly gn except for a one detail, lmk if there's more
genre: soo much fluff, friends to ?? (but implied lovers) | wc: 1.2k
synopsis: macklin asks you out to prom, not before freaking out, though, of course. and he uses your love for donuts as an advantage.
warnings: reader loves donuts (specifically dunkin) LOL, reader is mentioned to dislike math but it isn't important (implied that reader isn't bad at it tho), idk mack's super awkward, this is set before he got drafted (in my head he's in highschool so that'd mean he'd have to be 16 ,,, sorry lol im 15, but this could be in an au where he didn't go to BU till he was 18 ... idk wtvr works for u 😅)
A/N: i struggled to write this idk why, but i kinda like how it turned out! originally was gonna write this for cale makar cs im in srs need of cale fics but thought mack would b cute too!
credits — gif divider by @uzmacchiato !
Macklin Celebrini has never been this nervous before.
Numerous face-offs and championship games, yet this is what has his hands shaking—constantly wiping his palms on his jeans because apparently his nervous system can't tell the difference between being chased by a bear and asking a girl out to prom.
Yep, this is all because he’s asking you to prom.
He feels pathetic. A couple of days before, while he was planning, he merely laughed at the comment his brother, Aiden, made about him pussying out on the day he’d ask you. Macklin waved him off, saying “How hard could it be?”
Well, it seemed to be the hardest thing in the world, actually.
He’s been pacing in his room; the box of donuts on his nightstand staring at him. Whenever he catches a glimpse of it he feels even more pathetic because his plan wasn't even elaborate.
He’d come across this one promposal video before of a guy using the jumbotron at a game to ask his date out, and he sort of loved the idea, but it made him cringe. Not because he found it weird, but because the spotlight that’d give would be enough to kill him, so as romantic as it was, he had to pass on it.
But now he’s having doubts about his own plan.
At first, Macklin liked it. Thought it was simple, sort of dorky, but maybe (hopefully) you’d find it cute. But maybe it was too simple. What if you thought it was stupid? What if you’ll be disappointed because you’d rather have someone ask you to prom on a jumbotron instead?
“No, deep breaths, Mack.” He spoke to himself. Inhaling, then letting out a big exhale as he walked over to the donuts.
He opened the box to reveal writing inside that said “I Donut want to go to prom with anyone else.” With the first 5 donuts on the top having icing which spelt “Prom?”
You loved donuts, he’s sure you’d have that in your top 10 list of things you couldn't live without, and that fact was a huge factor into this idea, but gosh—how is it that he’s only realizing how corny it is now?
It’s already too late, though. Tomorrow he’ll be on the road, but he’ll be back in time for prom. Today was his only chance at a promposal.
“Okay, you got this.” He spoke as he typed out a text.
Macklin: Hey U free to meet up?
You were not expecting to receive a text from Macklin at six o’clock in the evening at all.
You were friends, sure, but not close enough to expect sudden messages at night—especially ones asking to meet up.
You’d become acquainted when the seating arrangement for your maths class changed, and Macklin became your seatmate. Your math teacher loved partner work, so it was pretty easy becoming friends with him; laughing over mistakes you seriously shouldn't be making at this level, and bonding over your dislike for the subject (although you weren't actually bad and ended up carrying most of the partner activities).
But your friendship didn't just stay inside that one classroom, although that was the only class you shared. Whenever you’d pass by each other in the hallway, you’d wave. When he had a game, you’d message him good luck. He’d update you in between periods and you’d update him when you were on your Dunkin runs.
This random text still surprised you, though, because why would he want to meet? Let alone the night before he has a roadtrip?
You silenced your thoughts. It probably wasn't anything special, though you don't know what he could possibly tell you in real life that he can't through text. You’ve always wanted to be closer, anyway, and maybe this was your chance. So you reply,
You: Sure, where?
A wave of relief washed over Macklin when you finally replied. He could’ve swore his heart rate went up by one for every second you spent typing.
Macklin: Down for Dunkin rn?
Well this is weird, you thought. But when it came to donuts, you had the survival instincts of a rock.
You: Down for Dunkin at any time I fear Translation: yes pls
Macklin let out a chuckle at that, and he could feel his cheeks warm and face grow red.
Now he really needs you to say yes, because he has never been this down bad for anyone in his life.
——
When you arrive, he’s already there with a box of donuts on the table.
“Woah, sir, got hungry while waiting?” You spoke as you sat down in front of him and he laughed.
“No, I, uh… Actually—” His voice cracks, and he has to stop talking because everything he’s said so far has not matched with what he’s been rehearsing for the past week.
You smile when his voice cracks.
GodhelpmeI’mgonnadie, Macklin thinks.
He fumbles with the box, drawing a blank on what to say or do. It’s when a full minute of silence passes by that he gives up on trying to remember and just shows you upfront.
“So I’ve just completely forgotten what I was going to say,” he laughs awkwardly and you raise a brow, “but uh, basically…” He opens the box and watches as you read the message.
He looks away before he could see the smile growing on your face and starts to ramble. “I know it's stupid, I just—I didn't really know what to do so if you think it’s lame—”
“Lame?” You cut him off, and his gaze snaps back to you—you, who’s sitting there with the widest grin he’s ever seen on anybody, and he hopes you never stop smiling. “This is absolutely adorable, Mack.” You can’t hold back your giggles as you look at the box again.
Mack. You’ve never called him that before. It was always Macklin or Celly (which he loved hearing you say, but it reminded him too much of his teammates), so hearing you call him Mack now has his brain short circuiting.
Then you realize you let it slip, too. “Oh shit, can I call you that?”
“Yeah—yeah, absolutely,” He stammered. “You could call me anything and I wouldn't mind, honestly.”
That catches you off guard. You don't think you can handle another second of looking into his eyes, so you drop your gaze back down to the donuts, and your heart races even faster.
“Gosh this is… I love it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And to answer your question, yes, Mack, I’d love to go to prom with you.”
His heart flutters at the nickname again, and he sighs out of relief at your response. He had been so caught up in the nickname that he forgot you hadn't actually answered the question yet.
“I’m going to sound really stupid, but can I hug you? Please respond before I regret asking.” You giggle again and at this point your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but you can't not smile. This is too cute. He’s too cute.
“Of course.”
He gets up and you follow, and it’s a little awkward when he pulls you in, but the hug itself feels incredible. He’s so warm and so big and not to mention, smells insanely good. You think you could stay there forever, and you almost do with how long it takes for either of you to pull away.
You spend the rest of the time eating the donuts and talking about everything you could squeeze into a couple hours, and by the end, you really hope you aren't just imagining things, because you might have just fallen for Macklin Celebrini, and there’s no way you could get back up.
pairings — fraser minten, macklin celebrini, connor bedard, will smith, juraj slafkovsky, matthew schaefer, kaiden guhle x fem!reader┆彡 genres — fluff, mostly established relationships, friends to lovers and some angst in connors
warnings — reader can't speak slovak (slaf's part), reader is mentioned to drink (connor's part), a few swear words, reader calls guhle "baby" once
note — err i got carried away in some of these... (¯ ¯٥) but i tried to keep them as short as i could so pacing may feel off (as per usual). more notes at the end!
FRASER MINTEN
Long distance relationships were not for the weak.
You’ve been dating Fraser for three months now, and ever since you met in person for the first time, you don't know how you’ve been able to survive through FaceTimes and messages alone. The moment he left, you were already craving his touch.
Luckily, the Olympic break allowed you to spend some time together, albeit not much since he had to train and spend time with his family. But Fraser made sure the three days you’d spend together felt like three weeks.
Immediately on the first day, he suggests you two go out and explore your city a bit.
If you knew the amount of things Fraser would end up getting you, you probably would've brought a duffel bag.
First, you stopped by a flower shop, and you didn't need to tell him anything before he headed inside, hand remaining locked with yours. “Are your favorite flowers the same?”
You don't even remember telling him what they were, and your heart swells at the small detail he remembered. Unable to respond without sounding completely smitten, you just nod while beaming at him.
Next, you show him around a new bookstore, and you both end up shopping for a bit. Bookshopping with Fraser was always your favorite thing to do when you got to meet up, and you hate how you don't get to do it everyday. But you shake the thoughts out of your head, telling yourself to focus on the present and savor it.
Then, to your surprise, he leads you to a salon.
“Fraser, why’re we here..?” To that, he looks at you in surprise, like he can't believe you’re even asking in the first place.
“Didn't you say you had to get your nails done? I booked it for you and asked your friend for some help.”
You’ve been talking about how you kept forgetting to book your appointments and how your nails are long overdue for a change, but you weren't expecting him to book it himself. You’d expected reminders through text, but he…
Tears well in your eyes and Fraser is immediately wide-eyed, scared he did something wrong. “Was I not supposed to? I’m so sorry, I’ll cancel it—”
“No, no! It’s not that. This is just… you’re so thoughtful, Frase. Thank you.”
He let out a sigh of relief, and his usual smile returned to his face. “Okay, good, cause I was getting worried there. And this is really nothing, y/n. Trust me.”
You still couldn't wrap your head around it. You don't know if it was all just too sudden, if you felt undeserving, if it was a mix of both, or if it was something else. You just didn't understand.
“I really can't thank you enough, but I… why? Why’re you doing all of this?”
The same dumbfounded look on his face is back. “Because I love you? And you deserve this and more?”
Your eyes widen, realizing this is the first time he said it, but it looks like that’s lost on Fraser.
You’ve been meaning to tell him you love him for a while now, but refrained in fear it was too soon. And here he is, just casually dropping the bomb.
It finally dawns on Fraser when you don't reply and just stare in shock. “Wait, is that the first time I said that?”
You only nod, blinking a few more times to confirm you weren't paralyzed, even though it felt like you were.
“Oh yikes. I should've said it sooner, no?”
Then, as a smile spreads across your face, you start laughing. Here you were, overthinking whether to tell him you love him after every FaceTime, while he thought he already did say it, and is disappointed he didn't do it sooner.
“I love you so much, Fraser.”
MACKLIN CELEBRINI
You and Macklin both knew that the moment either of you would say those three words was a ticking time bomb. You were just waiting for the right moment.
Neither of you outwardly spoke about it, but you both had a way of silently communicating things, and somehow, it had turned into a competition to see who could say it first. But like good sports, you weren't just going to blurt it out to win. It had to be a special moment.
It was a little ridiculous, but all your dates recently have been spent at home, since whenever either of you would recommend going out, the idea would be shut down immediately.
“I know what you’re doing, y/n, and I’m not falling for that trap.”
“What’re you talking about? I just want to spend time with my boyfriend,” you replied, but the smirk on your face told a whole other story.
Unfortunately, your games were cut short, as it just so happened to be Macklin’s cousin’s wedding that weekend.
You’d spent the days leading up to it strategizing how you were going to say it, and you felt silly for doing so, but it was also just extremely fun.
When the day came, you felt confident in your plan. You don't know if Macklin had his own strategy and whether the level of his planning matched yours, but you were ready for whatever he was about to throw at you.
The wedding venue was gorgeous, and the perfect place for a first “I love you.” The foliage was stunning, and they designed the area with a beautiful mix of oranges and light blues.
Both the groom and the bride would say “I love you,” during their vows, and each time, you and Macklin shared a look. You'd have to clasp your hand around your mouth so tightly so as not to interrupt the ceremony with your laughter.
Later on, you were finally able to get Mack alone. You two explored the venue, and settled on a swing hanging from what looked to be an ancient tree.
Cicadas chirped alongside the faint music from inside, but louder than both was Macklin practically buzzing to say it.
It was sunset, and the sky had never looked prettier—all warm orange hues framing the view in front of you. The aisle was now empty, allowing you to fully appreciate the decor.
Swinging side by side with a gentle breeze and a calming orange sky, you fall into conversation. You talk about fond memories, and what you have envisioned for the future too. How you’d want your wedding to look.
Somewhere along the conversation, you both stop trying to win for a little while, getting lost in it. But you don’t miss the split second Macklin decides to let it out.
Just as he opened his mouth, you cut him off.
“Iloveyou!”
You said it so quickly it was almost unintelligible, but Macklin knew exactly what you said, and he’s never felt more betrayed than now.
Yep. Your great masterplan was to say it right before he was about to. Genius.
He groans, “Y/n that does not count!”
“Sure it does! We just had a heartfelt conversation in a beautiful venue, it can’t get any more romantic than that,” you said.
“Yeah but you cut me off! You noticed I was about to say it!”
“I don't know what you’re talking about, Celebrini. I just wanted to tell you that I love you,” the grin on your face only widens at how much effort he’s putting into trying not to smile right now, but it was tugging at his lips.
“Whatever. I love you too… I guess…” he said, trying to lace his voice with venom, but failing massively.
You got the first one, so he’ll just have to make sure he says it the most.
CONNOR BEDARD
Your head was spinning.
The music was too loud, your clothes felt too tight on you, it was sweaty and humid, and your head was spinning. But not because of the flashing lights or the drinks you downed, no—it was the sight of Connor and his ex talking, the smile on her face, and a smirk on his. It was the way she leaned closer and he didn't move back.
Right, you’re just friends. You feel stupid for thinking you and Connor would ever be anything more than that.
The tears pooling in your eyes forces you to look away and try to blink the tears back, but not before you see her grab his arm. You don't get to see Connor nervously pull away, pushing her a little with a stern look on his face, since you’re already on your way out.
You try to think about anything else, but your mind doesn't let you. Instead, it pulls memories of him—of all the moments that led you to thinking that maybe he liked you back.
The kiss you almost shared before someone called you, the flowers he randomly showed up with because they reminded him of you, the time he told you he felt safer with you than he did with anybody while you had him in your arms.
He was just being friendly.
The tension in the air whenever you’d lock eyes? All in your head. And the moments he’d glance down at your lips? Meant nothing at all.
At this point, tears are flowing down your face. Attempts to wipe them off do nothing as they just keep coming.
It’s not too long before you hear Connor call your name.
He regrets not noticing you leave sooner. He hated that—out of all people—it was his ex that distracted him. He didn't even want anything to do with her, and was frankly getting tired of hearing her agitating voice. When he looked around the room in hopes of finding you so you could both leave, you were nowhere to be seen.
You don't move, but you don't look back right away either. “Connor, please just leave me alone. I’ll Uber back home.”
You hate how you can't stop your lips from trembling. Connor doesn't miss the way your voice wavered.
“No, I’ll take you back—”
“Just go!” You turn around, but you can't see him clearly with all the tears in the way. You don't see the way his expression shifts, and the clear devastation in his eyes. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Connor. Go back in there, drink like hangovers don't exist, and dance with Darcy or whatever her name wa—”
“Wait—what? Darcy?”
“Darcy, Daisy—whatever. You guys were cute together anyway.”
Connor just stands there for a moment, and you’re about to turn away when he sighs.
“Y/n, how oblivious are you?”
Now it’s your turn to stand there stunned.
“...What?”
“Do you really not get it yet? After these past few months?”
“Connor, please just get to the poin—”
“I love you, y/n. You,” your eyes widen, and he takes your surprise as a chance to keep going. “I don't even know how long I’ve spent wanting you. I just know that every relationship I had never worked out because they could tell my heart was already set on someone else.”
As his words sink in, you pinch yourself just to make sure this wasn't a dream.
Connor sees the action and laughs, “This isn't a dream, y/n.”
He cups your tear-stained cheek, inching closer and closer before his lips are just inches away from yours. “Is this okay?”
You answer by closing the distance.
WILL SMITH
You always recorded your fit checks, either putting your phone on your desk, or holding it up as you pose in the mirror.
A few months into your relationship with Will, you started including him. It didn't happen often, though, since meeting up was hard with the distance between you two.
You were filming another fit check, when the door suddenly opened. You felt your heart drop for a split second before Will entered with a wide smile on his face.
“What the fuck—Will?” He giggled, and held his arms out, beckoning you into a hug. Despite your confusion, you didn't hesitate to walk over to hug him.
You were under the impression that he was supposed to be training right now and wouldn't be back until next week, but apparently Will Smith is a liar.
“What are you doing here? You’re not skipping training, are you…?” You squint your eyes at him, your hand now resting against his chest while he still has his arms around you.
He rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn't leave his face. “I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”
“Well I was scared shitless for a second there, but other than that, yeah,” you both laugh and he finally lets go of you, walking over to your full body mirror.
“Were you filming a fit check?” You nod, realizing you haven't stopped recording, and bring your phone back up as you stop beside him. “Let’s film one together.”
He hits a ridiculous pose, making you both laugh, before getting serious.
A few seconds later, he looks away from the mirror to face you, letting his eyes wander over you with a soft smile on his lips.
You hit a few poses, then lean your head in a little more before noticing he hasn't looked at the mirror since he looked away. There was something a little too soft in his gaze, and you got a bit embarrassed.
Flustered, you try to be a bit bold. “Aww, look at you,” you coo, “You look like you’re in love with me.”
“I am in love with you?” He was almost whispering when he said it, his soft voice tinged with a slight rasp beneath his Boston drawl.
Then his eyes widen almost immediately after, hands flying to cover his mouth.
You gasp before bursting out laughing, “He loves me!” you say to the camera as Will’s face turned even redder, backing out of the camera’s view.
“You got it on video too,” he covers his face and groans into his hands, but you could hear the smile in his voice. You keep laughing, panning the camera over to him.
He removes his hands and can't hold his laugh in. This definitely wasn't how he expected his first confession of love would go, but he can't really complain. Not when he gets to see you laugh like this.
That doesn't stop him from reaching over to try and cover the camera, though, and saying “Delete that!” as he chased you down around the house.
JURAJ SLAFKOVSKY
There were certain Slovak phrases Juraj refused to translate for you, no matter how much you begged for him to tell you what they meant. And it was driving you crazy because of how much he repeated them.
He always managed to slip them in. At first, you didn't pay too much attention to it, asking “What was that?” then letting it go when he refused to give you an answer. But then he kept doing it.
Studying? He’d sneak up and hug you from behind, press a kiss to the top of your head, then whisper something that definitely isn't English. Cuddling? The last thing you’d hear before drifting off is that phrase you couldn't quite make out again.
Most of the time, you wouldn't even be doing anything and Juraj would suddenly blurt it out. Like the time you were out late, driving around in his car and stopped by somewhere with a nice view. As you were gobbling your takeout down, he let out a small laugh before saying, “Milujem ťa.”
You looked up already feeling annoyed that he’d said one of the phrases again, but that annoyance faded when you saw just how good he looked at that moment, smiling at you like you were happiness itself.
You never became too familiar with a single phrase either, since he’d switch between them, but the ones you heard the most had an ‘L’ and ‘M’ sound in the beginning…or something.
You had started to accept that you’ll have to live forever not knowing what any of those phrases meant, until one particularly bad game. He came home after a tough loss feeling exhausted, but somehow, you were able to rejuvenate him.
You’d comforted him, had him join you in making dinner, and one messy, chaotic cooking session later, he forgot all about the game. No one has ever made him feel like that ever.
So as you both ate the dinner you cooked together, he finally translated it for you.
“Milujem ťa.”
“Juraj, wha—”
“—It means I love you.”
MATTHEW SCHAEFER
The first thing Matthew thinks of when he wakes up is, ‘Am I in heaven?’
Mostly because of the glaring sunlight slipping past the curtains, but also because the first thing he inhales is the scent of your shampoo, which is, well—heavenly.
Then he realizes that you’re right here, curled up beside him. He almost didn’t notice, with how perfectly snug you fit with him.
He doesn't know how long he spends just staring at you. A little creepy, maybe, but he physically couldn't tear his eyes off of you. Also, hey, you were his girlfriend!
The way the sunlight—although almost blinding—shone on your face was perfect, accentuating all your already perfect features. You really are the epitome of perfection, he thought.
This was the first time you’d stayed overnight, and his chest tightened at the thought of more mornings like this. Waking up to you in his arms, your scent on his sheets, trusting him enough to see you at your most vulnerable state.
He can't help but feel like the luckiest man alive.
You start to stir, but Matthew doesn't look away. Instead, he greets you with his insanely deep morning voice, “Good morning, beautiful.”
You open one eye first, eyes still feeling too heavy to open them both. “G’morning Matt… why’re you staring at me? Creep.”
He laughs, “Cause you’re perfect.”
You can’t roll your eyes yet, but if you could, you already would’ve. Matthew senses that and laughs even more.
“You would stare too if you had my view,” at that, the smile you were trying so hard to hold back, appears. You normally couldn't take compliments, but with him, you never felt like you had to question it. You just knew he meant them.
After bickering for a bit—with him being a big baby and not wanting to get up, and you already wanting to get the day started—you both finally make your way to the kitchen.
You worked in tandem, him in charge of the coffee, while you cooked eggs. After he loaded the coffee maker, he looked over to you, and the sight left him speechless.
His hoodie (which now belonged to you, at this point) engulfed you, and the sunlight once again caught you in the most perfect way—he was starting to believe the sun just had favorites, always angling to make you glow.
But it wasn't just the hoodie or the sun. It was the birds chirping, the pan sizzling, and the hand you had resting on your hip like you’ve done this a million times before and could do it a million times more. It all reminded him that you were his. The domesticity of it was messing with his brain, and he thinks: so long as you love him, the world can’t harm him.
Before he could realize, the words already slipped out of his mouth.
“God, I love you.”
You pause, looking at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape.
“I—I love you too?” He tilts his head, face dropping a little, and you scramble to correct your tone, “I mean—I really do! I love you, Matt. You just… caught me off guard there,” you awkwardly chuckle, and so does he.
“Sorry, I just… I don't know. I just oddly feel so loved right now,” your heart melts at his confession.
You quickly turn the stove off before anything can burn in the middle of the moment, and go to wrap your arms around him. He returns the hug, only tighter.
Yeah, he definitely could get used to this.
KAIDEN GUHLE
You loved music festivals.
You loved the easygoing atmosphere during the day, the energy at night that’s capable of birthing alter egos, and losing yourself in the music—swaying or jumping to the beat with a drink in hand.
But you especially loved it, because that’s how you met Kaiden. His pretty face caught your eye among the sea of people, and just as the artist started singing a slower, romantic song, he turned around and met your gaze. You both swear it was fate.
Since then, music festivals have become a staple in your relationship…and the setting of an event that he swore was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him.
It was late, and the energy was at its peak. The band was performing their last song of the night, and everyone—including yourself—was singing their hearts out. The lights flared out into the sky, fireworks were coming out, and all you could hear was the instruments and the singer’s voice, which was almost drowned out by the crowd.
You turn to Kaiden as the song nears its end, looking to admire the side of his face and the way the lights reflected in his eyes, but he was already looking at you. Your heart races even faster.
Everyone around you is jumping, except for Kaiden. So you grab his arms and try to pull him into it with you. He shakes his head, but a smile spreads across his face and he jumps anyway. Then he starts saying something, but you can’t hear him over the blaring drums and people yelling.
“What was that!?” You yell, still jumping to the song while he already stopped. Being super close to the stage was not helping (with both the situation at hand, and your ears).
He says it again, but you still can’t hear. He looks like he’s saying “Olive Juice,” but you’re hearing something closer to “Aloe Vera.”
“I still can’t hear you!” You lean in closer, and he mirrors you, but you recognize that the song was right about to end.
Aaand right as it stops…
“I LOVE YOU!”
…Kaiden already yelled it out, and you couldn’t stop it from happening.
Immediately, people started laughing, and even the band heard it.
“Woah, buddy! Hasn’t even been a minute since it ended, but we love you too!”
The crowd erupts into louder laughter as Kaiden buries his face in your neck, trying to hide, but it was already too late and numerous eyes were on you. The embarrassment tinted your ears red, but it was Kaiden’s words that spread warmth throughout your chest.
“Baby, look up—” you start, but he just shakes his head against your neck, refusing. His ears were unimaginably red, and you truly felt sorry for him—you really did—but you also couldn’t stop laughing.
Eventually, the laughter around you starts fading, and Kaiden finally lifts his head up. He still looks mortified, but the second your eyes meet, and he sees the smile on your face, he eases up.
Kaiden still doesn’t know how you do that—look at him and calm him down instantly—but somehow, you just can.
First “I love you”’s are always memorable, but this one definitely takes the cake.
note — if the smitty one felt familiar, it's cs i based it off a tiktok i saw! i thought it was so adorable and i've always wanted to write smthng based off it :] anyway, this was super fun to write although i had a writers block before i started writing this 😭 + my faves have to be schaefer's and guhle's! quite proud of the schaef one☝️ which also made me realize i wanna write more for him wth. least fav might be macks im sorry mack lovers i lowk was not feeling the premise but i wanted to include mack. next to macks would be wills, but i acc liked the idea i js couldnt pull it off LOL
divider credits — @/cursed-carmine and @/strangergraphics
HELLOOO UR MACKLIN FIC IS AGHHHHHH SO GOOD IT MADE ME SCREAM AND GO SPEECHLESS AT THE SAME TIME 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻 reader in that fic is so strong and like cooler than me bc if i were her i would lowk just avoid going to that dinner AT ALL ( avoidant ass ) im cheering her on now like yes girl u dont need him rn 👋🏻 just take time and find ur own self first
OHMYGOSH THANKYOU SM!!! im so happy it was able to induce that reaction out of u HELP
and same 😭 im such an avoidant ass too but i love making my y/n's take leaps i would be too scared to make irl!!! dw nonnie eventually we'll be as cool as reader 🤞🤞
pairing: childhood bsf!m. celebrini x childhood bsf!reader
genre: some fluff, mostly angst, childhood bsf to lovers to uuhhhhh...... | wc: 3.8k
synopsis: macklin celebrini was the last person you thought you'd lose, but one sudden break-up message later, and he's tilted your world off its axis.
warnings: one usage of an epithet HELP, barely any dialogue till the second half, use of y/n, swearing, one kiss (painfully vague/brief), Angsty with a capital A!!, pretty exposition-y lowk, bittersweet ending, this could either be from last offseason or this offseason - its up to u when u want it to be set, confrontation scene, parents and uncle of reader r mentioned, mention of entire celebrini fam; reader calls charlie (macks younger sister) cutie but not in a weird way, js as a term of endearment
A/N: alas my fave fic !! i hope theres smn out there who enjoys this as much as i loved writing it. this definitely could've been longer, or shorter, and theres smthng abt the pacing im not quite a big fan of, but editing is not my forte, and it's already written so what's done is done. i actually have a lot of fics with similar concepts but i hardly ever end up finishing them. this may be the only one that sees the light of day heh.. anyways, i rlly like how i made the cover (?) !! #graphicdesignismypassion
divider credits: @uzmacchiato
Macklin Celebrini, since the day you were born, was a constant in your life.
Growing up, you did everything together. Until he had to move to the States after his dad landed a job with the Warriors, you hadn’t known what life was like without him. It was like he was part of the package deal of life.
Even when he moved, you kept in touch. Almost daily video calls, text exchanges that dared the time difference to get in between the both of you—with him in California and you back in Vancouver. And it hurt not having him there physically, but it never really felt like he left.
Eventually, you moved to Boston for college, and while you had plenty of other reasons for choosing Boston University, there was no hiding that the main reason was Macklin, because of course it was.
Your families joked about the two of you getting married one day, and as kids you embraced it, but then you became a tween and entered that awkward phase, denying any possibility of ever having romantic feelings for the brown-haired boy.
It wasn't until you were almost 15 that you started to realize you were in love with him.
Your friends started dating, and you decided: why not? You didn't like anyone right now, because you totally didn't harbor any romantic feelings for your best friend, so what’s the harm in trying?
I guess the harm was finding that you’d nitpick every single one of your date’s details, comparing them to Macklin’s.
You had decided to ask Peter, who apparently has liked you for a while, to hang out. Not exactly a date—you decided the wording felt weird—but sort of implied to be one. I mean what else would you call it when it’s just the two of you out?
But you didn't make it very far into the date before you started comparing him to Macklin. You hadn't meant to—it was more…subconscious. Like you couldn't help but compare.
He had a nice smile, but it didn't make you feel what you felt whenever Macklin flashed you his gummy one. His hair didn't annoyingly get in the way of his face like Mack’s, and he just didn't sound alive when he spoke. Not the way Mack does.
He asked you which drink you wanted to get but Macklin would've already known, and while you didn't expect Peter to know everything about you from the get-go, you liked that Mack knew so much about you.
And that’s when you started to question your feelings. Because why was a small detail like not knowing your favorite drink such a big deal to you?
Then you realized—maybe it wasn't about how his hair wasn't “flow-y,” or that he was too robotic, or that his smile wasn't cute enough, or that his eyes weren't as green as Mack’s, or that he didn't know your favorite damn drink. Maybe it’s because he just wasn't Mack.
Your Macklin, whose eyes could rival the most beautiful emerald, who knew your deepest darkest secrets, and shared his with yours. Who argued that he wasn't that sleepy over the phone, even when it sounded like he was five blinks away from knocking out, just so he could hear your voice. Your Macklin, who always stayed yours, even throughout his hockey career, your academics, and the hundreds of miles between you two.
Nobody was surprised you started dating once you moved to Boston. It wasn't a matter of if, it’d always been a matter of when. And it finally happened two months into your college life.
After two full months of hugs that lingered for a little too long (yet never felt long enough), forehead kisses that you both swore meant nothing, laying your heads on each other’s laps, and nights spent that were supposed to be dedicated to studying, but always ended up in you cuddling and saying things that hung in the air long after it’d been said, you finally got together.
It wasn't a formal confession. It wasn't a dramatic, angry one, done under the rain. It was just like any other night—in your dorm, with a forgotten movie in the background, and Macklin beside you. You don't know what was in the air that day, but the tension was thick from the moment he entered your room.
You don't know how you ended up just staring at each other, but you’ll never forget the way he slowly inched closer before asking, “Can I… kiss you?”
You felt so many emotions at once, and couldn't even get a proper reply out before impatiently closing the distance between you. All you could think of was finally. Finally finally finally.
You never wanted to pull away. You never wanted to stop kissing him—you just wanted to freeze the moment and replay it over and over again, but you couldn't.
Now, though, you’re grateful, because you would’ve never gotten to experience all the other precious memories you went on to share with him.
Which is exactly why you didn't understand why this was happening now. How, after everything together, was your relationship in jeopardy?
You were incredibly proud of Mack for getting drafted, and on that night, he promised you he wouldn't let it get in the way of your relationship.
“I can't promise it’ll be easy, but I swear, at the end of the day you’ll still have me. And if you let me, I’ll still have you. I want you to always remember that no matter what I say, I need you.” He spoke with his palm on your cheek, stroking his thumb gently like he wanted you to feel his sincerity.
“Of course, Mackie. You’ll never lose me.”
And yet here you are. Shut out—and you don't have a single clue as to why.
The first season was rough, yes, but you tried to show up for him the best way you could. If you felt like he needed space, you’d give it. And if you felt like the world was on his shoulders and needed someone to carry part of that weight? You didn't hesitate to take it for him.
But now he hardly replies.
You knew that staying at BU would strain the relationship somewhat. But the time difference wasn't crazy, and it wasn't anything new. You’d gone through this before—what would be so different now?
Apparently, everything.
You’d been able to get through the first season, but after that…radio silence.
You couldn't bear to look at your messages, knowing he didn't even bother to open them while you saw pictures of him enjoying his offseason.
Were you the problem? Had he just randomly decided he no longer needs you, and silently bid you farewell?
You felt like absolute shit every day. You barely got any sleep, and when you were supposed to be finishing up essays, you were crying instead.
You knew you’d be facing him eventually, with your Spring break coming up, you’ll be heading back to Vancouver, and so would he. But right now, you couldn't find the strength in you to confront him.
You never really knew what life was like without him, after all. And the idea that he’d just remove himself from it completely crushed you more than you wanted to admit—but everyone around you understood the magnitude of it.
Suddenly, after days of absolutely nothing, you finally get a text. But it’s not like one you were expecting.
loml <3 : Hey y/n. I don't know how to go about this, but idk if we should continue dating. I still love and appreciate u as a friend, but now I’m realizing there’s just some stuff I have to let go of in this career. Ure amazing, but dating just isn't something I can commit to right now. Hope u understand.
And just like that, your entire world shatters.
Who knew it could take just one message for Macklin Celebrini to absolutely destroy you?
You don't reply; you can't find it in you to. You let minutes turn into hours, and hours into days, until suddenly it’s been a week since he’s broken up with you and you’ll be seeing him in person tomorrow.
Great, just absolutely great.
You’ve been running a million scenarios through your head since about two days ago when your sense of time came back and you realized you’ll be back in Vancouver soon. What do you say? What do you do? Do you ignore him, hide from him, yell at him, throw rocks at his face?
Scrap that. You don't know if you’re capable of aggression. Not when you’ve cried your body to exhaustion.
You amplify the pain by rereading your old messages, repeatedly asking yourself where it went wrong, but you never end up finding an answer, so it only makes you feel worse.
You walk by places you used to call your spot, you catch a whiff of someone's perfume that eerily smells like his, his hoodies still hang in your closet, his razor remains on your bathroom table from the last time he visited, and when you turn your TV on, the universe decides it's funny to have his face be the first thing you see.
No matter what you do or where you turn—you are constantly haunted by the ghost of him.
You never felt like you had to be prepared for a day without Macklin, and it’s only now when you realize how much of your life is him.
You only dread your return to Vancouver even more.
You never missed Vancouver’s rain, but now it gave you some comfort, because it felt like nature was reflecting your current emotions. In a way, you felt seen.
But also, still very miserable.
Your puffy eyes don't go unnoticed by your parents, but you refuse to tell them the truth. You tell them it was just school, but nobody buys it. It sounded like you wished it was school, but nobody pushed—they already had a pretty good idea on what the real reason was the moment you lied.
Being back and surrounded by your family who were eager to depuff your eyes felt good, but if BU’s campus was a landmine, Vancouver was worse.
Your room alone was home to many special moments, and it took everything in you not to sob every night as you laid in bed, trying not to remember, but you remember everything.
Like the time he surprised you by visiting after telling you he couldn't make the last flight back and had to wait three more days for another flight.
You’d been sulking in your room the entire day when he came barging in with a wide smile on his face.
“Surprise!” He yelled, giggling when you were speechless.
You jumped up from your bed and almost tackled him with how hard you hugged him.
“I thought you couldn't come until the 16th! Why’d you lie? I hate you,” his giggles only intensified as you tried to act mad, even when your grin was a dead giveaway.
“No you don't. You love me,” before you can reply, he adds—“and I love you too, by the way.”
Now tears are flowing down your face again as your nose begins to clog, and you know that by the time you wake up, your eyes will look exactly like they did when you arrived.
“Y/n?” Your uncle calls from outside your door.
“Yeah? Come in,” he opens it, and you swear you feel the air shift.
“We’ll be…uh…having dinner over at the Celebrini’s tonight,” he says carefully, and the fact that he even has to be careful almost brings you closer to tears than what he actually said.
You sit at your bed looking a little more dumbfounded than you’d like. You knew this would happen eventually, but you’re far from ready.
“Alright, thanks for letting me know,” you flash him a weak smile before he leaves.
You still have no idea what to do when you see him. If the memories are enough to turn you into a sobbing mess, how much more would actually, really seeing him hurt?
You don't know if you want to know the answer to that. But you don't want to be a no-show. You so desperately want to be strong, even if you haven't been.
You dress well, and in the coming hours, try to act like everything is fine, when in reality, you’re still scrambling to think of what to say.
When you're at the door, your heart’s racing so much you’re scared you might actually faint. Sweat pools at your palm, hands shaking so badly you have to have a deathly grip on your jeans to calm them down.
The door swings open and Rick welcomes your family in.
This is it.
You head inside, being the last to actually step in. You’re less concerned with how you currently look and more concerned with keeping yourself alive. Deep breaths, you repeat.
Instantly, memories flood you. First, you’re in the living room. The place you spent an ungodly amount of time in arranging your hockey card binder, watching TV during sleepovers with Mack, Aiden, and Charlie, and just being absolute ratchets, adding onto Rick and Robyn’s troubles.
Now, you don't even know if you still belong.
After this room, you know you’ll be in the dining area, and your heart rate spikes, because you know he’ll be there. Everyone will be there.
You hear plates clunking and RJ’s voice before you’re inside, and one step later, the lighting is brighter, and everyone’s in front of you.
Don’t look at him.
You’ve been repeating that in your head like a mantra since you were on your way, and you’re trying so so hard to keep your eyes on Rick, on the floor—on anything that isn't him—but your eyes betray you.
Looking up from the ground, you bring your eyes to Macklin, and there he is. Looking at you like he was…okay. Like you were the only one affected.
God, you want to cry again.
Before that could happen, you tear your eyes away from him just as Charlie rushes towards you, “y/n! I missed you so much more than Mack!”
Even hearing his name cracks your heart a little, but you return Charlie’s bone-crushing hug, because admittedly, you missed her too.
“Hey cutie, I missed you too,” you squeeze out. It’s either she doesn't know what happened between you and Mack, or she’s just a lot more enthusiastic to see you.
When she lets go and happily takes the seat beside you, you don't look at Macklin for the rest of the night, and you silently thank Charlie for keeping you occupied.
Early on, you pick up that Mack’s parents and Aiden know about what happened. They ask you about how school has been, you give them generic answers, then the conversation moves on. Never anything about you and Mack. You feel like you can make it through the night until RJ and Charlie leave and it’s silent. Tension simmers as you scrape at your plate even when it’s already wiped clean. You almost find a way to escape when your worst nightmare comes true.
“Y/n.”
You still. You haven't actually heard him say your name in a long time.
You feel tears immediately pool, but you blink them away with your head hung low.
“Excuse me.” You get out of your seat, speed walking to the door. You hear one of your relatives call you, but you’re already out.
Unfortunately, another voice follows, and it’s not one you want to hear.
“Y/n!” Macklin calls again but you don't stop walking, hoping he gets the memo and just leaves, but no, he starts jogging.
He catches up in no time, grabbing your wrist. “Can we please talk?”
You don't want to turn, not when you’ve fought all night to keep the tears in, but you do. You do because just as much as it hurts, you need to look at him. To see his eyes, his hair you so desperately wanted to run your fingers through, and his rosacea, so familiar across his face.
Your tears spill immediately, because how could he?
How could this boy you loved so dearly, who you thought loved you too, just do that? Just break up over text, and then still look this fucking good?
It looked like he lost no sleep. Like he hadn't spent a single second worried about you—like he had no tears to waste on you.
“What do you want me to say?” You speak through sobs, and by instinct his hands move up to cup your cheeks but you push him away.
You want to laugh at how stunned he looks.
“I—I don't know? Anything? You left me on read and haven't even spared me a fucking glance—”
“Why the hell would you think I want to look at you right now?” You almost yell, but for the sake of his neighbors, you control your volume.
“Do you really not know how badly your message affected me, Macklin? Can't you see it? You broke up with me over a fucking text and expect me to be A-okay?” he opens his mouth but you beat him to it, “Well guess fucking what. I’m not! I—these past few days I’ve realized… I don't actually know how to be myself without you. And I don't know how to feel about that.”
His grip on your wrist weakens, and you shake your arm out of it, but when he doesn't speak, you keep going. “I love you so much, Mack. So much that I feel like I’ve lost something I was never meant to lose, and I’ve been dealing with that grief ever since. You’re everywhere, and in everything and—and I don't know how I’m just supposed to move on.”
You continue sobbing, swiping tears away but it’s no use. Not when your entire face is basically covered in tears.
He’s silent, and for a while the only sounds are the cicadas, the faint sound of some neighbor’s TV, and your sobs, but then he finally speaks.
“I… I truly didn't think it’d hurt you this much, y/n. I’m so sorry.”
He looks at you expectantly, awaiting your reply, but when it doesn't come, he continues. “There were just times when I felt like I was a burden to you. Like my career wasn't solely affecting me anymore, it was affecting you too. Then… I don't know.
“Somewhere along the line, it became ‘hockey or you?’ and I couldn't sacrifice my career. I just—I just couldn't, y/n. And knowing you, I thought you would read into my mind and see that,” he scrunches his face, “fuck—saying that out loud now just makes me sound really fucking stupid.”
“Yeah, cause you are,” he smiles at that, whispering ‘I know’ in reply.
“I really just can't believe how stupid I was being. I didn't think it through at all and I can't apologize enough for putting you through that. You didn’t deserve the way I handled it. Not even close.”
He sighs, opening his mouth then closing it, hesitating over and over before finally saying it.
“Can… can we start again?” his voice wavers, “I know I fucked up. Like, really fucking badly, and while I can't promise I won't make more mistakes, I promise you I won't make another detrimental decision without even thinking it through.”
You almost smile, but fragments of the broken promise he made flash through your mind.
I can't promise it’ll be easy, but I swear, at the end of the day you’ll still have me.
But for days, you didn't.
You sigh and look away; the weight his gaze carried was becoming unbearable.
“You know, I think I’m really starting to see what the past few weeks have taught me,” you furrow your brows, still looking for the right words to use, “and it’s that…if I don't have an identity without you, can I go back to living with you pretending like I do?”
Mack takes the time to let your words fully sink.
“I love you, Mack. But I don’t think I can jump straight back into this when I still have shit to sort,” he nods, and you let your hands find his, “and to be honest, I think you still have shit to sort too.”
He chuckles, “Oh yeah, I know. No normal person just breaks up with the love of their life on a random ass Tuesday afternoon.”
That gets a laugh out of you as you shake your head, “It’s not just that. You shouldn't feel guilty for sharing your burdens—especially with me. Stop trusting everything your brain tells you, because I love being there for you. I love showing up and being the place where you feel safe enough to show weakness.”
He just stares at you for a while, a little speechless, but then he pulls you into a hug. “I love you so fucking much.” Then he pulls away, looking at you like he could say a million things, but opts to kiss your nose instead.
“This isn't me trying to rush you back into dating me. I think you’re incredibly right and we need some time away from each other to work through our own problems, but I really am just insanely in love with you, and there's no one else I’d rather spend my life with.”
At this point, your tears have already dried up, and are no longer coming in. If any do, then they’re far from being sad tears.
You know that for a while it won't be the same, but you also know something that will—no matter how much changes between the both of you—and that’s your love. So you don't hesitate to reply with, “I, too, am insanely in love with you, Macklin Celebrini.”
He hugs you again and presses a kiss to the top of your head before insisting on walking you back home.
Neither of you spoke during the walk back, but you appreciated the silence. He respected where you two were currently at, instead of trying to force the relationship to go back immediately to the way it was.
Once you make it, he stays at the sidewalk while you go up the porch. Turning back around, you see him looking at you with that smile on his face—the one you used to build your whole world around, and you couldn't help but smile too, because this is the boy you’ve known and loved your whole life—but something was different now.
Macklin Celebrini, since the day you were born, was a constant in your life.
But now, for the first time…he wasn't the only thing that defined it.
i have to stop writing at like the wee hours of dawn bcs im so sleepy but im reaching flow state but the habs game is in *checks watch* around 4 hours so if i dont get my ass to bed this instance ill probably miss a portion of it WHICH I CANT AFFORD TO!!!! but also i have to seize this moment.
synopsis: fraser goes to buy a book for his grandpa, a regular at your aunts bookshop, and meets you.
warnings: proofread but also its 6am and i havent slept so probably doesn't seem like it is, i use chuckle 3 times (yes this is a warning bcs i hate using that word.), i think thats it
A/N: i hate this so bad this might be the worst fic ive written recently 😭 i js rlly wanted to put smthng out for him tho bcs hes been plaguing my mind. like i've genuinely been fixating on the two facts that he reads and can play the piano,, which i might try to write smthng abt soon since i happen to play the keyboard. im js very minty pilled rn 💔
Mornings at the bookshop are usually slow, but it’s never been this slow.
It’s been three hours since you opened up the shop and no one has come in. The only human interaction you've had so far is with the jogger who always nods at you as she passes by—but you aren't complaining. So far you’re halfway through the book you just started. It’s one you’ve been meaning to read, so you’re thankful you didn't have to be interrupted.
Still, you’re surprised. The weather is actually nice today: the usual Vancouver rain is replaced with a sunnier sky and soft drizzles. Summer is setting in, and it’s clear from the warmth around you, so you’d expect to see more people passing by or browsing through. So far though, crickets (or more accurately, birds chirping).
You decide no one’s coming in anytime soon—and that’s when you make the mistake of letting your guard down, becoming completely immersed in your book.
Which would’ve been fine… if you didn’t miss the customer who awkwardly clears his throat to get your attention.
You look up—and the moment you lay eyes on him, you swear your heart skips a beat.
Tall frame, curly brown hair, glasses slightly slipping down his nose, and an awkward, but cute smile adorning his features.
The feeling you get is almost enough to override your embarrassment. Almost.
You close your book immediately, not even bothering to check the page. “I am so sorry! I seriously did not hear you come in,” you say, scrambling to stand up. And because you’re convinced he’s the prettiest guy you’ve ever seen, you keep going like a nervous wreck, “I just got really—uh… it was really… interesting…”
Your voice wavers as you continue, only realizing you should’ve stopped talking ten words ago.
He chuckles, and you swear you’re about to enter cardiac arrest.
“You’re good, I totally get it,” he says around a laugh, and you feel yourself relax a little, letting out an awkward laugh of your own.
“So, are you looking for something specific?” you ask, pulling yourself together just enough not to stutter.
“Yeah! I’m looking for ‘The Gambler’ by Dostoevsky.”
The title rings a bell, and you realize you were talking about it with one of your regulars the other day.
“Cool! I was actually talking to another customer about it the other day. He might get a little upset when he comes back, though—we only have one copy.”
He chuckles. “I think you might be talking about my grandpa.”
You blink once, twice, then the resemblance hits you. “No way—you’re gramps’ grandson? How come I never see you?”
“I’m not around a lot… He was supposed to come today, actually, but I told him to stay in in case it rained. Pretty stupid, considering it’s been sunny all day.”
“Yeah…” And you think you know the reason for that.
Once he pays for the book, you expect him to leave right away, but he lingers, running his free hand through his hair like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.
“So, uh… you’re here every day?” he says.
“Only when my aunt needs me, but I’m usually working on weekends.”
He stays silent for a while, and you feel like if you have to hold eye contact any longer, you might actually implode. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you…” he trails off.
“Y/n,” you fill in, “and likewise…”
“Fraser.”
You smile, and then he leaves—as if he had to see you smile before he could go.
When Fraser makes it back to his house, he doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until he sees his grandpa looking at him with a knowing grin.
“What?” Fraser asks, quite literally unable to stop smiling.
“Took you awfully long to buy one book. Were you browsing or caught up in someone else?”
His grandpa laughs as warmth spreads across Fraser’s face.
“Stop it,” Fraser mutters, but he really just can’t seem to get rid of his smile, or the red tinting his ears that are totally ratting him out.
—
The next day, it’s less sunny, and you tell yourself it’s because Fraser isn’t here.
You’d be lying if you said you weren't keeping a close lookout in case he came back. You can’t focus on reading anymore, so you settle for people-watching instead, trying to guess what their lives are like from a single glance.
Your eyes land on a tall guy—hoodie on with his cap hanging low. He looks weirdly familiar, but his head is down and you just can’t quite place it…
He’s probably a musician in the middle of writing an album after a breakup, and—
Oh wait. He’s coming this way.
The mystery guy opens the door and lifts his head up, then your eyes widen when you see who it is.
“Fraser!”
You try and fail miserably to hide how happy you are to see him again, and either he doesn't mind or he doesn't notice.
“Hey, y/n,” he says with a smile, and you want to burn the sight into your eyeballs. He isn’t wearing his glasses and he removes his hat to turn it backwards. This version of him feels less nerdy, but you can't complain. Not when he’s looking at you like that.
“Are you done with your book, or did you just not feel like getting immersed today?” he teases, making you groan into your hands.
“Please never bring that up again,” you only get more embarrassed when you think of all the possible facial expressions he saw you make when you thought no one was looking.
He continues to laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
You almost get stuck staring at his stupidly pretty face before snapping out of it. “So, do you have a specific book in mind, or did you just come here to make fun of me?”
He chuckles. “I just wanted to look around. See if anything catches my eye before I leave Vancouver again.”
Oh.
You try your hardest not to feel your stomach drop after hearing that—you can't be getting this sad over a boy-you-hardly-know’s departure—and yet…
“Oh, alright! Hope you find something,” you try not to let the disappointment show, but it likely slips through. If he was listening close enough, he could probably hear your voice wobble (and your heart shatter, but whatever).
He doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t show it, as he just nods with that smile still on his face before walking away.
You try to look busy by picking up a book, but the words don't register in your head. It doesn't help that no one is coming in, either. Your eyes just keep drifting off to Fraser.
Sometimes, you look up—and he’s already looking at you.
Sometimes you look away, flustered, but sometimes you don't—and neither of you look away, to which he’d give you a small smile before returning his gaze to the books.
God, what is his problem? You feel like collapsing every time it happens.
After what feels like five decades (it’s only actually twenty minutes), he comes back, holding four books.
You put them in a paper bag and give him his change, but again, he lingers.
“So… uh,” he starts, shifting slightly, “I’ll be going back to Boston, where I currently stay, and I was wondering if maybe… I could get your number?”
Before you respond, he rushes to add, “We could just talk about books or something! I—I don't know. I just… I’d really like to stay in touch, if that’s okay.”
You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d love to stay in touch, Fraser.”
He lets out a relieved sigh and you both exchange numbers. After a bit more chatting—with you staring, getting lost in his pretty face, and him trying to regain his composure—he leaves. But you don't get to feel his absence for too long before he sends you a message.
Fraser: Thanks for the books! I found a new favorite place in Vancouver. And person. :)
You try to ignore all the butterflies in your stomach as you hurriedly type out a reply, but the butterflies win.
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
janainaart
yousharknotpass
