I wanted to put a little blurb about me, and add an easy spot for you guys to access what I write! I am an avid hockey, coffee, and outdoorsy person. I spend all my free time with my dog, who is adventurous as I am. I started writing because I had too many ideas floating around in my head with these players, and I wanted to have a place for my writing to be enjoyed by others.
I want this to be a safe space where you comment how you feel, and feel free to always request or reach out to me ❤️
Prompt: you rarely sleepwalk, so of course you end up sleepwalking while staying with will’s family during the summer. but luckily will is quick to help you
Warnings: sleepwalking (which I’ve only experienced a handful of times with people so I’m hoping this is accurate)
requested!
You were over the moon when Will’s mom Colleen called you one afternoon asking for both you and Will to come stay at their lake house in Boston during the off season. You guys were on a plane in an instant back to where Will grew up.
You’ve visited Boston only a handful of times, being born and raised half the country away didn’t make for much time for you to be in that area.
So, you and Will did it all. He showed you everything he loves, you’ve done boat days, fishing, golfing, shopping town days, you name it. Boston, had begun to feel like your home too, or a home away from home as you tell Will.
By a week into the trip you are exhausted, but that good kind of exhausted where you feel so at peace and so happy. But, that’s what you think triggered it. Not that you could blame anyone else for your lack of sleep. After all, it was you who chose to stay up every night around the fire with Will and his sister Grace, and it was you who insisted on sneaking out in the dark for a midnight lake runs with Will.
So tonight, the family also equally exhausted, all turned in early. After your shower, washing off a mix of sunscreen, tanning oil and lake water, you walk into the room you and Will are staying in, drop your towel, and pick up his sharks t-shirt. It fits you in that perfect way, coming down to mid thigh. So again, it was you who chose to stay up with Will as he showed you just how much he loved the look of you in his clothing.
But now, it is past 1am, and Will is sprawled out over the bed, his arms reaching out like they are searching for you, only your side of the bed is cold.
—
Colleen walks slowly down the stairs to the kitchen, slowly blinking sleep out of her eyes, but she freezes as she hears a faint clicking coming from downstairs. Clicking which sounds like the door lock on the sliding glass doors that lead to the patio.
She frowns, walking fully up. And as she slowly looks around the corner, she sees you.
You’re standing in front of the doors, your hand pulling uselessly on the lock. Your hair is curly from all the lake water, but plopped in a huge bun on your head, pieces falling down on the sides of your face. Will’s Sharks t-shirt covers your frame, but it’s large enough on you that it leans off one of your sun tanned shoulders.
“Honey?” She says, squinting a bit as she walks closer to you.
But you don’t look towards her, it’s almost like you didn’t even hear her. You just keep pulling on the lock, your breathing labored, panicked sounding almost.
“Sweetie.” She says, a bit more firmly but still coated in softness and comfort.
Your head moves towards her at that. As Colleen takes in your appearance her heart hammers. You look… different. Your eyes are glassy and slightly squinted. Your body is stiff and you seem like you’re floating somewhere else.
That’s when it hits her, she remembers it clear as day. A phone call she had with her son a long time ago when she asked how you were doing. Will had told her about this.
“She’s okay. Work’s been taking a lot out of her recently, she actually started sleepwalking occasionally.”
“Sleepwalking?” Colleen parroted back to him.
“Yeah, it’s rare. She only does it when she’s overly tired. Freaked me out the first time, I honestly didn’t know she was asleep.”
So Colleen makes sure her expression is soft and loving, her normal expression when she is talking to you, and she listens as you finally manage to speak.
“I have to get him.” You mumble, your voice so soft she could have easily missed it.
“Get who, honey?” Colleen asks you.
“Rigney.” You say, turning back towards the lock.
Colleen’s eyes flick to the chair in the living room, where Rigney is lying, perfectly safe, and still asleep. She glances back to you, wanting nothing more than to show you the family’s dog is inside, but it seems evident that you’re not abandoning the door without some persuasion.
“Rigney’s inside already, sweetie.” Colleen says very gently, trying not to startle you. “He’s in his normal chair in the living room.”
“No. He’s cold. Colleen he’s out there.” You say, a slight panic starting to rise in your tone. Your glossy eyes get glossier as you beg her to hear you, beg her to listen to you.
“Okay, okay.” She says, stepping closer and noting the shaking of your hands, and the way your chest moves rapidly. “Why don’t you sit down quick and I’ll go grab Will. He’ll help us look okay?”
“Will?” You question, and for a second she swears she can see the fully awake you at the sound of her son’s name.
“That’s right.” Colleen says, leading you so carefully that you think it’s your choice to sit down. “You stay right here while I grab him, alright?”
You only nod in response, but your eyes stay locked on the doors. “Tell Will to hurry, he’s all alone out there, I don’t want him to be scared.” You whimper, and Colleen’s heart cracks at how upset you sound. She’s a mother after all, she wants to fix this, wants to protect you from this, but she knows it’s not her that you need. So Colleen moves quickly, trying to stay silent so she doesn’t wake the rest of the house. She opens the bedroom door, and goes to the side of the bed that Will is sleeping on.
“Will.” She says, setting her hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. “Will.” She says again, a bit louder as she shakes him lightly.
Will opens his eyes, and takes only a second before he’s looking at his mom in worry. That’s when he notices you’re gone, and the sheets are cold enough to tell him you’ve been gone for quite some time. Will’s heart leaps out of his chest, you missing, his mom looking a bit panicked.
“Mom-“
“She’s alright. She’s downstairs, I think she might be sleep walking.”
Will didn’t need to hear anything else, he didn’t bother with a shirt or shoes as he starts going down the steps. He knows not to startle you, so as he walks into the kitchen he does so as calmly as possible.
“Baby?” He asks, as he sees you. Sees the way you’re stiff, and as if you’re not really here. You turn your face towards his at the sound of his voice.
“Will, he’s out there.” You say, standing up in panic as Will makes his way over to you. He’s crouching a bit, trying to stay eye level with you.
“Who’s out there?” Will asks you, and it kills him to not reach out and tuck your curly strands of hair behind your ears.
“Rigney.” You say, and you choke on the name.
Colleen looks at Will, and he tracks her eyes over to the chair where Rigney is still sound asleep.
“Okay, well let me sit down and put my shoes on and we’ll go look.” Will says, secretly trying to lead you into the living room. You follow him blindly, like you always do.
But then your brain freezes when you hear the familiar shake of metal dog tags, and all of a sudden a wet nose comes and pokes your shin.
“See baby? He’s inside, he’s safe.”
“But he was-“ you start to say, pointing to the doors. “He was out there, and he was cold.” You try to justify.
Rigney jumps on the couch, and Will watches as you reach your hand out and touch the soft fur of the dog.
“He’s warm, he’s here with us.” Will comforts you as tears leak from your eyes. “Hey, hey.” He says, and even in your sleeping state you throw yourself against his chest. The warmth of his skin grounds you, just as much as the familiar smell of his body wash.
Colleen smiles sadly and looks away as Will comforts you. His hand on the back of your head, while one runs up and down your spine through his t-shirt. He waits, while throwing small comforting words in here and there until your cries soften.
“He’s safe?” You ask one more time, and Will smiles at you, your glossy eyes shining in the light of the moon that’s filling the living room.
“He’s safe. Just like you.” He says. “Do you want him to sleep with us tonight? That way we can watch him?” Will asks, and you just nod, tears back in a steady stream down your cheeks. His wipes them away with his thumb, and your eyes stay glued to the dog like he might vanish if you look away.
Getting you to believe Rigney was in the house wasn’t very challenging, but getting you back up the stairs proved to be more difficult than he thought. Rigney of course bolted straight up, making a beeline for the room. You took the steps slowly, Will next to you the entire time. Halfway through you just stopped, and he quietly and calmly reassures you that Rigney is probably sitting on your pillows waiting for you.
Colleen stayed behind you the entire time, far enough away so you don’t feel crowded, but close enough that if for whatever reason you fell backwards she was there to catch you.
But most importantly, they didn’t rush you. They took each step one at a time, and in your hazy fog and confusion, you let Will guide you. By the time Colleen made it to the top step, she wished you both a goodnight, and unknown to you looked at her son, quietly asking if he’s got you. He nods, and turns your body slowly to get into the bedroom.
Sure enough, Rigney has taken over your side of the bed. His head is resting on your pillow as if he’s using it, and for a smaller dog he manages to take up a lot of room.
Will walks you to his side of the bed instead, pulling back the covers and helping you get tucked in. Will slips in next to you, keeping you in the middle while he was dangerously close to the edge. But he pulls you flush against him, your back on his chest, your legs finding comfort tucked under his.
You don’t speak, you just close your eyes, listening to the soft words from your boyfriend. Little “sleep baby” or “you’re safe” or kisses on the top of your head.
To no surprise of Will, it didn’t take long for you to completely pass out, but Will stayed up for a little longer. Almost afraid that you’d manage to slip out again without him knowing. The thought of you getting outside in the dark, alone, with no shoes on, and near an open body of water was enough to scare him senseless. But he reminds himself too, that you’re right here.
He finally drifts off with the image of you sleeping in his chest burned into his brain, not that he’d ever want to forget it anyway.
—
As morning came, Colleen makes her way up the stairs to knock on the door. She didn’t tell anyone else what happened last night, not knowing if you’d be embarrassed or not. As she’s faced with the door it’s cracked slightly, Will must have left it open last night only a sliver in case Rigney needed something.
She opens it a tiny bit more, just enough to poke her head in to wake you guys for breakfast. But she stops, and nothing comes out of her mouth as she takes in the sight before her.
The three of you are curled into each other. Rigney spread out but pressed against your chest, and Will pressed up against your back. The three of you completely sound asleep. The dog and Will guarding each side of you like neither of them wanted you to slip away.
Colleen doesn’t move for a better part of a minute. And after she witnesses yet again how much her son adores you, she only smiles, watching as Will shifts slightly but just to pull you in deeper, the action making you pull Rigney in as well. She closes the door just a bit before she lets out a soft laugh, and a warmth different than the sun washes over the house.
Prompt: telling connor about how easily you faint was not your favorite thing you’ve done ever. but now as you feel it coming at the end of the season dinner, you are grateful to have such an amazing boyfriend at your side
Warning: fainting
A/N: guys I’m mourning not seeing him play like you wouldn’t believe, so send me all your Bedsy requests
requested!
If both you and Connor had to pick the perfect Saturday night, it wouldn’t be dressing up and going out. It would be dressing down and being tangled together on Connor’s couch in his apartment which is basically both of yours at this point.
But, he also never passes up the opportunity to see you dressed up. And every time he catches glimpses of your glowing skin or your lip gloss reflecting the sparkling lights, Connor forgets everything he thinks he knows.
He forgets that you guys are at the end of the season event, he forgets he’s around team mates and important staples in the Blackhawks franchise. All he knows, all he sees, all he cares about, is you.
Connor was a goner from the first moment he laid his eyes on you, and you weren’t any better.
And now here you both are, at a dinner after the ceremony. The team and their significant others dressed to the nines. You’re sitting at the long table reserved in the back room of some stunning restaurant in Chicago. Connor to your right, his hand ghosting your shoulder every once in a while as you’re leaned to the left talking to Frank Nazar’s girlfriend.
Everything was good, everything was light and easy and fun. Until it wasn’t. You recognize immediately that sickly warmth spreading down your spine. The way your heart rate picks up, the way your eyes start to feel watery but dry at the same time.
But you push it off, laughing at the story she is telling you. You reach out for your water glass, leaving the large glass of red wine untouched.
It’s then that Connor’s hand ghosts across your back again. It grounds you, which at the beginning of your relationship you hated. At the beginning of your relationship, telling Connor about your condition had felt impossible.
You had sat on the edge of his couch, twisting your fingers together, cheeks hot with embarrassment as you explained that you fainted easily. Sometimes too easily. Sometimes from heat, from standing too long, from stress, low blood sugar, dehydration, pain, or no obvious reason at all. And while telling him you had braced yourself for awkwardness, or concern, maybe for him to treat you like glass afterward.
But instead, Connor had listened carefully, brows drawn together as he asked, “What do you need me to do when it happens?”
It’s that reaction that made you aware that this was it for you. That Connor was your entire world and your entire future. That’s also why it’s not surprise that he turns to you when your shaking hand reaches again for the water glass.
“You okay?” Frank’s girlfriend asks quietly.
“Yeah,” you say, because the lie is automatic. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” You smile as you stand up, your feet feeling like cement as you make your way to the bathroom. Connor’s hand slips from the back of your chair as soon as you move, and you feel his eyes on you. You don’t spare a glance, because if you do, he will know. But it’s Connor after all, he already knows.
You walk carefully away from the table, heels clicking against the floor. Every sound feels too sharp and too muffled at the same time. But you make it to the bathroom, barely. It’s a single person one, thank god. Dark walls, black marble counter, and warm light. The second the door shuts behind you, you grip the edge of the sink and lower your head.
“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “Okay, you’re okay.” But your reflection does not look convinced. You are pale, eyes too wide as your lips part as you try to breathe slowly, the way you have practiced.
In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Then again.
A knock sounds at the door, and he doesn’t even have to announce himself, you already know.
“Baby?” Connor’s voice comes through, low enough that no one outside the little hallway would hear. “It’s me.”
Your throat tightens as you go to unlock the door. Connor steps inside immediately, broad shoulders filling the small space in his dark suit. His hair is slightly messy from where he has probably run a hand through it, and his eyes sweep over you in one quick, practiced check before he closes the door behind him and locks it.
“Hey,” he says, voice gentle. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” you say, and even you can hear how weak it sounds. “I just got hot all of a sudden, and-“ you try to keep talking. But all of a sudden it is like someone has sucked all the air out of your body. “And-“ you try to say again. But Connor is already moving.
The floor dips, and all of your words vanish. For one second, it feels like you are underwater. Connor’s face moves farther away and closer at the same time, and your ears fill with a low roaring sound.
“Con-“ you wheeze out, and then your knees go. Connor catches you before you can hit the floor. He lowers with you, controlled and fast, one arm locked around your waist, the other reaching for your head. Your body goes limp against him, and the last thing you remember is the smell of his cologne. Then everything turns dark.
Connor does not panic, at least not visibly. His heart however, is a completely different story. It slams so hard against his chest that it hurts, but his body moves on memory. He knows how to work through fainting episodes.
He gets his back against the bathroom wall and carefully pulls you between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. The skirt of your dress pools over his thighs and across the tile.
“I’ve got you,” he says, even though you cannot hear him. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He supports your head against him and reaches for your wrist. His fingers hover over your pulse, it’s there but faint. He checks the time on his watch immediately. Feeling how slow your breathing is. Slow, slow and shallow.
“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice strained for the first time. “Come on.” He says as he glances down, taking in your dress that is tight across your chest and ribs, the bodice unforgiving. He knows the dress did not cause this, but he also knows anything restricting your breathing is not helping.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’m just gonna help you breathe.” He leans you forward carefully, keeping one arm across your front so you do not tip too far. His fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and of course, it catches.
“Come on,” he mutters, pulling again before it gives. He eases it down your back a few inches. And almost immediately he sees your chest expands more fully. He closes his eyes for half a second in relief. “There you go,” he whispers, pulling you back gently against him. “That’s it. Good girl, just breathe.”
He keeps two fingers against your pulse, which is still weak, but stronger the before. He watches the minutes pass on his watch. Every moment passing where you’re frozen still against, is a moment his heart beats faster.
“Hey,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth near your ear. “Hey, baby, I’m right here.” But still you’re unresponsive, and the minutes keep passing. “Gonna be honest with you, sweetheart, this is not my favorite one we’ve done.”
He tries to make his voice light, but it comes out shaking anyway. He looks at his watch again.
“Okay,” he says, a little firmer now. “Okay, it’s time to come back to me now.” His thumb is rubbing circles on the inside of your wrist, but still time ticks by. “Come on,” he whispers. “I know you’re tired, but you gotta wake up for me, baby. Please.” He whispers.
Your eyes still remain closed. And Connor can feel his throat going completely dry. He knows the plan, knows what to do and knows when too long becomes… too long. And right now, Connor is starting to fucking panic. He’s not the stoic hockey player, he is just your boyfriend, on a bathroom floor, holding the girl he loves while she is frozen in his arms.
“Baby,” he whispers, and this time the fear slips through. “This one too long, okay? You’re scaring me.”
And then it happens, your fingers twitch and Connor freezes.
“There,” he says immediately. “There you are.” He chokes out as he cups the side of your face. “That’s it baby, come on. Follow my voice.”
Your eyelids flutter once, brows pinching together as you take your first deep breath in minutes.
Connor bends his head closer.
“Careful. Careful.” He says, trying to ground you. “Come back slow, no rush baby. It’s just you and me.”
As your eyes finally open, watery and squinting from the bathroom sconces, Connor nearly crumbles in relief.
“Hi,” he says softly. “Hi, baby. There you go.” He comforts as your head shifts against his shoulder. “Don’t move yet,” he tells you immediately. “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”
“Connor?” Your voice is tiny when it comes out, but Connor swears he’s never heard anything more perfect. “Oh my god.” You state, like you’re realizing the reality of the situation. “I’m so sorry-“ you start, but he cuts you off.
“No.” He says firmly, planting a kiss on your temple. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong, okay?”
“I hate this.” You whisper, your hand finding his thigh and squeezing with as much force as you could muster. “I hate that you have to do this.”
“I’m so sorry you have to go through it. But taking care of you? That is not something I hate.” He confesses, and for a while you both just sit there. Finally, when your breathing is steadier and the roaring in your ears has gone, Connor shifts carefully.
“I’m gonna put you on the counter, okay?”
You nod, and you feel weightless as he gathers you up and slowly sets you down on the marble. You blink slowly at him, and he grabs a small towel and wets it, setting it on the back of your neck. You close your eyes, sighing at the coolness.
“That feels good.” You whisper, letting your eyes fall shut.
“I know.”
“You’re cocky.”
“I’m experienced.” He corrects, causing your eyes open. Because he is experienced, experienced at loving you through something you once thought would make you unlovable.
But here he is, standing between your knees, close enough that your dress brushes his suit pants. Loving you just as much as he did the day before.
“What do you say we get out of here, yeah?” He asks, and your eyes shift to his. You nod as you lean forward, resting your forehead against his chest.
His arms go around you immediately. And for a while, neither of you say anything.
Outside the bathroom, the restaurant and the team continue on without you, you’re sure they are all wrapping up by now, you’re feeling a bit lucky to have had this happen near the end of the evening versus the beginning. But inside the bathroom, Connor holds you like there is nowhere else he needs to be.
“Take me home, Con.” You whisper, pulling your head away from his chest. Away from the smell of his cologne. Away from his warmth and comfort.
“Can you stand?” He asks, and you just nod. Too drained to respond. Connor lifts you off of the counter, slowly placing you down so you’re facing the mirror, your back to his chest. He watches you in the mirror, and he smiles softly at what he sees. “I just have to zip you back up, okay?”
You place your palms on the counter, and take a breath as he zips the dress back up your back, taking the towel and resting it near the sink.
You watch him as he does it, and if you weren’t already in love with him, you would have been falling head over foot right now. You close your eyes, leaning back into his solid chest.
“Take all the time you need.” He whispers in your ear, holding you up. “It’s only me and you.”
Hii! I don’t think I’ve ever requested you before but I love your work and I’ve been reading it so much these past few days and I was wondering if I could request a Conner Bedard x reader wisdom tooth removal fic im thinking fluff and they’re already in an established relationship and just him taking care or her comforting her before and during her getting them removed (you obviously don’t have to write about the procedure maybe just reader getting the anesthesia lol), once she’s on anesthesia she’s just saying random things like he’s really pretty multiple times or something cute like that and maybe him taking care of her when they get home. Thank you so much and again really love your work!🫶🏻
Thank you for saying that 🥹 Also this idea has been in my head for a bit and when I saw you wanted this I JUMPED on this opportunity.
Prompt: wisdom teeth removal isn’t so bad, not when you’ve got your boyfriend by your side… even when you don’t fully know what you’re saying to him
Warnings: wisdom teeth removal (no in depth medical descriptions)!
requested!
“Can we just go get ice cream instead?” You beg, not looking at your boyfriend as you ask. Your eyes stay glued to the entrance of the building. Connor chuckles softly next to you as he takes your shaking hand into his steady one.
“I promise we can get ice cream when you’re feeling better.” He says, his eyes trained on your face.
“I don’t want to go in.” You whisper, and the nervousness in your voice makes Connor’s heart crack a bit.
“Then we sit here for a few more minutes, but I promise I’ll be there for you the entire time.”
That’s the thing about Connor, he never pushes too hard. He lets you express how terrified you are about a medical procedure, but stands strong enough to know how you pull you out of it.
The waiting room is blue, very blue. Blue walls, blue carpeting, blue cushions on the chairs, ocean paintings and one of a sailboat with…. surprise… a blue sail. You clutch the blue pen in your hand, your writing shaky as you fill out forms.
“Let me, baby.” Connor says lightly, noting how jagged your writing has become.
“Everything is blue.” You whisper, not even noticing as Connor fills out your information because he knows all of it without having to ask.
“Blue is calming.” Connor tries to reason.
“It’s making me want to puke.” You say, and his hand stops writing as his gaze snaps to you. Before he can say anything your name rings out in the waiting room.
“Con.” You say, as you take in the smiling nurse at the door.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m with you, and everything is going to go great. You’re safe.” He says as he stands with you, but the comfort leaves as the nurse says the thing you’ve been dreading.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, you can wait here for now. We’ll bring you back once she’s all done.”
Connor only nods, no panic, no tension. The cool confidence he gets on the ice settling over his features. And it calms you only a bit to see that he’s not worried.
“You’ll be okay.” He says finally.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
—
The time drags as Connor sits in the insanely blue waiting room. He lets his eyes close as he remembers how you looked as you walked through the doors with the nurse. He knows how much you hate medical stuff, knows how bad you’ve been worrying about this.
His phone buzzing breaks him out of his thoughts, and he reads the texts from Frank Nazar.
Frank: Chicken noodle or tomato?
Connor: Chicken noodle, but the low sodium one. She’ll complain if it’s too salty
Frank: Aye aye cap. What else?
Connor: yogurt, but only peach flavored. Pudding, applesauce, maybe bananas?
Frank: Sounds good….
Frank: Dad
Connor: Shut up
Connor shakes his head, grinning down at his phone until now it was his name being said in the waiting room. His head snaps up as the same nurse stands in front of the open door. He sits up quickly, his phone and conversation with Frank long forgotten.
“That’s me.” He says, walking towards the woman, anxious to get back to you.
“She did great.” She says with a soft smile. “She’s a little tired, but very sweet.”
Connor raises his eyebrows, not that he was questioning two things he knows very well about, but he wasn’t exactly expecting that out of the nurse.
“Yeah, that sounds like her.” He says with a smile as he starts to follow the nurse down the long hallway, and he stops in his tracks as he finally sees you.
You’re sitting in the chair, the sleeves of his hoodie you insisted on wearing pulled over your hands, your eyes hooded and groggy. Your face looks a bit puffy, but very tired, and in that moment Connor has never wanted to take care of you more in his life.
Your eyes widen a bit as Connor stands in front of you, hat backwards on his head, a plain navy sweatshirt, black shorts that hug thick thigh muscles.
“Hey baby.” You hear him say, and before you can question him, before you can even process the words, the tone of his voice, the sound of it, you know then that you’re safe. Your heart slows into a steady rhythm, and you feel the need to bask in his gaze. But the daze of the drugs cloud your judgement.
“Don’t call me that.” You mumble as you look at him. Now, somewhere deep inside you, you know this is Connor. This is your boyfriend who bends over backwards for you and says it’s the minimum of what you deserve. And as every second passes it becomes clearer to you that it’s him, but there’s something about the fog that’s gripping your mind. Something about it that’s not letting you fully believe he’s here.
“No?” Connor asks, coming to stand next to you. “How come?”
“No. I have a boyfriend.”
The nurse turns her back, and you miss it, but Connor doesn’t miss how her shoulders shake ever so slightly. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at you as he answers back.
“You do?”
“Mhm.” You nod very seriously, almost offended that he wouldn’t know that.
“What’s his name?” Connor asks, sitting down in the chair the nurse nodded her head towards.
“Connor.” You say, like the question is the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. “He’s perfect. He buys me flowers every Sunday, and he knows that I like M&M’s in my popcorn. He says he doesn’t put extra in but I know he does. Plus he’s very pretty. I don’t think he realizes it, but I think my heart stops whenever he looks at me like-“ you stop talking, your eyes widening a bit.
“Looks at you like what?”
“Like that.” You say, pointing directly at Connor’s face, like the man next to you isn’t your boyfriend. “He looks at me like that, how did you do that?” You ask him.
“I happen to know him pretty well.” The Connor look a like says to you.
“You can’t tell him I said that.” You say, reaching out for his hand. “It’s a secret.”
“What is?” He asks, and you roll your eyes at how this Connor look a like isn’t seeing the bigger picture.
“You can’t tell him how much I love him.” You whisper, reaching with your other hand to press a finger to your lips.
“Okay.” He whispers, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I won’t tell Connor.”
You hum and nod, like that is the best news you’ve heard all day, but you watch him as the nurse starts going over post surgery procedures. He nods, asking questions and flipping through a packet. The Connor look a like is starting to become less suspicious to you.
When it’s time to leave Connor helps you stand, letting you lean fully into him as you both slowly make your way to the car. You giggle as you sway, and his arm is firm on your side so you don’t go tumbling down.
“Connor?” You ask finally as you’re in the car, Connor reaching over to buckle you into the front seat, and in all honesty you don’t remember ever getting to the car.
“Yeah baby?” He asks, stopping and waiting for you to say whatever it is.
“You’re my Connor?” You ask, your fingers going up to brush at his face. You feel his slightly warm skin, then they trace a scar.
“I’m your Connor.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Good. I hope he knows I love him.”
“He knows.”
“I wanna marry him.” You admit, and Connor has to pretend like the admission doesn’t knock the air out of his lungs. “I want to wear a white dress, and I want to tell everyone about him. I want to have kids someday too. I think he’d be the best dad.” Your words are spewing out at his point, and as Connor gets settled into the drivers seat he has to act, once again, like you haven’t completely destroyed him in the best possible way. “But you can’t tell him.” You say again, your droopy eyes meeting his.
Connor wants to play along, knows he probably should because you’re in no state of mind for anything serious. But he can’t, not after that. “It might be a little hard not telling him.” He starts to say as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Considering I am Connor.”
You freeze then, eyes going wide as you watch him. But they take in everything familiar, everything around you that confirms that statement.
“Well,” you say giggling slightly. “I guess the cats out of the bag.” Connor laughs so hard he has to tighten both hands on the wheel, and you look very proud for someone who has gauze in her mouth and no idea what day it is.
“Yeah,” he says, still laughing softly. “I guess it is.”
—
By the time he pulls into the apartment parking garage, you’re half asleep. Connor comes around to your side, opens the door, and crouches a bit in front of you.
“Hey, baby. We’re home.” He whispers, trying to be as soft as he can to wake you. Your eyes open halfway.
“Home?”
“Yeah. Come on.” He says, reaching over you to unbuckle your seatbelt.
Getting you upstairs is a careful operation. You insist on walking because you refuse to let the fake Connor carry you. So, Connor keeps one arm around your waist and one hand holding yours, guiding you slowly. You lean into him heavily, occasionally stopping for no reason, and occasionally to ask a question.
Like when you had to pause in the hallway and whisper, “Are my teeth gone?”
Connor nods with pure honesty. “Some.”
“All of them?” You question, looking horrified.
“Just the ones with wisdom.” Connor says, biting his lip to keep from laughing at his own joke, and that seems to be enough that you calm down again. When you finally make it to your door Connor opens it, letting you in first as he steps in directly behind you. The place smells warm, it smells like your home.
“There she is.” A familiar voice says as you turn your head that direction. You see a man you swear you know, the dark hair and cheesy smile so familiar to you. And Connor barely has time to adjust before you’re moving towards the man standing in your kitchen. “How are you feeling?” He asks as you stand in front of him.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You say, stumbling a bit but both Connor and Frank catch you before you could go anywhere. Connor lets go, knowing his best friend has you. He smirks a bit as Frank’s eyes flick to his from over your shoulder.
“A secret?” Frank asks you, like he’s absolutely appalled.
You nod, and before anyone can question you it comes out yet again. “I want to marry Connor.”
You think you’re whispering, you truly do. Frank’s mouth twitches at your confession. His eyes continually moving between yours and Connor’s.
“Oh yeah?” Frank questions you, and you stick your fingers over your lips as if to say shh. Frank brings his fingers to his own lips, and acts like he’s zipping them shut.
“He’s so pretty.” You say again, and from behind you Connor clears his throat, which is a sad attempt of trying to mask the laugh that was bubbling up. The sound catches your attention, and you look shocked as you take in Connor.
“How long have you been standing there?” You ask him, your body moving to try to get to him. Frank steadies you as Connor gets to you and secures you into him.
“I’ve been here the whole time baby.” He says, and you blink, slowly turning your gaze backwards to Frank’s.
“Betrayal.” You whisper to him, and Connor leads you over to the couch so you do not see how tight Frank is pressing his lips together.
The living room has been completely transformed. Your favorite blanket is on the couch. Your pillow is propped up exactly the way you like it. There’s a water bottle on the side table, tissues, medication instructions, but it’s the familiar Blackhawks sweatshirt in the corner that gets you the most. Your favorite sweatshirt. You stare at all of it as you sink into the couch, emotional and sleepy and trying very hard to stay upright.
“Thank you, Frank.” You whisper.
Frank’s face softens.
“Anytime.” He says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m gonna head out. Call me if you need anything.”
And before anyone could respond a sound comes from you, you who’s half lying on the couch, cheeks puffy, eyes barely open, one hand patting around the cushion like you’re searching for him even though he’s only a few feet away. Frank looks at Connor for a second longer, then smiles knowingly. Connor shoves him lightly toward the door.
“Get out.” Connor says, and Frank laughs as he waves and leaves the apartment. Connor locks up, then comes back into the living room and grabs the remote.
“Movie?” He asks and you nod immediately. He doesn’t ask which one, he doesn’t need to. The second the movie starts playing, you make a pleased little sound and pat the couch beside you harder this time.
“You want me there?” Connor asks with a smile, and you answer with another pat, this one even more insistently. “Okay, okay.” He chuckles as he sits beside you carefully, not too fast, not jostling you. You immediately shift toward him, and Connor adjusts, lifting his arm so you can tuck yourself against his side.
The hoodie you stole from him this morning has gotten bunched around your neck, trapping some of your hair awkwardly underneath the fabric. Connor notices before you can even reach for it.
“Hold on baby,” he murmurs. His fingers are gentle as he pulls your hair free from the hoodie neckline. Then he combs his hand through it slowly, smoothing it down over your shoulder.
“That feels nice.” You murmur, your speech still slightly slurred as your eyes close.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You answer, and Connor keeps doing it. Soft passes of his fingers through your hair, careful and steady. The movie plays quietly in front of you, but he isn’t really watching it. He’s watching you, the way your face finally relaxes, the way your breathing slows. The way you trust him enough to fall apart and to let him hold you while you’re not fully yourself.
You sigh, sinking deeper against him, and Connor tucks the blanket around your lap. For a few minutes, you’re quiet. Then your hand moves slowly until it finds his sweatshirt. You grip it weakly.
“Connor?” His heart squeezes at the way you say his name.
“Yeah, baby?”
Your eyes stay closed as you say, “I’m so very in love with you.” The words are barely there, coming out sleepy and muffled. But they hit him straight in the chest as Connor leans down and kisses the top of your head.
“I’m so very in love with you too, baby.”
A few seconds later, your body goes limp against his, fully asleep. The movie keeps playing as Connor’s phone buzzes on the arm of the couch. He glances down carefully, trying not to move you.
Frank: Bedsy.
Connor: She was loopy
Frank: She’s in love. It just came out when she was loopy Frank: Also, I know there’s a ring in your apartment
Connor: You aren’t supposed to bring that up
Frank: She literally told me she wants to marry you while you stood ten feet away smirking like a fucking idiot.
Connor looks back down at you. Your face is calm for the first time all day, your hair slightly messy, but he runs his fingers through it gently as he responds.
Connor: While she was loopy
Frank: She just told a man she thought was NOT Connor that she wants to marry Connor
Frank: Then found out he WAS Connor and basically said “oops, secret’s out.” What more do you need man?
Connor hesitates before typing back, a smile large on his face.
Connor: You’re annoying
He lets a second go by until he types a second text.
Your requests have me kicking my feet. They are all so good and thank you a million for continuing to send them in! Also one person said “this might be so delusional of me” and the sent in a request. I want to make it clear I don’t care how “delusional” you think your requests are because I live my life in a delusion lol, and these are just so fun to write about.
As always, I’m continuing to work at getting requests done, thank you everyone for your patience and love ❤️
Prompt: who knew that a coffee spill was the beginning of the rest of your life?
requested!
Surprise surprise, you’re late.
The pick up counter at the coffee shop right around the corner from your job is packed. And not the normal packed, it’s a summer day, type of packed. People are shoulder to shoulder, squeezing through others while the door remains constantly open with the amount of people entering and exiting.
You take a step back, only to be met with someone taking a step forward at the same time. You collide with a tall man, and you collide hard.
“Oh shit!” You exclaim, as you both freeze in place. Your once white shirt is now light brown, sticky drops of your coffee landing on your only clean acceptable pair of work pants. The man in front of you looks horrified, his bright eyes going wide, and a large smile dropping off of his face. He’s tall, so tall that you have to move your head up a bit to see him. He’s wearing a zip up with what looks like a small shark emblem in the corner, his hat is backwards, and his eyes move from your ruined shirt, up to your eyes, and back to your shirt.
“Oh my god.” He says, immediately setting down his very full cup on the counter. “I am so sorry.” He reaches for napkins and starts moving as if he’s about to try to help you clean up, until he realizes he can’t pat dry some random women’s chest in the middle of a coffee shop. “That is, wow. I’m so sorry that was completely my fault.” He says again.
You fight the urge to laugh, not only are you running ten minutes behind, but the presentation you’re supposed to be giving in 30 minutes you’ll now have to give with a brown shirt instead of a white one.
“It’s okay.” You say, moving so you can stand in a not so crowded spot of the shop while you take the napkins in his hand to start dabbing yourself dry.
“I’m Will,” He says quickly, cringing a bit as you clean the spill. “Sorry. That’s probably the least important thing to you right now. I’m such an idiot.” He says.
You fight a smile, because what else can you do? “Nice to meet you, Will the idiot.”
His laugh is consuming, and as soon as he does, your focus snaps to him, to the sparkle in his eyes and the way he looks like pure sunlight.
“Can I please buy you another coffee? Or pay for this to be cleaned? Or literally anything to make this better?” He asks.
“I would normally fully take you up on that, however I have a meeting in…now,” You check your watch. “20 minutes, so I really have to go.” You say with a small smile.
“No.” He says, like that news is the worst possible thing for him to hear.
“Yeah, unfortunately.” You joke, trying to make the mood lighter. But you watch as he unzips his zip up swestshirt from his frame, and he hands it over to you. “What are you doing?” You ask him, staring at the offering in front of you.
“Fixing my crime.” He says sheepishly. “Please, I feel horrible and I can’t let you go into a meeting with that.” He says pointing to his alleged crime.
“It will be fine Will, really.” You say softly, but his hand does not retract. If anything he shoves it out more. So, against your better judgment you take the zip up. The smell hits you instantly as you put it on, clean laundry, and something woodsy and warm hitting your nose.
“It is clean, I just wore it here.” He rambles, and for some reason it makes you smile. He’s nervous, nervous and apologetic. “Plus, it looks better on you anyway.” He says, before freezing like he can’t believe those words just came out of his mouth.
You smile wider now, laughing a bit as you hold out your hand. “Give me your phone, Will.” He pauses, almost like he can’t believe you’re being so nice after this. You notice his eyebrows shoot up so you continue. “So I can text you to give this back to you.” You state, and he snaps out of it to hand you his phone. You put your contact information in, but add under your name, coffee victim. He looks at the contact and laughs as he locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.
“I am so sorry, Y/N.” He says again as you walk towards the doors.
“Have a good day, Will.”
—
Needless to say your coworkers, and managers, had a lot to say about your appearance. They all begged to see the ‘crime’ and as you unzipped the sweatshirt before your presentation everyone thought this was the funniest thing they’ve seen in a while. It wasn’t until someone said, “who’s Smith?” That you actually started to piece together who it was that spilled coffee all over you.
The sharks logo on the sweatshirt, the name on the back. Of course, are you dumb? It’s the hockey team, the San Jose Sharks.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket before you could look him up.
Will: Hi, this is Will, you know the guy who threw coffee at you this morning. Did the zip up do its job?
You smile and let out a small laugh at the question, before quickly replying.
Y/N: Barely, but now I’m getting questions over why I’m wearing an apparently famous hockey players clothing
Will: Sorry about that, I owe you a lot. Especially a new coffee
Y/N: That’s a little dangerous coming from you, don’t you think?
Will: It will go directly from the barista’s hand to yours, I wouldn’t even look at it
You laugh out loud in your office, and type back.
Y/N: Are you normally like this before noon?
Will: Normally I wait until after practice
Y/N: Ah, the San Jose Sharks practice? Are you perhaps famous, Will Smith?
There was silence for a second, and you wonder if your teasing isn’t coming across as teasing. But that thought was snuffed out as soon as the three dots appeared once again.
Will: I am slightly recognizable in specific buildings. But don’t google me, I’d rather you know me as the panicked coffee guy instead
—
For the next week, you’re glued to your phone. You and Will text non stop, and at some insane hours of the day. You chalk it up to him being awake because of hockey or traveling.
Y/N: How can I return the zip up you sacrificed for me?
Will: How about dinner? Tonight?
You stop, look away, and then look back. He can’t possibly be asking you out, you shake your head and type back.
Y/N: Sure, just let me know where you are and I can meet you in the parking lot or something.
You send it before cringing slightly.
Y/N: That sounded slightly like a drug deal
Will: I wanted to ask you out normally before asking you to come to drug deals, but I guess you beat me to the punch
Y/N: You want to ask me out?
Will: I did ask you out
Will: But yes. Y/N, would you like to go on a date tonight?
You stop in your tracks, your heels stopping against the floor in the break room, and you can’t help the smile that blooms over your entire face. But then it drops, as you remember the girls night you have planned it your best friends.
“Fuck,” you whisper silently to yourself.
Y/N: Tomorrow night? I’m sorry, my best friend just went through this break up and all of us are coming together for a wine night. Plus I’m in charge of the wine which means I have to track down our favorite kind
Y/N: I swear I’m not blowing you off
You stare at the two text messages, embarrassment flooding your body. But his response makes your smile return.
Will: Tomorrow night then. I’ll pick you up. Sorry to hear about your friend, but a wine night sounds dangerous
Y/N: As dangerous as a coffee shop?
Will: No, significantly less
—
Will texts you when he’s on his way, telling you to wear ‘comfortable couch clothes’, and bring a sweatshirt. You respond with a fun and flirty message, just like you guys have been doing this entire time. And it doesn’t take long for a car to pull up outside your small house, and for Will to step out of it. His gaze goes up and down your frame, and for a second you think you’re not dressed correctly.
Your linen pants are blowing lightly in the breeze, and your top is casual enough to be a normal house shirt, but still nice enough to look like you put effort in, which you are trying to hide the fact that you did. Your hair is done in soft waves, your makeup also so light but noticeable if you’re standing close, and your strappy sandals giving you a few extra inches of height. You don’t miss Will noticing every detail about you, and you smile as you take him in as well.
“You look,” He starts as you walk towards him, his sweatshirt clean and thrown over your arm. “Just, wow.”
“Thank you.” You joke, as he opens the passenger door for you.
Once he gets in and starts driving, you both fall into a comfortable conversation, the same teasing words you’ve been giving over text, but this time with the ability to see how bright his eyes get every time he asks you something about yourself. You don’t even realize where you are until he puts the car in park.
“Here’s my plan.” He says, turning towards you. “Pick up pizza, and then a quiet spot, very low key.” He explains almost like he’s nervous you’ll hate it.
“That sounds perfect.” You say with a smile as he takes you into the small pizza joint. You both negotiate a pizza order, which isn’t hard because you find that you like the exact same things.
It wasn’t until youre back in the car, the smell of a pizza filling it and making your stomach rumble that you spot the bottle in the backseat. A bottle that looks suspiciously like the bottle of your best friend and your favorite wine. The same wine that took you hours to track down last night. The same wine you remember complaining to Will that he hasn’t lived until he’s tried it.
“You found it?” You ask him, not believing what you’re seeing.
“You said it was your favorite.” He says with a small shrug, like this wasn’t one of the best things someone has done for you.
“Will that’s expensive, and like impossible to track down.”
“You’re worth it.” He says, a little shy. But your smile blooms again, and you realize you might be in way over your head when it comes to him.
“Thank you.” You whisper, like you couldn’t trust your voice to say it any louder.
—
You didn’t realize how much Will had brought until he was carrying it up a small hill just outside San Jose.
“Let me-“ You start to say, but each time he shoots you down. Once you got to a certain spot half under a tree half under the open sky, Will sets up shop. He throws a blanket big enough for five people down in the grass, and lays out the pizza boxes, the wine, and other drinks and snacks he somehow managed to carry.
You guys talk for hours. The sun keeps slowly slipping down the sky, birds chirp, and it wasn’t until the slight chill swept through the air and the crickets started to sound that you knew you’ve been here for hours. But you had no intention of leaving, and neither does Will.
He asks you about your job, your friends, your family at first. But you can’t help but find yourself going into detail about everything, about where you grew up and how the move to San Jose was terrifying at first. He tells you about growing up with hockey and continuing his life with it. He tells you about college, about getting drafted, about the Sharks and about Macklin.
“He did what!?” You exclaim, leaning over in laughter as Will retells it.
“He did pay for it, but still I drove around with this giant crack in my windshield. And every day when I would go to pick him up he’d smile at it.” Will says with laughter. You guys are closer now, the pizza long since eaten, and the wine bottle half empty. He leans on his elbow, his body angled to face you while the rest of him is laying down on the blanket. You’re the same, only as the hours continue to pass you swear the closer you guys are getting to each other.
“He sounds fun.” You say, smiling at Will.
“He’s my best friend, I can’t image doing all this without him.” You watch him as he says it, you note the soft smile on his lips, and the way the sun casts everything in a pink orange glow. “He’d really like you, you know.” Will says after a moment of silence.
“Macklin?” You question, but you know that’s who he means.
Will nods, and he looks at you with a warm intensity. “You guys are similar, so for my sake I might keep you hidden for a while.” He jokes, but his eyes are soft, and they glance to your bare arms as a rush of wind causes goosebumps to rise on your arms. “Here.” He says, reaching behind him to give you his sweatshirt.
“I did bring my own, you know.” You state, but you grab for the one outstretched in front of you.
“I know. But I think I like the look of you in mine more.” He states, and as your fingers brush you let them linger. “Plus, this way you’ll have to see me again to return it.”
You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. “That’s your grand plan? Every date to give me something so I’ll see you again?”
Will doesn’t respond as you slide the sweatshirt over your head, he only watches and commits the look of you in his sweatshirt into his memory. This time it isn’t the San Jose Sharks that you are representing. But instead a black sweatshirt with RED BULL printed on the front. You watch him as he takes it in, watch as the blush returns to his cheeks, and as his fingers gently brush a thick strand of your curls out from under the sweatshirt collar. His fingers stay there, planted right under your ear, and you know he can hear the gasp exit your mouth at the movement.
“I’m trying so hard to be respectful.” He whispers, his eyes moving between your eyes and your lips. And in that moment, you have never wanted more than for him to follow through on something.
“What does it look like when you’re not?” You ask him, leaning slightly closer, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he responds.
“Like this.” And he leans in. His hand planting firmly but softly behind your ear as he closes the gap between you two. You on instinct move into his space, your body molding into his as your own hands move to touch him. The kiss starts out gentle, but it deepens as you let out a noise that’s swallowed by his mouth. He pulls away gently, smiling at you, and you know your face is revealing just how much you enjoyed that.
“What?” He asks with a small laugh.
“Nothing.” You nearly whisper, moving your hands up to slowly brush a curl out of his face.
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” He says, moving slightly into your touch as your fingers do not let up.
“It’s just,” You start, watching him watch you. “That was a really good kiss.” You say, and you laugh as his cheeks go pink again.
“Yeah?” He questions, and you nod. “Good, because I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.”
“A while?” You question, and he nods.
“I think since you zipped up my hoodie that had my name on the back.” He admits, and you lean in then to kiss him again. Like the small confession was the nail in the coffin. Will Smith is sweeping you off your feet.
It wasn’t long until he was laying down on his back, pulling you in so your head is resting on his chest as you both stare at the stars. One arm tucked against your waist, holding you steadily into his warmth. The other running softly through your hair as you guys continue to talk.
“There.” He says, pointing to the sky.
“I see the Big Dipper.” You say, your eyes scanning the stars. “But I’m still not seeing the small one.”
He takes your hand gently, moving it so he is using your finger to point to it for you. His warm hand engulfs yours, and you can’t escape the flutter in your stomach at the feeling. He traces your finger in the air, and you finally see it. The Small Dipper.
“I thought you were an athlete, not an astronomer.” You joke, and Will laughs as he lowers both of your hands, bringing your palm over to rest on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, a bit fast, but also strong and steady.
“I think I could stay here for a very long time.” You whisper, your eyes still scanning the stars above.
“Under the stars? Or with me?” He asks softly, and you can tell his gaze has found its way to you.
“Both.” You say with complete honesty.
“Yeah, me too.” He says, planting a kiss into your hair.
Prompt: when your younger brother and his best friend, Mack and Will, decide to surprise you at your Pittsburgh apartment, they get more than they bargained for
requested!
Growing up in the Celebrini household was never a dull moment, especially not as the oldest child. It was rinks, practices, someone yelling about losing their hockey bag, yelling over who took the last piece of dessert. But it was also full of love, that was always a given. And there was no one you loved like your siblings.
That’s part of the reason these last 11 months have been so hard. Not because your family is scattered, not because you live in Pittsburgh, which is approximately 3,000 miles away from your brother, but because you’ve been hiding something from them all.
That something?
Sidney Patrick Crosby.
You roll out of bed, trying to wiggle your way loose from Sid’s grasp. He just groans in response, pulling your body flush against his.
“Sid.” You whisper with a morning voice and a giggle. He groans again, his eyes still closed as his lips find your temple, then your cheek, then your lips. You kiss him back like a woman possessed, it happens every time Sidney kisses you. But you manage to pull back, even though your body is screaming at you to jump his bones right now and worry about coffee, and the headache you’ll get if you don’t have any, later. “I’m going to go start some coffee.” You whisper, your voice sultry in your boyfriend’s ear.
“Looking like that?” Sid questions you, his eyes raking over your bare form. You stand, your back towards him as you turned your gaze over your shoulder, his eyes staring at your ass.
“Come find me after your shower you hound.” You joke, stealing his penguins shirt off the ground, making sure to bend over very very slowly. Sidney groans as you leave the bedroom laughing, the soft glow of the morning casting your apartment in a golden glow.
You love Pittsburgh, at first you wondered what the hell you were doing as you spent your first night alone in the apartment. Your entire family had helped you move in, buying furniture, building the furniture, and listening to Mack and Aiden argue over the furniture. But it’s been two years since then, and almost a year since you and Sid have been attached at the hip. But that also means, it’s been almost a year of lying to everyone you love. Especially Macklin.
Macklin was your rock, your little brother who you looked after your entire life. And now he’s in San Jose, now he’s 19 and playing his heart out with his best friend Will Smith. Will, who you’ve also adopted like a little brother.
You smile thinking about them, about how excited they are to be coming to Pittsburgh in a few weeks. The family dinner was nearly impossible to plan with everyone’s schedules, but they all found a way, and that is the night that you’ll be introducing them to Sid.
It’s not like they don’t know him, or know of him. Macklin knows him in a ‘I’ve played against you and looked up to you my entire life’ kind of way. But you want them to know Sid, not Sidney Crosby the hockey player, Sid the boyfriend who basically lives with you. The boyfriend who refuses to let you drive anywhere, the boyfriend who redid your spare room so you could continue to write your novels from home, the boyfriend who cares more about you being a famous author than he does about being a famous hockey player, the boyfriend who has never once let you feel anything except larger than life.
These thoughts fill you with ideas for your next book, and it’s not like you haven’t based characters off Sidney’s actions before. The ideas fill your head as coffee starts brewing, and as the shower turns on from deeper in your apartment.
A little while later you grab your designated mugs, still deep in thought as you smile. But the peace of the Pittsburgh morning died. It died in the way that at 7:14am, your apartment door unlocks. And Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith enter your apartment with wide smiles.
“Surprise!” Mack yells, his smile fully on display, a drink carrier with three coffees in his hand, as Will smiles behind him, a brown bag clutched in his.
“Mackie.” You state, shock settling deeply around you. Your eyes blow wide as everything clicks.
The pair of shoes by the door which are obviously not yours, the bottle of men’s cologne on your countertop, the Pittsburgh Penguins shirt you’re wearing, which is way too big to be yours and houses CROSBY 87 on the back in big gold letters, and of course, the sound of someone in the shower. Of Sidney. Your boyfriend. Your secret boyfriend. Your very secret and very naked boyfriend.
“What?” Mack asks, his wide grin fading just a bit as he sees your shocked face. But that’s not the only thing he notices. His eyes scan your place, they catch the shoes, the bottle of cologne, the shirt that is way too big and way too worn covering your body. And of course, he clocks the sound of the shower turning off.
Will chokes as he realizes too, but it’s Will who’s eyes go wide when he realizes who’s shirt you’ve got on.
“Is… is someone here?” Mack asks quickly, his eyes going wide as he stares into your still wide eyes.
Your soul leaves your body, and you stay quiet not knowing what to say.
“Mack-“ Will says but you interrupt.
“Mackie, just-“ you start, but it’s too late. Too late because there’s the sound of the door opening, the sound of rustling, and the sound of footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.
And then it happens, Sidney Crosby walks into the kitchen. One of your white fluffy towels hanging dangerously low on his hips, and another towel drying his hair which is dark and dripping down his muscular back and chest.
“You better hope this hickey goes away before practice tomorrow otherwise the guys are going to-“ Sid stops when he realizes, he didn’t just say that to you. In fact, he said that to three people, two of which, are your little brother and honorary brother.
Macklin stares at his idol, Will stares between the two of you. Sidney just stares at Macklin. For a moment, nobody moved, and nobody spoke. Until your brother, to no one’s surprise, loses it.
“WHAT THE HELL!” Macklin exclaims, Will taking the carrying tray out of his best friend’s grasp as Mack starts waving his arms around.
“Oh my god.” You whisper, a hand going to your forehead while Sid’s hand tightens on the towel around his hips, like he remembered how he looks, and who it is standing in front of him.
“Is-“ Mack starts, green eyes so wide as he stares between you and Sid. “Sidney-“ he starts talking again but it’s like he can’t get out a full sentence.
“Morning, Macklin.” Sidney says, you can tell he’s a bit nervous by the way his muscles move. But he’s also still relaxed, like he’s not letting himself freak out.
“MORNING?” Macklin repeats. “Morning? You’re in my sister’s apartment basically wearing a fucking hand towel and you say morning?”
“It’s a regular towel.” You say, a bit offended that he insulted your fluffy white, and insanely expensive, towels. Behind Mack, Will now fully loses it. He sets everything down on the entry table and covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders shaking as he tries to turn away.
“Will!” Macklin exclaims, turning around to watch his best friend try not to double over in laughter. “Stop laughing!” Macklin exclaims, but that only seems to make him laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” Will says, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m sorry this is just the funniest thing that’s happened to me all year.” He says, wiping under his eyes as he continues to giggle.
“Sid.” You whisper, and your boyfriend’s gaze shoots over to you immediately. “Maybe go put some clothes on?” You say, and Will busts out with a new fit of giggles.
“Isn’t that a little hard when you’re wearing his shirt?” Will asks, and Macklin makes a pained noise as he really takes that fact in. You stare at Will as threatening as you could as Sidney awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he tries to contain a laugh from Will’s comment.
“I’ll be right back.” Sid says, his smile unable to be contained as he turns down in the direction of your bedroom.
—
It didn’t take long for Sidney to come back in a pair of sweats and a black t-shirt. The shirt hugs his arms perfectly, and you have to drag your gaze away before your little brother notices. But Sidney does, he always notices. And he gives you a wicked little smirk before turning his attention back to your little brother.
“Macklin-“ Sidney starts as he sits down next to you on the couch, the younger players standing in front of the tv, facing the both of you like they are parents who caught you guys doing something bad.
“How long?” Mack asks, and for the first time since entering your apartment and finding out your secret, he sounds hurt instead of angry.
“A while.” You say with a slight wince.
“A while?” Mack echos. “How long is a while?”
“Just under a year.” Sid finishes, and his hand takes yours. His fingers interlinking with your shaking ones. “We were going to tell you.”
“When?” Mack asks.
“Dinner.” You say immediately, and you want to crawl into a hole as you see your brother’s face.
“Like the family dinner?” Will asks from beside Mack as you nod.
“Why didn’t you-“ Mack starts but stops himself as he really takes you in. Takes in the way you and Sidney are, the way he knows that if he were to raise his voice again Sidney would step in front of you, the way his hand is wrapping around your slightly shaking one. The way Mack knows that keeping this from him all this time must have been killing you. “I’m not mad, Y/N.” He finally says, the tension dropping slightly from his shoulders. “I just-“ he pauses, his fingers running through your hair. “Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?”
That carved a part of you open. Not, why didn’t you tell me? But, why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?
You see him clearly for the first time since he walked in, your younger brother. Your younger brother who has done nothing but support you your entire life. Your younger brother who looked at you for years like you hung the stars for him.
“Because it was new at first.” You finally say, staring at Mack, your hands still squeezing Sidney’s. “And I didn’t want the world to know, we didn’t want the world to know. With both of us in one form of the media we just wanted something that was… ours.” You explain. “Plus, he’s Sidney Crosby, and I have the Celebrini name.”
That fact causes your boyfriend to shift you more into his side, and your brother for the first time looks like he might understand why you kept it secret.
“I didn’t want people to assume stuff because of who we are.” You say, motioning towards you and Sid. “And, I didn’t care what they would say about me if they found out, I still don’t. I just care about him.” You say, and everyone stills.
“Y/N.” Sid whispers, his voice so soft.
“So you hid him because you love him?” Will asks, the joking smile replaced with a genuine one.
“Yes.” You say, and you feel the familiar press of a kiss to your head.
“I’m sorry this is how you found out.” Sidney says. “But I’m not sorry that you know. And I’m definitely not sorry for all the time I’ve gotten to have with her.”
“Oh my god.” Mack says, finally sitting down on the couch.
“So you’re like, in love in love.” He says, laughing for the first time today.
“Yeah Mackie.” You say with a laugh. “We’re in love in love.”
“Fuck.” Mack says, laughing loudly now. “Do I have to pretend I don’t know?” He asks suddenly.
“Just until dinner.” You say, hoping he’ll agree. It’s quiet for a second until Mack nods and agrees.
“So!” Will says, clapping and bringing all the attention to him. “I’m exhausted and I cannot keep the comedy up unless I’m fed.”
Sidney lets out a genuine laugh before he agrees.
“I’ll start something up.” He says, letting go of you but not without a soft kiss.
“Oh god. Right in front of me.” Mack complains, but you see his smile before he covers his face.
“I have more questions.” Mack says, as he follows Sid into the kitchen and rapid fire asks everything he can possibly think of.
How did you guys meet? Who made the first move? Do you live here? Do any other hockey players know? Do the Penguins know?
Sid meets them all with honesty and laughter, and his answers make Will fake a groan with how sweet they are.
“I love her, Mack.” He says finally once Macklin seemed to exhausted all his questions. “I have for a long time, even before we started dating. I know that probably sounds like a lot, and maybe it is.” He confesses, but he keeps talking. “I loved her before I had any right to. Before I knew if she’d ever look at me that way, before I knew if this could be anything more than me hoping she’d text me back, or finding reasons to ask about her day, or noticing every time she laughed at something I said and trying not to make it obvious that it melted every wall I’ve ever had.”
Your breath catches as you hear it, and Sid turns his attention to you for only a second before turning back to your brother.
“She loves you very much Macklin. I need you to know that this secret wasn’t because she didn’t trust you, and it wasn’t because she wanted to keep you out. But she wanted to protect it until she knew how to show it to the people she loves most, which is you. Both of you actually.” Sid says, pointing to Mack and then to Will.
Your heart clenches as Will sits down on the couch now too, smiling a bit as he hands you the coffee he and Macklin brought in.
“Can I ask something?” Macklin says to him, and Sid just nods, stirring batter in a bowl. “Are you guys worried about, I mean, I’m not trying to be weird, but are you guys-“
You cut him off before he could finish. “The age difference?” You ask, one eyebrow rising.
Macklin nods, looking a bit sheepish at that question, but you understand.
“No.” Sid says with warmth but also with confidence. “I mean we know people will talk, but people aren’t in this relationship.”
Your heart warms at that. That no matter what, no matter the age or the circumstances that fans can and will put you through, no matter any of it you know Sidney Crosby is yours and yours alone.
It doesn’t take long for the four of you to settle down, to laugh, eat, and the boys to all chirp each other.
You’re standing in the kitchen, watching the three of them talk, and for the first time in a very long time, you let yourself breathe.
Because Macklin Celebrini, your little brother who used to cry at the thought of you growing up and moving out of your parent’s house, is sitting with the man you love more than life itself.
Sidney catches your gaze from across the space, and he gives you a wink before chirping your brother and his best friend back.
Prompt: you accidentally burn yourself while cooking with Connor, and he’s instantly trying to protect you
requested!
You learned quickly in the beginning of your relationship with Connor that cooking wasn’t exactly his strong suit. In fact, he was almost so bad that you continuously had him just sit back and watch. However, he was determined to start learning. He’d text you ideas he saw online, and ask if you guys could cook together for dinner instead of going out that night. You always agreed instantly, not that you don’t like going out with Connor, but you loved a home cooked meal. Especially if it was one he tried to put so much effort into.
Now, a few years into your relationship Connor had improved immensely. Now, it was you that he was telling to sit back while he cooked for you. It had become a love language of his, and you adored it. Not only could the man never keep his hands off you, but now he insisted on cooking for you too?
So, after leaving work that day you were not surprised to see the dinner idea Connor had texted you. You check the time, knowing that he won’t be done with practice for a little while yet. So you reply, saying sounds amazing and you would go to the grocery store now.
Con ❤️:
I would have gone, but thank you. Leaving now, be home soon ❤️
You receive the text as you finished setting everything out for dinner that you’d need. If he insists that you cannot help during the process, you insist on getting everything prepared for him. You love his message, before your phone screen lights up, Madisen Bedard popping up with the picture of you two from last summer. You smile, swiping to pick up the FaceTime call as her face fills your screen.
“First, is my brother home?” She asks, not even saying hello, which means something must be going on.
“On his way, but you’ve got just me for about 15 minutes.”
“Okay, then just wait until I tell you this.” She starts, and you plop down on the kitchen chair and prop her up against something on the island.
“Hit me.” You say, a smile already on your face.
Madi and you got along instantly when you first met. You were nervous to meet Connor’s family, hoping that they liked you and that they accepted you. And when you finally did meet them, you had nothing to worry about. You fit in perfectly, but it was you and Madi who became inseparable every time you saw each other. Connor was overjoyed at that, of course he complains and gives you both shit for how you’re his girlfriend and he barely sees you when Madi is around, but he would leave you two alone all day if that meant you were happy.
With how busy your life is, his life is, and Madi’s life, you guys don’t see much of each other except for summer and the holidays. But even though Connor is far away, his family is close knit, and you usually speak to them a few times each week.
As Madi is telling you her story, you can hear the familiar sound of keys in the door.
“He’s coming in.” You say quickly, cutting her off because you definitely didn’t want her brother to hear what she was talking about.
“Hey baby.” Connor says, coming over to you and leaning in for a kiss.
“Alright, this is kind of up close and personal.” Madi says, and you laugh as Connor flinches, not expecting his sister’s voice, and definitely not expecting to see his sister’s face on your phone.
“Sorry Mads.” You say sheepishly.
“Hey Madi.” Connor says, throwing his bag down on the floor and catching up with his sister for a bit.
You love watching them together, it was a typical older sister younger brother relationship. The teasing, but still the genuine care about each others lives.
“You guys can go back to whatever, I’ll start dinner up.” Connor says, smirking at you while he rounds the kitchen island.
“I’m done with what I was talking about.” She says, and gives you a face as if to say ‘I’m trying not to act like I definitely have more to tell you’. “But you haven’t told me about what you’re working on, you just told me that one snippet and said NOTHING ELSE.” She says.
You loved your job, and you had just told Madi the quick synopsis of the blow out fight this couple had in front of you before storming out of their session.
“Oh my god, it was a nightmare!” You exclaim, and Connor chuckles in the background, laughing at the memory of what happened during this couples photo shoot.
So, you launch into the story, sparing no detail. Madi was out of breath from laughing by the time you were done retelling it.
“She pushed him in the water?” She gasps, wiping at tears that were falling from her eyes.
“Yep. I mean he wouldn’t stop pleading for her to take him back. She just looked at me, and looked back at him, and shoved him in the river. I was so shocked I just froze.”
“That made my whole week.” Madi says, and you two continue on your gossip train. Connor listening every once in a while, but he was just more focused on you in general. The way you and his sister could talk for hours upon hours never having a dull moment. The fact that you laughed at every funny story she told, and genuinely listened to everything she told you. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
“Y/N, do you mind cutting this up real quick?” Connor asks, wincing slightly at the fact he stopped the conversation for a second. You nod you head, taking your phone and propping it up in a new spot as you cut up the onion. Connor managed to get a little behind while cooking, but it totally wasn’t because he was so in awe of you that he got side tracked.
Madi continues talking, now about her classes as you cut the onion up. Connor interrupts a few times to ask a question, but you and his sister invited him into every conversation you were having anyways. You continue to listen as you turn around, noticing Connor going to grab the pan off the stove. What he didn’t notice however, or didn’t think about, was how the handle of the sauce pan was resting over the top of another pan. You flinch as he goes to grab it, knowing the metal is going to be hot enough to burn his skin.
“Connor!” You yell, deciding in that moment that he was not going to be the one to get burns on his palms. At the last second you reach over, grabbing the handle yourself before he could. You shove it away from him, and as soon as your hand touches the metal you let out a string of curses.
“Y/N?” Madi asks from your phone.
But it’s Connor that springs into action.
“Shit baby, that’s my fault, come here, come here.” He says, instantly setting the stuff that was in his hands down as he leads you to the sink.
Your palm was already red hot, and the searing pain made you grit your teeth. Tears springing to your eyes on impact.
“Y/N? Are you okay?” Madi asks again, concern so heavy in her voice.
But you knew if you tried to talk it would just come out in a sob. Connor could tell too, but he wasn’t ready to leave your side.
“I’m so sorry. Keep it under the water, I’m going to grab some ice okay?” Connor tells you, instantly going into protective mode. He knows why you grabbed it, you did it so he wouldn’t. You would rather deal with the burn than have him deal with it. That thought made his heart clench as he put ice in a bag and wrapped it in a cloth.
“Here baby, let me see.” He speaks so softly, and the comfort of his voice makes the tears fall.
The pain was horrible, your skin bubbling in a long line down your palm. You could deal with cuts or bruises, hell, you could even deal with broken and protruding bones. But there was something about burns that terrifies you. You’re not sure if it’s the pain, or the look, but anytime you get burned you instantly panic.
Connor shuts the water off, dabbing your hand quickly with a towel to dry it before setting the ice down on your palm. As your fingers hold the baggie, he pulls you in immediately.
You hiccup just a touch, the sound muffled by his shirt. Your uninjured hand wrapping around his back, and gripping his shirt into a fist.
Connor rocks you slowly, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck. He learned in times like these not to speak, to just let you breathe him in until you were ready. So he stood there, your front pressed into him, and his eyes catching on your phone screen.
Madi was still there, staying silent. Her wide eyes just watching you two, worry evident in her eyes. Connor watches as she takes in the scene in front of her, and when Connor can tell that she is now looking at him, he gives his sister a little frown.
“Y/N, if you want to call me back later that’s totally fine.” Her voice full of sincerity as it makes you jump, and you feel so guilty that you forgot she was there.
“God Madi I’m sorry, I don’t do well with burns. They freak me out so much.”
His sister laughs lightly. “Don’t apologize I get it. Call me back tonight or tomorrow, yeah? And keep me updated, if I don’t hear anything from either of you tonight I’ll call mom.”
“I’ll make sure to text you tonight.” Connor says to his sister, who bids you both farewell and a quick feel better to you.
The sound of the call ending sounds in the kitchen, and you pull away only slightly.
“I saw you were going to grab it.” You start.
“I wasn’t even thinking it was going to be hot. I wasn’t paying enough attention.” Connor voices, his blue eyes piercing into you.
“I didn’t want you to grab it, you would have burned your entire hand.”
“I would have much rather be burned than you, baby.”
“I wouldn’t. You have games coming up, I didn’t want you to be hurt for them. I can’t imagine playing hockey with a trail of fiery blisters on your palm.” You say to him, tears still shining in your eyes from the pain.
Connor tilts his head at your confession, guilt heavy in his features.
“Fuck the games. Thank you for saving me, but please never put yourself in that situation again. Let me get burned next time.” He says, trying not to lecture you, only trying to convey how concerned he is.
“Never.” You whisper, and as you look into his eyes, as he does yours, you both know that you’d each go to whatever length to keep the other safe.
Prompt: Will can take a lot, a shove into the boards, a puck to the body, even the sharks chirping him. But, what he can’t take is someone disrespecting you, especially over things he loves that you have
requested!
Fancy lights, yelling reporters, and cameras flashing isn’t exactly your favorite way to spend an evening. However, how could you complain when you have your boyfriend at your side? Especially when you have him at your side looking like he does. His suit fits him perfectly, his golden hair falling in its normal curls, and the warmth of hockey worn hands on your back, keeping you pulled into him as you enter the ballroom of the charity event.
You smooth your hand over the front of your dress for the fifth time since you arrived.
“Are you okay?” Will asks quietly, ducking his head close enough that his lips almost brush your ear.
“Yeah,” you say, glancing up at him with a smile. “I’m good.”
His gaze drops over your face like he is checking anyway.
“You look beautiful.”
You roll your eyes, mostly because if you do not, you will smile too hard. “You already said that.” You chide, following him to the bar.
“Let me say it a thousand times more.” He says, as you nudge him with your elbow. He grins, then takes your hand as a photographer starts motioning for both of you to smile for the camera.
It doesn’t take long for a reporter to wrap up with Misa and float over to Will. You recognize him from past events, and as he starts asking Will questions you slowly sneak out of your boyfriend’s grasp.
He looks at you, eyes crinkling for a second before you just wink at him. Trying to silently tell him to answer the questions and come find you when he’s done. And even though you can tell he’s a little stiff, he gives a silent quick nod before laughing along with the reporter.
This is how the night starts. Will finding you easily again talking to Misa at the bar, a glass of red wine in your grasp as the younger player talks to you about also hating these events. Will barely has a minute to open his mouth, barely has a minute to ogle you for the millionth time tonight before a reporter wants to hear from him and Macklin.
“Go on, I’ll be okay.” You reassure him, a guilty look falling over his expression.
“I’m sorry baby.” He says, but Misa looks to him with a small head nod towards Macklin and the reporter. A silent, I’ve got her, to Will.
“Go, before poor Mack perishes over there.” You joke, taking a small sip out of your wine glass, your dark lipstick staining the rim. In that moment Will wants that lipstick staining his flushed skin instead, but he snaps out of it, kisses you for a second too long to be casual, and makes his way to Macklin, not really caring at all if the color transferred to his mouth.
—
As you and Misa continue your conversation at the bar, you begin to feel it. The weird warmth when you can tell someone is staring. Not a stare of recognition, but a stare of judgment. You know why immediately. Your tattoos are visible tonight in your black dress, not all of them, but enough. The ones along your legs, the one wrapping softly around your arm and going to your collar bone. You love them, and Will loves them, too. He traces them absentmindedly while you are curled up on the couch, he kisses them all constantly, he makes sure they’re covered in sunscreen when you’re outside. They are a part of you, sometimes you forget they are even there until someone points them out.
So you did not think about them when you had originally walked into the ballroom tonight. But you’re thinking about them now, you’re thinking about them as you watch your boyfriend joke and laugh with his best friend in front of a camera, you’re thinking about them even as Will spares you the tiniest glances and flirtatious smiles, you’re thinking about them as you can tell someone is staring at them.
Then someone steps up beside you, and at first, you think nothing of it. But it’s the way she just stands a little too close, the way Misa can instantly tell you’re distracted.
The woman has a small recorder in one hand, and a press badge hangs from a lanyard.
“You’re Will Smith’s girlfriend, right?” she asks you, not seeming to mind that she’s interrupting a conversation.
“Yes.” You say politely before turning your attention back to Misa.
The woman smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. “I thought so.” She says, her eyes glancing down at your legs. Then your arm, then near your collarbone. “Those are real?”
You blink, the question catching you off guard for a second. “My tattoos?”
“Yes.” She says with a disapproving tilt of her head. “It’s an interesting choice for tonight.”
Your fingers tighten around your glass, Misa stands up straighter, the need to defend you clouding his eyes.
You could ignore it, in fact you should ignore it. You know how this goes. It takes one reaction, one flash of discomfort, and suddenly the story is not about what someone said to you. It is about how you respond.
So you keep your voice even, you hold your hand out secretly to Misa, as if telling him to not say anything.
“They’re part of me,” you joke, motioning to your skin. “So yes, I find it hard not to bring them.”
The reporter gives tiny laugh, but not joyfully, instead in a mocking and condescending way.
“That’s one way to put it.”
Your gaze instantly tracks Will, he is in a conversation, though his body has shifted slightly in your direction. Like some part of him can feel you looking for him.
The reporter follows your gaze, as Misa gives you one look before following your eye sight as well. He knows in that moment what he needs to do, and he excuses himself as he tries not to look in a hurry to reach Will.
“He’s very young,” she says, snapping you out of your trance.
“I don’t think I understand.” You say, trying your hardest not to take a big swig of wine out of anxiety.
“Will.” She says, like you’ve very obviously missed the point. “He’s young, has a clean image, big future. And there are a lot of people who are very invested in what that future looks like.”
Your stomach dips, and you say nothing.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she starts, a snake like smile pulling at her lips like she knows her words will hit a mark.
“Yet I get the sense you will be anyway.” You say, a piece of your control slipping.
“Do you really think you’re what Will needs?” she asks. “I mean, no offense, but with the tattoos and the whole look, don’t you worry you might, taint that?”
The word hits like a slap to the face. Taint. Your lungs constrict, but she keeps going, because people like that always do when they sense they have hit a mark.
“It’s just that he’s got this, wholesome thing going for him. And you must know how people talk, you don’t want to be the reason sponsors start asking questions.”
Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, and suddenly your eyes are darting to Will, who’s listening to what Misa is explaining. Your eyes beg him to see you, beg him to understand, they scream help me.
“Oh, dear. Don’t look like that, I was only-“
“Don’t.”
The voice is low, calm, but carrying a sense of authority.
Will.
“What did you just say to her?” he asks.
“Will, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” The reporter says, lifting her hands slightly even with the recorder still tucked in one palm.
“No.” His voice stays even. “I don’t think there has.”
You stare at him, your heart beating wildly as a few people nearby have started to notice something is going on.
“I was only making a light comment. It wasn’t serious.” She tries to defend herself.
“If it was so light you shouldn’t have a problem saying it again.”
The reporter’s face tightens, and your breath catches. You know Misa must have told him the basics, but here he is, unmoving and unflinching as he uses a tone you’ve only heard from him a few times. You know he must have caught some of it on his way over as well, and he takes a step forward, not aggressively, but protectively. His hand finds its home on your back, his thumb moving against you like he is reminding you he is there.
“Let me be very clear,” he says. “She doesn’t taint anything.” He spits the word out with anger. The reporter opens her mouth, probably to try to defend herself, but Will doesn’t let her speak. “She is not a problem for my image. She is not something I need to hide or be ashamed of. She is the person I love. She is kind, and smart, and stronger than anyone in this room. And those tattoos you decided to insult? They are a part of her, which means I love them too.”
“Will, I think you’re taking this very personally-“ she starts, but Will cuts her off.
“I am,” he says immediately. “You were cruel to my girlfriend, I am taking it personally.” He says as he turns slightly, angling himself so he’s standing just ahead of you. “And for the record,” he continues, “the idea that she is below me because she has tattoos says a lot more about you than it does about her.”
The reporter’s mouth snaps shut as she looks between the two of you, her pride shrinking with the fact that people are definitely watching now.
“I apologize if she felt-“
Will scoffs immediately. “You don’t apologize for how she felt, you apologize for what you said.”
But then someone else steps in, one of the event organizers, you presume.
“Is there an issue here?” She asks, looking between the three of you.
“Yes,” Will says. “She is making inappropriate comments about my girlfriend.”
Your ears start to buzz, you don’t hear the next words, only watch as the reporter is escorted from the event.
“Baby,” he says, his voice softer now as it breaks through the mist around your brain. “Follow me.”
You don’t say anything as you press your lips together and give him a small nod, and Will does not ask twice. He keeps your hand in his and guides you through the ballroom. He does not rush you, but his eyes appear to say, not now, to anyone who looks at him.
The second you are alone, you sigh and Will’s arms are around you immediately. You step into him without a second thought, burying your face into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Do not apologize.” He says sternly but not angrily. His fingers circling comfortably on your hot skin.
“I froze.”
“So?”
“I just stood there.” You say, embarrassed you didn’t have the fight in you to standup for yourself.
“You were shocked because someone was being cruel.” His hand moves over your back slowly. “That’s not something you have to apologize for.”
Your fingers curl into his jacket and he pulls back just enough to move his hands. His thumb brushes your wrist, right over the start of one of your tattoos.
“She doesn’t know you, baby.” he says. “She had no right to make you feel small.”
You look down at your arm, at the ink you loved this morning, at the skin that suddenly feels too visible. Will notices and he shifts, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. Your breath catches as he follows it all the way up your arm with soft kisses, all the way to your collarbone.
“You are not below me,” he says against your skin. “You are not bad for me, honestly you are way out of my league.”
“Will.” You say softly, your slightly watery eyes locking with his.
He cups your face with both hands. “I need you to hear me baby.” he says. “I don’t care about what people think is perfect. You’re perfect, and we’re perfect together. That’s all I want, that’s all I care about. And I swear to God, if anyone ever tries to make you feel like that again, I’m throwing that glass of wine at them.”
You smile through unshed tears, pulling at his suit collar to bring his lips down to yours.
Then the hallway door opens, and you both break away from each other only slightly and turn.
Macklin steps out, scanning the hallway with concern written all over his face. Behind him is Misa, who looks equally as concerned.
“Hey,” Macklin says carefully to you. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.” You say to him, before turning your gaze to Misa. “Thank you.”
“I should have said something sooner-“
“You did the right thing man.” Will says, cutting off his self doubt.
Macklin shifts awkwardly, then gestures back towards the ballroom. “Also, not to make this weird, but half the guys are pretending not to hover by the doors.”
Will sighs, before his eyes turn back to you. A silent question in them.
“Let’s go.” You say, motioning back towards the ballroom as you pull your hair forward, the waves covering your collar bone.
“Don’t cover them,” he says softly, almost pleading. And you watch the emotion floods eyes. He brings his hands up, pulling your hair behind your shoulders as his eyes light up with joy at the art of black ink that is fully on display once again. “I love you. I love you so much.” He says, not caring about his best friend or his teammate still behind him, even as they start to make a silent exit back into the ballroom.
“Kiss me, Smith.” You say, a smirk on your face. You know your lips taste of the red wine you were drinking earlier, and Will groans into them as his lips find yours.
“I love you.” He whispers, taking his lips off yours and kissing under your ear. Then he repeats it, kissing your cheek, your temple, your nose, your forehead, then back to your lips. “And for the record,” he murmurs, “I love your tattoos.”
“Someone is going to catch us.” You joke trying to ignore the feeling of melting under his touch and words, and squirming slightly at how ticklish his lips feel against your flushed skin.
“Let them.” Will says, clearly not bothered by anything. And as his lips continue to move around your skin, everything around you melts away. You’re not just the girlfriend of a famous hockey player, you’re you. And not only is that your favorite version of yourself, but it’s Will’s as well.
Will defends the reader after someone tries to make a bad joke making her feel uncomfortable and uneasy.
I’m working on this now, and my plan is for it to be done by tomorrow!
I just want to thank everyone for sending things in, I’ve been insanely busy with a new job I started, but I promise I’m making my way through my inbox ❤️ I appreciate all your support for my writing, being on here is a break away from my real life and I feel like a different person when I’m able to write❤️
