#san jose sharks imagine

[777bae]

UNFILTERED LOVE WILL SMITH

Summary :: After a rough day, you snap, frustration spilling over in front of Will. But instead of pulling away, he meets your fire with quiet understanding, reminding you that your passion isn’t a flaw—it’s something he loves. (REQUESTED :: prompt 23)

Warnings :: Easily annoyed reader (anger issues kinda?)

Word count :: 3.4k

You’re both sitting at the kitchen table in Will’s apartment, the late evening light filtering softly through the window, casting long, thin shadows that stretch across the floor. It’s a quiet, peaceful scene, but beneath the calm, there’s an unmistakable tension building in you, an undercurrent of frustration that seems to have followed you all day. The steady hum of the overhead lights fills the silence, the faint buzz almost rhythmic, matching the quietness of the apartment. Will is absorbed in his phone, scrolling through messages from teammates, checking stats for his upcoming game, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. You, on the other hand, are doing the same thing, but your mind isn’t in it. Your fingers trace the condensation on the side of your glass, the water pooling in lazy rings, but your thoughts are elsewhere. They’re swirling with a restless energy that you can’t shake.

The frustration started early in the morning. It was a series of small things, inconsequential on their own, but together, they were enough to push you to the edge. You’re usually good at brushing things off, keeping a level head when minor annoyances come your way, but today, it felt like the universe was conspiring against you. The first incident was at the grocery store—nothing major, just a rude cashier who barely acknowledged your presence. You’d asked a simple question about the organic apples, but the cashier had rolled their eyes and answered in a tone that made your skin prickle. You tried to shrug it off, but it lingered in the back of your mind, irritating you more than it should have.

Then, on the way home, it happened again—another idiot on the road, cutting you off without a signal, forcing you to slam on the brakes. The screech of tires had sent your heart into your throat, your hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension. You cursed under your breath as you tried to regain control of the situation, but the anger boiled inside of you. Why do people have to drive like that? you thought, the frustration simmering.

And to top it off, there was the friend who had promised to meet you for coffee and completely bailed without a single word of explanation. Why do people do that? you asked yourself, rolling your eyes, but still feeling the sting of it. You’d been looking forward to the meet-up, hoping it would be a chance to catch up, but instead, you were left sitting alone at a table for one, a cup of cold coffee slowly turning to ice in front of you.

Now, here you are, sitting across from Will, trying to keep it together, but the weight of everything is making it harder to breathe. The pressure is mounting, your patience is wearing thin, and all those little irritations from the day are crowding your mind, demanding attention. You try to focus on the moment—on Will, on the calm of the apartment—but it’s no use. The frustration is building like a storm inside you, a tight knot in your chest, and it’s only a matter of time before it bursts free.

You set your glass down with more force than you mean to, the sharp clink of it against the table echoing loudly in the quiet room. The noise is suddenly too harsh, too jarring, and you instantly regret it. You glance up at Will, worried that you’ve disrupted the calm atmosphere, but you can see that he’s already noticed. His eyes lift from his phone, narrowing slightly as he takes in the change in your energy. You can feel his gaze on you, like a weight pressing on your chest. He tilts his head, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Everything okay?” His voice is soft but laced with an edge of something else—something you can’t quite place. It’s not accusatory, but it’s not casual, either. It’s the voice of someone who knows that something’s off, but is waiting for you to open up about it.

You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the flood of words that are threatening to spill out. You don’t want to be that person—the one who gets upset over the little things, the one who lets her anger take over, especially not in front of him. But today, it feels impossible to control. The frustration is like a tight coil inside you, ready to snap. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, the words rush out.

“I’m so sick of people acting like they can just do whatever the hell they want,” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you intend. Your voice is loud, too loud for the quiet of the room, and your hand slams down onto the table with a force that makes the entire surface shift slightly. It’s as if the anger has taken over, and now you can’t keep it contained. “Like, do they think they own the road or something? Or that it’s fine to just be rude to me when I’m just trying to be polite?”

The words tumble out, one after the other, fueled by a frustration that has been building all day. Your heart is pounding, your pulse quickening with the heat of it, and before you can stop yourself, you’re on your feet, pacing back and forth. You feel restless, agitated, like your body can’t contain the anger that’s been simmering for hours. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor behind you, a sound that cuts through the silence and makes you feel even more exposed. But it’s like you can’t stop moving. The words keep coming, faster now, spilling out in a rush of frustration.

“And don’t even get me started on the people who think I’m being too much when I call them out on their crap!” You stop and turn to face him, hands on your hips, your voice rising in volume. “Like, I’m not asking for the world here. I’m just asking for basic decency, but apparently that’s asking too much. And then I get told I’m too harsh, or that I’m too sensitive or….” You falter, cutting yourself off mid-sentence, the anger turning into an exasperated sigh. You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s like the anger has taken over completely.

You stop pacing, and for a moment, the silence hangs heavy in the air. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and your pulse is still racing. You can feel the weight of your outburst settle over you, and with it comes a rush of embarrassment. I went too far, you think, your face flushing with heat. Why did I snap like that?

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure of how to backtrack. You don’t want Will to think you’re crazy or overdramatic. You don’t want him to see the anger you’ve been hiding inside. There’s a part of you that’s scared—scared that he’ll think you’re out of control, that your temper will scare him away. You’ve acted out before, not necessarily against him, but in other situations—like the time you yelled at a delivery driver for not getting your order right, or when you snapped at a friend for being late for dinner yet again. You’ve never meant for it to escalate like that, but sometimes it just does. And in those moments, you’ve always feared that maybe you were pushing people away, that your anger would be the thing that made them run.

You turn to Will, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath. The weight of your outburst hangs in the air, and as your gaze meets his, you see the concern in his eyes. But there’s no judgment. No frustration. Just quiet patience. His expression is soft, but it’s the kind of softness that says I’m here, that says he’s not going anywhere. You feel a rush of guilt settle over you—I’ve let it spill over on him, haven’t I? You’ve let your anger, all the tension that’s been building up all day, spill into this moment, and now you’re terrified that it’s too much—that it’s going to push him away.

Does he think I’m crazy? The thought hits you like a punch to the stomach, sharp and sudden. Is he scared of me now? You can’t help but wonder if the outburst was the tipping point, the moment when you’ve shown too much of yourself, the part of you that sometimes can’t control the frustration, the anger that rises when things go wrong. You’re scared that your inability to hold it together will drive him away, that he’ll see you in a different light—someone who’s too much to handle. Someone whose emotions are too intense.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. This is it. This is the moment he’ll get tired of me. He’ll realize I’m just too much, you think, the self-doubt spiraling. You want to take the words back, but you can’t, and the embarrassment surges so quickly that it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. You’re exposed, your vulnerabilities laid bare, and all you can do is stand there, wishing you could rewind time.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quieter now, cracking with guilt. You look down at the floor, your cheeks burning with the weight of your own self-criticism. You’re trying to hide the fear behind your apology, but it slips through anyway. The fear that he might look at you differently, the fear that this might be the end of whatever connection you thought you had. You just want to make it stop, want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I don’t know why I… I just get so mad sometimes,” you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. They feel jagged as they leave your mouth, like they don’t quite fit together. “It’s like I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the person who snaps over stupid stuff, who’s so easily frustrated, who…” You cut yourself off, the anxiety rising in your chest like a suffocating wave. You feel like you’re unraveling right in front of him, and the fear of pushing him too far makes it worse. You try to steady your breathing, but it feels impossible. You feel so small, like you’re asking him to forgive a part of you that’s too much to bear.

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect,” you whisper, the words hanging in the air between you, vulnerable and raw. You can’t meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. The silence that follows feels deafening, and you hold your breath, waiting for his response, praying that he won’t say what you fear. Am I scaring him? The thought repeats in your mind like a broken record, looping and looping until you can’t focus on anything else.

But instead of pulling away, instead of backing off, Will steps forward. Slowly, deliberately, his movements calm and sure. He doesn’t flinch or recoil. Instead, he closes the space between you, and his presence wraps around you like a warm, steady anchor in the storm. You feel a wave of comfort flood through you, but it’s mixed with confusion. You’re not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t this.

His hands come up to your shoulders, gentle but firm, guiding you to face him. The touch is grounding, like he’s silently telling you, I’m here. It’s okay. When you finally meet his gaze, it’s not with the eyes of someone who’s disappointed or unsure. It’s soft—full of something warm and understanding—and you feel the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crack. He’s not angry. He’s not scared. He’s just looking at you, you—the whole, imperfect person you are—and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, but reassuring. His words are steady, like he’s trying to calm the storm inside of you, one breath at a time. “Don’t apologize.”

You blink, your mind reeling, trying to process the unexpected kindness in his tone. “What?” It’s almost like you didn’t hear him right. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, and you can’t quite make sense of the shift in the atmosphere. He takes a small step closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek, the touch soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to reassure you with each gentle movement. It’s not rushed. It’s not hurried. It’s like he wants to make sure you feel the warmth of his words before they settle into your heart.

“You don’t need to apologize for being frustrated,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now. The sound of it is calming, like a steady hand on a wild horse. “You don’t need to apologize for being yourself.” He lets the words linger, and there’s a vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache. You want to believe him, but the self-doubt is still there, echoing in your mind. You open your mouth, ready to argue, but he gently stops you.

He continues, his thumb still brushing your cheek, the touch sending little sparks of warmth across your skin. “You don’t have to be perfect, and I don’t want you to think you have to be,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice wraps around you like a blanket. “I don’t need you to be calm all the time. I actually like how passionate you are.”

You blink, surprised by the honesty in his words. “How… passionate?” you repeat, the confusion lacing your tone.

Will smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, that softens the edges of his face. “Yeah.” He steps even closer now, his hand still resting on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. “How real you are. You’re not afraid to feel things, to speak your mind. And I… I think that’s kind of cute, honestly.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over your heart, sweeping away the panic and the constant whirl of self-doubt that had been tightening around you. For a moment, everything feels still, like the world outside the two of you has faded into the background. You blink rapidly, trying to process what Will just said, because it doesn’t quite make sense in the way you expected. He’s not frustrated. He’s not backing away. He’s not annoyed by your outbursts or the fact that you get worked up over things that, in hindsight, feel small. He’s actually telling you that he likes it.

The realization doesn’t sink in right away. There’s a part of you that wants to pull back, that wants to laugh it off, because it seems too good to be true. He can’t really mean that, you think, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he’s standing there, not only accepting your frustration but embracing it. The voice of doubt in your head is loud, but the tenderness in his eyes softens it. Slowly, you begin to believe him. Slowly, you start to feel the weight of his words.

“But I got mad over nothing,” you protest weakly, your voice uncertain, almost apologetic. The words stumble out, as if you’re trying to convince yourself that your feelings weren’t valid. “It’s just stupid little things. People being rude. Getting cut off in traffic. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of ticking time bomb who’s gonna explode over a coffee order or something.” You laugh nervously, but the underlying fear is still there—fear that your emotions, these raw outbursts, will one day drive him away.

Will chuckles softly, the sound low and comforting, and for a brief moment, you feel weightless, like his laugh is lifting you just enough to quiet the inner turmoil. It’s a small sound, but it’s full of warmth, full of a quiet reassurance that you weren’t expecting. He brushes his thumb over your cheek again, slow and deliberate, as if he’s trying to calm the last of your worries with the gentleness of his touch.

“Nah,” he says softly, his voice rich with sincerity. “It’s not like that.” He leans in just a little, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get why you’re frustrated. People suck sometimes. But honestly? I think it’s adorable when you get worked up over stuff like that. Especially when it’s because someone deserves it.” His lips curl up in a half-smile, one that makes you feel warm all over, like there’s no need to hide any part of yourself. “I don’t think you’re a ticking time bomb. I think you’re just… you. And I love that about you.”

His words wash over you like a balm, slowly soothing the wounds you didn’t even realize were there. The doubts that had been circling your mind—those fears that your temper might be something to be ashamed of, that you were somehow broken for being easily frustrated—begin to melt away. It’s hard to believe him at first, because you’ve been so used to apologizing for your imperfections, for the parts of you that don’t fit neatly into the boxes other people might expect. But with every word, every reassuring touch, the tightness in your chest loosens. You feel lighter, and with that lightness, a small, hopeful smile starts to form on your lips. Maybe I don’t need to apologize, you think. Maybe it’s okay to just be who I am.

“You think it’s cute?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and as soon as they leave your mouth, you can hear the disbelief in your tone. It’s almost like you’re testing him, like you want to see if he really means it, or if it’s all just some fluke. But the way he smiles at you—like he’s completely genuine, like he sees you with all your fire, all your frustration, and still wants to be close to you—makes the words feel a little more real.

“Yeah,” Will says, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “I think it’s cute when you stand up for yourself, when you don’t let people walk all over you. You get worked up over things that matter to you, and I respect that. It shows me how strong you are.” He steps closer, the space between you shrinking even more, like he’s making sure you understand how important this is. His voice softens, his gaze softens, and you can feel his sincerity in your bones. “I don’t want you to change.”

The weight in your chest finally begins to lift, slowly, as his words sink in deeper, melting away the remnants of your insecurity. For the first time, you start to believe him. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to be this way. Maybe your anger, your frustration, your passion—whatever it is—doesn’t need to be something you hide. Maybe it’s just another layer of what makes you you. Will doesn’t need you to change. He doesn’t need you to be calm or perfect all the time. He just wants you to be real.

Will steps closer again, his presence calming, pulling you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to fix anything. Instead, he wraps his arms around you in a slow, steady hug. It’s the kind of embrace that says I’m here without needing to say a word.

You let out a small, surprised laugh, a sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside of you. It’s light, unguarded, the kind of laugh that feels like a release. The tension from the day, from your earlier outbursts, begins to melt away. Maybe you’re not perfect. Maybe you don’t always know how to keep your frustration in check. Maybe you lose your cool over little things. But that’s okay. Because Will doesn’t need you to be perfect. He doesn’t need you to hold everything together. He just wants you to be the passionate, fiery person that you are. And somehow, that feels like enough.

As Will holds you, you feel something inside you shift—an understanding, a sense of peace. Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to apologize for feeling things deeply. Maybe it’s the way Will accepts you, flaws and all, without question. Whatever it is, it feels like a burden lifting off your shoulders. You don’t need to be anyone other than yourself, and for the first time in a long time, you’re starting to believe it.

[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!!!

[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.

[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.

[bitchinbarzal]

Can I get a little imagine about y/n going to watch Eklunds season debut? I’m literally so excited for todays game 🥰

You’d been buzzing all day, since he’d told you.

“Baby, you need to calm down!”

“I can’t! It’s game day, it’s sharks game day!”

At the game you sat in your seat bouncing your knee, yelling and cheering every time he stepped onto the ice.

During his solo lap you cried admittedly, facetiming his parents.

“Sweetheart, are you crying?”

“I’m just so proud of him”

When he got the assist on the first goal of the game you almost knocked over everyone drinks, screaming and cheering. A fan infront of you looked back, both annoyed and amused to which Alma smiled politely and said

“It’s her boyfriends first game, she’s just excited”

After the game, despite the loss you were still smiling.

“Why are You smiling, we lost?” William asks, approaching you after media and changing.

You hugged him, kissing his cheek “win or lose, that was your first freaking game dude! I’m so proud!”

He chuckles “I love you, my biggest fan”

“always, eklund”

[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."

[kentsjohnson91]

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!

[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.

[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.

[nhlclover]

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.

[777bae]

SAFE IN YOUR ARMS MACKLIN CELEBRINI

Summary :: Wrapped in Macklin’s warmth, sleep slowly pulls you under as his gentle touch soothes you. In this quiet, intimate moment, everything feels still, and you realize—this is exactly where you’re meant to be. (REQUESTED :: prompt 20)

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 1.0k

The soft glow of the lamp casts golden light across the room, painting everything in warm, muted hues. The world outside feels distant, muffled by the thick curtains drawn across the windows, shutting out the city’s restless hum. The quiet is a kind of comfort, a protective cocoon that keeps the chaos at bay. Inside, the air is warm and still, the only sounds coming from the low hum of music drifting lazily from the speakers and the occasional rustle of fabric as you shift.

It’s peaceful. Safe. A sanctuary carved out of the unpredictability beyond these walls.

You’re curled up against Macklin, your body tucked neatly into his side, fitting against him like a missing piece. His arm is wrapped loosely around you, his fingertips tracing slow, absentminded circles against your back, the motion lulling you into an almost dreamlike state. It’s such a simple touch—one you’ve felt countless times before—but there’s something about it tonight that feels different, like he’s anchoring you to the moment, keeping you close, as if he never wants to let you go.

Your book sits forgotten on the coffee table, pages splayed open where you left off, a story abandoned in favor of something much sweeter. You had been determined to finish it tonight, had stubbornly insisted that you weren’t tired, that you just needed “five more minutes.” But now, exhaustion has settled into your bones, turning your limbs heavy, your body slow and unresponsive to the world around you. Each blink lasts a little longer than the last, your lashes brushing softly against your cheeks, your mind slipping further and further into the pull of sleep.

Macklin shifts slightly, just enough to press his cheek against the top of your head. He’s warm—comfortingly so. The kind of warmth that seeps into your skin, that soothes something deep within you, making it nearly impossible to fight off the exhaustion pressing in from all sides. You breathe him in, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering on his hoodie, mixed with the faint, sweet hint of vanilla from the candle burning on the bookshelf. It smells like home.

Your body melts further into him, and you feel it the moment he notices. There’s a brief pause in the lazy motion of his fingers, a subtle change in his breathing, as if he’s savoring the way you instinctively lean into him, trusting him to keep you safe.

Then, his voice, soft and amused, breaks the quiet.

“You’re falling asleep on me, love.”

The words barely register, brushing against your skin like a whisper. Warm and low, laced with quiet affection. You want to respond—to insist that you’re still awake, that you’re listening, that you were just resting your eyes for a second—but the effort feels monumental. Even forming words feels like too much.

Instead, you manage a small hum of protest, nuzzling deeper into his chest, as if that alone will prove him wrong.

“I’m not asleep,” you mumble, but your voice betrays you, thick and slurred with exhaustion, barely above a whisper.

Macklin chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating beneath your cheek. You feel it more than you hear it—the quiet amusement in the way his body moves, the way his hand slows against your back before resuming its gentle motions. His fingers move upward, threading lazily through your hair, his touch featherlight as his thumb brushes against your temple in slow, soothing strokes.

“You are,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “But that’s okay. You’re safe here.”

That simple reassurance sends another wave of warmth through you, melting away the last remnants of tension in your body. You hum again, softer this time, a barely-there sound of agreement, of trust.

His touch remains steady, tracing patterns against your skin—thoughtless, effortless, as if it’s second nature. As if holding you like this is as easy as breathing.

Your breathing slows, syncing with his, your body instinctively matching the steady rise and fall of his chest. You’re caught in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, where the world feels distant and soft, where thoughts slip through your fingers like grains of sand. Time seems to slow, stretching out indefinitely, turning each second into something languid and unhurried.

There is no rush. No urgency. Just the quiet rhythm of your breaths intertwining, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped in each other, in the stillness, in the kind of peace that only comes with knowing you are exactly where you belong.

After a while, Macklin shifts just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head. It’s soft, barely there, the lightest brush of his lips against your hair—but it sends a quiet shiver down your spine. His voice is even softer when he speaks again, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re always so sweet when you fall asleep,” he murmurs. “You know that?”

You want to respond, but sleep is pulling you under now, heavier and more insistent, wrapping around you like a thick, cozy blanket. You manage a small, lazy smile, barely-there, but enough that he notices. His fingers continue their slow, lazy strokes against your skin, lulling you deeper and deeper.

Macklin exhales, a slow, contented sound, as if he’s drinking in the moment. His hand moves to rest over yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a steady, lazy rhythm. A silent promise. A wordless reminder that he’s still here, that he’s not going anywhere.

There is something so intimate about this—about the quiet trust that lingers between you, the way neither of you feels the need to fill the silence with words. You love this about him. How comfortable he is in the stillness, how effortlessly he makes you feel safe, without ever having to try.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognize the feeling curling deep in your chest—the quiet, unshakable certainty that you could stay like this forever.

Macklin lets out a breath, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly, as if he, too, is realizing the same thing.

“Sleep well, love. I’m right here.”

And as the world fades away, as sleep finally pulls you under, you believe him.

[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!!

[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.

[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.

[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

[httpuckdrop]

surprise! – ws2

in which will comes back from a road trip to the best surprise ever.

pairing: will smith x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship!au

word count: 1.5k

warnings: hmm suggestive mentions

author's note: aaaa will will will !!!! sped-wrote this on the subway to school today lmao. will will will <3 do well tomorrow pls <3<3(i will love you either way)<3<3 (oh and the tattoo pic is just for the location! couldnt find a pic for what i was looking for but i think you get it!!)

will has never been the biggest fan of surprises.

instantly, when he hears even the word "surprise", a lump forms in his stomach. he's far too used to bad pranks and letdowns; plus, he has a habit of feeling like he doesn't quite deserve the surprise he's given. in conclusion, he usually gently declines when offered a surprise.

however, the second his eyelids flutter open this morning, he sees the sweetest surprise he's ever gotten. it's you, laid in his bed, with your head on his pillows.

you weren't there when he went to sleep about seven hours ago.

will has just been away for a longer road trip, and the team was supposed to arrive back home yesterday evening – but their plane got delayed, and he couldn't get back to his apartment until well past midnight. he had to reschedule the welcome home-dinner to 24 hours later, and you'd told him that you had a busy day in uni and couldn't see him until then. needless to say, he had not expected to see you here and now.

there's no better view to wake up to, will thinks every time he finds you in his bed. your tousled hair on the pillow, your slightly parted lips, your rosy cheeks… you're something surreal, like a goddess sent from above, a true blessing to his life. he's never been so thankful for anything in his life.

his instincts take over and he can't hold back from reaching forward with his hand, letting the palm of his hand smooth over your cheek and jaw, before ending up at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your locks. he knows you're still fast asleep and he doesn't want to wake you – you've been working so hard recently that every hour is important – but he really can't stop himself from pulling your head closer, meeting you halfway and pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. as much as he regrets his actions when your eyes begin to open, he's also thankful because when those sweet pearls look into his eyes, a jolt of excitement shoots up his spine.

"will?" you ask softly, blinking as you regain consciousness.

he chuckles at this. "you're the one who came into my bed when i had no idea," he says with a grin. "i'm the one supposed to be confused here."

a giggle flies from your lips and your eyes flutter shut again. "touché." you lean forward a little, letting your face nuzzle into the skin of his neck. "but you've been gone so long… i barely even remember what you look like."

"guess we have to refresh your cute little brain, hm?" you feel his adam's apple bob when he speaks, and it makes you sigh from content.

he's actually here. he's back. back in your arms, in your eyesight, in your life.

life tends to get so bleak without him. or, maybe it's better to twist it the other way: everything gets so colorful with him. the gray skies, that boring bowl of yogurt for breakfast, the routine errands. with will, it's all so much more bearable. every day is full of excitement, warmth, love.

he reaches for your sides, big hands wrapping over your curves under his old boston college-shirt you're wearing. when you finally retrieve your face from his skin, he instantly captures your lips in a slow and lazy kiss. you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the softness of his strands between your digits, and oh how badly you've missed this. his curls, his lips, his skin. the tender touch of his fingers as they trail higher and higher, the little sounds of pleasure he's unable to hold back, the taste of his lips, his natural scent combined with the lemony detergent he uses on his bedding. it all takes over your senses; everything you can think, feel and breathe is him.

you push him onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips, though not once separating your lips from his. the kiss is soft and unhurried; his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart race. it starts out as a sweet, slow kiss but quickly becomes more heated and passionate the longer it goes on. you can already feel his excitement poke up at you from below, and you can't help but grind down ever so softly against him. he grunts against your mouth, his hands on your hips suddenly gripping a little tighter and helping you repeat the action as he deepens the kiss. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, meeting yours and you can swear you feel lightning pass through your body.

it takes everything you have to pull away. he chases your lips when you do, but your hands on his shoulders pin him back down against the mattress. "i have a surprise for you," you breathe out.

usually, those words trigger a certain type of emotion in him – but that's not the case when they fall from your lips.

will has come to learn that when you're the one who has a surprise for him, it's always good. well, everything that has anything to do with you is good, he thinks; but when it comes to you, he has a different type of trust. the words even bring a smile to his lips this time. "you being here is enough of a surprise," he says, though he doesn't mind the way you sit back. his eyes follow your every little movement carefully, eyes widening when you reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in just a white, lacy bra. it's not a new one – will has seen it plenty of times before – but it still has his heart racing. "well, i can't say i hate this type of surprise…"

you scoff at him and consider flipping him before you decide against it. instead, you let your hands wander to your back, unhooking the clasp and letting your bra slide down your arms and off your body.

will's breath hitches in his throat, and he finds himself wishing that time could pass by slower. he could spend all day just staring at your tits and not get bored for one second. his hands travel up from your hips, unable to think about anything other than feeling the softness of your skin, the bump of your nipples under the pads of his thumbs, the weight and roundness against his palms. unfortunately, you swat his hands away, sighing. "you can't be patient for just a second, huh?" you complain.

will just shrugs, hands wrapping around your waist again as he watches you throw the bra onto the floor. "you're just too-" he cuts himself off when you turn your upper body slightly, arms reaching over your head to give him a proper view of his surprise. "what the fuck…"

again, he can't hold back from touching you, but you don't stop him this time. his eyes have zoned in on the upper part of your ribs, right on the side of your breasts, where he sees it.

a little tattoo. #2.

he can't pull his reverent gaze from it, thumb brushing over the ink softly. it's easy to tell that about a million questions are swirling inside his little brain, but he settles for just a few. "a-are you kidding? how- you-" he stutters, looking like a toddler who's just seen a unicorn for the first time, and you're amazed that you could get this much of a reaction from just a little ink. "when did you get this done? how is it healed already? does this hurt?"

you giggle. "it's a little sore, but it doesn't hurt," you tell him. "you've been gone so long that i had plenty of time to get it done and let it heal. been dying to tell you about it- almost sent you pictures a week ago."

"good thing you didn't," he says, eyes flickering up to yours for just a moment before looking back down again. "i would've been an awful teammate. locked up in my room all the time… thinking about you even on the ice…"

he pulls you up a little so that you're seated on his stomach instead, just so he can tilt his neck up to press a kiss to the tattoo. a sigh leaves your lips and your eyes flutter closed.

"this is so fucking hot, you know that, right?" his lips brush against your skin again, very gentle since he's still a little scared of causing you pain, but he just can't stay away. "you're going to drive me crazy. i'm not sure if you'll ever be allowed to leave this bed."

"sounds fair to me."