#mc71

[ijustdontlikepeople]

Wacklins x Internet (a NHL x Internet Special Edition)

[missmaymay13]

worst kept secret - w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith x thornton daughter! oc | 8.5k

summary: When San Jose Sharks rookie Will Smith secretly starts dating Riley Thornton—daughter of Sharks legend Joe Thornton and housemate of teammate Macklin Celebrini—he thinks they’ve pulled off the ultimate stealth romance. With whispered rendezvous, late-night escapes, and a suspiciously dented bush, Will and Riley manage to keep their relationship under wraps from everyone… except, well, everyone.

masterlist

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The restaurant was dimly lit and tucked away off a quiet street in downtown San Jose, the kind of place where the lighting was low, the tables were close together, and the world outside felt like it didn't exist. Will reached across the small table, his fingers brushing against Riley's. "You know," he said with a crooked grin, "I still can't believe you picked this place. You're like, weirdly good at Yelp."

Riley smiled, her eyes glowing in the candlelight. "It's not that hard, Will. I just read reviews and don’t get distracted by places with giant burgers in the photos."

"But those are the best photos," he said, laughing softly. His fingers laced with hers under the table. "Six months of this and you still keep surprising me."

She tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Best thing," he said, his voice low. "By far."

They’d slipped into this bubble so effortlessly—soft smiles, shared bites of pasta, occasional brushes of knees beneath the table. No one in the restaurant knew who they were. No one cared. They didn’t have to watch their backs, or check if anyone was filming. It was rare.

Riley reached into her purse and pulled out a small, crumpled Polaroid. She passed it to him with a grin. "Remember this?"

Will looked down and chuckled. It was a blurry shot of the two of them from their first official date—him mid-blink, her laughing too hard to keep her eyes open. "You said this was too ugly to keep."

"It grew on me. Like you."

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, absolutely enamored. "You're gonna kill me one day."

They were halfway through dessert—splitting tiramisu, his fork always trying to steal from her side—when Riley suddenly froze. Her hand brushed against his wrist in warning. "Don’t look now, but... is that Eky and Fabes at the bar?"

Will’s smile dropped. "What? No way."

He tilted his head slightly, casual-like, and there they were—William Eklund and Fabian Zetterlund, both in jeans and button downs, standing at the bar like they owned the place.

"What do we do?" Riley hissed, pulling her hand back like it had been caught on fire.

"Shit, shit, okay... act normal. No—wait, don’t act normal. They know what normal looks like." Will scrubbed a hand down his face. "Do we have a back door?"

Riley peeked around, heart hammering in her chest. "Kitchen entrance. There—see the hallway by the washrooms?"

He nodded quickly. "Let’s pay and move. Fast."

They did their best to settle the bill without drawing attention, Riley ducking her head, Will sliding the cash across like he was in a spy movie. Then they stood, trying to move naturally, not too fast, not too slow, weaving toward the washrooms like they were just going for a stroll.

The kitchen door swung open. A server stepped out. Will grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her with him, slipping through just as it started to close. They burst into the steamy, bright chaos of the kitchen.

"Sorry! Just—emergency," Will muttered to a startled line cook, who blinked but said nothing.

Out the back door. Into the alley. Cool air hit their faces like a splash of water. Riley laughed as they ran, hand in hand, past the dumpsters and out to the parking lot.

They didn’t stop until they reached Will’s car, slightly out of breath, grinning like idiots.

"Okay," Riley said, hands on her hips. "That might have been the most stressful dessert I’ve ever had."

"That was so close," Will gasped, laughing. "You think they saw us?"

"No. I think we got lucky."

They stood there, caught in that in-between moment—adrenaline still buzzing, the quiet hum of the night settling around them. Will looked at her, really looked at her, and something in his chest cracked wide open.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words tumbling out with a kind of reckless honesty, like they'd been pacing behind his teeth for hours, maybe days. He hadn't planned to say it, not tonight, not like this, but in the hush of the parking lot, with her cheeks flushed from laughter and her eyes still wide from their shared escape, it felt impossible not to. It was as if the adrenaline cracked him open and the truth came spilling out, raw and real and totally unfiltered.

Riley blinked. Her lips parted. The world went still.

Then a soft smile crept across her face, eyes glimmering with warmth and surprise. "You do?"

He nodded, heart thudding in his chest. "Yeah. I—I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just… I do. I love you."

Riley stepped closer, her boots crunching softly against the pavement, and lifted her hand to his cheek. Her thumb brushed lightly over his skin, and her eyes didn’t leave his for even a second.

"I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with certainty. She watched his face as she said it, the way his eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and relief, and it made her heart squeeze.

"I’ve been wanting to say it for a while," she added, her lips curling into a shy smile. "But I didn’t want to freak you out."

He laughed softly, leaning into her touch. "You could never freak me out."

Riley’s fingers slid back into his hair as she pressed her forehead to his. "You’re stuck with me now, Smith."

"Good," he whispered. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

He kissed her then, gentle and full, like the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world blur into soft lights and distant sounds. It was the kind of kiss that spoke every word he hadn’t said yet, that carried the weight of six months of stolen moments, whispered jokes, and every time he’d had to pretend she wasn’t his in public. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, anchoring herself to him as if afraid this moment might vanish. His hands slid up from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, until there wasn’t a breath of space left between them. The kiss deepened—still tender, but charged with all the emotion they usually had to hide. It was slow, reverent, like they were both trying to memorize the way this felt, just in case they never got a moment like this again.

Behind them, a car door slammed. They broke apart instantly, heads whipping toward the noise. A couple exited the restaurant, laughing, not even looking their way.

"Close call number two," Riley whispered.

Will grinned, forehead pressed to hers. "Worth every second."

They kissed again, softer this time, and in that small pocket of the parking lot, hidden from everyone, it felt like the world had stopped just for them.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Will pulled up a few blocks from the Thornton house, headlights off, engine humming low, the street bathed in the warm amber glow of old-fashioned streetlights. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the cool breeze, and for a few extra seconds, neither of them moved. The night was too perfect, too quiet, too suspended in the afterglow of everything that had just happened.

Riley reached for her bag in the back seat, fingers brushing over the strap, but paused when Will gently touched her wrist. His hand lingered there, warm and familiar.

"Text me when you're in," he said, voice low and sincere, like he wanted to memorize every second of these last moments with her.

Riley smiled, leaning across the console so their foreheads touched. "I will. And if I get caught—"

He smirked. "You won’t. You’re too good."

"But if I do, at least it was after the best night ever," she whispered.

Will’s thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. "Still worth it."

She kissed him again—slow and lingering, a quiet promise—and then opened the door. The slam of it was too loud in the sleepy neighborhood. She ducked her head instinctively, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and waved as he eased away from the curb.

Before she could even tuck her phone into her pocket, it buzzed—FaceTime. Will.

She answered with a smirk. "You’re obsessed."

His face appeared on screen, grinning. "Just making sure you get to the door safe. Go on, I wanna watch."

"You are so dramatic," she muttered, but angled the camera to show her feet as she walked. "This is such boyfriend behavior."

"Good thing I’m your boyfriend, then."

She bit back a smile. The closer she got to the house, the more the butterflies stirred in her stomach. She turned the camera to her face when she reached the steps. "Happy now?"

Will grinned. "Very. Sleep tight, Ry."

"You too, Will."

She hung up but didn’t put the phone away. Not yet. The night felt like magic, and she wanted to hold onto every spark of it for as long as she could.

The second she stepped inside, the living room lights were on. Her dad was parked on the couch, headset on, controller in hand. Macklin was beside him, just as focused. Fortnite flashed across the big screen.

Joe paused the game the second he noticed her, his eyes narrowing with a sharpness that made Riley instinctively straighten up. His controller dropped onto the couch cushion beside him with a soft thud, and he pulled the headset down around his neck like a man about to conduct an interrogation.

"Hey," he said, but it wasn’t casual. It was the kind of 'hey' that carried weight, like a loaded question. "Where’ve you been?"

His posture shifted—arms resting heavily on his knees, shoulders squared, the full dad stare in effect. Riley knew that look. It was the same one he used when Macklin snuck into the pantry at midnight or when the boys forgot to rinse their gear after practice. Protective. Sharp. Borderline terrifying.

He glanced at the clock, then back at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "It’s almost midnight. You didn’t answer my last text."

"I was out with Grace," she said quickly, voice light, trying not to sound too defensive.

He arched a brow, not letting up. "Where exactly?"

"Mini golf. That new glow-in-the-dark place near the boardwalk. We’ve been planning it all week."

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at her. Searched her face. Not angry—just locked in full dad-mode. The kind where he didn’t need to raise his voice to make her squirm.

"You drive yourselves? Who else was there?"

Riley swallowed. "Just us. Grace drove."

He tilted his head slightly. "You usually let me know when you’re going out that far. What if something had happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said gently. "I’m fine."

"I know. I’m your dad, Riley. That’s kinda the point."

Macklin, still oblivious, chimed in with perfect timing. "Oh! I think Will went there tonight too. Said he had a date. Did you see him there?"

Joe’s head snapped toward Macklin, then back to Riley.

"No," she said quickly, clutching her bag tighter. "We must’ve just missed him."

Joe’s eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a line. Something about the way he looked at her made her wonder if she’d slipped up somehow.

Macklin groaned. "Dang. I was hoping you’d get a look at the mystery girl. He’s been so secretive about it."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before. "Yeah, that kid’s hiding something," he said, voice laced with amusement, but edged with something else—interest, suspicion maybe. He leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, like he was mentally running through the possible girls Will might be seeing. "Secretive little bastard. You’d think after all the hours he spends at the house, I’d get some intel." He smirked, then glanced sideways at Riley. "You ever notice him acting weird lately? I mean, weirder than usual?"

"Nope!" Riley forced a yawn. "Well, I’m exhausted. Night, boys."

"Night," they both mumbled, already back in the game.

She bolted up the stairs, praying her poker face had held up. But the second she opened her bedroom door, she jumped.

Her mom was sitting on her bed.

"Mom—"

"Hi, sweetie." Her mom’s voice was soft, but there was a sharpness in her eyes Riley knew all too well—the quiet kind of knowing that only mothers seemed to have. She patted the spot beside her on the bed, her posture calm, composed, almost too casual. "Sit," she said, but it wasn’t really a request. It was the same tone she used when Riley was five and tried to hide a broken vase behind the couch. That tone that said: I already know the truth, but I’m giving you one last shot to come clean.

Riley obeyed. Her heart raced.

"You were with Grace?"

"Yep. Mini golf. Then ice cream. Home now."

Her mom studied her. "Uh-huh."

Riley gave her best innocent smile. "She already texted you, didn’t she?"

"She did."

Riley exhaled. Nailed it.

But her mom kept looking at her, a knowing expression softening her features. The kind that said, 'You think you're being subtle, but I've been watching you since the day you were born.' Her eyes flicked down to Riley’s fingers still curled around her phone, then back up to her face, lingering just long enough to make Riley feel like a lie was scrawled across her forehead. She didn’t press, though—didn’t need to. Her silence was its own kind of interrogation, gentle but suffocating, wrapped in love and quiet judgment.

"You’re a little too good at that story," she said gently.

Riley opened her mouth to protest, but her mom just kissed her forehead.

"I won’t ask again. But be careful, okay?"

Riley nodded slowly. "Okay."

Her mom gave her a small smile. "Goodnight, baby."

"Night, Mom."

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Riley exhaled fully for the first time all night.

She grabbed her phone and texted Will one word: "Safe."

A second later: "Also, we’re SO bad at this."

He replied instantly: "Speak for yourself. I’m flawless."

She laughed into her pillow, heart full.

And somehow, even with the close calls, the hiding, the lies—it all still felt worth it.

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Saturday morning hit like a slap to the face.

The rink was humming with the usual buzz—music low, sticks tapping on the rubber flooring, the hiss of skate sharpeners and the occasional burst of laughter from the showers. But Will felt like he was walking a tightrope the moment he stepped into the locker room. He had barely made it to his stall and started unlacing his shoes when Macklin’s voice rang out.

"Yo, Smitty," Mack said from across the room, spinning a puck on his palm. "How was that glow-in-the-dark mini golf place? You said you were taking that girl last night."

Will froze for half a second. His fingers stuttered over his shoelaces before he forced a lazy grin and leaned back. "Oh—uh, yeah. It was... fine."

"Just fine?" Macklin raised an eyebrow. "That place is sick."

"Yeah, well, the date kind of sucked," Will said, trying to keep his tone casual. "She wasn’t really who I thought she was. We didn’t vibe. So I bailed early."

That answer seemed to satisfy Mack, who shrugged and went back to flipping his puck. But before Will could let out a breath of relief, Eklund and Zetterlund came strolling in, mid-conversation.

"I swear I saw his car last night," Eky was saying. "At that restaurant on Third—what’s it called, the Italian one? Real dark lighting, kind of bougie."

"Oh yeah," Fabes added. "That’s where I saw it too. You weren’t at mini golf, man."

Will blinked, caught like a deer in headlights. "No, yeah—I mean, I was. I just... went to get food after. Alone. That restaurant’s got good takeout."

"You got takeout?" Eky asked, suspicious. "You parked?"

Will nodded too quickly. "Yeah. It was late. I didn’t want to eat at home."

Fabian squinted. "You were there for like an hour."

Will’s palms started to sweat. "I was hungry."

The chirping started almost immediately—good-natured, but relentless. Macklin howled with laughter while Eklund clapped his hands like a game show buzzer had just gone off.

"So let me get this straight—you had a bad date, left early, then took yourself to a romantic candlelit restaurant for some alone time?" Eky asked.

"Inspiring," Fabes added. "Real commitment to the solo vibes."

Will rubbed his face. "You guys suck."

Just as the chaos was starting to calm, his phone buzzed in his open duffel bag. He reached for it instinctively and unlocked the screen.

At the top of the screen, glowing in bold letters, was a message from Lover 💫💛.

Will nearly fumbled the phone straight onto the floor.

"OHHHHHH," Macklin sang, his head whipping around. "Who’s Lover💫💛?"

Will scrambled to lock his screen. "Nobody. Just a friend."

"A friend who texts you at nine a.m. with heart emojis?" Eky grinned, voice sing-songy.

Macklin leaned forward like a bloodhound. "Wait—if your date was that bad, how come Lover💫💛 is texting you right now? You sure you bailed early?"

Will opened his mouth and closed it again.

And just then—like fate really had it out for him—Patrick Marleau walked into the room with a coffee in one hand and a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," he said offhandedly, clearly having caught the tail end of the conversation. "Smitty came in late last night. I think it was past one."

Silence fell over the room like a dropped puck.

Will stared at Marleau, who didn’t even blink as he walked past to grab some tape.

Eklund turned slowly toward him. "Late, huh? I thought the date was a bust?"

"I thought you went home," Zetterlund added.

Macklin was staring like he was trying to read Will’s mind. "Wait. Did you—did you go out again? With someone else?"

Will was desperate. He felt like he was being cornered by a pack of wolves.

"Yeah," he blurted. "Yeah, okay. After the first one flopped, I hit up someone else."

The boys erupted.

"PLAYER!" Fabian shouted, laughing.

"Damn, Smitty! The San Jose ladies aren’t safe!" Eklund whooped.

Macklin leaned back, his eyes wide. "Okay, now you have to tell us who it is. What’s her deal? Is she cute? Are you seeing her again?"

Will could feel his soul leaving his body. He gave a weak laugh. "Nah, I don’t think it’s going anywhere. Just... spur of the moment."

"Cold," Fabian said. "Ice cold."

They were still teasing him when the coach called them out onto the ice, but Will barely heard it. His brain was a mess. All he could think about was how badly this entire situation was spiraling.

And he still had to find a way to tell Riley.

Three days later, he did. Or rather—Riley found out before he could confess.

He was sitting in his car after practice, sipping a smoothie and scrolling through his phone when a text popped up.

Lover💫💛: should i be worried about my competition? 👀😏

Will stared at the message, groaned out loud, and dropped his head against the steering wheel.

Another text came through.

Lover💫💛: i hear there’s a mystery second girl 😱

Lover💫💛: should i be flattered or insulted that i didn’t make the story? 😂

Will quickly tapped out a reply.

Will: okay in my defense i panicked

Will: they cornered me and marleau BROKE THE CODE

Lover💫💛: lol i thought you were flawless?

Will: 😒 betrayal from within

Lover💫💛: don’t worry. you’re safe... for now. but if you EVER try to “spur of the moment” another girl, i will personally tell my dad everything

Will winced. He knew she would, too.

Will: you’re evil

Lover💫💛: and you love it 😇

He leaned back in his seat, a grin tugging at his lips despite the embarrassment still bubbling under his skin. Somehow, even in chaos, she made everything better.

But seriously—he had to work on his lying game. Or better yet, find a way to make it so they didn’t have to lie at all.

Someday.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

To say the plan was airtight would be a stretch, but Will and Riley had been playing this game long enough to know the drill.

Step one: lie convincingly. Riley told her family she was spending the night at Grace’s. It wasn’t even a big stretch; she’d stayed there before, and Grace had already been prepped to cover.

Step two: clear the house. Her parents and siblings—Alya and River—were off at the new movie everyone had been hyping for weeks, complete with dinner reservations after. Macklin, who was usually the wildcard, had texted earlier to say he had a date and wouldn’t be back until late. That was a win.

Step three: park Will’s car three blocks over, behind a long hedge on a side street where no one would look twice.

And step four: finally, finally relax.

They were curled up on Riley’s bed in her room—second floor, blinds drawn, lights low, the TV casting soft glows across the walls. Riley’s head rested on Will’s chest, his arm around her shoulders, thumb gently brushing her upper arm. They were on season three of New Girl, and while Riley adored the show, she could hardly believe that Will had been the one to suggest it.

“You’re seriously obsessed,” she teased, glancing up at him during a commercial break.

Will gave her a look that was part sheepish, part proud. “It’s elite television. Schmidt is a cultural icon. I don’t make the rules.”

Riley snorted. “You said you’d never seen it before we started.”

“I lied. I watched, like, four seasons in secret freshman year. Don’t tell anyone.”

She laughed, burying her face in his sweatshirt. “Your secret’s safe with me, Smitty.”

But before Will could come back with a sarcastic quip, the sound of the front door clicking shut echoed faintly from downstairs.

They both froze.

Will’s hand paused mid-circle on her arm. Riley sat up slowly.

“Did you—?”

“I definitely—”

“Someone’s home.”

Will was already moving, bolting upright and scrambling off the bed like a man in a spy movie. Riley followed, peeking out the window just in time to hear footsteps in the hallway.

Then: “Hey Ry!”

Macklin’s voice.

Crap.

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored and my date didn’t go well. Just another clout chaser. Oh—by the way, did you see that car down the street? Looks exactly like Will’s. Kinda sus, right? Oh and speaking of Will, did you know he loves to watch New Girl? Have you seen it? Should we try it tonight??”

Will, in the corner, was flailing silently. His mouth was open in horror, arms gesturing wildly in a panicked charade that screamed make him go away.

Riley’s eyes were wild as she pointed at the door. Macklin’s footsteps were getting closer.

Will mouthed, “DO SOMETHING!”

Riley threw her hands up and made a split-second decision.

As the doorknob began to turn, she shrieked: “MACK NO! I’M CHANGING—NAKED! I’M, UHH, CHANGING SO I’M NAKED. GIMME A SEC!”

The footsteps stopped. A beat of silence.

“Okay, sheesh,” Macklin said, unbothered. “I’ll be in the guest house. Gonna set up the show.”

They heard him shuffle away.

Will collapsed onto the floor, face buried in the carpet. “I’m gonna die. This is how I die. Heart attack at nineteen. Cause of death: panic.”

“We need to get you out,” Riley whispered, already scanning the room.

“I parked three blocks away, Riley. We’re upstairs. This house has like thirty windows. It’s a fortress of doom.”

They started whisper-arguing, huddled by her bedroom door, trying to figure out the logistics of sneaking Will out without Macklin noticing. Every creaky floorboard felt like a landmine.

Step by painful step, they crept down the staircase, Riley leading the way, Will behind her trying not to breathe too loudly. The house was mostly dark, save for the soft glow of a hallway lamp near the front. The stairs creaked ominously with every shift of weight, and both of them paused more than once, holding their breath at the slightest sound.

Halfway down, Riley whispered over her shoulder, “You’re walking like you weigh five hundred pounds.”

“I’m literally trying not to die,” Will hissed back.

They made it to the bottom without detection, dodging into the hallway beside the front door. Will wiped his palms on his jeans, adrenaline rushing like he was sneaking out of some high-security vault instead of a suburban house. He reached for the door—

Then the flash of headlights spilled across the foyer.

Riley’s breath caught. “Oh no. My dad.”

“What?!”

“I thought they were going to dinner after the movie!”

Panic overtook reason. Riley shoved Will toward the front door with surprising force.

“What are you—” he started.

“Just GO!” she hissed.

The door flung open and she practically launched him out onto the front steps. The sound of a car door slammed from outside.

Riley shoved him out the front door and directly into the massive hedge beside the porch.

There was a rustle, a yelp, and a very clear, “Son of a—Riley!”

“Shh!” she hissed. “Hide better!”

The front doorknob turned again and she slammed it shut behind her, bolting to the back of the house like a cartoon character. She sprinted across the yard and slipped into the guest house just in time to hear the front door open.

Inside the bush, Will sat hunched, tangled in twigs and half-covered in leaves. His hoodie had a stick poking out of the hood. A spider crawled up his sleeve. His entire body was buzzing with nerves, but all he could do was sit still.

He watched the Thornton family walk past the front foyer, chatting casually. Joe, Alya, and River. The coast was almost clear—

Until he looked up.

In the second-story foyer window, two faces were pressed against the glass.

River.

And Tabea.

Riley’s mom. Very observant. Very amused.

Tabea smiled, wide and smug, then gave a small wave. Her hand rotated into a ‘shoo, shoo’ motion. River, bless his soul, looked confused but entertained.

Will mouthed please no and Tabea just winked.

Humiliated, Will gave a tight, sheepish wave, rubbed the back of his neck, and started jogging toward his car.

When he finally reached it, he dove in like a man escaping war. His phone buzzed in the console.

From Lover💫💛: sorry for the bush shove 😂

From Lover💫💛:: also u screamed. not very stealthy of u

From Lover💫💛: but also you’re welcome. i saved your life

From Tabea: caught! lol. don’t worry i won’t tell 🤭

From Macklin: bro i’m watching new girl rn with Ry

From Macklin: SCHMIDT IS ELITE

Will leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned.

This was getting out of hand.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Riley had known this moment was coming.

The morning after the bush incident, she tiptoed into the kitchen like someone sneaking into a crime scene. The house was quiet save for the hum of the coffee machine and the low murmur of the morning news on the TV. She’d barely made it three steps inside before she saw her mom—Tabea—at the kitchen island, coffee in hand, reading glasses perched on her nose, the picture of calm but with that trademark glint of knowing in her eyes.

"Morning," Tabea said, without looking up.

Riley hesitated. "...Morning."

She tried to sneak past her like she was still twelve and hiding bad report cards in her backpack, but the moment she reached for the fridge, her mom spoke again.

"So," Tabea began, voice too casual, eyes still on her tablet. "How’s Will?"

Riley froze mid-step, one hand on the fridge handle, a flush of heat rushing up her neck.

"W-What?"

Her mom looked up then, eyes warm and full of mischief. "You know, Will. Will Smith. Hockey star. Hidden in my hydrangeas last night like a raccoon. That Will."

Riley groaned, slumping against the fridge door. "Oh my god. You saw that?"

"I saw the top of his head rustling like a cartoon. And so did River, by the way. You’re lucky your dad’s terrible with peripheral vision."

Riley buried her face in her hands. "This is so bad. I was gonna tell you, I swear. I just didn’t know how."

Tabea chuckled and got up to pour another cup of coffee. She handed one to Riley, nudging her gently toward the bar stools. "Relax, kiddo. I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m mostly impressed."

Riley blinked. "You are?"

Her mom nodded, sitting across from her. "Will’s a good guy. Polite, driven, respectful. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way you smile when you look at him. So... I approve."

Riley let out a long, relieved breath, slumping forward onto the counter. "I really thought you were going to ground me or something."

"Oh no, I’m saving the punishment for the part where you shoved him into a bush."

Riley winced. "Desperate times."

Tabea smirked. "You could’ve at least warned him first. I had to keep River from reenacting the whole thing with his ROBLOX this morning."

They both laughed. The tension that had been building in Riley’s chest for days melted a little, replaced by something warmer. The kind of warmth that came from knowing you weren’t alone in something complicated.

But then her mom leaned in, dropping her voice like she was revealing state secrets.

"Now, about your brother."

Riley groaned. "River saw too, didn’t he?"

"Saw and enjoyed the show. And you know that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially around Macklin. He worships that kid. One casual conversation and we’re all doomed."

Riley covered her face again. "I’m so doomed."

"Not necessarily," Tabea said, sipping her coffee with all the calm of a woman who had already played this game and won. "You just need to bribe him."

"Bribe an eleven-year-old?"

"Bribe him well."

Riley stared at her mom for a beat. Then she sighed. "I’ll figure something out."

—

Cornering River took strategy. He was slippery and fast, always bouncing from one obsession to another—video games, hockey, Macklin Celebrini. She caught him one afternoon post-practice, lounging on the couch in his Sharks hoodie and eating cereal while watching old Macklin highlights on YouTube.

"Hey Riv," she said, sliding in next to him with a smile she hoped looked friendly and not desperate.

"Hi," he said through a mouthful of Cheerios, eyes never leaving the screen.

She eyed him. "So. About the other night."

He paused mid-spoon.

"What about it?"

"You saw something."

River blinked innocently. "I saw lots of things."

Riley narrowed her eyes. "Bush. Boy. You know what I’m talking about."

He grinned slowly, the picture of smugness. "You mean when you shoved Will Smith into Mom’s hydrangeas?"

She slapped a hand over his mouth and looked around wildly. "Lower your voice!"

He pulled her hand off with a look of offense. "Relax. It’s just me."

"Exactly. And you’re the liability. So I need you not to tell anyone. Especially Dad. Or Macklin. Especially Macklin."

River gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back like a mob boss considering a deal. "Fine. I won’t say anything."

Riley’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank—"

"Under one condition."

She froze. "What?"

"You have to drive me to hockey. And whenever I want to go out."

She gaped at him. "Go out? You’re eleven. Where would you even go?"

"Not my problem," he said cheerfully. "Also—I want snacks on the way. Real ones. Not apple slices."

"I don’t drive!"

River shrugged. "You have a boyfriend who does. Figure it out."

Which is how, two days later, Will found himself in the driver’s seat of his brand new Ford Bronco with Riley in the passenger seat and River in the back, smug as ever, acting like he was royalty with state secrets locked behind his mischievous grin.

“Thanks for this,” Riley mumbled as Will pulled out of the driveway.

Will gave her a long-suffering look. “I am being blackmailed by a middle schooler.”

“Technically, we are.”

River leaned forward. “Can we get slushies after?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

And from that day forward, anytime Riley tried to skip out on a River-dropoff, he’d just send her a knowing look—the kind of look that said I know things. And every time, she’d shut up and climb into the car without protest. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why does Riley always get so quiet around River?” Alya asked once.

“She’s probably scared of his Fortnite kill count,” Macklin joked.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was a random Tuesday when it all started to unravel again.

Riley had stopped by the Sharks facility to drop something off for her dad—just a spare charger and a sweatshirt. She was walking through the hall when Mario Ferraro caught sight of her.

“Hey, Riley,” he said. “Your dad’s not in his office, but he’s around. Oh—hey, isn’t that Smitty’s sweater?”

Riley froze. She looked down.

It was a black hoodie. Very oversized. Subtle logo near the wrist. The number 2 printed faintly on the sleeve.

Crap.

“Oh,” she stammered. “No. It’s Macklin’s.”

Mario raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Thought he was wearing his black one today.”

“I mean—he has multiple. I think. Anyway—I gotta go!”

She speed-walked out of the hallway like it was on fire. Mario watched her go, eyebrows furrowed.

“...But there’s a number 2 on the hood,” he said to himself.

From that moment, the veterans on the team started watching more closely.

First it was the way Will smiled every time his phone buzzed. Like, grinned—soft and sweet in a way most of them had never seen. Then it was how he always had a smoothie on game days—one that conveniently matched the one Riley had in her hand when she stopped by. Not from the café near the rink either. From a place across the city. That took coordination.

There were bracelets—subtle, barely visible, but clearly matching. Hers had a tiny silver "W." His had a tiny letter “R.”

Then there were the glances. Not subtle ones. Full-on longing, heart-eyes, across-the-room movie magic nonsense. Like they forgot other people had eyes.

By the time the Sharks’ annual charity gala rolled around, most of the older guys already had their suspicions.

Will arrived in a deep maroon suit that looked like it belonged on the red carpet. Sleek, sharp, clearly not chosen last minute. Five minutes later, Riley walked in wearing a maroon dress—long, form-fitting, elegant as hell, the kind of dress that made people stop talking mid-sentence.

They didn’t arrive together. Didn’t touch once all night. They mingled like professionals, always in separate circles, but never out of each other’s line of sight.

But the veterans didn’t miss the matching colors. Or the way Will’s eyes followed her every time she walked past. Or the way she accidentally let a hand brush his arm when she slipped behind him to greet someone. Or how his smile lingered just a beat too long.

No one said anything. Not yet.

But the vets shared a knowing look. The kind that said: we see you. And now, it was just a matter of time.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

For a guy with killer instincts on the ice, Macklin Celebrini was alarmingly oblivious off it.

Will and Riley’s relationship had been going on for months now—hidden in plain sight, wrapped up in a string of inside jokes, soft glances, and near-catastrophic slip-ups. And while the veterans were beginning to connect the dots and River had them under playful blackmail, Macklin remained… blissfully unaware.

And that wasn’t for lack of opportunity.

It started on a quiet Thursday. The team had a rare off day, and Macklin, ever the extrovert, found himself bored and wandering. He decided to swing by the Marleau house, figuring Will would be around to kill time with him. Patrick opened the front door with a warm smile, still in his Sharks hoodie and holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey, kid. You looking for Will?”

Macklin nodded. “Yeah, just bored. Thought I’d come hang out. He around?”

Patrick shook his head, casual as ever. “Nah, he didn’t tell you? He’s out. Said he was going to see that new Marvel movie—something about Captain America or whatever. Seemed pumped.”

“Oh,” Macklin said, brows lifting. “Nice. I asked Riley if she wanted to do something earlier too, but she said she already had plans to go see that same movie.”

Patrick blinked, then shrugged. “Must be popular.”

“Guess so,” Macklin said, scratching the back of his neck. “Weird coincidence.”

And that was it. That was all he thought of it. Not that Will and Riley were together. Not that they were probably sitting side-by-side in the back row sharing popcorn and whispering their favorite lines. No, to Macklin, it was just a fluke in timing and taste.

Then there was the ring incident.

A week later, the two of them had carpooled to the arena for morning skate. Will was driving, music playing low, windows cracked to let in the cool air. Macklin had tossed his gear in the back and hopped in without a second thought.

They were halfway through traffic when Macklin reached down to adjust his seat and noticed something glinting in the cup holder.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a small gold ring with a delicate pearl in the center.

Will swerved slightly.

“Whoa,” Macklin laughed. “Dude, relax. Is this Riley’s?”

Will’s mouth opened and shut. Then opened again. “Uh—yeah. Kind of. She, uh, she dropped it at a team thing. I think. I told her I’d get it back to her, but I keep forgetting.”

Macklin frowned, rolling the ring between his fingers. “We haven’t had a team thing in, like, two weeks.”

Will nodded far too quickly. “Yeah, no—I mean, it was more of a small one. Not everyone was invited. Kinda like a mini-meeting. Media stuff. You know how it is.”

Macklin looked confused but shrugged. “Weird. She wears this thing everywhere.”

Will let out a nervous laugh. “She’ll get it back. Promise.”

Macklin didn’t question it again. Just handed the ring back and cranked up the volume on the music like the whole conversation never happened. Will spent the rest of the drive silently cursing every decision that led to this moment.

But the worst—the absolute worst—slip-up happened two weeks after that.

It was a chill Friday night, and Eklund, Zetterlund, and Macklin were out grabbing food at a little bar-restaurant combo downtown. Will had been invited, obviously, but he’d sent a last-minute text: Rain check. Something came up.

Typical.

They were just settling into their booth when they caught sight of a figure bolting past the restaurant’s wide glass windows—a blur of motion, tall and fast and laughing under his breath.

“Was that—” Eklund leaned forward.

“Will?” Zetterlund finished.

The figure paused just long enough at the edge of the frame, hoodie half-zipped, signature gait unmistakable. And beside him, a girl with long, bright blonde hair, wrapped in a long coat and moving just as quickly.

Macklin squinted. “Looks like him. Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

Zetterlund and Eklund shared a look.

“Could’ve sworn that was his hoodie,” Eky said.

Fabes nodded. “And isn’t that Riley’s hair color?”

“She said she was busy tonight with Grace,” Macklin added helpfully, sipping his Sprite. “Probably wasn’t her.”

The other two just looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Zetterlund said slowly. “Probably not.”

The next morning, Riley showed up at the practice facility. Hair in a loose braid, sweatshirt tied around her waist, sipping from the exact smoothie shop she and Will had made their thing. She stopped by her dad’s office like usual, waved at the media crew, and paused to say hi to the players.

Eklund and Zetterlund were in the locker room when she passed.

Zetterlund turned to Eklund. “That was her.”

“Definitely.”

“She was with Will.”

“Yup.”

“Think Macklin’s figured it out yet?”

Eklund looked over at Macklin, who was humming a random tune while trying to juggle two tape rolls and a stick.

“Not even close.”

They shared a long, amused silence.

“Should we tell him?” Fabes asked.

Eky shook his head. “Nah. Let him figure it out.”

And so the chaos continued. Riley and Will, dancing the thin line between secrecy and exposure. Macklin, somehow always inches away from the truth, but never quite stepping over the line.

If anything, it had become a game.

A very stressful, heart-palpitating, constantly-about-to-get-caught game.

But it was kind of fun. Kind of thrilling. And at the very least—it gave Will and Riley stories they’d laugh about later. Assuming Macklin never figured it out first.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Will really thought he was slick.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when he pulled up to the Thornton house. He double-checked the text Macklin had sent earlier—something about being with family out of town for the weekend. Perfect. No risk of Macklin chaos. The plan? Play it casual. Say he dropped by to hang out. Kill time in the basement with Riley like they always did when Mack was around. Same story, different day.

He parked across the street like he usually did, tucked a little too close to the neighbor’s curb. It had become a routine by now: park out of view, sneak in, spend the afternoon curled up with Riley watching some Netflix series they’d sworn they wouldn’t binge without the other.

He knocked once before letting himself in, greeted only by the faint sounds of a hockey game playing in the living room. Joe was there, lounging on the couch in sweats, phone in one hand, remote in the other.

Will stepped inside, trying to keep his voice even. “Hey, Joe. Just came to see if Mack was around. Thought we’d hang out.”

Joe didn’t even look up. “Mack’s out of town. With his mom for the weekend.”

“Oh. Right. Uh—yeah, sh-shoot. Maybe I’ll just hang out with Riley for a bit. Maybe go watch that new movie in the basement.”

Joe nodded once, barely reacting. “Sure.”

Will turned toward the stairs, internally patting himself on the back for a smooth entry—when Joe’s voice rang out again.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, still staring at his phone, “I got a text from the neighbor. Said if you’re gonna park across from his house every night to drop Riley off, maybe don’t keep driving over his curb.”

Will froze mid-step.

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I—uh—”

“I mean,” Joe continued casually, “I don’t know why you keep parking there, kiddo. We have a driveway. Pretty sure it would save you the trouble of Ry having to walk down the street late at night.”

Will blinked. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. It was like his brain had short-circuited and all he could do was stand there, staring at Joe with full-on deer-in-headlights panic.

Still, Joe didn’t look up.

“Oh, and,” he added, almost offhandedly, “Tabea says you’re helping her fix the dent you left in the front bush.”

Will’s heart fell into his stomach, ice flooding his veins like he’d just missed an empty-net shot in overtime. He stared at Joe, frozen, every nerve in his body screaming. “You… you know?”

Joe finally glanced up. His smirk was infuriatingly calm. “Will. You and Riley are the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

Will gaped. “But—we’ve been so careful.”

Joe snorted. “Careful? You sneak in like it’s Mission Impossible, leave hoodies in our daughter's room, park in the same exact spot every night, and whisper to each other like the walls aren’t made of drywall.”

Will sank onto the nearest armchair, rubbing his face. “Oh my god.”

Joe chuckled, setting his phone down. “Look, I’m not mad. You’re a good kid. I’ve seen the way you treat her. You two think you’re fooling the world, but you’ve been fooling exactly one person. And that’s Macklin. Which, I mean—God love the kid, but let’s be honest…”

Will groaned. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re just young,” Joe said, leaning back. “But not an idiot. You’ve been respectful, you’ve been kind, and as far as I can tell, you make her happy. That’s what matters.”

Will looked up, still shell-shocked. “So… you’re okay with it?”

Joe shrugged. “You’re not sneaking around anymore. That’s the only thing I care about. If you’re gonna be around this house, we do it the right way. None of this back-door, bush-diving, parking-sneaky nonsense.”

Just then, Riley came down the stairs with a bounce in her step, clearly unaware of the conversation she was walking into.

“Hey, Dad. Hey, Will. Ready to—” She stopped when she saw the expression on Will’s face. “What happened?”

Joe stood up, stretching his arms. “Ry, why don’t you help your mom set the table? Your boyfriend will be joining us for a proper dinner where we talk about the new rules in the house with you two.”

Riley’s face drained of color. “You what?”

Joe was already heading toward the kitchen. “Come on, Ry. Chop chop.”

She turned to Will, wide-eyed. “What did you do?”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t do anything. He knew. He knew all along.”

They stared at each other in stunned silence, the weight of Joe’s words still settling like bricks on their shoulders. Will looked like he’d been hit by a puck to the chest, and Riley’s jaw was practically on the floor. Then, from the kitchen, Joe’s voice floated back in—bright, amused, and far too cheerful for the emotional damage he’d just caused.

“And Will, no more parking like a lunatic, alright? The neighbor’s this close to leaving a note.”

From the kitchen came the clatter of plates and a soft burst of laughter. Tabea’s voice rang out: “You owe me a new hydrangea bush, Smith!”

Will slumped deeper into the couch. “They’re enjoying this way too much.”

Riley nodded slowly. “So much for thinking we were subtle.”

And as they shuffled toward the kitchen for what was now officially the most awkward dinner of their lives, they were met with two smug parents and the smell of garlic bread.

“You know,” Tabea said as she handed Riley a stack of plates, “we were going to let it slide a little longer. But you two just made it too entertaining.”

Joe raised his glass with a smirk. "To the world’s worst secret relationship. Honestly, we didn’t even need to see you look at each other anytime Will was around." He chuckled, setting his drink down. "Patty actually tipped us off a while ago. Said he kept noticing Will coming in late—like really late—and every time, it lined up with when Riley was gone with "Grace". Then there was Ry moping around the house during road trips, then suddenly perking up the second you were home again. Tabea and I figured it out way back and decided to just sit back and enjoy the show. Honestly? It’s been hilarious."

Will groaned into his hands.

Riley looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.

And yet—somewhere between the teasing, the garlic bread, and the new house rules (which included, notably, no more hiding in bushes), it didn’t feel all that terrible.

It felt… kind of nice.

Because now, they weren’t sneaking. They weren’t hiding.

They were just Will and Riley.

And finally, everyone knew. Well—except for Macklin. But that was a problem for another day.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was a sunny, chill kind of afternoon—exactly the type that screamed off-day energy. The Marleaus were hosting one of their classic post-road-trip lunches. Nothing fancy. Just family, a grill on the deck, a few dogs sprinting through the backyard, and a healthy dose of hockey players lounging on patio chairs like exhausted golden retrievers.

The Thorntons were there too, all four of them. Joe had brought wine, Tabea brought a massive pasta salad, and Riley… well, Riley brought Will. Though technically, Will had come from upstairs—he was still living with the Marleaus as part of his billet arrangement, which made this whole inter-family hangout even more chaotic in retrospect. Because after Joe’s legendary reveal, the sneaking had officially ended. Everyone knew they were together. And since then, the couple had settled into a casual comfort that radiated through every room they walked into.

Everyone knew.

Well.

Almost everyone.

Because somehow—somehow—Macklin Celebrini still hadn’t figured it out.

They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. Riley and Will were curled up together on the Marleaus’ living room couch, his arm slung over her shoulder, her feet tucked beneath her. They were talking to Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner, who had dropped by while the Leafs were in town to visit the veterans and their families.

Auston greeted the Thorntons warmly, hugging Riley like she was a younger cousin. Mitch followed suit, ruffling River’s hair and grinning.

“So, Jumbo,” Mitch said as he plopped down across from Joe, already grinning, “I gotta know. How were you so chill when you found out Smitty was dating Riley behind your back?”

There was a pause.

A brief, flickering silence.

And then Macklin, who had been mid-bite of his sandwich, laughed.

“What?” he snorted. “What do you mean? Will and Ri—”

He stopped.

The laughter died in his throat.

He looked around the room.

At Will, who had the decency to freeze mid-sip of his drink.

At Riley, who looked down at her lap, trying to suppress a smile.

At the rest of the room, which was suspiciously quiet.

Macklin’s eyes darted from face to face.

Joe.

Tabea.

Patrick.

Auston.

Mitch.

Everyone was looking at him with the exact same expression: mild amusement and a you just now figured this out? glint in their eyes.

He turned slowly, finally letting his gaze fall on Riley and Will.

Riley had leaned into Will’s side, her hand resting on his knee. They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

“What…” Macklin started slowly. “WHAT?!”

His voice cracked with genuine disbelief. “No. No. You’re kidding. This is a bit, right? This is one of those inside joke things I’m just not in on. Will and Riley?”

Will gave him a small wave.

“Hi.”

Riley smiled apologetically. “Hey, Mack.”

“No. No way. I live with you, Riley. And Will, you’re my best friend. There’s no way you could’ve been together this whole time without me noticing. I would have known! I’ve walked into the kitchen and seen you two sitting on the same side of the table—I just thought you were bad at spacing! You guys always claimed you were just watching TV and, like, sharing smoothies. But we all share smoothies! Or at least—I thought we did! Was I the third wheel in my own house?!”

Auston choked on his drink.

Mitch doubled over laughing.

“Dude,” Patty wheezed from the other side of the room. “Come on.”

“You mean to tell me,” Macklin said, pointing between them, “that this has been happening under my nose for MONTHS?! And all those girls Will was supposedly going on dates with? The ones he said never worked out because they were ‘too loud’ or ‘didn’t vibe’? THAT WASN’T REAL? And the contact in your phone labeled ‘Lover’ that we all joked about??”

Will coughed. “Yeah… that’s always been Riley.”

Macklin looked like he was short-circuiting. “I made fun of you for weeks about that contact name and you didn’t say anything??”

Will shrugged helplessly. “I thought you were kidding. And technically, you weren’t wrong.”

Joe leaned over, clapping Macklin on the back. “It’s okay, kiddo. I told Will I approved as long as he promised to stop hiding in our bush.”

Macklin’s jaw dropped. “The bush?? You mean—that bush?”

Tabea nodded sagely. “It was a tragic loss. Hydrangeas never recovered.”

“I—HOW DID I MISS THIS?” Macklin yelled, standing now, arms flailing as he began pacing the room. “You were literally in our house all the time. I thought you just liked dinner a lot! I thought you liked hanging out with me a lot!”

Riley was giggling now, hiding behind Will’s shoulder.

Will was bright red.

Joe was openly enjoying this far too much.

“And the smoothies! The matching bracelets! The way Will would blow us off during off days!”

“Honestly, I thought you had figured it out like, ten different times,” Fabes said from the armchair.

“Same,” Eky added. “But then you just… didn’t.”

“I’m so dumb.” Macklin groaned, dropping back onto the couch and putting his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this. You were RIGHT THERE. ALL THE TIME.”

Tabea passed him a lemonade. “You’re not dumb, Mack. Just… sweetly oblivious.”

Will leaned forward. “You okay, buddy?”

Macklin peeked through his fingers. “No. I need a second to grieve the trust I thought we had.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Riley said, still laughing.

“I’m allowed! I feel betrayed! You guys made me sit through so many awkward movie nights and I thought it was just the vibes being weird. You were probably playing footsie under the blanket!”

They absolutely were.

Joe raised his drink. “To Macklin. The last to know. But still very much loved.”

Everyone clinked their glasses, grinning.

And Macklin, despite himself, smiled too.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But like… just tell me next time, okay? I can keep a secret. I swear.”

Will and Riley exchanged a look.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Macklin muttered. “Fair.”

[43luv]

alr pack it up frat boys

[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.

[toasttt11]

back together

summary: rushing to see her after being gone for awhile

request:“Oh god, it’s been such a hard day. I missed you so much.” "Cuddles cuddles cuddles." "Come here, let me take care of you."

macklin celebrini x reader x will smith

“Can you drive any faster.” Macklin whined to his boyfriend wanting to get to their girlfriend’s apartment.

“Mack i’m literally driving the speed limit.” Will deadpanned not even giving Macklin a glance making Macklin pout even more.

“Well hurry up.” Macklin snipped crossing his arms dramatically.

Will fondly rolled his eyes not taking Macklin’s snip to heart knowing they both missed her like crazy after being on a road trip.

Will parked in her parking garage and grabbed Macklin’s sleeve before he could rush out, “Don’t leave me with the bags.” Will gave him a knowingly making Macklin groan.

Macklin helped Will grabbed their bags and they headed up to her apartment, they were coming straight from the airport.

Will unlocked the front door and Macklin rushed in first immediately dropping his bags and rushing towards the kitchen seeing her.

Macklin crashed into her hugging her tightly burying his face in her side, “Oh god, it’s been such a hard few days. I missed you so much.” Macklin mumbled and let out a happy sigh as she was hugging him back and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I missed you too.” She softly mumbled back, it was a bit harder on her when the boys are gone because she was alone and they had each other, “Both of you.” She looked over at Will as he walked in and she held out a hand for him.

Will walked over grabbing her hand and hugging her from her behind as Macklin was hogging her side and front, “Missed you.” Will whispered against the back of neck pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

She tiled her head back pressing her lips gently to his making Will hum and softly kiss her back.

Macklin was so focused on cuddling to her he didn’t even notice they were kissing, if he did notice he would have complained that he wanted kisses too.

Macklin started talking quietly telling her about things during their road trip, even if the boys both definitely told her everything on facetime.

Will piped in every once in awhile, whispering against her neck as she played with both of their hair feeling so content being hugged by her boys.

Macklin looked up his chin resting on her chest as he looked at her with a pout, “Kiss?”

She smiled amused and cupped his cheek leaning to him and kissing him, Macklin let out a happy sigh against her lips and eagerly kissed her back trying to make up for all the lost kisses over the last week.

Will just watched the two with a fond look and started yawning as he was exhausted.

She pulled away from Macklin feeling Will’s yawns, she rubbed her thumb gently across Macklin’s lips seeing him pout that she stopped kissing him, “Come on we have cuddles to catch up on.”

Her words made Macklin perk up and he quickly started pulling the two to her room making them share a fond expression.

Macklin was ready for bed first and turned his white noise machine and got into bed waiting on his side.

She was in bed next and laid down in the center of the bed as Macklin immediately cuddled to her side as her arm draped over his back.

Will was rubbing his eyes softly looking exhausted as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Come here baby, let me take care of you.” She softly patted the spot next to her, Will’s side.

Will smiled a bit and padded over getting into her bed on his side and rested his head on her chest next to Macklin’s head and immediately let out a happy sigh as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and than his nose.

And finally she pressed a soft kiss to Will’s lips before pulling back and pressing a couple more gentle soft kisses to his forehead and playing with blonde curls.

She could feel Will melting into her and glanced down seeing the boys holding hands as her other hand was mindlessly lashing with Macklin’s hair.

Will was out within a few minutes and once he fell asleep she turned her attention to Macklin, who for once was waiting patiently knowing Will needed the attention too.

Macklin let out happy little sighs as she gently kissed across his face.

“Love you.” She softly mumbled against Macklin’s forehead as he was falling asleep and he sleepily mumbled it back.

She pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead mumbling the same thing before resting her head on Will’s head and letting her eyes close as she started falling asleep with her two boys back in her arms.

[formulanni]

Swimming with the Sharks

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009 @korolrezni-nikolai @d00dlespng

[pixeliiiii]

sleepover squad!!!

[softsunnyy]

just pure love for mack.

🚨 nothing, just pure fluff and thoughts about starting a family with him in the future 🚨

if you're new, this is always poorly written

Macklin is usually sweet, you know that. Everyone has seen him laugh and smile so big, always with you or Will. However, this is completely different, it's like another level.

your heart is beating so fast, you feel like you could scream into a pillow at the sight you're seeing, and for a moment you forget how young you are, how young Macklin is, how your lives are just beginning, just forming.

his gloves fell to the ice, as did his stick. Luke in front of him did the same, and the two began to “fight”. Macklin pretended to hit him, crouching down to his level, growling, laughing, putting on a show for the little boy who was fulfilling his dream of meeting him.

you watch that show, and everything feels right. People are smiling, even laughing, and his teammates join in when Macklin lifts his little jersey.

when they go to the penalty box, you see him joking around, teasing the little boy. And when they pick up the pucks together, you see him pretending that they're too heavy, that he needs his little help to carry them.

and Macklin has always been sweet, but seeing him laugh so loud, around children, so close to Luke, is like another part of him unlocks, and your mind starts to think, to imagine.

and you feel so lucky for every day you spend with him, no matter the defeats, the moments when he gets stressed or when he acts more serious. Every day you can see him smile, you can hear his voice. Every day he wants to talk to you, and he gives you butterflies, like the ones the books described when you were just a little girl.

and before, you didn't even need to see him with children to know that he'll be a good father in the future, but this? the way he does it so smoothly, how it doesn't feel forced, how he manages to connect with the little ones, how they like him. Seeing how he's a role model for them, their model of how they wanna be.

you know Macklin will be perfect, and that your kids will adore him.

god, everyone adores him; it's impossible not to.

and they don't even see the more intimate part, like when you get home together, and after eating, you lay down on the couch, trying to watch a movie, until he starts talking, recapping the day, telling you things from his perspective. And you see his eyes sparkle, his smile appear, his tone much softer. He laughs, trying to tell you about his fight with Luke. And lying on your chest, everything seems so much sweeter, perfect, gentler.

they don't see how he sighs, talking about how adorable Luke is, and how honored he feels to have been part of this experience. They don't see how he gets emotional thinking that before he was just a kid, who had idols, goals, who saw everything differently, and now he's the one who can make a kid's day so much better, even when their lives are difficult and he doesn't know them that well.

they don't see what you see, and yet they adore him, accept him, have faith in him, and begin to have faith in the team.

so what can you expect from yourself?

you just sigh, listening to him speak, feeling the warmth inside you knowing you're with the right guy, someone who will love not only you but also his future family one day, doing what he does best outside of hockey.

being the sweetest boy in the world.

[777bae]

SPICY MACKLIN CELEBRINI

Summary :: A spicy noodle challenge goes horribly wrong when you and Macklin underestimate the heat. He laughs at your suffering—until karma quickly hits. Cue panicked water chugging, ice cube hoarding, and a fiery regret neither of you will forget.

Notes :: Came up with this idea after trying some spicy pot noodles with my friends and all of us literally DYING

Warnings :: reactions to extreme spice

Word count :: 1.2k

The moment you placed the ominous, bright red packet of Buldak noodles onto the kitchen counter, Macklin eyed it with the mix of amusement and apprehension usually reserved for people watching a horror movie, knowing something bad was about to happen but unable to look away.

“You sure you can handle this?” he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His lips curled into a teasing smirk, his dark eyes filled with mischief.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you reached up to grab a pot from the cabinet. “It’s just noodles. How bad can it be?”

Macklin let out a skeptical hum, shaking his head. “I don’t know… I’ve seen some people lose their minds over this stuff.”

You shot him a look as you filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove. “I’m not ‘some people.’ I have a respectable spice tolerance, okay?”

Macklin didn’t even bother hiding his grin as he grabbed his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe before positioning it against a stack of cookbooks on the table. “Yeah, yeah, sure. But if—and I mean when—you start crying, I wanna make sure we capture it in 4K.”

You glared at him playfully as he adjusted the angle, making sure the camera had both of you fully in frame.

“If we’re gonna do this, we might as well document it,” he said with a grin, pressing record.

The water in the pot reached a rolling boil, and you tore open the noodle packet, dumping the tightly wound coils into the bubbling water. As they softened and unraveled, you pulled out the sauce packet—thick, dark red, and positively menacing.

Macklin whistled low under his breath. “That looks like something a cartoon villain would drink for breakfast.”

You ignored him as you cut open the packet and squeezed every last drop into the pot, stirring the noodles until they were thoroughly coated in the fiery liquid. Almost immediately, the spicy fumes hit your nose, making your eyes sting slightly.

You blinked. “Okay, wow, this smells kinda… dangerous.”

Macklin leaned in for a whiff and recoiled so fast he nearly knocked over the phone. “That is not normal.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, waving off his concern as you grabbed two bowls. “We got this.”

Famous last words.

Once the noodles were plated, you both took a seat at the table, chopsticks in hand, bowls still steaming like they had been cooked in the depths of hell. The little red light on the camera blinked steadily, recording every moment for posterity—and, more likely, for your eventual humiliation.

“Alright,” Macklin said, lifting his chopsticks and pointing them at you. “No wimping out. We eat at the same time.”

“Deal,” you agreed, mirroring his stance.

With synchronized determination, you both lifted a hefty bite to your mouths, the glossy red noodles glistening under the kitchen lights.

At first, it was fine. More than fine, actually.

The sauce was rich, packed with flavor—a little smoky, a little sweet, and pleasantly warm on your tongue. The noodles had a great texture, chewy and satisfying.

“Oh, this is actually really good,” you said, chewing happily.

Macklin nodded, swallowing his bite with ease. “Yeah, I don’t know why people freak out so much about—”

And then it hit.

It started as a slow burn, like a tiny ember sparking to life at the back of your throat. Then, within seconds, that ember grew into an uncontrollable wildfire, spreading rapidly across your tongue, up your sinuses, and down your throat.

Your breath caught instantly. Your eyes widened. Your lips tingled.

It was as if you had swallowed molten lava, and it was now making itself at home in every corner of your mouth.

Your fingers twitched.

Your whole body suddenly felt too warm.

You dropped your chopsticks onto the table with a clatter. “Oh my God.”

Across from you, Macklin let out a loud, exaggerated cackle, his whole face lighting up with amusement. “Oh, come on! No way! You’re already struggling?”

You frantically flapped your hands in front of your face, as if that would somehow cool down the inferno inside your mouth. Your tongue felt like it was pulsing. Was that normal? Probably not.

“This is—this is a mistake—” you wheezed.

Macklin leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Look at you! You’re literally sweating.”

“I am not sweating,” you shot back, even though, yes, your forehead was beginning to glisten suspiciously. “It’s just—you wouldn’t understand, your taste buds are probably dead from all the disgusting hockey locker room food you eat.”

Macklin let out an obnoxiously loud, exaggerated laugh, the kind that made you want to reach across the table and shove his noodles straight into his smug mouth. “Excuses, excuses. Face it, babe, you’re weak.”

But then—mid-laugh—his face changed.

The amusement in his eyes flickered out like a candle in the wind. His expression twisted from smug satisfaction into pure, unfiltered panic.

Midway through inhaling, he suddenly jerked forward, his chest convulsing as his air supply betrayed him.

“Oh—oh no—”

You barely had time to register his distress before he made a strangled noise, his mouth falling open in sheer horror. His hands flew to his throat as if he were physically trying to claw the heat out of his body.

“IH-HOH MY GOD—”

You wheezed out a laugh, though it immediately turned into a violent cough as the spice continued to set your throat ablaze. Macklin, meanwhile, had fully lost control. He shoved his chair back so suddenly that it nearly toppled over, his hands flying to his temples as he began pacing around the kitchen like a man who had just seen his life flash before his eyes.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” he choked out, his voice an entire three octaves higher than normal.

You weakly slapped the table, struggling to breathe through the pain and laughter. “I—it’s—” You couldn’t even get words out.

Macklin stumbled towards the table edge like a man seeking salvation. “WATER.”

“WATER,” you echoed desperately.

At the exact same moment, you both lunged forward, snatching your glasses off the table and chugging the water down like it was the only thing keeping you from ascending into another plane of existence. The cold liquid hit your tongue, soothing it for one glorious second—

And then the fire came back angrier.

Macklin gasped so loudly you were pretty sure the neighbors would be concerned. “WHY IS IT GETTING WORSE?!”

“I—I think it’s—” You coughed, voice hoarse. “The water spreads the spice—”

Macklin looked at you with the purest expression of betrayal. “We’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Still gasping, you both staggered to the fridge, yanking it open like a pair of starving survivors raiding a supply drop. Macklin grabbed an ice cube tray and immediately shoved a cube into his mouth. You followed suit, sighing in relief as the cold numbed the burning.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Macklin started laughing—a deep, breathless, borderline unhinged kind of laugh.

“I can’t believe we did that,” he wheezed.

You let out a strangled chuckle. “We’re idiots.”

He nodded. “Biggest idiots.”

Your eyes flickered to the phone still recording on the table.

Macklin narrowed his eyes. “We are never showing this to anyone.”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t know… your teammates might get a kick out of it.”

He pointed at you. “If this ends up in the group chat, I will get revenge.”

You simply smirked, already planning your next move.

But for now? You were just happy to be alive.

[oscquinn]

so I'm back to ask for macklin blurb or fic cause I need him soso bad um um

him skating to you with open arms or or please I need to go ice skating with him so bad but also im

too many thoughts, he's so hockey bf

hockey bf save me

save me hockey bf

hockey bf,,,

-🌂

hi lovely 🌂 anon, here's a little blurb for u :)) no warnings all fluff and softie mack!!!

macklin doesn’t mean to skate away from you instantly. it’s just that he’s not used to being around someone who isn’t quick on the ice. you’re clinging to the dock that dips onto the little pond, trying to stand on too-wobbly feet.

you’re visiting his family in canada, your boyfriend having a little time between a roadie and a series of home games. he’s told you time and time again about this pond, how he learned to skate here when it would freeze over in the ice cold winter. 

he’s taking large strokes, skating with all his power clear across them pond—a good twenty or more feet away from you—before sliding to a stop with the sharp noise of blades on ice.

“mack!” you call out, suddenly past the edge of the dock. your hands grasp for something to hold onto but you slide further away the more you try to reach for it.

your boyfriend turns around, eyes widening as he sees you helpless and wobbling out in the middle of the pond. he pushes off quickly, gliding over to you fast at first but pointing is skates inwards to slow down as he approaches you. arms out and a grin on his face he slides in front of you, macklin’s body bumps into yours.

“woah!” you wobble, but strong arms grip your sides to keep you upright. your heart is going a million beats a minute, from a mixture of fear-induced adrenaline and mack’s blindingly bright smile. 

once you have a more steady footing he skates back a little, takes your hands in his own, and tugs you slowly across the ice. “you push off, back and a little to the side,” he instructs, watching intently as you begin to skate on your own. “yeah like that! look at you, you’re a natural.”

it’s hard to feel scared when you know he’s got you. after a few laps around the ice mack lets go of your hands, slowly curving around to skate at your side. he adopts your slow pace for a while but quickly tires of it. instead he skates swirling patterns around you, playfully gliding past your side with a gust of wind in his wake.

watching him spin in a slow but tight circle, you want to try the motion yourself, but when you mimick his actions suddenly you find your ass meeting cold ice with a thud that macklin hears immediately. 

you’re giggling already when he skids to a halt with a spray of ice directed behind you, careful not to get you any more cold and wet than you already were with your sweatpants on the ice. he crouches, helping you back onto steady feet before gathering you into his arms. “you alright?”

“mm,” you nod slightly, looking up at his pretty green eyes. soft lashes frame them as he looks at you, checking your face for signs of discomfort. “kiss it better?” you ask playfully.

“i am not kissing your butt,” mack scoffs, laughing when you swat at his chest and in turn lose your balance a bit.

your arms instinctively circle his middle as he steadies you, still laughing with a kiss smushed to your temple. “i meant on the lips, you idiot.” you tease.

and of course, mack kisses you. soft pink lips find your own, a little chapped but so are yours, it’s winter after all. he sighs into your mouth, moving his skates until he was tugging you backward. you let out a worried hum but he shushes you, “i gotcha, don’t worry.”

[missmaymay13]

back to friends - w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith x fem!oc | 6k

summary: based on the song by sombr

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The first time Will Smith laid eyes on Billie Roland, he was four years old and she was five, a whole year wiser, cooler, and more mysterious in the way only older girls could be. She was wearing sparkly light-up sneakers and a flower-patterned sundress, spinning in lazy circles on the sidewalk in front of the Smiths’ house while their moms chatted over coffee and sun hats. Will had been clinging to Colleen’s leg, shy and bashful, but the moment he saw Billie, he blinked up at his mom with wide eyes and asked, "Who’s that?"

Colleen had laughed—one of those deep, knowing laughs that made grown-ups sound like they knew a secret the rest of the world didn’t—and nudged him gently forward. "That’s Melissa’s daughter. Billie. Go say hi."

But he didn’t. Not that day. He watched from a safe distance as Billie spun and spun until she toppled over on the lawn, giggling with Grace, their knees grass-stained and their hair tangled from the wind. From that day on, Billie became a fixture in Will’s life, as permanent as the big maple tree in the Smiths’ backyard or the dent in the basement wall from the mini-stick games he played with his buddies. Her laugh became a background hum to his childhood, her voice a steady thread woven into the fabric of his days. She was there in the corner of birthday party photos, in sunburned memories of beach days and sprinkler wars, in the flickering warmth of fire pits and backyard sleepovers.

She was always around—after school, on weekends, during family dinners, holiday parties, summer barbecues. She and Grace were a unit, two halves of the same bright, laughing soul, and Will was the tagalong little brother, always hovering just enough to be noticed, but never quite invited. Not that he minded. Not at first.

Because Billie Roland was magic.

She talked fast and loud, loved rollerblading and freeze tag, wasn’t afraid to climb trees or cannonball into the deep end, and always, always knew what to say. She had this rare gift of making everything feel like an adventure, like every moment mattered. She lived in color, like someone had turned the saturation all the way up just for her. Will, younger and quieter, was content to watch. He listened more than he spoke, followed more than he led, but Billie never made him feel small. She talked to him like he mattered. She didn’t baby him, didn’t tease him the way Grace sometimes did. She saw him. And even at eight years old, Will felt that—a warmth in his chest he didn’t yet have words for. A pull. A knowing.

As the years rolled on, that warmth only deepened.

Puberty hit Grace first. Then Billie. And then, with a vengeance, it hit Will. Suddenly his arms were too long, his voice cracked unpredictably, and he had no idea what to do with the overwhelming feelings that bloomed in his chest every time Billie was around. She wore crop tops now. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. She had this habit of biting her bottom lip when she was thinking, and Will—fifteen and fumbling—thought he might combust every time she did it. It felt wrong somehow, to look at her this way. Like crossing a line he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to cross. But it was impossible not to.

He started noticing little things: the freckles that dusted her shoulders in summer, the way she always smelled like vanilla and sunshine, the curve of her smile when she was half-listening to someone speak. The way she twirled a pencil between her fingers when she was concentrating. The way her voice dropped just slightly when she was being serious. And then there were the moments—those fleeting seconds of eye contact that lingered just a little too long, the brushes of her arm against his when they sat too close on the couch, the way her laughter softened when it was just for him. It became harder and harder to pretend she was just his sister’s friend.

But Billie was still Grace’s best friend. And Will was still the goofy little brother.

The dynamic changed, but no one talked about it. Not even when Billie brought her first real boyfriend around—a boy from their high school soccer team who wore too much cologne and always called her "babe." Will hated him on sight. The jealousy festered in him, quiet and sharp, like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. Grace rolled her eyes at Will’s sulking, told him to get over it, but Colleen? Colleen just smiled knowingly, patting Will’s shoulder in that quiet way only moms can when they already understand everything you haven’t said.

Billie and Soccer Boy Ben didn’t last long. Neither did the ones who came after him. They came and went like summer thunderstorms—loud, fast, and gone before you knew it. Will dated a bit too—girls from school, from hockey, the occasional short-lived situationship—but it never stuck. It was never Billie. He tried. He really did. But every kiss felt wrong, every conversation shallow, every promise meaningless.

He used to imagine what it would be like to kiss her. Not in a teenage boy fantasy way—though, of course, those existed too—but in a quiet, reverent way. Like he just wanted to know what it would feel like to be hers, even for a moment. He wanted to hold her hand in the back seat of a car during a long drive. He wanted to dance with her at someone’s wedding. He wanted to be the one she turned to, always. He wanted to wake up beside her and feel, for once, like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

It all came to a head the summer before Will left for Michigan.

He’d been selected to join the NTDP, a dream opportunity, but one that meant leaving home, leaving Grace, and—most importantly—leaving Billie. His parents threw him a going-away party in their backyard, string lights wrapped around the fence posts, folding tables sagging under the weight of chips and soda and hot dogs. Someone brought a cake shaped like a hockey puck. Old coaches stopped by. Even his grade school teacher showed up with a card and a hug. Grace played hostess, darting between clusters of people. Billie sat beside her, golden in the fading sunlight, hair in a braid, jean shorts hugging her hips, legs tucked under her in a plastic lawn chair like she belonged there. Like she belonged everywhere.

Will couldn’t stop looking at her.

Every time she laughed, his stomach flipped. Every time she brushed her hair behind her ear, his chest ached. He was standing by the cooler when she came up beside him, holding two sodas.

"One’s for you," she said, handing it over. "You look like you’re about to pass out."

Will laughed, cracked the can, and took a long sip. "Just hot. And... you know. A little overwhelmed."

Billie smiled gently. "Big deal, huh? Moving to Michigan."

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "Kind of feels like everything’s changing."

She looked at him for a long moment, and something in her eyes softened.

"Everything is changing," she said quietly.

They drifted away from the crowd, walking slowly toward the back edge of the yard where the fence met the overgrown bushes. It was quieter there. Fireflies blinked lazily in the air. Somewhere, someone turned on music, muffled and distant. The smell of burgers still hung in the air, mingling with fresh-cut grass and citronella. The world felt slower there, like they’d stepped outside of time.

Will leaned against the fence. Billie stood beside him, sipping her soda, eyes on the sky.

"You scared?" she asked after a long silence.

He nodded. "Terrified."

She looked over. "You’re gonna be amazing."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Their eyes locked, and for a long, suspended moment, neither of them said anything. The air between them was thick with everything unsaid—years of lingering glances and almost-confessions, of brushing shoulders and unspoken wishes. Billie tilted her head slightly. Will leaned in without realizing it. It was instinct. Natural. The way her eyes flicked to his lips made his heart stutter. Every nerve in his body stood at attention. He could smell the strawberry lip gloss she always wore. He could hear the soft hitch of her breath.

Her breath caught.

He was inches away. Inches from everything he’d ever wanted.

And then—

"Will!" Bill Smith’s voice bellowed across the yard, booming and cheerful. "C’mon, kid, we’ve got a surprise!"

The moment shattered like glass.

Billie stepped back first, blinking rapidly, cheeks flushed. Will swallowed hard, pushing away from the fence. The silence between them buzzed with the ghost of something that could have been.

"Go," she said, smiling like nothing had happened. "Your big moment."

He nodded, but his heart ached. His legs carried him back to the patio, but his mind stayed there with her, frozen in that almost-moment, suspended in what they hadn’t allowed themselves to say.

He knew, deep down, that they’d never talk about what almost happened. And that somehow, it might change everything.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

When Will came home from Michigan, it was like time had folded in on itself. Everything looked the same—the creaky screen door, the chip in the driveway, the sound of sprinklers ticking rhythmically in the neighbor's yard. But everything felt different. The air held a weight it hadn’t before. He had grown into his limbs, filled out his frame, and there was a calm seriousness behind his eyes that hadn’t been there the summer before.

Billie noticed it right away.

He walked into the Rolands’s kitchen like he belonged there, and maybe he always had. But Billie had been mid-sentence, laughing about something Grace said, and when she looked up and saw him—all long legs and quiet confidence and that familiar lopsided grin—her heart stuttered. She covered it quickly, smiled, said, "Hey, stranger," like it didn’t cost her anything.

He said, "Hey," back. And his voice was deeper now.

From that moment on, they pretended everything was normal.

They had to. There were too many people watching, too many rhythms already in place. Grace dragged Billie to the lake and movie nights and impromptu road trips to the city. Will tagged along when he could, but there was always something on his plate: interviews, training, draft prep, team meetings. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Coaches, agents, scouts. Even people at the grocery store.

It was easier that way. With Will always busy, they didn’t have to talk about what had almost happened. What they’d nearly crossed into.

But the tension was still there.

In the way Billie would glance over just a second too long when he wasn’t looking. In the way Will always seemed to know when she was about to walk into the room. Like gravity worked differently between them. Like they were orbiting each other no matter how hard they tried not to.

Colleen and Melissa had noticed, of course. Their moms weren’t subtle about it either—always exchanging glances when Billie came by, asking her if she wanted to stay for dinner, nudging Will with comments like, "You should take Billie out for ice cream, she’s barely seen you since you got home." Will always laughed it off. Billie did too. But the undercurrent pulled harder every day.

Then came the draft.

It was a blur of suit fittings and plane tickets and hotel lobbies. Will's family flew out a few days early. Billie and her parents followed close behind. Grace made a big show of helping him pick his outfit, arguing over ties and pocket squares, while Billie sat on the hotel bed watching him in the mirror.

"You look like a grown-up," she teased, soft and affectionate.

He glanced at her reflection. "I feel like a mess."

The day of the draft was chaos. Will barely had time to think. He shook hands with everyone, smiled for cameras, answered the same questions a hundred different ways. His heart was thudding in his chest, not from nerves, but from the sheer weight of it all. Years of work, of early mornings and bruises and pressure, had brought him here. But it didn’t feel real.

The draft room was massive. Cold. Buzzing with noise and excitement. Will sat with his family in the tight rows of designated seating. Grace was beside him. Billie was on her other side. Her hand brushed against his arm when she leaned in to whisper something to Grace, and it was like his whole body went still.

He didn’t remember much after that.

Not the team official approaching. Not the few seconds of warning he got. Not the way his mother gripped his hand or the tears in Grace’s eyes.

All he remembered was the way Billie looked at him.

She was the only thing still.

Everything else was a blur of noise and movement and color, but she was the calm in the storm. Her eyes locked with his, wide and quiet and brimming with something he couldn’t name.

When they called his name, the room exploded.

Cameras flashed. People stood. Will moved on instinct, standing, hugging his parents, Grace. Then Billie. He pulled her in tight, tighter than was probably appropriate, but no one said anything. She wrapped her arms around him like she didn’t care who was watching.

"I’m so proud of you," she whispered, close to his ear.

He couldn’t speak. Could only hold her.

His agent tapped him on the shoulder. "Let’s go."

Will pulled back, but not all the way. They stood there, inches apart, breathing each other in. Her eyes flicked to his lips. His heart stammered.

They didn’t kiss. Not then.

But it was a moment. A shift.

Later, when it was all over and the adrenaline had faded and the cameras were gone, he found her alone in the hotel hallway. She was barefoot, her heels dangling from her fingers, makeup smudged from happy tears.

"You disappeared," she said.

"I needed air," he replied.

"You okay?"

He nodded. Then, quietly, "Come here."

She stepped into his arms without hesitation.

That night felt like a dam breaking.

All the years of soft glances and nearlys and maybe-one-days poured out of them in breathless touches and whispered truths. Will kissed her like he’d been holding his breath since he was fifteen, and Billie touched him like she had always known he was hers, like every version of him—shy kid, quiet teen, soon-to-be NHLer—deserved to be loved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and real, and so tender it hurt. Will needed her—not just her body, but her. The way she steadied him. The way she looked at him like he was still just Will from down the street, not someone the world had decided to put on a pedestal.

Billie grounded him.

In that hotel room, with the city lights flickering outside the window and the scent of her shampoo lingering on the pillow, Will let himself fall. And Billie caught him.

They didn’t say much afterward. Didn’t need to.

She laid her head on his chest, and he played with the ends of her hair. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t scared of what was next.

Because she was there.

The morning light crept slowly through the narrow hotel room window, casting a soft golden hue over the tangled sheets and the bare curve of Billie’s shoulder. Will was already awake, lying on his side, watching her breathe. Her hair was a mess of curls on the pillow, and the edge of the sheet was pulled just high enough to leave everything else to memory—but it didn’t matter. He remembered every detail.

His body was heavy, but his chest was light. Light in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to risk breaking the stillness, the fragile peace of that moment. But time was already pressing in. He could feel it behind his ribs, tapping on his shoulder. There would be meetings. Media. Family brunch. Travel. The post-draft whirlwind was coming. But for a few more seconds, he let himself exist in the quiet.

Billie stirred, just barely, her brows twitching as she blinked awake. Her eyes met his, still sleepy, still soft.

"Hey," she whispered.

He smiled. "Hey."

The silence stretched between them, not awkward, but tentative. Like neither of them quite knew who they were in the light of day.

Will reached out, brushing a piece of hair from her cheek. She didn’t pull away.

"Did you sleep?" she asked.

"A little. You?"

She nodded, then paused. "This is weird, right?"

He exhaled a quiet laugh. "Yeah."

Billie rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The sheet shifted, and Will glanced away before she could catch him looking. But not fast enough.

"You don’t have to be shy," she said, her voice lighter than he expected.

"I’m not shy," he said, which was a lie.

She turned her head to face him again. "So what now?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Searched for something that wouldn’t sound like a mistake.

"I don’t know," he said honestly.

Billie nodded slowly. "Me neither."

They lay there for a while longer, the silence stretching and fraying. She slipped out of bed eventually, wrapped herself in the white hotel robe, and padded toward the bathroom. Will sat up, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand over his face. He still felt her everywhere—in his skin, in his lungs, in the ache behind his ribs.

When she came back, she was already dressed in last night’s clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed, tying her sneakers like it was any other morning. Like the night they’d just shared hadn’t shifted something fundamental between them.

"I should go," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

Billie stood. Will did too. They faced each other awkwardly, neither sure how to say goodbye.

"Congrats again," she said, and then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

It was sweet. Gentle. A punctuation mark at the end of something they hadn’t dared write.

She was out the door a second later.

Will stood in the middle of the room, feeling like something had ended before it even had a chance to begin.

And maybe it had. Or maybe they were both just too scared to find out what came next.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Boston was loud. Always moving. Always pushing. It was the kind of city that didn’t let you linger too long in your own head—too many people, too many cars, too much noise. And still, Billie couldn’t outrun the quiet ache in her chest that surfaced every time she saw Will Smith.

Which was more often than she expected.

She had told herself, after that morning in the hotel, that it was over. Whatever had passed between them that night—whatever it had meant—was buried beneath the silence they’d both agreed to uphold. She’d nodded. Smiled. Left. And he’d let her. That silence had stretched across the entire summer like an invisible thread, taut and humming with everything they hadn’t dared say. And now here they were, at the same school, in the same city, pretending like that night hadn’t shifted something deep in her bones.

Boston College was beautiful in the fall. The ivy-wrapped buildings, the amber leaves clinging to old stone walls, the echo of footsteps on brick pathways—it should’ve felt like a fresh start. And maybe it was, in a hundred other ways. Billie and Grace had moved in a week before Will. Their shared apartment sat just two blocks off campus, all exposed brick and too-small closets, the kind of place that looked like it had stories hidden in the walls. Grace was thriving—loud, extroverted, opinionated as ever. Billie tried to match her energy. Most days she managed. Some days, she didn’t.

It was on those days that Will showed up.

He was always just there somehow. At the same parties. In the cafeteria. Passing by on campus. He’d grown even more over the summer—taller, broader, more confident. Girls noticed. Professors noticed. The entire school, it seemed, buzzed with the name Will Smith. But he never quite looked comfortable in the spotlight. Not really. Not the way Grace did. He wore the attention like a coat that didn’t quite fit, and Billie saw it in the way he shrank back when someone called his name too loudly, or how he tightened his jaw when people stopped him for selfies. He was trying to become something the world expected, and part of her hated watching it happen.

She watched him in stolen moments. Quiet ones. From across the quad. At hockey games, seated high in the stands with Grace, surrounded by noise and chatter while her eyes followed one person. Will had a presence that made the world tilt a little. She hated that she could still feel it. Hated that some part of her still craved it.

He never looked at her for long.

Just long enough.

Those glances were infrequent, but they rattled her every time. A few seconds too long in the hallway. A brush of his hand when they reached for the same napkin at a party. The way his voice changed slightly when he said her name. She kept waiting for it to fade—to dull down into something manageable. But it never did.

One afternoon in October, she found herself alone on campus. Grace had class, and Billie had just finished a shift at the campus fitness center. The air was crisp, thick with the smell of autumn and roasted coffee. She cut across the quad, earbuds in, head down, until someone called her name.

"Billie."

She turned. He was standing there in a hoodie and joggers, backpack slung over one shoulder, sweat dampening his hairline. Practice, probably. He looked flushed, a little breathless, like he’d jogged to catch up with her.

"Hey," she said, unsure what else to give him.

He smiled, faint and tired. "Hey."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Billie shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets. The air was cooler than she’d expected, and her skin prickled beneath the fabric.

"How—how have you been?" he asked, voice low.

"Fine. Busy. Classes are a lot."

"Yeah. Same."

The quiet that followed was filled with everything they weren’t saying. Billie could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other like he was holding something back.

"You look good," he said after a moment, and immediately seemed to regret it.

She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "You too."

And that should have been it. A polite exchange. A nod, a wave, two people who had shared something and let it go. But neither of them moved.

Finally, he stepped closer, his voice barely above the breeze.

"I, uh… saw you at the game last weekend."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You looked… happy."

She didn’t know what to say to that. Because she had smiled. Had cheered when he scored. Had clapped when his name was announced over the speakers. But happiness? That was a complicated word.

So she said nothing.

Will nodded, as if he understood anyway. "Okay. Well. I should go."

"Yeah. Okay."

He turned. Took two steps. Then looked back.

"It wasn’t nothing. That night."

Her breath caught. The words knocked the air from her lungs.

But he didn’t stay for her answer.

He walked away.

And Billie stood frozen on the sidewalk, wondering how silence could still hurt this much. Wondering why the shape of his back disappearing into the distance felt more like a goodbye than anything he’d ever said aloud.

That night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how badly she wanted to believe him. How often she replayed that night in her head. The way his hands had trembled. The way he had whispered her name like it was a prayer. The way it had felt like they were both searching for something steady and had found it, briefly, in each other.

Boston wasn’t big enough to escape what lingered between them. And maybe, Billie thought, no place ever would be.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The text came late.

Will: Can you come over?

Billie read it three times, heart thudding. She was already in bed, wrapped in a blanket with her phone dimmed low and some movie playing in the background. She hadn’t expected to hear from him. Not like this. Not after the way they’d danced around each other for weeks, saying nothing but always feeling everything. She could still see him from across the ice, head bowed after the final buzzer, shoulders heavy, skates dragging toward the locker room like the loss was carved into his spine.

She stared at her screen, thumb hovering. The silence on her end stretched just long enough for her chest to ache. Then she typed back.

Billie: Are you okay?

Will: No.

That was all it took.

Fifteen minutes later, she was standing outside his building, hoodie pulled tight over her head, pulse hammering in her throat. The sky above was a deep navy, clouds low and swollen, the kind of night that made the world feel close and quiet. Her hands were cold in her sleeves. Her thoughts louder than the wind.

He opened the door before she knocked.

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair messy, and he wore a worn grey BC hoodie and loose sweats. There was a darkness under his eyes she hadn’t seen before—exhaustion laced with something heavier. Defeat. He didn’t say anything, just stepped back and let her in. Billie hesitated, then crossed the threshold like it meant something.

The apartment was dark save for the blue light of the TV flickering in the background. A replay of the game was on, the volume low. She saw the moment—his missed shot, the goal against them, the slump of his shoulders as he skated to the bench. Over and over again. Like he couldn’t stop punishing himself.

"You were there tonight," he said, voice rough.

"Yeah."

"I saw you."

Billie swallowed. "I know."

He walked past her, sat heavily on the couch, elbows on his knees. His head dropped into his hands. The silence between them stretched, punctuated only by the quiet static of the television.

"I can’t do this sometimes," he said finally. "The pressure. The noise. It gets so loud in my head I can’t hear anything else. I mess up and it’s like… like everyone’s watching me fall apart."

She crossed the room slowly, lowering herself to sit beside him. Their knees brushed. Her presence was quiet, steady. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She just existed beside him, solid and warm, like the eye of a storm.

After a while, he looked up.

"Why did you come?"

She turned to face him. "Because you asked."

Will didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

And then, something inside him cracked.

He reached for her like it was instinct, like her name lived in his bones. Their mouths met fast and desperate, a clash of breath and memory. It wasn’t soft like the first time. It was raw. Needy. All the words they hadn’t said poured out in touches, in the press of his forehead against hers, in the way she cradled his face like he might break. She tasted like chapstick and worry, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that could tether him to the ground.

They stumbled backward onto the couch, limbs tangled, the TV forgotten. Her hands slid under his hoodie, over his skin, and he gasped into her mouth like she’d pulled the air from his lungs. His fingers shook as they explored the familiar curve of her waist, the rise of her ribs. He memorized her all over again.

"I missed you," he breathed into her neck, and her entire body went still for half a second.

"Don’t say that unless you mean it," she whispered back.

"I mean it. God, I mean it."

She kissed him harder.

It was fire and ache and comfort all at once—the kind of collision that comes after too long apart, too long pretending, too long pretending not to want. Her hands tugged at his clothes with purpose, and he let her take whatever pieces of him she needed. Because the truth was, he needed her more.

When it was over, they lay tangled on the too-small couch, his head on her chest, her fingers tracing patterns along his back. His breathing slowed against her skin, each exhale anchoring him deeper into the moment.

"I shouldn’t have texted you," he murmured. "But I didn’t know who else to call."

"You don’t have to apologize."

Will lifted his head, eyes searching hers. There was a storm behind them—questions he didn’t know how to ask, confessions he wasn’t brave enough to speak. "I meant what I said. That night. It wasn’t nothing."

Billie brushed her fingers through his hair, heart caught between comfort and ache.

"I know," she said. But neither of them said what it was.

Because the truth was messy.

And in that moment, it was easier to pretend the repeat wasn’t a pattern. That they weren’t falling into something too big to name. That this was just one night. Again. And not the beginning of everything unraveling.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

They didn’t talk about it.

Again.

After that second night—the couch, the whispered promises, the trembling hands—they slipped back into silence like it was the only language they knew. There was something achingly familiar about their avoidance now, as if it had become part of their routine. A ghost that walked with them through every hallway, lingered in the back row of every class, haunted every party. They passed each other in the dining hall and on campus, surrounded by noise and friends and routine, but something had shifted. They had crossed a line, not once, but twice now. And every time they pretended it hadn’t happened, it hurt more. There was no going back to normal, not really, though both of them tried. They smiled too easily. Avoided each other too deliberately. They were trying to be careful, and in doing so, they were breaking their own hearts.

Billie could feel him before she saw him. It was like her body had learned to respond to his presence before her eyes did. A tightening in her chest. A low hum behind her ribs. And every time she looked at him—whether he was laughing with his teammates, sitting on the bench during a game, or walking with Grace across the quad—it ached. Because he was still him. Still Will. Still the boy she’d grown up with, the boy who had always been just out of reach, even when his arms were around her. Still the boy who held her like she was a lifeline, who kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. And yet, now he kept his distance.

And yet, he said nothing.

And she didn’t push.

They lived in that purgatory for months. The end of spring semester crept up on them with the kind of slow inevitability that made everything feel sharp. The final weeks were a blur of exams and packing and long walks home with Grace under cherry blossom trees that didn’t feel real. Billie went through the motions, but she felt like she was underwater. Always watching him. Always wondering if he was going to say something. If she should. And she hated herself for it—for wanting him to speak, for craving something she wasn't sure he was ready to give.

And so, she built walls. Quiet ones. Ones that looked like politeness and small talk. Ones that said, "I’m fine," when she wasn’t. Ones that let her smile in photos and laugh at jokes and look away when Will walked into the room.

Then summer came.

And everything broke.

It happened on a night that started like so many others. A group of them—Grace, a few teammates, friends from home—had gathered for a bonfire in the backyard of the Smiths' place. The air was warm, thick with smoke and laughter and the hum of music from someone’s portable speaker. Billie had worn a hoodie and shorts, her legs curled beneath her on a lawn chair. She sat apart from the crowd, watching shadows flicker across familiar faces, letting her gaze drift to the boy across the fire. Will was there, laughing at something someone said, his mouth open wide, head tilted back, firelight dancing along his jaw.

He looked happy.

And it broke something in her.

Because she didn’t know how to reconcile that boy with the one who had held her like a secret. Like something sacred. Like someone he couldn't bear to lose.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was tired.

Tired of pretending. Tired of watching. Tired of him only needing her when it hurt. Tired of being something temporary.

Later that night, when most of the crowd had cleared out and Grace had gone inside for more drinks, Billie found herself alone on the porch. The cicadas buzzed in the trees. The fire had dwindled to glowing embers. The air was heavy with unspoken things. Will stepped out a few seconds later, hands stuffed in his hoodie, hair tousled from the wind. He looked at her like he hadn’t seen her in years. Like he didn’t know how to start.

They stood in silence for a beat. Then he said, "You’re quiet tonight."

She glanced at him. "You’re not."

His jaw tightened. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she said, too quickly. Then, "Everything."

That was when it snapped.

Will stepped closer, frustration coloring his voice. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"You want me to say it?" she said, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Fine. You don’t get to act like what we have is some footnote in your life. You don’t get to pretend it didn’t mean anything when you only seem to reach for me when the world feels too heavy."

"That’s not fair."

"No? What’s fair, then? You pull me in and then disappear? You look at me like you can’t breathe without me but can’t even say my name when we pass each other on campus? I can’t keep doing this, Will. I can’t keep being your escape."

Will looked like she’d slapped him. His voice dropped. "I’m scared, Billie. I’m scared of what this is, of what I feel."

"Then say it!"

"I love you."

The words hit the air like a firecracker. Sharp. Bright. Impossible to ignore.

Billie froze.

Will stepped forward again, his voice cracking. "I love you. I have since I was a kid. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be the guy who gets the girl and doesn’t screw it up. But every time I see you, every time I breathe, I think of you. And the thought of not having you in my life terrifies me. Because you see me. You always have. And no one else ever has."

She stared at him, every part of her aching.

"You love me?"

He nodded, tears in his eyes. "Since the first day I met you. Since you wore those sparkly shoes and spun around on the front lawn like the world belonged to you. I was four years old and I already knew."

There was silence.

And then she crossed the space between them and kissed him like she was drowning.

Because maybe she was.

And maybe he was too.

The kiss didn’t end.

Not really.

It softened, sure—became quieter, steadier. But even when their lips parted and their foreheads rested together, even when the world caught up to them and breath had to be drawn, the feeling didn’t leave. It hovered, warm and electric, between them. Billie could feel it in the pulse at her neck, in the tremble of his fingers where they curled at her waist.

"We can’t keep doing this halfway," she whispered, eyes still closed. Her voice barely cracked the air between them.

"I know," Will said.

He opened his eyes, and she opened hers, and the ache they both wore on their faces finally found its voice.

"I keep thinking it might be easier to walk away," Billie said. "To forget what we said. What we are. But I can’t. I don’t want to."

Will swallowed. "Me neither. I thought if I ignored it, if I pushed it down, it would fade. But it didn’t. It got louder. You got louder."

She let out a breath that sounded like relief and heartbreak tangled together.

"You scare me," he admitted, and his voice shook.

"Why?"

"Because I feel like if I let myself love you fully, there won’t be anything left of me that doesn’t belong to you. And I don’t know how to exist in a world where I lose that."

Tears slipped down Billie’s cheek. She didn’t brush them away.

"Then don’t lose it," she said. "Don’t lose me. I don’t want halfway either, Will. I want all of it. The ugly parts. The messy parts. The too-much. I want every bit of you that you’re afraid to give."

He pulled her in again, arms wrapping around her like he could fold them into one shape, one body, one breath. He held her like he finally understood what home meant.

"We figure it out," she murmured. "Whatever comes next. Whatever this becomes. We figure it out together."

Will nodded against her shoulder. "You and me. Always."

"Til the end."

There was no one else in the world in that moment. No noise, no expectations, no fear strong enough to crack what they had finally found the courage to face. They had been circling this for years, caught in the push and pull of timing and fear, of silence and longing.

But they had found their way to each other.

And this time, they weren’t letting go.

[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]

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.

[toasttt11]

surprises

summary: expecting to be alone on valentines days not knowing there was a surprise or rather surprises for her

will smith x reader x macklin celebrini

She let out a long sigh rubbing her face as she unlocked her apartment door, she just spent her normally free Friday in the library all day on Valentine’s days because her boyfriends were out of town. She would love a hug from her boyfriends right now.

If you told her a few months ago she would meet two boys who play hockey for the sharks and are best friends and now they are her boyfriends, she would have thought you were crazy.

She ran into them for the first time at the golf course and she noticed immediately they both were flirting with her so she assumed they were competing with each other not realizing they were trying to get her together.

She jumped putting a hand to her heart catching her breath when Macklin just popped in front of her, “Mack!” She exclaimed just getting the life scared out of her.

“Oops.” Macklin sheepishly grinned and i’m stepped forward pulling her into a tight hug and happily nuzzling his face in her neck sighing happily.

“You’re both supposed to be in Arizona.” She looked confused seeing Macklin and knew Will is somewhere in her apartment but she wrapped her arms around Macklin.

“I missed you.” Macklin pouted hiding his face in her neck pressing soft kisses.

“Missed you too.” She softly mumbled back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Will walked into the entrance way seeing them hugging and smiled fondly, “Happy Valentine’s Day sweet girl.” Will gently cooed as he pulled her into a hug just wrapping his arms around Macklin too and letting Macklin stay on her side and keep hugging her.

She hummed softly one arm around Macklin and one around Will and rested her head on Will’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Macklin mumbled softly.

“We have surprises for you.” Will said as he let go of her but kept an arm around her waist as Macklin reluctantly let go of her but kept holding her hand as they walked into her apartment.

There were rose pedals scattered, multiple flower bouquets across the living and dining room and kitchen, balloons and candles.

“We may have been told to look at Pinterest.” Will sheepishly told his girlfriend, Macklin and Will got help from Will’s sister.

“It’s perfect.” She smiled pressing a kiss to both of theirs cheeks, she didn’t need or expect anything and they were more than enough for Valentine’s Day.

“I made dinner and made sure Mack was nowhere near the kitchen.” Will teased as he told their girlfriend. Macklin grumbled reaching over and smacking Will softly.

“Go get comfy and we can eat.” Will playfully shooed her off and grabbed the back of Macklin’s shirt knowing if he let Macklin follow when she got dressed they would not end up eating dinner while it was still hot.

Macklin and Will plates three plates and bright drinks to the couch and left a small space in between them on the couch for her.

She came out a few minutes later in Will’s Shark sweatpants and Macklin’s Shark t-shirt and padded over getting comfortable in between the two.

Will clicked on their favorite TV show they always watch all three of them together and she took her first bite of food and made a happy sound, “It’s amazing.” She pressed a kiss to Wills cheek in thanks and then Macklin too knowing Macklin would pout if he didn’t get a kiss.

They all ate their foods and left the empty pates on the coffee teacher and all three of them settled even more on the cochin getting more comfortable.

She know had her legs draped over Will’s lap and Macklin was fully laying on top of her getting his hair played with.

Will pressed a kiss to the top of her head and leaned over pressing a kiss to Macklin’s head making Macklin smile happily.

It was the perfect Valentine’s Day for the three of them.

[girlishwhimsyy]

not the nhl changing their pfp to mack on tiktok 😭😭😭

[ruinix]

Macklin Celebrini, why so aggressive, child.

(San Jose Sharks @ New Jersey Devils, November 10, 2024)