The players reaction to the fans giving gifts to their girlfriends that isn't famous,like she just have a normal life but date them. Like when youtubers receive mailbox and the fans send present to their child or girlfriends,i think is cute 🥹
unsuspecting gifts
pairings: macklin celebrini, will smith, fraser minten, ben kindel, connor bedard x reader
summary: you didn't expect to get gifts from everyone
warnings: fluff
wc: 1.7k
MACKLIN CELEBRINI
you don't expect to be noticed. at mack's games, you keep things simple -- quiet clothes, quiet presence, just another face in the crowd. you like it that way. it lets your focus on him, on the speed and sharpness of his game, the way everything else fades when he's on the ice.
but tonight, people are looking. it starts subtly -- whispers, glances that linger a little too long. you try to ignore it until intermission, when someone approaches you.
you hesitate, then nod. her face lightens up as she presses a bracelet into your hand, beads in team colours. "i made this for you."
the sweetness of it catches you off guard. "oh thank you," you say softly.
after that, it doesn't stop. someone else hands you a folded note before briskly walking away. by the time the game resumes, your hands are full of little, thoughtful things, kindness from people who don't know you, but still chose you.
it's overwhelming, but gentle. mack finds you after the game, eyes scanning until they land on you. he smiles at first -- then pauses when he sees everything you're holding.
"what happened?" he asks, a quiet laugh slipping through as he drops into the seat beside you.
you lift the bracelet slightly. "look at what your fans gave me."
his expression shift, surprise softening into something more careful as he looks at you. "you okay?"
you nod, a small smile forming. "yeah. it's actually really nice."
relief settles into his shoulders. he nudges your knee, grin returning, softer this time. "they like you," he says.
you shake your head lightly. "i think they just like you."
he glances at the gifts, then back at you, something warm and certain in his expression.
"pretty sure it's you that they love."
WILL SMITH
it's after a game, the arena is still buzzing, the kind of electric energy that clings to will even as he steps out of it. you're half a step behind him, tucking into your usual place -- close enough to matter, far enough to stay out of the spotlight. that's how it's always been. you have your life, your routines, your quiet normalcy. he has...all of this.
so when someone calls your name -- not his -- you almost don't turn.
"hey umm, this is for you."
you blink, surprised, as a fan leans over the barrier, holding out a small gift bag. it's nothing extravagant, just tissue paper and a shy smile behind it. you hesitate, glancing instinctively at will.
he's already looking at you. not confused or annoyed, just soft, like he's trying not to grin too wide.
"go on," he murmurs, nudging your elbow.
you take it, offering a polite thank you, but it doesn't stop there. another voice, another hand, something wrapped this time. then another. suddenly, you're the one being noticed, pulled into the orbit you've always watched from the edges.
it's overwhelming in the gentlest way. will shifts closer, a quiet presence at your side. not possessive or showy, just there with his hand brushing yours briefly, grounding you.
'i think they like you more than me," he says under his breath, amusement threading through it.
you huff softly, still dazed. "they barely even know me."
he glances at you then, really looks, like the answer is obvious. "they know enough."
you don't ask what that means.
later, when you're back in the car, the noise gone and the night settling around you, he reaches over and tugs one of the gift bags into his lap, peeking inside like a kid.
a quiet laugh escapes him. "this one is so you."
you watch him, the way he smiles -- not at the crowd, not for camera, but because of this, and because of you -- and something warm settles in your chest. you're not part of his world, not really. but somehow, they've made space for you anyway, and so has he.
FRASER MINTEN
you're not at the game tonight -- just at home, curled up on the couch with a blanket and your phone on silent, half-watching, half-waiting for him to come home. you like it that way. you're in the quiet of your home, and get to look up to see fraser do what he loves, and he knew that. he's always known you're not one to always love the loud arena, but you're still at home supporting him just as hard.
he doesn't mention anything unusual when he texts you quickly before the game, just a quick thinking of you, like always. it isn't until later, long after the final buzzer, that something feels different. there's a pause before his next message. typing, stopping, typing again.
when he finally calls, his voice is softer than usual, threaded with something fond and a little disbelieving.
he tells you it started with one fan by the glass during warmups, holding out a small, neatly wrapped package, with a small sign saying they had something for you. they didn't ask for a puck like everyone else around them, just if he could give their gift to you.
when he took the gift and said he'd pass it on to you, then came another, and another. by the time he made his way back down the tunnel, he had a handful of little things carefully tucked away. a handwritten note, a bracelet, a tiny keychain. things that felt chosen and made for you, not general things that were bought not too long ago.
he laughs quietly, like he can't quite process it. not in a mocking way, but in a grounded, slightly shy way he has when something catches him off guard.
"they just...wanted you to have all these."
you can picture the way he'd say it, shrugging a little, like he doesn't want to make it bigger than it is. but you hear the undercurrent too -- the protectiveness, the quiet pride. the way he didn't brush it off, and let the staff hold onto the gifts. he kept every single one, ready to bring them to you.
later, when he gets home, he sets them out for you with surprising care, like they're fragile. like they matter only because they were for you. and when you look up at him, a little overwhelmed by the amount of things people had to gift you, he just smiles, easy and steady.
BEN KINDEL
you stand a few steps off to the side, arms crossed, trying to look casual while ben signs autographs for a long line of fans. even on a day off, he's magnetic -- smiling, joking, shaking hands with everyone. your chest swells a little watching him.
"here you go," someone says suddenly, holding out a small wrapped package. you blinked, startled. "uhh...this is for you."
you glance around, confused, but the fan just smiles and nods before moving on. you're now holding a little gift, your cheeks heating a bit. you weren't expecting anything -- you though that no one really knows you, and didn't really think that people would care to give you something.
before you can overthink it, ben notices. he's mid-signature, but his eyes catch the exchange. his brow arches as he waves at you. "hey! is that...for you?"
you nod, a little shy. "yeah...i guess someone actually knows about me."
ben's grin spreads wide, genuine and teasing. he finishes up the autograph he's signing, quickly making his way over to you with easy confidence. "well, look at that," he says, crouching slightly to get closer. "you've got yourself your own fans."
you laugh nervously. "i didn't expect this when i decided to come today."
"exactly," he says softly, draping an arm around your shoulders. "you're just being you, and somehow, people already love you for it. and let me tell you? i do too. probably more than anyone here." his thumb brushes your arm gently.
you shake your head, smiling. "ben-"
"nope," he interrupts, smirking. "this is official. you get lovely gifts, and i get to have the proud boyfriend look. deal?"
you laugh, leaning into him. "deal."
he kisses your temple, then looks down at the small package in your hands with a small grin. "seeing people love you just as much as i do has officially made my day...though i might be a little jealous of whoever gave you this."
CONNOR BEDARD
the engine hums low as connor pulls out of the arena parking lot, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against it. you're mid-sentence about something completely normal -- groceries, maybe, or a show you want to watch -- when he exhales a quiet laugh.
"still interesting," he says, glancing at the small crowd gathered near the exit. "they wait out here every time."
you shrug, used to it by now. "i mean, you're kinda a big deal."
he huffs. "kinda?"
as the car slows, a few fans try to get closer, waving. connor rolls down his window automatically, his posture shifting -- polite and practiced, expecting they want to take a photo with him or want him to sign something as usual.
a girl at the front beams, but her eyes flick past him -- straight to you.
"oh my god, hi!" she says.
you blink, not expecting to be talked to. "hi?"
connor's brows knit slightly. he glances at you, then back at everyone, confused but still smiling. "did you want a photo, or-?"
"actually," another fan cuts in, holding up a small gift bag, "this is for you." she leans a bit, offering it toward the window.
you freeze. "for...me?"
connor fully turns now, his confusion obvious. "wait, what?"
the first girl nods eagerly. "we just think you're really cool, and wanted to give you this."
connor lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "you guys are bringing her gifts now?"
you nudge his arm lightly. "don't sound so offended."
"i'm not offended," he says, trying to defend himself, shaking his head even though a grin breaks through. "i just- this is new."
you accept the bag carefully. "thank you! this is really sweet."
another fan hands over something small -- a handmade bracelet. "we see you at games sometimes," she says. "and you just seem really nice."
connor leans back in his seat, watching you with an expression that softens into something quieter, more personal. "they like you more than me," he mutters.
you smile, glancing at him. "obviously."
he snorts, but there's pride in it. "yeah," he says, pulling the car forward once the crowd clears. "obviously."
a/n: i'm starting a movement and putting all of you guys on my other goat ben kindel
song on repeat: not a song, but i'm watching the pitt :P
Prompt: wisdom teeth removal isn’t so bad, not when you’ve got your boyfriend by your side… even when you don’t fully know what you’re saying to him
Warnings: wisdom teeth removal (no in depth medical descriptions)!
requested!
“Can we just go get ice cream instead?” You beg, not looking at your boyfriend as you ask. Your eyes stay glued to the entrance of the building. Connor chuckles softly next to you as he takes your shaking hand into his steady one.
“I promise we can get ice cream when you’re feeling better.” He says, his eyes trained on your face.
“I don’t want to go in.” You whisper, and the nervousness in your voice makes Connor’s heart crack a bit.
“Then we sit here for a few more minutes, but I promise I’ll be there for you the entire time.”
That’s the thing about Connor, he never pushes too hard. He lets you express how terrified you are about a medical procedure, but stands strong enough to know how you pull you out of it.
The waiting room is blue, very blue. Blue walls, blue carpeting, blue cushions on the chairs, ocean paintings and one of a sailboat with…. surprise… a blue sail. You clutch the blue pen in your hand, your writing shaky as you fill out forms.
“Let me, baby.” Connor says lightly, noting how jagged your writing has become.
“Everything is blue.” You whisper, not even noticing as Connor fills out your information because he knows all of it without having to ask.
“Blue is calming.” Connor tries to reason.
“It’s making me want to puke.” You say, and his hand stops writing as his gaze snaps to you. Before he can say anything your name rings out in the waiting room.
“Con.” You say, as you take in the smiling nurse at the door.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m with you, and everything is going to go great. You’re safe.” He says as he stands with you, but the comfort leaves as the nurse says the thing you’ve been dreading.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, you can wait here for now. We’ll bring you back once she’s all done.”
Connor only nods, no panic, no tension. The cool confidence he gets on the ice settling over his features. And it calms you only a bit to see that he’s not worried.
“You’ll be okay.” He says finally.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
—
The time drags as Connor sits in the insanely blue waiting room. He lets his eyes close as he remembers how you looked as you walked through the doors with the nurse. He knows how much you hate medical stuff, knows how bad you’ve been worrying about this.
His phone buzzing breaks him out of his thoughts, and he reads the texts from Frank Nazar.
Frank: Chicken noodle or tomato?
Connor: Chicken noodle, but the low sodium one. She’ll complain if it’s too salty
Frank: Aye aye cap. What else?
Connor: yogurt, but only peach flavored. Pudding, applesauce, maybe bananas?
Frank: Sounds good….
Frank: Dad
Connor: Shut up
Connor shakes his head, grinning down at his phone until now it was his name being said in the waiting room. His head snaps up as the same nurse stands in front of the open door. He sits up quickly, his phone and conversation with Frank long forgotten.
“That’s me.” He says, walking towards the woman, anxious to get back to you.
“She did great.” She says with a soft smile. “She’s a little tired, but very sweet.”
Connor raises his eyebrows, not that he was questioning two things he knows very well about, but he wasn’t exactly expecting that out of the nurse.
“Yeah, that sounds like her.” He says with a smile as he starts to follow the nurse down the long hallway, and he stops in his tracks as he finally sees you.
You’re sitting in the chair, the sleeves of his hoodie you insisted on wearing pulled over your hands, your eyes hooded and groggy. Your face looks a bit puffy, but very tired, and in that moment Connor has never wanted to take care of you more in his life.
Your eyes widen a bit as Connor stands in front of you, hat backwards on his head, a plain navy sweatshirt, black shorts that hug thick thigh muscles.
“Hey baby.” You hear him say, and before you can question him, before you can even process the words, the tone of his voice, the sound of it, you know then that you’re safe. Your heart slows into a steady rhythm, and you feel the need to bask in his gaze. But the daze of the drugs cloud your judgement.
“Don’t call me that.” You mumble as you look at him. Now, somewhere deep inside you, you know this is Connor. This is your boyfriend who bends over backwards for you and says it’s the minimum of what you deserve. And as every second passes it becomes clearer to you that it’s him, but there’s something about the fog that’s gripping your mind. Something about it that’s not letting you fully believe he’s here.
“No?” Connor asks, coming to stand next to you. “How come?”
“No. I have a boyfriend.”
The nurse turns her back, and you miss it, but Connor doesn’t miss how her shoulders shake ever so slightly. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at you as he answers back.
“You do?”
“Mhm.” You nod very seriously, almost offended that he wouldn’t know that.
“What’s his name?” Connor asks, sitting down in the chair the nurse nodded her head towards.
“Connor.” You say, like the question is the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. “He’s perfect. He buys me flowers every Sunday, and he knows that I like M&M’s in my popcorn. He says he doesn’t put extra in but I know he does. Plus he’s very pretty. I don’t think he realizes it, but I think my heart stops whenever he looks at me like-“ you stop talking, your eyes widening a bit.
“Looks at you like what?”
“Like that.” You say, pointing directly at Connor’s face, like the man next to you isn’t your boyfriend. “He looks at me like that, how did you do that?” You ask him.
“I happen to know him pretty well.” The Connor look a like says to you.
“You can’t tell him I said that.” You say, reaching out for his hand. “It’s a secret.”
“What is?” He asks, and you roll your eyes at how this Connor look a like isn’t seeing the bigger picture.
“You can’t tell him how much I love him.” You whisper, reaching with your other hand to press a finger to your lips.
“Okay.” He whispers, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I won’t tell Connor.”
You hum and nod, like that is the best news you’ve heard all day, but you watch him as the nurse starts going over post surgery procedures. He nods, asking questions and flipping through a packet. The Connor look a like is starting to become less suspicious to you.
When it’s time to leave Connor helps you stand, letting you lean fully into him as you both slowly make your way to the car. You giggle as you sway, and his arm is firm on your side so you don’t go tumbling down.
“Connor?” You ask finally as you’re in the car, Connor reaching over to buckle you into the front seat, and in all honesty you don’t remember ever getting to the car.
“Yeah baby?” He asks, stopping and waiting for you to say whatever it is.
“You’re my Connor?” You ask, your fingers going up to brush at his face. You feel his slightly warm skin, then they trace a scar.
“I’m your Connor.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Good. I hope he knows I love him.”
“He knows.”
“I wanna marry him.” You admit, and Connor has to pretend like the admission doesn’t knock the air out of his lungs. “I want to wear a white dress, and I want to tell everyone about him. I want to have kids someday too. I think he’d be the best dad.” Your words are spewing out at his point, and as Connor gets settled into the drivers seat he has to act, once again, like you haven’t completely destroyed him in the best possible way. “But you can’t tell him.” You say again, your droopy eyes meeting his.
Connor wants to play along, knows he probably should because you’re in no state of mind for anything serious. But he can’t, not after that. “It might be a little hard not telling him.” He starts to say as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Considering I am Connor.”
You freeze then, eyes going wide as you watch him. But they take in everything familiar, everything around you that confirms that statement.
“Well,” you say giggling slightly. “I guess the cats out of the bag.” Connor laughs so hard he has to tighten both hands on the wheel, and you look very proud for someone who has gauze in her mouth and no idea what day it is.
“Yeah,” he says, still laughing softly. “I guess it is.”
—
By the time he pulls into the apartment parking garage, you’re half asleep. Connor comes around to your side, opens the door, and crouches a bit in front of you.
“Hey, baby. We’re home.” He whispers, trying to be as soft as he can to wake you. Your eyes open halfway.
“Home?”
“Yeah. Come on.” He says, reaching over you to unbuckle your seatbelt.
Getting you upstairs is a careful operation. You insist on walking because you refuse to let the fake Connor carry you. So, Connor keeps one arm around your waist and one hand holding yours, guiding you slowly. You lean into him heavily, occasionally stopping for no reason, and occasionally to ask a question.
Like when you had to pause in the hallway and whisper, “Are my teeth gone?”
Connor nods with pure honesty. “Some.”
“All of them?” You question, looking horrified.
“Just the ones with wisdom.” Connor says, biting his lip to keep from laughing at his own joke, and that seems to be enough that you calm down again. When you finally make it to your door Connor opens it, letting you in first as he steps in directly behind you. The place smells warm, it smells like your home.
“There she is.” A familiar voice says as you turn your head that direction. You see a man you swear you know, the dark hair and cheesy smile so familiar to you. And Connor barely has time to adjust before you’re moving towards the man standing in your kitchen. “How are you feeling?” He asks as you stand in front of him.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You say, stumbling a bit but both Connor and Frank catch you before you could go anywhere. Connor lets go, knowing his best friend has you. He smirks a bit as Frank’s eyes flick to his from over your shoulder.
“A secret?” Frank asks you, like he’s absolutely appalled.
You nod, and before anyone can question you it comes out yet again. “I want to marry Connor.”
You think you’re whispering, you truly do. Frank’s mouth twitches at your confession. His eyes continually moving between yours and Connor’s.
“Oh yeah?” Frank questions you, and you stick your fingers over your lips as if to say shh. Frank brings his fingers to his own lips, and acts like he’s zipping them shut.
“He’s so pretty.” You say again, and from behind you Connor clears his throat, which is a sad attempt of trying to mask the laugh that was bubbling up. The sound catches your attention, and you look shocked as you take in Connor.
“How long have you been standing there?” You ask him, your body moving to try to get to him. Frank steadies you as Connor gets to you and secures you into him.
“I’ve been here the whole time baby.” He says, and you blink, slowly turning your gaze backwards to Frank’s.
“Betrayal.” You whisper to him, and Connor leads you over to the couch so you do not see how tight Frank is pressing his lips together.
The living room has been completely transformed. Your favorite blanket is on the couch. Your pillow is propped up exactly the way you like it. There’s a water bottle on the side table, tissues, medication instructions, but it’s the familiar Blackhawks sweatshirt in the corner that gets you the most. Your favorite sweatshirt. You stare at all of it as you sink into the couch, emotional and sleepy and trying very hard to stay upright.
“Thank you, Frank.” You whisper.
Frank’s face softens.
“Anytime.” He says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m gonna head out. Call me if you need anything.”
And before anyone could respond a sound comes from you, you who’s half lying on the couch, cheeks puffy, eyes barely open, one hand patting around the cushion like you’re searching for him even though he’s only a few feet away. Frank looks at Connor for a second longer, then smiles knowingly. Connor shoves him lightly toward the door.
“Get out.” Connor says, and Frank laughs as he waves and leaves the apartment. Connor locks up, then comes back into the living room and grabs the remote.
“Movie?” He asks and you nod immediately. He doesn’t ask which one, he doesn’t need to. The second the movie starts playing, you make a pleased little sound and pat the couch beside you harder this time.
“You want me there?” Connor asks with a smile, and you answer with another pat, this one even more insistently. “Okay, okay.” He chuckles as he sits beside you carefully, not too fast, not jostling you. You immediately shift toward him, and Connor adjusts, lifting his arm so you can tuck yourself against his side.
The hoodie you stole from him this morning has gotten bunched around your neck, trapping some of your hair awkwardly underneath the fabric. Connor notices before you can even reach for it.
“Hold on baby,” he murmurs. His fingers are gentle as he pulls your hair free from the hoodie neckline. Then he combs his hand through it slowly, smoothing it down over your shoulder.
“That feels nice.” You murmur, your speech still slightly slurred as your eyes close.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You answer, and Connor keeps doing it. Soft passes of his fingers through your hair, careful and steady. The movie plays quietly in front of you, but he isn’t really watching it. He’s watching you, the way your face finally relaxes, the way your breathing slows. The way you trust him enough to fall apart and to let him hold you while you’re not fully yourself.
You sigh, sinking deeper against him, and Connor tucks the blanket around your lap. For a few minutes, you’re quiet. Then your hand moves slowly until it finds his sweatshirt. You grip it weakly.
“Connor?” His heart squeezes at the way you say his name.
“Yeah, baby?”
Your eyes stay closed as you say, “I’m so very in love with you.” The words are barely there, coming out sleepy and muffled. But they hit him straight in the chest as Connor leans down and kisses the top of your head.
“I’m so very in love with you too, baby.”
A few seconds later, your body goes limp against his, fully asleep. The movie keeps playing as Connor’s phone buzzes on the arm of the couch. He glances down carefully, trying not to move you.
Frank: Bedsy.
Connor: She was loopy
Frank: She’s in love. It just came out when she was loopy Frank: Also, I know there’s a ring in your apartment
Connor: You aren’t supposed to bring that up
Frank: She literally told me she wants to marry you while you stood ten feet away smirking like a fucking idiot.
Connor looks back down at you. Your face is calm for the first time all day, your hair slightly messy, but he runs his fingers through it gently as he responds.
Connor: While she was loopy
Frank: She just told a man she thought was NOT Connor that she wants to marry Connor
Frank: Then found out he WAS Connor and basically said “oops, secret’s out.” What more do you need man?
Connor hesitates before typing back, a smile large on his face.
Connor: You’re annoying
He lets a second go by until he types a second text.
pairing(s): fraser minten, connor bedard, will smith, macklin celebrini, matt rempe, michael kesselring x fem!reader
summary: green flag things/habits they do in your relationship
warnings/contents: pda, fluff, mentions of bars, drinking, lingerie
author's note: each individual part is a bit long (sorry if you don’t enjoy that) i got carried away, let me know if you like this !!!!
Fraser Minten (FM93)
Walks closer to the road
You never really noticed he did it until one of your mutual friends pointed it out. You were hanging out downtown Boston with Fraser and a couple friends, holding hands and catching up. The boys had went into a store wanting to look while the girls opted to stay out, sitting on a bench surrounded by high-rise buildings and the sound of the city. You were scrolling on TikTok, trying to find a video you had saved to show one of the girls when she spoke.
“He did that a lot, huh?” You looked up, confusion on your face. “Does what?” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “he always puts you in the sidewalk side with him closest to the street - like, all the time.” You were surprised, and it probably showed on your face as she replied, “you haven’t noticed?”
You really hadn’t. Maybe it was because you never payed that much attention to it in the moment, or that it had become second nature. When you thought back to memories of you two walking together down streets and sidewalks, you do remember him trading places if you weren’t already furthest from the road.
And it wasn’t just roads or sidewalks either - if you were at a family skate or at a rink while back in Vancouver, he was always closest to the center when you were skating side-by-side (meaning when you weren’t trying not to fall with him leading you), making sure you weren’t in the area that could get you knocked over.
You had brought it up to him that night in your apartment. You were both dressed in your pyjamas - Fraser in a pair of plaid pants and a grey sweatshirt, glasses perched on his nose while you were in a pair of his boxers and t-shirt, fluffy socks you had gotten from Chantal the year before at Christmas on your feet. He had gotten to grab some ice cream for you both, and when he sat down and pulled you to curl into him, you asked him.
“Why do you always make sure you’re closest to the road?” He had looked at you, cheeks red like he’d been caught doing something bad. “What do you mean?” He replied, spoon in his mouth. “You always make sure you’re closest to the road or I’m on the sidewalk side when we’re walking. Why is that?” Fraser just shrugged, taking the spoon out and getting more ice cream, “I don’t know. Just want you to be safe - didn’t really realize I was doing it. Does it bother you?”
You just smiled, dipping your spoon into the ice cream as well, “no. Quite the opposite actually.”
Connor Bedard (CB98)
Holds your bags
Connor holds your bags with no complaints, and does it out of his own will. You never asked him, not even once, not before it started and not during. Even if he gets teased for it online or by teammates, he just shrugs. It doesn’t matter if you have one bag or a million, heavy or light, he grabs it before you can even reach for it.
Bags full of things at the mall? Connor looks like a bellboy, bags on his arms from stores like Victoria’s Secret and Aritzia. Even if he has his own bags (probably from Lululemon or whatever stores sell shirts), he takes yours from you. At first you fought it, but you’ve now just learned to accept it.
Connor loads and unloads suitcases into cars and overhead cupboards in planes. Photos of you two leaving airports or hotels with Connor carrying everything and you carrying nothing except your purse or both of your phones had gone viral, and people had been upset at you - calling you lazy and ungrateful - until a reporter asked why he did it.
“I don’t know. Just don’t want her carrying things,” he scratched his neck, “plus, have to use my strength for something.”
The only time you ever carry things is when Connor is too drunk to remember. When he’s tipsy he still insists to carry your bag, or to give your bag to someone else so you don’t have to carry it (which makes you blush out of embarrassment). When he’s plastered he doesn’t realize or remember anything, and usually ends with you having to put him in sleep clothes or brush his teeth.
Any other time, he carries any and all bags you have. Doesn’t matter if they’re from a lingerie store or “girlie” store, he doesn’t bat an eye.
Will Smith (WS2)
Opens the car door for you
Will Smith was raised to be a gentleman. Always be respectful and polite, say your please and thank you’s, make eye contact, use your manners, and always open the door for someone (especially a woman).
You were surprised when he showed up on your first date. Most guys you had been with or been on a date with stayed in the car while you got in, but Will texted you when he was coming, met you at your front door, and followed you to the car, opening the door. You felt like a princess (as stupid as that sounds). That type of stuff should be bare minimum in a relationship, but it wasn’t. He got out and opened your car door again when you arrived at the restaurant, was respectful and nice the whole night, and opened your car door two more times. You ranted to your friends over the phone with blushed cheeks when you got back.
When you got together, you figured that this habit would end. That he didn’t have to “whoo” you anymore, and that once this honeymoon phase was over he’d go back to what he usually was like. But it didn’t. Because that’s how he was all the time.
Even if you’re in a hurry, or Mack is waiting in the car, Will will get out of the car and open your door for you. Fans had caught this and it became a thing on social media, always posting photos or videos of it happening. One time while you were texting Will’s mother Colleen, she had sent a video that had came across her timeline. She had sent a text along with it saying “you let me know if he stops and I’ll kick some sense into him”. You had chuckled and replied that he probably won’t stop.
Macklin Celebrini (MC71)
Always buys two snack options
You know the videos online of girlfriends saying they don’t want anything and then wanting whatever their boyfriend has? That’s you. You’re indecisive and you know - you’ll say you aren’t hungry and then want whatever Mack is having, or you’ll say you want one thing and want something different. Macklin has learned this about you, and after dating for awhile he knows how to solve this problem every time. You say you dont want anything? He gets extra of whatever he’s getting so you can have some.
When you’re driving and you pass a gas station, or you’re in a hotel and you pass a vending machine, and you say you want something? He’ll get what you want and something else you like (or another of one of his snacks) so you won’t be upset. He doesn’t worry about the extra money that it adds up to, he wants you to be happy. You both never really noticed it.
But others did. During the sleepover with Will and Toffoli, Tyler had brought it up after the younger boys had ordered their cookies and milk. He was on his cot, Mack and Will snacking away when he spoke, “when you do this with Y/n do you get another type as well or just this?” Mack had made a noise of confusion not knowing what he was talking about, but Will did.
“You always get two different things or something for her when you’re out, even if she says she doesn’t want anything.” Macklin just shrugged, going back to his phone. “I don’t know, I just know what she likes and want her to be happy.”
This was definitely going on the offside podcast when Tyler was on.
Matt Rempe (MR73)
Makes sure you get the first bite/waits for you
We all know Matt is a big guy, and he gets hungry. And before he was dating you, he wouldn’t wait to dive into his food - whether that was at home with his family or out with his teammates. But when he started dating you, something inside him screamed that he should wait for you. He didn’t know why he had that feeling, he just did.
If restaurants served him his food first, he’d just wait, his attention fully focused on you. You noticed it one time, and told him he could eat, but he just smiled at you with a lovesick look on his face, “I don’t need to. I’ll wait.” You raised an eyebrow, “you sure? It could get cold.” He just moved his hand from his lap to on the table, palm facing up and made a motion for you to put your hand in his, “I’m not worried about that.”
If you were staying in, food being delivered or reheated, Matt would wait. Sometimes you’d heat it up, put it on the coffee table in front of the couch and mumble that you’ll be back, he lets it sit there until you come back. Shared food and dessert he always lets you have the first bite. Late night drives to get ice cream from a specific gas station near you and sharing snacks on movie nights always looks like Matt letting you eat first.
He even does it at family dinners, the whole family diving in while you and Janice were still in the kitchen. He waited, hands in his lap, his eyes looking like a lost puppy waiting for their owner (according to Alley). When you came back and sat down, you kissed his cheek and when you finally ate, he did too.
Michael Kesselring (MK8)
Will switch shoes with you
The first time it happened was back in Utah. You had gone out to a bar with the team, you opting to walk and Michael coming because he would never let you walk alone if he could be there, day or night (especially at night, though he knew you could handle yourself). He had bought you some cute, black kitten heels a couple weeks before because he noticed you looking at them on a tab on your computer, and you never ask for anything (even though he tells you not to worry and he wants to spoil you, but you still don’t ask), so he bought them and you came home to find the exact pair you were eyeing on the bed.
Maybe you should’ve thought about what it would be liking walking to the bar, spending the night in them, and then walking back to your apartment, but you were too excited about them. Michael had a feeling you would get sick of them, but didn’t say anything. The night was spent dancing and drinking, Michael having an arm around your waist or midline, or around your neck swaying to the music. You were there for a couple hours, and close to the time you had planned to leave you had migrated to a stool at the bar, still present but getting off your heels.
When you walked back together, you tried to be discreet about the discomfort you were feeling, but the backs of your heels were causing blisters to form and the front were squishing your toes. You refused to accept defeat, asking to sit on a bench before you continued. Michael was leaning against a lamp post, watching you. You were rubbing your heel, about to put them on when he sat down beside you, “switch with me.”
He took the heel out of your hand and moved to remove other and placing them on a space on the bench beside him before untying the laces on hos sneakers. “Michael . . .” You trailed off, not knowing what to do. But your boyfriend is stubborn, shaking his head while saying not happening and placing the sneakers on your lap. You were too tired to care that they were dirty and sticky with alcohol, but you probably were dirty too - sweaty from dancing and drops of alcohol falling on you earlier.
You put the shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you could to not trip because your boyfriend was a giant and had giant feet. You look up once you’re done to see Michael standing in your heels, feet barely fitting in them. One part of you wanted to laugh, while the other wanted to tell him to sit down and give you your heels back, but you could tell from the look on his face that he knew what you were thinking and that it wasn’t going to happen.
You managed to make it to your shared apartment, slowly due to the tripping hazard from the other’s shoes, but no one complained once. Michael never protested or blamed you, and he didn’t even really talk about it after, just setting the shoes down and getting ready for bed lie usual.
Since that night you tried to wear more comfortable shoes to bars and restaurants, but sometimes the shoes went too good with the outfit and Michael even encouraged it, knowing how the night would end. He didn’t care, and he wants you to be happy.
You’re surprised there haven’t been pictures of his 6’5 form stumbling around in heels on the internet.
╰ Synopsis You and Connor haven’t been dating for long, so you still feel shy around him. You decided to buy an 98 necklace to start feeling more open around him, and Connor absolutely loves it.
tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, shy reader, idk 😔, 1.2k words, requested.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. This is short but pls I’ve been writing shi I’m never gonna post; basically bec I just wanna read stuff and no one can fulfill my exact needs so I’m doing it myself 😭😭
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
You and Connor haven’t been dating for very long, so you were still a little shy when it came to anything that had to do with him.
Compliments made your cheeks burn. Wearing his jerseys made you nervous. Even holding his hand in public sometimes made you feel some things.
Most girls would have already been proudly wearing their boyfriend’s number by now, but the thought of anyone knowing how gone you were for Connor still made you nervous. You didn’t understand why he had this effect on you? he was just so him.
Even Connor didn’t fully understand it. He always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, never pushing you past what you were ready for. He’d wait patiently when you hesitated to hold his hand in front of his teammates, never complained when you changed the subject after he complimented how pretty you looked, and always asked before pulling you closer on the couch.
He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. But still, he couldn’t figure out why you stayed so shy around him.
He’d thought the nervousness would fade after a few weeks, the way it usually did for most people. But time had passed, and you still blushed at the smallest things. He’d brushed it off eventually, telling himself you’d open up when you were ready, since you never said anything was wrong.
Yet deep down, he wished you’d wear his stuff proudly one day.
You were wandering through the mall after grabbing a few groceries, the bag swinging lightly from your wrist. The afternoon was quite boring and you had some time to kill before heading home.
As you passed a small jewelry store tucked between a coffee shop and a clothing boutique, something made you pause. The display window sparkled with delicate pieces, and on impulse, you stepped inside.
The store smelled faintly of vanilla and polished metal. Soft lighting highlighted rows of necklaces, earrings, and charms. You wandered over to a section of tiny gold number charms designed to dangle from chains, each one elegant and understated, numbers from 0 to 9 available.
Your eyes landed on the 8 and 9 sitting side by side. They looked so simple, yet they instantly reminded you of Connor. A small smile tugged at your lips as warmth bloomed in your chest.
If you were still this shy around him, maybe it was time to take a tiny step. Wearing his number every day, could help you get comfortable with the idea of belonging to him a little more openly.
You approached the counter where a friendly older woman was arranging a tray of rings. “Hi,” you said softly. “Could I get the 8 and 9 gold charms, please? And would it be possible to put them on a thin gold necklace chain?”
The woman smiled warmly. “Of course, dear. Would you like the chain in 16 inches or 18?”
You hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “18 inches is fine. Thank you.”
You explained to the older lady how you wanted the numbers arranged. “Could you put the 9 first and then the 8 right after it, so it looks like 98 from the front?” you asked.
The woman nodded with a little smile. “Of course.” She worked quickly and carefully, attaching the tiny gold charms so they dangled side by side, the 9 and 8 forming Connor’s number perfectly. You paid and slipped the pouch into your bag.
Later that evening, you texted Connor asking if he wanted to come over for dinner, you’d promised to cook one of his favorite dishes. He replied almost instantly saying he’ll be there.
You decided on a simple blue tank top that dipped just low enough. The thin gold chain felt cool against your skin, the small 98 resting right at the center of your chest. It still made you a little shy, but you wanted him to see it.
When Connor knocked on the door, you opened it with a soft smile. He stepped inside and immediately pulled you into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured happily.
You hugged him back for a moment before gently pulling away. “Dinner’s almost ready. I just need to finish the sauce.”
While he shrugged off his jacket and shoes, you hurried back to the kitchen. A minute later you heard his footsteps behind you. Connor walked up and wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, leaning down so his face tucked into the curve of your neck. He pressed a light, lingering kiss there that made you smile and tilt your head slightly.
“Mmm, smells amazing,” he said against your skin. You felt the cool metal of the necklace shift as his chin brushed it. He paused. “Put on a necklace?” he asked, the smile clear in his voice.
“Mhm,” you answered softly.
He pulled back just enough to gently turn you around to face him. His hands stayed on your waist as his eyes dropped to your chest. The moment he saw the tiny gold “98” resting against your skin, his expression changed.
Connor’s eyes widened, a genuine smile spread across his face. A faint blush crept up his cheeks as he stared at the necklace, his thumb absently brushing the side of your tank top near the chain.
He looked up at your face, eyes soft and still carrying the faint blush. “Is this for me?” he asked.
You nodded, a shy smile tugging at your own mouth. “Yeah. Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I like it,” Connor said, letting out a small laugh as he pulled you closer into a tight hug. His arms wrapped fully around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your head while the other rested at the small of your back. “I hope you never take it off.”
“I didn’t plan on it,” you murmured against his chest, the words muffled but sincere. The necklace sat warm between you now.
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his hands still on your waist. “You know.. I think you look even better with the 98 than I do.”
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “How could anyone look better than the OG?”
“I dunno..” Connor shrugged lightly. “I never thought someone could, but you proved me wrong.”
The compliment made your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. You turned back toward the stove to stir the sauce, trying to hide how flustered you felt. Connor stayed right behind you, arms loosely around your middle again.
“Seriously, thank you,” he said, voice dropping softer. “It looks so good on you. I don’t understand why you’re so shy when it comes to me. I’m just a guy.”
You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Yeah, just Connor Bedard.”
He chuckled warmly at that, the sound rumbling close to your ear. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. The kiss lingered for a moment before he slowly trailed it toward your lips.
His mouth met yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss. One of his hands came up to cup your jaw tenderly as he deepened it just a little, pouring all the happiness and warmth he felt into that single touch.
when the couple behind your table starts fighting.
will smith, macklin celebrini, connor bedard, fraser minten x reader
will smith
oh he is absolutely trained by his older sister. it's shocking how he's noticed before you. while his intuition when something... juicy and gossip-worthy is about to happen is uncanny, the way he still can't control his expression is painfully obvious.
he's mid-bite of the steak he cut up when his eyes dart behind you. he's immediately dialed in, eyes hilariously wide and focused. you glance over your shoulder to find what he's looking at. their table is tilted in such a way that you get a full scope of the scene.
the guy sits with both hands on the table, talking like he’s trying to carry the entire conversation on his own. across from him, the girl looks anywhere but at him, her responses short and barely there.
you think nothing of it at first, opting to focus on the food in front of you but the way will's eyes dart over your shoulder (more often that you'd like) makes you all the more curious about the scene behind you.
their food arrives, and whatever conversation he was trying to keep afloat dissolves. they eat in silence. every now and then, he looks up at her, offering small, hopeful smiles she doesn’t return.
finally, you turn to will and he's genuinely locked in, sitting slightly forward just to get a tiny bit of the couple's conversation. "will, are they fighting?" your voice is barely loud enough to hear over the restaurant's ambiance.
he looks at you like he's been waiting for you to say that. "oh my god you noticed too?" you let out a little laugh, "hard not to when you're dialed in on them like that. let's maybe not be too obvious, babe!" your foot nudges his under the table. he let's out his own laugh.
"no but i've been looking over there and that girl's been waiting on that table since we've sat down" he says through gritted teeth, eyes wide and shocked at the situation, your face mirrors his instantly and your hand goes up to cover your mouth. "fuck, seriously? what an ass. who even does that?"
"right?!" will's voice slips out loud enough that the table beside you looks at him, he offers them a short apology and clears his throat. "right?" he tries again, voice appropriately low this time.
you both fall into a quieter kind of watching after that, less obvious but no less invested. the girl finally sets her fork down, says something you can’t quite catch. and suddenly, she stands, grabs her bag, and walks out without looking back.
you and will exchange a look at the exact same time. “good for her,” you murmur.
“good for her,” he echoes, a little too satisfied, before catching himself and ducking his head with a grin. your foot nudges his again under the table, and this time he nudges back.
macklin celebrini
you notice it before he does. the mood of the table beside you is dark and brooding, distracting you from the shared pizookie you and mack have. you angle your head to hear the conversation between the couple. a lot of quiet back and forths.
he notices your inattentiveness when he doesn't hear you say anything about one of his teammates slipping on the ice in practice earlier. then he notices you're barely eating any of the dessert, your spoon just pushing it around more than anything.
his brows knit as he watches you, following the tilt of your head. clearly, he's bothered that your attention isn't on him. "what is it?" his spoon clinks yours to grab your attention.
you don't answer him just yet, eyes flicking to the table beside you.
“what?” he whispers, leaning in. “what’s going on?” your tongue clicks, head shaking slightly, like you’re trying not to get caught. “mack,” you murmur, barely moving your lips, trying not to get frustrated at his cluelessness “just— just listen.”
he frowns, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “listen to what?”
your eyes roll behind your closed eyes, they open just to flick toward the table again “shh—” he exhales quietly through his nose, frustrated himself. but he listens. really listens this time.
mack's brows shoot up and he lets out a sound of realization, a little too loud for your liking. "mack—" you hiss and hit his spoon this time. you cough, a bit too fake but it's enough that the couple beside you doesn't notice that both of you are now leaning in on their argument.
he mutters a small apology as his lips press together and his eyes are wide—fully invested. the girl’s voice comes through a little clearer now that both of you are silent as a mouse.
the girl is undoubtedly irritated and all the more frustrated at the man in front of her. she says something about him never taking her seriously, about how every time she brings something up, he brushes it off like it’s a joke. the guy says something in response, low and defensive, and she immediately cuts him off.
the pizookie between you goes mostly untouched now, your spoons moving absentmindedly, more habit than hunger. every now and then, one of you takes a bite, but it’s not for the dessert anymore—it’s something to do while you listen, like buttered popcorn at a movie.
mack leans in closer, voice barely above a whisper. “he’s deflecting,” he says, way too serious about it.
you stifle a laugh. “i know, the audacity of this guy” you let out a scoff.
you both fall quiet again, listening like it’s the most important thing in the world.
a few minutes passes.
and then another.
you glance at your phone briefly, eyes widening just a little. “oh my god,” you whisper. “we’ve been here way longer than we planned.” your realization only deepens when the vanilla ice cream on top has now melted into a puddle of white.
your own boyfriend doesn’t even look at you, eyes still fixed past your shoulder. “in a minute,” he murmurs.
you stare at him in disbelief.
“i need to see how this ends.”
connor bedard
you've barely handed back the menu to the waiter before your ears perk at the sound of quiet screaming laced with frustration and disbelief. you look to your left to see a couple at the next table, the woman throwing her hands up in exasperation while the man fumbles to say something.
connor, with nothing else to do, follows your gaze. he understands immediately and he lets out a breath. he hums, dismissive. “couple fight. happens.”
a breath comes through your nose and you shake your head as you try and make sense of the situation, your hand even comes up so you can rest your chin there. "what the hell could they be fighting about," you mutter, more to yourself than anything.
connor reaches for his water as he leans back on his chair, "probably something stupid." but then the girl's voice is an octave higher and says something about him not having any more time for her, with practices early in the mornings until late at night, and his gear is all over their place.
your own boyfriend perks up, because even if the girl never explicitly said anything about hockey, it's undeniable that the guy across your table is an athlete.
“…no way,” he mutters, almost to himself. your eyebrows raise as you glance at him, already knowing.
his posture changes instantly—no more leaning back, no more letting whatever conversation was happening next to you go in one ear and out the other. he sets his glass down slowly, eyes widening slightly as he looks at you, properly this time.
“hey,” he says quickly, leaning forward, voice low but urgent. “i would never do that to you.”
you blink at him, a little lost on what he’s trying to say. “what?”
“i wouldn’t–” he cuts himself off and breathes out heavily, like he's trying to calm himself down. “like... early practices—sure i can't control that—but I wouldn’t just… leave my stuff out everywhere and also ignore you. that’s—no.” he shakes his head, almost offended at the idea. “that’s bad.. really bad.”
you laugh at his internal panic. “oh my god connor,” you whisper, half amused, “no one said you would.”
he puts his hands up in mock surrender, “i’m just saying,” he continues anyway, “i wouldn’t do that.”
before you could provide any more assurance, the guy on the other table speaks up, his expression is annoyed more than anything and says that she should have seen it coming and that she knew what she was signing up for.
"what the fuck?" there's an incredulous look to connor's face and his head shakes in disbelief, you can't help but mirror his own disbelief with a hand over your open mouth.
the next few minutes pass with him barely touching his food. his fork only moves to push the vegetables around his plate.
“…he’s deflecting,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward just a little.
you blink at him but nod in agreement “he is.”
"which means he's guilty." he adds, finally putting some food in his mouth, like he's sure of what he's saying.
"of what exactly?"
"of being wrong? of being an absolute trash of a boyfriend and man—if he even is one."
you turn back to him, eyebrows raised. “oh so you know them now?”
“i can tell,” he insists, leaning in a little more as his shoulders shrug, voice dropping like he’s breaking down post-game footage. “look at her, she’s not even surprised. she’s just… done.”
right on cue, theres an abrupt screeching noise from the table beside you, the girl's chair moves as she stands up.
you watch as his entire posture changes, sitting up straighter now, completely dialed in. his fork is abandoned on the plate as his hands come together, preparing for the worst.
“wait–wait, this is where it gets good,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing. and you stare at him in pure amusement "you're acting like this is a live game or something."
"because it is." he shoots back quietly, not even bothering to look at you. "incredibly high stakes here."
a string of profanities leaves her mouth as she reaches for her glass and throws the contents of it over her now ex-boyfriend.
"oh my god.." you and connor say at the same time, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them
the entire table—and restaurant goes still. the guy looks completely stunned, water dripping from his hair and collar, while she stands there—chest rising and falling, hands shaking just slightly as her hand forms as fist.
connor slowly leans back in his chair, both hands coming up to rest on his head like he just witnessed the craziest play of his life.
“no way,” he breathes out, half in disbelief, half in awe.
“that was absolute cinema.”
fraser minten
you're halfway through putting a forkful of pasta in your mouth when you notice it. the uncomfortable kind of silence and the intimidating aura radiating from the table behind fraser.
you notice the way the guy’s fork scrapes a little too loudly against his plate. the way the girl hasn’t touched her drink. then suddenly, a sharp exhale and a serious, irritated look comes from her.
your eyes widen as you lean in closer, trying to make sense of the situation.
“…not what i'm trying to say,” the guy mutters.
“then what are you trying to say?” she shoots back, harsh yet quiet.
across from you, your boyfriend is focused on his food. he's getting his last chew of his chicken when he notices your line of sight falls behind him.
"what?" he says a little too loudly as he looks directly at the couple's table.
your feet moves quickly to kick at his shin. "don't make it too obvious!" you say through gritted teeth.
you both overcompensate by looking down at your food and picking at it. thankfully, the couple is too absorbed in their own fight that they paid no mind to both of you.
both of you remain quiet after that, with fraser taking quick glances behind him sometimes craning his head to hear their fight better.
gradually, you see his expression shift from confusion to a slight irritation.
"i have to go." he says with the kind of urgency that's almost worrying.
you don't get a single word in when he's already pushing his chair back as he makes a beeline towards the bathroom, which is coincidentally right past their table.
you watch him go, narrowing your eyes slightly as he just so happens to slow down near them, head tilting the slightest bit.
“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.
he's gone longer than necessary.
when he finally comes back, he doesn’t even try to act normal, sliding into his seat with a look that says everything.
you don’t even bother easing into it "what did you hear?” you lean in close, grabbing his sleeve.
"no—genuinely you cannot make this shit up babe," your boyfriend laughs to himself, knowing what he's about to say is absurd.
“he turned his phone off during his game without telling her beforehand,” he explains. “i think she was checking in because she didn’t know where he was or if something went wrong. totally reasonable, right?”
you nod along.
“and then, he got annoyed at the messages instead of... i don't know—understanding why she was sending them?!” fraser's voice heightens and the tension in his body is visible as he continues.
“so now he’s saying stuff like she’s the problem for not ‘knowing he’d be busy.’” the last part he air quotes with all the sarcasm in his body, eyes rolling.
you scoff at the audacity of the man, eyes flickering to him. "yeah he seems like the type," your head shakes in disappointment.
"hmm," your boyfriend hums in agreement. "you don't get to disappear on someone like that and then get mad when they react and get worried." he shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it is. but it apparently is not for the man in the table next to yours.
suddenly, you start to make sense of the situation, and how silly it is (at least from your perspective)
because how can fraser know all this?
you barely know the couple. you've caught maybe half a dozen of cut-off conversations at most. and yet he manages to get a full narrative before the clock's even had the chance to change the hour.
you eyes narrow a him just a little and he notices, he shifts in his seat like he's the one in trouble now.
"how do you know all this frase?"
he shrugs and looks down, seeming guilty. "i listened when i went to the bathroom."
"right..." you trail off, waiting for him to say anything else. he doesn't.
"you barely passed by their table though?" your head tilts, catching his eyes for a moment.
"i may have... stayed back to listen to the servers gossip." he confesses, muttering the last part like he's admitting to a crime.
you stare at him, deadpan. "fraser,,, babe."
"what?" he replies quickly as he straightens a little and finally makes eye contact with you. "it wasn't my fault they were loud enough for me to hear!'
you shake your head, a laugh slipping out despite yourself. “you’re unbelievable.”
he shrugs, completely unbothered now and he smiles at himself. "this is peak citizen journalism, babe."
notes: i HAD to get this out today. also.. got suddenly invited to a summit/seminar thing WHEN HALF MY STUFF IS AT HOME SO IM DOING WITH WHAT I HAVE IN MY DORM. which means i wrote this on my ipad and phone. no one gets to judge me if its buns 🥹✌️
