#fraser minten

[beauvilliers]

IIHF World Championship 2026 Canada vs. Denmark | May 18, 2026

[cel-brini]

LOL

[goaliegardens]

mintbrini smiling and cheesing at each other on the bench 😭😭😭

[rinkmuse]

it's my first time asking I'm nervous 🥹

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.

she's young, nervous, holding something small. "are you...?" she asks, trailing off.

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

[wcters]

My Baby Loves Me, Yeah!

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.

[babyleostuff2]

₊˚𓂃˖𝜗𝜚。𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄

pairing(s): fraser minten, connor bedard, sidney crosby, will smith, macklin celebrini, william eklund x fem!reader

summary: things only their girlfriend can get away with/ girlfriend privileges

you can find the request here

fm⁹³ masterlist ☁️ cb⁹⁸ masterlist ☁️ sc⁸⁷ masterlist ☁️ ws² masterlist ☁️ mc⁷¹ masterlist ☁️ we⁷² masterlist

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

whether it was his own apartment, a friend’s place, or his family home, the left corner of the couch belonged to fraser. he told you it was just a reflex, something automatic, to gravitate toward that side when you asked him why that spot specifically. and while that was true, there was more to it. he always sat on the left side in cars, or slept on the left when he and his brother had to share a bed. as silly as it might sound, the left side just reminded him of home and childhood.

of course, when people who didn’t know him well took his sacred little spot, he didn’t get angry. but the second connor, mason, or one of his cousins even dared to look in that direction, fraser would shoo them away or drag them off the couch by their feet.

that’s why during summer, when you were over at his parents’ house with nearly the whole family present and everyone mingling, people exchanged looks when you took fraser’s spot, some silently considering whether they should tell you to move. but then something no one expected happened: fraser simply walked over with the softest smile, the one reserved just for you, so different from all his others. he sat down next to you, kissed your temple, and rested his head on your shoulder.

“you know, i was wondering,” you said one night, looking at fraser in the mirror as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed.

“hmm?” his blue eyes met yours in the reflection, the corners of his mouth still messy with toothpaste.

“why do you let me sit on your side of the couch? you nearly threw connor over your shoulder the other day, but you never make me move.”

fraser stopped mid-motion, set his toothbrush aside, and rinsed his mouth. you could see the tips of his ears turn red as he patted his face dry with a towel. he reached for his glasses and cleared his throat nervously.

“i guess… i guess it’s comforting, in a sense,” he said. “that sounds so stupid.”

you wrapped your arm around his waist, and with your mouth still full of toothpaste, you mumbled, “not at all, baby.”

fraser cracked a smile and shook his head slightly. “it’s the same as you wearing my jersey. or when you text me goodnight on road trips. or when you grab my hand in crowds. seeing you sit in my spot just makes me feel like i’m truly at home.”

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑

connor means business when it comes to food – you do not touch what’s his. he’s reluctant to share even a bite of his order, always bawling internally when handing over a portion for someone else to taste. when he was younger, connor used to throw tantrums if anyone touched something he had left for later in the fridge, and would give his cousins and friends the silent treatment, stubbornly ignoring them for the rest of the day (until someone bribed him with extra food).

years later, at nearly 21 years old, he still acts like a grumpy little kid whenever someone messes with his food.

enter you, who can get his whole meal without even having to ask. sometimes you joke that he’s acting like a mom of five, but connor just shakes his head and insists you need to eat to stay healthy and strong. that makes perfect sense – but what doesn’t is how anyone else is met with a threat of murder for taking one of connor’s fries, while you get a whole burger handed over without a single complaint.

fraser took advantage of connor being distracted by a couple of kids at the table next to yours and reached for a nugget from his plate. “so did you– ouch,” he exclaimed, looking at the red patch forming on his skin where your boyfriend had just slapped his hand away. “what now?” humour laced his voice as he noticed connor’s unamused stare. “it’s just a piece of chicken, man. you just drank half my coke.”

“yeah, but that’s different,” connor muttered, glancing between the nuggets and his friend, ready to defend them if fraser tried to steal another one.

“oh yeah? how so?”

your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and you could help the giggle to escape your lips. 

“oh my god, why do you always have to ask so many questions?” he groaned, throwing his head back. “i don’t know. it just is,” he said, but reluctantly put one of the nuggets on fraser’s plate. “just eat it before i change my mind.”

“your boyfriend is a child.” 

“tell me about it,” you replied, nudging connor with your elbow and reached for his fries, dipping them in ketchup. “have to live with it almost 24/7.”

“here, just have them all,” connor said, letting the teasing go over his head as he slid the plate toward you, a small, content smile settling on his face.

“you’re impossible,” fraser breathed, shaking his head. “you nearly decapitated me over one nugget, and she gets a whole plate?”

connor simply shrugged. in his mind, it made perfect sense – and that was the end of the discussion.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘

sidney has always been a bit… particular about his personal belongings. it wasn’t that he got angry or frustrated when people moved his sticks, spilled coffee on that one navy suit jacket he’d been planning to wear for the game the next night, or commented on his shoulder pads that had somehow survived what felt like the ten plagues of egypt. okay, maybe sometimes he did. but more than anger, what he really felt was discomfort – that quiet, uneasy shift inside him, like something had been slightly knocked out of place and his thoughts couldn’t help but circle it.

some days he handled it better. on others, even the smallest change could feel like too much, building into something he couldn’t easily ignore.

that was why everyone around him had learned to be careful with sid’s things, careful not to disturb the order that made everything feel just a little more manageable for him.

but if there was one person who could rearrange his ties in the closet, move the vase in the living room to a different spot, or tease him about his ancient gear, it was you.

and if sid ever tried to explain why that tight, anxious feeling softened when it was you, he wouldn’t have the right words at first. eventually, he’d probably say it was because you made everything feel safe. familiar. like nothing could truly be wrong if it was you. your trust, your warmth, your understanding – they didn’t erase the feeling completely, but they quieted it, like a hand gently smoothing out the edges of his thoughts.

and whenever any of the boys were at your place and you happened to be cleaning or ironing his suits, they never dared to joke about it or tease sid about how you could do it, but they couldn’t. instead, they would just exchange quiet, knowing smiles in your direction – the kind that didn’t need words. it wasn’t something they questioned. it just… was. the way you looked after him fit so naturally into the rhythm of his life that it almost felt like it had always been there.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋

will is a certified blanket hogger. his cousins hated his ass when he came over for sleepovers, and their mum made them sleep in one bed. he’d leave them cold and shivering, wrapped in a cocoon from head to toe, only his blond curls would stick out (which also happened to be a perfect target for them to pull to wake him up). 

and while will doesn’t consider himself to be a selfish person in the slightest, when it comes to duvets, blankets or whatever else he uses as a cover during sleep, it’s his and only his. there is no point in trying to steal it even after he falls asleep – he’ll wake up just enough to yank it back and, in the process, probably leave you with a bruise from blindly searching for the edge.

so imagine his cousins’ outrage when, during one of your trips back to his home, they found you asleep on the couch, actually covered. and he was right there next to you, the blanket barely draped over him. 

“i’m going to strangle him.” 

“this little fucker.” 

“are we sure it’s him.” 

they truly couldn’t believe their eyes, because how could this be the same person who had terrorised them just a few years back. at the same time, they couldn’t deny how adorable you two looked, especially with how pathetically in love will looked, even while napping. 

it was one of the first things you noticed when you started dating him – how gentle he became in small, quiet ways. the way he’d tuck you in before leaving for practice in the morning, careful not to wake you. how he’d drape a blanket over you when you fell asleep on his shoulder during movie nights. how, even half-asleep, he’d adjust it around you, making sure you were warm.

when he sleeps beside you, he’s still a blanket hogger. just not for himself.

𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍

mack is rather… strict about the music he listens to in the car. especially in the morning. after games. after losing games. before dinner. when he’s stuck in traffic. ideally, he wouldn’t listen to music at all – but since he’s usually getting rides from other people, he has no choice but to submit to the torture that is someone’s shitty taste in music. and most of the time, it’s not even about the music itself. mack just gets overstimulated by the sound. he’s surrounded by noise almost 24/7, rarely getting the chance to just sit in silence, so music, in general, is a sore subject for him.

will, who’s been permanently banned from touching the AUX, is the most unhappy about this arrangement. you’d think he’d get special treatment, but whenever he even tries to go near it, mack threatens to leave him in the middle of the road. bribing you doesn’t work either.

you’re the only one who can play whatever you want without him getting irritated. rock, taylor swift, EDM, k-pop, jazz – whatever your heart desires. he’ll just nod along, drumming his fingers against the wheel from time to time.

“dude, we’ve been listening to this girly shit for like an hour now,” will groaned from the backseat, throwing his head against the headrest. too bad he lost rock-paper-scissors for the passenger seat, though mack would’ve made him sit in the back anyway. maybe then he would’ve had a chance to put something else on.

“oh my god, stop whining.”

your boyfriend looked like he was five seconds away from murdering his best friend, who just wouldn’t shut up. both of their hair was still messy from the shower, their suits wrinkled by now, but mack looked like he’d just come out of the trenches.

“then let me put something else on.”

“no.”

mack didn’t even glance at him as he turned the volume up, earning a quiet giggle from you, and another dramatic groan from will.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌

wille is sunshine personified – a smile never leaves his face. he’s kind and patient, and you swear his laugh could make even the biggest grump crack. he’s great, although a little shy with new people, always making polite small talk and going out of his way to compliment them. he’s the type of guy your mum and grandma would instantly fall in love with, and your dad would already be figuring out how to get him over for the next barbecue.

however, beware.

your sweet, golden-retriever boyfriend has one very specific trigger: his swedish candy. he does not play about that shit. first of all, he has a special place in his apartment to store it, as if it were the crown jewels. you used to joke that he should install laser beams around the drawer in case anyone tried to steal from it.

wille didn’t find that funny. because, again – this is serious business.

whenever you have someone over and he forgets to hide it, and they ask if they can have some, you have to suppress the laughter bubbling up at your boyfriend’s miserable expression. still, asking is one thing, at least he’s prepared. but when mack, will, and misa pulled a prank on him and somehow managed to steal the entire drawer, he almost saw the gates of heaven.

obviously, you’re the exception. even better – he always gets extra smiley when he sees you eating it. there’s just something about watching you enjoy something that’s so dear to him. like you’re indulging in the real him – the wille eklund part, not just the san jose hockey player.

the fact that you want to try food and sweets from his country? it makes him melt every time.

so if there’s one person who can get away with stealing his precious candy, it’s you – and only you.

[geonuks]

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 🥹✌️

[pucksonnetboys]

Mack and Fraser getting into it w the ref about that cross check lmao (IIHF worlds 2026 Canada vs Denmark 18.5.26)