#san jose sharks imagine

[777bae]

HIS JERSEY WILL SMITH

Summary :: Will wasn’t expecting to find you curled up in his jersey, but the sight stops him in his tracks. What starts as teasing shifts into something unspoken—a quiet claim, a piece of him that now belongs to you. (REQUESTED :: prompt 25)

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 2.5k

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the TV playing a rerun of some show you don’t particularly care about, the kind that’s easy to leave on as background noise. The comfort of the silence wraps around you like a warm blanket, the world outside your apartment fading with every lazy minute. You’re curled up on the couch, the soft cushions cradling you as you sink deeper into them. Your legs are tucked under a pile of blankets, the weight of it all settling perfectly against your skin. It’s the kind of night you don’t get too often—one where you can completely let go, allow yourself to just be.

The room feels like a sanctuary—warm, inviting, cocooned from whatever chaos may be happening elsewhere. The walls seem to hum with a quiet energy, and the dim lighting casts long shadows that dance lazily around the space, creating a sense of peace you didn’t realize you were craving until now. Your breath slows, your mind quiets, and the small comforts of home—blankets, the faint aroma of coffee still lingering in the air, the soft whir of the fridge in the other room—become everything you need in this moment.

It’s then you realize you’re wearing his jersey.

The realization doesn’t come as a shock, not exactly. You’d noticed the familiar fabric draped over the back of the chair earlier, and without thinking, you’d pulled it on, reveling in its softness and how easily it swallowed you. It’s too big on you—sagging loosely around your shoulders and flowing down over your thighs—but it’s comfortable in a way nothing else is. The fabric feels like it was made for this, made for you to wear in this space, in this moment of complete relaxation. And even though you hadn’t expected him home yet, it feels right, like a part of him has been woven into the fibers.

The faint scent of him clings to the fabric. It’s a blend of ice and cologne, sharp and fresh, with just a trace of sweat from the game still hanging in the air. It’s the scent of him when he’s just finished skating hard, his body still buzzing with the adrenaline, his presence still lingering even after he’s left the rink. You find yourself tugging the jersey closer, as if that scent could somehow ground you more, hold you tighter in the warmth of this moment.

You hadn’t expected him home so early, not with his usual routine after a game. The late-night practices, the media stuff, the need to unwind with the guys after everything winds down. You figured you’d have more time, more space to just sink into the couch, stay hidden under the blankets in your own little bubble. But then, the quiet rhythm of your world shatters.

The front door clicks open. You hear the jingle of keys and the familiar sound of a bag being dropped by the entrance. Your heart skips a beat—shifting from lazy contentment to sudden alertness. The door creaks as it pushes open, and you hear the soft shuffle of boots against the hardwood floor.

And then he steps inside.

Will.

You don’t need to see him fully to know it’s him—his presence fills the space before his face even appears, an easy confidence that always seems to follow him in whatever room he enters. The scent of him—colder now, but still unmistakable—seems to fill the doorway as he walks in, the cool air from outside trailing behind him. His hair is damp from the post-game shower, still dripping slightly, the dark strands sticking to his forehead in a way that only seems to make him look more effortlessly disheveled. He’s wearing a pair of worn jeans and a loose hoodie that looks comfortable, but it’s the way he carries himself that commands attention. His eyes scan the room for a moment, settling on you when he spots the jersey you’ve pulled on.

It’s like the world slows for a second, his gaze locking onto you. You can’t help but notice the way his posture shifts when he notices you—slightly straightening, that familiar grin tugging at his lips. He’s surprised, but there’s something else in his expression too. Something softer, quieter. Like he’s just found something he didn’t know he was looking for.

For a beat, neither of you says anything. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and he stands there for a second, just watching you.

Then, he speaks.

“Well, well.” His voice is a little rough from the game, low and gravelly in the way it always gets when he’s just walked off the ice. “Didn’t think I’d be coming home to this.”

It’s playful, teasing, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your breath hitch. His gaze drifts over the jersey that hangs too loosely around your frame, like he’s taking in every detail of you, and it feels oddly intimate.

Your hands instinctively tug at the hem of the fabric, unsure if you should pull it tighter or let it hang. You were comfortable before, relaxed in the warmth of the jersey, but now, with him standing there, so close, it feels different.

You try to keep your voice steady. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, and that signature smirk of his begins to stretch across his lips, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. There’s something about the way he watches you that makes the air around you feel heavier, like the space between you both is shrinking, becoming charged with unspoken understanding. “Clearly,” he says, his voice low and effortlessly confident. The way he lets the word hang in the air tells you he’s already figured it out, and for some reason, the realization makes you feel a little exposed—though you don’t quite mind it.

He drops his bag by the door with a soft thud, the sound breaking the silence, but he doesn’t rush. He takes his time, each step toward you deliberate, measured, like he’s savoring every second of this moment. There’s no hurry in his movements, no rush to break the distance. It’s that slow, easy swagger of his—one that always makes you feel like he’s got the world under control, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, where he’s going. And now, it feels like he’s walking directly into your space, right into your bubble of comfort that you’ve carefully crafted all evening.

He stops just short of you, so close now that the air between you seems to pulse. Your heart skips a beat, caught between the unexpectedness of his arrival and the quiet tension that’s suddenly settled into the room. His eyes—dark and warm—are locked on you, and in that moment, it’s like nothing else exists. He leans down over the back of the couch, his frame towering over you as his face inches closer. You can feel the heat of his body now, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the sharp, fresh smell of post-game sweat. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes your pulse race a little faster, your breath hitching in your chest.

He hovers there for a moment, his eyes scanning you, lingering on the way his jersey hangs on your frame. There’s a flicker of something playful in his gaze, but then it shifts—just for an instant—into something deeper. Something more intense. His lips curve into that familiar, teasing grin, but it’s softened now, edged with something unspoken. And then, as though the weight of it all hits him, he asks in a voice that’s a little quieter, a little more intimate than before:

“That mine?”

His words seem to hang in the air, his tone a little lower than usual, like he’s considering something more than just the obvious question. His eyes move over you, not in the usual way, but with a kind of focus that makes you feel both exposed and utterly seen. He’s not just looking at the jersey—he’s looking at you, taking in the way it fits on you, how you’ve made it your own, how it’s become a part of you in this moment.

You want to act casual, to brush off the weight of his gaze, but your heartbeat picks up, skipping erratically in your chest. You can’t quite keep your voice steady, but you try. “No,” you say with a light laugh, even though your throat feels dry. “I went out and got my own personalized Smith jersey.” The words feel almost ridiculous coming out of your mouth, because you both know that’s not the truth.

Will lets out a soft laugh, rich and warm, and the sound wraps around you like a comforting blanket, but it’s the way he says the next part that makes your stomach flip. “Looks good on you.”

His words settle between you both like a quiet confession, a whispered truth that wasn’t there a second ago. You weren’t prepared for the weight they carry, for the way they shift something in the air, in the way you feel. He says it with such ease, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like it’s obvious, undeniable. The way he’s looking at you now, with that half-smile still playing at the corners of his lips, makes your breath catch in your throat. His eyes don’t leave you, they linger there, and suddenly, the room feels smaller, the space between you both much less comfortable than it was just moments ago.

Your skin tingles under his gaze, a heat rising to your cheeks that you can’t quite explain. You want to brush it off, to pretend like it doesn’t matter, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—so effortlessly and with such intensity—that makes you feel like you’re both standing on the edge of something.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off, but even as you do, you know it’s half-hearted. His grin is contagious, that knowing, easy smile that makes your lips curve despite your attempts to resist it. The playful spark in his eyes pulls at you, and before you realize it, you’re tugging the jersey down a little further, trying to hide behind the fabric, but it doesn’t really work. Will isn’t looking away. He’s still watching you closely, his focus sharp, like he can see straight through the act.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he just shifts, his body moving closer, closer until his hand brushes against the back of the couch where you’re sitting. The light touch is enough to send a shiver down your spine, the air around you suddenly charged. He settles down beside you, that easy confidence never leaving him as he leans back against the cushions, his knee brushing against yours in the most casual way, but you feel it all the same.

“Hope you weren’t too comfy,” Will teases, his voice warm and playful as he stretches his arm across the back of the couch, the movement casual but somehow deliberate. His knee grazes yours just as he settles in beside you, the faintest touch that sends a jolt of warmth through your body. He’s making himself at home—his presence completely filling the space in a way that only he can. The familiar ease with which he claims the space beside you makes everything feel… different.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips, breathless and slightly nervous, but it feels good—genuine in its lightness. “I was fine until you showed up,” you admit, glancing up at him with a half-smile, feeling the quiet shift in the room, like the atmosphere has become just a little bit heavier.

Will shrugs, his movement effortless, the way he always does, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But then his fingers reach for the blanket, pulling it more firmly around you both, his arm curling just a little closer to you. It’s subtle, almost instinctual, but there’s something in the way his hand brushes the fabric that feels different, like an unspoken promise. “Well, now you’re stuck with me,” he says, his voice light, but there’s a softness underneath the words, an undercurrent that makes you pause, your breath catching for just a second. The playful glint in his eyes is still there, but there’s something more behind it now. Something steady and quiet.

You shift slightly on the couch, trying to adjust your position, but the feeling of the jersey—his jersey—around you feels suddenly more charged, more intimate. You hadn’t noticed before how the fabric clings just a little more to your skin now, how the weight of it against your body seems to amplify every small shift, every breath you take. It feels like a piece of him, like something that’s meant to be close. But you’re not sure if it’s the jersey itself or the way he’s leaning into your space, closer now, his presence surrounding you completely.

His gaze doesn’t leave you, that same confident but knowing look in his eyes, like he’s made some quiet decision that this moment, this space, belongs to both of you. You can feel it without him needing to say it aloud—he’s not rushing, not forcing anything. There’s a calm, patient certainty to him as he watches you, and it makes something stir inside you.

Then, as if to seal the unspoken promise between you, he leans in just a little closer, his voice quieter, his words hanging in the air. “Keep it,” he says, and there’s no playfulness this time, no teasing edge—just pure sincerity. “It looks better on you anyway.”

His words hit you like a soft wave, unexpected and gentle, but somehow grounding. The way he says it—so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth—makes something inside you shift. You weren’t prepared for that. Not for the weight those words carry, not for the quiet implication that goes beyond the jersey itself, beyond what’s happening between you in this moment.

For a heartbeat, you blink, your breath catching in your throat as you process it. You’d expected him to joke, to keep up the playful banter, but instead, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes now—a softness that you hadn’t seen before. It’s not just about the jersey anymore. It’s about something more—something deeper between you, something unspoken, but heavy with meaning.

The words feel like a quiet confession, a little piece of something shared between you both, something that feels real in a way you weren’t prepared for. You didn’t know what you were expecting when you threw on the jersey, but you sure as hell didn’t expect it to feel like this. The fabric still hangs loosely on you, a little oversized, the edges of it crinkling around your thighs, but now it feels right. It feels like it belongs—like this moment belongs.

The world outside fades away, and in that quiet stillness between you, everything feels perfectly aligned. You don’t need to say anything more. There’s no need for words when the weight of the unspoken feels like it fills every inch of space between you, when the simplest act of wearing his jersey feels like a connection that goes deeper than anything you’ve shared before.

[peachhcs]

we need more macklin fics and fluff bc that one was actually so cute. i need more asap 🩷

sorority formal

still debating if i should make a macklin au to add to my samy + will verse (HAHA my own fanfic verse??) but here’s some more fluff between the lovely rookie and his gf from santa clara university :) — also cleaning out my inbox so that’s why i’ve posted four times in a row LOL

also if this is bad i’m so sorry. i lowkey awkwardly switch between 2nd person and 3rd person pov sometimes so apologies for that. otherwise, i’m really starting to like writing about mack 😌 (slight allusion to sex but there’s no sex actually described just kissing)

masterlist

macklin had never been to a college sorority formal before, nor did he really understand what it was or what to expect, but he agreed to be your date nonetheless. plus, the look on your face was hard to say no to when you asked him two weeks ago.

the brunette was in his room trying to find the right suit to wear while will sat in the corner on his phone. he knew a little bit from when he was at boston, but he never found any interest in going to those frat and sorority parties, so the rookie was a bit in the dark when it came to this stuff.

will wasn’t much help either.

“i dunno man. i’ve never been to a sorority formal before. i assume it’s the same as any other formal? i’ve been to samy’s soccer banquet,” will shrugged, watching his friend try on his third suit.

“y/n said to just wear something neutral. her dress is pink i think,” macklin explained as he examined the dark navy suit in the mirror.

“i think that looks fine. navy and pink go well?” will nodded.

“i’m kind of nervous. is that bad? i don’t really know what to expect,” obviously, he didn’t want to make y/n look like a fool at her own sorority, so the boy’s nerves were at an all time high at the moment. what if he did something stupid?

“samy texted me back and she said it’s like prom but for college. there will be food and drinks and then you dance if you want. some sororities will do speeches or superlatives,” will read off the text his girlfriend just sent him.

“oh, okay. that’s not too bad then. i’ll be fine,” macklin assured himself and decided on the navy blue suit.

“yeah, it will be chill. you basically get to spend a whole night with your girlfriend,” will grinned and the brunette couldn’t help but smile at the thought. he hadn’t seen you in a few days because of your crazy busy schedules, so having this night to yourselves would be nice.

“yeah, you’re right. it will be chill and we’ll have fun,”macklin was basically saying positive affirmations to himself at this point which made will chuckle. he stood up to help his friend with his suit.

“don’t even sweat it, dude. she’s gonna love you,” the blonde assured and if will thought so, then macklin was gonna believe it.

once he was finished getting dressed, he grabbed his phone to let you know he was on his way over to your dorm. the boy rushed through the house, double checking his pockets that he had phone (check), keys (check), wallet (check), and a small bouquet he decided picking up for you because he knew you liked flowers.

“knock ‘em dead!” will called from the porch as macklin got into his car.

the brunette drove the short drive to the university. being new to driving in the states still and the nerves about tonight made his hands a bit shaky as he turned onto the drive that led to your dorm. he didn’t need to sweat this. it was you. y/n. his girlfriend. there was no reason for him to be nervous about some sorority formal.

he parked in the lot and climbed out, doing a third check that he had all of his belongings. you were waiting in the lobby for him after getting his text about being on his way. the hockey player stopped in his tracks though when he laid eyes on you.

your strapless, silky dress stopped around your ankles where he could see your pretty white heels. your hair was down like it usual was and macklin was pretty sure his pupils turned to hearts.

“hi,” you grinned when he got closer.

“hi..wow..you look..” the boy lost his words making you laugh.

“you look pretty..wow,” you complimented his navy suit.

“s-so do you. wow..i..i’m in awe,” he admitted earning a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re sweet. are these for me?” you noticed the bouquet wobbling in his hands. the brunette quickly flushed and handed them over to you.

“yes, sorry. they are.”

you admired the pretty pink and red petals, “thank you. these are pretty. wanna come up for a second so i can put them in water?” it wasn’t really a question because macklin was going to follow you regardless.

the two of you stepped into the elevator. mack’s nerves were now because of how beautiful you looked beside him and he didn’t know how to express it other than telling you and the building desire to kiss you. he followed you down to your dorm. your roommate grinned at him.

“hey mack,” maya waved.

“hey maya,” he waved back.

“look, he brought me flowers,” you showed maya the pretty bouquet.

“wow, brownie points for the hockey player,” she teased a bit which made him flush. he watched you find a vase and fill it with water from your bathroom. you came back out and placed the flowers into the vase.

“like them?” you asked for his opinion.

“i like them,” he nodded.

“i’ll put them by my desk for now. thank you, again,” you pecked his cheek.

“of course,” the boy was glad you liked them and he was glad he decided on getting them the other day because the smile on your face was so worth it after spending an hour at the store trying to pick them out.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. we’ll be back later,” you called to maya who threw up a thumbs up.

“have fun! don’t get too drunk.”

you went back down the elevator and then out of the building where you latched your arm with mack’s. he rubbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“it’s not far from here,” you explained as you led the way.

“i’ve never been to one of these before,” the boy admitted a bit nervously.

“don’t worry, it’s so chill. you’ll get to meet some of my sorority sisters, we’ll eat, dance, drink some, and then we can leave whenever,” you explained and it eased some of mack’s nerves a bit more hearing you explain it. as much as he appreciated samy’s brief explanation, he also liked hearing it come from your lips too.

the two of you came up on one of the college bars in the area. it was already blasting music that could be heard from outside. macklin followed you inside where you were immediately greeted with security to check your ids. you both got little x’s on your hands meaning neither of you were 21. mack’s gaze flicked around the space that was dimly lit and pumping base through his bones.

“omg, y/n, hey!” a girl greeted you.

“hi jen, you look gorgeous!” you admired your friend’s dress.

“no you do! is this your boyfriend?” she turned her attention to mack.

“yes, this is macklin,” you gripped his arm again and the boy managed a tiny smile.

“nice to meet you. i’m jen, the sorority president. come on in. we have food in the back and drinks at the bar so get whatever,” jen explained.

you quickly led macklin to the back because you were starving. the boy watched you take a plate so he copied whatever you did. you laughed at his behavior.

“don’t be so nervous, mack.”

“sorry. just getting used to it all,” he said. he’d never been into a bar before because he wasn’t old enough first of all and if he was caught underage drinking he’d definitely get a mean punishment from his coach.

“it’s okay. it’s overwhelming, but i’m right here remember,” you assured and some of the worries eased hearing you say that. macklin offered a grateful smile as he followed your lead with the food and then followed you to a seat.

you sat with some other girls and their dates which got all of you quickly talking. the more you talked, the more comfortable macklin became and flushed when a few people recognized him as a hockey player. being next to you made him feel a lot more comfortable too. seeing you look so calm and content helped him do the same and by the time you were done eating, he was having a full conversation with some of the guys without you involved.

“let’s get pictures!” one girl exclaimed when she came around with her camera.

you pulled mack up. he eagerly wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you smiling wide as the flash went off—almost blinding you guys because it was so bright and the room was so dark.

“aw, you guys look adorable,” the girl spun the camera around so you could see the preview. macklin quickly kissed your cheek.

“i love it, thanks,” you said.

you guys ventured back towards the center of the dance floor to start dancing along with the others. macklin was big on getting to dance, so he took full advantage, urging you to join his energy. you giggled at the way he bounced on his feet and pulled out his best dance moves for you.

when everyone started coming onto the floor, it got warm fast so the brunette lost his suit jacket leaving him in just his dress shirt that was almost halfway unbuttoned by now. his arms were around your waist, the two of you swaying to the beat and being in your own world together.

any anxiety the rookie felt earlier had completely disappeared being in the center of the dance floor with you. all that mattered to him was you in his arms as he spun you around.

“did i tell you how gorgeous you look?” the boy leaned in closer as he spoke over the music.

“you did, yes,” you grinned.

“well i’ll tell you again. you look gorgeous. prettiest girl here,” his words earned a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re too sweet, mack.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n. you’re beautiful,” he leaned in closer, still wanting that kiss he hadn’t gotten yet. you saw his request and closed the gap.

the two of you shared a sweet kiss, not caring that there were others around you or watching. your lips felt like heaven against the hockey player’s. he never wanted to let you go, but forced himself to to get some air back into his lungs.

“i could kiss you forever,” he mumbled.

“me too,” and you reconnected your lips for another quick kiss. mack’s hands wandered a bit lower towards your hips and then swiping over your ass. a giggle left your lips at his behavior.

“we should save this for the dorm,” you smiled while directing him away for now. a little pout appeared, but he understood and let you go.

the music picked up again and it had him spinning you around once more. because all of his focus was on hockey growing up, the brunette’s never had an experience of going to an end of the year dance or prom or anything, so he was glad he was getting to make this up with you right now.

as the night winded down, you and macklin decided to leave. he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders for the quick five minute walk back to your dorm. you appreciated his gesture, tugging it closer to your body to hide yourself from the semi-cold evening temperatures.

“thanks for coming tonight,” you smiled as you rode the elevator.

“of course. i had a lot of fun. thanks for bringing me,” mack returned your smile.

“i’m glad you did. better get ready for next semester,” you teased a bit and mack’s heart swelled just a little bit at the idea of coming back to your formal because that meant you wanted him enough to stick around for the next one.

he knew what you two had meant a lot to both of you, but sometimes he got in his head just a little bit wondering if he was good enough for you or not enough because he was some big shot hockey player and he knew what everyone thought about hockey players. he worried he wasn’t the one for you even though you were 100% the one for him. he knew it from the day he met you, so hearing you say that made him burst with joy.

maya wasn’t in the dorm, probably taking the hint that you guys wanted the room to yourselves. macklin was glad because he wanted to continue that kissing you guys were doing earlier.

he watched you hang up his suit jacket like you did every time he brought his suits with him and kick your shoes off. he followed suit and then didn’t waste another second bringing your lips to his again.

that urge he’s had all night only got stronger the more he kissed you. you reciprocated all of his actions and unspoken wants, pulling your hand through his pretty brunette locks and running your hand down his chest.

“i love you,” the boy mumbled between kisses.

“i love you,” you breathed.

he found your gaze for a second, wondering if this was right. wondering if you were sure about him. his thoughts were answered though when you grabbed ahold of his face to kiss him again and lead him to your bed.

needless to say, all of his anxieties were eased by the end of the night and the love he had for you had never been bigger.

[toplurker]

“mine forever”

reader x macklin celebrini

when the sharks win, you and macklin know the perfect way to celebrate after going out with some of his teammates

cw: p in v (protected) lowkey a little dom!mack, cursing (?) nsfw!

��˚ · . . · ˚✧

macklin exhales shakily as your hands run down his bare chest, your legs on either sides of his hips. “fuck,” he whispers, his voice uneven and shaky. his hands rest on your thighs with a slight grip, but you can feel it grow tighter and tighter as the seconds go on.

“hmm?” you ask lowly, eyes meeting his, tilting your head slightly. his eyes dart around the room before darting around various parts of your body covered by a satin blue dress, hugging you in just the right places. when he finally meets your eyes, he swallows hard, his cheeks heating up. “it’s just- you’re- you look,” he says, voice quieter than normal and slightly husky. you can feel his bulge grow even more under you as he thinks for words, his eyes looking down towards your thighs around him. “astonishing,” he finally says, meeting your eyes again, before looking towards your lips.

“is that so?” you ask, your attention now on your hands as they slowly glide from his collarbones down to his nipples, moving towards his chest, and running overtop of his abs, feeling the hard and defined muscles. your hands stop at his belt, bringing your eyes back to his eyes. you can feel the patch of wetness in your thin panties growing. his lips push against yours, and he lets out a soft whimper as you tilt your head slightly, tongue meeting his briefly before he pulls back as you trace his belt.

macklin lets a soft groan out as he shifts a little, lifting both of your bodies up slightly before settling back down into the couch. “yeah,” he says, voice tight. his hands slowly move up to rest on your waist. “such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, hands roaming around your torso. your body presses into his more and more and you can feel heat growing between your thighs further and further.

macklins body responds the same as yours, feeling him get tenser. you hear him mumble something but you can’t quite understand it. “speak up macky,” you say softly, hands gently fiddling with his belt. his eyes dart to yours, though yours don’t meet his. “all mine,” he says, his voice a little firm but still quiet. his hands move from your waist down to your thighs, gripping tighter.

your hands slowly fiddle with the buckle, before finally unclamping it. your eyes lock onto his as you undo his button painfully slowly, feeling macklin grow more and more. “you’re killing me,” he says, his voice low, growing raspier by the moment. you respond with a shrug, grabbing a hold of his zipper, slowly undoing it. macklin whimpers, tensing uncomfortably, still for a few moments before grabbing a hold of your hips, flipping you two around, you ending up underneath his body.

“can’t take it anymore,” he murmurs, shaking his head. with one arm he holds himself up over you, the other reaches into his pocket, grabbing a condom, but leaving it in his hand as he undoes his zipper fully, pulling them down with his one hand to around his knee, kicking them off, while he places the condom between his teeth, ripping it. his boxers are next to go, his boner hitting his stomach from the speed of which he removes his underwear.

macklin never fails to make you nervous with his size, and you feel butterflies grow in your stomach. precum leaks from his tip, slowly rolling down his shaft. your hands move to caress his collar bones and shoulders, moving back and forth, before resting one hand on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck. he rolls the condom on before turning his attention to you.

“teasin’ too much,” he says, shaking his head. he pulls one strap off your shoulder, doing the same to the other, and shimmying it upwards off your body. “jesus,” he says, being greeted with you braless, before he turns his attention to your soaked panties. his eyes stay locked onto the sight between your thighs, almost at a loss for words. “shit, all f’me huh?” he says finally, meeting your eyes.

“only you macky,” you whisper, causing a whimper to escape him. he pulls them off you swiftly, lining himself up, circling your dripping hole. “pretty girl, he says, slowly filling you up, pressing his lips onto your shoulder. you both let out a hiss as he bottoms out, your chests hitting each other. your hands reach for his shoulders, holding pretty tight.

he waits a few moments, his forehead resting on yours, your breaths both heavy. his forehead moved to rest on your shoulder, head tilted down to where your bodies meet. he moves to kiss your shoulder before placing his forehead back, slowly pulling out before pushing back in slowly. you pulse around him as he moves at a slow pace. “shit- your- your soaked,” he breaths out, a breathy chuckle escaping. you whimper as he picks up the pace, stretching you out further and further.

your breaths pick up faster and faster, the room filled with sounds of breathing and sounds of your bodies meeting, and slight squelching. “mine,” he spits out, voice tight. “no one else’s,” he adds, his voice low and husky. he picks up his pace and small sweat beads start to grow on his forehead. you let out a breathy moan as he moves a hand to your hip, gripping onto you. you feel his tip hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you and the feeling makes you weak.

your hands make their way to his back, your nails digging into him as he ups his pace, your moans growing louder and the whimpers and groans coming from macklin only continue to become more frequent. his hips start to snap into yours, your nails running down his back. “fuck, i-i’m not lasting much longer,” he breathes out with a groan. his movements become sloppier and you start to move your hips into his, matching him searching for more. “i’m close,” you say with a loud whine. your legs wrap around his waist, feet connecting at his lower back, and it allows him to hit new spots, going even deeper and hitting your g-spot even more.

his head hovers above you, admiring you, and your head tucks into his neck. your an absolute mess, eyes rolling back and body arching into his. “oh my g-” you whimper, feeling that familiar knot form in your stomach. “shit,” macklin says with a moan, and you can tell by how fast he’s moving he’s close. his free hand comes down between your bodies, his thumb tracing fast circles over your clit, his other hand holding him up above you.

“g-gonna cum,” you manage out, legs tightening around him. you feel that knot pulling right in your lower belly before it snaps, and your digging so hard into macklin with your nails you wouldn’t be surprised if you drew blood. “macklin!” you cry out as you release, juices covering macklins length. he continue to pound into your cunt before you feel his actions falter, and he spills into the condom. “fuckkkk,” he groans out with a slight whimper. he rides out his high until he pulls out suddenly, causing you to inhale sharply. he tosses the filled condom in the trash before he collapses on top of you, and broken whimpers escape him as you attempt to catch your breath.

“mine forever,” he says, pressing kisses along your chest, and you simply just wrap your arms across his shoulders, your legs knotting with his.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

ok period first smut lowkey trash but trust guys i will get better

ty for reqs and i will try to do more!!

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Lost In The Woods (And Feelings) - William Eklund

Summary: Y/n and her best friend, hockey player William, go on a week-long camping trip despite having zero experience. As the days go by, Y/n realizes she’s in love with William but believes nothing can happen between.

Words: 849

Y/n had no idea what made her to agree to this.

Camping. A full week of camping.

She and William had been best friends for years, ever since they met back in Sweden. And even after he moved to San Jose for his hockey career, they had managed to keep their friendship intact. FaceTiming at odd hours, sending each other stupid reels, meeting during any kinds of holidays. All that became a new part of their daily routine. And somehow, in between their late-night calls and playful teasing, they convinced themselves that going on a camping trip together was a brilliant idea.

It was not.

“Are you sure you know how to set up a tent?” Y/n asked, arms crossed as she watched William struggle.

“Of course,” he said confidently, before glancing at the tent bag. “I mean… how hard can it be?”

It turned out to be very hard.

“William, that’s not where the pole goes.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you a camping expert all of a sudden or what?”

“I don’t have to be an expert to know that the tent is not supposed to be collapsing,” Y/n protested, stepping back just in time to avoid being caught under the falling mess.

William groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before turning to her with his best innocent smile. “Okay, well, time for a different plan.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You’re cute,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing she had said it out loud until William shot her a smirk.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, turning away to hide the blushing.

After what felt like hours and with the help of YouTube tutorials, they got the tent set up. It still leaned to one side more than the other, which made Y/n secretly question its stability.

That night, they sat by the fire, eating burnt marshmallows because neither of them had the patience to cook them properly. The air was cool, stars lit up the sky above them, and for a moment, Y/n let herself pretend that this was just their life.

Just the two of them, away from everything, no worries about distance or careers or the inevitable goodbye waiting for them at the end of this trip.

“This is nice,” William said, stretching his legs out and tilting his head back to look at the stars.

Y/n hummed in agreement. “Even though we are world’s worst campers in history?”

“Especially because of that.”

She smiled, leaning her head against her knees. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time.”

William turned his head to look at her, his expression softer than usual. “Me neither.”

The way he was looking at her made Y/n’s stomach flip, but she forced herself to push the feeling away.

As the days went by, Y/n found herself slipping into a dangerous kind of comfort.

…

They got lost on a hike. Twice.

"Are you sure we’re going the right way?" she asked.

"Of course I am," William said, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty.

"That’s what you said twenty minutes ago, and we ended up in the same place," Y/n pointed out.

"Fine. I’ll check the GPS - oh."

"What?"

"There’s no service."

Y/n groaned. "Great. We’re going to die out here. With no water and food."

"Relax," William said, placing his arm around her shoulder. "Worst case scenario, we have to eat berries and live in the woods forever."

"Oh, fantastic. That was totally my life plan."

He grinned. "Could be worse. At least you’re stuck with me."

And that was the problem.

The more time they spent together, the more Y/n realized she didn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.

But she also knew nothing could ever happen between them. He lived in San Jose. His life was there, his career, his future. She was in Sweden, and as much as she wanted to believe in something more, reality was much different.

On their last night, as they sat by the fire, Y/n found herself staring at the flames, lost in thoughts.

William nudged her gently. “You okay?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitated before answering. “How things are going to go back to normal after this. You’ll go back to San Jose, I’ll stay in Sweden…”

William was quiet for a moment. Then, he shifted slightly, turning to face her fully.

“Would you ever move?”

Y/n was taken aback. She turned her head to look at him, trying to read his expression. “Move where?”

He shrugged, but there was something careful about the way he asked. “Anywhere.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart pounding. “I don’t know. Maybe. If the reason was good enough.”

William held her gaze for a second longer before he let out a small, almost nervous chuckle. “Good to know.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but as he reached over and squeezed her hand lightly, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in her feelings as she thought.

[nylqnder]

DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW? WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x fem!reader

summary: to will, age is just a number. so he prays you don't care that his is a few notches lower than yours.

warnings: older!reader (i don't specify the exact age gap in this but i was picturing something like 4-5 years), underage drinking technically, appearances from macklin + fabian

wc: 4.74k

notes: sort of but not really based on 'does your mother know?' by ABBA. thanks to mack, we all know will has a thing for older girls so i thought i'd play into that in this fic!

The bar was packed, buzzing with the easy energy of a Friday night crowd. Neon signs flickered against the brick walls, and the air carried the scent of spilled drinks, cheap cologne, and warm laughter. The Sharks had taken over a corner of the place, their voices loud and unfiltered as they reveled in a night out together.

These types of outings, where they could get the full team out together, were rare. The elder Sharks, the ones who carried a bit more of a reputation in the city, had sweet-talked the bouncer into letting the underage players (which began and ended with Macklin and Will) into the bar.

And it’s not that Will didn’t like hanging out with the guys — team bonding was important, after all — but he would much rather be getting dinner or playing a friendly game of poker at someone’s house than sitting in a sterile, impersonal bar, surrounded by strangers whispering about the athletes who had taken over the space.

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to be that guy who turned down a team outing, which is why Will was shifting on his feet, half-listening as Macklin and Fabian argued over something to do with the teams' fantasy basketball league. His fingers tapped the side of the glass, slow beads of condensation dripping to his feet. Will’s gaze drifted over the crowded bar, the neon glow casting a hazy shimmer across the patrons.

Then, over Fabian’s shoulder, he saw you.

You were standing in the middle of the room, chatting with a friend, your fingers wrapped around a drink that glowed under the neon lights. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful — though, Jesus, were you. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you were effortless and composed told him you weren’t just some college kid sneaking in with a fake ID. You belonged here. Older, confident, and gorgeous in a way that made Will’s stomach tighten.

Will felt his fingers tighten around his drink. The ice clinked. He wasn’t sure if it was the way your lips curled slightly in amusement at something your friend said or the way your jewelry caught the light, but suddenly, he couldn’t look away.

“You good, bud?” Fabian asked, his voice cutting through Will’s daze. Will blinked, forcing himself to look away from you, unaware of the way he had completely tuned out of the conversation, but it was too late. Macklin turned and followed his gaze, grinning when he spotted the reason for Will’s sudden distraction.

“Ohhh no,” Macklin laughed. “Not again. You and older girls, man.”

Fabian breathed out a laugh, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean ‘again’?”

Macklin snorted, leaning in like he was about to let Fabian in on the best inside joke of all time. “Smitty’s got a thing for older ladies. It’s like, a pattern at this point.”

Will’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Mack—”

But Macklin was already in full storyteller mode. “No, seriously. It’s actually impressive. During training camp, he spent an entire charity event chatting with some reporter — what was her name? Megan? Melissa?”

“Madeline,” Will corrected before he could stop himself.

Macklin grinned like he’d won something. “Right, Madeline. She was like, pushing thirty, and our boy here was in love.”

“No way. You’ve got mommy issues?” he teased, leaning his weight against the bar with a smug expression.

Will scowled at the Swedish player. “I do not have mommy issues,” he shot back, his voice firm, though the way Fabian and Macklin exchanged glances only made their amusement grow.

“Dude, you might,” Fabian said, barely holding back his laughter. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.”

Macklin hummed in agreement. “Freud would have a field day with you.”

Will exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Can you both shut up?” He wasn’t even looking at them anymore, his attention already drifting back to where you stood. You had leaned in to say something to your friend, your laughter light and easy, and he could swear he felt it in his chest. You swerved through the crowd, moving to the other end of the bar from where Will, Macklin, and Fabian had set up camp.

Fabian, catching the way Will’s focus had shifted again, grinned. “Oh, he’s gone,” he said, nudging Macklin. “You thinking about making a move, lover boy?”

Will didn’t answer immediately. He knew they were waiting for some sheepish denial, some excuse, but the truth was, he was thinking about it.

He could already hear the chirps that would come if he got rejected, but what if he didn’t? What if you looked at him with the same quiet intrigue he felt pulling him toward you?

“Maybe,” he said finally, rolling his shoulders back like he was prepping for a faceoff.

Macklin made a sound of mock surprise. “No way. Is Will Smith — shy?”

Fabian smirked. “Nah, he’s just trying to figure out how to tell her he still has a bedtime.”

Will shot them both a glare before setting his drink down with a decisive clink. “You guys are the worst,” he muttered before stepping away.

Fabian and Macklin barely held in their laughter as they watched him go.

“Ten bucks says he fumbles,” Fabian said.

Macklin grinned. “You’re on.”

Will wove his way through the crowd, his pulse quickening with every step closer. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. He’d done harder things than this — skated in front of thousands, taken hits from guys twice his size, gone head-to-head with some of the best players in the league. And yet, somehow, walking up to you felt like a whole different kind of challenge.

By the time he reached your side of the bar, he still didn’t have a plan. Solid. Great start.

You noticed him before he could figure out what to say. Your eyes flicked to him, curious, like you were waiting to see if he was just passing by or if he had something to say.

Now or never.

“Hey,” he started, voice steady despite the way his brain scrambled for something smooth to follow up with.

Your lips curled slightly, amusement flickering across your face. “Hey,” you echoed, tipping your head.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting. The bar hummed around you, neon lights painting the scene in electric blues and reds, but for Will, everything had narrowed to just you and the expectant tilt of your head.

He needed to say something. Preferably something that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

“I, uh—” He scratched the back of his neck, already mentally cringing. Good start. “I saw you from over there, and I just—”

Your lips twitched. “And you just?”

Will’s mind scrambled, trying to steer the conversation away from the cliff he was about to drive it off. “And I just thought…” He let out a breath, regaining just enough composure to push forward. “I just thought it would be a shame if I didn’t come over and introduce myself.”

Your lips quirked, amused. “Oh? And who exactly am I being introduced to?”

“Will,” he said, his name falling a little too quickly from his lips, like he was trying to get ahead of himself before he could mess it up. “Will Smith.”

“Like the actor?”

Will exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Exactly like the actor.”

Your grin widened, and he caught the glint of your teeth under the neon glow. “That must be a pain.”

“You have no idea.”

You considered him for a moment, the neon glow catching the sharp angles of his face. Up close, he was undeniably good-looking — boyish, but not in a bad way.

There was something almost endearing about him, the way his features still carried that lingering trace of youth, all bright eyes and easy grins. He had the kind of face that wouldn’t look out of place on a college campus, fresh-faced and full of promise, but almost too young to be leaning against the bar like he belonged there.

Your gaze flickered over him, noting the way his jawline was sharp but not quite settled, like he was still growing into it. His confidence wavered just slightly, a split-second hesitation in his stance that made you wonder if he’d been carded at the door or if he’d just slipped past on sheer luck.

Still, there was a charm to him, an energy that made it hard to look away.

“I swear I had something good to say to you, but then you smiled at me, and now I can’t remember a single word. So… hi. That’s all I got.”

Your lips curved. He was trying, at least. But he didn’t have that seasoned ease of someone who truly belonged here. No, he had the slight stiffness of someone who was conscious of their presence, like he was waiting for someone to tap him on the shoulder and ask to see his ID again.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Will?” you asked, feigning curiosity.

You watched it land, the way his mouth opened slightly before he shut it again, his brain catching up with his reaction. He blinked, then let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “That depends,” he said, leaning in slightly, his confidence rebounding just enough to take the bait. “Is it working?”

You smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Instead of answering, you let your gaze sweep over him again, slow and deliberate, before lifting your glass to your lips. You took a sip, savoring the way he followed the movement, eyes tracking you like he was bracing for your verdict.

You set your drink down, tilting your head slightly. “How old are you, Will?”

His response came fast. Too fast. “Twenty-one.”

It was rushed, a little too eager, and there was a telltale flicker of something in his eyes — uncertainty? Guilt? The kind of panic that came with trying a little too hard to sell a lie. The words wavered just enough to make you suspicious.

Your gaze flickered over him, taking in the baby face, the patchy facial hair, the way his shoulders squared like he was bracing himself.

“Hmm,” you murmured, pretending to consider it, but the smirk pulling at the corner of your lips betrayed you.

“You don’t believe me?” Will asked, his chest puffing out slightly as if that was what would convince you of his age.

You let the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Then, finally, you shrugged, lips curving. “I don’t know. You just seem very…” You trailed off, letting your gaze drag over him again. “…eager.”

He scoffed, recovering quickly. “What, and that’s a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” You tilted your head. “Just makes me wonder what else you might be exaggerating.”

Will’s grin turned a little sharper, a little more playful. “Oh, I see how it is. You think I’m all talk.”

“I think you’re trying very hard to impress me.”

He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with challenge. “Is it working?”

And there it was — that boyish confidence that made you want to test him, just a little.

Instead of answering, you took a slow sip of your drink, letting him watch the movement, letting the anticipation build. When you finally set your glass down, you gave him an almost lazy smile. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Alright… well hypothetically, if it was working… what would happen next?"

Your lips curved, amused by his persistence. “Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.” His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before snapping back up to meet your eyes, and damn if that didn’t send a little thrill through you.

You pretended to consider it. “Well, I suppose I’d let you buy me a drink.”

Will’s smile widened. “I like where this is going.”

“And maybe, if you were really charming, I’d let you keep talking to me.”

“Oh, I can be really charming,” he assured you, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world. He raised a hand to flag down the bartender, doing it with such confidence that, for a moment, you almost believed he’d done this before. Almost enough to convince you of his age. Almost.

“What’re you having?” Will asked as the bartender made her way over to the two of you.

You leaned in just slightly, close enough to catch the faintest whiff of his cologne — clean, fresh, like something effortlessly expensive. “Surprise me.”

His lips quirked. “Dangerous game. What if I get you something awful?”

You shrugged, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “Then I’ll know you have terrible taste.”

Will let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. No pressure.”

The bartender approached, and Will ordered with smooth confidence. A cheer from the other side of the bar muted his words, so the drink would be a surprise to you. You watched the way he carried himself, the way he leaned just enough to show he was comfortable but not overly cocky. He was trying. Not in an over-rehearsed way, but in a way that suggested he actually cared if you enjoyed his company.

As the bartender slid the drinks across the counter, Will pushed the faintly pink drink toward you with a flick of his fingers. “Moment of truth.”

You took a slow sip, letting the moment stretch, knowing he was watching you closely. The drink was smooth, well-balanced, with just the right amount of kick.

You hummed, setting it down. “Not bad. Maybe you do have taste.”

Will pressed a hand to his chest like you’d just granted him the highest honor. “High praise.”

You smirked, watching him. He was settling in now, shoulders looser, his easy confidence creeping back in full force. He thought he had you. You could see it in the way his grin turned a little sharper, in the way he tilted his head just so, like he was already picturing how this night would play out.

Poor thing.

You lifted your drink again, letting your gaze flick just past his shoulder for the briefest moment. And there they were.

Two blonds looking straight back at you.

It was almost comical how badly they were trying — and failing — to be subtle. The darker blond had taken the bold approach, openly staring, not even pretending to hide his amusement. The lighter blond, at least, had the decency to make it look like he was half-engaged in another conversation, but the sharp interest in his eyes gave him away.

You let the corner of your mouth tug upward before shifting your attention back to Will, who still had no idea.

“You’ve got fans,” you mused, taking another sip.

Will frowned slightly, clearly thrown off by the comment. “What?”

You tilted your chin, motioning subtly behind him. “Over your shoulder.”

His brows knitted together before he turned, just enough to catch sight of Fabian and Macklin. They made no effort to look away. Macklin had the audacity to raise his glass in a lazy toast, while Fabian mouthed something that looked like ‘you’re fumbling’.

Will exhaled sharply, turning back to you, shaking his head. “Of course.”

You rested your elbow on the bar, chin propped in your hand. “They always this invested in your love life?”

Will let out a dry laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Only when they think they can embarrass me.”

“So… always?”

“Pretty much.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and maybe that was what did it. The way you looked at him right then, all playful mischief and effortless charm — it had Will reeling, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here but wasn’t about to complain.

You watched the moment Will made a choice.

The hesitation he’d shown earlier — just a flicker, just enough to amuse you — was gone. Whatever uncertainty had been there had been swallowed up by something steadier, something that almost made you forget why you’d doubted him in the first place.

He leaned in slightly, elbows on the bar, that easy smirk settling on his lips like it belonged there. “So, now that my charming personality has been thoroughly vetted,” he drawled, “are you gonna tell me what you think?”

You arched a brow. “About?”

He tilted his head, as if to say, Don’t play dumb. “Me.”

Confident. Bold. Maybe even a little cocky.

And, for the first time all night, you saw what he was really made of. The kid act was gone. This was Will choosing to stand his ground, to prove to you — to himself — that he belonged here.

You could’ve dragged this out longer, drawn out the game until it lost its shine. But you weren’t cruel, and the truth was, he’d earned a little honesty.

You let out a soft hum, tipping your glass toward him before taking a sip. Then you set it down and met his gaze, letting your smirk soften just slightly.  “How old are you really?”

Will’s brows furrowed, leaning back a little bit. “21, I told you.”

You cocked your head, dropping your voice just enough to make him sweat. “Uh-huh. So, if I asked to see your ID right now, it wouldn't say… what? Nineteen?”

Will hesitated. He knew exactly what you would find if he handed you his ID, which would be proof that Will was nineteen. It was barely a flicker — just the smallest hitch in his breath, the briefest shift in his expression — but you caught it. That hesitation was answer enough.

You leaned back and gave Will a soft smile. “Sorry, Will. You’re cute but I’m not about to get caught up with a kid.”

You slip off the stool, softly placing your hand on his shoulder — his undeniably solid shoulder — and give it a soft squeeze. You go to slip by Will, to head back to your friends, but you can feel the insistent blond hot on your heels. His hand — warm, insistent — curls around your wrist, not forcefully, but with just enough desperation to make your heart stutter.

You could have shaken him off. Could have pulled your wrist free with little more than a glance, but something in his grip — earnest, not forceful — made you pause. You turned back, brows lifted in question, and found Will staring at you with an intensity that almost made you reconsider walking away.

“I swear I’m not some dumb kid,” he says, his voice quiet but no less urgent. “I’m mature for my age.”

You can’t help but chuckle slightly. “That’s exactly what someone too young would say.” 

This doesn’t deter him. “C’mon. Give me… a game of pool,” he says, motioning to the green tables in the corner of the room. “Give me a game to show you I’m not a kid. That I’m worth your time.”

You sigh, letting your eyes flicker over him one more time. Will's confidence is unwavering, but there’s something else there too—a challenge, maybe even a plea. And damn it, you’ve always had a soft spot for reckless confidence.

“Fine,” you say, shaking your head. “One game. But if I win, you have to stop following me around like a lost puppy.”

A grin spreads across Will’s face, a little lopsided, a little cocky. “And if I win?”

You arch a brow. “You won’t.”

His grin only widens. “Guess we’ll see.”

He releases your wrist as you step toward the pool table, watching carefully as Will rolls up his sleeves,  revealing the veins that snake across his forearms. He moves to grab a cue, but you stop him with a teasing hum.

“Nuh-uh. Rack ‘em up first, kid.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his tousled blond hair. “You’re not gonna let that name go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” You pick out a cue stick, giving it a testing spin in your hand as Will racks the balls. “You play a lot?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says, sending you a glance from beneath his lashes. “But I guess you’ll have to find that out yourself.”

You snort, lining up for the break. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

“Not when I see something I want.”

You break the rack with a sharp crack, watching as the balls scatter. Two stripes drop into pockets. You straighten, catching Will’s eyes. “Looks like I get to keep shooting.”

His gaze flicks from the table to you, amusement dancing in his expression. “Guess I’m gonna have to distract you, then.”

You tilt your head, giving him a slow, assessing once-over. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Will steps closer, invading your space just enough to make your breath hitch. He leans against the table, his voice dropping into something smoother, softer. “I could start by telling you how good you look in that blue top.”

You shake your head with a smirk, considering your options on the table. “Flattery won’t change the score, Will.”

“No,” he murmurs, watching you line up your next shot. “But it might make you miss.”

Damn it. You sink the next stripe but nearly scratch in the process. Will chuckles, clearly pleased with himself, and moves around the table as you reluctantly hand over the cue ball.

“You’re trouble,” you mutter.

He smirks, bending to take his shot, his voice low and teasing. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. The game continues, and so does the banter — Will making playful jabs, you tossing them right back. He’s good, better than you expected, and when he finally sinks the eight ball with a triumphant grin, he straightens, twirling the cue between his fingers.

“Well?” he asks, stepping closer again, his blue eyes bright with mischief. “What do I win?”

You purse your lips, pretending to think before tapping a finger against his chest lightly. “You get to buy me a drink and maybe I’ll give you my time for a few more minutes.”

Will grins, pushing past the way your choice of words wasn’t completely giving in to him. He gestures toward the bar, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “You know, I’m starting to think you might actually enjoy hanging out with me, despite my 'kid' status.”

You raise an eyebrow as you follow him back toward the bar, where the neon lights cast a colorful glow across the wood surface. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Will. One game doesn’t change much.”

He laughs, low and amused, as he orders another round. You take the drink, swirling it lightly in your hand, watching the liquid catch the light. Will’s sincerity catches you off guard. He’s easy to dismiss at first glance — young, confident, and a bit cocky — but there’s more to him. You lean against the bar, giving him a sidelong glance.

The conversation takes on a different tone after that. You start asking more questions, genuinely curious about his life—his plans, his passions, the things that keep him up at night. And with each answer, you find yourself drawn in, surprised by how much you’re actually enjoying the conversation. His intelligence is sharp, his humor subtle but quick, and his determination is something you can’t help but respect.

Meanwhile, back at the pool tables where they had set up earlier to eavesdrop, Macklin and Fabian exchange looks, baffled by how long you’ve been gone and how animated your conversation with Will seems.

“You think she’s actually into him?” Fabian asks, incredulity in his voice.

Macklin shrugs, glancing back at you and Will. “Or he is way better than we think.”

The night carries on, and as the conversation with Will deepens, you find yourself captivated in ways you didn't expect. He's no longer just a cocky kid in a bar; there’s a subtle confidence in the way he speaks, a maturity beneath the surface that keeps you intrigued. The more he opens up, the more you realize there’s a depth to him, a sincerity that makes you hesitate at the thought of cutting things short.

“So,” you start, leaning in just enough to close the gap between the two of you, your tone soft but probing. “What do you really want, Will? I mean, you’ve been pretty persistent tonight.”

He doesn't hesitate, his smile morphing into something more genuine, less teasing. “I want to prove I’m not a joke. I want you to see that I’m not just some... kid with a crush.” His voice is steady, serious even, and it makes you pause for a moment. The playful edge he’s been hiding all night fades, replaced by something much more earnest.

You arch a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “So you’re not just here to win a bet or get me to give you my number?”

“No,” he answers without a hint of doubt. “I’m not playing some game. I’m serious.”

The honesty in his words makes your breath catch. You set your glass down with a soft clink, suddenly aware of how much closer you’re standing to him, the buzz of the bar fading into the background. Maybe it’s the way his breath is almost mingling with yours, or the drinks were starting to take their full effect, but you decide the night had reached its end.

“I think this is my cue.”

Will’s smile falters, but only just. “Y’don’t have to go just yet.”

You sigh, stepping back slightly. “It’s getting late. I’m sure it’s well past your bedtime anyways.”

He smirks, shaking his head, but his eyes stay locked on yours, warm and insistent. “Can I at least get your number then?”

You hesitate. Your mind races, trying to remind yourself why this is a bad idea. The age difference. The fact that he’s so damn persistent. But something in the way he looks at you, something in his voice that softens with the request, makes you give in.

You pass him your phone, feeling a strange sense of anticipation build in your chest. Will’s fingers brush yours as he takes it, and he types in his number with careful precision. He hands it back to you with a grin. “There. Now we can talk when you’re not busy pretending I’m a child.”

You snort, pocketing the phone as you turn to head for the door. Will insists on walking you outside and waiting with you for your Uber. The night air is cool, and as you wait, your conversation continues. 

Will keeps stealing glances at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he’s already picturing what it would be like to kiss you. You notice, of course you do, but you pretend not to, keeping your expression unreadable even as amusement dances behind your gaze.

The silence stretches between you, charged and heavy, until Will finally gives in with a low chuckle. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You bite back a smile, exhaling softly before shaking your head. “You’re sweet, Will,” you say, voice warm but firm. “But I think we both know that’s not the best idea.”

His lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but then he stops himself, nodding once. He doesn’t push, doesn’t whine or beg. Instead, he steps back just a fraction, his smirk returning — though this time, there’s something softer underneath. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Your Uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the dim glow of the streetlights. You reach for the door, pausing just long enough to give Will one last look. “Goodnight, Will.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Goodnight. For now.”

You shake your head, unable to hide your grin as you slip into the car. The moment the door shuts, you release a quiet breath, letting yourself relax against the seat. Your phone buzzes just as the car pulls away, and when you glance down, Will’s name lights up your screen.

Will: you know, if you ever get tired of being old, i’m happy to make you feel young again ;)

You snorted, shaking your head as you typed back.

You: bold for a baby. goodnight, will.

As you shut your phone off, you couldn't help but smile. You can’t deny it — there’s something about him that keeps pulling you back in. Despite the age gap, despite everything. You just hope you’re not making a mistake.

[sturnsbae]

SLEEPY - WILL SMITH

summary: will comes home from work to a very sleepy y/n passed out on the couch

—

within the last few days, your fatigue has been severe. you’ve fallen asleep hours before you usually do, and getting up in the mornings has become increasingly more challenging. this is a telltale sign that you’re getting sick.

will, your boyfriend of two years, has a game against calgary tonight. unfortunately, you’re far too ill to actually attend the game. of course, it broke your heart to tell your boyfriend that you wouldn’t be able to make it, but he was more than okay with you getting your rest rather than watching him chase a rubber puck for three hours.

you’re currently sat on the couch of your guys’ shared apartment while the game illuminates the dimly lit room. your eyelids become heavier as every line change occurs, but it eventually becomes too unbearable to fight. as you fall asleep, you’re cuddled into the fluffy blanket, along with being swallowed by wills boston college hoodie. you’re so knocked out, that you end up missing macklins goal during the second period, followed by everything else that happened after it.

will opens the door expecting you to be wide awake, but quickly slows his movements when he sees you sprawled out on the couch engulfed in his hoodie and a blanket. he chuckles to himself softly as he puts his hockey bag down by the door, careful not to wake you. he walks over to the couch and sits down next to you, gently moving hair out of your face.

“baby?” he quietly asks.

you stir awake and rub your eyes softly, stretching your limbs with a loud groan as you sit up. “oh, will? what time is it? i thought you should be-“ you quickly come to the realization that you had fallen asleep. “oh,” you say.

will chuckles with a grin, “yeah, you fell asleep.”

“i’m so sorry…” you mutter, fixing your hair and adjusting his hoodie.

“you’re sorry? what are you apologizing for, y/n?” will asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“missing your game. i feel awful! it’s enough that i didn’t even physically go, and then i still end up missing the entire thing!”

“y/n, please don’t apologize. honestly, you missed nothing. it was an embarrassing loss anyways.” will says, and you can hear the pain in his voice.

“oh baby i’m so sorry.” you sigh, wrapping him in a hug. he chuckles, the vibration of his laughter against your body makes you smile. despite being half asleep, he still never fails to make you happy.

“are you feeling any better?” your concerned boyfriend asks.

“i’m just still tired, i’m sure i’ll wake up sick tomorrow” you laugh, which makes him pout.

“y/n, you should really get to bed baby…” he says, making you sigh. you know he’s right, but you also wanna stay up and talk to him… but he knows you too well and immediately stops this thought. “y/n, we can talk in bed. cmon, i’ll carry you.”

he swoops you up bridal style, letting the blanket fall beneath his feet as he walks you to the bedroom. he gently places you down on the bed and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. “i’m gonna shower really quickly, but don’t stay up. go to bed, it’s okay.” you nod, but you both know you’re gonna force yourself to stay awake until he comes back. and that’s exactly what you do.

will exits the bathroom about ten minutes later and shuts off the light, crawling into bed with you. you immediately snuggle into him as his arm wraps around you, the smell of his body wash filling your senses. “how badly did you guys lose?” you ask softly.

“3-1, mack got the only goal” he replies. you smile at the thought that will and mack must’ve been so happy about it.

“tell him i say congrats, but maybe leave out the part where i fell asleep,” you joke, making will laugh. you two talk for another 5 minutes or so before you drift off into sleep again, leaving will with a smile on his face and a sleepy girlfriend on his arm.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧ʷˢ²

in which will's arm becomes your canvas in the moments you need it most.

warnings; anxiety, bullying (pre-school), BRIEF mention of parents fighting, but other than that, pure fluff. if you can think of others, please don't hesitate to let me know!

You had met Will Smith in pre-school. On the first day that you had stepped inside the classroom, you had been captivated by his blond hair and blue eyes. His hair had been neatly cut, safely tucked behind his ears, while his eyes matched perfectly with his charming smile. Even at four years old, he had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't get the chance to talk to him, however, until the winter of that school year. You had always been the anxious type, finding it hard to reach out and speak to your classmates. So, you didn't. Ultimately, that led to a group of boys catching you on the slide, alone, during recess one day. It was a typical Massachusetts day for that time of year - a white blanket of snow enveloped the state, and the ice on the ground was as smooth as glass. But in that moment, none of that had mattered. A brown-haired boy in the group had approached first, asking the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"Why don't you talk?"

Those words stung. It wasn't like you didn't want to. It just felt like your mouth was zipped shut and someone had thrown out the key to unlock it every time you tried to speak.

So, naturally, you didn't answer.

A few moments later, another boy stepped forward, "Aww, is the little baby too afraid to speak?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but it was clear that you weren't going to get out of this one easily. Despite your observation, you carefully hopped off of the slide you were perched on and turned your back to the boys as you attempted to walk away. You had only made it a few steps when you felt a hard shove from behind - one that made you fall face first onto the ground. Your face burrowed itself into the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground, the cold powder stinging your face. You tried to burrow into the safety of your heavy winter coat, but not even that worked.

You could hear the muffled laughs of the boys behind you, one shouting, "Mute freak!" and the other shouting, "Scaredy-cat!" Suddenly, however, a third voice had joined the conversation. The voice was both recognizable and unrecognizable to you, both comforting yet oddly familiar. That was enough for you to gather the strength to look up from the ground.

"Leave her alone!"

It was Will.

His neatly-trimmed blond hair had grown shaggy over time, the wisps of it curling at the nape of his neck. A white winter hat was covering the rest, but you could almost see the way it was curled at the top of his head. A flame of anger was dancing in his usually icy blue eyes, and his smile was no longer charming, only frustrated.

He shoved the two boys back, but not hard enough for them to fall to the ground. That didn’t matter, however. Will had the upper hand - he had a few inches on both of the boys, which meant that in their eyes, he towered over them. Without any other words being spoken, the two boys ran off in fear, occasionally looking back only to find Will glaring at them as he carefully walked over to you.

As he approached you, he offered a compassionate smile, one that would’ve made you feel better if your face wasn’t going numb from the snow. He grabbed your hands and helped you sit up, his gloved hands immediately going to gently brush the snow off of your face.

You flinched in surprise, but the soft material felt comforting against your rosy cheeks. He glanced at you as if to ask if it was okay for him to continue, and you nodded softly. Once he was done, he wiped his snow-covered gloves on the material of his puffy coat - no doubt one his mom made him wear - and offered a gentle hand to help you up off of the ground.

“I’m William, but I go by Will,” he smiled, his hand lingering in yours until he knew for sure that you were safely off of the ground. When he let go, your hands immediately went to fumble with the hem of your hoodie in both anxiety and relief.

You weren’t sure what, but something washed over you, and timidly yet undoubtedly, you raised your voice.

“I’m Y/N.”

And that was the first time you talked to one of your classmates. That classmate just happened to be Will Smith.

As the year went on, you and Will grew inseparable. He continued to be the only classmate you talked to, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone around you wondered why Will received your special treatment, but the truth of the matter was that he was the only one who made you feel safe. He never judged you for your anxiety, but instead welcomed it because even at four years old, he knew it was apart of you.

Later in spring, you were having a particularly bad day when Will handed you a pack of markers. He had recently turned five, a milestone you were still waiting on, and he received the package of colored ink as one of his gifts. He opened the table's cubby to reveal some coloring books, but as he placed them down, he felt your hand grab his wrist.

Without a word, you had taken the cap off of a light blue marker and began drawing a flower on his skin. Will hesitated for a moment, but when he took sight of your face, he could see the way your eyes visibly drained of worry as you traced the ink. So, naturally, he continued to let you do it.

Little did you know that that tradition would last for fourteen years.

Even at 19, the tradition of drawing on Will’s skin had become second nature, something neither of you ever questioned anymore. He constantly had markings on his skin from you, but he didn’t mind. It was a quiet way for you to find your balance in waves of emotions and for him to remind you that you were never alone.

It had been a long day for you. You had come over after a family dinner that had left your nerves frayed, your usual quietness amplified to the point that Will could tell something was wrong the second you walked in. Now, hours later, you sat on his bed, your legs cocooned into your chest as if that would provide you with any sense of comfort. Your mind was racing with more bad thoughts than good. The faint glow of “Ratatouille” illuminated the room through the screen of Will’s laptop, but neither of you seemed too interested.

Will glanced at you, catching the way your knees were pulled up to your chest, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweatshirt like they had the first time he met you. Without a word, he reached over to his desk, opened his top drawer, and grabbed the same pack of markers that had been sitting there since you were kids — the ones he had received for his 5th birthday — and held them out to you.

You glanced up at him slowly, your eyes meeting his blue ones. The flames of worry dancing in them almost matched the yellow marker you had grabbed from him. Will leaned back against his headboard, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence but not the calm.

With the marker in your hand, you forced arm down until his wrist was stretched out in your lap. You were focused, your brow furrowed in that familiar way as you worked on filling the empty space of his skin with tiny, intricate designs.

You didn’t look up, the marker stilling for only a second before continuing its careful strokes. “Just thinking,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the scratch of ink against his skin. Will sighed softly, gently grabbing your chin with his free hand to get you to look at him.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your hand pausing again. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, you looked like you might change the subject. But then you sighed and went back to drawing, your voice low, “Dreams, I guess. The future. If my parents stop fighting. If I’ll ever feel… well, less like this.”

Will didn’t need to ask what this meant. He’d been your best friend long enough to know—this was the restlessness, the anxiety, the weight you carried in moments like these. Hell, it was the weight you carried all the time. He watched as you traced another flower on his wrist, your hand steady despite the storm you clearly felt inside.

His heart broke, but he didn’t falter.

“You will,” he said simply, the steadiness in his voice making you chuckle slightly.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You make it sound easy.”

Will smiled softly, the compassion he’d always held for you radiating through him, “It’s not. But you’ll get there,” he said, leaning forward just enough so that your knees touched. “And until then, you can keep putting your dreams on me.” He tilted his head, gesturing toward the growing garden of flowers and stars you were creating.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the room. It was the first time Will had heard you laugh all day, “Dreams?“

Will shook his head, his grin small but sincere, “These are the outlines of what’s in your head, Y/N/N — your dreams, your worries, all of it. You’ve been doing it since we were five years old.”

You laughed, your eyes meeting his again, “But what makes you think they’re my dreams?”

“They constantly change,” he explained, a wisp of his blond curls falling in front of his eyes. He looked exactly like the four year old you had met on the playground that winter day. “When we were six, you drew rocket ships because all you wanted was to be an astronaut. And when we were 11, I constantly had drawings of cats and dogs on my wrists because you wanted to be a veterinarian. And last year, you drew the Boston College logo over and over again because you wanted me to be happy at B.C.”

“And what about my worries?”

“They remain more steady, but I don’t mind carrying them for awhile,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your marker stilled, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your chest feeling a little lighter in a way only Will could manage. Then, with a soft smile, you added one last detail to the sunflower you’d been working on—a tiny heart at the center.

“You’re so corny,” you said, placing his arm back in his lap.

Will smirked, lifting it to admire your work, “And you’re the one who just drew a heart. Who’s corny now?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. You tucked your legs under you, leaning back against the headboard beside him. He might’ve been corny, but he meant more to you than you could ever know,“You’ll always be my favorite sketchbook, you know.”

Will nudged your shoulder lightly, the marker still in his other hand, “And you’ll always be a flower on my skin.”

Neither of you said anything else after that, the room settling into a comfortable silence. But the outlines of your dreams stayed etched on Will’s arm, just like they always would.

a/n; this might be one of my favorite works that i’ve ever written. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did!

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? – ws2

will gets possessive (jealous) when seeing you with other guys.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 760

warnings: mentions of alcohol

author's note: been in SUCH a will mood recently, it's not even funny. he's just so !!!! it's not my fault actually :( anyways have this little blurb, hope u enjoy <3

will hates this.

he doesn't hate parties per se, just this specific one. he does think the party is good; the music is great, a lot of his friends are here, not too calm yet not too crazy. but he hates it mainly because no matter what he does, what room of the apartment he moves into or what classmate he chats to, he always ends up catching you in the corner of his eye.

looking at you is definitely not something will dislikes – on the contrary, he could spend the rest of his life staring at you without feeling bored for even a second. that's how beautiful you are to him.

but seeing you get flirted with and seeing people exploit the fact that you've had more than your share of the drinks table? he hates that.

he tries to handle it by moving along, finding new groups to join and new subjects to talk about to get his mind off you. cool, the school's football team won yesterday; oh yeah, that physics professor seems insane; did you watch that new movie?

it works for a while, but he eventually finds his eyes wandering off to you in every room. you're just that radiant, attracting his attention without even trying. that fact is something he's okay with, and he supposed he'll just have to get used to seeing you with other guys every once in a while, even if it's terribly painful.

but when that stupid football jock you've been talking to for the last fifteen minutes places his hand on your ass as he leans in to whisper in your ear – has he no shame? will asks himself – will has had enough.

in just a few quick strides, he has made it over to you, and his left arm drapes across your shoulders instantly. "there you are, baby," he says, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. "been looking all over for you."

the guy takes a step back instinctively, his eyes narrowing at the sight. it takes a moment for you to realize what's happening, but when your head turns toward will, your entire face lights up. "william!" you exclaim, arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in for a hug. he flinches at the full name – you're even drunker than he thought – but he relaxes once you're in his arms instead of that guy's.

"who are you?"

will looks back to the man you were talking to earlier. "oh, shit- i'm sorry, rude of me not to introduce myself." he holds out his right hand, his other one falling down your waist. "i'm will. nice to meet you, man."

the other guy reluctantly shakes will's hand, frowning slightly. "you two a thing or something?"

will leans the side of his head against the top of yours. "girlfriend and boyfriend for almost two years now."

your eyes widen at this, jaw dropping with a gasp. "boyfriend?" you ask. "you're my boyfriend?"

he chuckles, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels, but nods. "i think you-" he accentuates the word with a tap to your nose. "-have had a little too much to drink if you don't remember me."

the other guy leaves the scene looking a little nauseous, and will can finally relax a little. you, however, seem to not notice anything going on around you, still focused on his touch on your nose several moments later. "too much? no, i'm not even tipsy..."

"sure you aren't." will's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it as he starts walking out of the room. "come on, let's go back to the dorm."

"what dorm?" you ask, yet you reluctantly walk after him.

"your dorm."

once you reach the front door, he rummages through the millions of coats hanging on the wall before finding yours. he hangs it over your shoulders, trying his best to ignore the pout on your lips. "i wasn't done in there." you tilt your head to the side. "why are you forcing me out?"

"i'm taking care of you," he corrects.

"same thing." he lets go of your hand and your eyes follow his movements when he puts on his own jacket, already missing his warmth on your skin. "why?"

he shrugs. "boyfriend duties, i guess."

you step out into the cold together, and the fresh air helps you begin to come to your senses. yet, you find yourself mumbling, "if you're actually my boyfriend, you should kiss me. on the lips."

oh, how badly he wishes he could.

"another time, baby."

[777bae]

MORE THAN WORDS WILL SMITH

Summary :: After overhearing harsh comments about your age gap with Will, doubt creeps in. But Will reassures you with love and understanding, reminding you that others’ opinions don’t matter. In his arms, you find comfort and certainty. (REQUESTED :: prompt 28)

Warnings :: age gap (reader is older), insecurity within a relationship, kissing

Word count :: 3.8k

The room is bathed in soft shadows, the only illumination coming from the city lights filtering through the thin gaps in the curtains. Faint streaks of gold and white carve patterns across the walls, shifting ever so slightly as the night passes. The steady hum of the air conditioning fills the silence, a low, rhythmic whisper that should be soothing, should be enough to lull you to sleep. It’s constant, unchanging—so unlike the restless energy swirling in your mind.

Will lies beside you, his body warm against the cool sheets, his breathing slow and even. He fell asleep easily—he always does. There’s something effortless about the way he settles, the way his body sinks into relaxation the moment his head touches the pillow. You envy that about him. It’s not just sleep; it’s him. His quiet confidence, the way he moves through life so sure of himself, so unwavering in his choices. You’ve always admired that. He never second-guesses. He never hesitates.

You wish you could say the same.

You shift onto your side, the fabric of the sheets slipping against your skin as you press your cheek into the pillow. The mattress dips slightly under your weight, but Will doesn’t stir. He’s deep in sleep, lost in a place you can’t seem to reach. You exhale slowly, willing your body to relax, willing your mind to quiet.

But it doesn’t. It won’t.

Because every time you close your eyes, you hear it again.

“I mean, he could literally have anyone, and he’s dating… her?”

“It’s kinda weird, right? Like, she’s older. Not by a lot, but still.”

“I don’t get it, man. If I was Will, I’d be aiming younger, not up.”

The words hit like an echo, circling your mind, growing louder each time they repeat. They were thrown around so casually, spoken without thought, tossed into the air like meaningless locker room banter. But to you, they weren’t meaningless.

Because you heard them.

And now, you couldn’t un-hear them.

Your stomach twists, a dull ache settling in your chest. You try to tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. That those guys—teammates, but not friends—don’t know Will the way you do. That their opinions hold no weight.

But knowing that doesn’t stop the doubt from creeping in.

The worst part is that you hadn’t even meant to overhear. You weren’t eavesdropping, weren’t searching for something to hurt you. You had simply been walking by, on your way to meet Will after practice, when their voices had carried through the open door of the locker room.

You hadn’t even realized they were talking about you at first.

Not until you heard your name.

And by then, it was too late.

The words had already latched onto something vulnerable inside you, burrowing deep, spreading like cracks through glass. They weren’t meant for your ears, but that didn’t make them any less sharp, any less capable of cutting.

You knew Mack and Will’s close friends—his real friends—only ever teased him about the age difference in good fun. It was just banter, the kind that never carried weight, the kind that came with easy grins and exaggerated eye rolls. Mack would nudge Will in the ribs, throw out a “Man, you always did have a thing for older women, huh?” and Will would just shake his head, amused but unbothered. It was lighthearted. It was harmless.

But those other teammates—the ones who weren’t part of his tight-knit circle, the ones who didn’t really know him? They meant it.

There was something different in their tone, something that wasn’t just playful teasing but quiet judgment. Their words weren’t delivered with smirks and laughter. They weren’t meant as jokes. They were whispered, muttered under their breath, exchanged in passing like an unspoken agreement.

They thought it was weird.

They thought you were wrong for him.

And maybe they were right.

The thought sends a fresh wave of unease through you, a dull, sinking feeling settling in your stomach. You shift again, rolling onto your other side, trying—begging—for sleep to take over. But no matter how much you twist and turn, no matter how many times you adjust your pillow, your body refuses to relax.

Your muscles are tense, your jaw tight, your mind running in circles you can’t seem to break free from.

You press your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself to sleep, willing your mind to quiet.

It doesn’t work.

Because the moment your eyes close, their voices creep in again. The words replay over and over, looping like a broken record, refusing to fade.

And with every repetition, they feel less like a cruel, offhanded remark and more like the truth.

A sigh comes from beside you, soft but weighted, followed by the faint rustling of sheets as Will shifts. The warmth of his body inches closer, heat radiating through the space between you. Then, his fingers find you in the dark, skimming up your arm in a slow, unhurried path before settling on your shoulder. His touch is warm, grounding, the kind of effortless intimacy that comes with knowing someone deeply.

“You've been tossing and turning for the last 40 minutes.” His voice is thick with sleep, rough around the edges, but there’s an undeniable awareness in it. Even half-asleep, he’s tuned into you. “What’s up?”

Your body stiffens, only slightly, but it’s enough for him to notice. You force yourself to relax, to loosen your shoulders, to school your expression into something neutral. It’s second nature—the instinct to deflect, to downplay, to tuck your emotions away where they won’t be seen.

“Nothing.”

The lie comes easily, practiced and quiet. You keep your voice steady, hoping he’s too tired to push, that he’ll be content with a half-answer, too drowsy to care.

You feel him hesitate, just for a second. Then his hand moves, his thumb beginning to trace absentminded patterns over your skin—slow, rhythmic, comforting. The motion is gentle, lulling, but you know him too well to think he’s going to let this go.

“Try again.”

His voice is still soft, still carrying the remnants of sleep, but there’s something else in it now—something patient but firm. A quiet insistence.

You inhale deeply, slowly, through your nose. Hold. Then exhale just as carefully, as if controlling your breathing will somehow control the storm in your mind.

You don’t answer.

Silence settles between you, stretching into the space where words should be.

For a brief moment, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll let it go.

Maybe he’ll be too tired to keep asking. Maybe he’ll assume it’s nothing and fall back asleep. Maybe you can bury it down, deep enough that even you won’t feel it anymore.

But then he shifts closer, the warmth of him seeping into you, his presence impossible to ignore. His arm drapes over your waist, effortlessly pulling you against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressing into your back. Then, his lips brush against your shoulder—soft, familiar, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

Slowly, he trails upward, the heat of his mouth barely skimming your skin, a featherlight touch against the curve of your neck. It’s gentle, almost absentminded, but it sends a shiver through you anyway.

“You’re overthinking something,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep but laced with quiet certainty. He’s awake now—really awake, his focus entirely on you.

You swallow against the tightness in your throat, keeping your eyes shut, as if that might be enough to shield you from him. “I’m fine, Will,” you say softly. “Just restless.”

A beat of silence. Then—

He hums, low and unconvinced. “Liar.”

A quiet, breathy laugh escapes you, but there’s no real humor in it. It’s just a reflex, an automatic reaction to his teasing, but the weight in your chest doesn’t lighten. If anything, it settles deeper.

You shift, rolling onto your back, putting just enough space between you that his arm slides from your waist. His fingers skim over your side before they still, his touch lingering even in absence. You blink up at the ceiling, letting your gaze blur, as if the faint patterns of light filtering through the curtains might offer an answer.

Will props himself up slightly, watching you. You can feel it—the way his attention lingers, the way his presence is unwavering, waiting.

“Go to sleep,” you whisper again, quieter this time.

His response is immediate, effortless. “You first.”

His voice is steady, calm, but there’s something playful in it, like he already knows you won’t be able to.

You exhale sharply through your nose, willing your body to relax, willing your mind to cooperate. You squeeze your eyes shut again, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body beside you, the gentle weight of his fingers still resting against your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you think maybe—maybe—you can do it. Maybe you can push it away, bury it deep enough that it won’t reach you tonight.

But then—

“Weird, right?”

“If I was Will, I’d be aiming younger, not up.”

The words slam into you all over again, unshakable, unavoidable.

Your jaw tightens.

Will shifts beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and then you feel it—his body turning toward you, the warmth of him closing the space between you. His elbow presses into the bed as he props himself up, his presence unmistakable, his attention now fully on you.

You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s watching you. You can feel it in the way the air changes, in the quiet focus of his presence, in the way his breathing has slowed, tuned in to you completely.

“Come on, babe,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, coaxing but steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitate.

The words are there, resting on the tip of your tongue, heavy and insistent, begging to be spoken. But you bite them back, pressing them down, trying to convince yourself that they don’t matter, that saying them out loud won’t make them real.

You swallow. “It’s nothing,” you say, too quickly, too automatically.

Will doesn’t move, doesn’t react right away, but you know he doesn’t believe you. He’s too perceptive, too attuned to you, to ever let something like that slip by.

“If it was nothing,” he says, his voice still gentle, patient, knowing, “you’d be asleep by now.”

You inhale sharply, your chest rising and falling with the weight of it, but you don’t respond. You just stare up at the ceiling, unblinking, as if it might somehow give you something to hold onto, some kind of anchor to keep you from slipping further into your thoughts.

Will waits. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t demand anything from you. But he’s there, and he’s not letting this go.

His fingers move, slow and deliberate, trailing lightly down your arm. The sensation is soft, grounding, a quiet reassurance that he’s here, that he’s with you, that you don’t have to hold this weight alone.

He gives you space, but not distance.

And somehow, that makes it harder to keep the words locked inside.

Finally, you crack.

The weight of it has been pressing down on you all night, refusing to let you breathe, refusing to let you sleep, and now, with Will beside you, warm and steady and waiting—you can’t keep it in anymore.

“I overheard some of your teammates talking,” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Will stills beside you. His body tenses, just the slightest bit, but you feel it—how his relaxed posture shifts, how his breathing changes. It’s subtle, but it’s there. His hand, still resting lightly against your arm, stills completely.

“What’d they say?”

His voice is calm, but there’s something underneath it now, something restrained. He’s not pushing, not demanding, but you can hear it—the quiet, controlled edge that wasn’t there before.

You hesitate.

The words are right there, sitting at the back of your throat, but saying them means admitting that they got to you. That their careless, offhanded remarks sank their claws into you, that they dug in so deep you let them fester.

You swallow, forcing the lump in your throat down. Then, in a voice so small you barely recognize it as your own, you say—

“That you could do better.”

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence. The kind that stretches long enough to make your chest ache.

Then—Will moves.

Slowly, his hand slides down your arm, his fingers brushing over your skin before they tangle with yours. His grip is firm but not tight, like he’s making sure you feel him, making sure you know he’s here, solid and real and with you.

“Better how?”

His voice is steady—too steady. Measured, deliberate. He already knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it.

You stare at the ceiling, your vision blurring slightly as you try to find the words, even though you already know them, even though they’ve been repeating in your head all night.

You take a slow, careful breath before you whisper, “Younger.”

The word tastes bitter, like something you shouldn’t have said aloud.

You force yourself to keep going, even though every part of you wants to stop. “That it’s weird,” you continue, your voice barely above a breath. “That if you had options, they don’t get why you’d choose… me.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you regret them.

Saying them makes them real.

And for a brief, terrifying second, you worry—what if he agrees? What if this is the moment he realizes they’re right?

But then—

Will moves again, shifting beside you, and before you can process it, he’s sitting up fully, his back pressing against the headboard. His grip on your hand tightens slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure you don’t pull away. Just enough to make sure you don’t retreat into yourself again.

“Okay, first of all?” Will says, his tone growing exasperated as he shakes his head slightly. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your breath hitches, the words lodging themselves somewhere deep in your chest, tight and painful. You didn’t expect him to react like this. You didn’t expect him to—snap—but his response is swift and sure, and it makes your heart thud harder in your chest.

“Will—”

You don’t know what you’re going to say, what you can even say to make this better. But you’re cut off before you can find the words.

“No, listen to me,” he interrupts, his voice firm, resolute, not leaving any room for doubt. His gaze is steady, never wavering, locking with yours with an intensity that shakes you. “I’m an adult. I make my own decisions.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, reverberating in your chest. There’s something about the way he says it like he’s not just telling you, but also reminding himself. You don’t doubt his conviction. You never have. But something about hearing him say it like this—the absolute certainty in his voice—makes you exhale in a way you hadn’t been able to all night.

“And being with you?” He leans in just slightly, his voice softer now, filled with a kind of quiet intensity. “That’s not just my decision—it’s the best one I’ve ever made.”

You blink, and for a second, nothing comes out. His words hover between you, heavy and warm. You want to say something, anything, but your throat tightens, choking back whatever emotions have been swelling in you all this time.

His hand reaches out, and it’s gentle, but insistent. He cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek, the touch tender and sure. His fingers are warm, grounding, as if trying to steady you with just a touch. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t care what they think,” he continues, his voice low, almost reverent. “They don’t know me. Not really. Not like Mack and the guys do. And they definitely don’t know us.”

You feel the truth in his words. The people who are on the outside, the ones who haven’t seen you together, who don’t understand what it’s like to be with him, what it feels like to have him with you, they don’t get it. They never will. But the thought of what they said—their dismissal of you, of him—it still lingers.

His hand moves again, his thumb sweeping over your skin in soft circles. It’s reassuring, even though there’s a weight to the moment that doesn’t go away. His presence is unshakable, like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

“You think I don’t hear the jokes?” Will continues, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that almost resembles a smile. “You think Mack doesn’t give me hell about it every chance he gets?” He shakes his head slowly, an affectionate but knowing smirk crossing his lips. “But you know what the difference is? He’s just messing with me.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, quiet and disbelieving, because you know this to be true. Mack’s teasing is never meant to hurt, but to play. You’ve heard it before. But the others—the ones who weren’t close to Will—they didn’t have the same warmth behind their words. Their remarks felt cold, careless, like something they couldn’t take back.

“Because he knows it doesn’t matter,” Will continues, his voice steady now, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because he knows that I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in like the promise they are. They slip past the cracks in your guard and settle deep, anchoring themselves in your heart. It’s the way he says it—like it’s the only thing that matters, like there’s nothing else to say.

“I love you,” he repeats, softer this time, quieter, like he’s reminding you of the only truth that matters. It’s like he’s speaking it directly into the space between you, as if to fill every doubt, every worry, every insecurity with his certainty.

His hand shifts from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. His forehead rests against yours, the gentle pressure grounding you as his breath mingles with yours. It’s intimate, vulnerable, and you feel the weight of everything he’s said in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, pushing away the doubts and the questions that had been circling endlessly in your mind. For the first time all night, everything feels like it’s in its right place. Will doesn’t care about the opinions of others. All that matters is what the two of you share, what the two of you have chosen.

“I love you,” he whispers again, his voice barely more than a breath, but it fills the space between you with a warmth that makes everything else fade into the background. His lips brush against yours, soft and lingering, like the kiss itself is a promise, a quiet reassurance that nothing has changed.

The kiss isn’t hurried or desperate. It’s gentle, almost reverent, like he’s savoring the moment, making sure you feel every ounce of his affection in the tender press of his lips. And as he pulls away just slightly, his breath warm against your skin, you can feel his love more deeply than the words alone could ever express. It’s in the way his fingers, still cradling your neck, gently tug you closer, bringing you into his embrace as if he’s never going to let go.

For a brief moment, you close your eyes and let everything fall away. The doubts. The questions. The words from earlier that had burned their way into your thoughts. All of it slips away as the rhythm of his heartbeat syncs with yours, a steady, calming reminder that you’re here, in this moment, together.

You’re not thinking about what the other people said anymore, not even about the way their words had sliced through your confidence and planted seeds of insecurity in your heart. You’re not thinking about the age difference, or whether it matters. All of that feels so distant now, almost irrelevant, because in this space, with Will, you are simply you. And he is him. And there is no question about whether this is right. It is.

His hand slides down your back, his fingers warm against your skin as he pulls you in even closer, pressing his body against yours in a way that makes your heart skip. It’s a subtle movement, but the weight of his touch, the way he’s holding you like you’re the only thing that matters, makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“I don’t need anyone else to tell me what I feel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple, his voice low and unwavering. “You’re everything to me. And that’s enough.”

And in that moment, you realize he’s right. He doesn’t need anyone’s approval. Neither of you do. His love, his choice to be with you, his certainty—it’s more than enough. It’s everything.

You open your eyes again, and when you meet his gaze, you see that same unwavering certainty reflected back at you. His eyes are soft, but there’s a depth to them that makes your heart swell. It’s as if he’s saying everything without speaking—I chose you, and I will always choose you.

Without a word, you lean in again, this time with more urgency, a quiet desperation that only comes when you realize just how much you need someone. Your lips find his again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, more consuming. It’s as if you’re both trying to prove something to each other, to make sure the other knows, without a doubt, that this love is real, and it’s yours.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as though he’s trying to erase the space between you. And for a moment, you lose yourself in the warmth of him, in the certainty of his touch, in the weight of his love.

When you finally pull away, your breath is shaky, your chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the kiss. But there’s no hesitation, no doubt, no lingering insecurity. There’s only him. There’s only the two of you.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice a little rougher now, but the sincerity is still there, still clear, still strong.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice barely more than a breath, but it’s enough.

And in that moment, you know. You know that nothing else matters. The outside world can say whatever it wants, can whisper its judgments or misunderstandings. But the only thing that matters is the two of you, here, together, in this space. His love for you, your love for him, and the life you’re building together.

That’s all that matters.

[peachhcs]

plz write a cute celebrini x fem reader 🙏🙏 ur writing is beyond amazing

oooh i've never written specifically for mack before so hopefully this isn't bad 😅

after mack’s face injury, his gf is quick to look after him once the game is done

masterlist

she waited impatiently near the doors of the locker room awaiting her boyfriend's arrival. y/n's mind couldn't stop replaying the horror on her features and everyone else's when they saw the blood trickle down macklin's face after a nasty high stick hit. she knew he was okay because he was right back on the ice once the bleeding stopped, but the image wouldn't shake the girl's brain.

lingering after the game felt so long this time around and y/n wondered if it was just because she was anxious about seeing her boyfriend and properly checking up on him. she swiped through twitter and instagram continuously while video replays of the rookie's hit filled her feeds. she just shut her phone off all together for now, not being able to watch the play anymore.

finally, the players began trickling out. y/n's head popped up, searching for the eyes of macklin in the crowd. she spotted him with will near the middle of the pack and he immediately found her gaze. will sensed that they probably wanted to talk, so he split off from the boy once they got closer, giving a small nod to y/n as he passed.

"hey," macklin began, but was caught off guard when y/n jumped into his arms.

"let me see it," she grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face to the side to examine the new scar.

"it's really not that bad now. they cleared it up really good," the brunette tried reassuring his girlfriend knowing she probably had a hundred thoughts running through her.

"you scared the shit out of me when i saw all that blood. it looked a lot worse," y/n stepped back, arms crossing over her chest.

macklin frowned at the sudden distance between them, "i'm sorry, baby. i promise i'm fine. see?" he gave his best grin hoping to further prove how he was doing.

"well, if i see wilson, i'm gonna punch him myself," y/n huffed, looking around like she would catch the older player lingering somewhere.

macklin laughed, tugging y/n into his side and kissing the side of her head, "you're so cute when you're upset. i promise i'm fine though. i mean you saw me play afterwards."

"yeah you fucking power played. i guess that was your redemption," the two exchanged a laugh and macklin enjoyed finally pulling a smile from her.

"can i come back to your place tonight?" the boy wondered as they moved themselves closer to the exit.

"i thought that was a given already," y/n chuckled.

macklin went to tell will they were leaving before rushing out of the SAP center so he wouldn't have to do any press. most days he didn't mind, but tonight the boy was itching to get out of there and spend some much needed time with his girl. they hadn't seen each other since last weekend—school and hockey keeping them way too busy.

"just so you know, i am gonna baby you the whole night," y/n informed once they were securely in her car.

"mm, i can't wait. a face mask is just calling my name," the hockey player leaned back in the passenger seat, hand falling to the girl's lap as she pulled out of the parking lot.

luckily, there was no early morning practice tomorrow, so macklin was gonna use that to his full advantage and spend the night in y/n's dorm. the couple rode in comfortable silence into santa clara university, a convenient 7 minutes away from the arena so y/n never missed a home game.

she parked her car again and the couple hurried into her building. the few students wandering around the lobby caught sight of macklin's suit he put back on, a few of them recognizing him from as a sharks player and as y/n's boyfriend because he was over so much.

they lucked out with y/n's roommate hanging out with her own boyfriend tonight, so they had the whole dorm to themselves. macklin immediately thew his backpack onto the ground and shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders.

"gonna shower. i didn't really before we left. you're welcome to join me if you want," the brunette winked at the girl who flushed.

"wow, so classy of you. i did already shower this morning, so i'll have to pass this time," y/n laughed.

"damn, i thought you'd say yes. you sure you don't wanna shower again?" he winked again. y/n groaned, pushing her boyfriend to the bathroom.

"i'll be out here with your face mask."

the rookie accepted his lonely shower fate and disappeared into the bathroom. y/n took the opportunity to tidy up the room and get all the things she needed for their face masks.

20 minutes later, macklin came back out of the bathroom freshly showered and in more comfortable clothes. y/n hung up his suit jacket on the door of her closet, instructing him to do the same with the rest of the outfit so it wouldn't wrinkle.

the boy climbed into her bed a second later, positioning himself against her pillows, "i'm readyy," he sang.

"i've never known you to be so excited for a face mask," y/n grinned.

"it really makes my skin smooth, so i like it," the boy explained.

y/n handed mack her headband so his hair wouldn't be in his face or in the mask. he didn't hesitate to slip it over his head and expose his forehead. the girl giggled at the sight.

"are you laughing at my big forehead?" the boy raised his eyebrow, hands finding places on y/n's hips as she straddled his waist.

"maybe," she hummed, leaning forward to begin rubbing the cream on his skin.

mack admired her focused expression while just really taking the time to take in every part of her as she applied the mask. this was his favorite part of face masks because he could stare at her without shame and she hardly noticed because she was too focused on the mask.

"have i told you how beautiful you are?" the brunette wondered softly. he watched the way y/n's cheeks heated up into a deep blush.

"you have," she muttered.

"well, i'm gonna say it again. you're really beautiful," mack grinned.

"you're sappy tonight," y/n flushed.

"what? can i not say how beautiful my girlfriend is?"

"no, you can. thank you," she finished spreading the mask, leaning back to admire her work.

"how's it look?"

"great. i'lll let you know when five minutes are up," the girl set a timer on her phone and then mack grabbed the mask cream from her hands before she could set it back on the dresser.

she looked at her boyfriend quizzically.

"can i do yours?" he wondered with a soft expression.

y/n blushed again, "just don't get it in my hair."

"promise, i won't," macklin agreed and y/n let him have at it.

his touch was gentle as his fingers began rubbing around her skin. his lip poked out from his lips as he focused on doing it right. y/n loved how much he wanted to do it correctly for her sake and his expression really was just to die for.

"okay, did it," macklin leaned back to admire his work the same way y/n did. she loved the proud little smile on his lips, pulling her camera up to examine how well he did.

"wow, looks great, mack. your best one yet," y/n agreed.

"what can i say? practice makes perfect," the boy hummed, placing everything back onto her dresser.

"so how's your lip doing now?" y/n wondered as mack's hands wandered across the expanse of her hips and waist.

"i can't even feel it anymore, so good. i told you i'm fine," he eyed her.

"i know, just let me be a worry wart."

the sharks player smiled at her words knowing how much she liked to worry about things, especially the things that didn't need to be worried about. he reached up to quickly peck her lips, tryng to avoid getting face mask on one another.

"i love you," the brunette said.

y/n's smile grew, the whole i love you still new to them but heartwarming to hear, "i love you, too," she kissed him again and now they didn't care about getting face mask on one another.

[toplurker]

TWO HANDS

reader x macklin celebrini

where you just can’t get enough, and one hand isn’t enough.

cw: p in v (protected!!!! wrap it before u tap it .) needy!reader, tad bit of dom!mack, cockwarming, cursing, nsfw!!

inspired by ;

✧˚ · . . · ˚ ✧

macklins jaw is slack, his eyes hooded, focused on where your bodies connect. he’s in pure bliss as his hands grip onto you tightly, your hips meeting each others at a fast pace. quiet grunts can be heard from macklin, while your a mess of soft moans. as he speeds up the pace, small whimpers begin to escape him. sweat glistens his body and you can see every muscle contract, and he looks as if he’s been hand sculpted perfectly. his lips are pink and plush from the continuous contact, whether it be with your lips or your skin. both of your chests rise and fall with heavy fast breaths in sync, and you seek shelter in the crook of his neck.

you feel him start to part your legs even further, his hands moving down to your ass, your chests becoming closer and closer. he starts to hit new places in you, his head smashing against your cervix over and over, and the feeling is unexplainable, pain mixing with the pleasure to become a fuzzy haze. “macklin,” you whine out, forehead resting on his collarbone.

his hands tighten on your ass at this, and you feel him twitch inside of you. “hmm,” he says, sounding husky. he’s in awe as he stares down at him slamming into you, and your not even sure he really registered what you said.

your nails run down his back and he hisses a little. you let out a loud whine in his neck, your eyes rolling back. “holy,” he manages out, sounding almost choked. you feel his hands move from your body to on either side of your body, supporting himself up, and at the loss of contact you whimper. “mm mm,” you say, shaking your head.

he slowed down slightly, moving his face to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “hmmm?” he grunts out, his eyes on you. “back,” you muster our, his dick messing with your brain, him fucking you dumb. he looks confused, and you know you have to explain more. “put them back,” you say, exhaling sharply. he looks confused before realizing what you mean, and a small smirk appears on his face.

“needed to feel me more, huh?” he asks, pride coating his voice. you nod frantically, a soft moan leaving your lips. his one hand moves to your hip, holding onto you tightly, his weight leaning on his supporting arm. your grateful for his touch, but you need more. “mack,” you breathe out, a frustrated moan coating your voice. “both,”

he chuckles a little, adjusting his position to support his weight on himself instead of on your small frame, both hands squeezing your hips with tight pressure. “need two hands on you, don’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “mhmh,” you nod, whining a little. “m’close,” you manage our, your hands clenching the sheets below you.

“me too,” he whispers, nodding. his pace speeds up, his hips snapping into you, his tip constantly kissing your cervix. you feel his actions start to become more erratic but at the same time sloppy, and your thighs start to shake. “oh- oh fuck!” you cry out, feeling the band in your stomach snap. you come long and hard, a scream leaving your mouth, and before you know it, macklin is coming too. you squeeze and convulse him you, riding your high but at the same time milking him dry as he fills the condom. your both a mess of lewd noises, groans and whimpers filling the room along with your skin meeting.

your actions slow before he collapses ontop of you, both of you breathless. you can feel him twitch a little inside of you. he rests on top of you before carefully lifting himself off, his lips as if he were whistling but breathing out air. “just quickly,” he says, and swiftly pulls out, causing a whimper to escape you, your hands flying to his chest as he pulls the full condom off himself and throwing it in the nearby trash. “need you,” you say, and you meet his eyes, his head tilting slightly.

“please,” you say, and he understand what you mean, you need him back in you. “are you sure?” he ask quietly, a little unsure. you nod, meeting his eyes, your hands moving to his shoulders. he aligns himself with your hole before slowly pushing himself in, causing you to whine, and him to breath out sharply. “shit,” he says lowly, eyes briefly closing. your walls stretch around him, him hitting your cervix once again. you both catch your breath before he carefully moves behind you, spooning you as you both rest in the bed.

his arms wrap around your torso, and one of your hands moves ontop of his. your other hand gently reaches backwards to stroke his teeth before moving ontop of the arm pile. he gently kisses your bare shoulder before resting his chin on it, exhaling shakily. the warmth he provides leaves you feeling relaxed, filling that void and not leaving you feeling empty. you feel your breaths sync, both tired after what’s just been done.

you feel one of his hands shift, moving to rest by his head, and you turn your head around slowly, a joking glare on your face. “jeez, two hands only, huh?” he asks, and you smile softly, nodding. “always,” you add, turning around. at this he laughs a little, kissing your jawline before relaxing again.

“needy,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips pressed into your shoulder.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

hi guys!!! i took a big long break (extremely sorry) it was not planned, but schoolwork, life, sports, and medical issues caught up to me 😿

i hope to write more and am trying my best!!!! please send in reqs or just yaps!!!

[writingonleaves]

wrap your arms around me, baby boy - will smith

pairing: will smith x original female character

warnings: swearing, probably the most dialogue in a piece i've ever had, mention of marijuana , boston college (as a boston university alum this is a valid warning❤️), niche massachusetts references, fluff fluff fluff

inspired by + title: paper rings by taylor swift

word count: 5.5k

author's note: hi!! tried not to overthink this one too much because i've been in a writing rut lately and this turned out longer than i expected. i also usually try not to write about the kids or anyone younger than me but i feel like this song fit our fave lexington shark boy and i had fun exploring a college relationship like this. this is for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy's eras tour fic challenge!! i hope you all enjoy it and lmk what you think!

october 2023

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day.” 

Danielle Layden doesn’t even look up from her notes, unimpressed. “Sure, dude.”

“I’m serious,” She sighs, before putting her pen down and looking up at Will Smith, who’s continuing like he’s just asking her about the homework, which he did about three minutes prior. “You don’t think so?

She blinks, making sure that the professor isn’t in the lecture hall yet. “Will, I met you, like, three weeks ago, while you and your friends were high off your asses, mind you, and you don’t know how to write a proposal.”

“You have something against marijuana and bad writers?”

She rolls her eyes as he laughs. “We have a quiz in 5 minutes. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Well, seat partner, I don’t think I do,” he says smugly. 

“We are not seat partners,” she drawls out, taking a sip from the coffee that he brought her when he came in, toothy smile making her unable to be 100% annoyed with him. She doesn’t wanna overthink about the fact that it’s her exact order too, because he shouldn’t know that.

“I think we are,” he sings. “Are you coming to the game later?”

“What game?”

Will snorts. “Yeah, nice try. I know you stalked me on the internet after we met. I also talk about hockey all the time.”

“I don’t know what hockey is. Explain it to me again?”

“Smartass,” he mutters as a smile seeps through Danielle’s lips. “So are you coming?”

“Should I?”

“I think so.”

The professor claps his hands and he’s still looking at her, waiting for an answer. She just shrugs. She’ll leave him on his toes. 

The next week, as Danielle’s been learning to expect now, Will slips in the seat right next to her, sliding over her coffee. 

“How do you know my order?”

At the same time, he asks. “What did you think of the game?”

She blinks. “What if I didn’t go?”

“Dani,” he deadpans. “I know you went. I saw you in the crowd.”

“You saw me in the sold out crowd?” She eyes him warily. “I highly doubt it.”

“Evie told me where you guys were sitting beforehand.”

“Evie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“What did you think of the game?” He repeats with insistence. 

She bites her lip. “You got a goal.”

“I did.”

“It was fun.”

He lights up like a puppy and she can’t help but melt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nudges his shoulder. “You’re pretty good at this hockey thing. Better than you are at writing proposals.”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.”

“Cocky,” Danielle observes. 

“Just like you are about writing proposals.”

She switches the subject. “How do you know what my coffee order is?”

“You told me.”

She tilts her head to the side. “When?”

“The night we met.”

“When you were high off your ass?”

“Quiet down,” he scolds playfully. “I am an athlete, you know? Gotta keep up that pristine image.”

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Pristine image? Okay, dude.” 

“Hey, actually, before Langley comes in, I wanted to ask you something.” 

That gets her attention, as she turns fully towards him. “What’s up?” 

“Okay, so, you can say no,” Will starts, which, hilarious way to begin. She tries to hide her amused smile as he continues. “Would you mind looking over my midterm paper? I know you have all your own stuff to do so I totally get it. It’s just, it’s obvious you’re the best writer in this class and I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes like yours.”

A few seconds of silence pass by before Danielle smiles genuinely. “You don’t have to beg, Will. I’ll look over your paper. You only talk to me though. You don’t know that I’m the best writer in this class.”

“I think I do.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she deadpans.

He smirks, sliding his phone over. “Put in your number and we’ll find a time?”

She types her number in and texts herself, “I think you just wanna find an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“Busted. I did say I’m gonna marry you one day.”

“Let’s see what you get on your midterm first.”

november 2023

“Hey”

Danielle looks up from her books at the familiar voice, a bit disjointed because she’s not sitting in Fulton Hall but instead at the library. She takes her headphones out and tilts her head to the side at Will and two other guys right next to him. “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

She starts clearing her stuff from the table, “As long as you’re not annoying.” She puts on a warm smile. “Hi. I’m Danielle. Or Dani. Whatever works.”

“I’m Ryan, and this is Gabe.” Ryan grins. 

She narrows her eyes a bit, gaze lingering on Gabe. “You look familiar. Have we been in a class together?”

“Maybe? What are you taking?”

“You’re in my Psych class,” she concludes. 

“With Petrovich?”

“The very one.”

Gabe lights up. It’s kinda adorable. “Where do you sit?”

“Don’t,” she says as Will chuckles, which causes one side of her lips to quirk up. “I’m not having a repeat with what’s happening with Will here.”

“Hey now,” Will says as his two friends laugh at him. “Leno’s the one from Amherst, by the way.”

Danielle lights up. “Oh! Will’s talked about you. I’m from Ludlow.”

“Really?” She nods as Ryan leans back in his seat. “I went to Pope Francis.”

“Of course you did,” she deadpans. “That’s almost as bad as St. Sebastian’s.”

Before she can think about if it’s too mean, Ryan has burst out into laughter. “You know what? Smitty should marry you. You’re funny.”

She whips her head towards Will, who looks smug. “Are you telling everyone that?”

“No,” he drawls out. 

“Yes,” Gabe says with a giggle. “I mean, you are the reason Will did well on his paper.”

“I know,” she says wryly. 

“So why wouldn’t he marry you?”

She ignores them and tilts her head to the side at Will. “You know, I didn’t think you’d lure your side pieces into this nonsense.”

“They’ve been here from the start!”

“Side pieces?”

She blinks, before, “Oh! You guys were also high the night we met. You were the friends. It was kinda dark so I didn’t really see your faces.”

“If Coach ever hears you, we’re banned from the team,” Will says. 

“I don’t really have plans to get to know your coach, so you’re in luck.”

“Do you like hockey?” Gabe asks. 

Danielle clicks her pen. “What’s hockey?”

“Don’t,” Will warns as she giggles. “She always does this.”

“What?” Ryan smirks. “Bust your ass?”

“I mean, good,” Gabe adds. “You need it, Smitty.”

She nudges Ryan in the shoulder and blows Gabe an air kiss. “I like you two. Dunno why you hang out with Will though, so that’s a character flaw.”

“Can you help me with Psych homework?” Gabe asks with a hopeful tilt. 

“Of course.”

Will narrows his eyes playfully. “Get your own seat partner, Gabo.”

“As fun as this has been, unless you all are doing homework and can quiet down-”

“Can we join?” Will asks, playful facade fading into a genuine one. “We can leave, but we also did come to do homework.”

She puts an earbud back in. “Be my guest.”

By the end of her time in the library, she’s gotten a cookie from Ryan (“413 have to stick together, baby”), Gabe’s phone number so they can study for Psychology together and smiles from Will that has her stomach feeling unsettled. As she’s walking back to her dorm, she gets a text from her roommate Tracy. There’s a hockey game this weekend. Does Danielle wanna come? 

She gives Tracy’s text a thumbs up.

december 2023

“Happy last class,” Will says, sitting down next to her. 

She reaches out automatically for the coffee he slides over with a smile. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” He teases, but he’s visibly taken aback.

“Yeah,” she reaches into her bag to feel around for the crochet eagle. Once she finds it, she pulls it out carefully and places it in his hands. 

His eyes soften. “You made this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I love crocheting and, I don’t know, it seemed fitting.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, clipping it onto one of the zippers on his backpack. She swallows, a frog suddenly appearing in her throat. “I’ll carry it with me everywhere.”

“When do you leave for Sweden?”

“Leaving BC the 13th, so gotta take all my finals early.”

She hums. “That’s soon.”

“It is,” he drums his fingers on the table. “It feels like this semester has flown by.”

“Yeah,” she says somewhat wistfully. A curl falls onto Will’s forehead and she has to dig her nails into her hands to prevent her from reaching up and fixing it. 

He shakes his head a bit at himself, as if trying to motivate himself to do something. “Listen, I, uh, you can totally say no, because I know I kinda forced you to be my friend in the first place. And I’ve been wanting to ask you this for weeks now, maybe months, but I was thinking maybe when I come back next semester we could hang out?”

She teases him. “Hang out? Should we invite Gabe and Ryan along? Maybe Jacob? I met him the other day, you know. He threw you under the bus.”

“No,” he presses and Danielle hides her giggle at his minor petulance. “Just us two. On a date. Dinner and all. The whole nine yards.”

Danielle is full out grinning now. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re impossible,” Will deadpans. 

“Yes,” she says, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I pay. I owe you for all the coffees this semester.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” 

“You said anything.” 

“Dani.”

“Fine,” she pushes a finger into his chest. “You’re also deciding where we go though. I’m too indecisive for that.”

“Of course,” he grins, a slight blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll text you when I’m back on campus?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

january 2024

“It seems weird not seeing you Friday mornings anymore.”

Danielle chuckles as she opens the door to let Will inside. He steps to the side as she slips on her boots. “Not Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, yes. But there was something nice about seeing you to end my week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Laying it down thick right at the start, huh?”

“Well, I would’ve brought flowers to really drive it home, but I remember you mentioning you didn’t like them.”

“You have a scarily good memory,” she remarks, grabbing her bag before they walk out of her dorm, Will’s hand hovering over her lower back. “Where are we going?”

“This restaurant called Seasons 52. It’s a 30 minute walk but we could also drive since I have my car. But it’s also nice out and I know you like walking everywhere-”

She halts in the hallway, causing Will to crash into her. “Will, that’s…a nice restaurant.”

“Is that okay? Too much?” His eyes widen in uncertainty. “I’ve been there with family for special events and stuff and it’s pretty good and I figured that-”

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “It is. I just, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Will shrugs as they wait for the elevator. “It’s not a big deal. You deserve all the stops. Wouldn’t wanna put that outfit to waste either.”

She snorts looking down at the nice brown sweater and jeans she put on. “This is nothing. You look very sharp. Different from the sweats you usually wear.”

“Hey!” He protests as she laughs. “Remember when you saw me in a suit before the game?”

“Yeah. I think I have those pictures on my phone still.”

He rolls his eyes at the memory of him seeing Danielle right before a game as she just snapped pictures of him with a smirk. “You know, the boys gave me crap about that for days.”

“Mission accomplished then.” She nudges his hip with hers right as the elevator doors open. “I know I texted you this already, but congrats on the Gold. My mom was confused why hockey was on the TV and it wasn’t the Bruins. My brother was pumped though. He’s been trying to convince me to get into hockey for years.”

He blinks. “You watched?”

“I tried to. Saw the gold medal match in full though. Landon loved Ryan’s celebration. What a bitch.”

“Landon’s your brother?”

“Yes he is.”

“Hockey fan?”

“Yeah. He went to BU.”

“Lame,” Will says without thinking. 

She laughs. “I tell him that all the time.”

“Just the one brother?”

“Nah. Two younger sisters too. He’s the oldest. He loves it.”

“Your sisters must love you.”

Danielle takes her hair out of her jacket as they start walking. “Why do you think so?”

“I have an older sister. Grace. She’s awesome. Also at BC actually. So I know what it’s like to have an older sister to look up to.”

“I do love them,” she admits. “I think I’m the lucky one to have them though.”

For January, it is surprisingly warm as they make their way to the restaurant. Will has a grin plastered on his face the whole time as he just lets Danielle playfully rag on him. At some point, she grabs his hand and their hands stay connected and Will feels like he just scored a hattrick. Dinner is yummy and romantic and so fun because everything about Danielle Layden is fun. Will snags the check, ignoring her look in the process. 

As they’re walking back to campus, Danielle has tucked herself into Will’s side. She pokes him playfully. “Do you still think we’re getting married?”

Will cackles. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

“No,” she says softly, biting her lip. 

He looks at her momentarily, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good.”

Right in front of her dorm building, she kisses him. He smiles into her lips as he pulls her closer.

february 2024

Danielle has a big paper due next week. She doesn’t have time for this. 

She checks her phone again to skip the song and rolls her eyes at the dozens of messages from Will the whole morning. Thank God she’s been on Do Not Disturb. 

She may not know the ins and outs of hockey like her new boyfriend, but she knows what it’s like to lose. So she knows that he was really upset when BC lost in the first Beanpot game against BU. Hell, she was there in the stands. She knows the guys on the ice were one hundred times more upset than the fans in the stands representing the eagle. 

But ghosting her and then ditching her on a pre-planned date they had the next day is uncalled for. Judging from the sheer amount of texts and missed phone calls the last 24 hours, she knows Will knows he fucked up. But she’s not doing this. She’s not taking this crap from anyone, much less a boy. 

Two hours later, once she’s knocked out a good chunk of her paper, she leaves the library in search of some dinner outside of the dining hall to treat herself. It’s just her luck that as she’s walking past Conte with her headphones in, she sees some of the team in the distance walking towards her. Will is one of them. 

She sees the moment he recognizes her and then stubbornly puts her head down. She hears him call her name, but she just brushes roughly past him, shoulders knocking together. If he wants to explain herself, he’s gonna have to do more than that. 

When she’s just changed into her pajamas later that night, her phone rings. It’s Will again. She decides to answer.”

“What do you want?”

“Come outside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t-”

“Please?” 

She hears the plea in her voice. “Fine.” She hangs up, grabs her keys and jacket, and runs down the stairs. 

As soon as she walks outside, she sees Will standing to the side, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi,” he says.

“You ready to talk now?”

He flinches. “I deserved that.”

She crossed her arms, “Well?”

“I’m really, really sorry for ghosting you the last few days,” he rushes out quickly but tone dripped in sincerity and vulnerability. “I-it was really shitty of me to just avoid you and not respond to you at all, especially when I know you were just worried about me. I owed you more than that. I owe you more than that. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get to me like that. I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “Will, I get that losing a game like that sucks. I’m not really mad that you’re mad about it. I’m pissed that you didn’t talk to me, even if it was to tell me to leave you alone.”

“I’m really-”

She puts her hand up. “I’m not done yet.” He shuts his mouth and nods at her to continue. “I know I’m still trying to understand your world and how I fit into that, but getting ignored like I was the last few days sucked. We just started dating. It felt like a slap in the face. I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk to me, just tell me you don’t wanna talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark. If that happens again-”

“It won’t,” he says firmly. “It won’t. And it’s not my world that you have to fit into or whatever. It’s not about me. It’s never about me. It’ll never be about me. I fucked up, Dani. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She looks at him for a moment, before jabbing a finger into his chest. “Apology accepted. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, I’m such an idiot. It’s not like you’d ever judge me.”

“For what? The loss?”

“..Yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, taking her hands in his. “I judge you. I do it all the time, actually. Never, ever for that, though.” She squeezes his hands. “It just wasn’t you guys’ night. You’re a good hockey player, Will, but that’s not why I’m with you”

He chuckles wryly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I need to buy you a ring.”

“Easy, tiger,” she warns with a grin. “If you want me to completely forgive you, you owe me coffee for the next three months.”

“That easy?”

“No,” she admits. “But it’s a start.”

He places a quick kiss on her lips. “Anything. Anything you want.”

april 2024

The second the clock runs out, Danielle puts her head in her hands. There are murmurs of disappointment and cursing heard from attendants of the Frozen Four watch party her friend hosted, but all Danielle can do is bite her lip in sadness for Will and the other guys. She ses Ryan visibly sobbing and that’s her limit, as she walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take a breather. She fingers through her phone to the text chain with Will, sending a red heart and “always proud of you” before putting her phone back in her pocket. 

She squeezes her eyes shut. God, they were so close. They worked so hard. Will’s worked so hard. But that’s just how it goes sometimes. 

As she’s helping clean up, she can’t help but think of the implications of the loss. She hasn’t been shy with Will after learning more about how big of a deal he is in the hockey world and how there’s a chance he may not come back next year. Initially it terrified her — getting into a relationship with someone who might not even be on the East Coast in a few months — and it still does somewhat, but he’s been so open and honest about it and Danielle has never been the kind of girl to not do something because she’s afraid. 

But that night, in her dorm, as she sees Will send a text back with just a heart, she’s afraid. They’ve only been dating for four months. And he’s become one of the best parts of her life. She has always wanted him to do what’s best for himself and his career — she has no part in that decision and doesn’t want to have a part — but if that means leaving BC, what does the future of them look like? 

The next morning, Danielle is up early and playing with her phone in bed mindlessly, waiting for the text from Will that he’s back and settled in his dorm. She knows the team had a flight scheduled to land early this morning and even before last night’s result, she was always going to see him.

Once she gets a text from Will, she’s bolting out the door, grabbing a small of groceries she had gotten the night before, knowing that him and Gabe’s fridge is emptier than usual and maybe a simple breakfast of a nice omelette and a smoothie will cheer them up. 

The door swings open before she can even text Will to let her in. She barely sees his face before he pulls her into a tight hug. She squeezes him, swaying them side to side, as students going in and out of the building step sideways to avoid them. 

“I’m sorry, dude.”

He somehow musters out a watery chuckle at the nickname that’s somehow become a petname between them. He mutters into her shoulder. “I fucking hate losing.”

She continues rubbing his back. “I know.”

“We were so close.”

“I know,” she pulls away and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. He practically collapses into himself, pulling her into another hug, resting his chin on top. “I’m proud of you regardless,” she says into his chest softly. “All of you. You worked so hard.”

“I love you,” he mutters and Danielle’s stomach flips. He first said it the day before he left for St. Paul when they were having a movie night at her place, snuggled up in her bed as he whispered it into her hair, but it still makes her throat close up with adoration. 

(She hasn’t said it back yet, but he hasn’t pressured her at all. She’s almost amazed at how much he doesn’t seem to be.)

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go inside.”

He automatically reaches for the bag around her shoulders with a furrowed brow. “What’s in here?”

“Groceries. I figured you and Gabe hadn’t eaten yet so I thought I’d whip up an omelette or something.”

He steps into the empty elevator and kisses her for the first time since he left. “God, you’re an angel.”

“No, I think ahead,” she corrects. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in person.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I feel your support everywhere all the time.”

“You do?”

“With every call and text,” he assures. “Thanks for coming. I’m probably not going to be the best company today.”

“Will,” she taps his chin so he’ll look at her when she says her next statement. “There is nowhere else I would’ve been today, no matter the result.” He just pulls her closer to his side in response. 

When she gets to Will and Gabe’s suite, she immediately scurries around the kitchen as Will hovers. Usually she would shoo him away and make him wait elsewhere, but she knows he doesn’t wanna be alone right now. As she’s plating the second omelette, Gabe wanders out and she shoots him a small smile, stomach dropping at the bags under his eyes that mirror Will’s. She gestures at him to sit and slides over a plate and a glass of the green smoothie she made before giving him a hug. 

“Smitty’s lucky to have you,” Gabe says inbetween forkfuls. 

Danielle chuckles as she fixes herself a plate. “I’m just as lucky to have him. Where’s Ryan? I can fix him a plate if he wants.”

“Stop,” Will says with a look.

“What? I can!”

“I know,” he says fondly. “But you don’t need to.”

She gives him a deadpan look. “Well, is he coming?”

Will sighs. “He said he might stop by in a bit.”

“I’ll leave him some of the smoothie then.” She catches Will’s smile as she starts digging into her omelette, talking with Gabe about anything except the loss. 

After breakfast, she and Will venture to his room, where they lay in his bed and he puts on Brooklyn 99. As she’s laying on his chest and he’s twirling her hair around his finger, she can tell his head is everywhere but in this room. She lets him be like that for three episodes before she reaches for the remote to pause it. 

She turns to him. “What’s going through your mind?”

He shrugs. “Probably everything you think.” They sit in silence for a minute or two, before he pipes up again. “You can ask me.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the answer is yours to decide, and I know you’re gonna ask for my opinion but I don’t want you to be influenced by it,” she smoothes over his furrowed brows with her thumbs. “Everything coming up next has been a thing long before we met. Even if I had an opinion about it, it shouldn’t be taken into account.”

“So you think I should leave BC and sign?”

“I think you should seriously weigh the pros and cons of both, which I already know you’re doing.”

He sighs with a wry smile. “You were born to be a lawyer.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it now? Because we can.”

“Later, maybe.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“But I want to let you know that no matter what I decide, that how I feel about you is the same.” She raises an eyebrow but he’s so lost in his thoughts and what he wants to say that he misses it as he barrels on, determined. “Whatever decision I make, I still want this to keep going. Which is maybe unfair to ask you because there’s a chance I’d be all the way across the country. But I really care about you and-”

“Will,” she interrupts him, holding a hand up. “You’re getting so ahead of yourself. Make your decision first, and then we can talk about us, okay?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just leaving you.”

“Huh? You’re not. I know you’re not. This is your career, dude. I’m never, ever going to hold that against you.” She presses a quick kiss on his lips to try to assure him. “I knew what I was getting into, okay? And I’m still here, aren’t I? We can talk about the logistics of it all later more in depth, if we even need to get to that point, but don’t worry yourself in a tizzy about the ‘us’ part of it so much, okay?”

He blinks. “I got you something.”

Deciding to go along with the sudden change of topic, she humors him. “What did you get me?”

He reaches over her to his bedside and she just lets him, exaggeratingly spitting out his hair that touches her mouth. He just rolls his eyes before retrieving a small white bag. 

She softens as he places it in her hands. “What’s this?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You didn’t think I’d forget about your birthday, did you? I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were competing for a national championship,” she responds automatically. “I didn’t-you didn’t have to get anything for me.”

He scoffs softly. “Bullshit,” he nods at the bag. “Open it.”

Biting her lip she carefully opens the bag, to see that there’s a ring box there. “Oh my God. Are you asking me to marry you?”

He rolls his eyes as she giggles. “You’re the worst.”

She pops open the box and it is a ring. She picks it up gently inbetween her fingers. A dainty leaf ring with light teal stones. It’s perfect. It matches with the rings she already wears. She slips it on and suddenly wants to cry. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” 

She shoves the bag and box to the side before hugging him properly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“Happy birthday. Belated.”

As she looks down at the ring, she takes a deep breath. They’re going to be just fine. 

may 2024

As Ryan parks his car in front of Will’s childhood home in Lexington, Danielle suddenly feels like her feet are glued to the floor of his car. 

Ryan, noticing his friend’s girlfriend’s hesitation, nudges her shoulder gently. She’s quickly become one of his friends now, especially considering that he’s going to be staying at BC for at least another year. “Hey,” he says softly. “You good?”

“I’m great,” she responds automatically, reaching to the back seat to grab the box holding his present.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he says. 

“It’s Will’s day,” she says firmly. “How I feel doesn’t matter.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’d disagree. And he would too. You can be happy for him and also sad that he’s moving to the other side of the country, you know?”

She looks over to him and swallows at the look on his face. The unspoken “I am” lingers in the air and she sighs. A small smile appears on her face as they exchange a look, as she leans forward to place a quick friendly kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for driving.”

“Anytime.”

The first person she recognizes as they filter into the home is Grace, who beams at the sight of them both. She wraps Ryan in a hug first, squeezing him tight before pushing him away to hug Danielle. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you. How were finals?”

“A bit tough, I won’t lie.”

“You get used to it,” Grace says sympathetically, taking the box out of the younger girl’s hands. “He’s somewhere out back, surrounded by a bunch of people probably.”

Danielle nods and Grace must notice her lingering because the blonde offers her a reassuring smile. “He’s been talking about you all day.”

“That’s nice of him,” she comments softly. 

Grace gives her a knowing smile before lighting pushing her towards the direction of the back porch. “Go. He’ll be excited to see you.”

The second she walks outside, she smiles at all the teal balloons decorating the home and how wonderful the weather is to celebrate Will officially signing with San Jose. He made the decision a few weeks ago but waited until now to make it official and Danielle couldn't be any prouder. 

It seems like when her eyes land on him, he’s already looking back, eyes bright and a big smile on his face as he gestures for her to come to him. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his side for a hug. 

He instinctively kisses the top of her head. “Hi. This is Aidan, Nico and Max from the St. Sebs days. Boys, this is-”

“Dani,” Aidan says with a knowing smile. “Nice to meet you. Smitty hasn’t shut up about you since you guys met.”

“Unsurprising,” Danielle drawls out. “He’s kinda obsessed with me.”

The guys all laugh and Daniele giggles along with them. She looks up at Will, who’s beaming. She fights the urge to kiss him in front of all his friends, but he beats her to it, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. She laughs into his lips when his friends start chirping him goodheartedly. She hears Ryan saying that he’s used to seeing this shit all the time and that it’s frankly the cutest thing ever and Danielle is assured that Ryan’s a real one.

“Congrats,” she murmurs to Will, his friends now distracted. “I love you.”

(Danielle cracked a few weeks ago, when she finished her last final and Will took her out on a surprise date into the city. They were walking along the Charles River in the sunset and she felt like she just had to tell him she loved him at that moment. The smile from him after she said it is an image she’ll always have in her memory)

“Thanks, babe,” he says. He interlaces their hands together. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

Will chuckles. “Come on. We’ll start with the cousins. They’re easy.”

She follows him as his thumb brushes against the ring.

[pedriache]

Macklin Celebrini Boyfriend Head Canons !

‘ i could write a story on the corners of your midnight smile ’

Boyfriend Macklin who . . . is so affectionate. Forehead kisses are his favorite. If you’re both rushing around in the morning and he passes by you.. well, you’ll feel the soft brush of his lips against your temples or forehead. Something gentle and lingering but so loving.

Boyfriend Macklin who . . . teases. A lot. Whenever possible. If you nearly trip, his mouth is pulling into a grin instantly. He’ll hold out a fake microphone, asking, “and how do you feel about your performance today?” He’s met with a light smack to his hand and a scowl—though your lips always twitched in amusement.

Boyfriend Macklin who . . . is protective but not overbearing. If he notices you look slightly uncomfortable, his hand is finding you—whether it’s your hand, wrist, arm—and he’s pulling you aside.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows scrunched together, a small frown on his lips.

You’d smile lightly, nodding. “Yeah, just tired.” And with that, he’s already bidding everyone a goodbye or goodnight and wrapping an arm around your waist comfortingly as he leads you to the exit.

Boyfriend Macklin who . . . shows his love through acts of service. If he’d been away for a while for a game, he’s coming back with something for you. He’ll have a new jellycat or something you’d been wanting but never bought yourself. Or, you’ll find him fixing something you’d broken. Coming home from work or school only to see he’s in the middle of screwing a nail into the bench that had been wobbly for weeks—google opened on his phone so he knew he was doing it correctly.

Boyfriend Macklin who . . . smiles at everything you do. Which, you adored. His gummy, wide smile. You could be doing the most minuscule thing and he’d smile fondly. And honestly, you would practically do anything to see it. Cracking corny jokes until he was laughing. Macklin is more than happy to provide you with one, too. He just wanted to see the sparkle in your eyes every chance he got. So, if that means he has to smile till his cheeks hurt, then so be it.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @spidybaby @sakashq @joaoflms @piastri-fvx @be11ingham

[nylqnder]

FALLING FOR YOU WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x marleau!daughter!reader

summary: a visit to the guest house, in an attempt to comfort will after a grueling loss, brings you two closer together than ever.

warnings: friends to lovers, pretty detailed make out scene, talks of being insecure

wc: 2.02k

notes: !!IMPORTANT!! i absolutely do not agree with the politics of the marleau family, they are simply being used as a plot device in this. pretend for the sake of this that the family are not bigots.

The house is silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night. Shadows stretch long and languid across the hallway, cast by the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. You move with practiced stealth, each step careful. Years of navigating this house have taught you exactly which floorboards creak under a footstep, which door hinges squeak in protest when nudged too far. Even still, your breath stills in your chest as you slip past your parent's bedroom door, past your brothers' rooms, your heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. The guest house isn’t far — just across the backyard — but trying to tiptoe in absolute silence past your parents' bedroom door and past your brothers' doors makes it feel like an eternity away.

Will had looked wrecked when he came home. The Sharks game had been brutal, a 7-2 loss to Florida, and not even his highlight-reel goal could shift the dejection that settled over him like a heavy coat. You saw it in his posture the moment he stepped off the rink: the slump of his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth, the way he avoided the gaze of everyone in the locker room. You had seen it in the post-game debrief he always did with your dad, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. You didn’t have to ask to know what was running through his mind. You felt like you knew his thoughts as though they were your own.

It wasn’t always like this. When Will first moved in, things had been awkward. He was polite — too polite. He made his bed with military precision, thanked your mom after every meal, and practically sprinted out of the room whenever he sensed he might be intruding on family time. You weren’t sure if it was out of respect or if he was just trying to survive in an unfamiliar house. Either way, it took weeks before he loosened up, before the sharp edges of his formality softened into something more comfortable.

Somewhere along the way, he had become your closest friend. He was the person you whispered late-night confessions to, the one who could tell when you needed someone to listen rather than someone to talk. And it went both ways. You had spent hours sprawled across the couch in the guest house, talking about everything and nothing. You told him about school, about how you weren’t sure if biology was what you actually wanted to study. It was supposed to be the safe, responsible choice, the thing that made sense. But the more you immersed yourself in it, the more it felt like wearing a sweater that didn’t quite fit. He listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel like you weren’t overthinking things. And in return, he let you see the parts of himself he hid from the world.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he had admitted one night, voice rough with exhaustion. “I mean, I know what I should be doing. I know what’s expected of me. But every time we lose, every time I don’t produce, it feels like — I don’t know. Like I’m letting everyone down.”

You had seen the articles, heard the analysts questioning whether he was adjusting well enough to the NHL, whether he was living up to expectations. You knew he heard them, too, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

Will knew he was living with Patrick Marleau so he could be moulded into a better player, something like what the Sharks legend once was. But some nights, it felt like you had done more for Will than your father ever had.

The guest house is dark except for the thin sliver of light spilling beneath the door. You knock, softly. A pause. Then the rustling of movement before the door swings open, revealing Will standing in the dim glow of the lamp inside. His hair is damp from a shower, curling at the edges, and he’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

“You should be asleep,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion.

“So should you.” You cross the room, your socked feet near silent against the hardwood. “But we both know that’s not happening.”

He exhales, a ghost of a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He collapses onto the couch, the television murmuring in the background showing a post-game analysis droning on about the Sharks’ mistakes. He doesn’t mute it, but his focus is entirely on you as you settle beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The room is heavy with unspoken words, the kind that settles in the air and refuses to dissipate. Will’s eyes flick to the television, then back to you, his jaw tight.

“Tough game,” you say softly.

Will’s jaw tightens. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know I played like shit.”

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “I don’t think you did.”

Will shakes his head, eyes dark with frustration. “We lost by five. Doesn’t matter if I scored, doesn’t matter if I had the best shift of my life. We still lost.”

Your heart clenches. “Will, the team is rebuilding. You knew that coming in.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d be a part of the problem.”

“You’re not.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back, tilting his head against the couch cushions, eyes slipping shut. His breathing evens out, slow and measured, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on your knees. “You’re a rookie in the NHL. You’re playing against the best in the world every night. No one expects you to carry this team, least of all yourself.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. “You’re getting better every game,” you continue, voice gentle but firm. “And the guys in that locker room? They know that. This season isn’t about wins, it’s about building something. And you’re a part of that foundation.”

Will lifts his head and shifts slightly, angling his body toward you. His eyes search yours, dark and unreadable. “How do you always know what to say?”

You shrug, offering a small smile. “I pay attention.”

A beat of silence. Then you notice it — the way his gaze lingers on your face, tracing over your features with something heavy and intent. You suddenly feel warm, hyper-aware of the fact that he’s shirtless, toned torso on full display, and the way his breathing has changed, now slightly uneven.

“What?” you ask, your own voice quieter now.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and his head tilts slightly. His gaze lingers, sweeping over your face with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. The air between you shifts, thickens, as if something unspoken has settled into the space, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Will,” you say softly, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. “What?”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Spell what out?”

His eyes darken, and his fingers twitch slightly where they rest against his thigh. He leans in just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of clean soap and something undeniably him.

“You know I want you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. He watches you, waiting, giving you a moment to react, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.

Because you want him too.

The realization hits you with startling clarity, and before you can second-guess it, you close the space between you. It’s tentative at first, a brush of lips, a question unspoken. But the moment his mouth moves against yours, the hesitation dissolves. His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

Your fingers settle against his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch making your head spin. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s thought about it just as much as you have. There’s something desperate in the way he pulls you closer, something that tells you he’s afraid this might not be real.

You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Will.”

His forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. “Yeah?”

Your heart hammers against your ribs. “I want you too.”

His breath hitches, and then he’s kissing you again, slow and deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth against his. Will pulls away, but barely, his eyes searching yours.

“You sure about this?” Will’s voice is rough, barely more than a whisper, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

You nod, barely, but it’s enough. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes. He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, and then he’s kissing you again. This time, there’s nothing hesitant about it. It’s deep and slow and intoxicating, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid to rush something he’s wanted for so long.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, fingers flexing as if grounding himself in the moment. You shift instinctively, moving closer until your knees are brushing his solid thigh, until there’s no space left between you. Your hands slide over his shoulders, tracing down to his chest, resting on him as you lean closer. He shivers under your cold fingers, just barely, and the realization that you affect him just as much as he affects you sends a thrill through your veins.

Will’s hands move down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion, his strength effortless. You let out a surprised gasp, breaking the kiss for just a second, but his hands splayed against your back, holding you close. He grins, eyes dark with something wickedly fond.

“Better?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Your lips curl into a grin, but your heart is racing. “Shut up.”

His laughter is quiet, a vibration against your chest, but it fades as his gaze dips to your lips again. He kisses you like he means it, like he’s wanted to do this forever. His hands trace slow, soothing patterns against your back, anchoring you to him.

The television drones on in the background, forgotten, the post-game analysis long past. The only thing that exists at this moment is the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something precious. He kisses you with an aching sort of tenderness like he’s memorizing you, like he never wants to forget what this feels like.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you properly, his expression is unreadable — something caught between wonder and disbelief. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he admits, voice rough with emotion.

You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the damp curls away from his forehead. “I can.”

Will's lips curve into a slow, lopsided smile, something soft and unguarded. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, like he’s committing the moment to memory.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, brushing your nose against his. “Yeah.”

For the first time all night, the weight of the loss seems to ease off his shoulders. He exhales, a quiet, content sound, and lets his forehead rest against yours.

“Stay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “With me… tonight?”

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

And as he pulls you closer, the Sharks' loss feels like a distant memory — because for once, in this tiny, quiet moment, Will Smith isn’t thinking about hockey at all.

[rgwriteshockey]

lakehouse summer w/ will smith ⇒

will smith x hughes!reader

summary: will smith, dating y/n hughes, faces teasing from her protective brothers jack and quinn during a summer lake house visit.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: jack and quinn teasing

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it’s a blistering saturday afternoon in july, and will smith is sitting on the porch of the lake house, staring out at the water. the sun’s reflecting off the lake in a way that’s almost blinding, and the air is thick with the promise of humidity. he takes a sip of his iced coffee, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the heat wrapping around him, and tries to focus on the sound of the wind rustling the trees.

beside him, y/n is lounging, her feet dangling over the edge of the porch, her sunglasses perched atop her head. she's wearing a hot pink bikini with one of wills shirts on top of it. will’s not sure how they ended up here—just the two of them, on the porch at jack and quinn’s lake house—but it’s nice. it’s peaceful.

until, of course, jack and quinn show up.

"you guys need help with anything?" quinn calls from the yard, his voice loud and obnoxious as he jogs up to the porch, a grin plastered across his face. jack trails behind him, carrying a cooler and a six-pack of beer, looking far too relaxed for someone who’s apparently planning to ruin will’s afternoon.

will sighs. he’s used to this. jack and quinn have been friends with him for a while now, but that doesn’t mean they’ve ever been shy about teasing him. especially when it comes to y/n. and y/n, of course, being the youngest and slightly more innocent of the group, is always a target too.

“you two good out here?” jack asks, winking at y/n, and giving will a look that’s probably meant to be subtle, but it’s anything but.

y/n rolls her eyes, nudging will’s shoulder playfully. “don’t even start,” she says, the tone of her voice soft but knowing. she’s heard it all before.

“start?” quinn laughs, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “we’re just making sure you two aren’t... getting too comfortable out here. no need to rush it, huh?”

will immediately feels himself getting defensive. “we’re fine,” he says quickly, a little too quickly, but he’s not about to let them make it awkward. “just enjoying the day.”

jack drops the cooler onto the table and raises an eyebrow, looking between will and y/n. “enjoying the day, huh? is that what we’re calling it now?” he smirks at y/n. “are you sure about that?”

y/n laughs softly, her shoulders shaking as she tries to hide her amusement behind her sunglasses. “you guys are unbelievable,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“hey, we’re just making sure will’s treating you right,” quinn teases, his grin widening. “he’s a hockey player, y/n, you gotta keep your standards high.” he looks at will with a playful but pointed look, and will can’t help but feel a little hot under the collar. “can’t have you falling for a guy who might be too focused on pucks and not enough on... whatever else you’re into.”

“oh, god,” y/n groans, covering her face with her hands. “i didn’t sign up for this.”

“don’t worry, y/n,” jack says with a grin. “we’re just here to keep will on his toes. you know, make sure he doesn’t get too comfortable.”

will throws his head back, exasperated. “seriously? you guys can’t leave it alone for five minutes?”

“nah, we’re just having a little fun,” quinn says, throwing an arm around will’s shoulders in a way that’s way too casual. “besides, we all know how protective older brothers can be, right, jack?”

“hey, you think i’m bad?” jack laughs, shooting quinn a glance. “just wait until we get luke out here. he’s gonna have a lot to say about will.”

“don’t remind me,” will says, holding his hand up in mock surrender. “i’m gonna need a few beers before that conversation happens.”

y/n leans back, putting her feet up on the railing, clearly unbothered by the ongoing teasing. “you’re both insane,” she says. “but i’m used to it by now.”

“well, we’re not the ones dating will,” quinn says, waggling his eyebrows at y/n. “so, who’s the real crazy one?”

y/n shakes her head but can’t hold back her smile. “you two are ridiculous.”

“hey, we’re just looking out for our little sister,” jack says with a serious face, though it’s totally ruined by the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “wouldn’t want her to fall into the wrong hands.”

will narrows his eyes, though he’s trying not to laugh. “i’m sitting right here, you know?”

quinn snickers. “oh, we know. trust me, we know.”

“god, i swear,” will mutters, but he’s chuckling now, because despite the teasing, he’s not mad. he actually kind of likes it. it’s a little weird, a little annoying, but it’s also kind of... sweet. jack and quinn are just protective older brothers, and he gets that. it’s kind of endearing, even though it’s at his expense.

“you two can keep talking all you want,” y/n says, looking at will with a smile that makes him feel a little lighter. “but i’m gonna enjoy my summer. let’s just sit here and not let them ruin it for us.”

will grins. “that’s the spirit.”

the conversation shifts again as they start talking about the plan for the evening—something about a bonfire and marshmallows, and maybe some more teasing from jack and quinn. but for now, will’s content. they’re all together, and the sun’s starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the lake.

later that night, they’re sitting around the bonfire, the flames crackling and dancing in the cool evening air. everyone’s laughing and joking, the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore in the distance. will can feel the heat of the fire on his face, but it’s a welcome contrast to the chill in the air.

“you guys think you’ll make it to the lake next weekend?” quinn asks, taking a sip from his beer. “or are you both too busy being all coupley and stuff?” he gives a mocking sigh. “sooo romantic.”

y/n rolls her eyes. “we’re not that bad,” she protests, though her cheeks are a little flushed.

“nah, they’re totally a thing now,” jack says with a fake dramatic gasp. “i can already see it. you two, holding hands by the fire, watching the sunset, all that cheesy stuff.”

will feels himself blush but tries to brush it off. “you know, you guys are really starting to get on my nerves.”

“aw, poor will,” quinn teases, clearly enjoying himself. “don’t worry, we’re just making sure you’re up to snuff. y/n deserves the best.”

“well, i’m right here,” y/n says, looking amused, though a little embarrassed too. “and i don’t think i need you two to remind me every two seconds.”

“ah, but we do,” jack says, completely serious, and for a moment, will thinks jack’s not messing around. “you’re our little sister. we’ll never stop looking out for you.”

y/n gives him a fond but exasperated look. “okay, okay, i get it. you guys are protective.”

“only because we care,” quinn adds, grinning as he raises his bottle of beer. “now, where’s that marshmallow?”

they end up roasting marshmallows until they’re too full to eat any more, and the teasing dies down for a bit, the group settling into an easy rhythm as the night drifts on. will’s glad to have y/n here, to be part of this strange, welcoming family of hers. it’s funny—he never imagined that he’d be in a situation like this, where the teasing feels less like an attack and more like... a weird kind of affection.

but as the night goes on, with jack and quinn’s light-hearted banter and y/n’s quiet laughter beside him, he realizes that this is just how they show they care. and honestly, it’s not so bad. he can handle the teasing.

“hey,” y/n whispers to him as the fire burns down to embers. “don’t let them get to you too much.”

will smiles, feeling the warmth of the fire, of her, and the laughter of her brothers still floating in the air. “i think i can handle it.”

"good," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch the fire fade. "because they're never going to stop."

will laughs softly, wrapping an arm around her. "i’ll survive."

and in the end, he knows she’s right. jack and quinn will never stop teasing him, and he’s pretty sure that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

[cailinsblog]

Protecting Her Hear | macklin celebrini

Macklin celebrini x reader

It was a crisp December evening in San Jose, and the SAP Center was buzzing with excitement as fans filled the stands for the Sharks’ home game against the Chicago Blackhawks. Among the sea of fans in the lower bowl, one face stood out. Y/N, wearing her favorite Macklin Celebrini jersey, was settled into her seat, a smile lighting up her face as she watched her boyfriend skate out onto the ice. The young NHL star was having an incredible season with the Sharks, and every game felt like a new chapter in their story.

Macklin had grown close to Y/N ever since their high school days, and even though his hockey career had launched him into the public eye, he always made time for her. She was his constant, the calm in his otherwise hectic life. They had spent so many nights at games, watching his teammates and feeling the rush of the crowd, but tonight was special. It was their first time attending a Sharks game as an official couple, and Y/N couldn’t have been more proud.

As the game progressed, Y/N found herself engrossed in the action, her eyes glued to Macklin, who had already made a couple of incredible plays. She was cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd, completely unaware of the man who had stumbled to her seat.

The man was probably in his late twenties, and from the faint smell of alcohol, Y/N could tell he had been drinking for a while. At first, he lingered in the aisle near her, watching the game without much attention to her. But then, he began leaning closer, and Y/N noticed him trying to strike up a conversation.

“Hey there, you enjoying the game?” he slurred, his voice far too loud for the crowded arena.

Y/N gave him a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene. “Yeah, I’m here with my boyfriend. He’s playing tonight.”

“Oh? You’re with him?” The man seemed to squint as if it was hard for him to fully process the information. “Which one is he?”

“Macklin Celebrini,” Y/N replied, gesturing toward the ice where Macklin was skating along the blue line.

The man’s eyes flickered toward the ice, then back to Y/N. He leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol. “You know, you’re way too pretty for a guy like him. You could be with someone better. What are you doing with a hockey player? They’re all the same.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, her discomfort starting to rise. She wasn’t sure what the man was getting at, but his presence was beginning to feel overwhelming. She shifted in her seat, trying to subtly create space between them. “I really don’t think that’s something I want to talk about,” she said firmly, hoping he would take the hint.

But the man, clearly not catching on, continued to stand too close, his words becoming more inappropriate. “You don’t have to be so uptight, sweetheart. It’s just a game. No need to be all serious.”

At that moment, Y/N felt her anxiety spike. She could feel her hands tense up, and her heart began to race. She didn’t want to make a scene, but she also didn’t want to just sit there and take it. She stood up, trying to move toward the aisle, but the man blocked her path.

Before she could say anything, she felt a presence behind her.

“Macklin, please!” The man said, raising a hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m just talking to your girl.”

But Macklin’s face was a picture of intense focus as he skated toward the bench for a quick line change. His eyes immediately locked onto Y/N and the man in front of her. He could see the discomfort in her expression. He had been scanning the crowd between shifts and had noticed the scene unfolding. In an instant, his protective instincts kicked in, and he pushed off from the bench, his skates slicing through the ice as he rushed toward the exit.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she saw Macklin’s figure approaching the stands. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, but she also didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. However, Macklin had already seen enough.

The moment he reached the barrier separating the stands from the ice, he hoisted himself up effortlessly, his hands gripping the railing. He made his way directly to Y/N, his gaze laser-focused on the man who was still standing too close to her.

“Hey,” Macklin’s voice was calm, but it held an unmistakable edge. “Back off. Now.”

The drunk man blinked, his brain taking a moment to process the situation. But when he saw Macklin’s face, his expression changed. He had clearly recognized the player, but the alcohol still clouded his judgment. “What? Are you gonna tell me what to do now? I’m just talking to your girl,” he sneered.

Y/N could feel the tension in the air, but she was grateful that Macklin was there. She took a step back, not wanting to escalate things further, but also not wanting to be in the middle of it. Macklin’s gaze softened as he turned toward her.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to hold hers. His eyes searched hers, full of concern. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone with him. I should’ve been more aware.”

Y/N nodded, a small, shaky smile on her face. “I’m fine, Mack. Thank you for coming over, though. I… I didn’t know what to do.”

Macklin squeezed her hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. He turned back to the man, who was now visibly shrinking under Macklin’s glare.

“I don’t care what you’ve had to drink, but if you don’t leave my girlfriend alone, we’ll be having a much bigger problem,” Macklin said, his tone firm and unwavering.

The drunk man staggered back, his bravado faltering as the reality of the situation set in. Without another word, he turned and stumbled away toward the exit.

Macklin turned back to Y/N, and his expression softened. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart still racing but now filled with gratitude. “I’m okay. I’m just glad you were here.”

Macklin smiled, his hand still holding hers. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Y/N. You mean the world to me.”

They shared a tender moment, the chaos of the situation fading into the background as Macklin pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go back to our seats. The game’s not over yet, and I think we could use some popcorn,” he said with a wink.

As they made their way back to their seats, Y/N leaned her head on Macklin’s shoulder, feeling safe and cared for. The rest of the game continued, with Macklin playing as if nothing had happened, but Y/N knew better. She knew that her boyfriend would always protect her, no matter what.

And as the final buzzer sounded, signaling a Sharks victory, she felt a sense of warmth, not just from the win, but from the love and protection that Macklin had shown her. She was lucky to have him in her life, and she knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would face them together.