[linaaawrites]

would you ever do some nhl smau? i know that´s probably a lot of work, but i feel like you could come up with something cool (i totally get if you don´t want to)

i dont know if this is "cool" but i had a lot of fun doing this. also please excuse any wrong user names.

Best Friends or Dating?

pairing: Macklin Celebrini x bestfriend!reader

description: Mack and you are "best friends or dating" final boss.

liked by youruser, _willsmith2, sanjosesharks, _connorbedard and 384,927 others

mackcelebrini much needed vacation

View all 41,381 comments

random SLIDE THREE???

random the hand placement is SENDING ME

random bro said "instagram isn't seeing all that"

random protective best friend is crazy 😭

random if my best friend did that we'd be married

random why are they always attached at the hip

random the headphone picture??? that's literally a couple photo

youruser thank you for protecting my dignity

mackcelebrini someone had to

youruser gentleman

mackcelebrini for you? always

random I´M DEAD

_willsmith2 boyfriend behavior

mackcelebrini wrong

random WILL SAID WHAT WE WERE ALL THINKING

_connorbedard i genuinely forgot you guys claim to be friends

youruser because we are??

_connorbedard sure

random EVEN CONNOR DOESN'T BUY IT

random the dog probably got less attention than she did 😭

aiden_celebrini can you two be normal once

mackcelebrini never been our thing

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, connorbedard, fraserminten and 11,208 others

youruser captain, co-captain & professional passenger princess 🚤🌼

View all 1112 comments

random THAT FLOWER ON HIS ARM 😭

random why does she decorate him like a house plant

random that's husband behavior i'm sorry

random slide four belongs on pinterest

random this is literally a honeymoon photo dump

mackcelebrini the flower survived longer than expected

youruser unlike someone driving the boat

mackcelebrini we made it didn't we?

youruser barely

random THEIR BANTER IS SO NATURAL

random they're literally flirting

random "best friends" my ass

_willsmith2 blink twice if you're secretly dating

mackcelebrini 😐

youruser 😐

random THEY ANSWERED AT THE SAME TIME

_connorbedard identical responses is somehow worse

graceccsmith every time you two post my blood pressure rises

liked by youruser, _connorbedard, _willsmith2, aiden_celebrini and 347,320 others

mackcelebrini off day

View all 31,204 comments

random HOLD ON

random "my girlfriend is hotter than yours" hello?

random EXCUSE ME???

random MACKLIN YOU DON'T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND???

random explain slide two immediately

_connorbedard thought you were single bro.

mackcelebrini i am

_connorbedard then why are you advertising

random LMAOOOO

random slide three 😭

random matching headbands and skincare night???

youruser his idea btw.

mackcelebrini self care matters

random THAT IS SO BOYFRIEND

_willsmith2 you guys share a skincare routine but not a relationship?

mackcelebrini correct

_willsmith2 fascinating

random THIS IS INSANE

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, _connorbedard, graceccsmith and 12,134 others

youruser :)

View all 1,591 comments

random IS THAT MACK'S HAT

random SHE STOLE HIS CAP

random THE SHIRT???

random "I LOVE HOCKEY BOYS" girl me too

random IS THIS A RESPONSE TO HIS POST

random THESE TWO ARE INSUFFERABLE

gabeperreault44 hockey boys appreciate the support

ryan.leno_4 huge fan of slide two

jameshagens_4 anwer your dm

mackcelebrini alright relax

mackcelebrini no one is sliding into anyones dms here

random OOOOOH

random POSSESSIVE MACK???

jameshagens_4 damn okay

ryan.leno_4 jealous?

mackcelebrini no

mackcelebrini selective

random SELECTIVE???

random BRO DIDN'T EVEN DENY IT

_connorbedard this comment section is my favorite reality show

random WHO SENT THE FLOWERS

random MACK WAS THAT YOU

youruser maybe.

mackcelebrini who knows

random THEY ARE SO ANNOYING 😭

random just date already PLEASE

graceccsmith i'm tired

liked by mackcelebrini, sanjosesharks, _willsmith2, graceccsmith and 13,744 others

youruser weekend away

View all 2,491 comments

random JUST FRIEND YOU SAY???

random YOU SLEEP WHILE CUDDLING???

random THAT'S YOUR BEST FRIEND???

random THE NAIL PAINTING???

random SHARK ONESIES???

random WHAT IS GOING ON

mackcelebrini i did a pretty good job on the nails

youruser you actually did 🥹

mackcelebrini thank you

random HE'S PROUD 😭

random this man paints her nails???

_willsmith2 i've seen married couples do less

gabeperreault44 genuinely asking...

gabeperreault44 what part of this is friendship?

youruser all of it?

_connorbedard i'm starting a fundraiser for these two

random FOR WHAT

_connorbedard matching prescription glasses

random 😭😭😭

random THEY'RE BLIND

aiden_celebrini i've given up trying to explain this to people

mackcelebrini same

aiden_celebrini no you haven't

aiden_celebrini you still introduce her as "my best friend" like we don't have eyes

random AIDEN😭

random EVEN HIS BROTHER

random every single person around them knows except them

random "just friends" meanwhile he's painting her nails, covering her bikini, cuddling in the car and wearing matching shark onesies

random i've never rooted harder for two oblivious people

random best friends to lovers speedrun but they're stuck on the tutorial

mackcelebrini we're literally just friends

youruser exactly!!

random nobody believes them anymore 😭

[abbydianereads]

Mostly In One Piece

prompt: After news breaks of Connor's injury while training in Vancouver, you book the next flight out, functioning on pure panic and adrenaline until you know that he's alright.

pairing: Connor Bedard x gf!reader

content: injury talk, cursing, angst, fluff

wc: 1.7k

a/n: idk if y'all have been as stressed about his injury as I have, but this story was born from that stress LOL. fingers crossed he's doing okay.

Summers were no longer your favorite season. When you were younger, it meant the absence of school, playing outside till the street lamps turned on, having slumber parties with your friends on weeknights. Now it meant your boyfriend's yearly trip back to his hometown of Vancouver, where he trained for the offseason. 

When you and Connor had begun dating, it was during his rookie year with the Blackhawks. You were in your freshman year at DePaul University when you stumbled into him–literally–while out for a morning jog. The rest was history. The first time he flew back to Vancouver for the offseason, you waved goodbye at the airport, doing your best to keep the tears at bay. At least, until he had rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Then, you let them slip silently down your cheeks, because he was going to be gone for three and a half months before returning for training camps in September. 

You’d never been in a long distance relationship before, and you had to admit it might have been one of the hardest things you’d ever done. The time differences paired with the thousands of miles between you was enough to make any couple split. But the two of you? You made it work. 

Now, you were on your third summer of long distance with Connor. It sucked.

You hadn’t wanted to ask him that question that was always floating around your mind: what if he trained for the off season in Chicago? You knew he cherished his time at home, seeing childhood friends and old teammates, getting to spend more time with his family. As much as he hated leaving you, he was also excited to move back to Vancouver for a few months. You didn’t want to take that away from him. Besides, you’d done two summers of it already. How hard could a third one be? 

Over the years, you’d only been out to Vancouver twice during the off seasons. Once the first summer, and once the second, both for a week long. It was a beautiful city, you could see why Connor was happy there. And you loved his family too. They were always so welcoming, treating you like one of their own. 

So it wasn’t out of the ordinary to see a text from Maddie pop up on your phone. The two of you were almost always texting back and forth, and you were beyond ecstatic to have found a friend in her. 

What was out of the ordinary, however, was the message itself. 

Maddie: Connor got hurt at practice today. It’s bad.

Within ten minutes, you had bought a ticket for the next flight out to Vancouver and had your suitcase splayed on your bed, shoving in clothing items without bothering to fold them. You had visions of Connor being crushed against the board and falling unconscious, of him being trampled completely by another player, of blood covering the ice. 

Maddie hadn’t responded to any of your frantic texts following hers, asking for details before informing her that you were on your way.

Your heart raced as news of his injury spread across social media. Headlines began popping up one after another, each one more dramatic than the last. Connor still hadn't responded to any of your texts, and every minute that passed tightened the knot in your stomach.

You were in line for security at the airport when he finally responded. 

Connor 🩷: Hi baby Connor 🩷: I’m okay Connor 🩷: Well, not okay okay Connor 🩷: But okay 

You: I’m already at the airport.

Connor 🩷: Wait Connor 🩷: What?

You: Boarding starts in half an hour.

Connor 🩷: Baby Connor 🩷: You didn’t have to do that

You: I’ll see you tonight.

By the time you had landed in Vancouver, the sun had set and it was nearing midnight back in Chicago. You fought a yawn as you pulled your suitcase down from the overhead bin and made your way down the aisle, powering your phone back on as you went. 

You had a stream of texts from your parents, your friends, even some of Connor’s teammates, asking for any updates. 

You hated not knowing what was going on. The weight of the unknown sat on your chest, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

The entire flight, you hadn’t been able to pay attention to the movie flickering on the screen built into the back of the chair in front of you. You were functioning on autopilot while your brain panicked. 

That was when another text came through, one of your friends forwarding you a video posted on Twitter. You clicked it open, eyes widening as you realized it was footage of Connor’s accident. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes wide as you watched him go down, landing hard on his shoulder. Your breath hitched. He pushed up almost immediately, abandoning his stick on the ice. Connor was bent over, clutching his left arm as he pushed himself off the ice, and then the video ended. 

You stepped off the plane and onto the jet bridge, shoving your phone into your pocket with nearly shaking hands. 

The memory of him doubled over in pain replayed in your mind over and over again as you made your way out of the airport and to your waiting Uber. 

By the time the Uber turned onto Connor’s street, you felt nauseous, unsure about what you were about to walk into. You didn’t even know if he was home. He could be at some special hospital surrounded by surgeons for all you knew. 

All you knew was that you needed to set your eyes on him.

You couldn’t rest until you saw that he really was okay. 

You murmured a distracted ‘thank you’ to the driver before climbing out, lugging your suitcase behind you as you made your way up the driveway towards that familiar front door.

It opened before you could even raise your fist to knock, Melanie Bedard standing on the other side.

“Hi, honey.” 

Seeing Connor’s mother’s soft smile eased something within you, but it wasn’t quite enough.

“Is he-”

“He’s here, come on in.” 

She brought you into a quick hug, giving you a tight squeeze that you relished as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. 

You walked farther into Connor’s childhood home, eyes scanning for him. 

And then there he was, nestled into the couch, left arm in a tight sling. He looked up immediately, some sort of relief settling in his eyes as he took you in. 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. You felt your stomach settle, the tightness in your chest release, your heart calm as you took him in. 

He was there, in front of you, mostly in one piece. 

“Hi, baby,” he said softly, moving to push himself up off the couch. He’d already pushed the blanket off his lap, like he’d been waiting to hear the front door open.

And, now that you knew he was okay, you felt a new emotion take place. 

“You asshole,” you gritted out, eyes squeezing shut as Connor moved towards you.

Connor faltered, frozen midstep, eyes widening. “Uh, what?” 

“You could have texted me!” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t hear anything from you. Maddie is the one to tell me, which–” you paused, turning your head to look at Connor’s sister who had entered the room, wearing a small smirk. “Thank you by the way.” 

She shrugged, grinning.

You turned back to Connor. “I had no idea what was happening, or how bad it was. You scared me.” 

Connor’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean to.” And then, “there was so much happening at once, I just couldn’t get to my phone.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you. Your arms slipped carefully around his waist, avoiding the sling, and your forehead rested against his uninjured shoulder. The tears you'd somehow managed to hold back all day finally spilled over.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you mumbled, taking a moment to breathe in his familiar scent. 

His arm came around you, pulling you closer. You felt him breathe a sigh of relief, and you knew that being together again was easing you as much as it was easing him. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked, pulling back slightly and scrubbing the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. 

Your eyes searched his as he shrugged with his good shoulder, ever the picture of nonchalance.

“It’s not too bad,” 

“He’s had enough pain meds to take out a horse,” Maddie quipped, causing you to smile. Connor rolled his eyes, his arm still wrapped around you. 

Your boyfriend leaned in, pressing his lips to your temple in a soft kiss. 

“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

You shook your head. “It was better for everyone involved that I see you alive for myself,” you joked. “I was on a bit of a war path.” 

You spent the rest of the night settling in with the Bedards. Tom took your suitcase to Connor’s room before joining the rest of you in the family room. They filled you in on everything—the awkward collision at practice, the emergency room visit, the scans, the surgery he'd need in a few days, and the possibility that he'd miss the start of the season. 

Connor stayed mostly quiet through it all, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against your shoulder.

With every sentence, you felt yourself relax just a little more. Connor was beside you, his good arm tucked around your shoulders. He was hurt, but he would be okay. He would heal.

While getting ready for bed, Connor appeared behind you in the bathroom, his eyes finding yours in the mirror.

“I love you, you know.” His voice was soft, exhausted from a terribly long day. 

You turned, leaning your back against the counter so that you could look at him properly. 

“I know,” you smiled, and he rolled his eyes. “I love you too.” 

“Thank you for being here.” 

“I’ll always be here.”

[abbydianereads]

The Words Between Us

Request: Can you do a Fraser Minten request?? One where you injury yourself while he’s away and you don’t tell him until he comes home because you didn’t wanna distract him???

pairing: Fraser Minten x gf! reader

content: broken wrist, reader withholding information, angst, arguments, cursing, but also fluff

wc: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for this request! I love writing angsty stuff, it's lowkey so much fun. I hope you love it!

Happy birthday Minty!!

You were known to be clumsy. That was a fact about yourself that, no matter what you did, you couldn’t part with. 

Sometimes you would miss a step and slide down the stairs. Maybe you’d accidentally run into the doorway, slamming your hip against the fame. One time, your heel got stuck in a crack in the sidewalk and down you went. 

It got to the point where Fraser would joke that you needed to travel in bubble wrap. 

Usually, Fraser was there to catch you, or scoop you up, or place the bandaid on whatever cut you had acquired. He always stopped whatever he was doing to take care of you.

This time, he was in Seattle for a game. 

It is a known fact that Seattle is very far from Boston, 3,045 miles to be exact. 

So when you fell while out with your friends and snapped your wrist, you made the conscious decision to not tell him. 

It was a thought in the back of your mind the entire ride to the ER, in the waiting room, and even while getting X-Rays done. You should call him, let him know that his girlfriend just broke her wrist while at a sports bar watching his game. 

But then you began to spiral: he still had three more games on this trip before returning to Boston. He couldn’t be distracted, or worried, or wanting to race home to take care of you. Besides, it’s not like you were dying, or in serious need of taking care of. It was just a broken wrist. 

You ignored the look that your friend gave you when you mentioned waiting to tell them, and you ignored the angel on your shoulder that was saying that keeping this from him would make him upset. 

You were dead set on doing what you thought was right, because you knew that he would drop everything–possibly to his detriment–to race to your side. You didn’t want to be the reason why. You didn’t want to be a problem. 

So for the next week, you fumbled around the kitchen with one hand, doing your best to keep the house clean with one arm in a sling. You slept fitfully, already tired of the cast. Your thumb fumbled with your phone as you texted Fraser that yes, everything was fine, you couldn’t wait to see him, etc. etc. etc. 

At the end of the week, he got home earlier than you’d expected. Usually, he’d get home in the early hours of the morning when coming back from a series of away games. That’s what you’d been hoping for, because then you could push off the conversation about your wrist until the morning when he’d be fully awake. 

But as you were struggling to open your moisturizer in the bathroom while getting ready for bed, you heard a familiar click echo through the apartment and a creak of hinges. 

You froze. 

“Baby?” That familiar, soothing voice that you loved called out. 

Fuck. 

You were staring wide-eyed at yourself in the mirror, mind racing. 

“It’s me!” You heard Fraser continue, and then the sound of his feet padding down the hall towards your shared bedroom, and the bathroom that was attached to it. 

You took a deep breath. You made this bed, now you’d have to lie in it. 

“Hi, Fraser!” You called, trying to keep your voice even. The bathroom door opened and there he was, looking beyond handsome, if not a little tired. His hair was curling around the tops of his ears, leaking out from beneath a backwards cap. 

He grinned, visibly relaxing as his eyes met yours. 

And then, he did what he always did after returning home. He dragged his eyes over you in that protective way, just to make sure you’d stayed in one piece while he was away.

Then he stilled, his shoulders tensing, his smile dropping.

You swallowed. 

“What the hell?” He stepped towards you, fingers coming out to touch your sling. 

“Uh-” you mind span, searching for something to say, some sort of explanation that would ease the sting of you keeping this from him. 

“What happened?” 

“I fell,” you shrugged. “No biggie.” 

“And you broke your wrist?” 

You frowned. “And I broke my wrist.” 

Fraser took a step back, his own frown matching yours. His eyes jumped up, searching your face. He looked angry, his brows drawn together. Your heart sank with the knowledge that he was angry at you. 

In the history of your relationship, you and Fraser had only ever had two major fights. There’d only ever been two times where he looked at you like how he was looking at you now. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

He was silent, his jaw clenched. 

Suddenly you felt very small. Guilty. Regretful. 

Fraser was never angry out loud. You only saw it in the way he moved, how his muscles would tense. You only heard it in the quiet intensity of his voice. 

So when he finally did speak, his words were clipped, low, gravelly. “You were in the ER.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“And you didn’t tell me.” 

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Searched for the words that made your actions sound more reasonable than they were. There weren’t any. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you said anyway, your voice soft. “You were in the middle of your trip. I knew you’d–”

“What?” His tone sharpened. “Care?” 

You winced. “That’s not– I was just–” you cut yourself off, aware that nothing you could say right now would help. 

Fraser exhaled through his nose and looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. For a second he just stood there, staring at the wall. Your eyes tracked him, the fingers on your good hand fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. His sweatshirt that you had snuck out of the laundry to wear while he was away. 

When he looked back at you, his expression had shifted. Still tense, still angry, but hurt had wedged its way in as well. 

Fuck, you were such an idiot. 

“You broke your wrist,” he started, “and I find out by walking into the bathroom to see you in a sling.” 

Your throat tightened. “I was going to tell you.” 

“When?”

You hesitated, because you’d been planning to push off this conversation for as long as possible. That hesitation said everything. 

Fraser shook his head once, like he couldn’t even believe it. “You think I can’t handle being worried about you?”

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s just that I know you. You would have gotten on a plane and left everything. You’d be stressed and distracted, even though I’m fine and you’d be–” you cut yourself off once more, frustration and fear flooding your brain. You took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to take you away from what you were doing.” 

His eyes softened, just slightly. But he didn’t move closer. He stayed just out of reach, even though you desperately wanted to go to him and feel him and know that he was here with you. 

“That’s not your job,” he said finally. 

You blinked, confused. “What?” 

“My job,” he corrected steadily. “Is to decide what I can handle. Not you.” 

He stepped closer, hand drifting to brush against your uninjured one. He was warm and soft and you leaned into it, shutting your eyes briefly. 

“Your job is to tell me when you’re hurt.” 

Your chest felt tight, exposed, like all your feelings were painted across your skin for him to see. 

“I didn’t want to be a problem,” you admitted, your voice rising just above a whisper. 

That was what did it. The anger faded completely from his expression and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest gently, leaving enough space for your sling. You gripped his shirt, breathing him in. 

That familiar warmth, comfort, and love surrounded you.

“You’re not a problem,” he said, his words muffled from where he’d buried his face in your hair. “You’re my person.” 

You felt the tears burning in your eyes from how gentle he was being, even though you probably deserved his anger. 

He pulled back, looking you in the eye. “And I’m supposed to know when my person is in the ER.” 

You swallowed, blinking fast to keep the tears away. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, searching his eyes. 

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes shutting momentarily. “Yeah, you are.” His lips ticked upwards. “But I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

And just like that, the fear inside you was gone. You melted into him completely, a new feeling settling inside you.

You were relieved. Relieved that he was here with you, that he finally knew. That he saw you and understood while also telling you what he needed in return. 

“I love you,” you whispered into his chest. 

His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “I love you too.”

[abbydianereads]

Just Cuz of You | Fraser Minten

Prompt: after a long week on the road, Fraser missed you. A lot.

Pairing: Fraser Minten x female reader

Content: 18+ (minors dni!!!), fingering, oral fem receiving, praise, cumming in pants, smut

Wc: 1.6k

a/n: this is my first time posting smut that i've written. i hope you like it!

The entire drive home from the airport, Fraser was thinking about how he couldn’t wait to see you, touch you. You were his home, and when he spent so many days traveling for games, he felt as if part of him was dying without you. 

You had always felt the same. The long stretches without your boyfriend were hard. Coming home from work to an empty house, sleeping in the bed you shared with him alone. 

This particular trip, Fraser was getting home in the early hours of the morning. Usually, you’d wait up for him, but after a long day, you’d collapsed into bed early, passing out for the night. 

So when Fraser finally got home, his heart was nearly racing from excitement. Even being in the same house as you was enough to set him ablaze. He locked the door behind him and set his bags down before padding down the hallway towards your shared bedroom. 

The door was cracked open, letting the light of a dim bedside lamp cast a tiny sliver of light through the hallway. 

Fraser peeked in to see you curled up on top of the covers, hair splayed in every direction, chest rising and falling slowly. He felt a smile grow on his face at the sight of you. Apparently, you had been too tired to even crawl beneath the blankets. 

Slowly, he pushed the door open and slipped off his shoes before moving towards the bed. Gently, he lowered himself onto the mattress beside you, brushing your hair off your forehead with soft fingers.

You stirred slightly, eyes fluttering, before lying still once more. 

Fraser knew he should let you sleep. You’d texted him before his flight about how tired you were. You worked hard, and he had always admired that about you. But yet… his ache to hear your voice won out over what he should have done. 

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your eye, the tip of your nose. Your breath hitched as you woke up, eyelids cracking open to see your boyfriend hovering above you, a handsome but sheepish smile on his face. 

“Frasie?” You asked, voice thick with sleep. 

His smile grinned. “Hey, baby.” 

At the sight of him, excitement soared through you and you moved to sit up, immediately wrapping your arms around him. His arms swallowed you, and he pulled you onto his lap, face tucked into your hair. He inhaled, as if he had missed the smell of your shampoo. 

And then, as if he just couldn’t help himself, he pressed his lips to your neck. His soft, open mouthed kisses caused your heart to flutter. Subconsciously, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. 

One of your hands cupped the back of his head, twisting his hair between your fingers.

Fraser couldn’t have been more content, having his entire world in his arms. 

But, ever since he’d left for the roadie, he’d been thinking about how he’d make it up to you for being gone for a week.

Gently, he grabbed your hips and placed you back on the bed, using his arms to cage you against the mattress. You smiled sleepily at him, your heart full. 

His own smile on his face, Fraser dipped his head to bring his lips to yours. They were soft, all encompassing in the best way. When he kissed you, it was purposeful and utterly enthralling. 

He nipped at your bottom lip, causing your breath to catch in your throat  as he transferred his kisses to your jawline, then to your neck, nipping and kissing at your pulse point. 

Slowly, you felt yourself awaken even more. Your body was hyperaware of every place that Fraser was pressed against you. With his knee, he urged your legs apart, settling his hips between them. You felt his growing hardness pressing against your thigh. It sent a pulse of hot desire to your core. 

He held himself up with one hand, the other ghosting over the peaks of your breasts. At the hint of his touch, your nipples hardened beneath your thin t-shirt. 

“Fraser,” you complained softly. He unlatched his lips from your neck, where you now had a nice bruise appearing, and looked up at you. His eyes were dark, his want shining through them. “Don’t tease me after being gone so long.” 

He grinned devilishly. “Yes ma’am.” 

Then, he moved his head down, latching his hot mouth around your right breast through your shirt. His tongue flicked against your nipple, causing you to arch into his touch. 

He brought his hand down to your hips, fisting your t-shirt and dragging it up your torso. Beneath, all you had been wearing were lacy black panties, and he groaned at the sight. 

“Fuck, baby.” He pulled away, just looking at you laying beneath them. “I missed you.” 

The way his gaze took you in, hot and heavy, made your thighs squeeze together. At the motion, Fraser looked up at you, amusement on your face. 

Then, he reached forward, dragging one finger over the fabric of your panties at your center. You sucked in a breath. 

“God, you’re so wet.” His voice lowered, sounding huskier than it had moments before. It caused a deep ache within you. Not wasting any more time, Fraser hooked his fingers around the fabric, dragging it down your legs and tossing it somewhere behind him. And there you were, glistening before him. He cursed again, running a finger through your slit. You arched into his touch, a whimper escaping you when his thumb rubbed against your clit. 

“Fraser,” you pleaded, eyes round as you watched him. 

“I’m gonna help you baby, don’t worry.” And then, he lowered himself between your legs, and licked a stripe up your core. A breathy moan escaped you as he pressed his lips to your clit, sucking gently. 

You were a sight before him, t-shirt hiked up around your breasts, pussy dripping. You tasted sweet, and you were his favorite flavor. 

He groaned against you, slowly circling where you needed him most with his index finger. 

You tilted your hips, causing Fraser to bring his free hand up to press you into the mattress. And then, he inserted one finger inside you, lapping at your cunt like a starving man. And right then and there, you ascended to heaven. 

“You taste so fucking good,” Fraser groaned against you, the vibrations causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You buried your fingers in his hair, pressing him more firmly against you. 

“More,” you begged, panting. 

Fraser was all too willing to oblige. He stuck another finger inside you, pumping and curling in the way that made you see stars. Curses slipped out of your lips. 

In his pants, Fraser was hard, stiff, and throbbing against the fabric. Eating you out, watching you come apart on your fingers, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. The sweet sounds that poured from your mouth went straight to his dick, and he knew it was leaking with precum. As if he couldn’t help himself, he ground his pelvis against the mattress, groaning at the feeling of having you in his mouth and the sweet tension that the movement brought. 

As his fingers pumped into your harder, and his tongue worshiped your clit, he continued grinding his cock onto the bed. You opened your eyes at the motion, watching him get himself off while taking care of you. 

“Fraser,” your voice was high pitched, begging. 

He picked up his face, lips glistening with you. “You gonna cum on my fingers baby?” 

“I’m so close,” you told him, grinding yourself onto his hand. His hips stuttered against the bed. 

“Do you see what you do to me?” He asked, voice strained. You couldn’t help but watch as he got himself off just on the taste of you and how you felt wrapped around his fingers. You nodded, biting your lip at the sight. More than anything, you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick shaft, take him into your mouth, give him the same experience he was giving you. “Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum just from tasting you.” 

“Let me help,” you pleaded, hands reaching. He shook his head, not responding before placing his lips back on you. 

And then, he took it up multiple notches. His fingers curled harder, faster, beckoning your release forward. He sucked on your clit.

“Fuck, Frasie,” you gasped. And then you saw stars, his name spilling off your lips as your release exploded through you. 

Fraser groaned low, his hips continuing his movements as his fingers worked through your orgasm, milking out every last drop. The room was spinning with ecstasy. And then, he was squeezing his eyes shut, groaning your name as his hips stuttered against the mattress. With wide eyes, you watched a dark, wet patch appear on the fabric of his pants. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, Fraser picked up his head, looking at you through his brows. 

“See, baby? You made me cum in my pants without even touching me.” 

You nodded, not able to find the words. Because that, seeing how much Fraser loved making you cum to the point of cumming in his pants, might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen. 

It only made your desire for him multiply tenfold.

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

The Co-Host Situation

prompt: social media alternate universe where y/n is a famous podcaster and invites Macklin Celebrini on as a guest star

pairing: macklin celebrini x femreader

a/n: my first smau! let me know if you like it, this was fun!

face claim: sara carrolli

yourusername

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, alexandracooper, and 89,768 others...

yourusername special episode dropping tomorrow 👀 with a special guest? 🏒

comments...

user: counting down the minutes i can't wait

user: hockey special guest? are my worlds colliding???

mackcelebrini: 🐐

⤷ user: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

⤷ user: of course macklin listens to self care podcasts

⤷user: IS MACK THE SPECIAL GUEST?

❤️ yourusername liked this comment

⤷ yourusername: @mackcelebrini your man comment is marking up my feed

friendusername: special guest and it isn't me 😢

⤷yourusername: don't worry bbg i haven't forgotten you

alexandracooper: giggling i can't wait!

more comments...

mackcelebrini

liked by yourusername, _willsmith2, sanjosesharks, and 165,786 others...

mackcelebrini trying something new, will report back

comments...

user: @yourusername HE IS DEFINITELY LISTENING TO YOU

user: NO FUCKING WAY

user: there is so much to unpack in this post idk where to start

user: did mack go on a date??????

yourusername: my new ep tomorrow is about trying new things! you should check it out ;)

⤷ mackcelebrini: 🫡

⤷ user: WHAT IS HAPPENING

⤷ user: mack x y/n cross over????

⤷ user: how much you wanna bet they went on a date

_willsmith2: how come you don't take me on dates?

⤷ mackcelebrini: you jelous?

⤷ _willsmith2: ew no.

⤷ user: this is everything to me

more comments...

yourusername

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, sanjosesharks, and 98,339 others...

yourusername: quick trip to cali!

comments...

user: i was there too! i saw your face on the jumbotron!

mackcelebrini: petition for y/n to move to san jose permanently

⤷ yourusername: seriously considering it

⤷ user: they gotta be dating

⤷ user: i think she was wearing his jersey at the game!

⤷ user: my brain is gonna explode

_willsmith2: you were kinda cool ig

⤷yourusername: thanks bro

⤷ user: mack's two lovers are fighting?

user: prettiest girly ever

user: literally obsessed with the ep that mack guest starred on

user: i literally wanna be y/n so bad

user: your ep on hobbies inspired me so much! just got into sewing and it's been so soothing.

⤷ yourusername: best news ever!

more comments...

mackcelebrini

liked by yourusername, _willsmith2, sanjosesharks, and 167,598 others...

mackcelebrini: rewind it back

comments...

user: IS THAT Y/N'S HAND?????

⤷ user: it's gotta be bro

⤷ user: no fricken way

yourusername: booking my next flight as we speak?

⤷ user: ARE YALL DATING

⤷ user: stop this is so cute

_willsmith2: can we hang out i've been feeling neglected lately

⤷ user: awwwww smitty's jelous

⤷ yourusername: read it and weep, smit

⤷ mackcelebrini: bro we're roommates?

⤷ user: someone give will a hug rn

more comments...

yourusername

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, sanjosesharks, and 101,187 others...

yourusername: left my heart in San Jose

comments...

mackcelebrini: ❤️

⤷ user: DON'T PLAY WITH ME RN

⤷ user: this has gotta be confirmation

⤷ user: IM SCREAMING

alexandracooper: this is so cute????

user: y/n is the prettiest girl ever?

⤷ mackcelebrini: repost

user: all the signs are saying move to San Jose

⤷ yourusername: wouldn't that be fun!

_willsmith2: 🕺🐐

⤷ yourusername: you're right will, I did outdance you at the club

⤷ user: lmao???!!

friendusername: is this what it feels like to be ignored

⤷ yourusername: you literally went with me?

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Against the Boards | Macklin Celebrini

prompt: You only wanted to survive the charity skate without falling over—getting checked into the boards was definitely not part of the plan.

pairing: macklin celebrini x girlfriend!reader

content: injury, throwing up, concussion, fluff, protective Macklin, cursing, use of y/n, established relationship

wc: 2.3k

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for days because I'm not entirely sure I like it, so let me know what you think!

You were not good at hockey. In fact, you’d never once claimed to be. But that didn’t seem to matter, because there you were on the ice, wearing leggings and one of Mack’s jerseys. Macklin had tied your laces tight, and you felt the skates squeezing around your ankles. 

You held your stick with two hands, like Macklin had shown you just before the game, and tried your best to just stay out of the way.

It was a charity skate, something that the Anaheim Ducks and San Jose Sharks were putting on together. Apparently, not enough players had signed up so they began reaching out to the players' partners and family members instead. Which was exactly how you came to be in your current position. 

Now you were in the SAP Center, the arena roaring around you–though it wasn’t nearly as full as it would have been during a normal game. 

You weren’t the only “normal” person on the ice either. Tyler Toffoli’s wife, Cat, was there, as well as some of the Duck’s significant others. The only reason you had agreed to play was that it was supposed to be no contact–no hitting, checking, any of it. Otherwise, you would have happily sat in the stands to watch. 

You scanned the ice, finding Macklin down by the Duck’s goal, handling the puck expertly. He shot, the puck zinging into the net and you cheered, throwing your hands and stick into the air. He circled around the rink, coming back to stand next to you, a smile on your face. 

“You haven’t touched the puck yet,” he said, grinning. 

“Haha,” you laughed sarcastically. “I’m just here to be another body, not to actually play.” 

“How about we make a deal,” he began. You groaned. “I’ll get the puck after the faceoff, and you position yourself next to the goal. I’ll pass it to you and you can shoot it in.” 

“Mack, I don’t need to score, I’m just here because you asked me to be.” 

“But it’ll be fun!” He begged, giving you those damn puppy dog eyes. At that moment, Will Smith, Mack’s best friend, skated up beside the two of you.

“Are we gonna flirt or are we gonna play?” He teased.

“You two can flirt all you want,” you told him, smirking. “I’m playing.”

Both boys ignored your statement. 

“Does that mean I can pass the puck to you?” Mack asked. 

You nodded, finally giving in. Mack pumped his fist in the air, then moved to take the faceoff position. Smitty took his position as well, and you did your best to skate (more like a hobble) into your place. 

Then, the play was live, and you began moving down the ice once Macklin won the faceoff, moving around one of the Ducks flawlessly with the puck. You did your best to keep your eye on him while also looking at your surroundings to ensure you weren’t going to run into anything or fall over. 

Will was to your left, on the other side of the goal, ready to rebound your shot if you missed or if the Ducks’ goalie intercepted it. 

“Ready?” Mack called, and you nodded. Before you knew it, the puck was racing towards you across the ice. It met your stick with a thump.

You were so focused on the puck and taking aim that you didn’t even see the Ducks player racing towards you. 

Someone shouted–maybe Will, maybe Macklin–but it was too late. 

A force rammed into your side, sending you flying backwards and into the boards. Your head cracked against the glass, the air punching out of your lungs.  

For a moment, you were crushed between the boards and the player, pain reverberating up your spine. Then he moved away, and you slid down onto the ice. 

It all happened so fast that you barely even knew what was happening. Suddenly, you had been hit hard, and now you were on the ice, vision swimming before you.

The arena was dead silent.

No one moved. No one cheered. 

For a split second, Macklin didn’t move. But then he saw you crumple to the ice. A range of emotions flew over his face, surprise, fear, panic, anger. 

His gloves hit the ice before the whistle was even blown. He was like a storm, flying across the ice towards the opponent with rage coloring his face. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked sharply, and then his fists were flying. Will and Tyler were suddenly in the middle, trying to pull the two apart. 

“Are you okay?” A voice cut in, and you looked up slowly to see Cat skating over to you, worry all over her face. 

“I think so,” you managed, beginning to push yourself to your feet. You weren’t used to having to stand on ice with skates, and your legs went out from under you. You landed back on the ice with an “oomph” escaping your lips. 

Cat smiled gently and held her hands out for support. Gratefully, you took them and she helped you to your feet. As you stood, your vision spun around you, causing you to lean on the shorter woman and grab the boards for support. 

“I’m just kinda dizzy,” you explained, blinking a couple times to refocus. 

“Let’s get you off the ice,” Cat said, trying to lead you towards the exit. But a sharp yell came from the side, causing you to pause. 

Your eyes moved back to Mack, who was fighting against Toffoli’s hold on him.

“She’s not wearing any padding you fucking idiot!” He yelled, red staining his cheeks. 

“I was in the moment and forgot!” The other player tried to reason, throwing his hands in the air. 

Toff leaned in to Mack, saying something low that you couldn’t make out. Whatever it was, it caused Mack’s head to turn towards you, his eyes searching all over your body. You watched as the anger was replaced with something else. Panic, fear, you weren’t entirely sure. 

Toffoli dropped his arms, releasing Mack and letting him skate over to you. Immediately, Mack grabbed your shoulders gently, pulling you into his chest with a certain intensity, like he needed to make sure that you were there and standing. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice low and severe. You nodded into him, relishing in his warmth, in the security of his body. And then it was like a wave of exhaustion hit you, and you wobbled on your feet, blinking. Mack’s arms hardened around you, offering more support as he pulled away to look you in the face. 

“What is it?” He asked, his voice quieter now. His eyes were searching, looking for what could be wrong. You couldn’t focus on his face, and kept blinking rapidly. Everything felt like it was spinning around you. “Hey– hey, look at me,” he said urgently, hands cupping your cheeks. 

“I just need to sit down, I think,” you told him, gripping his forearms tightly. He nodded, and the two of you began moving towards the bench, where a trainer was already waiting. Your steps were choppy, as if you’d forgotten how to skate, but Mack didn’t comment. His jaw only tightened, as if he was clenching his teeth so hard that they might begin cracking in his mouth. 

Once you reached the bench, Macklin lowered you gently, and then the trainer was there, asking questions and shining a flashlight in your eyes. You winced at the onslaught, the light feeling too bright. It sent nausea spiraling in your stomach. 

“Wait-” you warned, but then you were leaning forward, throwing up onto the trainer’s shoes. Mack was immediately at your side, rubbing your back gently as his eyes moved from you, to the trainer, back to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to say weakly to the trainer, but he just shook his head, giving you a smile. 

“Happens all the time,” he reassured, though you knew that was a lie. “Why don’t we get you into the locker room? You definitely have a concussion, but it will be easier to check you out further in a quiet space.” 

You nodded, and Macklin helped you stand. The three of you filed down the hallway and into the locker room, where you sat back down on a bench as soon as possible. 

The trainer resumed his testing, asking questions, telling you to follow his finger with your eyes, the usual. 

The door opened and Cat walked in, lips pursed. 

“I’ll stay with her if you want to get back out there,” she said to Macklin quietly, who was watching from the side, stoic as ever. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

“I don’t want to leave if she might need me,” he whispered back, eyes never leaving you. 

Two hours later, you were laying on the couch in the apartment you shared with Mack. The trainer had told him to take you to the ER to get properly looked at, and after even more doctors flashing lights in your eyes and asking you questions, all you’d wanted to do was go home.

Macklin was finishing something in the kitchen, and once he was done, he sat next to you before pulling you into his lap. He buried his face in your hair, breathing deeply as you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes drifting shut. 

“I’m sorry for ruining the charity game,” you mumbled softly. 

Mack shook his head. “No, you didn’t. That asshole did.” 

You pulled away slightly to look your boyfriend in the eye. “It was an accident.” That was the truth of it. It had been an accident, a slipup. What was supposed to be an easy, contact-free game had been mistakenly turned into something larger. Something scarier. 

“He should have been smarter than that,” Mack pointed out, eyes searching your face. And then, “I was so scared when I saw you hit the ice, y/n.” He shook his head. “You hit the boards and didn’t get up. I thought–” he bit his lip and turned away, jaw clenching. 

Oh.

Oh.

Macklin had always been sweet, loving, protective. He loved hockey, it was his life. But he had never once hesitated before putting you first. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. 

“You have a concussion,” he pointed out, smoothing a hand over your hair. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly at the feeling of comfort. 

“A small one,” you reminded him. The doctor had said it wasn’t anything huge, you shouldn’t have any serious and concerning brain damage. You’d be fine within the next week. 

“You should get some rest.” 

You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder as he held you. 

“Can I sleep here?” The question was moot–your eyes were already drifting shut. 

“Always,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head. 

That's how you stayed for the rest of the day, drifting in and out of sleep in Macklin’s arms. 

Later that evening, your eyes opened sleepily. Your head felt heavy, resting against something hard and warm. You pulled back slightly to see Mack already looking down at you, eyes worried. 

“How’s the head?” He asked, as if trying to hide the emotion in his gaze.

“Still attached,” you joked softly, though it felt as if your brain was pulsing behind your eyes. “So far so good.” 

A small smile flitted across his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were still clouded with the same worry that had been there all afternoon.

“I’m okay,” you reminded him. He nodded, quick. You didn’t believe it for a second. “Really, I am.” 

For a moment he just looked at you before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

When he pulled away, you frowned. 

“That’s it?” You asked, pouting. 

His brows lifted. “You have a concussion.

“So?” You asked, trying to lean forward and capture his lips with yours. 

He grinned slightly, pulling away before you could reach him. “So,” he continued patiently. “You have a concussion. I’m not exactly trying to make it worse.” 

You rolled your eyes, a behavior you had taken part in for every day of your life, but this time it sent pain spiking down your neck. You wobbled in his lap, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Immediately, Mack’s hands were on your waist, gently squeezing for support. 

“Easy,” he murmured. 

You smiled softly once you opened your eyes. “You’re hovering,” you teased. 

Macklin puffed his chest out slightly, causing a little laugh to escape you. “I’m protecting,” he insisted. You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. 

His gaze softened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. Tentatively, he leaned forward, brushing your lips with his, testing the waters, making sure he wouldn’t hurt you. 

It didn’t.

You softened against him, letting one hand move to tangle into his hair. When you leaned closer, tugging eagerly, he pulled away, laughing softly as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Careful,” he reminded. 

“You started it,” you breathed. 

He grinned, rubbing slow circles into the small of your back. 

“You’re impossible.” 

You smiled cheekily. “Yet you’re still holding me.” 

Mack’s arms tightened, pulling you against his chest. 

“Yeah.” He said softly. “I am.” 

Not long after that, you drifted back to sleep, head on Macklin’s chest. 

Every time you shifted, his arms tightened instinctively around you.

Mack didn’t let go once. 

Not after the hit.

Not at the hospital.

And not for the rest of the night.

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

How Not To Skate | Macklin Celebrini

Prompt: Macklin teaches you how to skate... it doesn't go well.

Pairing: Macklin Celebrini x reader

Content: fluff, skating injury, cursing

Wc: 1.5k

Macklin was determined to teach you how to skate. 

Unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t grow up on the ice, skating before you knew how to even walk. In fact, the few times you had been to the local rink for a public skate, you’d fallen. Needless to say, ice was overrated, and you were much happier on solid ground.

But… Macklin lived and breathed skating. He had confided in you not long after you got together how it was one of the only places in the world he felt perfectly calm. 

So despite all your reservations, you sat on one of the benches next to the practice rink. Mack was crouched in front of you, stuffing your feet into a pair of hockey skates. He laced and tied them tight to “provide ankle support” he told you. You just hummed in acknowledgement, dread pooling in your stomach. 

You already knew it: you were going to make an absolute fool of yourself. 

Macklin straightened, brushing his hair out of his eyes and flashing you a brilliant grin. 

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his hands. You placed your palms in his, and he pulled you to your feet. You wobbled once, clutching Mack’s forearms to make sure you didn’t flop down. He huffed a laugh, and you shot him a scornful look. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he said for probably the thirteen hundredth time that day. 

“Right.” You nodded sceptically. “When my ass ends up on the ice because you’re too busy laughing at me, I’ll quote this exact moment.” 

Macklin just smirked. Hand in hand, he pulled you over to the entrance. Then, as if he was a duck on water, he pushed out onto the ice, switching smoothly from walking to gliding. 

“See?” He pivoted, beginning to skate backwards towards the center of the ice. You stayed firmly where you were, eyeing the ice like it was your worst enemy. “It’s not so bad.” 

“Says the pro hockey player,” you grumbled. But seeing the excitement in his eyes, you steeled yourself. Then, you placed one foot on the ice, clutching the boards for support. Then, after taking a deep breath, you brought out your other. Immediately, your feet slipped out from under you, and you went down. You shrieked, grabbing the boards tighter to hold yourself. 

Mack laughed, skating up behind you with ease. Show off. 

“Macklin!” You complained. “Help me.” 

He hummed, contemplating. “What do I get in return?” 

“How about I don’t strangle you with the skate laces when we get off?” You proposed sweetly, still attempting to get your feet under you. Every time you tried, you slipped all over again. 

Mack tsk’ed. “So violent.” But then, his arms were around your waist, and he hauled you to your feet, his muscles flexing against you. He didn’t loosen his grip until you were standing straight up, and even then he only moved his hands to your waist, holding you still. You clutched his biceps, already ready to end your “lesson.” 

“Let’s take a lap together, okay?” He said, grabbing your hands in his. “I won’t let go until you get the hang of it.” 

“Promise?” You asked, nerves causing your voice to shake. His amusement softened, and he nodded. 

“I pinky swear on my life,” he answered back. “Ready?” 

You swallowed, but nodded none the less. 

“Okay, here’s how it works. You want to bend your knees slightly, and use one foot to push yourself, while gliding with the other.” His voice was strong and reassuring and you nodded. Slowly, you tried to follow his instructions while he practically floated beside you. But instead of looking graceful and strong like him, you felt like a penguin. 

“Babe, you’re hobbling.” He said, obviously trying not to laugh. You shot him another glare. 

“I’m doing what you said to,” you protested, clutching his hand tightly. 

“No, you’re trying to walk.” 

You stared at him, open mouthed. “I’m failing to see the problem here.” 

Macklin laughed, delighted. “Skating is a completely different movement. Imagine you’re wearing socks on a hard wood floor and you’re sliding across it.” 

You looked down at the ice, remembering the night before when you and Mack had a dance off in the kitchen. You’d worn socks, and the flooring was wood, and at one point, you’d pushed yourself to slide so far that you ran into the fridge door. But still, you remembered what that had felt like, and tried to emulate the movements. 

“Yes!” Mack cheered. “Just like that.” 

Your movements were slow, and wobbly, but you were doing it. 

“I’m doing it!” You said, excitement bubbling in your voice. “Oh, this is easy.” You slowly picked up speed, Mack matching your every movement. You grinned at the ice, suddenly unsure what it was you had been so nervous about. 

“Oh, I got this, Mack. You can let go.” 

“You sure?” Mack asked, one eyebrow raised. 

You nodded stubbornly, and with your confirmation, Mack let go of your hand. 

An elated giggle spilled out of you, and you pushed one, two, three times. Mack still hovered next to you, grinning as he watched you. 

And suddenly, your left leg got too far out from under you and buckled, your right wobbled, and you were falling. 

The ice hit your knees first, then your palms as you threw your arms out to stop yourself. Cold it your hands instantly, shock reverberating up your bones, causing your teeth to clack together.

“Shit!” Macklin came to a sudden stop before kneeling next to you, eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded, kneeling back and rubbing your palms together. The skin was bright red and sore to the touch. 

“Help me up?” You asked, your hands reaching for him. He nodded, grasping your fingers in his and pulling gently. You were able to get your right foot underneath you, but as soon as you put pressure on your left, you buckled, pain zinging up your leg. 

You cried out, crashing back to the ice. Luckily, Mack’s arms went around you quickly, so that instead of a hard fall, he was able to set you down gently. 

“What is it?” He asked, his eyes scanning your body for injuries. 

Now that you noticed it, your left ankle was throbbing. You felt tears burning at the back of your eyes. 

“I think I just twisted my ankle,” you told him, gesturing to your left foot. Immediately, Mack was untying the laces and pulling the skate off as gently as he could manage. You hissed, biting your lip. He unrolled your sock to reveal an already swelling joint. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling your sock back up. “We gotta get you off the ice.”

“Mack, you don’t have to be sorry,” you told him as he stood. You held your arms up so he could pull you back to your feet. Hopefully you could hobble off the ice without any problems. 

“I promised you I wouldn’t let you fall.” Mack’s face looked defeated, and you felt your heart swell for him. 

“Seriously, it happened so fast even I didn’t realize what was happening until I was down,” you said lightly, laughing at yourself. “I’m just a clutz. Not your fault at all.” 

Macklin stooped, hooking one arm beneath your back and the other beneath your knees before hoisting you into the air. You screeched, your arms immediately flying around your neck. 

“I can walk,” you argued. But he wasn’t listening, he was already skating for solid ground, his body strong and hard beneath you. 

And even then, when he stepped off the ice, he didn’t put you down. Instead, he marched you straight to one of the team’s athletic trainers. 

And then, once your ankle was looked at and wrapped, he carried you to the car. And then, when you got home, he carried you inside and deposited you onto the couch.

“Oh good,” you said, burrowing into the cushions. “Am I allowed to walk on my own now?” 

“Nope!” Mack said, retreating to the kitchen to grab an ice pack. When he came back, he sat and pulled your feet into his lap, pressing the ice to your ankle carefully. “I’ll be your noble steed for the rest of our days.” 

You couldn’t help it, and giggled at his silliness. 

“Oh, my handsome horse,” you laughed, feeling your heart swell for him all over again. He really was the best boyfriend, and you loved him more than anything. 

“I love you,” you smiled softly. “Thank you for a great day.” 

“Well, I love you too, but I kind of ruined the day.” 

You shook your head. “Nah. What could be better than getting to sit on my royal ass and order my boyfriend around all day?” 

Mack laughed, shaking his head. “Right. I expect princess treatment as well the next time I’m injured.” 

“I guess I can agree to those terms.” You stuck your hand out, and Mack grasped it, shaking firmly. 

“Deal.”

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Every Saturday | Will Smith Hockey

prompt: Will sees you at the weekly farmers market and thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

pairing: Will Smith x fem reader

content: meet cute, farmers market, so many flowers, fluff

wc: 1.7k

One of Will’s favorite things about Boston was the farmers markets in the summer. When home for the off season, he loved wandering through them to find new ingredients for his baking recipes. It had become a way to ground himself during the intense summer training regimens, and he had made it a habit to go every Saturday. 

He kept telling himself that it wasn’t also because he saw you there. Without fail, he’d seen you every Saturday since he’d started going to the markets, and he couldn’t explain why, but he felt drawn to you. 

From afar, he’d been admiring the way your hair hung down your back, always half tied up with a ribbon. He’d seen you wear long flowing skirts, cutoff jean shorts, even sweatpants one Saturday. You always had a fresh bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm while you browsed whatever stand you were in front of. 

He thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. 

He’d even texted Mack about you, which is how he decided that he needed to talk to you. He couldn’t keep being a creeper and staring at you when you weren’t looking. 

So, one Saturday, he arrived at the farmers market as soon as it opened. He’d dressed up, wearing green trim shorts and a cream linen shirt. He’d mussed his hair up just the way he liked it. And then he posed himself in front of the flower stall, trying to find the perfect flowers to make a bouquet. 

Just a few minutes later, you appeared at his side. He tried not to stiffen, or glance too harshly at you from the corner of his eye. But the truth was that upon seeing you up close, he suddenly forgot how to be a normal, functioning human being.

Because you’d been beautiful from afar.

But he hadn’t been able to see the freckles dancing across your cheeks, or the depth of your eyes, or the exact pink of your lips. 

You were gorgeous up close. 

The lady working the flower stall recognized you, greeting you with a smile and a premade bouquet. 

Before he could lose his nerve, Will opened his mouth. 

“Are those your favorites?” He asked as you pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill from your purse. You glanced up, pink lips parting. His eyes were drawn to the movement, noticing the shine of the lipgloss you were wearing. 

You glanced at the bouquet in your arms. It was filled with tulips, lilies, daisies, and baby’s breath. 

“Uh, yes,” you responded, suddenly overwhelmed by the boy in front of you.

Because he might have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen. And you had seen him before. In your past trips to the farmers market, you’d seen him browsing fruit and vegetable stalls, sampling pastries, walking with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“They’re beautiful,” Will added, cheeks turning pink under your gaze. 

You smiled softly, trying your best to not appear flustered as you looked down at the bouquet. “I think so too.” Your brain scrambled for something else to say, because now that he was in front of you, you couldn’t let him slip away. “I get one every week.”

“Every week?” He repeated. 

You nodded, shrugging. “It’s kind of my thing.” 

The woman behind the stall laughed, shaking the two of you out of the bubble you had found yourself in. 

“She’s my best customer!” She said, taking the twenty from your outstretched hand. “Never misses a Saturday.” 

Heat crept into your cheeks as you watched her slip the bill into her cash box. “You make me sound obsessed.” 

“Aren’t you?” The woman teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

And Will couldn’t stop staring. 

The way your eyes crinkled. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear. The way you looked so comfortable here, surrounded by flowers and fresh produce and the summer sun. 

He thought you looked like you belonged in a painting. 

If he could paint, he would have painted it. 

“What about you?” You asked suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. 

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

“You’ve been standing here for, like,” you glanced down at your phone, “at least three minutes and haven’t picked anything.” 

“Oh.” Will wanted to kick himself. Oh? He sounded like an idiot. 

He cleared his throat. “I don’t actually know anything about flowers.” He shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets, the same way you’d seen him many times before. 

His confession made you laugh, and he decided right then and there that he would embarrass himself a million times over if it meant hearing you laugh again. 

“So why are you here?”

He looked at the hundreds of flowers sorted into buckets, ready to be made into custom bouquets. 

Because I wanted an excuse to talk to you.

Because I’ve been seeing you here every week and thinking you’re beautiful.

Because I might be insane.

Instead, he said, “Because I wanted to buy some.” 

His delivery wasn’t very convincing. 

“For…” You prompted, your smile softening. 

His brain short-circuited. He should have thought this through. 

“Uh… my mom?” The words coming from his mouth sounded more like a question than a secure answer.

“Your mom?” 

“Yup,” Will nodded, popping the “p” as if that would make this entire exchange more convincing. 

“On a random Saturday in July?” 

“Yup,” he said again, nodding with uncertainty. “She likes flowers.” 

You laughed softly. 

Will was doomed, because it might have been the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. 

“I think you’re lying,” you told him, one eyebrow raised. 

Will sighed, looking towards the ground. “I think you’re right,” he mumbled.

Your other eyebrow lifted now as well, surprise etching itself onto your face. 

“Who are the flowers for?” 

He looked at you for a long moment, causing you to swallow. 

The market life was rushing around you, people walking everywhere to survey the produce. A guitar was being strummed somewhere down the aisle. A child passing by was crying. But you heard none of this. All you could focus on was the way his eyes had locked onto yours. 

Then, Will did something very brave. Or possibly very stupid, depending on how this went. 

“What if I said they were for you?” 

Your breath caught, your lips parting once more. “For me?” 

Will’s face turned pink.

“I’ve been noticing you here every week buying flowers and and I know it’s weird and that I probably sound crazy but I just…” he brushed a hand through his hair, swallowing. “You’re beautiful and I’ve been working up the courage to say hi.” 

You stared at him, mouth falling open even further. But then, a smile split your face. 

“You’ve noticed me?” Your voice was soft, tentative, despite the clear excitement coursing through you. 

Will shrugged, his own beautiful smiling taking your breath away. “Kind of hard not to.” 

To his surprise, your cheeks turned pink too.

“That’s funny,” you said softly, shaking your head while glancing down at your feet, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Why?” He asked, leaning closer, wanting to do anything so that you would look at him again.

And when you did look up, it felt like a reward. 

“Because I’ve noticed you too.” 

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon together, wandering slowly through the farmers market as the sun grew higher in the sky. You helped him pick out the perfect peaches for a pie recipe he wanted to try. He bought a carton of strawberries that the two of you shared while walking. You talked about anything and everything, and you were shocked at how easy it felt.

When you had finished, you realized you’d never felt more carefree in your life. 

“Can I get your number?” He asked, a basket of fruit ticked under one arm. You nodded happily, smiling as you fished your phone from your purse and handed it to him. He typed his number in before shooting himself a text. 

“I want to see you again,” you said before your nerves could get the best of you.

Will smiled, and the sight was brilliant. 

“How does dinner on Wednesday sound?” 

The next few days drifted by, and you couldn’t stop looking forward to Wednesday evening. 

When you walked into the restaurant that night, Will was already there, holding a bouquet of tulips, lilies, daisies, and baby’s breath. You were smiling before you even reached the table. Somehow, you weren’t surprised to see the flowers at all. 

After that, every Saturday, Will appeared at your door with a bouquet, and when he moved back to San Jose for the hockey season, he began having them delivered. 

Months later, when he was home for Thanksgiving, you woke up that Saturday to a knock at your door. You opened it to see Will standing in the hallway of your apartment building, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

You smiled, reaching out to grab them from him.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying these. I’m already in love with you.” 

He smiled, stepping past you and into the apartment. “I know.” 

You lifted the flowers to your nose, their familiar and comforting scent something you now associated with Will. “Then why do you?” 

He shrugged. “Because every Saturday I saw you carrying flowers and thought you were the prettiest girl ever. Now when I see them, I think of you.” 

You couldn’t help yourself from rising into your tiptoes to kiss him.

The next summer, after moving to San Jose and into an apartment with Will, you wandered into the kitchen one morning to find a fresh bouquet waiting on the counter.

“You know,” you began, smiling as you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Will from behind. “I think you’re single-handedly keeping flower shops in business.” 

He laughed–your favorite sound in the world–and turned in your arms. “Worth it.”

You looked at the bouquet, feeling your face warm as you smiled. 

Tulips, lilies, daisies, and baby’s breath.

Some things, you hoped, would never change.

[abbydianereads]

Behind the Spotlight | Will Smith Hockey

Request: Hii can you do will with a pop star gf with like a Sabrina kind of theme to her music and she gets hate from those… crazy hockey fans?

Pairing: Will Smith Hockey x pop star reader

Content: cursing, foul language, insecurities, fluff

a/n: thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it.

wc: 1.6k

When you were little, all you wanted to do was sing. In kindergarten, when they asked everyone what they wanted to be when they grew up, you had excitedly cheered “A pop star!” Your teacher had smiled at you, in the same way she smiled at the kids who said they wanted to be astronauts and fairies and princesses. But you knew. 

You knew when you got your first guitar, and sang in your first school variety show. You knew when you began writing your own songs and posting them on Youtube. And when you were eighteen, your life blew up. People wanted to hear you. They cared about what you had to say. They came out to the theaters in droves. Singing at the local bar for their entertainment turned into a world tour. 

Ever since, your life has been a whirlwind. You were constantly on the go, constantly expected to give and give and give. Don’t get it wrong, you wouldn’t give it up for a second. You loved it. 

And then you met Will. It had been accidental. You were in Boston, working on recordings for your new album and had decided to run out to the cafe down the street for some coffee. After you’d grabbed your latte, you were heading out the door when it was shoved open, hitting your face and causing you to stumble backwards. 

“Oh shit,” said a voice. You looked up, making sure to not drop your drink, to see a boy about your age, staring at you with wide eyes. He was the cutest boy you’d ever seen. Blonde, curly hair fell over his forehead, shading his eyes. His jawline was sharp and he had a lithe, firm build. 

“I’m so sorry,” the boy said, stepping into the cafe. 

You gave him a small, flustered smile. “It’s okay.” 

“Seriously, I didn’t see you there.” His voice was deep. “Can I make it up to you?” 

You paused, really taking a moment to take him in. As you looked at him, his eyes widened, as if he was recognizing who you were. 

“I’m Y/N,” you said, sticking out your hand. 

“Will Smith,” he answered, a blush rising on his cheeks. He reached forward, grasping your palm and giving it a firm shake. 

You smiled. Will Smith. “How about you take me out for dinner?” 

The rest was history. 

Now, you’ve been dating for two years. Will was a hockey player, who had been playing for Boston College when you first met, but now played pro for the San Jose Sharks. When you’d first announced your relationship, your fans had gone insane with support. 

Due to you and Will both being constantly busy, there wasn’t much time to see each other. But tonight was one of the rare nights when you were in San Jose, where you had located after Will had been drafted. It was game night, and you’d shown up in Will’s jersey, excited to support your boyfriend. 

The crowd was electric, and when Will scored a goal, you jumped out of your seat, screaming your voice hoarse. He’d looked up at you, winking before his teammates had gotten to him for the celebration. 

Once Will was done changing after the game, he met you outside the locker room, slinging his arm around your shoulders as the two of you headed to the car. 

“You were magic,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his jawline. He grinned handsomely at you. 

“Only cuz you were there.” 

You shrugged. “What can I say? I have a certain charm about me.” 

When the two of you got home and climbed into bed for the night, you were both scrolling through your phones, basking in the quiet night together. 

That’s when you saw a tabloid post on Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, just after Will had exited the locker room. You were pressing a kiss to his jaw. And the headline? 

Does Hockey Star Will Smith Deserve A Whore Like Y/N?

Immediately, your heart plummeted. You were used to hate comments. Even death threats. But questioning your relationship was something else entirely. 

It was true, you weren’t the most family friendly performer. You had adult jokes and movements sprinkled in everywhere throughout your most recent tour set. Reporters even questioned if you were tearing down women by catering to men in the way you dressed and acted on stage. But that’s what it was: an act. You weren’t like that in real life. You treasured your relationship with Will more than anything. 

In fact, on stage was some of the times you felt the most confident in yourself. You played a persona, dancing around in sequined, lingerie inspired dresses, with thick makeup and hair curled to perfection. You felt unstoppable. So why did this bother you so much?

Unable to stop yourself, you clicked on the article, skimming through and even reading the comments left below it. Every word was worse than the one before. Before you knew it, tears were pricking at your eyes. You turned slightly to angle yourself away from Will. He didn’t need to know what they were saying about you. 

You’d had conversations about your dancing and outfits before. He’d never objected to anything, always cheering you on and being 100% supportive. But what if, deep down, he agreed with all of these people? 

A tear escaped, streaking down your cheek. You brought up a hand, scrubbing at your skin as if you could erase the evidence. 

You hated crying.

You felt the mattress dip as Will shifted next to you, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his chest. 

“I was thinking in the morning we can make pancakes and then- wait.” Will paused, turning you in his arms so that he could look at you. “Are you crying?” 

“No,” you answered, rapidly blinking in the hopes to quickly dry the water brimming your eyes. Will narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Your eyes are wet,” he accused gently. “What’s wrong?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing. Everything’s great.” You snuggled into his chest, hoping to push the stupid article and its awful comments from your head. But Will wasn’t having it. He leaned away from you, tilting your chin up with his thumb.

His eyes flicked down to your phone, still clutched in your hand and turned on. Before you could react, he grabbed it from you.

“Will-” you pleaded, reaching to grab it back. He turned out of your grasp, eyes skimming the article just like you had done. 

As he read, your heart began to speed up, panic sluicing through your veins. It seemed like he stopped breathing while he read, his body stiffening. 

“Please stop,” you begged, shrinking in on yourself. All over again, tears began to burn at the corners of your eyes, and you swallowed thickly. 

Will looked up at you, eyes burning, jaw clenched. He’d sat up straight while reading.

Oh god, what if he leaves me?

“You don’t believe this, do you?” He asked, handing your phone back. You sat up as well, scrubbing at your eyes as you did. 

“I-” you swallowed once more. “No, I don’t.” 

His gaze softened and he grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Then why are you crying?” 

You struggled to find the words. “I don’t care when they talk about me. I’m used to it all by now.” Your voice cracked. Will nodded along, eyes boring into yours. “But our relationship–you–it’s everything to me, Will.” Another tear streaked down your cheek. “And what if you see that and begin to think the same? What if you think I’m a whore too?” The words slipped out before you could choke them back, and then, a sob slipped out too.

Immediately, Will shook his head rapidly. “Baby…” He leaned forward, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into his lap. “Y/N, you are the most important thing in my life. I’ve never, not once, thought about you like that.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “They don’t get to define our relationship. We do.” 

He pulled away, making you look him dead in the eye. In his arms, your panic began to subside, your vision clearing. 

“Seeing you up on that stage, doing what you love to do, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And you know what? I think you look hot as fuck in those dresses.” 

You choked out a laugh, which brought a small smile to Will’s face. You felt your heartbeat slow. 

“I love you.” He continued. “I love us. These fucking idiots aren’t changing that.” 

Will pressed his forehead against yours, and as he looked into your eyes, you felt all your worries and fears dissipate. He was right. Like in every other aspect of your life, people didn’t get to dictate what you did or how you did it. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. 

Will shook his head. “No sorry’s.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, soft and slow. 

When you pulled away, you gave him a small smile. “I love you too, weirdo.” 

Will’s jaw dropped in mock offense before he tackled you back on the bed, tickling his fingers along your waist. A shriek of laughter escaped you, and the two of you spent the rest of the night in a tickle war that would make history.

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Two Knights and a Long Island | Will Smith Hockey

Prompt: after scoring two goals, you and Mack take Will out for a night of celebration, only for things to take a dark twist when a man approaches you and is aggressive about taking you home.

Pairing: Will Smith Hockey x girlfriend reader

Content: Platonic relationship with Macklin, implications of SA, drinking alcohol, cursing, physical threats, established relationship.

The night had been a whirlwind of activity. First, your boyfriend had scored during his game, getting the San Jose Sharks even against the Utah Mammoths, and sending the game into overtime. And then, Will scored another during the three on three, winning the game. 

In his honor, you and Mack made a plan, the two of you conversing secretly while waiting for Will to finish a post game interview. 

It wasn’t often that you, Will, and your friends got to have a night out for fun. But as you watched Will talk to a reporter, a look of pure elation on his face, you knew you needed to celebrate. 

You were so beyond proud of him, and had probably cheered the loudest out of anyone in the stands when he sent the puck into the net. You had jumped to your feet, throwing your hands in the air as the buzzer went off. And then, Will looked up at you, a huge grin on his face as his teammates came over to congratulate him on the goal. 

You and Mack stood against the wall, waiting patiently so that you could head to the bar. More teammates began to flood out of the locker room, clapping Will on the shoulder as they went.

Once Will was done, he said thank you to the reporter and walked over to you and Mack, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he began once reaching the two of you. He wrapped one hand around your waist, pulling you into his side. You grinned up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the three of you began walking down the hallway. “We order a pizza, get some beers, and binge watch movies.” 

You and Mack shared a devious look.

“Actually…”

An hour later, the three of you were in a packed sports bar, music blaring in your ears. The three of you had found a hightop near the back to sit at, but you didn’t want to sit. Instead, you stayed standing, dancing in place as the three of you talked. 

You watched as Will tipped back his beer bottle, emptying the glass with one last swig, before setting it down on the table with a thump. He stood, reaching towards you. His hands were warm on your waist, and you weren’t sure if it was the excitement of the evening, or the buzz you had going on from the drinks, but you thought he was stunning. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to you so that the two of you could dance. 

Will pressed his lips to your ear. “You want another drink?” 

You pulled back, nodding eagerly up at him. He hadn’t stopped smiling once all evening, and as he stared at you, his smile softened into something loving. The way he looked at you… it had always made your heart race. 

“What do you want?” Will asked, dancing with you to the beat of the song. 

“Long Island?” You asked, giving him your sweetest smile. 

“You sure?” He raised one eyebrow at you. “Those things knock you on your ask.” 

“Come on, Will,” you whined. “We’re celebrating! We’re celebrating how awesome you are!” 

Will chuckled, nodding his agreement before untangling himself from you. Immediately you felt the loss of his body heat and wanted him to come back to you. He looked at Mack, silently asking what the other boy wanted before making his way to the bar. 

As you waited for Will to return, you slid onto the high top seat, tapping your fingers on the table to the beat. 

Suddenly, Mack cursed, and you made eye contact with him. He was fidgeting in his seat, pulling at the neckline of his t-shirt. 

“You okay?” You asked, leaning closer to him over the table. Mack nodded, then shook his head. “What is it?”

“I have to piss,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. 

You drew back, surprised. “Okay, go to the bathroom then. You’re a big boy.” 

Macklin shook his head furiously. “No way, Will would kill me if I left you alone in here.” 

You looked around. Everyone around you seemed to be stuck in their own conversations or the music, or watching one of the games playing on the numerous flat screen tvs lining the walls. No one was paying attention to your table. 

“Mack, I’ll be fine for a few minutes. I can take care of myself.” 

Mack looked around too, before cursing once more and jumping from the chair. 

“Okay, just don’t go anywhere,” he told you, before racing off towards the men's bathroom.

“Don’t fall in!” You hollered after him, laughing to yourself as he was swallowed into the crowd. 

You pulled out your phone, settling further into the seat as you waited for Will and Mack to return. 

That’s when a large presence sideled up next to you, leaning into your space while setting an elbow on the table in front of you. You looked up, pulling back as your eyes saw a tall man standing in front of you. From his stance, and the way his eyes dilated, you knew he was drunk. He wasn’t much older than you, a year or two at most.

“Can I help you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement only drew his eyes downward towards your breasts, which were somewhat on display in the teal tank top you wore. 

“Yeah, actually,” he began. His breath smelled of beer and smoke. You recoiled slightly. “I was just watching you from across the room, and thought you were beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heated, more from embarrassment and being uncomfortable than anything. But the man didn’t know that. In fact, the sight of it caused him to lean closer.

“Um, that’s very kind,” you stammered, moving to stand from the chair. You glanced around, hoping to see Will coming back from the bar, or even Mack. But you didn’t recognize anyone around you. 

“I was just wondering if you’d wanna come home with me,” he didn’t phrase it as a question, more like you’re going to come home with me. 

Immediately, you shook your head. “Oh, no. I have a boyfriend. He’s here somewhere.” 

The man’s eyes darkened, and he straightened before stepping around the chair, closer to you. You shrank back, holding your phone to your chest as you glanced towards the bar again. You could see Will’s head of curls ordering, and silently wished he’d look your way. 

“Actually,” you decided, taking another step back. “I’m gonna go find him.” 

But before you could disappear into the crowd, the man grasped your forearm tightly. Fear spiked in your chest and nausea swirled in your stomach. Where the hell was Will?

“You don’t need to find him,” he said, breathing down onto you.

“Don’t touch me,” you bit out, trying to tug your arm from his grip. But he only tightened his hold, causing you to bite down on a whimper of pain. He tugged you closer, causing you to stumble. “Seriously, let go.” 

“Come on,” the man said, beginning to walk away and pull you with him. “We can go have a bit of fun.”

“No,” you raised your voice, hoping to catch the attention of someone around you. “Stop-”

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Hey!” 

Broad shoulders and curly hair moved between you and the man, causing him to drop your arm. Will was there, and pure relief flooded your body. He set the drinks he had retrieved on the high top and stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backwards, rubbing your smarting wrist with your other hand. Your chest heaved, and you felt nauseous all over again.

The other man backed up, holding his hands in the air in surrender. 

“What’s up man,” he slurred. 

Will only stepped closer, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and pushing him back. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Will’s voice was dark, anger lacing through it. His body was tense, fists clenching at his sides. 

“What’s going on?” Another voice asked, and you turned to see Mack there, eyes darting between you, Will, and the man. His jaw clenched as he put the situation together. 

The man eyed Mack, eyes moving back to Will before taking another step back.

“Chill out, dude,” he said. “I was just saying hi.” 

“Well don’t,” Mack cut in, moving to stand beside Will so that both boys were shielding you. “Get out of here before he starts swinging.” 

And knowing Will, knowing how protective he could get over you, you knew he would swing if the man didn’t leave. 

“Fine, fuck.” The man backed away, escaping into the crowd with a shake of his head. 

Both Will and Mack turned to you. As soon as your boyfriend took one look at you, he stepped towards you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, though still vibrating with anger. But you knew it wasn’t towards you. 

You nodded shakily, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your face into the crook of his neck. 

“What’d he want?” Mack asked, wrapping you in a side hug once you pulled away from Will. 

You swallowed, unsure if you should say, knowing it would just make the boys angrier. 

“He wanted to take me home with him, I guess.” 

At your words, Will turned away, cursing under his breath as he pounded a fist onto the table. Mack eyed him before looking back at you. Absent-mindedly, you rubbed your wrist once more, and Mack watched the movement. 

“Did he hurt you?” Mack asked quietly, though loud enough for Will to whip back around and survey your body, searching for injuries. 

“He just had a strong grip. I’m okay.” 

Gently, Will grabbed your hand, running the pads of his fingers over the bruising that was blossoming on your skin. 

His jaw clenched so tightly you worried his teeth might crack, but instead of saying anything, he pulled you back to him, pressing a kiss into your hairline. 

“We should go,” Will said, eyeing the bar like it now disgusted him. 

“What?” You asked, dread blooming inside you. The last thing you had wanted was to ruin his night of celebration. “No, we don’t need to go.” 

“Baby…” Will argued, eyes searching your face. 

“I promise I’m okay. Can we just forget about it and have some more drinks? We can even play darts.” You were begging, grabbing his hand in yours, eyes wide. Somewhere deep down, you knew this wasn’t your fault, but you didn’t want to be the reason why Will’s night was destroyed. 

Mack, seemingly able to read what was on your face, nodded his head. “Yeah man, it’s your big night. Don’t let that asshole ruin it.” 

Will glanced between the two of you before nodding, and you let out a breath. He handed you your Long Island as you sat back onto your chair. But instead of moving to his own, he stayed planted right beside you, one arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

You leaned your head against him, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his neck. 

“Hey,” you said quietly. He turned towards you, eyes dark. “I’m okay.” You cupped his jaw. “I promise.” 

Will swallowed thickly. “I know, I know. But seeing his hands on you like that…” he shook his head. “It scared me.” 

You nodded, understanding spreading through your chest. But then, you gave him a small smile. “But I’m okay because my big strong boyfriend came to save me.” 

At your words, the ghost of a smile danced over his face, and the darkness cleared slightly from his eyes. You took a big swig from your drink, feeling the liquor spread over your tongue and down your throat. Immediately, your body warmed from its effects. 

“Come on,” you said, hopping to your feet. You eyed Mack from where he had sat across the table from you. “I’m going to beat both of you in darts.” 

Another hour passed, and the alcohol in your drink had officially set in. The bar tender had to come over and ask you to stop throwing darts, because he was worried about your throws going wide and hitting someone. As he walked away, your cheeks burned in embarrassment, causing both your boyfriend and Mack to burst out laughing. 

“Beat us in darts my ass,” Mack said through his laughter. You scowled at the boys, placing one hand on your hip, though you stumbled slightly. 

“You’ve never been good at it anyway,” Will laughed, and Mack–finding that absolutely hilarious in his drunken state–elbowed him, gasping for air through his cackles. 

“Oh, come on,” you pouted. “It’s not that funny.”

With a grin, Will pulled you back into his side. Ever since the incident with the man, he couldn’t stop touching you, as if he needed to make sure you were still there. 

“It’s kinda funny.” 

A few minutes later, Mack ordered an Uber to take you all back to Will’s apartment, where both you and Mack were planning to crash for the night, despite Mack’s constant whining about not getting to share a bed with Will because you would take up all the space. 

As the three of you piled into the backseat of the Uber, Will sighed, grabbing your hand and pulling it into his lap. 

“You know, I felt pretty bad ass with that guy earlier.” 

Mack hiccuped. “It was me though who scared him off.” 

The boys looked at each other, mock scowls on their faces, and you sighed. 

“No, it was the idea of me hitting him that scared him off.”

“Only cuz I said it–”

“Boys!” You cut in, raising your voice. Both Mack and Will froze, turning to you. “You both saved the day and are forever my knights in shining armour.” 

Mack, content with that label, grinned to himself.

“But, me more than him, right?” Will asked. You laughed, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“Sure, buddy.” 

Divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Sand Mermaid | Will Smith Hockey

Prompt: You and Will spend the midseason Olympic break on vacation, but after you get sun burned and need to stay in the shade, he gets bored and decides to turn you into a mermaid.

Pairing: Will Smith x girlfriend reader

Content: fluff, kissing, implications of smut if you squint

During the NHL midseason Olympic break, you and Will decided to take a trip to the Bahamas for a week. Just the two of you. No Macklin–which Will heavily complained about, even though you knew he was excited for the alone time with you–no cameras, just the two of you. 

The plane ride had been long. You never liked planes, and Will had made sure to grab your hand for take off and landing. 

And then, you were in the sunny, beautiful, beachy Bahamas. 

The two of you planned to spend all week lounging on the beach, playing in the water, and drinking fun drinks with little umbrellas popping out of them. It was, as you called it, a dream come true. 

But, Will being Will, could never sit still. While you were splayed out on a beach chair, book in hand, he was in the water, a snorkeling mask pressed to his face while he tried to “catch” fish. Every once in a while, you would join him in the waves. The two of you would tackle each other, sputtering at the salty water. Will even hoisted you into the air, only to toss you as far as he could into the water. 

Mid way through the week, you were on the beach once again. Your shoulders and tops of your thighs were bright pink with sun burn, so you’d placed yourself under an umbrella with no plans of leaving the shade. 

Will, however, didn’t seem to burn at all. He just grew tanner and tanner. And all he wanted was to drag back into the water and press salty kisses to your lips and maybe (hopefully!) see a turtle. 

But, due to resembling a tomato, you had to shut down his request. 

Will was pretending to sulk next to you, even though he had expressed concern the night before over your burns and had taken time to massage aloe vera onto your skin. 

“Okay, what if-” Will began for the ten hundredth time that day. You turned, giving him a mock look of exasperation. “Hear me out: you can just sit under the umbrella, and I’ll turn you into a sand mermaid.” 

You blinked, once, twice, looking over at the look of pure elation on your boyfriend’s face. 

“You want to cover me in sand?” 

Will nodded quickly, full of energy. 

“It’s gonna get everywhere…”

“Come on, baby, you were just saying yesterday if you were a mermaid you’d have a pink tail.” 

“Yeah, a pink tail, not one made of sand!” 

But, he did that puppy dog look he always did when he wanted something, and he knew you could never say no to it. You pressed your lips into a thin line, contemplating.

“Fine,” you groaned, setting your book down on the chair and lowering yourself onto the sand. Will jumped up, getting to work immediately. He grabbed a bucket the two of you had used the day before for sand castles and raced to the water, filling it with a mix of wet sand. 

When he came back, you were watching him with a small smile on your face. 

He wasted no time dumping the sandy mixture onto your legs before leaving again to get more. He did that for a few minutes–running, refilling, running back, dumping, and so on.

The sand felt cold and grainy against your skin, a nice escape from the heat and humidity that turned your hair frizzy. 

Finally, after Will deemed he had gathered enough sand, he squatted next to you and began shaping. His intense focus on the task amused you, and you reached out to run your sandy fingers through his wet curls. 

He smirked dangerously, shaking his hair and spraying you with droplets. 

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen,” he told you, packing the sand together. You already knew the grains would be getting under your bikini bottoms. 

“How many mermaids have you seen, exactly?” 

Deadpan, Will responded, “so many.” Then, with a small smile and a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “But, none were as pretty as you.” 

“You’re such a flirt,” you told him, but you were grinning all the same. 

Minutes later, Will sat back, wiping the sand from his hands as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Ta da!” 

You squinted at the shape now covering your legs. If you turned your head, and looked at it just right, it sort of (emphasis on sort of) resembled a mermaid tail. 

“Oh, Will,” you began. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“I know, right!” 

The both of you began to crack up, and Will leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your lips. You hummed against him, perfectly content to sit there all day. 

“In all seriousness, it’s horrendous.” Will announced, pulling away from you. 

“I don’t know,” you looked at the sand-tail again. “I might attract a handsome merman.” 

Will pulled back, a gasp of outrage escaping him. “In that case–” and then he jumped forward, throwing himself across your new tail and smothering it beneath his chest. Just like that, his masterpiece was destroyed. You felt the weight of him on your legs, despite the layers of sand separating you, but you began laughing all the same.

“You’re such an idiot,” you managed to get out between all your giggles. Will turned his head from where he was splayed across your lap to look up at you, a scowl on his face. “I was going to say we should make you a tail too.” 

Slowly, Will pushed himself off of you. “Oh.” 

“I do appreciate you saving me from all those pesky mermen though. They should know that there’s only one man I want.” 

Will stood, pulling you to your feet with him. Sand clung to your skin everywhere as it fell away. 

“Yeah, it’s what big strong boyfriends do.” Will grabbed your hips, pulling you against him as he grinned down at you. You wrapped your arms around his bare chest, pulling him closer as he leaned down to kiss you. His lips were soft, yet somehow sandy, and you pulled away, spluttering at the grittiness in your mouth.

“Ugh, you need to wash off, you’re all sandy,” you told him, stepping out of his grasp. 

“I’m all sandy? Look at yourself!” Will threw his hands in the air, gesturing wildly towards your legs. 

“Well, it’s not my fault,” you argued, but he was already moving. He bent down, hoisted you over his shoulder, and took off towards the water, running faster than you thought possible. 

You screeched, your hands flying to his back to stop yourself from bumping around. 

“WILLIAM! I swear to god if you dump me in that water–”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Suddenly, you were flying through the air and splashing into the waves, salt water covering every inch of you. 

Strong hands gripped your waist, pulling you to your feet and into the air as you spluttered and gasped. With one hand, you rubbed your wet hair out of your face. Once you could see again, you saw Will standing before you, grinning devilishly in that way that usually made your insides heat. Not this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the rest of the day,” you told him before stomping through the waves towards the shore. 

“What?” Will’s voice jumped an octave. “Don’t say that,” he pleaded. 

You turned, looking at him calculatingly. “Hmm. Fine.” 

Will pumped a fist in the air. “I knew you’d change your mind.” 

“But,” you told him, putting a hand against his chest to keep him from leaning in for a kiss. “When we get back to the room, you’re making it up to me.” 

Will’s eyes darkened, and despite yourself, your toes curled in the sand. 

“Deal.” 

After that, the two of you packed your things quickly, laughing at each other in your race to get back to the suite.

Divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Always Been Home

request: could you do a fic of connor and reader meeting? being friends at first and everyone can see they like eachother but they’re oblivious until one night out together after a game win they both finally realize

pairing: connor bedard x f!reader

content: some cursing, fluff, probably bad hockey play by play i'm just not smooth with it, cutie little revelations

wc: 2.9k

a/n: thank you for this request! i strayed away from it a little, but the heart of it is the same! i hope you love it. i kinda do! also, so sorry for taking FOREVER to get to this. i'm a big mood writer lol

You’d been in love with your best friend for years. 

You’d never addressed it, always assuming that it would fade away as the two of you got older. 

But now, he was the face of the NHL, a star player for the Blackhawks. 

When he’d moved from Vancouver to Chicago, you thought that finally, the distance would help you move on. 

Except it hadn’t. 

Except, he was plastered all over social media.

Except, he still texted and called you like he still lived next door. 

Except, you were so hopelessly in love with him that not even 2000 miles could make it go away. 

And everyone knew it too.

Well, everyone besides Connor. 

All your mutual friends kept insisting that you should just talk to him. Just tell him how you felt, because they all swore that he felt the same. 

You weren’t sure they were right. 

But now, you were sitting on a plane at the O’Hare airport, waiting for the plane to finish taxiing so that you could get off and finally see Connor.

It had been months since he was last home for the off season. You hadn’t seen him in person since the day you waved goodbye for the third time as he disappeared into Vancouver's airport. 

It was his third season on the Blackhawks, and while his NHL journey hadn’t started the way he had hoped, he was still killing it on the ice. 

A month ago, he’d called to ask if you’d want to visit Chicago. Stay at his place for a long weekend, see the game. He said he’d pay for the flight and everything. 

You couldn’t say no. 

And now you were there, in Chicago, nearly bouncing in your seat from your eagerness to see him. 

Finally, the plane began to unload and you opened your phone, reading through your previous messages with Connor quickly. 

You: just landed!

Con: thank god. can’t wait to see you

That particular message had made your heart swell.

Con: I’m here, text me when you’re off the plane and I’ll bring the car around.

The exchange brought a small smile to your face, a certain giddiness racing through you.

Before you knew it, your aisle was standing. You stepped out, grabbing your carry on bag from the overhead bin and placing it down in front of you before exiting the plane. 

Just as expected, O’Hare was packed. You weaved through people racing every which way to make it to their flights, following the signs towards the exit, and then towards the pick up line. 

As you stepped into the harsh Chicago winds of November, you saw him almost immediately. He was pulling his Hyundai up to the curb, not even really paying attention to where he was going. His eyes were on you.

A large, breathtaking smile split his face and then you were moving, pulling your suitcase behind you as you nearly ran towards him.

He clambered out of the car, rounding the front and then he was there, in front of you.

Neither of you wasted any time before you were throwing your arms around each other. 

And it felt like you were home.

His strong arms circled your back, pulling you into his chest. Your face pressed against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You’re here,” he spoke, his words muffled into your skin and hair.

You nodded. “I’m here.”

The car ride passed quickly. It was like there hadn’t been months and miles of distance between you since your last interaction. Every time you saw him, it was like everything fell back into place. 

When you walked into his apartment, you froze, nearly choking on your own spit.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you teased, giving Connor a look before stepping further into the space. 

Because it might have been the nicest apartment you’d ever seen. 

Of course it was. He was making nearly a million dollars a year in his first three years of playing for the NHL. Of course, he’d have a place that was beyond nice. 

And it was clean too, which made your heart warm. He’d cleaned up for you.

“Impresive, right?” Connor joked, brushing past you, pulling your suitcase behind him. You nearly stiffened at his touch, at how it made your stomach feel like it was going to take off into outer space. “I set up the guest room for you, if that’s okay?” 

You nodded, swallowing the disappointment that soured your mouth.

Get over yourself, of course he’d set up the guest room for you. What did you expect? To share his bed?

“Perfect,” you smiled, the lie rolling off your tongue easily. 

“Frank is coming over in a bit,” Connor continued, not noticing your hesitance. “He’s been insisting on meeting you.” For a moment, Connor looked pained. “He’s a bit of an idiot, so don’t believe anything he says.” 

Frank Nazar, Connor’s best friend on the Blackhawks. He had reached out to you on social media a few months ago, claiming that he’d heard so much about you from Connor that he practically already knew you. After that, the two of you texted back and forth quite a bit. You’d grown quite fond of him and his willingness to make fun of Connor. 

“Oh good, making fun of you by myself isn’t nearly as fun,” you smirked. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’m sure I will,” Connor grumbled.

After you had settled in and changed out of your travel clothes, Connor’s front door burst open with a clatter, causing the two of you to jump from where you’d been sitting on the couch. 

“Oh god,” Connor groaned.

“Honey, I’m home!” Came a cheer, and then Frank was launching himself onto the couch, nearly landing on top of you. A shriek of laughter escaped you as you rolled to the side to escape Frank’s flailing limbs.

“Hi, Frankie,” you grinned. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Frank sat up, his hair a mess, a bright grin on his face. “I wasn’t entirely sure you were real.”

Connor rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Of course she’s real.” 

“Because,” Frank continued, ignoring him, “he seems like the type of guy to make up a girl to seem cooler.” 

You smirked, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated. 

“I’m getting a drink,” Connor muttered, standing from the couch and retreating into the kitchen. 

“Please tell me you have embarrassing stories of tween Connor.” Frank begged.

Your grin was bright. “Duh. I came loaded with them.”

“I knew I was going to like you.” Frank folded his hands behind his head. “But first, put the poor boy out of his misery and tell him you love him already.” 

Your jaw dropped, your heart jumping into your throat. Your face turned the color of a nice tomato, and you suddenly wanted to escape into the guest room and bury yourself beneath the blankets with the door locked. 

“I’m sorry?” You choked out, sitting up straight. 

Frank, not seeming to notice your sudden panic, nodded. “Yeah, he’s, like, head over heels for you and it’s honestly killing me to hear him talk about it so much.” 

“I don’t think that’s right.” 

“Well, he’s literally said it to me so–”

“What are you guys talking about?” Connor’s voice broke through, causing Frank to snap his mouth shut. He was carrying a bottle of Gatorade. 

“How you guys are going to win your game tonight,” you said easily, willing your face to cool down. 

“I kind of thought so too,” Connor sat down next to you, his knee brushing against your thigh. “We’ve been sweeping Utah out of the water.” 

A little while later, the two of them left to head to the United Center, dressed in slacks and dress shirts. 

You made yourself comfortable on the couch, curling into the cushions, playing Frank’s words over and over in your head. 

If Frank was right, why hadn’t Connor said anything? 

But that wasn’t fair, because it wasn’t as if you had said anything either…

But, on the off chance that Frank was right, what would happen? You lived in Vancouver. Connor spent all of his time in Chicago or on the road. 

You shook your head, not allowing yourself to think about things that would never happen. Instead, you got up to get ready for the game.

You walked into the guest room to get dressed only to see that Connor had laid out one of his jersey’s for you to wear. 

A small smile tugged at your lips, your heart swelling. 

Two hours later, you were sitting rink side in the seat that Connor had got for you, wearing his jersey. The Blackhawks had just swept out onto the ice for warm ups, and fans had swarmed the glass with signs, begging for a puck, a wave, anything. 

But Connor was skating towards you, a bright grin on his face. 

“Hi.” He mouthed.

Your own grin was instinct, something natural. “Hey.” You mouthed back.

He tapped his glove on the glass a few times, winked, and then skated off. You looked down to hide the blush that was definitely present on your cheeks and the bright smile that you couldn’t seem to make disappear. 

The first period of the game was rough. The Blackhawks didn’t quite seem to have their act together.

In the second period, things seemed to change. They were suddenly skating like a team again, passing seamlessly. Nearly two minutes in, Connor shot a puck straight into the back of your net. 

You shrieked, jumping to your feet, shooting your hands into the air. The buzzer sounded, fans jumping up all over the arena. You pounded your hands against the glass, eyes locked onto Connor as his teammates surrounded him in a quick celebration.

And then his eyes found yours, alight with the excitement of the game. It was times like these when you could really see just how much he loved hockey. 

He was shining like he was on fire, like he was a star shooting across the galaxy. 

He was beautiful. 

In the third period, Frank scored, causing Chicago to be tied with Utah. One more goal, that was all they needed. 

And they got it. Bertuzzi to Bedard, straight into the net. 

The arena erupted. The Blackhawks poured onto the ice. You were jumping up and down, cheering in pure elation. 

Blackhawks win against Utah Mammoths, 3-2. 

You moved quickly, grabbing your purse and your badge that Connor had given you saying that you had permission to go under the stands to the locker rooms and flashed it at the security. They let you through with bright smiles, giddy at the win. 

And you were too. 

You nearly ran through the hallway towards the locker room to see the Blackhawks trailing in, thumping each other on the back, jumping around and laughing. 

And then you saw Connor, his helmet under his arm, his face bright off of the high of the win.

His eyes locked on yours. 

You both moved at the same time. 

Neither one of you hesitated as the world fell away.

You jumped into him, his helmet clattering to the ground as his arms came around your waist. 

When he kissed you, it was the best feeling in the entire world. 

He groaned into your mouth as you clutched his shoulders tighter, pulling him closer. 

It was everything you’d thought it would be. Everything and more. 

Connor was sweaty, his muscles tired, still wearing his padding and jersey. But none of it mattered, because you were there, kissing him, celebrating him.

A cheer broke through the haze and you pulled away slightly, your eyes fluttering open as the tip of your nose brushed his. 

“Y/n,” his voice was ragged as his chest heaved for air. You nodded, understanding all the words he was trying to say.

Is this real? Is this happening? 

You pulled away further, unwinding your arms from around his neck. He had yet to let go as his eyes searched yours. 

“Go,” you nodded towards the locker room, trying to smother the absolute ecstasy flowing through you. “I’ll wait here.” 

“We need to talk,” he insisted, withdrawing his arms. You missed his touch almost immediately. “When I’m done.” 

You nodded. Then he slipped away, clenching his fists, shaking his head, disappearing into the locker room. 

Frank stood at the end of the hallway, smirking. “Told you.” 

You heaved in a gasp of air, brushing a hand through your hair before bringing your shaking finger tips to your lips.

Did that really just happen?

Waiting for Connor to finish up his post-game necessities felt like the hardest thing you had ever done. 

What if the kiss was just a spur of the moment, adrenaline-forced, decision? What if he was regretting it? What if what he wanted to talk about was how he didn’t actually feel anything for you and had just been caught up in the moment? 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you rested against the wall. 

Briefly, you considered leaving. Finding an Uber and racing back to his apartment, grabbing your suitcase and getting on the first flight back to Vancouver. 

No. 

Even if he didn’t feel the same, you needed to tell him how you felt. It had been too long, too many years, of you hiding it from him.

The players began to trickle out of the locker room, all of them casting amused glances your way as the exited the facility. 

Your stomach churned. 

Finally, Connor walked out, wearing sweats and a Blackhawks hoodie and looking way too good for having just played an NHL game. 

Honestly, it was unfair. 

Your heart stuttered as his eyes found you. A brief flash of relief filled his eyes and then he was crossing the hallway in quick strides towards you. 

He stopped just before reaching you, his hands hovering like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. 

“You’re still here.” He said it like a statement, but you heard the question in his words.

You nodded. “I’m still here.” You felt as if you were going to throw up. 

“We need to talk, but not here.” He began moving towards the exit and you nodded again, stepping to catch up. 

You wanted to reach out and grab his hand, let his touch cement you. 

But everything felt different now. Could you touch him like you once did? 

A few minutes later, you climbed into his passenger seat as he climbed into the driver's side. 

He turned towards you, eyes hesitant.

“Listen, I–”

“I’m in love with you!” You blurted before he could finish what he was saying. Then, your eyes widened, and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Fuck.” 

Connor’s eyes widened, mirroring yours. “What?” His brows drew together, his eyes racing over your face. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “Uh.” You swallowed painfully. “I’m in love with you.” 

Silence. 

“But, if you don’t feel the same way, or, like, think I’m crazy, that’s okay. I don’t expect you to, but I felt like I should tell you. Because that kiss meant everything to me and if it didn’t mean everything to you than we probably shouldn’t do it again and-”

“Stop.” His voice cut through your panic, causing you to slam your mouth shut. He was almost smiling now, amused relief in his eyes. “I’m in love with you too.”

Your jaw dropped. “Sorry?” 

He laughed, throwing his head back. You suddenly felt sick all over again. 

He seemed so relieved, carefree, utterly happy. You did that? Your love for him did that?

“What’s happening?” You whispered, eyes wide. 

“We’re idiots,” Connor grinned, shaking his head. 

“Uh,” you cut in. “Can you please explain what’s going on?” Your eyes were flitting over his face, searching him. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

“I’ve loved you since I first saw you,” Connor’s voice softened, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Suddenly, it was very difficult to breathe. 

“Really?” You asked, feeling unsure. “Like, actually?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Really.” 

“I moved next door to you when we were ten.” You whispered, heart nearly stopping in your chest. 

He nodded. 

“That was ten years ago.” 

He nodded again. 

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” 

You swallowed. “I’ve loved you since then too. I think I might have been born to love you.” 

Connor’s cheeks flushed, but his eyes were shining. 

“Yeah, we’re idiots,” you agreed, a small, unbelieving huff of laughter escaping you. “How could we let it go this long?” 

You felt tears prick at the backs of your eyes. You wanted to throw your arms around him and hold on and never let go. Because ten years was an incredible length of time to love someone in silence. 

Now, you could love him out loud. If he wanted you to. 

When he leaned across the center console and kissed you, it didn’t feel like the fireworks that all the romance stories described.

No. It felt like an all consuming wildfire, impossible to put out. 

It felt like coming home, which made sense. 

Connor had always been home to you.

[abbydianereads]

Curtain Call | Connor Bedard

prompt: Nick Foligno drags Connor to see Hadestown after the Blackhawks get sent tickets, due to Connor's lack of knowledge about anything that doesn't surround hockey. What Connor didn't expect was to see you on stage, and to be utterly consumed.

pairing: Connor Bedard x theater f!reader

content: Hadestown references, theater vocab, awkward Connor, but he's also low key obsessed?, fluff

wc: 2.3k

a/n: is this niche? maybe. i've been so obsessed with the idea of Connor seeing a musical and falling in love with the female lead, so here we are. Also, I know Nick isn't captain anymore :((( I miss him though, so let's all pretend

Connor hadn’t been to many theater performances. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d even been to one. But when Nick texted to say that the Blackhawks had been sent a few tickets and invited to the show Hadestown at the CIBC Theater, Connor wasn’t sure it was an event he could get out of.

Nick was always going on about how shameful it was that Connor knew almost nothing about anything that didn’t somewhat resolve around hockey. It looked like the Blackhawks captain was finally getting his chance to show Connor some culture. 

That was how he ended up just a few rows away from the stage, wearing navy dress pants and a black dress shirt. Nick sat to one side of him, flipping through his Playbill. Frank sat on the other, playing Block Blast on his phone as they waited for the show to begin. 

“I still can’t believe they invited us,” Nick said, setting the program on his lap. “This show is supposed to be amazing.” 

“What is it even about?” Connor asked, his fingers fidgeting. “Is it boring?” 

“Dude, it’s Greek Mythology,” Nick rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you learn anything in school?” 

“Like Percy Jackson?” Frank cut in, picking up his head from his game. 

Nick rolled his eyes again. 

A few moments later, the theater lights dimmed, and the show began. 

And there you were, dressed in a ratty coat, ripped tights, and a black slip dress. Your skin seemed to glow, your hair pulled back to show your face. 

Connor’s mouth parted. 

You might have been the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—until you started singing, and then he wasn’t sure how anything else could compare.

He was enraptured, leaning forward in his seat as your character fell in love with Orpheus. His eyes followed you as you moved about the stage. He found himself clenching his fists as the Fates ripped your coat from your body. 

The way you moved on stage made everything else feel secondary.

When intermission began, he hadn’t yet taken his eyes off the stage, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. 

“You good?” Frank asked, elbowing his best friend. 

Connor blinked, shaking his head lightly. “That girl, the one playing… fuck, what’s her name?” 

“Uh,” Frank scratched his head. “They’re all kinda hard to remember.” 

“Eurydice.” Nick helped, giving both boys an annoyed look. “Honestly, it’s not that hard.” 

“Yes,” Connor said quickly. “She’s incredible.”

Nick made a small sound like he was trying not to laugh. 

Frank gave them both an odd look. “I mean, they’re all fine. I’m confused about-”

“Shut up, Frank,” both Connor and Nick muttered. 

A few minutes later, the lights dimmed once more. Connor straightened in his seat, causing Nick to smirk. 

He leaned over, “you think she’s more than incredible, don’t you?” 

Connor didn’t take his eyes off the stage, fully prepared for the show to resume. He didn’t want to miss a second. “She’s beautiful.” 

Nick hummed thoughtfully but wasn’t able to say anything else as the show began once more.

Just like before, Connor found himself lost in your performance. At one point, you were singing Eurydice’s solo, knelt at the front of the stage, pure pain and longing on your face. Your performance and voice alone seemed to transport Connor into a different world. 

He sucked in a breath when you briefly made eye contact.

And then, at the end, when Orpheus turned and you were sent back to Hadestown, Connor had to blink rapidly to keep his eyes from tearing up. 

During the curtain call, the audience rose to their feet, clapping thunderously. Nick had to pull Connor out of his trance, encouraging him to stand and clap as well. When you came to take your bow, your eyes locked with his once more, and you smiled softly. The theater's volume crescendoed as you bowed, your hair slipping into your face. 

The light in your eyes at curtain call was something Connor had seen before in himself—after a goal, after a hat trick—but never quite like that.

The cast and crew disappeared backstage, the lights came on, the audience began to trickle out. But Connor was still standing there, staring at the wing you’d exited through. 

“Someone is supposed to meet us here to give us a backstage tour,” Nick muttered, glancing at the email on his phone. “I’m not sure when, or–”

“We get to go backstage?” Connor finally tore his eyes from the stage to turn to Nick. “Do we get to meet them?” 

“Down, boy,” Frank joked. “I’m pretty sure we’ll see some of the actors.” 

A few moments later, the actor playing Orpheus, now dressed in street clothes, was weaving through the seats towards them.

“Hey guys,” he stuck his hand out for them to shake. “It’s an honor for you to be here. I’m a big fan.” 

Nick and the actor exchanged a few pleasantries. 

“I’m supposed to give you the tour. Originally it was gonna be someone else, but when I heard you guys would be here I volunteered to do it.” And with that, he led the three hockey players through the theater, through a set of doors, and into a hallway. 

“I’ll show you the dressing rooms first. Most of the cast will still be here if you want to meet any,” the man said, giving them a smile. 

Connor’s heart jumped into his throat, blood racing in his ears. 

“Oh, Connor would love to meet–”

Connor elbowed Frank quickly, shooting him a glare. 

The actor just smiled, glancing between the two of them.

He took them into a hallway beneath the stage where doors lined each side. He knocked on the first one, opening it and peering into the room beyond. 

“Y/n? Do you wanna meet the Blackhawks players I was telling you about?” 

“Yeah! Just one second…” 

Connor stilled at the familiar voice. Because it was yours, he’d nearly memorized its sound from when you’d been performing. 

A rustling sound was heard from your dressing room, and Connor felt like the hallway was shrinking. 

Connor didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing until Nick shifted, bumping him lightly as if to say, don’t be an idiot. 

A second later, you stepped into the doorway, a used makeup wipe in hand. You’d taken your hair down, and it tumbled freely down your back. You had changed from your costume into a pair of sweat pants and a matching tank top. 

Without the stage makeup, without the distance of the stage between you and the audience, you looked real in a way that made Connor’s brain stutter.  

And then your eyes landed on him.

It wasn’t dramatic. No spotlight, no music swell. Just you. 

Just a pause, like you recognized something in him too. 

“Oh,” you gave a small smile, your eyes finally moving off Connor to flick over Nick and Frank. But then they landed back on Connor, and your smile seemed to soften even further. “Hi.” 

“They watched the show tonight,” the actor said, gesturing towards them. 

Nick stepped forward, offering a hand towards you. “Hi, yeah, the show was great.” 

You took his hand, shaking it with a smile. “I’m glad you liked it!” 

Frank nodded. “Yeah, uh, really good.” At his words, your smile seemed to grow. 

And then it was Connor’s turn. Connor didn’t move right away, his brain scrambling for something, anything. Nick’s brows pinched together, like he was begging Connor to say something normal. 

But Connor’s attention was stuck on you, noticing how your voice felt softer off stage. More like you, and less like the character you had played. 

Finally, Connor stepped forward, offering his hand. You gripped it immediately, eyes locking onto his, your hand soft yet firm in his. 

And warm, so warm and all encompassing. 

“Hi,” he said, and then immediately regretted it. Because it didn’t feel like enough for what he was trying to say. 

Your touch was solid and centering, a sensation that was so at odds with the chaos in his chest. Up close, Connor could see the faint traces of makeup you had missed while wiping it off. Little pieces of Eurydice that he thought clung to your skin like stardust. 

“Hi,” you echoed, like you were saying it specifically for him. And then, “I think I saw you.”

“You- you did?” Connor had never felt like such a bumbling idiot in his life. 

Your smile widened. “Yeah. Three, maybe four, rows back? You were…” your eyebrows drew together as you thought of the word you wanted to use. Connor thought that it was adorable. “You were really focused.” 

Behind him, Frank made a soft, strangled sound like he was trying to hold in his laughter. 

Connor ignored him.

“I was,” he admitted. 

That seemed to amuse you. Not in a mocking way–more like you were pleasantly surprised that someone would say something so honest. 

Neither one of you had let go. Your hand still felt soft in his. 

“I’m glad,” your smile was genuine. “It’s a long show, people don’t always stay with it.” 

“I stayed with it,” Connor said immediately. Then, he flushed slightly at the intensity in which the words poured from his mouth. 

Nick, watching the entire exchange unfold, cleared his throat like he was witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to.

You glanced at him briefly, then back to Connor.

“What did you think?” 

Connor’s mouth opened and closed. 

Because there were a lot of answers. He was blown away by the way you were able to sound when everything was falling apart, by the way that you had clung to every little bit of hope, even when it had been stripped away. 

“I didn’t know people could do that,” he finally admitted.

You paused. “Do what?” Your voice was quiet, maybe even a little unsure. 

Connor didn’t hesitate before saying, “make it feel like that.” 

For a moment, everything around the two of you seemed to fall away. Neither one of you noticed the looks that Frank and Nick were shooting at each other, or how Orpheus’s actor had begun fidgeting with his sleeves, or the thud of the stage crew resetting the props. 

You felt completely swallowed up in Connor’s gaze. Your eyes were the only things that Connor could look at. 

Then, you smiled. “That’s kind of the nicest thing anyone has said to me.” 

Connor’s ears warmed, his cheeks flushing. “It is?” 

“Yeah,” you said simply. “Usually I get a “great show,” and then people leave.” 

Connor frowned at that, like the idea didn’t sit right. “That’s… not enough.” 

That made you laugh softly, eyes sparkling. “No?” 

“Why don’t we continue the tour, and you guys can stay here and chat?” Nick finally cut in, popping the bubble that had grown around you and Connor. 

Connor went to nod, and then looked at you, waiting. Your cheeks warmed when you realized he was checking to see if that was something you wanted. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you nodded.

With amused glances–and a pointed look from Nick–the three disappeared down the hallway, leaving just you and Connor. 

“Do you want to see my dressing room?” You asked tentatively, watching his face closely for any reaction.

Connor’s nod was immediate, causing your smile to bloom. You turned, pushing your way back through the door. Connor was at your back, eyes following you as you moved.

Inside the room, you had countless letters taped to the edges of your mirror. Letters from friends, tabloid reviews, fan mail. Things that helped give you confidence before you poured your heart out on stage.

The vanity was cluttered with makeup, a spare pair of tights, skin care, anything that you might need.

“This is where the magic happens,” you said jokingly, smiling at Connor in the mirror. He was looking around, really taking it all in. 

You couldn't deny how handsome he was—broad shoulders, dark clothes, and eyes that seemed to take in every little thing.

Eyeing the letters on your mirror, Connor asked, “Do you still get nervous?” 

“Of performing?”

He nodded.

“Every night.” The admission came easier than you expected. Because, if anything, it seemed like he would understand. 

“Don’t you?” You returned, turning fully to look at him head on. 

He didn’t shy away when he said, “every game.” 

He got it—the way you gave pieces of yourself away every night to a room full of strangers and hoped they'd hold them gently. To the show, the music, the audience. It wasn’t so different than stepping onto the ice; how it felt like the approval of the entire city of Chicago sat on his shoulders. 

Slowly, you stepped forward. “I could show you a few more musicals. If you wanted.” 

Connor wasn’t able to take his eyes away from yours. “I’d like that.” 

You grabbed your phone from the vanity, unlocking it and handing it over to him. “Add your number then.” 

He typed in his number and name before handing it back.

Connor Bedard.

You grinned. “I guess I’ll have to pick a good one.” 

“A good what?” Connor asked, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he looked down at you.

“A good musical. Can’t scare you off too soon.” 

Connor laughed, the sound filling the small dressing room. Your cheeks warmed.

“Hey!” A shout was heard from the hallway, causing both of you to pause. It was Nick. “Connor! Are we leaving you here, or what?” 

Connor glanced back at you. “You’ll text me?” 

You nodded, a pretty blush filling your cheeks. “I will.” 

Connor’s smile was more calm, reassured. “Good,” he said quietly, like he believed you.

And then he was slipping into the hallway, his heart racing in his chest. Somewhere behind him, you started humming one of the songs from the show.

Connor smiled all the way back down the hall.

[abbydianereads]

Summer Lovin'

request: hiiiii could you write about you and connor going camping together? maybe hiking or finding a lake, and then back at the campsite at night and just being together?? with summer coming up i’ve been obsessed with the idea of connor seeing you swim or hike in a cute bikini or a cute work out fit ☺️

pairing: connor bedard x gf! reader

content: camping, swimming, pure fluff, connor is SO down bad, but so are you

wc: 1.8k

a/n: thank you for the request! i've been really feeling the summer vibes lately, so this was perfect. i had so much fun with it, and i hope you love it!

Growing up, you’d gone on countless camping trips with your family. And it hadn’t ever been in an RV or cabin. No, your dad had demanded that you sleep on cots in tents for an entire week. When you were younger, you’d complain. You’d rather sleep in your own bed than on a rickety, stiff cot. 

But now, looking back, they were some of your favorite memories from your childhood.

That’s why, when Connor asked if you’d want to go on a camping trip, you jumped at the opportunity. 

You had amused him with your weeks of research and planning, finding the best camp grounds, the most beautiful hikes. What felt like every day, you were sending him links to new places to check out, making lists of everywhere you wanted to visit. 

Unfortunately, in your excitement, you made lists so long and extensive that you couldn’t possibly get to all of them in one week, but you just reassured Connor that you would have to take many camping trips, instead of just one. 

When the time finally came, you loaded up the car with the tent, an airmattress, a week’s supply of groceries, all the hiking equipment you could get your hands on, and the duffle bags full of clothes.

With one brow cocked, Connor surveyed the overflowing trunk. “You think we have enough?” 

You slapped his shoulder playfully, but continued to bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Connor, this is going to be the best week ever.” 

Connor was amused by your excitement, but if possible, it caused his love for you to grow even more. He’d heard your stories from camping when you were little, and while he’d never camped much, he could tell how happy those trips had made you. When he suggested the trip, he wanted to give himself a little pat on the back at the way that your eyes lit up. 

As the two of you climbed into the car and began the drive out of the city, your heart was racing with excitement. You’d found an amazing spot up near Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan. It was about a five hour drive, but your excitement didn’t die once. 

You kept picturing the towering dunes, the sweeping sand, the hikes disappearing into the foliage nearby, the bright blue of Lake Michigan. Needless to say, you were ecstatic. 

You and Connor spent the drive up switching between different playlists, slugging each other every time you saw a VW Beatle, pointing out different billboards, and eventually, you fell asleep while Connor continued to drive. 

When you finally got there, you couldn’t help but feel content at the feeling of the sun beating down on your cheeks. The wind rippled off the lake, cooling your skin just enough for the weather to be perfect. 

You looked at Connor, eyes glowing, and he found himself momentarily out of breath at how beautiful you looked. 

The way that the heat brought a subtle flush to your skin, and how your hair floated in the wind… he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. 

The two of you had spent the next hour setting up the tent and getting everything in order, and by the time you were done, you were aching to change into your bikini, run down the dunes, and submerge yourself in the lake.

Connor couldn’t argue with the look of pure joy on your face, so he followed your lead, changing into his swim trunks. 

You giggled at the sight of the hockey sticks decorating the fabric of his swim suit. 

“You just can’t get away from it, can you,” you teased, pecking a kiss on his cheek. 

His face flushed slightly, something he did rarely, and always around you. It caused your heart to swell. 

When the two of you had reached the top of one of the dunes, you both paused, taking in the view. The lake was rippling and sparkling in the sunlight, and you could smell the water, even hundreds of feet above it. 

“You know, if we go down, we’ll have to climb back up,” Connor warned, eyeing the steep slope. You just grinned, clapping your hands excitedly. 

“That’s part of the fun, Con,” you encouraged. And then, grabbing his hand in yours, you began the run down the dunes, giggling at the bouncy nature. 

Connor was laughing next to you, watching you more than he was watching his own steps. Sand kept flying up to spray your legs, but you didn’t stop. 

When you reached the bottom, your legs burned from the descent. You immediately waded into the lake, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool temperature. 

Connor stood back for a moment, admiring the way that your bikini hugged your curves. The color of the fabric brought out the color of your eyes. You looked as if you were glowing. It was times like this when he wondered how he had gotten so lucky. 

“Connie, come on!” You called before ducking under the waves. He laughed, hurrying out to meet you. When you came back up for air, he wrapped his arms around you and tugged you to his chest, causing you to let out a shriek of laughter. 

The sounds of his own laughter met your ears, and it was one of your favorite sounds in the entire world. 

“You’re attacking me!” You accused, giggling as he swung you around in the water. 

“Am not.”

“Connor!” You laughed as he finally relented, setting you down on your feet. But, the peace didn’t last long. Not even two seconds later, you were splashing water in his face, soaking his skin and hair. 

Laughter bubbled in your throat as you looked at him. He slowly opened his eyes, wiping the water away with his hand. 

“Did you splash me?” He asked, looking at you with that intensity he had on the ice. 

You squeezed your lips together to avoid smiling. “Nope.”

His jaw dropped. “Baby.” 

“No evidence! None, nada, zilch.” 

Connor shook his head, droplets of water flying out and landing on your face. A slow smirk was spreading across his face. You knew that look.

Slowly, cautiously, as if to not awaken a sleeping bear, you took one step back, the sand squishing between your feet. 

Then another.

And another.

And then you were picking up speed, hightailing it for the shore. But the sand was loose beneath your feet, and slipped out from beneath you. You went careening sideways, flapping your arms as if that would stop you from toppling over.

And then, before you could hit the water, Connor’s strong arms were wrapped around you once more. He pulled you flush against his chest, twisting around and lifting so that your feet flew out of the water.

“Got ya,” you could feel him smile where his face was pressed against your hair.

“You big hunk of-”

Your words were cut off as he tossed you into the water. 

An hour later, after you’d finished the harrowing climb back up the dunes, you and Connor were sprawled on the air mattress in your tent. Your hair was still slightly damp from the lake, the humidity in the air causing it to frizz. 

You turned your head, looking over at Connor, who was laying with his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell softly, in time with yours, as if the two of you had subconsciously linked up. 

“Con,” you whispered, poking him in the side. You felt his muscles flex against your finger in reflex. He opened one eye to squint at you, which made a small smile grow on your face. 

“If you say that you want to go hiking after that climb, then I-”

“I want to go hiking,” you interrupted, your grin growing as he began to moan his complaints. He mumbled something about that climb being enough hiking to last him the rest of his life, and how his shoulders were already pink from the sun, and something along the lines of I hate camping before picking himself up off the mattress.

You jumped up in joy, smiling brightly as you shouted in conquest. 

“You just can’t say no to me, can you.” 

Connor rolled his eyes. “You make it incredibly hard.” 

You just laughed, smacking his ass softly as you squeezed around him to grab your backpack. You pulled out a folder, and he raised one eyebrow, looking at you with bemused amusement. 

“Tell me you didn’t print maps.” 

“I didn’t print maps,” you answered. Connor just looked at you skeptically. “I printed spreadsheets!” 

Did the spreadsheets have maps on them? Yes. Did Connor need to know that? Not at all. 

He just grinned softly, looking at you with a sort of fond expression that made your stomach flutter. 

“Come on, hiking queen. Let’s get going.” 

The hike was as beautiful as you’d imagined it would be. Even Connor seemed to relax in the wilderness where the pressure of hockey and media wasn’t around every corner. You took as many pictures as you could, and were overjoyed when a passing hiker offered to take a picture of the two of you. 

Connor grumbled in annoyance, but later, when you looked at the photo, you saw that he had the biggest grin on his face as he watched you. 

That night, when the stars had come out, the two of you sat on the ground. Connor was leaning against the tire of your car, head tilted up to see the sky. You pressed your back against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked up as well. His fingers were mindlessly playing with the ends of your hair. 

“It’s beautiful,” you commented, feeling lost in the absolute vastness of the stars above. In the city, you could never see stars, not even on the clearest of nights. But out here, where there was little to no light pollution, you could see hundreds. 

“Yeah,” Connor agreed. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Immediately, you began to blush, which was something that did not go unnoticed. 

“You’re blushing,” Connor teased, poking your cheek with his finger. You shoved his hand away, grinning. 

“Shut up.” 

Grinning, he grabbed your chin lightly, tilting your head so that he could press a kiss to your lips. And even though you’d been dating for a while now, his kisses still made your heart skip.

Later, the two of you lay tangled on the airmattress, sleep tugging at both of you. Connor had one arm thrown around your waist, tugging you against his chest so you couldn’t escape. Not that you wanted to. His nose was buried in the back of your neck, and every breath he released seemed to lull you further towards sleep. 

“You were right,” he mumbled, his voice vibrating against your skin. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, just barely awake enough to hear him. 

“Best trip ever.” 

You had to agree with that.

[abbydianereads]

Birthday Girl

prompt: it's your 21st birthday, and you decide to spend it in Chicago. At one bar, you catch the eye of Connor Bedard and do something you wouldn't normally do: talk to him.

pairing: connor bedard x reader

content: alcohol, drinking, bar hopping, flirting, fluff

wc: 1.7k

a/n: college has been absolutely crazy and I haven't had any time to write, but I've had some time to dabble this week! hope you enjoy <3

The bar in Downtown Chicago was packed, teeming with people all eager to start the weekend off the right way. The summer air from outside drifted in through the constant opening of the door, making the space feel hot and heavy. 

Yet, you didn’t care. 

You’d been planning this weekend for months. You’d saved your money, bought a new dress, booked a hotel room. It was your twenty-first birthday, and all you’d wanted to do was bar hop in Chicago with your friends. 

And, you were having an absolute blast. 

You’d started the night with dinner and cocktails at the Cheese Cake Factory, which had always been your favorite. Since then, you’d been in and out of three other bars, having one drink at each place. The last bar you’d stopped in had heard you talking about your birthday, and the bartender gave you a free round of shots. 

It was a great night.

Alcohol now thrummed through your system, causing you to wobble slightly as you danced in the packed space. A giggle escaped your lips and you grabbed your drink, taking another sip. 

“Hey, birthday girl,” one of your friends said, grabbing your attention. She was smirking and looking over your shoulder. “You have an admirer.” 

You turned your head, following her gaze to see that she was right. A guy with a mop of brown hair was smiling at you faintly, watching as you danced in place. 

“You should go talk to him,” one of your other friends encouraged, grinning to herself. “It’s your birthday, babes. You can literally do anything you want.” 

You smiled at her, nerves collecting in your stomach as you looked back to the guy. This time, the two of you made eye contact, causing the corner of his mouth to drift higher, like he was fighting a smile. 

“He is cute,” you mused, turning back to your friends, still unsure. Cute was an understatement. The man was hot. 

Normally, you would have never walked up to a guy on a night out. You’d been to a couple eighteen and over clubs, and had always settled for watching from the sidelines. 

But your friends were right. This was your night. 

“Okay,” you agreed, quickly chugging the rest of your drink and then setting the empty glass down on the table with a thud. 

Your friends cheered, causing you to laugh softly as you turned to walk over to him. He was still watching, and one eyebrow raised at the sight of you coming closer. 

“Hi,” you said when you reached him, your brain short circuiting for something interesting to say. 

“Hi,” he said back. You took the moment to look him over. He wasn’t much taller than you, but had broad shoulders. His black t-shirt sleeves were tight around his biceps, and for a moment you wondered how’d they feel beneath your hands. 

“Checking me out?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his face. But something shining in his eyes told you it was more an act than anything. He was nervous. You could tell in the way that his fingers fidgeted on the table. 

You smiled slowly, shrugging. “Maybe.” 

Surprise flickered in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected you to play along. Then, a small uncontained smile crept across his face. 

“Dangerous answer. I don’t even know your name yet.” He shifted his stance, his eyes boring into yours. You noted how he didn’t trail his gaze down your body, or glance around the bar to see who was watching like you’d seen guys do with your friends. His attention was entirely on your face, on what you’d say next. 

The idea of flirting would normally send you running in the other direction. Plain and simple, you weren’t good at it. You never knew what to say, or when to say it. You couldn’t flirt your way out of a paper bag. But the way he watched you, unassuming, made you feel bolder. Or maybe it was the alcohol threading through your body. 

“That sounds like a you problem,” you quipped, a smile tugging at your lips. 

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Fair enough. I’m-”

“Wait!” You interjected, holding up a hand to stop him. He faltered, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Let me guess.” 

“You want to guess?” He asked, a quizzical expression on his face, more amused then anything. 

You shrugged limply. “It’s my birthday. I’m feeling intuitive.” 

“Alright then,” the man straightened, letting you see all of him. The black t-shirt tucked into form fitting black pants, a belt with a  silver buckle hooked around his waist. “Guess away.” 

With your finger, you motioned for him to do a spin, looking at him as you would an art piece in a museum. He chuckled again but followed your directions, spinning in place once. 

When he faced you again, you tapped your finger on your chin. 

“Daniel.” You guessed. He shook his head smiling.

“Close,” he offered. You nodded studiously.

“Dominik?” Another head shake.

“Derrek?” Nope. 

“Connor!” A voice interjected, and suddenly, another man was throwing his arm around the brown haired man. “Dude, have you been watching the game? The Devils have had a crazy comeback.” 

You looked at the new man, whose excitement radiated from him in every direction. He kind of reminded you of an eager puppy. But then, you turned your gaze back to the first.

“Connor?” You asked, crossing your arms stubbornly. “That isn’t remotely close to Daniel.” 

At your voice, the second man looked over, grinning. “He said his name was Daniel?” 

“I was trying to guess,” you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically. 

“It is close,” Connor insisted, smirking. “Alphabetically.” 

You shook your head, though you couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Will you tell me your name now?” Connor asked, shrugging the other man’s arm off his shoulder. 

You did, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. You couldn’t help but get lost in them, and in the way that his smile softened. 

“I’m Frank!” The second man cut in, grinning and absolutely ruining the moment. 

But you just laughed softly. “It’s nice to meet you. What was it you’re saying about devils? Is that like a sports team or something?” 

The men looked at each other, eyes wide. 

Frank nodded, still looking aghast. “Yeah, we have to play them next week.” 

“In what?” 

At your confusion, the boys faltered again. You glanced at the TV behind you to see some sort of hockey game playing. At least, you thought it was hockey. Was there more than one sport that got into fights on the ice? You couldn’t recall. 

“Hockey?” You asked unsurely, turning back to face them. And then, it hit you. “Wait, you’re playing that team?” You gestured blindly towards the TV, and the boys nodded. You realized then that you had two professional athletes standing in front of you. No wonder Connor’s biceps looked like they could go on for days. It all made sense, the broad shoulders, the mop of hair, his subtle confidence. You noticed a faint bruise on Connor’s jawline. 

“Well that’s cool,” you grinned. “I couldn’t ice skate if my life depended on it.” 

“You know, I have the perfect solution.” Frank smirked excitedly. Then, he turned to Connor, grabbing his shoulders with both hands. “This is your moment, Bedsy. Tell her you can teach her how to skate, then offer dinner, and make sure you get flowers. Thank me later.”

Connor glanced towards you, suddenly seeming embarrassed. But amusement caused a bubble of laughter to escape your throat. 

Frank smirked again. “Go get her, tiger.” Then, he pushed away through the crowd. Connor’s cheeks were tinged a light pink, and he ran an anxious hand through his hair. 

He lets out a breath through his nose, shaking his head like he’s trying to reset. 

“Please ignore him,” he said, glancing back towards Frank who was now downing a shot of something purple with a group of guys. “He thinks he’s a relationship expert because someone decided he wasn’t super ridiculous and agreed to date him.” You laughed softly, which caused Connor’s blush to dull slightly. You couldn’t deny that it was adorable. “Maybe he does have a point though, because he’s somehow managed to convince her to stick around.” 

You laughed again, which you noticed you were doing a lot around him. “Wow, I’m impressed.” 

“I know,” Connor smirked. “It’s a big deal for him.” 

Your lips tugged upwards, but your attention stayed on Connor. He kept glancing at you, as if he was trying to figure out his next move. 

“And for the record,” he continued, his voice softer. “I wasn’t not going to ask.” 

Your eyebrow quirked. “Oh?” 

He hesitated for a moment, then continued. 

“I mean… the skating thing.” He clarified, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I could actually teach you. If you wanted. You can say no, if that’s better for you, or–” he huffed a nervous laugh. “I’m aware of how that sounded… the whole speech thing.” 

“The full game plan?” You teased. “Dinner and flowers included?” 

His grin came back at that, a little crooked. “I think I should commit at this point. It’d be awkward not to.” 

You studied him for a moment, letting the silence between you fill the air. Around the bar, music was still blaring, people chatting and dancing excitedly. But between the two of you was something softer, more gentle. Even fragile perhaps. You didn’t want to break it. 

“Do I at least get to not fall on my face?” You questioned. His mouth quirked up and he shook his head quickly. 

“No promises. But I’d catch you.” 

You couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words. 

Somehow, you felt pulled to him. You didn’t want this bar to be the last time you saw him. 

You stuck out your hand for him to shake. He grasped it, his palm warm, callouses scraping against your skin.

“Deal.” You grinned.

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

Just One Class | Connor Bedard

prompt: you finally convince Connor to go to your pilates class with you. he's all cocky, thinking it will be easy, until it actually starts and he realizes how big of a mistake that was.

pairing: connor bedard x fem!reader

content: illusions of smut if you squint, fluff, mentions of sweat

wc: 1.2k

Finally, you had convinced Connor to join you in one of your hot pilates classes. The two of you were driving to the studio, and you were filled with absolute excitement. 

Connor had no idea what he was getting into. He was cocky, casually confident, so sure of himself. And maybe he had a right to be, as a professional hockey player. 

But you've seen the videos on tiktok. The ones of the boys who were built similar to your boyfriend struggling through one class. 

When you got to the studio, you led Connor inside and to the cubbies where you stored your stuff during each class.

“Can we share?” Connor asked as you slipped off your shoes. He was glancing around, his cocky demeanor from earlier gone. As he usually did when you and Connor went into public, he had swallowed all traces of emotion, his shy nature taking over. 

“You want to share a cubby?” You asked. He nodded and you shrugged. 

“I don’t want to take up too much space.” 

You gave a soft smile. “You won’t, but if it will make you feel better, we can share.” 

Connor nodded before placing his slides on the shelf next to yours and tossing his wallet on top.

You had brought an extra pair of grippy socks and handed them to him before the two of you entered the studio, yoga mats in hand. 

“You ready?” You asked as the two of you picked a spot near the back. 

Connor now had a little smirk on his face, that easy confidence coming back. 

“This is gonna be a cake walk.” 

Twenty minutes later, after some initial stretching and warm up sets, Connor was cursing vividly under his breath. As the two of you held a plank next to each other, you watched, holding in a giggle as a drop of sweat dripped from his nose onto the mat beneath him. 

The instructor announced to pull it back into a child's pose to rest for a second.

“Thank god,” Connor groaned softly, causing you to huff a laugh. He shot you a glare. The poor boy was already shaking, not a great sign seeing as you still had forty minutes left in the class. 

Next, the instructor told everyone to lie on your backs, and you began rising and lowering your legs slowly. While this had once been something you struggled with, months of classes had made it easier. You could now push through the movements without your core shaking or feeling like you might hurl on the floor.

Connor, however, did not have such experience. His features were all screwed together, his eyes shut tight, as he followed the instructions being shouted over the speakers. 

The rest of the class, you had to try your best not to laugh at your boyfriend.

At one point, the instructor came over. “You can hold your boomerang longer.” She told him. “Come on, get back up there.” 

Connor blinked at her, baffled.

“My what?” 

You huffed a laugh, still holding your position despite the tension in your core. 

Connor glowered at the two of you before lifting his legs back into the air, using his core to raise his shoulders off the ground. You watched as his body began shaking immediately. 

“Yes, good.” The instructor said, “Don’t stop, the shaking is good.” 

Connor gritted his teeth, obviously holding back some choice words as his body shook like a leaf. 

When class was over, you stood, wiping your face with your towel while rolling up your mat. Connor stayed splayed out on his mat, breathing heavily, sweat shining on his skin. Everyone was packing up, but Connor looked as if he might just live there on the floor now.

You nudged his side with your toe and he peeled one eye open to look at you. 

“Ready to go, Connie?” 

He groaned, saying something inaudible before clambering to his feet. He was absolutely dripping in sweat, and you couldn’t lie it was one of the hottest things you'd ever seen. 

Once he was all packed up and you had your shoes back on, he fished the car keys out of his duffel bag and tossed them to you. 

“You’re driving,” was all he said before moving towards the door. You had to bite your lip in order not to giggle again. 

He opened the door for you, letting you exit in front of him before grabbing your hand and pulling you closer as you made your way to the parking lot. You smiled at him softly, and couldn’t be more grateful that he had come with you. He’d known how hard you worked, and how much mental work you’d gone through to feel comfortable with your body. You had wanted to show him what you could do. 

He ran a hand through his hair, slick with sweat, and rubbed it off on his shorts as the two of you climbed into the car. 

“Have fun?” You asked as you pulled the car out of the parking spot. 

“That was harder than I thought it would be,” he admitted, looking absolutely exhausted. “I’ve never sweat that much in my life.” Then, softer. “You did really well.”

“It’s definitely a liberating experience,” you said with a grin, your heart swelling at the compliment. 

“Liberating? I thought I was gonna die,” he exclaimed haughtily, but then a slow smile spread across his face, and he began laughing at himself. You couldn’t help it as your own laughter began to spill out. 

“I thought that at first too,” you told him, if even just to reassure him. “And then for like the first two months, I hated it. But now, I feel stronger and more deliberate.”

“I guess it is supposed to be helpful for preventing injuries too,” he said, thinking. “Maybe I’ll keep coming with you.” 

“Please!” You gasped dramatically. “Think of the power couple we could be. We could even start wearing matching sets.” 

“Fine, but no yellow. It washes me out.” Connor joked, causing you to snort. At the sound, the two of you broke into another fit of laughter. 

When you got back to the apartment, Connor beat you to the shower, saying you couldn’t even take one together because he was too sweaty. You pouted, but grinned at his back as he closed the bathroom door. 

“Next time,” he spoke, his voice muffled through the door. “We’re doing something normal. Like skating.” 

“There’s nothing normal about skating when you’re on the ice,” you joked. “You’re a beast.” 

Connor opened the door, sticking his head out through the crack. You saw the lines of his bare shoulders and swallowed, desire heating your stomach. He noticed the look in your eyes and smirked. 

“By the way, you look really good in that set.” He winked, closed the door, and you heard him laugh softly at your small sound of outrage. He was just teasing you now, by not letting you in there with him. But you glanced down at your red leggings and matching sports bra with a small smile. 

Yeah, you were absolutely dragging Connor back to another class.

divider by @wispyxfae

[abbydianereads]

The Dress In The Window | Connor Bedard

prompt: while out and about with Connor, you get your period and bleed through your jeans.

content: period talk, bleeding through, cursing, fluff

Wc: 1.8k

Chicago in the spring was a beautiful place to be. Once the temperature began to warm, people swarmed out of their houses as if they’d just woken from hibernation. It was one of your favorite times of the year. 

To enjoy the sunshine and warm temperatures, you and Connor decided to go out for lunch and walk around a bit. It was one of his rare days where his day was free after a morning practice, and you were just happy to get to spend time with him. 

You’d gone to a small bar and grill, ate more food than you could handle, and hobbled out, moaning about being so full. Connor just laughed, intertwining your fingers with his as you began strolling down the street. 

“I’m having a food baby,” you told him, placing a hand over your stomach. 

Connor smirked. “What’s its name?” 

You pondered for a minute, tapping your chin with your index finger. “Hermy,” you decided, satisfaction ringing through your voice. Connor nodded, as if that was the ideally perfect name. 

The two of you continued down the street, peeking through store windows and just enjoying your presence. At one point, you let go of Connor’s hand to walk up to the glass of a boutique. A beautiful dress was in the window, catching your eye immediately. 

“Wow,” you said, eyeing the soft pink fabric that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. “It’s gorgeous.” You turned to Connor, hoping to share in your excitement, only to see him staring at your waist, frowning. “You think I can go in and try it on? I don’t have to get it, I just want to–”

“Baby,” he interrupted, meeting your gaze. He stepped closer to you, lowering his voice as he glanced around at the pedestrians walking past. “Did you start your period?” 

At those five words, your heart dropped, embarrassment and panic rising in its place. 

Understanding dawned on you, on why he’d been staring at your jeans. 

You twisted around yourself, trying to check for the tell-tale sign of bleeding through, but couldn’t tell from your current angle. 

You looked at Connor, eyes wide. “Am I bleeding?” You whispered, hands flying to your back to feel for dampness. 

Connor grabbed his phone, touching your arm to turn you gently. He snapped a photo and brought it around for you to see and sure enough, there was a dark stain spreading across the denim fabric covering your lower body. 

Your face heated and you glanced around, hoping no one was looking. Not that it mattered, you were at least a twenty minute walk from home, with nothing to cover up with. A quick search of your purse told you that you had also forgotten to put in an emergency tampon after using the last one. 

“Can we go home?” You asked, trying to swallow down the shame burning through you. Connor nodded, gaze soft. You watched as he reached up to the collar of his quarter zip and pulled it over his head to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Quickly, he reached around you, tying it at your waist. The action, as well as the sudden emotion flowing through you, caused your eyes to prick. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you scrubbed your face. “I ruined the afternoon. It came earlier than I expected it to.” 

“Not at all,” Connor insisted, grabbing your hand once more. The two of you began walking in the opposite direction, heading back towards the apartment. You wrapped your hand around his bicep, pulling you in closer to his side as you walked, needing physical comfort more than anything.

Throughout the trip, you felt cramps slowly activating, causing your muscles to tighten and your steps to slow. Connor only looked over at you, slight worry shining in his gaze. 

As soon as you stepped into the apartment, you raced for the bedroom, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and then locking yourself away in the bathroom. 

From the other side of the door, Connor called out, “Do you need anything? Any help?” 

As you peeled the jeans off your body, you cringed at the red stain covering the entire back. 

“No, I just need to get cleaned up. I’ll be out in a bit.” You turned on the shower, hoping the warm water would ease some of the cramping so that you could still have a nice day with your boyfriend. Your period cramps had always been debilitating and severe, with pain meds having little effect. 

“Okay,” Connor responded. “While you do, I’m gonna run out for a few errands. I forgot something at the store yesterday.” 

“I love you,” you called back, slipping out of your sweater and underwear and into the shower. 

His muffled reply came back, “I love you too, see you in a bit.” 

Then, you let the water run over you, watching as liquid red streaked down your legs and into the shower drain. You couldn’t believe you had started your period and bled through without even noticing. You were more embarrassed than anything else. 

By the time you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around you, your cramps had taken full effect. You hunched over slightly, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. Once you were dressed in pajamas, period products in place, you grabbed your jeans, rinsed the stain under cold water, and threw them into the washing machine. Hopefully, they would come out good as new. 

You padded into the living room to see Connor hadn’t gotten back yet, so you slumped onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You curled up on the cushions, wanting to cry from the pain as a wave of exhaustion hit you. Momentarily, you considered getting up to grab your heating pad and maybe try some pain meds, but the idea of getting back up felt more exhausting than anything else. 

Instead, you shut your eyes, hoping to maybe fall asleep to escape the cramps.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you heard the apartment door unlock and click open, the sound of Connor’s soft footfalls echoing through the space. 

You perked up slightly, peeking over the couch cushions to see Connor entering carrying a few plastic bags. 

“Hey,” he said, moving to set the items on the kitchen counter. “You doing okay?” 

“Cramping,” you told him, voice full of dejection. His whole demeanor softened and then he brought the bags over to you, setting them on the coffee table and sitting down next to you. Immediately, you moved to lay your head in his lap and he brought an arm around your waist. 

“So,” he said lightly. “Do you wanna see what I got you?” 

You opened one eye to look up at him. “Is it chocolate?” 

Connor shrugged, a playful smile gracing his lips. “Maybe.” 

At the idea of the sweet delicacy, you sat up despite the pain, letting him riffle through the bags. He pulled out a pack of dark chocolates with caramel, followed by sour gummy worms and peach rings. Your favorites. He also pulled out a book–a romance novel you’d been eyeing lately. You felt all your insides soften for him, overwhelming love filling you. 

And then, he placed the only paper bag in the bunch on your lap. You looked at him questioningly but he gestured for you to open it. 

You pulled at the edges, peeking in to see a swath of light, shimmering pink fabric, and you gasped softly. You reached in to pull it out and sure enough, it was the dress you had been looking at in the window when disaster struck. 

You burst into sobs. 

Connor jumped, reaching for you with utter confusion on his face. “What- what’s wrong?” He asked, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to touch you. He ran a distressed hand through his hair. “Do you not like it? I can take it back. I’m sorry, I-”

“Connor, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You said through your sobs, turning your face into his chest. He froze before softening and letting out a relieved laugh. 

“You’re happy?” He asked, awe and amusement on his face. “God, I thought I made you cry.” 

The pain, coupled with your heightened emotions and hormones, and the dress, and Connor being the sweetest and most loving boyfriend in the world was just too much. You couldn’t stop the tears and continued soaking his t-shirt. He brought a hand to the back of your head, smoothing your hair gently. 

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you pulled away, sniffing. 

“Can I try it on?” You asked, running your fingers over the silky fabric. 

“It’s yours, baby. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You smiled, wide enough for your cheeks to ache before pressing a kiss to his jaw. Then you stood, dress in hand, moving to the bathroom. 

Once you had pulled the dress on, you stared at yourself in the mirror, admiring the way the fabric hugged and fell around your body. The color seemed to bring out a brightness in your skin. You felt beautiful. 

You went back up to the living room, causing Connor to look up from where he was scrolling on his phone. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. You gave him a little twirl, giggling to yourself. You were so happy, you were able to ignore the pain in your gut. “You look beautiful.” 

“I feel beautiful,” you told him, smoothing your hands over your hips. 

Connor stood, reaching for you. “Good.” 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

When you pulled apart moments later, slightly breathless, you smiled up at him. 

“I’m gonna go change, and then can we watch Supernatural and eat chocolate?” You gave him a hopeful look. All you wanted was to curl up beside him for the rest of the day. 

“Yes, yes go. I’ll turn it on.” 

You kissed him again, hard and fast, and then retreated back into the bathroom to change. 

When you came back out, Connor opened his arms, beckoning you into him. You sat next to him, folding your legs over his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. Slowly, you felt the pain in your gut become more present, but you found you didn’t mind as much when Connor was there with you. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and pressed play over the t.v. Then, he grabbed the chocolate, setting it in your lap so that you both had easy access, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Your cramps still ached and your eyes were heavy, but tucked against Connor with chocolate on the table and Supernatural playing softly, you couldn’t imagine a better place to be.

divider by @wispyxfae