Hi love! Can I please get prompt 15 from the fluff list no. 1 with Cale Makar please?
There’s no further request other than that they’re best friends and turn into lovers - if possible :)
Thank you!! xx
list no.1, fluff prompt no.15: holding hands and neither of them knowing when (or wanting to) let go
It happens completely by accident. at least, you’re pretty sure it does.
you and cale are walking back from the beach after sunset, flip flops still dangling from your fingers while warm summer air sticks to your skin. the boardwalk is still crowded despite the late hour—music drifting from bars nearby, people laughing somewhere down the street, the distant crash of waves behind you.
cale is talking about something, but you’re not really listening anymore. because somewhere between crossing the street and weaving through a crowd of people, his hand found yours.
and fucking stayed there.
at first, it made sense. just a practical, friendly notion—when the crowd swelled, too many bodies, and cale grabbed your hand so you wouldn’t become separated.
completely normal between two friends.
except now you’re three blocks away from the busy part of town, walking down a quiet sidewalk with absolutely no reason for him to still be holding on. but for some reason, he is.
fingers warm against yours, loose but secure, thumb occasionally brushing absentmindedly across your knuckles while he keeps talking like nothing’s happening.
meanwhile your brain is actively short circuiting. because this isn’t how people who are supposedly just friends hold hands. right?
you risk a glance toward him, which you immediately clock as a bad idea.
the soft glow from the streetlights catches the side of his face, hair still messy from the ocean, pink and skin warm from the sun. he looks relaxed. completely comfortable. like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.
and somehow that makes it even worse.
“…and then landy almost dropped the entire tray,” cale finishes whatever story he’d been telling, looking down at you like he’s expecting a laugh.
but you just blink, “what?”
he grins slowly, amused. “you weren’t listening to a single word I just said, were you?”
“I was!”
“such a liar.” he teases, voice all low and teasing. hand flexing against yours. oh, so he does realize you’re still intertwined! you can’t decide if that’s better or worse than the alternative.
you look away quickly, only for your attention to immediately drop back down to your joined hands swinging softly between you.
unfortunately for you, cale notices that too.
the conversation dies for a second, lull filled by evening birds chirping and distant music from across the street. even though you’re both actively looking at your joined hands, neither of you let go.
your heartbeat suddenly feels very loud.
“this is…” you start without thinking, then stop once you realize you don’t even know what you’re going to say. not about this. about him.
“what?” he prompts, gently.
you hesitate. “nothing.”
cale’s mouth twitches slightly like he knows exactly what you were about to say, but he doesn’t press on the subject. he doesn’t need to.
another few steps pass, hands still intertwined like delicate vines. ones that still, neither of you are acknowledging.
at this point, it’s becoming a bit ridiculous.
“you know,” you start carefully, staring straight ahead, “usually people let go after crossing the street.”
“mhm.” his thumb sweeps over your knuckles again. still doesn’t let go. doesn’t even think about it.
your stomach flips stupidly. “so…”
“so?”
“you’re still doing it,” you swallow, look up at him, “holding my hand.”
finally, cale looks back down at you fully. there’s something softer in his expression now, quieter despite the noises all around. “do you want me to stop?”
“no.” the answer comes way too fast.
and both you freeze at the raw honesty of it. you because you’re mortified. cale because he’s like, so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.
his smile appears slowly after that. not teasing. far from cocky. just fond in ways that scream anything but friends.
“okay,” he says quietly. and then somehow, his fingers lace more securely through yours. tightening and grounding and your heart genuinely stumbles.
the rest of the walk home feels strange after that. but a good kind of strange. every accidental brush of his shoulder against yours suddenly means too much. every glance lingers longer than before. the air between you feels charged with something neither of you quite knows how to name yet.
when you finally reach the air bnb cale rented for the both of this summer, both of you stop near the front steps without needing to say anything.
he looks down at you.
you look at your hands, and then laugh like how they’re still intertwined is some sort of new discovery. “oh,” you muse softly, almost laughing now. “we’re still holding hands.”
“yeah.”but Instead of letting go, cale just smiles a little, before tugging you impossibly closer while warm summer wind moves through the quiet street around you.
surprised, you stumble into his chest. “what’s going on?”
“can I kiss you?”
your lips part, half shocked but also half giddy. because how is this your life? a beach vacation that he paid for, because he claimed you deserved it, and now he’s asking to kiss you. right on the sidewalk, sand still on your nose, and hands still fucking intertwined.
things I won’t let ai take away from human writers
em dash
“not x, not y, but z”
short sentence stacking as a stylistic choice
none of these belong to ai. these are all what human writers have been writing since day one, way before ai was invented. ai was trained to mimic how human writers write — so em dash, not x not y but z and short sentence stacking would never have been used by ai at all if ai hadn’t learned and mimicked them from human writers.
no, you are not “fighting against ai” by accusing every work that has em dash, not x not y but z or short sentence stacking in it as ai-generated, you are helping ai harm the writing community by engaging in witch hunt and scaring human writers away from creating/sharing their works for fear of being wrongly accused of using ai.
speculations, accusations and ai witch hunt harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
Will Smith x Reader
Angst / Fluff
Word Count: 5.2K
Warnings: references to harassment, blood, minor injuries (nothing major of either of those), not proof-read
Author’s note: I love a good friends-to-lovers situation if that hasn't been obvious yet hehe.
As always, feedback is very appreciated. Enjoy! 🩷
Everything was rubbing you the wrong way. The club was filled to the brim, the music was too loud, your skin felt too tight and the air was thick and smelled like sweaty, drunk people.
Sighing, you pushed your way through to the bar.
You hadn’t felt like coming in the first place. The Sharks game had gone into overtime and by the time the final whistle blew, you’d been stressed, tired and in the mood to join Will, your best friend, and Mack for their post-game debrief. Sure, it would’ve been filled with way too many hockey terms you wouldn’t understand, but you probably would’ve gotten a home-cooked meal and some back-scratching as a thank you for putting up with them.
But Kendra, your supposedly best friend since high school, had guilt tripped you into heading for a club with some others and you, being the people-pleaser you were, had eventually given in. Will had told you to call him when you wanted to be picked up and whilst that thought had crossed your mind approximately 27 times since you’d arrived, you’d decided to push through.
How bad could it be, right?
Very bad apparently, cause when you made your way back to the booth where you’d last seen your friends, you found it empty.
“Fucking fantastic.”, you mumbled, eyes sweeping the dancefloor for a glimpse of the four girls, but they were nowhere to be seen. And after checking the bar, the bathroom and the bar again without any sign of life, the sickening truth slowly crept into your brain: they’d left you behind.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise and it sure as hell shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, considering it pretty much reflected Kendra’s recent behaviour towards you, but the disappointment still lodged itself behind your ribs. Alongside with humiliation.
You knew that lately, you’d let her stomp all over you, but you were too much of a coward to stand up to her. Too afraid you could lose her – after all she had been your friend since high school. That meant something, right?
After finishing your drink, you left the empty glass at the bar; ready to head out and call Will – or an Uber as not even an hour had passed since you’d stepped into the club and you didn’t want to crash his and Mack’s evening this early.
A group of guys caught your attention as you were making your way over to the door. They were looking at you, giving you a once-over with some of them even smirking slightly as they talked amongst themselves. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were talking about you. And whilst usually, you’d just brush past them, they made you somewhat uncomfortable.
Call it a gut-feeling or intuition, but everything inside you was screaming not to go outside alone.
So instead, you turned around, ready to go back to the bar and wait there for Will – or the Uber – to arrive, but before you could even take another step, you collided with someone.
“Oh well, sweatheart, no need to shy away now, huh?”, he smirked as you took a step back instantly. His hair was gelled back, clothes scattered with high-end brand signs and the sly smile stretching his face told you everything about how much of a gift to the female world he thought he was.
“Sorry.”, you got out as politely as you possibly could. “Should watch where I’m going, I guess.”
You tried to push past him, but he just stepped into your way again. “No, no, you’re good. Actually, I’m rather pleased something as pretty as you ran into me.”
It took everything inside you not to make a face and cringe at his words. What the actual fuck.
“Yeah, well, I was actually about to leave, sooo…enjoy your night.”
With the way he looked at you, he made your skin crawl and you most definitely didn’t want to spend any more time with him. It was fight or flight and you belonged into the flight category, so you turned, ready to just run out of the club.
“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you back and before you knew it, he’d placed one hand on your bum. “I just want-“
“Let go of me you fucking perv.”, you hissed, trying to pull away, but his grip was strong – borderline painful even – and you struggled. The group of men that had gotten you into this misery in the first place, were cackling and encouraging that guy from behind you.
“Man she just doesn’t know yet she actually wants it.”
“Nice grip, dude.”
“She’s got a nice ass that one, wouldn’t mind a go myself.”
You couldn’t remember ever having felt this helpless as you struggled in that guys grip. All the slashing in his hold, pulling and pushing did nothing for you and you could feel your heartbeat picking up. The sounds and walls were closing in on you; panic was clearly taking over.
Will had been right, you most definitely should’ve attended that self-defence-class he’d suggested approximately 178 times.
“Girl, c’mon, you’re not going anywhere.”, he laughed. “Just relax, we’ll just have a drink an- ah fuck you, you bitch!”
You’d somehow managed to ram your knee between his legs, effectively hitting him, where it hurt most, but in his pain, he ended up knocking his elbow hard against your head which had you tumbling backwards and right into someone’s arms.
With panic still surging through your veins, you tried to get away immediately, scared it was just another guy trying to take advantage.
“Hey, you’re okay! Security’s already here.” Gentle hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. A woman. There were no words to express the relief overcoming you at the sight of her. She looked kind; your age and trustworthy. “Oh dear, we’ll have to get that cleaned.”
Following her line of sight with your fingers, you were shocked to find something sticky coating your forehead.
“No, no touching please. We don’t want it to get infected.”, she smiled, gently pulling your hand away from what seemed to be a bleeding wound. “It’s just a small cut, nothing major. Come with me.”
You didn’t question the way she wrapped her arm around your waist to steady you. Or the matter-of-fact way she led you past the bar and into a back room like it was the most normal thing in the world.
She’d just sat you down on a plush sofa when one of the bartenders materialised at her side with a glass of water. You eyed it sceptically when she held it out for you to take.
‘Never trust a stranger handing you a drink’ – your mother’s words echoed inside your mind.
“It’s okay, it’s just water. I promise.”, she smiled. “I’m Ella and the guy who brought the water is Jack. His brother owns the club and he’s my colleague. We’re both working at the hospital here in San Jose.”
You still weren’t quite sure if you could trust her, but considering your situation, you didn’t really have many options and she did sound genuine, so you accepted the glass with shaky hands.
“The cut isn’t major, but I’d like to take care of it anyway to avoid infection. Is that okay?”
After you’d nodded, she pulled out a first-aid-kit – from where you had no idea – and went to work on your forehead. She was quick and efficient, proving that she probably hadn’t lied about her profession and it stung only a little bit.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Her gentle eyes found yours for a moment, encouraging you to get it off your chest and after a flicker of hesitation you eventually told her everything.
How your friend had convinced you to come before abandoning you the second you stepped away for a moment. How you hadn’t wanted to go outside alone to call your ride and how that had caused you to end up with a cut right below your eyebrow.
“Shitty friends you have there.”
“Yeah, that tracks.”, you admitted quietly. “I think I let them walk over me for too long.”
The two of you talked a little longer until your hands finally stopped shaking so violently and you felt a little more like yourself and less like the woman who got assaulted and humiliated in a club.
“Want me to call someone to take you home? I’d drive you, but I promised Jack to wait for him.”
“Yeah.”, you sighed as you fished your phone out of your purse. “Will, please.”
With him having been your best friend since the beginning of your BC days, Will would be able to tell something was wrong one word into the conversation and you didn’t trust yourself not to start crying immediately the second he’d ask what’s wrong, so it was the safer option to let Ella call him.
He’d probably have a heart-attack. But given the situation it really was the least of your worries. You just wanted him to pick you up and hold you.
“Hi, this is Ella. – Yeah no, she’s here. She’s okay. – I promise. – Erm, she doesn’t know where they are. – Kinda what I said, too. Look…can you pick her up? She’s asking for you. – Yes, of course. – Sure thing. Just ask for me at the bar. – Okay, thank you. Just…she’s okay, please drive safely. – Yeah, bye Will.”
She handed you your phone back with a smile. “He sounds nice. He really cares about you.”
“He’s the best.”
“Bet he is. He sounded like he was ready to set the world on fire when I answered the phone instead of you.”
You blushed at her words and the thought that she wasn’t even wrong. Will was fiercely protective of you and his heart had probably dropped to the pit of his stomach the second he’d answered the phone to a stranger. He’d probably gone through all sort of horror before Ella was able to tell him you were okay.
Ella never left your side while waiting for Will to show up. You told her a couple of times that you were okay and she could go back outside to her friends, but she refused; simply stated that she’d promised Will to stay with you.
“Yeah, but honestly, that show was so crap. That dude could’ve tak-“
“y/n!”
Still a little shaken up from the earlier scruffle, you flinched at the sound of Will suddenly bursting into the room. His expression dropped the second he saw you – pale face, a freshly cleaned cut right below your eyebrow. “Oh my god.”
“Will.”, you whispered as you got up on shaky legs. By whatever miracle, you’d held it together perfectly just until now, but seeing him had your nervous system finally giving up all defences.
“Hey.” He’d barely opened his arms when you collapsed into him. Sobs wrecking your body had him tightening his hold on you immediately. His heart hurt at seeing you like this and knowing something major must’ve happened to have you – a strong woman – shaking in his arms like a leaf in the wind.
“You’re okay.”, he whispered as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. “I got you. You’re safe.”
Will loosened one of his arms to rub up and down your spine in hopes of calming you down so he could take you home. He felt your fingers desperately pressing into his back, gripping at his hoodie in an attempt to hold on for dear life.
As if there was a world in which he’d let you go.
Will didn’t let go of you until he felt you loosening your grip and pulling away from him a little and when he grabbed your face between his hands and his thumbs brushed away your tears, it was so gentle, that it had goosebumps raising all over your skin.
The worry clouding his blue eyes had a lump forming in the back of your throat. This overwhelming feeling of relief at the sight of him, had made you forget entirely about the fact that he’d probably abandoned Mack and raced here like his life depended on it because he wasn’t sure if you’re actually okay – all while going through the god-knows-how-many stages of worry.
“I’m okay.”, you whispered hoarsely as you gripped his wrists gently. He was still holding your face between his hands and looking at you as if you were his whole world, but the small smile on your lips had some of the tension in his shoulders loosening.
“Yeah?” His gaze flicked to the cut before locking back on yours. He’d ask about what had happened later – or tomorrow. Tonight was just about making sure you were okay and safe. “Promise?”
“Promise.”, you nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. Where else would I be?” Leaning in, he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Wanna go home?”
“Yes, please.”, you sighed. The tiredness catching up with you now that your body knew you were finally safe.
“Okay.” With a final kiss to your forehead Will pulled away and reached for a hoodie, you hadn’t seen when he’d come in. “Here, it’s cold outside.”
“Thanks, Will.”
Just like all of his clothes, the hoodie was too big on you. The sleeves buried your hands and the hood covered pretty much half of your face, but you couldn’t love it more if you tried. It made you feel warm and safe and his smell surrounding you never failed to make your heart calm down.
The sight of you in his clothes would never fail to make Will feel all sorts of things, but today, the worry about you had made him realise something fundamental when it came to his feelings and his heart did something very, very complicated in his chest the longer his gaze stayed on your adorably hoodie-swallowed self.
He reached out and pulled you into his side, arm around your shoulders, before turning to Ella.
“Thank you for taking care of her and staying with her. I really appreciate it and I hope you know neither of us takes it for granted.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”, she smiled. “I didn’t do much anyway, just tried to be the person I’d like to have by my side in a situation like that.”
“Still, thank you. That was really kind of you.”, you added. “Get home safely, okay?”
“Of course.” Ella squeezed your hand. “You guys, too.”
Will smiled before turning back to you. “Let’s get you home then.”
On your way out, Will made sure to shield the both of you from the looks of everyone else as best as he could with your hoods pulled low over your faces and you tucked safely into his side. The last thing you needed was your face plastered all over the gossip news. Well, and he for sure didn’t fancy the headlines either.
He was quick in getting you in the passenger seat of his car and buckled in before shutting the door. He just wanted you to get out of here as soon as possible.
“Hey, Will, wait!”
Will was in his right mind to ignore however was calling for him as any sort of interaction with a fan was the last thing on the list of things he fancied right now, but the good person inside of him turned anyway.
You were safe in his car, the blacked-out windows wouldn’t allow a glimpse of you and one photo probably wouldn’t kill him.
“Look- oh, Ella.”
“Sorry.” She sounded slightly out of breath. “I just…here.”
Will just stared at the napkin she was holding out to him. Her phone number in black digits against the white paper. The look he gave her was one of the what-the-fuck-ones anyone would receive for the sheer audacity of using a situation like this to their own advantage.
When he made no move to take the napkin, Ella smiled a little. “It’s for her. I know who you are, yes, but the number is for her. Seriously. If she feels like it tomorrow, she can let me know if she’s feeling any better.”
Will was no stranger to the desperate and weird ideas fans came up with to try and get in touch with him or his friends, so while Ella sounded genuine, he was still very hesitant.
But Ella just grinned. “I’m gay, Will. As pretty as you are, I’m really not interested. The number is for her.” She nudged the napkin in his direction again and whilst he was still not 100% sold on the entire thing, he took it and put it into the pocket of his hoodie anyway.
“I’m new to San Jose. I barely know anyone so making friends doesn’t seem like a bad idea, you know? I also feel like y/n could do with new friends.”
“You’re not wrong there.”, Will chuckled. “Alright, I’ll give it to her tomorrow and yeah, maybe she’ll message you. You seem like a decent person.”
“High praise there.”, she laughed. “Alright, I’ll let you go now. Get home safely.” She squeezed his bicep and smiled up at him again before turning and heading back into the club.
Will shook his head, smiling to himself. She’d definitely make a great friend for you.
He was quick in making his way around his car and hop into the driver’s seat only to find you staring out the window. “Feeling okay?”
“Tired.” And jealous. “Are you going to call her?”
Focussing on the streets flying by, you didn’t see the small, knowing smile on Will’s face when he reached over to squeeze your thigh. “No.”
The small hum you let out was more than enough for him to know you didn’t believe him, but that was okay. He knew you, you’d ask again. Ella had been genuinely kind, caring and beautiful – she was pretty much everything you wanted for him.
You just couldn’t see what he was seeing: Everything of that and more in none other than you.
Lately, the two of you had been toeing the line between best friends and something more a little more intensely. He’d seen the looks you gave him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Or the way you’d get a jealous whenever Cat introduced a new girl to him in hopes of finding him a girlfriend. Or the way you subtly searched for his proximity more often.
Will had noticed it all. But you hadn’t realised yet, that you were the person he was looking for in a room full of people. That you were the girl he’d choose first in any situation.
Once you’d finally made it to your apartment complex, Will pushed the car in park and was out of the car before you could even reach for your seatbelt. He opened your door and helped you out before pulling you into his side.
With the adrenaline finally wearing off, tiredness took over. You were pretty much slumped into Will’s side and tripping over your own feet and if it wasn’t for his strong grip around you, you’d probably already landed face first on the yucky hallway floor.
Once inside, he ushered you into your bedroom before locking up, getting rid of his shoes and making his way to you only to find you flopped down right on top of the duvet. Will smiled softly.
“I know you’re tired and all, but you’ll hate me tomorrow if I don’t force you to remove your make-up now.”
Shaking your head, you just made an unintelligible sound.
“C’mon pretty girl, you know you’ll complain about having to was your bedsheets again if you fall asleep like this.” He patted your thigh gently. “Also with you starfished like that, there’s no room for me, you know?”
“You’re staying?”
Will laid down next to you as best as he could with the little remaining space and when you turned your head and opened your eyes, he was so close, your noses were almost touching.
“Only if you want me to.”, he whispered lowly.
Your hand found his on top of the sheets; fingers carefully slipping between his.
“Always.”, you said and his heart did something complicated in his chest.
For a while, you just stared into his bright blue eyes, thinking about just how much you really wanted to kiss him and when he moved, for a split second you thought he actually would, but then you felt him pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Okay. I’ll stay then.”
You weren’t sure for how long you stayed like that, but after a while Will pulled you up and forced you into the bathroom. He took your make-up off so carefully, your chest threatened to explode with warmth and when he finished with a kiss on top of your head, all you wanted was to fall asleep in his arms.
Back in your bedroom, you quickly changed into your pyjamas before slipping into bed. The slightly too cool sheets made you shiver.
“You could just wear long-sleeved stuff, you know? Would keep you warm during the night.”, Will mentioned while stripping himself down to a t-shirt and his boxers.
“Yeah…but that’s what I have you for, right?”
“I’m not here every night, though.”
You rolled your eyes at him and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘You should be’ before turning onto your side.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”, you hummed.
Will laughed as he finally found his place next to you in bed. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled softly as he reached out and rubbed your arm gently. “y/n?”
You hummed quietly.
“I don’t know what happened tonight and you don’t have to tell me, not right now or ever, but you’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah.”, you confirmed quietly. “Thanks, Will.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me for being there for you, y/n.” He squeezed your arm gently.
“I know, but still. I really appreciate you.”
With your back to him, silence fell over the room. Will’s hand stayed on your arm for a while, gently caressing your skin in an attempt to make you fall asleep, but as much as you wanted to and as tired as your body was, your mind was running a million miles a minute.
Moments like this made you question if what the two of you had really wasn’t more than a regular friendship. You liked him way more than that, you’d admitted that much to yourself a while ago, but you weren’t quite sure if Will reciprocated those feelings.
Sure, he was touchy and a little flirty at times, but that was just his outgoing and open persona, right? As much as you wanted to believe that he was into you, a huge part of your brain was convinced that someone like him would never fall for someone like you.
Just your heart hadn’t gotten the message yet.
Will knew you weren’t asleep yet. Your shoulders were still too tight, your breathing not laboured enough yet. He could only assume that whatever had happened in that club tonight was still bothering you and he hated that he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.
“Can I-“
“You should call her, Will.”, you said suddenly. “She was nice and caring and…and you deserve someone like her.”
Oh.
“She’s gay and I’m not interested.”, he hummed.
“But you would be if she-” A yawn rudely interrupted you mid-sentence and you could hear Will’s soft giggle behind you. “- if she wasn’t gay?”
“No.”
“Why not? She was-”
“y/n.”, Will interrupted you softly. He wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled you flush against his chest. His warmth and smell grounding you almost immediately as you all but melted into him.
“I’m serious, Will.”
“So am I.”, he smiled, nose buried in your freshly washed hair.
“But why?”
“Because she’s not you.”
And the way he said it so matter-of-factly punched the air out of your lungs. It rendered you speechless.
Silence settled over the bedroom again, only that this time no one had the intention of breaking it again. At least not for long.
Will had expected your silence. He knew you needed some time to process what he’d just put out in the open. Cat had told him that you never believed anyone telling you he liked you the way you liked him. It was just the way your brain worked; the way your insecurities stopped you from believing anyone could possibly like you more than platonically.
His hold on you tightened slightly as if trying to prove that he meant what he’d said. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, perfect.”
“Good.”, he smiled before pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Go to sleep, y/n. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Night, Will.” Your hand found his and you slipped your fingers between his. And just like that he felt you relaxing into him.
“Night, y/n.” He leaned over, kissed your cheek gently and dropped back into the pillows. And with you safe in his arms he waited until your breathing evened out and you were sound asleep before allowing himself to drift off.
**
The next morning, you woke up to the gentle sunrays illuminating your room. You were sprawled out on your side of the bed, your face half-buried in your pillow and overall comfortable, but the warmth from last night was missing and when you reached out, your hand only found an empty space next to you.
You briefly wondered if you’d imagined it all or – and that would be a lot worse – he regretted everything and haft left you behind, but the spot where he’d slept was still warm and when you rolled over and burrowed your face in his pillow, his scent was still there.
Staying there for a second, you imagined a time where waking up next to him was a regular occurrence. A time in which he was your boyfriend and you could cuddle him whenever you wanted.
She isn’t you. Oh how you prayed he’d meant that.
Reluctantly you forced yourself out of bed. The though of him having left already sat heavy in your chest, especially as you could recall him mentioning there was no practice today, but you knew you couldn’t hide in bed all day and pretend he’d come back any second.
The hoodie he’d brought to the club – proof that you hadn’t imagined it all – was draped over the chair in front of your vanity and without further ado, you stripped out of your top and threw the hoodie on.
After brushing your teeth quickly, you padded towards the kitchen. Halfway through the hallway, the smell of coffee hit your nostrils, convincing you that Will was indeed still in your apartment. But his voice – unusually loud and angry – stopped you dead in his tracks.
“No, you shut the hell up and listen now, Kendra. You’ve been treating her like shit for the past, I don’t know months. Rain-checking on her every single time something apparently better came up, not paying attention to anything she said or wanted or asked for. All you’ve been interested in was what’s best for you and you only. You’ve been a shitty friend Kendra, a really shitty, self-centred and egoistic friend and I refuse to continue watching you walking all over her and her feelings any longer. She’s an amazing person, Kendra, she’s kind and funny, attentive, protective, smart, and caring. She’s beautiful and one of the best people I’ve ever met. And she doesn’t deserve to be treated like anything less. She deserves someone who invests as much into a friendship she does and if you can’t see that, you don’t deserve to be in her life. At all. So either think about it or don’t, I don’t care, but don’t contact her again until you’ll be the great friend she deserves.”
You couldn’t see him hanging up, but the silence after his monologue said as much. It took you a second to process it all; to process that he’d had your back without you knowing – technically. That he’d called your so-called best friend and stood up for you like nothing else in the world mattered.
She’s beautiful and one of the best people I’ve ever met. And she doesn’t deserve to be treated like anything less.
It echoed in your mind as you finally made it into the kitchen. Will stood with his hands pressed flat on your kitchen counter – dressed in a t-shirt and the pair of grey joggers he’d left at yours a while ago.
His head hung low, a deep sigh leaving his lips and you knew it was because the whole situation was hurting him. It was hurting him because he knew how much you were hurting. He’d seen how you’d shrunk a little bit more with every time Kendra had stood you up; how you’d slowly lost your spark and there had been nothing he could’ve done but watch.
Until now. Until she’d left you alone to deal with whatever had left you with a split eyebrow. Until he’d had enough.
Quickly, you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around him. Your hands rested flat against his toned stomach, face pressed against his warm back.
“Thank you.”
“y/n.”, Will hummed as he turned and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “No need to thank me. It was long overdue.”
You just smiled and leaned against his chest, concentrating on the way his heart was beating evenly against your cheek. Will was warm and smelled like home, he was comforting and everything you wanted.
She’s not you.
“Want some breakfast?”
You tipped your head back so your chin was resting against his chest and you could catch his soft gaze.
“Made by you? Always.”, he smiled. And before he let you go, he kissed your forehead.
As Will watched you putting some breakfast together – you mindful as always that he couldn’t eat certain things – he couldn’t help but think how amazing you were. You deserved people in your corner who were genuine and wanted your best.
“y/n?”
“Hm?” When you turned towards him, you were faced with the napkin from yesterday evening dangling between Will’s fingers.
“You need new friends. Ella said the same. She’s new in town and looking for friends. Maybe you should call her.”
He smirked as he delivered that last line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “She looked like she was interested.”, you shrugged. “Not my fault.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh, but you are. I can tell.”, he teased and stepped into your space. “There’s this cute little frown appearing between your brows when I talk to girls.”
Will brushed his thumb between your eyebrows. “And you refuse to look me in the eyes when I talk to you afterwards.
With gentle fingers, he grabbed your chin to keep your gaze on his. His blue eyes stared into yours and you hated how your heart fluttered in your chest.
“I meant it, y/n.”, he stressed softly. “I’m not interested in anyone other than you.”
And then he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours like it was the easiest thing in the world. And because it was, you melted into his embrace and kissed him back.
╰ Synopsis You’ve always called Macklin cute, thinking it’s sweet and harmless, but it drives him crazy because he thinks you don’t want him in the way he wants you.
tags/contains Macklin Celebrini x fem!bsf!reader. Fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, kind of slow burn, shy Macklin, count how many time the word cute is mentioned, use of y/n, 1.9k words, requested.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. The pic I’m talking about in the fic is the one from Olympics because genuinely that’s the cutest picture I’ve ever seen, so yes in this fic they make up during the Olympics.
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
If there was one thing in the world that Macklin hated, it was the way you always called him cute.
Well, hate was a strong word.
Macklin didn’t absolutely hate it when you called him cute. There were times it felt nice, like when you’d scroll through old baby photos his mom had texted you, and you’d coo, “Look at baby Mack, so cute!” He’d duck his head, cheeks burning, but the shyness came with warmth because it was harmless.
Back then, he was still figuring out how to fill out his frame, still the kid everyone babied a little. But now it kind of felt annoying.
He was 19, standing 6’0, carrying 190 pounds of solid muscle that came from endless hours in the weight room and on the ice. He’d bulked up noticeably since his rookie year; broader shoulders, thicker legs, the kind of build that let him drive the net without getting shoved off.
In the 25-26 season, he was already at 29 goals and 54 assists, a Sharks team that finally looked like it had a future because of him. Alternate captain some nights.
He wasn’t a puppy anymore. He was a man who could bench his own bodyweight, who absorbed hits from guys twice his age and still finished checks. He wanted you to see that, and to treat him like the big guy he actually was.
But instead, you kept saying cute.
And the worst part? You said it about everything small and sweet. A puppy trotting by on the sidewalk during your daily walks together? “Aww, so cute!” A kid in a tiny Sharks hat waving at him after a game? “Look how cute that little guy is!” It wasn’t jealousy exactly, he wasn’t competing with dogs or toddlers but it lumped him in with them.
Another worst thing was that you weren’t even dating. If you had been boyfriend, girlfriend, something with labels and night kisses and mornings tangled in sheets; maybe the “cute” thing wouldn’t have landed like a slap every time.
Maybe he could’ve laughed it off, tugged you closer by the waist, murmured something cocky like, “Yeah? Wait ’til you see what else I can do that’s cute,” before proving exactly how not-cute he could be. In that version of things, “cute” would’ve been foreplay, a tease, a private joke between two people who already knew the heat underneath.
But you weren’t dating. You were just you and him: best friends, the girl who’d been there since forever. The one he could show up to unannounced, bruised and moody, and you’d still open the door without hesitation. The one he thought about way too much when the lights were off and the condo was quiet.
Macklin didn’t remember exactly when the feelings had started. Maybe they’d been there all along. Maybe they’d crept in slow when you laughed too hard at his dumb jokes, every time you patched him up after a fight. Either way, he’d been too stupid to name it until it was too loud to ignore.
In your perspective, it was totally harmless. Calling Macklin cute had always felt like the most natural thing in the world, the same as breathing. You never once thought it could hurt him. You’d noticed the way he sometimes turned his face away when the word slipped out, cheeks going pink, jaw tightening just a bit.
But you’d chalked it up to shyness. Macklin was shy in the sweetest ways, when you complimented his new haircut, when you hugged him too long after games, when you caught him staring at you across the room like he’d forgotten how words worked. That flush, that quick duck of his head made your chest ache in the best way. You loved seeing him like that.
You really did think he was cute. Not in a diminutive way, not like you were patting him on the head and calling it a day. Cute in the way his whole face lit up when he scored and he’d do that little fist pump shrug combo like he was surprised he’d done it again. Cute in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, cute in the way he’d sprawl on your couch looking exhausted and impossibly beautiful all at once.
Anytime a new picture of him popped up, you’d stop scrolling and zoom in. His smile, all teeth and triumph, cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Every single one made you melt a little more. There wasn’t a person on the planet who could unravel you like he did. Not with grand gestures, just by being Macklin, by existing in the same space as you, close enough to touch, far enough that you ached with it.
To no one’s surprise, you traveled to Italy with Macklin for the Olympics. He’d known Italy was one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit since high school.
When he made the Team Canada roster, he didn’t hesitate. “Come with us,” he’d said casually. “My family’s going. You can crash in the hotel, I want you there.” His parents had loved the idea; his mom had already booked your room before you could protest.
Tonight was one of those casual evenings. Canada had practice earlier for tomorrow’s quarterfinal; his family had retreated to their rooms after dinner. It was around 7pm, the city lights twinkling outside your window.
You and Macklin were side by side on your hotel bed, backs against the headboard, legs stretched out. He was in gray sweats, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. You had yours open to Pinterest, hunting for new nail inspo for when you got home.
The feed loaded slowly on hotel wifi. Then a photo popped up on your home page: Macklin during warmups, red jersey hugging his shoulders, helmet tilted just so, stick gripped tight. The angle caught the focused set of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks from the cold rink, eyes sharp under the visor but with that tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
You gasped out loud. Macklin’s head snapped toward you. “What? Show me.”
“Oh my gosh,” you breathed, already zooming in. “This is the cutest pic I’ve ever seen.”
He leaned over, expecting maybe a photo of kittens or one of those viral baby animal reels you sent him constantly. “Lemme see-”
You turned the screen toward him fully. His eyes landed on the photo of himself, in full Olympic gear, looking every bit the focused sniper who’d been tearing up the tournament. He stared at the screen, then immediately looked back down at his own phone, jaw clenching.
You didn’t notice anything at first. “Mack, that’s such an adorable face expression. Look at your little smile. Like you’re plotting to score the next one.”
He didn’t respond right away, he kept scrolling, thumb moving too fast. “No, it’s not. It’s just another random picture they took of me..”
You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Nooo, it’s my new favorite picture. I’m putting it on one of my home screen widgets.”
“Y/n.” His voice came out low, he didn’t snap; he’d never snap at you but he was annoyed. “Can you just stop?”
You blinked, lowering the phone. “Stop what?”
“Calling it cute. Calling me cute.” He set his phone face down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not adorable. It’s just me doing my job.”
“But it is adorable,” you insisted, softer now, confused. “The way your cheeks are pink from the cold, that tiny grin, you look happy. I love it.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders tense. “That’s the problem. You love the happy, focused puppy version. Not..” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Not anything else.”
“Mack,” you started gently, “I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t.” He cut you off. “But it’s every time like I’m still the kid you met years ago.” He finally looked at you. “I’m not and I don’t want to be that to you.”
Macklin didn’t know what he expected when he said that out loud but he’d carried the words around for so long, that saying them now felt inevitable. He wanted you and maybe this hotel room in Milan, was finally the right time.
You stared at him, eyes wide. “Okay.”
He exhaled, shoulders dropping. You paused, shifting so your knee brushed his. “Then what do you want to be?”
Macklin shrugged, gaze dropping to the space between you. He couldn’t look at you right now. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me, Mack.” Your voice was gentle, coaxing. You reached out, fingers brushing along his jaw lightly.
He shook his head once, catching your wrist in his hand to pull it away before the touch unraveled him completely. His thumb brushed the inside of your wrist. “This is gonna sound stupid, but.. I just want you to think I’m good looking. Not just cute.” He swallowed. “It makes me think you don’t want me the way I want you. And yeah, maybe I’m being an idiot right now, confessing like this in the middle of the freaking Olympics, but-”
“Mack!”
He stopped rambling, eyes snapping up to yours. “Do you really think I don’t find you attractive?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You never say it like that.”
You let out a soft laugh. “Just because I haven’t exactly said the words doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” You moved closer, turning so you were facing each other fully on the bed. You lifted your free hand, fingers gentle under his chin, tilting his face up until he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “If anything, you’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”
The compliment landed softly, his cheeks flushed deeper, pink creeping up from his neck but this time it wasn’t embarrassment.
You smiled and started to lean in.
He met you halfway and your mouths brushed together. He deepened the kiss as his hand found the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair; yours slid to his shoulder, gripping the soft fabric of his long sleeve. You sucked lightly on his bottom lip, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat that sent heat curling through you both.
When you pulled back, both of you were smiling, stupid and breathless and a little dazed.
Macklin’s voice came out rough. “That.. that was nice to hear from you.” He swallowed, thumb brushing your cheek. “I think the same about you.”
You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his skin as you pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Took you long enough to say it.”
“Me?” He huffed, but there was no bite in it. “You’re the one who kept calling me something like it was a personality trait.”
“Maybe it is,” you teased, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But handsome fits better.”
Macklin leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him so your shoulders pressed together. You both settled in, he took your right hand in his, lacing your fingers without thinking, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles.
You reached for your phone with your free hand, still open to that photo of him, “You know,” you said, tilting the screen toward him again, “I really might make this my Instagram profile picture.”
He huffed a laugh, glancing at it, then at you. “Yeah, sure. Maybe once we make it official to the public.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh?” You say as you leaned your head on his shoulder.