a little too obvious MC71
summary: Y/N had been friends with will ever since they were younger. Y/N was there for will, supporting him through everything. when he got drafted into the nhl for the san jose sharks he met a certain someone who he wouldn’t stop talking about over the phone, and Y/N finally got to meet him, and when she did, she immediately knew she was gonna fall. HARD.
Y/N had known Will Smith since they were kids—before the fame, before the madness, before everyone on the planet felt like they knew him. To her, he wasn’t “Will Smith, global superstar.” He was just Will. The same Will who used to steal her lunch snacks and blame it on imaginary ghosts, who would drag her to the studio at ungodly hours, who still called her “Short Stack” even though she was now definitely taller than him in heels.
And despite his entire life spiraling into the public eye, their friendship had never wavered. If anything, it had only gotten stronger.
Which is probably why Will, being the meddling menace he was, felt fully entitled to wedge himself into every corner of her love life—even when she claimed loudly and repeatedly that she did not have one.
But today, as she made her way into his house, she had no idea how deep his meddling was about to go.
“There he is! My favorite headache.”
“Y/N! Get your slow feet in here!” Will yelled from somewhere inside the living room.
She kicked the door shut and dropped her bag. “You scream at me like that again and I’m filing a noise complaint.”
“You don’t even live here,” he called back.
She rounded the corner to find Will standing beside someone she didn’t recognize—tall, athletic, dark hair, probably her age, with soft eyes that should have definitely been illegal. He wore a hoodie and sweatpants, but somehow still looked like he’d stepped out of a sports commercial.
“There she is,” Will announced proudly.
“Y/N, meet macklin celebrini”
Y/N blinked. “The hockey guy?”
Macklin laughed softly. “I mean… technically, yeah.”
“Technically?” she echoed. “You’re like… the hockey prodigy guy.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I guess.”
Will slapped Macklin on the shoulder. “See? Told you she’d hype you up.”
Will’s grin was too wide. Too knowing. Too obvious.
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he said, which meant he was absolutely doing something.
But Macklin stepped forward, offering his hand with a shy warmth that threw her off balance. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Will talks about you a lot.”
Will shot finger guns. “I do talk about her a lot. She’s one of my favorite people.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking Macklin’s hand. “If he talks about me, it’s mostly lies and slander.”
“Nah,” Macklin said, his smile deepening. “Mostly bragging.”
Her face heated. Oh great. Wonderful.
This man was going to be a problem.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N muttered, her eyes glued to the kitchen counter as she poured herself a glass of water.
Will leaned against the fridge, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You’re doing The Thing.”
She paused mid-pour. “…What thing.”
“The Thing you do when you like someone.”
“You tilt your head when they talk to you.”
She snorted. “I tilt my head when anyone talks to me.”
“You laughed too hard at his joke.”
Will pointed. “A normal person blinks. You blinked like you were buffering.”
Will beamed, utterly insufferable. “You’re so into him.”
She groaned. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” he said happily. “And one day you’re gonna thank me.”
“For introducing you to your future husband.”
Macklin Was Not Helping the Situation
The problem wasn’t that Macklin was attractive—though, yes, objectively, scientifically, cosmically, he was.
The problem was that he was… nice.
Nice in the way that made her stomach do flips she didn’t authorize. Nice in the way that made her want to linger in conversations with him. Nice in a quiet, steady, soft-around-the-edges way that contrasted with her chaotic friendship with Will.
He listened. Really listened.
Like when she mentioned she loved blueberry muffins—something even she forgot she said—and a week later, he showed up at Will’s place carrying a box.
“These reminded me of you,” he told her, cheeks slightly pink as he handed them over.
She had nearly short-circuited on the spot.
Will watched from the couch, smirking like a parent watching his kid’s school play. “I love love,” he whispered dramatically.
She threw a pillow at his head.
Denial: A Sport Y/N Excelled In
Weeks passed. Macklin came around more often. She insisted she didn’t care, even as she found herself suddenly wearing nicer clothes whenever she knew he’d be there.
When Will invited them both out for lunch, Y/N made the mistake of showing up a few minutes late—and seeing Macklin’s face visibly light up when she walked in.
Will noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Ohhh?” he sang under his breath as she slid into the booth.
She kicked him under the table so hard he yelped loud enough for the whole restaurant to stare.
Macklin blinked at them. “Everything okay?”
“Peachy,” Will wheezed. Then muttered, “If I die, tell everyone I was right.”
The Moment Everything Shifted
It happened one night when Will had people over—actors, athletes, producers, friends, people Y/N recognized, some she didn’t.
Y/N found herself on the back patio alone, leaning against the railing and staring at the dark sky. The music inside hummed, laughter spilling through the open door, but out here it was quiet.
Macklin stepped out, sliding the door shut behind him. “Hey.”
Her heart flipped. “Hey.”
“Yeah. Just needed some air.”
He leaned against the railing next to her, shoulders nearly touching. “Me too.”
Silence fell—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… warm. Familiar.
After a moment, Macklin spoke softly, “You and Will are really close.”
“We’ve practically survived life together,” she replied. “He’s family.”
Macklin nodded. “Yeah. I can see that.”
Then he hesitated, fingers brushing the railing. “He, um… talks about how you’re one of the most important people in his life.”
Y/N smiled. “And I talk about how he’s the biggest pain in mine.”
Macklin laughed, head tilting. “He told me something else, too.”
“Oh no,” she groaned. “What lie did he spread now?”
“He said…” Macklin paused, eyes meeting hers—gentle, searching. “He said you care about people harder than anyone he’s ever met.”
“And I’ve noticed it too,” he added quietly.
“Yeah.” His fingers inched closer on the railing. Not touching. But close. So close she could feel the warmth radiating.
Then he said her name in a voice that felt like a confession.
But the sliding door opened and Will poked his head out. “You two are being suspiciously quiet. Kiss or fight—either is more entertaining than whatever’s happening inside.”
“WILL!” they both shouted.
He grinned, satisfied. “Just checking.”
But Macklin’s face was pink. And Y/N’s heart was doing dangerous things.
And Will knew. She could see it in his smug smirk before he retreated inside.
Running Doesn’t Work When Your Feelings Run Faster
Y/N avoided Macklin for three days.
She didn’t answer texts. Didn’t come over. Pretended to be busy.
Will caught her immediately.
“I’m simply living my life in peace.”
“You’re hiding from your crush.”
Will threw his hands up dramatically. “The girl is lying to herself AND God.”
Will crossed his arms. “Okay. Fine. Tell me this: if he walked in right now and told you he liked you, what would you do?”
“I—” she swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“Yes,” Will said, pointing. “You do.”
She glared. “I hate that you know me.”
“I love that I know you,” he corrected. “And I know when you’re scared.”
“Y/N,” Will softened, “you’re terrified because he’s not some random guy. He’s someone who could matter.”
That hit too close to home.
Will placed a hand on her head like she was a kid. “Let yourself have something good. For once.”
Before she could answer, a knock came at the door.
Will smirked. “And speak of the devil.”
“NO,” she hissed. “Will don’t—”
But Will, traitor that he was, swung the door open.
Macklin stood there, breathless, cheeks red like he’d run the whole way.
“Y/N,” he exhaled. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Will whispered, “I ship it,” and vanished into another room.
Macklin stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “Did I… do something? You haven’t texted back.”
“No! No, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry. I’ve just been—busy.”
He gave her the softest look. “Y/N… you don’t have to lie to me.”
That made her chest tighten.
He took a small step closer. “Did I say something wrong the other night?”
“No” she whispered “you didn’t”
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
She swallowed. “Because you make me nervous.”
His eyes widened. “I make you nervous?”
She squeezed her hands together. “Yes. Because I… like being around you. Too much.”
He stared at her like she’d just cracked open the universe.
“Y/N,” he whispered, stepping closer, “I’ve liked you since the day Will introduced us.”
“But I didn’t want to push. You’re important to him. You’re important. Period. I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said immediately.
He smiled softly. “I hoped not.”
Then, slowly—painfully slow—he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I…?”
She didn’t let him finish.
She closed the distance, hands fisting in his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss that felt like exhaling after holding her breath for weeks.
He kissed back with a soft, relieved sound that made her knees weak.
When they finally broke apart, Macklin’s forehead rested against hers.
“I’m really glad you stopped avoiding me,” he murmured.
She laughed breathlessly. “I’m really glad Will is an annoying meddler.”
From down the hall, Will yelled, “YOU’RE WELCOME!”
Later, when Y/N and Macklin rejoined him in the living room—hands intertwined, faces glowing—Will clapped dramatically.
“FINALLY! Do you know how exhausting it was watching you two pine?”
Y/N groaned. “Please stop.”
“I will not,” Will said triumphantly. “This is my win. My trophy. My Super Bowl.”
Macklin laughed. “Thanks, Will. For… you know. Everything.”
Will wiped a fake tear. “My babies are growing up.”
Y/N leaned into Macklin’s side, rolling her eyes fondly. “He’s never going to shut up about this.”
“Nope,” Macklin said, squeezing her hand. “But I don’t mind.”
She looked up at him, heart full. “Me either.”
Will cleared his throat loudly. “Okay, lovebirds, let’s agree that the wedding will be at my house.”
“WILL!” Y/N and Macklin shouted at the same time, but Will only grinned wider, basking in the chaos he created.
He plopped himself onto the couch, spread out like a king awaiting tribute. “Listen, I brought you two together. I deserve the venue privileges.”
Y/N crossed her arms, cheeks burning. “We started dating five minutes ago.”
“And I’m already planning the playlist,” Will said smugly. “Don’t fight fate.”
Macklin hid a laugh behind his hand. Y/N elbowed him lightly. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m not encouraging him,” Macklin whispered, trying—and failing—to stop smiling. “I’m just terrified. I don’t want to make him mad. He has… power.”
Will pointed dramatically. “He understands the hierarchy.”
Y/N groaned, but Macklin slipped his fingers between hers again, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. And suddenly the teasing didn’t matter. The noise didn’t matter. All she felt was him beside her, steady and warm, like the moment she’d been trying to avoid for weeks had finally settled into place.
Will watched them, smug but soft. “Look at you two. Holding hands like you invented romance.”
“Will, please,” she said. “Have mercy.”
But then he surprised her—by softening just a little more, voice dropping into something real. “Seriously though… I’m happy for you.”
Y/N blinked. Will rarely used his sincere voice. It always caught her off guard.
He nodded toward her and Macklin, expression gentle. “You deserve someone who looks at you the way you look at him when you think no one’s paying attention.”
Then he pointed at Macklin, serious. “And you. Hurt her, and I’ll publicly revoke every compliment I’ve ever given you. I’ll make the world think you skate like a baby deer.”
Macklin raised both hands. “Understood. Crystal clear. No baby deer skating.”
Y/N laughed so hard she doubled over.
The Soft Part Will Pretends He Doesn’t Have
A few minutes later, Will disappeared into the kitchen, claiming he was “emotionally drained” from matchmaking. Y/N and Macklin followed eventually, finding him leaning against the island, sipping lemonade straight out of the pitcher.
Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Use a cup, you barbarian.”
Macklin grabbed a clean glass, poured himself some lemonade, and leaned against the counter beside her. “So,” he said softly, “are we… official?”
Y/N’s heart fluttered at how unsure he sounded, like he didn’t want to assume.
She nodded. “Yeah. If you want to be.”
His smile could have powered the entire city.
“I definitely want to be.”
Will, without looking up, said, “Louder. I didn’t hear it.”
Macklin cleared his throat loudly and repeated with mock enthusiasm, “I DEFINITELY WANT TO BE.”
Y/N smacked Will in the arm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And effective,” Will added smugly.
She couldn’t argue with that.
A Quiet Moment Before the New Beginning
Later, after the joking died down and Will finally left them alone to “go write speeches for the engagement party,” Y/N and Macklin stepped out onto the back patio again—the same place everything shifted the first time.
The city lights glowed below them. The night breeze was soft, cool.
Macklin wrapped an arm around her waist hesitantly. “Is this okay?”
Instead of answering, she tucked herself closer against him. His breath caught, and he rested his chin lightly on her head.
They stood there for a moment—just breathing, just existing, just feeling like something new had finally clicked into place.
“I really like you,” Y/N whispered.
Macklin’s fingers traced soft circles on her hip. “I really like you too.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”
“I didn’t mind waiting,” he said gently. “You were worth it.”
Her chest tightened in the best way.
“Besides,” he added with a grin, “I had Will as my personal cheerleader.”
In the distance, from inside the house, Will shouted, “YOU’RE WELCOME!”
They both burst out laughing.
When their laughter faded, Macklin took her hands, brushing his thumbs along her knuckles.
“So,” he said. “What happens now?”
Y/N smiled. “Whatever we want.”
Macklin leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I like the sound of that.”
She rose onto her toes, kissing him again—slow, sure, like sealing something that had been waiting far too long.
And when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.
“Will’s never going to shut up about this,” she murmured.
“Probably not,” Macklin agreed.
“Think we can survive that?”
He grinned. “As long as we’re together? Absolutely.”
Inside, Will yelled, “IF YOU KISS AGAIN YOU HAVE TO NAME YOUR FIRSTBORN AFTER ME!”
Y/N laughed against Macklin’s chest. “We’re not surviving him.”
“No,” Macklin chuckled, holding her closer. “But at least we’re in it together.”
And for the first time in a long time—everything felt exactly right.
