O Canada Ju! Can I request some connor mcdavid fluff? He seems so awkward, nervous and shy. I'm very endeared by his nervous dog energy. I feel like he would be very sweet and polite boyfriend, an absolute gentlemen. Hes so hockeypilled that he just goes along with whatever his girlfriend says.
not nsfw but ima put a barrier for non rpf reader cuz he is a pretty popular player who usually isnt in rpf
connor always tried to play it cool around you, but he never actually succeeded, not even a little. he’d hover beside you with that soft, restless energy, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he wasn’t sure where to put all six feet of himself. whenever you said something teasing or affectionate he’d duck his head, touching the back of his neck as if he could hide the blush climbing up his ears. still, he listened to every word you said like it was gospel, nodding along with that earnest seriousness only a man who’d spent his whole life thinking in forecheck patterns could manage. it wasn’t obedience—just the way he adored you, straightforward and unguarded, like loving you was as natural as breathing.
he’d melt a little every time you tugged at his sleeve to get his attention, glancing down at you with this faint, lopsided smile that he didn’t quite know how to control. conversations always drifted into his hockey world whether he intended them to or not, but he’d try so hard not to bore you, stumbling through explanations and apologizing mid-sentence until you grabbed his hand to settle him. he relaxed instantly, the tension uncoiling from his shoulders as if your touch rewired something inside him. “sorry,” he’d mumble, even though he wasn’t in trouble, even though you’d never stop him. he just cared so much, and it leaked out of him in these endearing little bursts he couldn’t contain.
around the team, he tried to act like your relationship didn’t turn him into a golden retriever in human form, but everyone saw right through him. the way he lit up when you walked into the room, the way he stood a little taller, the way he almost tripped over a gym bag one time because he got distracted watching you smile at someone’s joke. you teased him about it later and he groaned, burying his face against your shoulder like he wished the floor would open up under him. but when you told him you thought it was cute, he peeked up with this shy, glowing look that made embarrassment worth it.
at home he was gentler, calmer, though still full of those little nervous habits—fidgeting with your fingers, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, waiting for your cues because he never wanted to overstep. yet there was nothing submissive about it; he held you firmly when he pulled you in, kissed you with intent even if he pulled back too soon to check if you were okay. his sweetness didn’t take away from the quiet confidence in his body, the strength in the way he guided you without thinking. he was just careful, thoughtful, trying to balance his boldness with that deep-rooted desire to take care of you.
late at night, when the house was dim and soft and he finally let himself stop thinking, he’d lie beside you with his arm tucked under your waist, face buried in your hair. “you’re good for me,” he’d whisper, voice rough with sincerity, as though the words embarrassed him but needed to be said anyway. he always sounded a little stunned that he ended up with you at all. and when you rolled over to kiss him or tease him or tell him you adored him too, he’d get that sweet, overwhelmed look again, the one that made him yours completely—awkward, nervous, impossibly devoted, and so very easy to love.
