#mc71 fic

“I agree, but you’ll get me for a few days. Then I’ll be back in July, and you have me until August.”

“That’s like over a month away, baby.”

“It’s going to go faster than you think it will.” You zip your suitcase closed.

“Time to go, honey!” Your mom yells from downstairs.

“I gotta go, Mack. I’ll call you when I get to New York.” You grab your passports, the small gift you got him for his birthday, and put it into your backpack. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the call and roll your suitcase out of your room.

“Got everything?” Your mom asks and grabs her car keys, “Both passports?”

“Got both,” You show off the two blue booklets.

“Perfect time to go. I’ll meet you in London with your tournament gear, but find a court when you can. We don't want you to lose strength this next week.” You grab your smaller tennis bag from the floor and put it on your suitcase.

“I will, Mack’s sister plays, so maybe I’ll be able to convince her to play with me.”

“Sounds good, but remember to have fun too.” You pack your stuff into the car to head to the airport. “But don’t drink too much and wear protection.”

“Mom!” You look at her wide-eyed.

“What? I was 19 when I got pregnant with you. I know what’s going on.” She chuckles and starts the car.

“Well, I know that.”

“Just be safe, please, I’m your mom, I’ll always worry about you.” She pats your hand and pulls out of the garage.

“I’ll be safe. Promise.” You smile and settle back into your seat.

“Good, I don’t want to have to fly up there. I know your dad will.” You agree with her statement.

“He would.” You laugh and pull out your phone to send a text to Mack’s mom.

Mack’s whole family knows you're coming for his birthday, a joint surprise you’d been planning for the last few weeks while you were in Paris for the French Open. A quick trip for his birthday before you had to leave for London, and he trained his ass off for the upcoming season. He was sure to be surprised if no one spoiled said surprise.

You look out the window, giddy with anticipation.

•••

When you get to Vancouver, you hastily get ready to meet Mack and his family for his birthday dinner. You throw on a nice top and jeans, after a hot shower and fresh makeup, before you Uber to the restaurant.

Mack’s mom, Robyn, kept you updated on their location just so you didn’t show up to the restaurant before they did. She’d texted you the go-ahead, and you arrived at the restaurant just moments later.

“Hello, Miss.” The hostess greets you.

“I’m with the Celebrini party.” You respond, and she nods in understanding, leading you in the direction of the more private area.

“Just through that archway.”

“Thank you so much.” You smile and walk through to the semi-private room.

Mack, his parents, and three siblings are all conversing amongst themselves, none aware of your presence.

“Is there room for one more?” You ask, and the family looks up at you.

Mack does a double-take before bolting out of his seat and over to you. “You’re here? You’re actually here?”

You give him a tight hug, and Mack practically wraps himself around you. You laugh as you both almost topple over.

“Surprise.” You practically hold all of his body weight on you. “Happy Birthday, Mack.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Your bodies sway back and forth as you hold him tightly.

“What about New York?” He pulls his head back.

“The plan was to come here the whole time.”

“That’s a sneaky plan.” He kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, but you’re hard to surprise.” You shrug and nod to the table, “Let’s sit.”

“What about London?” Mack pulls out your chair, and you sit down next to him.

“I’m leaving from here. You have me for the next few days.” You smile at him.

“Not more?”

“I’ll be back in July, and then the US Open isn’t until September.” You scoot your chair in before turning to his family. “Sorry, it’s rude of me not to greet you guys. It’s nice to see you all again.”

“It’s no problem, Y/N, we’re happy you’re here.” Robyn shakes her head, her smile is the same one you see on Mack all the time.

“Thank you for having me.”

“Mack has been moping around, so thank you for putting us out of that misery.” Aiden teases, and Rick gives his eldest a pointed look.

“Can you play tennis with me?” Charlie blurts out excitedly.

“Let’s not bombard Y/N.” Robyn tries to get a hold of the situation.

“It’s okay. I was hoping I could convince you to be my hitting partner anyway.” You wink, and Charlie looks triumphant.

“Why do you look like that?” RJ speaks up, confused at the look on Macklin’s face. A soft smile, with hazy eyes focused solely on you. It could only be described as a look of pure love.

“I’m being made fun of on my birthday.” Mack scrubs a hand down his face, but he hasn’t stopped grinning. “This is crazy, you’re all supposed to be nice to me.”

“Birthdays protect no one from familial teasing.” You pat his thigh. You feel him tense underneath your hand, but make nothing of it as you pull away.

“Guess not.” Mack catches your hand before it settles back in your lap. Pulling it so it’s entwined with his on top of his thigh.

“Y/N, how are your studies going?” Rick asks, and you take a sip of your water.

You clear your throat before speaking, “They’re going really well! I'm learning a lot, but I’m happy with what I chose to major in.”

“Remind me what that is again?”

“Sports Medicine. I’m thinking of possibly using it to get my PhD in Biomechanics later on down the road.” Rick nods, impressed, and you do a celebration on the inside.

“How do you balance that with the WTA tours and challengers?” He questions.

“Meticulously,” You laugh, “but really, my advisor is helping a lot. I’m currently in like five online courses right now to transfer credits just to make sure I can graduate on time, early even.”

“You have a solid plan.”

“I can’t take all the credit. My mom is also helping me navigate this.” You feel Mack’s thumb run over your knuckles, but you aren’t sure if the motion is supposed to be comforting you or him.

“Well, she’s doing a very great job.” Robyn chimes in.

“I’d say so too.” You agree.

Mack is talking with his siblings, their increasing noise level as you speak with his parents gives you an inkling that they’re arguing about something. All of a sudden, Charlie is fully leaning over Mack and pushing him against the back of his chair.

“Y/N, you have to tell me what the Australian and French Open were like.” She says excitedly as Mack tries to push her off of him.

“Get off of me.”

“I’m trying to ask Y/N a question.” She looks at her older brother, eyes narrowing.

“You could do it while sitting in your chair.” He grumbles, and she rolls her eyes, but relents, sitting in her chair properly.

“Better?” Charlie asks snarkily.

“Much.” Mack matches her bratty tone.

“Okay, please tell me everything about the Opens. Like everything.”

You turn to face Charlie more, knees bumping with Mack’s thigh. You make no move to adjust your position, keeping the point of contact. You watch Mack’s face flush, but don’t comment on it.

“They were crazy, like an adrenaline high that I couldn’t come off of. Like, after I got out of the Australian Open, I was genuinely bouncing off the walls. My nervous system was so out of whack that I couldn’t come down from this self-induced high. I crashed when I got back to California, and I was sick for a week.”

“Really?” She tilted her head.

“Really. Like once my body was finally aware that I wasn’t in the tournament anymore, my immune system shut down with it.” You laugh, “But it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I didn’t do the greatest at the Australian Open, but honestly, just being there was surreal.”

“I bet. But the French Open.” Charlie does a jaw drop motion, “I watched every match. The upsets were crazy.”

“I know,” You nod, “Being there and watching it happen in real time is something else.”

“For sure! You made it really far this time, too!”

“I know! I was proud of myself for making it to the quarterfinals. Like my second Grand Slam tournament.” You grin, and Mack squeezes your hand.

“We’ve been following along with Charlie and Mack. For your first professional season, you’re doing really well.” Robyn places a soft hand on your forearm.

“Thank you, it means a lot.” A warmth fills your chest from the kind words.

“No need to thank us.” She shakes her head.

“I know, but I still will because it really does mean a lot to me.”

“I’ll let go this time.” Robyn pats your arm before placing her hand back in her lap, and you laugh with her.

“Okay.” You grin.

•••

The rest of Mack’s birthday dinner goes really well. You talk with his entire family, and you feel closer to the Celebrini’s. You and Charlie already have plans to hit the courts every day while you’re in Vancouver. You’ve given Rick your Mom’s contact info so they can converse on college plans for the rest of the Celebrini kids. RJ is still confused and unsure of what emotions his older brother is experiencing. Aiden wants to take you and Mack bar hopping, but Mack promptly shuts it down because he wants to spend the rest of his birthday with you only.

“Happy birthday, honey. Be safe tonight.” Robyn gives Mack a hug.

“I will.”

“Be aware of your surroundings, and Uber back to Y/N’s hotel.” Rick pats him on the back.

“I will, Dad.” Mack nods, taking your hand.

“Drink something for me.” Aiden smacks his shoulder, and Mack just rolls his eyes.

“Alright, time to go,” Rick says, and the rest of the Celebrinis walk in the opposite direction from you two.

You both start walking down the pavement, Mack’s hand finds yours, easily pulling you closer into his side. He slows to a stop on the street, and you stop with him.

“Everything okay, baby?” You ask as Mack wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” You take his face into your hands.

Mack leans down and captures your mouth with his. Your mouths move against each other, heat and friction buzzing underneath your skin. His tongue prods at your bottom lip, but you pull away. Mack lets out a whine, his mouth forming a pout.

“Baby…”

“Do you want to go to the bar? Or do you just want to go back to my hotel?” You ask, hands sliding down his neck.

“I need you.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. You know the answer to your own question.

“Let me order an Uber.” You mumble back and reach for your phone.

Mack's hand creeps up underneath your top, splayed on the skin of your stomach. He’s pulled you flush against his body, holding you as you tap through your phone ordering a car.

“Can it get here faster?”

“It’ll be here in five.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, the impatience humming through his body.

“Too long.” He groans and lets his head fall to the crook of your neck.

“You’ll survive. I also have to give you your present. It’s in my hotel room.” You hum and watch the little car on your screen get closer.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. You’re here on my birthday, that's enough for me.”

“That is very sweet of you, but it won’t make my gift go away.” You wrap your arm around his torso, giving his side a mischievous squeeze.

“Fine.” Mack kisses your neck softly before pulling his head back up.

The Uber pulls up next to the curb, and Mack pulls open the door for you. You step inside, and he follows suit, sliding into the seat next to you. His hand finds your thigh as the car pulls into the street, fingers caressing the seam on the inner thigh of your jeans. You haven’t been in each other's presence since April. So you two have also been on a two-month stint of unwilling celibacy. His hand tries to creep higher, but you politely grab it and place it on your lap. You send him a sharp look and jerk your head in the direction of the driver.

You could already see the headlines: “Uber Driver Tells All: NHL Star, Macklin Celebrini and Girlfriend Caught Getting Handsy in the Backseat.” You would be relegated to the title of girlfriend or Sidney Crosby’s daughter, depending on which news source is writing the article. So it was best to stay respectful in public.

The driver pulls up to your hotel, and you give a quick thanks before letting Macklin lead you out of the back seat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You chuckle as he drags you into the hotel.

“No, but you’ll tell me.” He says matter-of-factly.

“This way.” You take the reins and walk towards the elevator.

You look over at Mack, his pupils blown wide. He looks intoxicated, but it can’t be the case. Neither of you has had a lick of alcohol all night. The moment the elevator doors slide closed, Mack’s mouth is attacking yours.

“You are really impatient.” You mutter between kisses.

“It’s been two months, baby, cut me some slack here. Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”

“You can miss me.” You smile and peck his mouth again, “Missing me is very much appreciated.”

“Did you miss me?” Mack raises a brow, noticing the lack of verbal reciprocation on the feeling.

“So much.”

“Good.” Mack presses one last kiss to your cheek as the bell of the elevator rings.

You lead Mack down the hallway and unlock the door to your room. You toe off your shoes and start removing your jewelry. Earrings and rings first, before the bracelets and necklaces, save for the bracelet Mack got for your birthday and the necklace with your birthstone that you never take off.

Mack sits down on the hotel bed, watching you put the accessories into your travel case, fingers tapping on his thigh incessantly.

“Do you want your present now or later?” You ask, looking over your shoulder.

“Later. Can you please just come over here? I'm dying, baby.” Mack whines, and you move to the bed.

“Dying? Should I call the doctors?” You ask, swinging your leg over his lap, hands braced on his shoulders. Mack’s hands grip your waist as you settle into his hold.

“No, just need you.”

“So I’m the remedy?” You run your fingers through his hair, and the feeling of his cock starting to press against the zipper of his pants has you smirking.

“And the problem.” He jokes, and you roll your eyes.

“I can tell.” You tease and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “What does the birthday boy want?”

“You.”

“Well, I know that, but anything specific? What do you need?” His eyes nearly roll back into his head every time your nails scrape against his scalp.

“Nothing specific, just want to be with you.” He says sweetly, and you give him a real kiss this time.

Warmth seeps into your bones as your hands move from Mack’s hair, down his neck and chest, before reaching the hem of his shirt.

“Can I take it off?” You mutter against his mouth, and he nods.

You work the shirt over his head, discarding it behind you somewhere, all the while still kissing him. Mack’s tongue prods at the seam of your mouth, and you let him inside. He moves the hair away from your neck and presses wet kisses on the skin. You cradle his head in your hands as he continues his assault. Mack sucks a particularly harsh hickey right below your ear, causing you to gasp. The sensation is replaced by his tongue darting out to soothe the bruise. His hips buck into yours, pressing the seam of your jeans right into your clit, and shudders of building pleasure roll through your body. Your underwear is growing damp by the minute.

“You’re disgusting.” You chide, feeling Mack smile against your neck.

“And yet you’ve never told me to stop.” He grins up at you before taking your weight from his lap and flipping you to lie flat on the bed.

“I can like it and still think you’re gross.” You widen your legs and let Mack settle between them.

You pull off your shirt and throw it to where you’d put Mack’s. The black lace bra you had on underneath has him groaning and shifting to hover over top of you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You tease, and Mack takes offense.

“That’s all you have to say about me?” He gasps and pinches your side.

“Don’t worry, I think you're beautiful, too, pretty boy.” You cup his cheek as Mack’s hand moves up and down your jean-covered outer thigh.

“I was really worried there for a second.” He leans down and kisses your mouth one last time before making his way down your body.

His lips trail down your neck and collarbone, mouthing at the skin of your sternum before moving to the swells of your breasts. Mack finds the waistband of your jeans, sitting back on his haunches to undo the fly. You help him shimmy them off of you, and he takes off his own pants as well, the hard line of his dick evident behind his tented briefs. The pile of clothes on the floor continues to accumulate.

“Need any help with that?” You tease, sitting up on your forearms.

“Maybe later.”

“No birthday blowjob?” Your gaze follows him as he moves back up your body to be face-to-face.

“Tempting, but I want to taste you first.” Mack grins as your hand runs through his hair, fingertips trailing lightly over his face.

“All of the options in the world, and he wants to be the giver on his birthday.” Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he bites at the tip of it.

“What I like the look of you all fucked out.” He settles between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Jesus.” You groan, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“My name is Mack, baby.” You roll your eyes hard.

“You’re ridiculous like that was actually the worst joke ever.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He leans forward to rest his face on your stomach, pressing soft kisses to your navel.

“Really?” You look at him, facial expression, asking him if he’s joking.

“Fine, it was bad.” His fingers hook underneath the sides of your underwear and pull them off completely. You’re wet, like really wet, folds glistening in the dim lamplight. If Mack could get harder than he already is, his dick would be blue. “Fuck me.”

“Trying to, but we just keep on talking.” Mack pulls you towards the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs.

“Well, I like talking with you,” He says, kissing the inside of your knee.

“I like talking too, but like I’m pretty much naked right now, and I’d really like you to eat me out.”

“I can’t say no to that.” Mack bites your sensitive inner thigh, causing you to jolt.

“Mack, please.” You plead, the heat flooding your body is filling you with anticipation.

His lips press the tiniest kiss to your clit, providing nothing to give you the high you’ve been chasing for months. Yes, the phone sex had been plentiful, but the toys and your fingers just weren’t cutting it anymore. You need Mack to give you everything you’d been waiting for.

“Mack…” Your fingers fist the sheets as he sends you a teasing smirk.

“Yeah, baby?” He rests his cheek against your thigh, stopping any progression towards your much-wanted orgasm.

“Please. I don’t want to beg for a third time.” Your voice is raspy as you look down at your boyfriend.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He hooks a leg over his shoulder and fully dives in.

He licks a long stripe through your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue. You let out a long moan as your hand tangles in his hair. You feel Mack smile against your pussy, before finding your clit and giving it a light suck.

“Oh fuck!” You tug at his hair, and Mack whines into your skin.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” Mack peers at you breathlessly, talking in between kisses and licks, “keep going.”

“You too.” You can feel your orgasm building as his tongue circles your already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fucking hell.”

Macklin is properly making out with your pussy, tongue everywhere, your clit throbbing in his mouth. The coil of pleasure is reaching its breaking point as he throws the other one of your legs over his shoulder for more leverage. His hands brace against your hips, holding them down as his tongue fucks into your entrance.

“Oh fuck, oh my god.” You throw an arm over your eyes, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Cum, please cum for me.”

You press your heels into his back, grinding into his face as best as you can in a prone position. Every time his nose bumps your clit, another wave of ecstasy brings you closer to the edge.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” You heave, chest rising rapidly.

Mack knows you’re close. The way you’re roughly gripping his hair and the incoherent string of expletives falling from your mouth are a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby.” He manages to speak before burying his face back into your folds. Mack gives one last harsh suck on your clit, and it’s over for you.

You just let go as a wash of euphoria rips through your body. Heat spreads from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers. Mack presses a few featherlight kisses to your inner thigh, being wary to not overstimulate your body.

“I don’t think I’ve come that hard in a long time.” You grin lazily, beckoning Mack to come to you.

“Yeah, are you okay?” He crawls up onto the bed, hovering over you as you push up on your forearms. Mack cranes his neck down to press his mouth to yours. You smile into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck, slowly guiding his back to the bed.

“I’m good.”

“Ready for more already?” Mack asks, hands settling on your waist.

“I bounce back quickly.” You reach your hands behind your back to unhook your bra, but you stop. “Wait, condoms.”

“In my wallet.” Mack points to his pants on the floor.

“That is so douchey of you.” You move off of him and grab his pants from the floor. You pull his wallet from the back pocket, sure enough, there is a strip of condoms where cash should be. “Like genuinely a frat boy move.”

“I just like to be prepared.” He leans against the pillows, watching you rip off one of the condoms. You find a small tube of lube you packed in your suitcase and walk to the bed.

You throw the package at him, and he catches it with ease. You unhook your bra and leave it on the floor. Mack looks you up and down, acting like he hasn’t ever seen you fully naked.

“Perv.” You straddle his lap again, his cock pressing against your ass.

“I’m just appreciating the view.” He looks up at you, hands rubbing up and down your sides.

“That’s so corny.”

“What? You look good.” Mack kisses your collarbone, fingers brushing underneath your breasts.

“Why, thank you.” You run your hands over his shoulders.

He nips at your skin, gaze roaming all over your naked body. Mack is beginning to look desperate as his hips buck up for friction. You let out a breathless sigh, the stimulation has heat pooling in your stomach.

“Baby?” He asks, pulling his head away from your neck.

“Yeah?” You respond, eyes heavy with lust.

“I want you to ride me.”

You nod and grab the condom from the bed, sliding off his lap, “Take off your briefs.”

Mack obeys quickly and pulls off his underwear quickly. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and flushed with pre-come collecting at the tip. You take the condom wrapper between your teeth and tear it open.

“Fuck that’s hot.” Mack settles back against the pillows, watching you pull out the condom.

“Anything turns you on, bro.” You joke.

“Please don’t call me bro right now.” He looks at you pointedly, but is quickly cut off by the feeling of you rolling the condom down his length.

“Sorry, baby.” You straddle him again, but stay up on your knees.

“I need to be inside you.” He groans hands cupping your hips.

“Okay.”

You look down and take hold of his dick, pour a generous amount of lube into your hand. Mack’s head lolls to the side as you pump it a few times, spreading the lube over the condom. You line it up with your entrance before sliding down the length of him. Your walls flutter around him to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully seated inside you, you both take a pause. Mack sits up, arms wrapped around your body, keeping you in place.

“Fuck I missed this.” He buries his head into your shoulder.

“Me too.” You kiss the side of his head, “I’m gonna start moving.”

You slowly rise off of him, before sinking down again, using his shoulders as leverage. Mack’s palms make a slow glide to your hips, eyes never leaving your own. You watch every twitch and movement in his face as you roll your hips slowly creating that much-needed friction. His hands cup your breasts, squeezing the flesh, stimulating your sensitive nipples.

“Not just sex, I missed you, Y/N. Like every day, I missed you.” He brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“I missed you so much, too.” You press your cheek against his.

Everything is so soft and gentle, just two people being united in the most intimate way. Mack peppers kisses on your face, trying to muffle his moans against your skin.

“Mack, baby, I want to hear you, don’t be shy with me.” Your pace starts to increase, the head of his cock bumping against your G-spot.

“Fuck baby, move faster, please.” Mack groans out loud as your walls clench around him. You grind down trying to increase the friction on your clit.

You watch Mack bite his lower lip, trying again to muffle his moans. Your hand creeps to his mouth, thumb pressing at his lips.

“Open.” You breathe out and watch him open his mouth willingly.

You press two fingers into his mouth, and he moans around your digits. You grin at the sound, pace increasing as the heat in your stomach starts to spread through your body, every nerve ending on fire. His tongue dances around your fingers, occupying his mouth as you continue to ride on his cock.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, baby.” He slurs around your fingers, saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth.

“Already?” You remove your fingers from his mouth.

“Don’t tease me.” He whines and fucks his hips into you, trying to chase his climax. Yours is building quickly, too, but you can tell Mack is about to come.

“I need more.” You sigh and snake your hand down your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Lemme help.” Mack replaces your hand with his own, fingers circling your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck that feels good.” You roll your hips faster, finding a pace that makes your orgasm start to build.

“Baby, can I cum please?” He asks, mouthing at your breasts.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You nod and throw your arms over his shoulders.

Mack guides your hips up and down his length, increasing your pace to bring him to his climax. The coil in your stomach tightens again, your orgasm approaching quickly.

“Fuck I’m right there.” He rubs your clit faster, trying to bring you right to the edge with him.

“So close.” You mutter and kiss him, moving chest to chest as you ride him. “You can cum, baby.”

“Not without you.”

Mack moves his hand from between the two of you and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths move against each other as you both tip over the edge. Mack cums first, and you follow suit moments later. You know he’ll pout, but at this point, you don’t care.

You slump forward, fully sweaty and spent, legs cramping from the position and spasming from the orgasm. Mack has his face buried in the side of your neck, mouth pressing light kisses on the skin.

“Let’s not go that long without sex again.” He jokes, and you just let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, it might have to be another month, though.”

“Not unless I come visit you in London.” Mack offers, looking up at you with his sparkly green eyes.

“What about training?” You ask, lifting your hips, slowly sliding off of him. There’s a slight emotional emptiness that comes with the sensation of being actually empty.

Mack pauses before answering, “There’s gotta be rinks in England.”

“True.” You watch him push off the bed as best as he can, rolling off the condom and discarding it in the trash. He picks up his briefs from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. “Would you really come through?”

“Would I actually come? Baby…you think that lowly of me?” He re-emerges with a wet towel to clean you up and his briefs back on.

“No, but I know you’re busy.”

“Not too busy for you, your first Wimbledon is a big fucking deal, and I already feel bad enough that I missed the Australian and French Opens. I’ll be there.” Mack picks up his shirt from the floor and hands it to you.

“Okay,” You smile, warmth flooding your chest, you just love him so much.

“Can I?” He touches your knee softly, and you nod, parting your legs again.

Mack cleans you up, making sure to be careful with your sensitive skin. You pull his shirt over your head when he’s done wiping between your legs.

“Oh! Your birthday present. Gimme a second.”

“Take your time.” Mack settles back onto the bed.

You push onto shaky legs and walk to the bathroom, making sure to pee so you don’t get a UTI. You exit the bathroom and grab a clean pair of underwear, sliding them on before reaching for the small box containing Macklin’s gift.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” Mack sighs and takes the box from your hand as you crawl into bed beside him.

“I know, but I love you, and I give gifts to people I love, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I guess I will,” He undoes the ribbon and pulls off the top of the box. “What did you get me?”

“Just look in the box.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching him pull the piece of paper from the box.

“It’s paper.” He teases, holding the folded sheet.

“Read it.” You pinch his arm.

His eyes scan over the contents of the paper, “What the fuck, Y/N.”

“Surprise! We’re going to Hawaii.”

“You’re crazy.” Mack kisses your mouth and pulls away with a smile.

“Maybe, but we’ll be there for a week just the two of us. It’s obviously after Wimbledon ends, so you’ll be okay to take a week away from the rink, right?”

“If they have a gym, then yes.”

“Is that even a question?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m kidding, yeah, I’ll gladly take a week away with you. Thank you, Y/N, this is an amazing gift.” He pulls you into his side.

“You’re welcome, Mack.” You grin. “So how would you rate this birthday?”

“10/10, best birthday ever.” He answers.

“Such high praise.”

“What can I say, my girlfriend surprises me by flying here before Wimbledon after not seeing each other for two months, then we have mind-blowing sex.” You shove his shoulder lightly, “Then she gets me a trip to Hawaii, a week for just the two of us. Overall, a really great day.”

“I guess you could say that.” You get under the covers of the bed as Mack sets his gift on the nightstand.

“Yeah, it’s been a good day.” Mack kisses your hairline as he crawls under the sheets with you.

“I’m glad,” You mutter, eyes starting to droop with sleep, “Happy Birthday, Mack, I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you for a good day.” He wraps his arms around you, head resting on your chest, and you throw a leg over his hip.

“No problem.” You smile sleepily, the warmth of being tangled in his embrace lulling you to sleep. “Goodnight, birthday boy.”

“Goodnight, baby.” You reach over to the side table and turn off the lamp, enveloping you both in the darkness of the night.

It was friday afternoon, just after 6pm, and San Jose traffic was living up to its reputation. Macklin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his newly insured car.

He’d only had his license for a few weeks, and he was still getting used to the way other cars moved around him.

You sat ahead of him, tapping your nails against the wheel. The line of vehicles in front had finally started creeping forward again, so you eased off the brake and rolled slowly.

Just as your car started rolling, the car ahead of you slammed on their brakes without a warning. At the sudden stop, you were about to reach for your hazard light button, ready to warn whoever was behind you that everything was stopping again.

Instead, you were met with a jolt that came hard from behind, snapping your head forward. Your heart shot into your throat as your car lurched a second time, shoved forward another few feet.

“Shit, shit, shit-” you whispered, hands shaking as you put the car in park.

Macklin’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t even had time to hit the brakes properly. One second the car in front of him was moving, the next it wasn’t, and now his hood was kissing the bumper of a silver sedan that definitely hadn’t been that close a moment ago.

His brand new license felt like it was burning a hole in his wallet. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

Macklin let out another deep sigh. The traffic around you was already honking and creeping forward again. He finally lifted his head and saw the car emergency lights flashing steadily. At least the driver wasn’t speeding off.

Macklin unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out into the cool evening air. Please don’t be some angry Karen who’s gonna call the cops and make this a whole thing, he prayed silently, looking every bit the nervous he felt like.

You pushed open your door at the same time. A wave of relief hit you when you saw him with wide, apologetic eyes instead of a furious middle aged driver. Thank God.

“I’m so sorry,” Macklin said immediately, voice earnest as he walked toward you. “Are you okay? I didn’t even have time to-”

“No, no, it’s honestly my fault,” you cut in quickly, cheeks already burning. “I should’ve turned my hazards on faster. The cars in front just stopped out of nowhere and I-”

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “Let’s just check the damage?”

You both moved to the space between your vehicles. The back of your car had a noticeable dent and a cracked taillight, while his front bumper had only a scuff and a small buckle. It looked worse on your end.

“Shit,” Macklin muttered. “I’m really sorry. I just got my license like.. a month ago? Maybe a little more. I’m still figuring this whole driving thing out and I swear I was paying attention but then everything just stopped and-” He was rambling now, a light stutter slipping in as nerves took over. “I didn’t mean to- God, this is bad.”

You let out a nervous laugh, crossing your arms. Your pulse was still racing, but something about his genuine panic made you feel less alone in the mess. “It’s okay, seriously. I’m fine. No one’s hurt, that’s what matters. Maybe we can handle this without calling the police? The traffic’s already a nightmare, and if we’re both okay..”

Macklin straightened up fast, relief flooding his expression. “Yeah. Yeah, that works for me. I don’t want to make this any bigger than it has to be.” He pulled out his phone, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m Macklin, by the way. We should probably exchange numbers for insurance and.. everything.”

You smiled despite everything, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nice to meet you, Macklin. Even under these circumstances. I’m Y/n.” You recited your number as he typed it in, watching his fingers fumble a little on the screen. He sent you a quick text so you’d have his too.

On that same day, Macklin made sure to text you.

Macklin Hey 10:06pm

Macklin It’s Macklin from the crash earlier 10:06pm

Macklin Just wanted to check if you’re really okay? 10:07pm

You were sprawled on your couch when your phone buzzed. A small smile tugged at your lips as you read it.

You I’m fine, thanks 10:08pm

You How about you? 10:08pm

Macklin I’m good 10:08pm

Macklin Listen, I feel bad about your car.. let me pay for the repairs or take it to a shop 10:09pm

Macklin I know a guy who does good work and just want to make it right 10:09pm

To his word, Macklin took your car to get it repaired the following week. He insisted on handling everything as in he wanted to pay for all of it, refusing to let you pull out your wallet.

“Macklin, no,” you said standing in the parking lot, arms crossed. “It wasn’t just your fault.”

“But I hit you, technically. Let me just-”

After some back and forth, he finally talked you into letting him cover half. You agreed, mostly because his earnest puppy dog eyes made it impossible to keep arguing. The shop fixed everything in a couple of days, and when you picked up your car, it looked better than before the accident.

After that day, neither of you reached out again.

Sometimes you found yourself staring at his contact. He’d been so sweet about the whole thing and undeniably handsome with those bright eyes.

Part of you wondered if the universe had literally pushed you two together. Maybe it was meant to happen?

But then reality came crashing back in. It was a busy friday evening in San Jose. Accidents happen every day, and a cute guy being nice after rear ending you didn’t mean destiny.

A few days later, Macklin was sprawled on the couch in his and Will’s apartment, controller in hand.

“Dude,” Macklin started, pausing the game. “Be honest. Do you think it could mean something that we got into a car crash? Like.. fate or whatever?”

Will let out a loud groan, tossing his head back. “Here you go talking about her again. Bro, you’ve brought her up like five times this week.”

Macklin flushed. “I know, I know. It’s just that she seemed really cool and pretty. And the way we met was kinda wild.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t text her, man. If you really think it was more than just a car crash, shoot your shot.”

Macklin sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I don’t want to seem like a stalker or whatever. I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend. What if she thinks I’m weird for reaching out again?”

“Then you’re never gonna find out if she’s single,” Will said, shaking his head with a laugh. “Besides, women don’t like to chase guys. You hit her car, not the other way around. The ball’s in your court, text her or stop whining about it.”

The next friday, you and a few of your friends decided to go out to a club. Your best friend had just gone through a breakup and begged for a night to forget everything, even if it meant getting absolutely wasted.

You were already a few drinks deep when your friends disappeared toward the bar, promising to be back in two minutes. Left alone at the high top table, you let your gaze drift lazily across the room.

Across the sea of bodies, your eyes locked onto him. He was standing with a group of guys, looking unfairly good in a simple white shirt. For a split second, the loud music faded and it felt like only the two of you existed in the entire club. His eyes widened slightly in recognition.

Shit.

You were tipsy, flushed, and definitely not in the right headspace for this. Panic surged through you, you quickly spun your chair around, turning your back to him, cheeks burning hotter than the alcohol could explain.

A few seconds later, your friends slid back into the seat beside you, oblivious. “We’re back!”

Later that night, your head was spinning. The alcohol buzzed heavily through your veins, and the pulsing lights made everything feel blurry. You pushed through the dense crowd, muttering “excuse me” as you tried to find the bathroom.

Suddenly, you collided straight into a stronger body. Strong hands immediately caught your shoulders to steady you before you could stumble backward.

“Oh.. it’s you,” you said as you looked up, the words slipping out with a hint of disappointment in your tone. Though out of all the people in this crowded club, you were glad it was him.

Macklin’s eyes widened. “It’s me,” he replied. He paused, as his gaze drifted over your face and outfit. “You look.. very pretty.”

The compliment landed softly between you. For a second, you almost smiled. But then the bad feeling came over you again, and remembered that you were trying to find the bathroom.

“Do I?” you mumbled, heart racing too fast. The room felt even warmer now. “I gotta go.”

You slipped out of his hold quickly, brushing past him before he could say anything else. Your legs carried you toward the bathroom line, disappearing into the sea of bodies.

Macklin stood there, staring after you until the crowd swallowed you whole. Did I do something wrong? He replayed the short interaction in his head. Maybe Will was wrong. Maybe you really did think he was some weirdo for even looking at you twice.

You hadn’t seemed interested at all.

After that night out, Macklin convinced himself he had enough. If you weren’t interested, he wasn’t going to keep chasing someone who clearly saw him as nothing more than the guy who rear ended her car. He deleted the unsent message drafts he’d written over the past weeks and tried to push the whole thing out of his head. You were just a cute girl from a weird coincidence and that was it.

A few weeks later, he was at a public gym near his apartment, earbuds in, finishing up a shoulder session when he spotted you.

You were clearly in the middle of leg day. Sweat slicked your skin, and your hair was pulled up messily. You felt sticky, gross, and completely unsexy. The last thing you expected was to run into anyone you knew, let alone him.

As you walked over to refill your water bottle, your eyes landed on Macklin standing a few feet away. He looked ridiculously good in a compression shirt and shorts, even in the middle of a workout. Before you could overthink it, you smiled.

“Hey,” you said, a little breathless but genuine.

Macklin’s heart jumped straight into his throat. Seeing your smile hit him harder than he expected, it was like seeing you for the first time all over again. That spark of hope he thought he’d buried came rushing back instantly.

“Hey,” he replied, pulling one earbud out and matching your smile. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” you answered sweetly, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “Busy with school and this.” You gestured awkwardly to the gym around you. “How about you? Still getting used to the traffic, I hope?”

Macklin chuckled. “Yeah, no more accidents yet. Knock on wood. You look like you’re killing leg day.”

You let out a small laugh, suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty and flushed you were. “Yeah.. I should probably get back to it before I cool down too much. It was nice seeing you though.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, eyes soft. You gave him one last quick smile before heading back toward the squat rack.

When Macklin came home that night, he barely kicked off his sneakers before calling out, “Will! You home?”

“Yeah, kitchen!” Will shouted back.

Macklin walked in with a massive grin plastered across his face. “Guess who I saw at the gym today?” Macklin said, unable to contain his smile.

Will paused, then let out a knowing sigh. “Let me guess.. Y/n?”

“Yes!” Macklin laughed, leaning against the counter. “Bro, she smiled at me first and everything. We actually talked.”

Will turned around slowly, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Wait, hold up. Didn’t you say that you were done with her? That you were deleting her number and moving on?”

“Yeah, I did,” Macklin admitted. “But this time it’s different. She talked to me first and she seemed happy to see me, not like at the club where she basically ran away.”

Will gave him a deadpan look. “I know exactly how this goes, man.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Nope,” Will cut him off. “I don’t wanna hear Y/n this and Y/n that for the next three hours. I’ve listened to it enough.”

Macklin opened his mouth but Will kept going.

“Look, dude. Either text her and actually ask her out, or stop talking about her. I’m sick of the back and forth. You clearly still like her so do something about it or shut up about it. Those are your only two options.”

It was a lazy saturday night. You had dedicated the entire day to yourself, just pure bed rotting. You stayed under the blankets watching shows, scrolling, and snacking on whatever was within reach.

Before you knew it, the sun had set and it was already pushing 9pm.

Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t had a proper meal all day. With a tired sigh, you rolled out of bed and slipped slipped on your shoes. It was late so who was going to see you at this hour anyway?

As you pushed the cart down the aisle, you were seriously regretting not just ordering delivery. You stopped in the fruit section, when you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n?”

You shut your eyes for a second, pushing back mild annoyance at being seen like this, before plastering on a polite smile and turning around. The annoyance instantly melted the second you saw him.

Macklin stood there in a hoodie and sweats, holding a small basket, looking just as surprised as you. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m just doing some late night shopping. Figured I need some dinner,” you answered with a small laugh. “What about you?”

“Oh, my friend asked me to grab a few things he forgot. I was already up so here I am.” He shrugged, eyes scanning your face. “You look cozy.”

You glanced down at your pajama, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Sorry for the way I look. I really wasn’t planning on running into anyone at this hour.”

Macklin smiled. “That’s totally fine. I think you still look very beautiful.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and felt yourself blush harder. “Thank you.. that’s sweet.”

He shifted his weight, glancing at your cart before meeting your eyes again. “It’s crazy how we keep running into each other, isn’t it?”

You let out a light laugh. “Yeah, the universe is really committed to this bit.”

Macklin chuckled, then grew a little more serious. “Uhm.. can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you- have a boyfriend? Or no?” The words came out with a noticeable stutter, and it was adorable.

“No,” you replied, smiling. “Why?”

“Oh, good. Good.” He exhaled, visibly relieved. “I was thinking.. maybe we could go on a date sometime? I know a great steak place nearby. I just- I think it’s crazy how we met and keep bumping into each other.”

He kept talking, nerves making him ramble, until he finally caught himself and shut up, cheeks pink.

You leaned against your cart, grinning. “That’d be nice. I’d love to. But I kind of wish you would’ve texted me earlier.”

Macklin lit up. “Really? I thought you’d think I was a weirdo for reaching out again after the crash and everything.”

You laughed softly. “Okay, ‘weirdo’ is a strong word.. but no. I would’ve been happy if you did.”

The two of you started walking together toward the registers, talking easily about everything and nothing. When you finally reached your car, Macklin helped load your bags into the car. “So.. I’ll text you?” he asked, hopeful.

You smiled up at him. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

As you drove away, you couldn’t stop smiling. For someone who hoped you wouldn’t see anyone at this hour, you thanked the Lord for having other plans.

TAGLIST: @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @wherethezoes-at @macka @carlottawllms @Blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09 @goaldengay @umm-ok-fine @idkwhatthisis2009 @luckylzclerc @miyasfatass @0717luv @downtownjulie @feellikeimphoebe @lilfreakjez @astrolatrism @asteria33 @cccassiopeia @mrsbedard @Ponyboygirl1234 @vivireichs @itzlexa @hyunjinvoid

Macklin’s back was pressed against the headboard, shirtless, sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips. His cheeks were already flushed pink, chest rising and falling a little too fast. You straddled his lap in nothing but a thin tank top and panties, slowly guiding his right hand between your thighs.

“You’ve really never made a girl cum with just your fingers?” you asked, teasing, lips brushing his ear.

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip. “I’ve tried… a few times. They always said it felt good but… never actually got there, y’know?” His voice was already breathy, embarrassed. “I want to so bad. Fuck, I really want to make you cum like this.”

He was clearly excited, but the second his fingers slipped into your panties, it became obvious he needed Guidance.

He rubbed around messily, his fingertips sliding over your folds but completely missing your clit. He tried pushing a finger inside but at the wrong angle, too shallow, and you could tell he was getting frustrated.

“Fuck… am I close?” he muttered, voice already breathy. He circled again, nowhere near where you needed him, his touch eager but uncoordinated. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong. You’re so wet but I can’t— I can’t find the spot.”

You bit your lip to hide a smile as he kept trying, rubbing too high and too fast, then dipping back down and missing again. His brows were furrowed in concentration, cheeks burning redder by the second.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he whined softly, sounding genuinely embarrassed. “I swear I’ve done this before but… it’s not working. I want to make you feel good so bad.”

You watched him for another moment — his desperate little movements, the way his cock was straining hard against his sweatpants, the pure want in his eyes — before you finally took pity on him.

You smiled softly, taking his wrist. “Want me to teach you?”

“Please,” he breathed out instantly, almost whimpering. “Please show me.”

You slid his hand into your panties, letting his long, warm fingers glide over your soaked folds. The second he felt how wet you were, he let out a shaky, desperate exhale.

“Start slow,” you whispered, pressing his middle finger against your entrance. “Ease it in… just like that.”

He pushed in carefully, and his eyes fluttered shut. “Shit… you’re so fucking tight,” he mumbled, voice cracking. His free hand gripped your hip like he needed something to hold onto.

You rocked gently against his hand, setting the pace and showing him the motion. “Now curl your fingers up… yeah, righ— hnngh, right there. Feel that spot?”

Macklin nodded quickly, brows furrowed in deep concentration. He curled again and you moaned louder. The sound made his cock jump hard in his sweatpants.

“Fuck— do that again,” you told him, gripping his wrist. “A little faster.”

He obeyed immediately, pumping his finger in and out while curling it just how you showed him. His breathing was ragged, lips parted.

“Like this? Am I— am I doing it right?” he asked, voice already whiny. “You’re dripping all over my hand… I can hear it. God, that’s so hot.”

“You’re doing so good, Mack,” you praised, grinding down harder. “Add a second finger.”

He slid his ring finger in beside the first with a broken little whimper. “Oh my god… you’re, like, sucking them in. I can feel you clenching.” His cheeks were burning red now. “Please tell me if I’m fucking this up. I don’t wanna stop, I need to make you cum.”

You leaned in and kissed him deep, messy, tongues sliding together while his fingers worked faster. Every time you moaned into his mouth he made the neediest noises, hips bucking up uselessly like he was dying to be inside you.

“Thumb on my clit,” you gasped against his lips. “Small, tight circles. Don’t stop, okay?”

Macklin’s thumb found your swollen clit instantly. At first his movements were a little clumsy, but he quickly adjusted when you cried out and clenched hard around his fingers.

“Oh fuck— you just got so much wetter,” he whined, forehead pressed to yours, eyes glassy. “Is that good? Am I doing it right? Please keep making those sounds, I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

“You’re perfect, baby. Keep going— faster on my clit. Please."

He was panting now, completely lost in it. The usually calm, collected Macklin Celebrini was falling apart underneath you, fingers pumping desperately, thumb rubbing frantic circles while he whimpered and begged.

“I can feel you squeezing me so tight… you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” His voice cracked. “Please cum on my fingers. I need to feel you falling apart because of me. Please—”

“Mack— Fuck! Right there, right there, don’t stop—”

Your orgasm hit you hard. Thighs shaking, back arching, you cried out as intense waves rolled through you. Your walls pulsed and fluttered around his fingers, soaking his hand even more. Macklin’s eyes went wide, a wrecked moan tearing from his throat like he was the one cumming.

“Oh my god… I can feel it. Holy shit, I can feel you cumming—” His voice broke into a desperate whimper as he kept stroking you through every aftershock, drawing it out until you were trembling and oversensitive.

When you finally collapsed against his chest, breathing hard, he slowly pulled his glistening fingers out. He stared at them for a second in pure awe, then looked up at you with blown pupils and parted lips.

“I… I actually did it?” he asked, voice hoarse and adorably awed. “You really came just from my fingers?”

You smiled, still catching your breath, and kissed him softly. “You did so fucking good, Mack. Such a quick learner.”

He let out a broken, shy laugh and buried his flushed face in your neck, but his hips were already grinding his painfully hard cock against your thigh, slow and needy.

“…Can we do that again?” he mumbled into your skin, voice still whiny and desperate. “I think I’m addicted now. I wanna feel you cum on my fingers again… and maybe on my tongue? Or my cock? I don’t care. I just need more.”

He kissed your neck, then looked up at you with those pretty eyes, biting his lip.

Sidney walks like he always does, calm, focused, like none of this is new. The cameras, the staff, the way people subtly shift when he passes, it’s all just background noise.

“Stay close,” he throws over his shoulder, barely looking.

You almost smile because some things never change.

“I’m here,” you reply, a little quieter than you mean to.

You’ve done this before, walked the hallways next to him but not really with him, watched him become someone else the second he steps toward the ice or toward a teammate.

He doesn’t hover around you as much as he used to either. But there’s still something in the way he gives you one last look before he turns away, like a final check, like he’s making sure you’re good before he lets himself put on his Captain persona.

Down the hallway everything is moving fast. There’s players, staff, equipment, guys hauling bags that look heavier than they should be. Voices overlapping in different accents and languages, all carrying the same edge of competition.

You try not to stare, try not to feel like you don’t quite belong here, even though you technically do. You’ve always belonged to his world. You’ve been by his side for everything.

“Locker room’s this way,” he says, gesturing for you to follow. “You can hang back if you want. It’ll be busy.”

“I’ll stay out of the way,” you say.

“Stay where you’re comfortable.” He corrects. “You know the setup.” Then he disappears into the chaos, leaving you standing by yourself.

You decide to take a little walk, not straying too far, but just wanting to get the lay of things. As you turn a corner, adjusting the strap of your purse and not really paying attention, someone runs straight into you, hard enough to knock you back a step.

“Shit—sorry—”

A hockey bag swings slightly between you and the guy who just walked into you, the bag strap still slung over his shoulder. You steady yourself, looking up, and immediately recognize him.

He’s Macklin Celebrini, and he looks just as surprised. Like he expected to run into a wall or something, not you.

“Sorry,” he repeats, shifting the weight of the bag off his shoulder a bit. “I didn’t see you.”

“You’re good,” you say, brushing it off, though your heart’s beating a little faster now.

He nods quickly, but he doesn’t leave. There’s this half-second where he actually looks at you and something in his expression changes. Recognition, maybe, or confusion.

“You’re—” he starts, then stops himself, like he’s not sure if he should say it.

You don’t help him, just raise one eyebrow slightly.

He lets out a small breath, almost laughing at himself. “Sorry. I just—” His grip tightens a little on the strap of his bag. Then, more carefully, “You’re with… him, Crosby, right?”

It’s subtle. The way he carefully says your dad’s name, like it carries weight.

You glance past him for a second, your dad’s reemerged from the locker room and is now a few steps ahead, talking to someone, not paying attention to you. You look back at Macklin.

“Yeah,” you say simply. That’s all you give him.

But he still nods, like that confirms everything he needed to know.

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

He shifts his weight, like he should keep moving, like he knows he should. But he doesn’t, he lingers just for a second longer.

“Sorry again,” he says, softer this time.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

And it is, but something about the moment sticks anyway. The way he looked at you, it wasn’t the way everyone else does when they realize who you are. Not impressed. Not awkward. He was curious. Like you don’t match whatever he expected. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Everything okay?”

Your dad’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You turn, catching up to him in a couple quick steps. “Yeah. Just ran into someone.”

He glances back briefly, instinct more than anything. Macklin is already gone, just another player disappearing down the hallway.

“Alright,” your dad says, easy. “Stay with me.”

You nod. And that’s all he says, he doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t notice anything. And he definitely doesn’t see the way you glance back once more before turning the corner.

Or the way, somewhere down the hallway, Macklin does the exact same thing.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

The restaurant is packed full of the entire Team Canada hockey team, coaches, staff. Everyone is laughing and talking over each other. The smell of garlic bread and fresh pasta, the soft candlelight reflecting off polished tables, the clinking of glasses…it’s all a little too much. Too loud.

You take a deep breath and shift in your chair. “Excuse me,” you say to your dad, setting your silverware down. “I think I’m gonna run to the bathroom quick.”

He glances at you and nods. “Alright, don’t be long.”

You give him a small practiced smile and slip out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits your face as soon as you step outside, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t head toward the bathroom at all, you just need a minute, a quiet spot to breathe.

The balcony you step out onto is empty, the city lights stretched out below looking like a bunch of tiny stars. You lean against the railing, letting the soft night air chase away the tightness in your chest.

And then the door opens behind you.

“Oh. Hey.”

You turn to see Macklin leaning against the doorway a few feet away, team Canada gear still on.

“Well, this doesn’t look like the bathroom,” he says, a small grin tugging at his lips.

You raise an eyebrow. “Were you following me?” you ask, joking, though your voice carries traces of mock accusation.

“No!” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I just… saw you leave. Well, I was worried, I guess. You looked…uh, I don’t know, like you needed a minute.”

You study him for a second, and a quiet laugh escapes you. “Huh. Concerned hockey player, isn’t that a little out of the norm?”

He chuckles, shrugging like he’s embarrassed and confident at the same time. “Maybe. You just looked like you might vanish into the night.”

You roll your eyes, smiling, then glance back at the city, trying to focus on the lights instead of the way Macklin’s presence somehow is making the night feel warmer.

He's walks closer, leaning against the railing too now, and then he adds after a pause, “I mean…I get it, honestly. I thought I could handle it, but, holy shit. That table was loud.”

“Understatement of the year,” you mutter, letting your shoulders relax a little more.

He glances at you, like he wants to say something more, then shakes his head. “So… how do you do it? All these years, Olympics after Olympics, big dinners, all eyes on your dad…” He gestures vaguely back toward the restaurant. “You just…survive?”

You tilt your head, considering. “I don’t know. You kind of just… learn to blend in. Pick a spot, look like you belong even when you don’t feel like it.”

He nods slowly. “Sounds like a skill.”

“It’s a survival skill, I had lots of practice,” you say with a half-smile.

There’s a pause, and then he smirks, glancing down at the railing between you. “Well…you make it look easy.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. “Is that a compliment or a warning?” you ask, teasing lightly.

“Depends,” he says, shrugging. “Do you take compliments?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Sometimes.”

He grins, and for a second, it’s just the two of you. No team, no cameras, no legacy looming over either of you. Just Mack, leaning against the railing, and you, right next to him, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of a chaotic night. And for some reason, the culmination of all of it makes you decide to open up.

“You know, people see my last name and think they know me. But no one really does. This,” you gesture vaguely to the balcony and the night beyond it, “this is the only part that feels like it’s mine. It’s peaceful.”

He nods, understanding without needing more explanation. “Yeah… I totally get that. People expect so much from you out there. On the ice, or in the spotlight reflecting off your dad, and sometimes you just want a break. Somewhere you don’t have to be anyone’s version of you besides your own.”

You glance at him, caught off guard at how thoughtful he sounds. “You make it sound easy to take a break,” you say lightly, though you know it isn’t.

He shrugs, grin playful but eyes serious. “Easy? No. But…easier when you find someone who doesn’t expect all of that from you. And apparently,” he glances at you, “you’re good at being… just you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, you’re stacking compliments tonight.”

“Maybe I am,” he says quietly, “but it’s true and you know it.”

The quiet hum of the city lingers around you both, a comfortable pause stretching just long enough that you almost forget the chaos waiting inside. You start shifting on your feet slightly, the cool breeze finally getting to you.

“I should probably head back inside,” you say lightly, tucking a piece of hair from your face back behind your ear. “But…I think maybe I’ll run to the bathroom first. That way you can go back in ahead of me. Don’t want my dad thinking we’re sneaking out together or anything.”

He smirks knowingly. “Ah… strategic. I get it.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a teasing grin. “You understand without me having to spell it out.”

He laughs softly. “Yeah… don’t worry. I won’t blow your cover. Don’t fall in.”

“I’ll try not to,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully, though the smile on your face betrays how good it feels to have him understand without needing a full explanation.

He gives a short nod, leaning back against the railing. “Go for it. I’ll head in first. Don’t take too long, I like your company.”

You grin, giving him a little wave before slipping back toward the restaurant entrance. He smirks, eyes following you for a brief second before he turns and heads back inside, leaving you a few steps behind. You duck into the bathroom quickly, taking a deep breath.

When you slip back inside the restaurant, the warm air pleasantly hits you again. Laughter and conversation swirl around you, and for a moment, it feels like you’re rejoining a completely separate world. Your dad is still talking to one of the coaches, completely caught up in conversation, so you slide back into your seat at the end of the table. You tuck your hands in your lap, fidgeting lightly, trying to fade into the background, just another body among the team.

And then you see him. Macklin. Across the table again, in his seat. He catches your gaze and gives you a small nod, the tiniest acknowledgment of the conversation the two of you just had. For a moment, just long enough for the world to blur a little, it’s just the two of you. A quiet, private moment, even in a crowded room.

He looks away quickly, back to the conversation with the guy next to him, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in that same easy, teasing way he does. No one else notices.

Dinner finally winds down and plates are cleared, glasses clinking one last time, and the room slowly shifts from loud and chaotic to the exhausted, post-meal high of a team who’s ready to call it a night.

Your dad stands, clapping a hand lightly on the back of one of the coaches next to him. “Alright, everyone. Big day tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.”

You follow the motion toward the exit, your dad telling you something about having a conversation with a coach, so you hang back, letting the crowd thin. Your stomach is still fluttering from the food, the noise, and the tiny stolen moments with Macklin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mack lingering near the doorway, he catches your gaze, a small grin spreading onto his face.

“Heading out?” he asks quietly as you fall into step beside him.

You shrug, glancing down at your shoes. “Yeah…trying not to get swallowed by the crowd.”

He smiles. “Fair enough. I’ll make sure you survive the hallway stampede.”

There’s a pause as the two of you walk in the quieter part of the corridor, shoulders almost brushing but not quite. It’s subtle, just enough to feel like a shared secret.

“Hey,” you say, a little quieter than you mean for it to come out, “thanks for… you know… stepping out with me earlier. The balcony.”

Mack laughs quietly, shaking his head. “No problem. Good to have a little calm before the storm.”

“Yeah. I liked it.”

He smiles softly, the electricity from earlier still humming. “Me too.”

Your dad and the team are already a few steps ahead again, talking and laughing, oblivious. You let Macklin step into the elevator, waiting for your dad.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks quietly, leaning against the elevator wall.

You grin. “Yeah… see you tomorrow.”

And with that, the doors close, leaving you alone for a moment, just long enough to think that maybe, for the first time, you’re not just Crosby’s kid. You’re yourself. And Macklin sees that.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

3:43pm. Milano Santagiulia Ice Hockey Arena. Canada vs Czechia.

The puck drops and the arena comes alive. You’re seated with your dad’s family, close enough to see everything clearly, far enough that cameras don’t linger on you for too long. You’ve done this before. You know where to look, how to sit, how to react without drawing too much attention. You’ve been to major games with your dad before. You know the rhythm of it.

But this feels different. Because this time it’s not just your dad out on the ice. Macklin is out there too. And he’s on the first line. With Connor McDavid and Tom Wilson. And he’s the youngest player on Team Canada. You feel the butterflies in your stomach before the puck even hits the ice.

A few minutes in there’s a penalty on Czechia. Power play, but nothing comes from it. Your dad wins a battle along the boards mid-period and sends a quick pass into transition. You clap instinctively. That kind of play doesn’t show up on highlight reels, but you know how much it matters. You’ve always known. Canada keeps playing, the clock ticking down, and you’re growing increasingly restless. The period is almost over when Connor gets an assist to Mack.

You don’t even process it at first. Then you see him, Macklin, turning away from the net. His hands are up. Connor McDavid is skating toward him, yelling something. Your chest actually tightens and you feel like you’ve stopped breathing.

He tipped it. His first Olympic goal. He is the youngest player on Team Canada and he just scored their first goal at the fucking Olympics. And he did it with five seconds left in the period.

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Screaming, loud, and you don’t even care. Your hands are in the air, heart racing, face lit up completely unfiltered.

And Mack sees it. Not your section, not just the crowd. You. In the middle of all the chaos, his eyes find yours. It’s quick, just a split second, but it’s undeniable. His grin shifts, just slightly wider. Just slightly softer.

Like he knows exactly who that reaction was for. Everyone else might think it was for the team, for Canada, but he knows.

Canada leads 1–0 going into intermission.

In the second period your dad picks up a secondary assist. Quick puck movement but Sidney reads it perfectly and threads it through the traffic. You stand again, proud this time in a different way. Applauding him with a steady, familiar pride that’s lived in your chest your entire life.

He doesn’t look up at the stands, you know he knows you’re there. He knows you’re cheering.

The game continues in Canada’s favor, 5–0. The win is sealed. The crowd starts to rise before the clock even runs out. And when the final horn sounds, you’re on your feet again.

And this time you don’t hold back. You clap hard, cheering for Team Canada, for your dad, for the shutout, and for Macklin.

As he passes by your section with the team he looks up again. This time you don’t even pretend to tone it down. You’re smiling, clapping, eyes bright, proud. Proud of your country and your dad…and him.

His gaze catches and lingers a fraction longer than it should. Then he taps his stick once on the ice before turning back toward center. No one around you notices. Your dad is shaking hands on the ice. The team is celebrating.

The announcement echoes through the cavernous terminal, each word dousing your hopes in icy reality: "Due to severe weather conditions, all flights have been cancelled until further notice. We apologize for the inconvenience."

You join the herd of stranded travelers making their way to the information desk, where a harried employee is doing her best to manage the chaos. You're not the only one with this idea, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with brown hair arrives at the same time and you both end up at the counter simultaneously.

"Excuse me," you both say at once, then share an awkward laugh.

"Sorry, you first," he says, gesturing for you to go ahead.

"I was just wondering if there are any hotel accommodations available? Or what we're supposed to do now?"

The employee sighs, rubbing her temples. "The airport has arranged for shuttle buses to take passengers to nearby hotels, but I have to be honest, most places are already booked solid due to the storm. We're doing our best to find rooms for everyone, but you might need to share."

The guy beside you clears his throat. "I'll take whatever's available. I'm not picky."

"Me neither," you add quickly.

The employee types rapidly on her keyboard, her expression growing more frustrated by the second. "Well, this is unexpected. There's exactly one room left at the Marriott down the street. One king bed. That's it."

You exchange a look with the stranger beside you. He's handsome, with kind eyes and a hesitant smile that somehow puts you at ease despite the circumstances.

"We'll take it," you both say simultaneously again, then laugh.

"Great," the employee says, clearly relieved. "Here are your vouchers. The shuttle is waiting outside door 7."

As you walk toward the designated door, the man extends his hand. "I'm Macklin, by the way. And I promise I don't snore. Much."

You laugh, shaking his hand. "I'm not worried about snoring. I'm worried about you trying to murder me in my sleep."

"Fair enough," he says with a grin. "I'll try to control myself."

The shuttle ride is silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts about this bizarre turn of events. At the hotel, the check-in process is mercifully quick and soon you're standing in a perfectly nice room with one very large bed dominating the space.

"You take the bed," Macklin says immediately, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. "I'll sleep on the couch."

You glance at the small armchair in the corner. "That's not a couch, that's a decorative piece of furniture that would break if you looked at it wrong. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Absolutely not," he insists, already grabbing pillows from the closet. "You're taking the bed. End of discussion."

"But..."

"No buts," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "I insist."

You sigh, knowing you won't win this argument. "Fine. But at least let me help you make a proper bed on the floor."

Together, you arrange the extra pillows and blankets into a makeshift bed next to the actual bed. The domesticity of it all feels strangely intimate, like you've done this a hundred times before.

After getting ready for bed in the bathroom you settle in for the night. The storm outside rages, wind howling against the windows, rattling the panes with increasing intensity. You try to ignore it, pulling the covers up to your chin, but your heart races with each gust of wind.

"You okay?" Macklin's voice cuts through the darkness.

"Just the storm," you admit quietly. "I'm a bit scared of storms."

He's silent for a moment. "Do you want to talk about something else? To take your mind off it?"

"Please," you whisper.

"What brings you to San Jose?" he asks, his voice calm and steady.

You tell him about your reason for traveling and as you speak, you find yourself relaxing, the sound of his voice a soothing counterpoint to the storm outside.

"That sounds… intense," he says when you finish. "I'm impressed."

"What about you? Why are you headed to San Jose?"

He hesitates. "I have a game tomorrow."

"A game? What kind of game?"

"Hockey," he admits reluctantly. "I play for the Sharks."

You sit up, turning to look at him in the dim light filtering through the window. "You're a hockey player? And you gave me the bed when you have a game tomorrow? No way. You need proper rest. Get in this bed right now."

He laughs, but it's clear he's uncomfortable. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be right."

"I won't take no for an answer," you insist, patting the empty space beside you. "We can build a pillow wall. A fortress of solitude. You'll never even know I'm here."

He considers this for a moment. "Only if you're sure you're comfortable with that."

"I'm sure," you say, already grabbing pillows to create a barrier between you.

He reluctantly gets into bed, maintaining a respectful distance despite your reassurances. The pillow wall rises between you like a miniature mountain range.

"So," you say, settling back against your pillows. "Hockey player for the Sharks. That must be… a lot."

"It is," he admits. "The pressure, the expectations… sometimes it feels like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders."

"What kind of pressure?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He's quiet for a moment, as if considering how much to share. "Everyone expects me to be the savior. The franchise player who's going to turn everything around. But I'm just a kid trying to do my best. I just wanna play hockey, you know? Some days I feel like I'm failing before I even step on the ice."

You're struck by his vulnerability, by the weight he's carrying at such a young age. "That sounds incredibly lonely."

"It is," he agrees. "Most people don't ask about that part. They just want to know about the goals, the wins, the stats."

"What do you wish they would ask?" you probe gently.

He turns onto his side to face you, the pillow wall between you suddenly feeling ridiculous. "They could ask if I'm happy. If I miss home. If I ever regret choosing this life. They could ask about the person behind the jersey."

You reach across the pillow barrier, your hand finding his in the darkness. "Are you happy?"

He laces his fingers through yours. "Some days. Other days, I miss being a normal kid. But tonight… tonight I'm pretty happy."

You talk for hours, about dreams, fears, families and futures. The storm outside gradually subsides, but neither of you notices, lost in conversation. At some point, you both drift off to sleep, your hands still joined across the now-crumpled pillow wall.

You wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and the surprising weight of a leg draped over yours. Your eyes flutter open to find Macklin still asleep, his face peaceful, his body having migrated across the pillow barrier during the night. Your legs are tangled together, your arms still loosely joined.

Instead of embarrassment, you feel a strange sense of rightness, as if this is exactly where you're supposed to be. Macklin's eyes open slowly, a sleepy smile spreading across his face when he realizes your position.

"Morning," he murmurs, not moving to untangle himself.

"Morning," you reply, smiling back. "I guess the pillow wall wasn't very effective."

"Guess not," he agrees, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "I'm not complaining."

You lie in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before reality intrudes. "We should probably get ready. The airport…"

"Right," he says, though he makes no move to get up. "The airport."

Eventually, you both untangle yourselves and prepare for departure. At the airport, you check in separately, but when you reach security, Macklin stops you.

"Come with me," he says, taking your hand and leading you to a different counter. "I need to to something."

Before you can protest, he's speaking with the agent, handing over your boarding pass. When he returns, he's holding a new one.

"Macklin, no," you say immediately. "Why would you do that? I can't repay you."

"You don't have to," he says, handing you the new pass. "I just… I wasn't ready to stop talking to you. This way, you're sitting next to me."

You look at the boarding pass, business class, seat 4A, right next to his 4B. "You're impossible," you say, but you're smiling.

The flight passes in a comfortable blur of continued conversation, laughter and the occasional brush of hands. By the time you land in San Jose, you feel like you've known Macklin for years rather than hours.

As you gather your things at baggage claim, he turns to you, suddenly looking nervous. "So… I know this is forward, and you probably have plans, but I'd love nothing more than if you'd text me. And if you're free tonight… I'd be the happiest man if you'd come to my game."

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I don't know… I've heard that there is this Sharks player that is a bit of a blanket hog," you tease, a playful glint in your eyes. "I'm not sure I can handle another night of that."

Macklin's face breaks into a relieved grin. "I promise to keep to my side of the pillow wall. Scout's honor."

"Alright," you concede, pretending to be put out. "I'll come. But only because I want to see if you're as good on the ice as you were at building that pillow fortress."

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "Deal." He pulls out his phone, and you exchange numbers, your fingers brushing in a way that sends a small jolt through you.

With your bags claimed, you stand awkwardly for a moment, neither of you wanting this strange, perfect interlude to end.

"Well," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I guess this is it for now."

"I guess so," you agree, suddenly feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of parting.

To your surprise, he opens his arms. "Can I?"

You nod, stepping into his embrace. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close. The hug is warm and secure, smelling faintly of his cologne and the clean scent of hotel soap. You rest your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"I'm really glad I got stranded with you," he murmurs into your hair.

"Me too," you whisper back.

You stay like that for a long moment, two strangers who suddenly feel anything but. When you finally pull apart, his eyes are soft, full of an emotion that makes your breath catch.

"Text me when you get settled?" he asks, his voice hopeful.

"I will," you promise. "Good luck at your game tonight, Macklin."

"Thanks," he says, his smile widening. "Having you there will be all the luck I need."

With one last look, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, watching until he disappears into the crowd. You touch your lips, still smiling from your last interaction, already looking forward to seeing him again.

As you make your own way out of the airport, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It's a text from an unknown number:

Didn't want to wait to hear from you. Already missing our pillow wall. - M

You laugh, typing back a quick reply:

"Whoa," he murmurs, taking in the collection red marks scattered across his back, shoulders, and neck. "She really went to town."

He showers quickly, trying to be gentle with the sensitive skin, but there's no hiding the evidence of your passion. As he pulls on his practice jersey, he knows there's no way his teammates won't notice.

"Morning, Celly," Will calls as Macklin enters the locker room. "Rough night? You look like you got into a fight with a vacuum cleaner."

Macklin flushes, pulling his jersey higher. "Something like that."

The teasing continues throughout practice, with various teammates commenting on his appearance. It's not until they're in the locker room afterward, changing, that the full extent of your handiwork is revealed.

"Holy shit," someone whistles. "Dude, what happened to you?"

Macklin tries to play it cool. "Just had a busy night."

"Busy night with who?" asks another teammate, leaning in for a closer look. "These look like... hickeys. Lots of them."

The locker room erupts in laughter and catcalls. Macklin just shrugs, trying to hide his smile.

"Let me guess," says Misa, grinning. "It was with that sweet little girlfriend of yours? What's her name again? The one who brings us cookies?"

"Her name is Y/N," Macklin says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "And yes, it was with her."

The laughter dies down, replaced by disbelief.

"No way," someone says. "There's no way that she was behind this. She's too... nice."

"Yeah," agrees another. "She bakes us treats after every game. She probably blushes when someone says hell."

Macklin can't help but laugh at their perception of you. "You guys have no idea."

"Prove it," challenges Misa. "Bring her to practice tomorrow. If she's really the one responsible for... this," he gestures to Macklin's back, "then I'll buy dinner for the whole team. But if you're lying, you're on snack duty for a month."

"You're on," Macklin agrees without hesitation.

The next day, you arrive at the practice facility with a tray of your famous chocolate chip cookies, as you often do. The team greets you warmly, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity as they glance between you and Macklin.

"Hey, Y/N," Will says, accepting a cookie with a wink. "Thanks for the treats. These are almost as good as the ones Macklin was covered in yesterday."

You flush, but play along. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," he replies, grinning. "So, we have a little bet going. Macklin says you're responsible for the... artwork on his back. We say there's no way you could be so... creative."

You glance at Macklin, who's trying to hide his smile. "Is that right?"

"Yep," Will confirms. "So, what do you say? Did you leave those marks?"

You consider your response for a moment, then lean in conspiratorially. "Let's just say that Macklin may look sweet and innocent, but he has a... wild side to him. And I'm more than happy to help him explore it."

The locker room falls silent for a beat, then erupts in laughter and cheers.

"No way!" someone exclaims. "Sweet little Y/N does have a wild side!"

"Who knew?" says another, looking at you with newfound respect.

Misa shakes his head, grinning. "Well, I guess I'm buying dinner for the team. But I'm never looking at you and your cookies the same way again."

As you hand out the rest of the cookies, Macklin wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"Told you they had no idea," he murmurs in your ear.

yourusername: posted 8 hours ago

♫: I Know - Fiona Apple

yourusername: this week's book recommendation is Heaven by Mieko Kawakami! This is a beautifully heartbreaking fiction that follows the story of a young Japanese boy who is bullied horrifically, who receives a letter from a girl who is also being bullied, all from his perspective. The friendship that follows is so disgustingly well written, I felt like I knew the characters personally, inside & out at the end of the book. 9.3/10.

liked by fan93, fan9, friend7, cattoffoli, yoursister and 11,193 others

COMMENTS...

fan91: Listening to your review before I start it, my library has it in stock, so I knew it was destiny!!!!

yourusername: the book wanted you to read it!

cattoffoli: Interesting read! Your international book picks are always very well thought out. Excited for next week.

yourusername: !!! Your praise always means the world!!! Just ask and i'd give you a list of recommendations personally!

fan9: My niche podcaster I love u

liked by yourusername

fan1: You are the smartest person on earth maybe

yourusername: Haha only in literature & history! I know fuck all about math

yoursister: Banger can I borrow ur copy

yourusername: yes but don't dog ear my book

random93: Why TF is cat toffoli in the comments???

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yourusername: posted 9 hours ago

♫: Bigmouth Strikes Again - The Smiths

yourusername: this week's recommendation isn't a surprise, because we all know how much I adore Kafka. The book of the week is The Trial by Franz Kafka! The cruelty of the totalitarian state run by a faceless bureaucracy is Josef K's biggest enemy as he finds himself under suspicion, then under arrest and (hence the title) in trial for a crime he is being accused of without any context as to what the crime was. It was an easy pickup for me, since I already love Kafka's work, but i read it after (one of last months book recommendations) The Idiot by Dostoyevsky. No notes, should be required reading. 10/10

liked by cattoffoli, fan924, fan21, friend9, yoursister, _willsmith2 and 15,930 others

COMMENTS...

_willsmith2: Would you recommend this book as a starting point for Kafka's work? Or would The Metamorphosis be an easier read for someone who is just starting to get into his books?

yourusername: Amazing question!!! I'd say The Trial is a very easy starting point, but starting with The Metamorphosis would definitely not hurt, just because of it's length as well. Better to get familiar with his style.

fan364: Hey so WILL SMITH HOCKEY is in ur comments???

yourusername: I don't know anything about hockey!!!! sorry!!!! im unfortunately a football fan :,)

yoursister: Mom's favorite book!!!

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fan5: OMG my favorite book I never thought you'd talk about it iloveuiloveuiloveu

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yourusername: posted 3 hours ago

♫: Champagne Supernova - Oasis

yourusername: Recommendation this week isn't a novel!!! I know!!! the horror!!!! My book of the week is Monsters by Claire Dederer! This book dissects the discomfort & awkwardness of loving what bad people do professionally &/ or create. My favorite example would be Quinn Hughes! (can you tell I'm getting into hockey, thanks @cattoffoli !!!) This book was a good read, very thought provoking! It will help you think more about your moral values as you consume media of any kind. 9.1/10

liked by cattoffoli, fan9274, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, tofff73, fan29, friend8 and 21,910 others

COMMENTS...

fan930: Why is the entire roster of the San Jose sharks in this woman's likes LMAOOO

liked by yourusername

_willsmith2: Picked up my copy this morning. 🫡

yourusername: My man! Happy reading!

mackcelebrini: We feel very uncreative, we all started a bookclub but instead of seeking out books on our own, we all read your recommendations.

yourusername: AWWW this is so sweet! 🤍 i hope they live up to standard

fan5: Insane qh43 diss in caption....

yoursister: Good book, although, I'd say the best example is like.. idk, Morrisey?

yourusername: #andnowiknowhowjoanofarcfelt

fan938: have you read every book ever

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yourusername: posted 7 hours ago

♫: Friday I'm in Love - The Cure

yourusername: Due to you all spamming my comments asking for it, i sat down with @mackcelebrini and talked books! This week's book recommendation, due to being Mack's favorite, is The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald! Not to be overly approving of someone else's recommendation.... but this was one of my favorite books I read in highschool! The symbolism in this book comes with every page you turn, along with a look into the more controversial side of the rolling 20's. F Scott Fitzgerald was widely criticized for this work, but it is now his most well known book. 8.8/10

TAGGED: @mackcelebrini

liked by cattoffoli, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, tofff73, friend7, fan92 and 50,927 others

COMMENTS...

_willsmith2: Straight lying, his favorite book is green eggs and ham by Dr Seuss. It's all he can read.

yourusername: He is three minutes old, be kind to him, world ❤️

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2 and others

mackcelebrini: Thank you for having me! I felt like I got smarter talking to you!

yourusername: You might have !! 📚 You did so well, come back anytime!

cattoffoli: Waiting for my invite!

yourusername: Trust me, you're next!

fan93: Defo flerting

fan1: This is so cute I'm all for it, but did this mf just ask you who Sylvia Plath is???

yourusername: I'll put him on, trust me !

friend9: I'm going to start a rumor

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yourusername: posted 2 hours ago

♫: Puppy Love - Paul Anka

yourusername: a soft launch & a book recommendation! call me a woman of many talents! this week's recommendation is Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert! It's an astonishingly accurate depiction of a woman falling out of love. We follow the story of Emma Bovary as she steps out of wedlock due to boredom and delusion, but it is slowly revealed that her actions had devastating consequences. 9.4/10

liked by mackelebrini, cattoffoli, yoursister, _willsmith2, fan43 and 42,909 others

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yourusername: posted 11 hours ago

♫: Jonny - Faye Webster

yourusername: Hard launch i suppose! My first time, let me know how I did!! (get it, because you can't comment heheheh) The week's book recommendation is Beautiful Boy by David Sheff! This has to be one of my favorite books that had movie adaptations of it. It's heartbreaking, it's hopeful, it's soul crushing, it's descriptive in ways you need it to be, even if it's hard to swallow. It shows the perspective of how someone with an addict in their life is affected by their addiction, even without ever touching the drug. 10/10.

TAGGED: @mackcelebrini

liked by cattoffoli, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, yoursister, friend7 and 67,739 others

COMMENTS...

mackcelebrini: Great book so far, almost done with your copy 🫡

yourusername: !!! give me a personal review later ;)

cattoffoli: Never once missing a recommendation, even if you get into a relationship! You're consistent as hell!!!

yourusername: A man will never top books on my list of priorities

tofff73: This book made me cry, wouldn't recommend.

yourusername: Wasn't it just so well written!! ugh crying throwing up screaming

_willsmith2: No more than one line about Mack, nonchalant god 🙏

yourusername: He holds more space in my heart than he does in my captions!

yoursister: Cutest 🤍

friend7: I was third wheeling their first date if anyone was wondering

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