there’s been a lot of asks in my inbox about quinn hughes and whether i’ll ever be writing for him and i wanted to say this clearly so there’s no confusion. i won’t be writing for quinn hughes anymore. i guess everything did really change with how i see him now ever since the olympics and once someone shows you who they are it’s hard to unsee it. i did say before that ill come back to writing for him and i hold myself accountable for that and to anyone who has sent in requests im so sorry. i genuinely tried so hard to follow through on that but when i sat down to actually do it, i just couldn’t.
it didn’t feel right, and i don’t want to force something that no longer inspires me or sits well with me. that being said, just because i no longer write for him doesn’t mean i’ll sit here and drag anyone down who does. i’m not here to spread hate on anyone just because they choose to write for quinn. i’ll always support my angels on here because i know damn fucking well that they put some real hard work and effort into their writing. i’ve written and still have my work up for him prior to the olympics and i’m not sure what i’ll be doing with those writing pieces due to the fact that people are still reblogging and liking them. guess we will find out.
because of that, i won’t be accepting any more requests for quinn or any of the hughes brothers going forward. i’m so sorry to anyone who’s requested and to anyone i’ve let down due to all of this. i appreciate everyone who enjoyed my work before and i hope you understand where i’m coming from. 🫶🏼
As I make my return to writing, I want to clear up my stance, as well. I think @smithusiast sums this up perfectly. I am disappointed with the Hughes brothers’ actions, and don’t want to idolize them anymore. I respect each individual’s decision with how they handle this situation, as I hope my decision to no longer write for them is respected. I am rebranding soon to better reflect this new era of my blog. <3
Imagine telling Will how you feel but he rejects you
Together?
Summary: A night out of reuniting with your longtime friend and secret crush, Will, leads to a vulnerable confession.
A/n: YAY FIRST REQUEST IN THE NEW ERA OF THIS ACCOUNT!!! Thank you @septembervirgorose for the req! Keep ‘em coming, everyone! Scroll to the end for more notes :)
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Your ears were starting to feel numb as the vibrations around you overstimulated your senses. Your leather boots stuck to the beer-soaked ground as you walked toward the back of the bar, following your childhood friend to the bathroom. The buzz of the night was taking over, helping you relax more than you anticipated.
Waiting in line for the ladies’ room, your friend catches you staring at Will again.
“Just tell him,” she says with a small smile.
You groan.
“No, that’s weird,” you lean your head back onto the wall and shut your eyes. “I haven’t seen him in like 6 months and the first night I do I make things awkward? I can’t.”
You squint your eyes open to see your friend giving you a knowing look that means she will eventually convince you to tell him. You look back at Will to avoid her convincing gaze.
You decided to finally visit your close friend in Vancouver where she recently starting working on your long weekend. Coincidentally, the Sharks were on a Canadian road trip, ending in Vancouver. When you realized you’d be in town at the same time as Will, you tried to keep your nonchalant act up and subtly mention it during your last texting catch-up. He excitedly accepted the offer to hangout.
The two of you went to BC together, where you grew close, but had been in each other’s lives for the majority of your prepubescent years due to your mothers being good friends. You always had a silly crush on Will in those days. Doing your hair and nails with Grace was fun, but you often found yourself watching Will play hockey with your brothers through the window of her room. After half an hour of staring, you’d try to subtly suggest showing off your makeovers to the boys, to which Grace would lead you outside.
You remember one time your brothers teased you for the frilly dress and tiara Grace put you in — an outfit you had been twirling in the mirror minutes prior with a teethy smile —, but when your eyes became glassy and your confidence dropped, Will beckoned you over to him.
“Here,” he handed you his hockey stick with a shy smile. “Princesses can play, too.”
You looked up at him with a grin even bigger than the one in the mirror and chased your brothers around using his stick as a sword until the game shifted from street hockey to jousting.
The memory causes you to smile in the dimly bar. You glance back to Will, surrounded by his teammates. The Sharks had won their game. Will gave your and your friend tickets to the game, and the plan was to meet the next morning for coffee. But after the blow out win, 5-0, the team decided to celebrate.
Will texted you 40 minutes after the game ended, asking your friend for bar recommendations and if the two of you would like to join. Your friend had planned to host a chill night in with wine, cucumber masks, and your favorite rom-com, but she couldn’t resist your pleading and reminders of all the times you drove her to her crush’s house before she could drive. She caved, so now you were four drinks in at the bar with the man who you spent too many years trying to avoid crushing too hard on.
When you had arrived at the bar, Will greeted you with a sincere smile and a tight hug, enveloping your body in his. You felt your heart flutter at his warmth and familiar smell. He immediately went to introduce you and your friend to the team while talking too fast to understand everything he was saying. He clearly was starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with the adrenaline of the win. You ended up talking to him and his friend Macklin for about 30 minutes, going through the three drinks he insisted on buying you, before taking your energy to the dance floor. You felt yourself get lost in the music, dancing closely with your friend, feeling flirty and free in your movements. She caught you glancing over at Will throughout the songs, to which he was often looking back. She chose to spin you around or caress your body in a way to catch his attention, which would make you shy and blushing if you were sober, but your drunk self felt no shame in being extra on the dance floor.
When a pair of attractive men your age came up to talk to you and her, you noticed Will wasn’t looking anymore. You entertained their attempts at flirting by dancing with them for a song, but quickly grew tired of receiving attention from everyone but the one person you truly wanted.
You went back to the bar where Will and his teammates were camped, reaching over to grab the bartender’s attention.
“Can we get two more vodka crans please?” You ask with a polite smile and the smallest slur of your words. The bartender hands you the drinks, to which Will subtly tells him to add it to his tab.
You thanked him and plopped down in the seat next to him. You watched him as he interacts with his friends, noticing the way his nose scrunches when he disagrees with a chirp from Mack or how his curls bounce when he giggles with whole body. You can’t control your goofy smile, even if you wanted to. The alcohol made you feel vibrant enough to catch anyone’s attention you want, yet sentient enough to forget your reactions can be seen by other people.
Will caught you staring at him and responded with a smile, “What?” He laughed. “Do I have something on my face?”
Only the most kissable lips, you thought.
You shook your head and let your eyelids droop into a slow blink.
“I’m gonna go take a lap,” you slurred as you grabbed your friend’s hand. He nodded in response.
Instead, you found yourself being pulled to the bathroom line by your friend.
Now, you stood against the sticky wall, working up the courage to say what’s been on your mind for far too long of your friendship with Will.
“I just don’t know what he’d say, y’know?” You ranted loudly as you fumbled to unzip your pants. Your friend was in the stall next to you, much less drunk than you. “Like I don’t even know what I’d be asking him to say.”
“I don’t think he needs to say anything in particular. I think you just need to rid yourself of this crush, babe. He’s taking over your night,” your best friend responds from the sink.
You frown and flush the toilet.
You wash your hands more poorly than you would sober and stare at your reflection intently. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is more voluminous than usual, but it makes you look sun-kissed and free, despite the cold weather.
“I hate liking men.” You pout.
“Amen, girl.” A woman your age comes up to the sink next to you. “If he doesn’t like you, his loss. You’re hot as hell.”
She points at you up and down with an approval of your appearance.
“Ugh thank youuuu,” you slur out. “I wish he could see me like you do.”
“If he doesn’t, he sucks. You’re sexy and single, so get out there,” the kind stranger hypes you up. Your friend nods in agreement.
“Exactly. If he doesn’t reciprocate, I have a ton of guy friends I can introduce to you this weekend. You’re a catch,” your friend compliments you as you wave goodbye to your new bathroom friend.
“Okay,” you sigh. “Fine, but only because if this fails I won’t see him until the summer.”
You make your way back to the bar, slower than you consciously mean to, hoping to delay your confession.
When you get back, you accidentally bump into Mack’s back, and hold onto his bicep as he turns around to keep you from falling. You’re more drunk than you realized.
“Where’s Will?” You whine to his best friend.
“Uh, he, uh, went outside, I think,” Mack answers with a look in his eyes that drunk you can’t read. It looks like concern mixed with confusion. You don’t pay attention to it.
“Thanks, Mack,” you say patting his cheek. If sober you knew you just patted Macklin Celebrini’s cheek the same night you met him, you would crumble from embarrassment. Unfortunately, sober you is long gone, which means the next human interaction you had was even more embarrassing.
You weave through the sweaty bodies, not caring about breaking up groups as you focus on making it out the door. The cool air feels like a relief, but isn’t enough to sober you. You spot the back of his head from the blonde locks peaking out of the outdoor crowd. Once again, you move through the crowd like you’re on a mission.
Once you reach Will, you tap his shoulder with two firm taps. He turns around with a startled look.
His face relaxes when he realizes it’s you.
“Hey, y/n. Having fun?”
The next few things you say will haunt you in the morning.
“I’d be having a lot more fun with you,” you put your hands on his chest, leaning your weight onto him.
He gently grabs your hands and chuckles awkwardly.
“I’m, uh, right here, y/n/n. We’ve been together all night.”
“Sure, but we would have much more fun if we were actually together.” You drag out your words, as if they sound sweeter and more enticing that way. Instead, you will later recall the delivery to sound clingy and desperate.
“Uh-,” Will drops one of your hands in front of you two to scratch the back of his neck while his cheeks flush.
“You know, I’ve liked you for so long,” you start to ramble. Will stills. Stiffens, almost. “You used to let me dress you up at my tea parties. Walked me to my dorm after class when it was snowing. I always wondered what this moment would be like. You and me…together…”
You trail off, hoping he will say the rest for you.
He doesn’t. He looks…conflicted? You can’t read his expression, which is rich considering Will has always been easy to read.
“You’re, uh, you’re seriously drunk,” he mumbles hoping to keep this conversation quieter than you had been projecting.
“I’m seriously serious,” you retort back with a poke to his chest. You try to keep it light, but his expression tells you the words are heavy to receive.
He sighs and brings his hand to eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, y/n,” he hesitates. In this moment, you feel the alcohol suddenly leave your body. Of course that doesn’t literally happen, but the slight tone of rejection in his voice makes you realize what you’re doing and how final this decision is. “I’m honored, I really am. You’re great, but I just. I, uh, I don’t know. You’re my friend. You’re y/n/n. I don’t think us being together is a good idea.”
Despite his soft voice, each word feels like he’s screaming for the whole bar to hear his rejection. It feels like there’s a sign above your head reading, “LOOK HERE! STUPID LOSER GIRL JUST GOT REJECTION BY HOT STUD! HOW SILLY SHE THOUGHT SHE HAD A SHOT!”
You feel his words start to affect your body. At first, it’s the small shaking in your now empty hands as he talks. Then, the hot flashes rushing to your face. Your legs struggle to hold up your body and nausea quickly rolls in.
All you can muster in response is a meak, “Oh.” Suddenly, the blanket of untouchable confidence is ripped off of your body, and replaced with physical anguish.
You stumble back, tripping on the curb behind you. Will reaches out a hand to grab you, but your friend, who had been quietly watching from behind, caught you in time. She sat you on the curb to regain some strength as you watched her silently flag down a taxi.
You thought you heard him shoot out a, “Woah, careful!” as you lost your footing, but you are too embarrassed to look up at him and check if he was attending to you.
You hang your head in shame as the tears well in your eyes. You use the smallest amount of reservation you have left to force the tears to stay in, not wanting to embarrass yourself any more tonight.
You feel your friend grab you by the arm, pulling you up into the cab and closing the door before going around to the other side. You work up the courage to look out the window, towards Will for the first time since hearing him deny you a reciprocated feeling. You catch a glimpse of eye contact from him, which oddly gives you hope, but it’s quickly replaced with someone that makes you somehow feel even worse. A tall, blonde woman touches his shoulder in a possessive way you know would work on any man. You just didn’t think it would work on your Will. But as the cab driver puts your friend’s apartment address in the GPS, you see Will lean into the touch and smirk at whatever the beautiful woman is saying too close to his ear.
You feel vulnerable in the car. Like a child shooed off for trying to impress their parents’ friends with a new trick. You left it all out there, and it was dismissed.
Your mind quickly races to your previously scheduled coffee plans with Will. He had mentioned still going tomorrow earlier in the night. But now, that version of the two of you who would’ve likely talked about what your college friends are up to now that he’s gone and how your mothers are doing feel long gone. You’re sure after tonight, there won’t be a version of you and Will anymore. Even as friends.
You watch Will laugh at something she says, and your heart clenches. You feel your friend reach over to squeeze your hand for support.
As the cab rolls away, you finally let the tears roll down your cheeks.
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Ouch. I made this so it can easily be turned into a Part 2 where he redeems himself, but if yall would rather sit in the discomfort of rejection for this storyline rather than resolving it, I understand🙂↕️ Just let me know!
Summary: Will makes his Bronco dreams come true and takes you on a surprise beach date.
A/n: this was inspired by the clip of him saying he wants to drive his Bronco on the beach this summer :)
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“Will, I can’t see,” you giggle through your stumbling steps.
“That’s kinda the point,” he teases while guiding your hips forward.
Ten minutes ago, you were sitting in your shared bed, reading peacefully. You were interrupted by your boyfriend jumping on you excitedly, insisting you wear one of his ties as a blindfold after you change into something “cute, but comfortable”. You were unsure what this meant, but opted into the white sundress hanging in your closet to match his light blue polo and white shorts.
So now, you were being guided outside, only able to see brief flashes of the ground through the bottom of the blindfold. Your senses heighten at the loss of one, and you’re hyper aware of Will’s lingering touch on you as he guides you.
You feel him stop your synched walking, and hear the sound of a car door opening. He shuffles you a few small steps forward, placing your right arm onto the car door for stability.
He pats your left leg, “Step up, hun.” You clumsily feel around with your leg in the air for the door before he reaches over to guide your leg to the floor of the car. By the height of the car, you can tell he’s brought you to his Bronco. Getting the footing right after his adjustment, you hoist yourself into the passenger seat. You feel Will reach over you to buckle your seatbelt, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he pulls back. You feel the car slightly shake at him closing your door, which is quickly settled once he opens the driver side door.
“Comfortable?” He asks before pulling off. And though you can’t see, you can feel him staring at you with the concern he only has for you.
You blindly turn your head to him with a sweet smile, “Yes!”
He hums in content and drives off.
You find yourself trying to guess where you are based on the turns he’s taking and the feel of the roads, but quickly give up once distracted by your favorite song coming through the car speakers.
You hear Will giggle next to you at your musical performance in the passenger seat, pretending to hold a microphone as you sing loudly.
You feel the car turn onto a dirt road, followed by a bumpier texture than before.
“Woah,” you gasp, holding onto the sides of the car. The surface jostles you in your seat.
Will reaches over to your left arm to stabilize you.
“Sorry, babe. Almost there,” he mumbles out. You can picture his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, concentrating on the task at hand.
As promised, you arrive a few moments later. The car stops, and when Will opens his door to help you out, you are hit with the smell of salt and seaweed. Will quickly reaches your side, and helps you out. You feel sand beneath your sandals, and hear the crashing of the waves. The smell of the ocean relaxes the last bit of tension you didn’t know you were holding from the day.
You feel Will reach behind your head, untying the makeshift blindfold. The sudden light makes you hiss as you adjust to the brightness. When your vision clears, you’re met with a cheesy-smiled Will staring at you, four inches from your face.
“Hi.” He grins giddily.
“Hi,” you laugh.
“We’re here!” He gestures to the beach around you.
You look around at the sight with a smile. The Bronco was pulled up about five feet from the shoreline. The sun was starting to set over the water, casting an orange glow in the clouds. A blanket laid out next to the Bronco, with a small woven basket on it.
Your heart fluttered at the sight.
“Aw Will,” you said as he guided you toward the blanket. “You did this?”
He nodded with a shy smile.
“When?” You ask.
“After dinner. When you were reading, I put this out, and then came back for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing what to do with the attention that was meant for you now placed on him.
“You’re so sweet,” you gush, placing a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Willy.”
“Anything for you, y/n/n.”
You feel overwhelmed with love. You sit next to him and notice the bouquet of flowers placed next to the basket. Will hands them to you, to which you smile and immediately sniff the flowers. You hum with delight at the smell, making Will’s smile grow. He opens the woven basket and pulls out its contents.
Two skinny glasses, a bottle of champagne, and chocolate covered strawberries now sit in front of you. You notice “Y/initials + WS” delicately spelled on the strawberries with white chocolate icing. You gasp at the detail.
“Did you do this?”
Will leans into you with admiration.
“Yeah, I thought it added a nice touch.”
“I love it.”
“And I love you,” he says, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss.
You reach next to him and replace your lips with a strawberry on his. He takes a bite and groans at the sweetness taking over his tastebuds.
He replicates the action and brings a strawberry to your lips.
“Wow. This is the best chocolate covered strawberry I’ve ever had.” You delight.
“It’s probably because the best boyfriend you’ve ever had made it,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Garrett didn’t make these,” you fake pout, hinting at your middle school boyfriend being your best boyfriend instead of the obvious choice in front of you.
“Hey!” He pokes you in the side at your joke. You squeal at his action, but instead of pulling away from him, you instinctively lean closer. Will pulls you so close, you’re practically in his lap.
You stare into each other’s eyes as the sound of the empty beach replaces the sound of the two of you laughing. Will studies your face carefully, as if he’s trying to memorize each feature. As if each time he blinks, he risks you disappearing when he opens his eyes again. You focus on the way his eyebrows droop and his smile lines soften. He looks relaxed. Your smile hasn’t left your face since you sat down. His hasn’t either.
You break the eye contact by leaning forward into him, your head resting on his chest. He wraps his arms around you with a tight squeeze.
One of his arms leave your body, and you hear the snap of a camera. You look up to see his Polaroid he insisted on “needing” this summer in the air facing the two of you. Out of it comes a still-developing photo of you cuddled into Will while he wears his bunny-teethed grin on his face. He’s looking into the camera as if to say, “look at how lucky I am. I got the prize in my arms.”
“So cute,” he mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss into it after speaking. You smile up at him.
You sit in this moment, watching the sunset change colors in the sky. Will holds you. You feel as if your bodies morph into one, so relaxed and connected.
Will reaches down to fill the champagne glasses. He hands you the first one poured, and tilts his glass toward yours.
“To another summer of us,” he clinks his glass with yours, focusing only on the way you smile at his words.
“To us,” you confirm with a wink.
This moment under the glow of the fading sun marks the start to a summer filled with Will and his many surprises. You wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.
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First Will fic! It’s short, but I wanted to break the ice (no hockey pun intended) with him, and share the love, since I’ve posted three Mack fics already. I hope you like it :)
thinking of mack, who has always been seen as a hockey player first, boy second, by everyone, even sometimes his own father. and that's fine, actually! he's fine with it, he knows they prefer the hockey player anyway, knows the boy can be a bit awkward, abrasive, not enough chill, too much everything else. but sometimes he just wants to be known. tell me you know my favourite restaurant. tell me i'm your favorite on the team. tell me you like me even after i unlace my skates. tell me you see me, the boy.
thinking too of will, who has always been liked as a boy, charming and polite and so carefully, meticulously likable, but who's had to fight for respect as a hockey player from his earliest days because he was always too soft, too pretty, too slick; because he didn't play the right way. berated by his youth coaches despite being the top scorer, snubbed for the hobey finalists despite centering the most dominant line in college hockey, flogged by fans and scouts alike for a single mistake despite playing the best hockey around.
and then. enter mack, who never passes up an opportunity to announce to all and sundry how much he respects and admires will the hockey player. enter will, who always, always sees and likes mack the boy. who knows mack the boy better than anyone ever has, and loves him for it. god. GOD
Summary: Mack helps you through your fear of flying on a bumpy flight.
A/n: let me know if you think of a good photo for this fic!
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“Flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff.”
You feel your heart beat quicken at the announcement, knowing what’s about to happen. You look out the airplane window, trying to memorize the view of the pink sky, before closing the shade.
You don’t want to see the ground getting further and further away from you as the plane ascends.
Macklin is comfortable next to you, with his left knee spread into your space, and his posture slouched in the first class seat.
He is used to flying nearly every week for the NHL.
You are not.
When Mack surprised you with tickets to Croatia for your anniversary, you felt so loved and excited. But after the bliss of the surprise died down, you quickly remembered your fear of flying.
You’ve spent the last two weeks preparing for the international flight, listening to pilot podcasts, learning breathing exercises, and talking to your flight attendant cousin.
So now, you’re sitting in the too-expensive seat that will turn into a bed once you’re cruising in the air, trying not to let the worries take over your mind.
Suddenly, you feel the speed of the plane push your body back into your seat as it races down the runway.
You squeeze your eyes shut, tensing your body at the departure.
You feel Macklin’s hand take yours as you clutch to the armrest for dear life.
He wiggles your fingers away from the barrier, having you replace your squeezing from the armrest to his hand.
Your palms are sweaty with nerves, and you’re likely squeezing so hard your knuckles are white, but you don’t dare open your eyes.
You know Mack doesn’t mind.
As the plane tilts into the air, you feel it jostle slightly as it adjusts to the air pressure.
This causes your eyes to shoot open in fear and turn to Macklin with pure panic on your face.
He’s already looking at you with a calming gaze, nodding his head in confirmation that you’re okay and everything is normal.
His reassurance and relaxed demeanor helps you loosen your grip on his hand just a fraction, barely enough to be noticeable, but you know he can tell his reassurance is helping. He can always tell when the smallest things change with you.
You continue to stare at him for the remainder of the ascent, widening your eyes at every small bump, which is met with comforting squeezes to your hand, exaggerated deep breaths for demonstration, and a few “we’re okay”s from Macklin.
You feel your body relax once the plane reaches a less dramatic angle of ascent, and especially feel content when the lead flight attendant starts her announcement about the first in-flight meal that will begin shortly. You’re still weary on the flight ahead, but feel safer knowing things are starting to settle.
Macklin feels your changing demeanor and offers a kiss to the side of your head and a “you did so good, baby” to your ear as you let go of his hand to grab your headphones. A soft smile reaches your face at his praise.
You know you certainly didn’t do “so good” in the last 15 minutes of taking off, but you also know he genuinely means it. Macklin always sees the best in you, even when you show him your worst.
After the three course dinner, you feel the fatigue of the travel day taking a toll on you.
Macklin notices your eyelids drooping as you listen to him talk about the plans when you land.
“Here, babe. Let’s go to bed.” He says taking the plastic wrap off of the airplane blanket and pillows.
He reaches over to adjust your seat into the lying position, and does the same to his seat.
Once you’re both lying down, he moves the armrest up, to give you access to him. He wordlessly opens his arms, and you reply by moving into his chest.
You feel his head rest on yours, inhaling your scent, followed by a kiss into your hair.
You settle into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat lull you into sleep.
You wake up to a jolt.
For a split second, you forget where you are and assume it’s Mack moving in his sleep. Reality quickly sets in that it’s not the person moving you, but the environment.
Your head shoots off of Macklin’s chest at a second bump.
At the loss of contact, he opens his eyes to find you.
He meets your scared eyes with a look that quickly turns from sleepy confusion to understanding of what he needs to do.
You don’t realize your body is shaking until Mack sits up slightly to envelope your body in his. He holds your head against the top of his head, while bringing the rest of your weight into his lap. He tilts your head to make sure you can hear him speak softly in your ear.
“Shh, it’s okay y/n/n. We’re okay.” He gently mumbles into your ear.
You clutch onto his shirt as an especially large bump interrupts the smaller ones.
You don’t realize you made a squealing sound until it hits your ear.
Macklin presses your head further into his body, as if he’s hiding you from your fears.
“Sh, sh, sh. We’re safe,” he continues in your ear. “I know it’s scary, but I promise the plane is perfectly safe.”
Another large bump takes over the plane.
You hear the fasten seatbelt sign beep into the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” you immediately tense at the sound of the pilot over the speakers, fearing the worst. “We are experiencing some moderate turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts as we get through the choppy air. Flight attendants, please take your seats.”
You feel your eyes prick with tears at the last line. If the flight attendants aren’t allowed to stand, this must be bad. Right? You feel your thoughts spiral.
Macklin reaches to buckle you both into his seatbelt. It’s not the safest or most comfortable decision, but he knows you need him more than anything, and moving you to sit in your seat alone would just make your anxiety worse. He’s been through much worse turbulence in the league and knows it won’t be the end of the world if you stay curled up to him.
He feels wetness on his shirt as the rate of bumps increase.
He tilts your chin up to him to meet your eyes with him.
He heart sinks at the sight of your teary eyes. He caresses your cheek, wiping the tears as they fall.
“It’s okay to be scared, my love. I’ve got you,” he holds eye contact to provide stability. “Think of the jello trick. We’re just a raisin in jello. Completely safe. Uncomfortable, but safe.”
His words break your spiraling thoughts, thinking back to the video the two of you watched together on TikTok, comparing turbulence to a raisin in jello. Though it’s silly, Mack didn’t laugh at you when you nodded along to the creator’s analogy with hope in your eyes.
“I’m scared.”
Your voice fails you, wavering. Macklin feels his heart break at your vulnerability.
“I know, baby. I know. You’re being so brave.”
You let out a sob at his words and hide your face back into his chest. Mack responds by rubbing your back gently and placing kisses to your head in between words of affirmation.
“Keep breathing, honey.”
Kiss.
“It’s okay, my love.”
Kiss.
“It’s almost over.”
Kiss.
“We’re safe, y/n/n.”
Kiss.
“I love you.”
Kiss.
Your muscles release in his hold with each kiss and praise. His hand remains trailing up and down your back, trying to rub the shakes away.
The intensity of turbulence has decreased now, though the plane remains unsteady. And though you should feel better that the worst movements have stopped, you feel unsettled at the small bumps, as if they are a warning that the large ones will come back at any second.
Mack knows this, and continues to offer his gestures of comfort and reassurance.
The plane settles after another 5 minutes of turbulence. And even though the plane’s shaking has stopped, yours has not.
“Y/n, sweetheart, you’re still shaking.” His words are laced with careful concern.
You reply with a weak hum of acknowledgment.
“How ‘bout we try some breathing exercises, yeah?” He offers, hoping the exercises you learned together will help regulate your body.
“Deep breath in,” he instructs while taking an exaggerated breath.
“Hold,” he waits a few seconds. “And out.”
He lets the air out with you, guiding you with his words and dramatic breaths to help you follow him.
In between each cycle of breathing he offers words of encouragement.
“And out,” he finishes another cycle with you as your shaking decreases. “Good job, y/n/n. You’re doing so well.”
The cycle continues.
Macklin adds some grounding squeezes to the sides of your arms as you come back to your body.
You look up into his eyes, blinking slowly at his gaze of admiration and love.
“You okay?” He asks softly.
“Yeah,” you mutter with a smile tugging at your lips. Your heart pulsing, not with fear like before but with complete love at the man in front of you. “Thank you.”
Macklin doesn’t bat an eye at your gratitude that is hinted with embarrassment, “Of course, y/n/n. Always.”
And you know he means it.
He says it like your panic attack doesn’t phase him. Likes it’s the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is. Because you’re his world. So if guiding you through your fears is apart of having you in his life, then it’s your normal together. He will do it every time without hesitation.
You smile at Mack and press a peck to his lips, breathing in his after shave. He plasters a contagious, cheesy grin on his face as you pull away.
The two of you are smiling at each other while you sit in his lap still, on your way to your dream destination for your anniversary.
Though there be turbulence in the air, there will never be turbulence in your relationship.
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Quick fic for the people as I know summer is approaching and so is traveling! I know it’s silly, but knowing that NHL players have to fly all the time lowkey helps me calm down on flights. Is that crazy? Idk…
Anyways, thank you so much for the support! I’m excited to keep writing for you all.
As always, my inbox is open, so please send things in! <3
Summary: As Will’s best friend and Mack warm up to each other for the summer, Mack becomes intrigued with your guitar.
A/n: this was inspired by the clip of Mack saying he’s always wanted to learn the guitar. Let me know what you think!
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It started with a simple ask.
“Woah. You have a guitar?” Macklin pointed to the guitar in the corner of your living room with a sudden fascination.
You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the smallest bit of color flushed into your cheeks at the sudden attention onto you.
“Yeah. Do you play?” You asked.
“I wish. I’ve always wanted to though. Do you?” He returns the question.
“I mean, yeah, but I’m not great or anything.” You shift your weight from one leg to another, hoping the movement will force your body to rid itself of its nerves.
This was Macklin’s first time at your place. Your childhood friend, Will Smith, introduced the two of you a few days ago, hoping to make his two closest friends bond for the summer. Mack is staying with Will for most of the summer, going back and forth between Boston and Cape Cod. You were used to spending your summers with Will at the beach, and were excited to hear of an additional person to play pickleball and ride bikes with. That was until you realized you’d have to actually meet Macklin for the first time.
You felt like you already knew Mack. The whole world practically felt like they knew Mack. But seeing pictures and videos of him, and the occasional wave or comment in the background of the FaceTime videos with Will is very different from actually standing in front of the six foot man. He’s much taller in person. And somehow, he’s even more attractive. This made you more aware of what you’ve been saying, doing, and how you look in the past few days.
Will started to notice your shy demeanor, but decided to give you a few more days to open up before he forces the wild side out of you. He did make a small comment, though, the day after meeting Mack when he noticed you were too self conscious to jump off the boat, afraid of feeling silly. He rolled his eyes with a soft smile at your refusal to jump before pushing you into the water. When you emerged from the water with your contagious laugh you had been holding in and a playful glare up to him, Will knew you’d warm up soon. He also knew it wouldn’t take long for Macklin to see why Will loved hanging out with you so much.
So now, a few days later, Will decided to speed up the process and invite himself over to your place, with Mack in tow. You two are neighbors in Cape Cod, but found yourselves spending most of your time at his place. Will often complained about this, claiming your place was more “cozy”. This leads to most movie nights being hosted in your living room while he bundles up with your soft blankets.
Will plopped himself dramatically on your couch and was watching the interaction above him, as the one-sided awkwardness you were projecting became obvious to your best friend. He decided to interject once he heard you downplay your talent. He turned his head to Mack,
“She’s just being modest. She’s great at guitar. A great singer, too.” Will now turned to you. “Play something for him, y/n/n.”
Mack lit up at the suggestion, but waited for you to make a decision, not wanting to pressure you like Will was.
“I don’t think he’d want to hear-” you started to brush off the suggestion, hoping the attention would naturally shift back onto one of them. The two of them were staring at you, and the blush you had been fending off was only growing.
“Of course he wants to hear it!” Will interjects. “I want to hear it.”
Will pulls out a dramatic pleading look, “Please?” And though his puppy-dog eyes and stuck out lip isn’t serious, there is a glint of genuine softness coming from him. You know Will just wants to show you off. He’s always made it a point to highlight what makes you special, especially with the attention always going to him growing up. And though you’ve never minded the attention going to Will, and almost preferred it with too much attention making you uncomfortable, he always found a way to make sure everyone in the room saw you the way he did.
You sigh at his request and your shoulders drop, knowing you can’t say no to Will when he’s trying to be nice. You glance at Macklin as you walk to your guitar and notice his smile has grown at your agreeance to play.
You sit on the edge of the couch, the guitar dividing you and Will, with Mack on his other side, perched more cautiously than Will’s stretched out demeanor.
You check the strings and adjust them to be in tune. You find yourself fidgeting with the tuning pegs more than you need to, but the two young men don’t know the difference and you let their lack of musical knowledge be an excuse for a few extra seconds of stalling. After another ten seconds of this, you realize they likely know you’re stalling, but are trying to be patient as to not scare you away.
You finally look up to see both of them looking at you with intrigue, Mack’s more soft than Will as he hasn’t seen this side of you yet. He didn’t want to scare you away, and was hoping to offer you polite support in hopes of you warming up to him. He noticed your shy nature coming out more when he was around, but didn’t feel insulted. He’s seen videos of you and Will messing with each other, and knew how bubbly you could really be, but understood you and Will had years of friendship to get to that point. He had only a few days. Still, he knew how much you meant to Will and was promised by Will that once you’d open up he’d “wish she never did.” Mack had scoffed playfully at Will’s comment after looking for reassurance from his best friend to see if he was doing something wrong after two days of your quiet demeanor.
You place your fingers on the fret board and start plucking the strings at a gentle pace. You let yourself warm up into the music, growing more confident in your abilities as the chord progression advances. You become lost in the music, forgetting the pair in front of you are there.
You start to hum the song you had just started learning on the guitar, “Creep”. Gaining confidence, you sing from the beginning.
Your voice travels enough for Will and Mack to hear you, but only because they are sitting so closely on the couch. Both had subconsciously scooched closer to you when you started playing, Mack especially.
Mack felt his heart beat in his chest at the sound of your sweet tone complimenting the guitar. He wasn’t used to being around musicians. Sure, a few guys would miraculously have an okay voice in the locker rooms here and there, but real talent wasn’t something he stumbled upon often. And never in such an intentional, intimate way. He felt as if your voice was reaching out to him, like a siren in the sea.
He hoped the moment would never end, but you were now on the last verse. He wished he’d secretly recorded you to relive the moment later. Next time. Maybe he’ll be able to convince you to sing more this summer.
You let the last chord ring out, not wanting to break the moment and come back to reality.
A deep sigh takes you out of the moment with yourself.
You look up to source and meet eyes with Macklin.
He looks…enamored. You see an expression in him you haven’t met before, and though it’s hard to read, you can tell there’s a positive captivation in it.
“Wow,” he whispers. You look down and blush. “That was amazing. Uh - I mean - you are amazing.”
“Thank you,” you quickly glance up to meet his gaze and shy away to meet Will’s gaze.
“Yeah, y/n/n. We gotta get you to do that more often,” Will says kindly, not before teasing you, “Maybe at the 4th of July party!”
Your cheeks grow red at the embarrassing suggestion and shove Will’s shoulder.
“No! Don’t even put that out there! I would rather skinny dip like your idiotic friends at that party than sing in front of all of your hockey people and the entire neighborhood.” You glare at Will’s suggestion, as if he was forcing you to get on stage right this moment.
“You have skinny-dipped at that party,” he points at you like that would help his case.
“I was four, and I thought it would replace my bath time. It doesn’t count,” you roll your eyes.
You catch Mack in your line of vision becoming a light shade of pink, as he watches the dynamic of trying to embarrass each other.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Will squats away your hand that had poked his shoulder while countering his claim.
Mack clears his throat.
You and Will shift your attention to the boy on the other side of the couch.
He speaks up,
“Do you think you could show me?” He gestures to the guitar as he talks.
“What? The guitar?” You asked, surprised.
He nods his head.
“I’ve always wanted to learn, but never got the chance to.” He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, feeling embarrassed at the request. The teenage prodigy who is good at most anything he faces is asking a girl he met a few days ago to teach him the guitar. And better yet, he’s shy to ask.
“I’m probably not the best teacher, I mean, I’m not advanced or anything,” you feel Will’s eyes drifting between the two of you. He lets out a barely noticeable huff at this humbly-awkward interaction and decides to take matters into his own hands.
“He’s not looking to be a pro, y/n. Quit being humble and share your skills with the man!”
Mack watches your reaction sheepishly to Will’s blunt interjection, but offers you a reassuring smile to confirm Will’s claim.
You hesitate.
“Alright, yeah. Sure,” you give in.
Mack grins. His gummy smile is showing, something you’re grateful Will is able to pull out of him often. You hope you can do the same this summer.
You notice him staring at you after he thanked you, unsure of what to do next.
“Well, come here!” You say with a light laugh, while scooting away from Will to make space, and pat the empty spot next to you on the couch.
Shock and a slight blush rushes to his face, but he lets out a somewhat relaxed laugh when he hears yours.
He awkwardly climbs over Will to get to you and plops down a few inches further than necessary, but still close enough to see your freckles move as you speak.
“Okay, so there are six strings. This one is E, this one is A…” you continue to explain the parts of the guitar to Macklin as he shifts his gaze back and forth between you and the guitar. He sneaks glances to your face when he thinks you aren’t looking, and though you may not notice as much, Will certainly does. He smiles at his two best friends starting to warm up to each other.
As you teach Mack the first chord, he struggles to fit his fingers on the fret board.
“You’ve got chubby hockey player hands,” you tease with a laugh.
Macklin fake pouts and lets you adjust the angle of his fingers to fit better.
“Hey!” Will objects. “We don’t have chubby fingers!”
You laugh at his comment, but choose to focus on the student in front of you.
“Okay, now strum,” you instruct him.
Macklin tentatively strums the guitar, looking up at you with a slight grimace when the strings don’t make the same clear sound they made for you.
“Like this?” He asks hopefully.
“Almost,” you reach over and move one of his fingers that he had accidentally moved after your first adjustment. You press down his fingers, reinforcing the sound.
“Okay, try again while I hold them down.”
He uses more confidence this time to strum, and is rewarded with a more clear sound.
He looks up at you with pure joy - that gummy smile peeking out again.
“I did it!”
You laugh at his childlike glee.
“Good job, Mack,” you say with a softness in your voice.
“What’s the next chord?” He asks eagerly.
You start to show him the next one as his gaze remains on you. You notice his weight has shifted towards you and he is a few inches closer than before. You smile to yourself.
“At this rate,” Will chimes in, “Mack should play at the party while you sing, y/n/n.”
You reach over Mack to flick Will’s forehead. Will whines dramatically.
Mack laughs at your banter, and when you look at him, he’s already looking at you.
Maybe warming up to him this summer won’t be as hard as you thought.
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I think I want to turn this into a summer-long series of adventures between Will, Mack, and the reader. Thoughts?
Thank you soooo much for supporting me! The last fic did way better than I expected and all the love inspired me to write this one! Let me know what yall want to see for this potential series and any other recs you have <3
Summary: You decide to surprise Mack after his 115th point, but fall asleep before he gets home.
A/n: I’m back! Please send in requests for Mack or Will! Sorry if this is lowk bad, I wrote this kinda quickly, so I’ll edit it later :)
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Macklin’s face is wrapped in the soft glow of your shared apartment as he creeps open the door. He gently places his bag down, and rolls his suitcase in behind him.
His watch reads 3:16 am.
The game to end the season ended a few hours ago. The adrenaline from the win and his recording-breaking game is starting to wear down, as the fatigue of the roadtrip settles in. Now, all he wants is to climb into bed with you and hold you as you sleep.
The picture of your comforter enveloping your body as you sleep in your shared bed takes over his mind, and he is quick to turn the corner to get to you.
Walking into the living room, he stopped in his tracks.
The simple living room he is accustomed to is no where to be found.
Instead, the living room is littered with decorations.
A banner reading “Yay 115!” hangs against the back wall. It is unevenly placed, and he puts together the image of you being able to stand on the bookshelf next to the higher side of the banner to hang it, but trying (and failing) to jump as high as you can on the other side without the convenience of the bookshelf under it- leaving one end of the banner slanted down to represent your lack of height compared to Macklin.
Next to the banner had streamers coming down from the wall.
About 20 balloons filled the small spot between the couch and the coffee table.
Two cupcakes sat on the coffee table. White and teal sprinkles covered the frosting, with a toothpick and cut out picture of Macklin’s face taped to the top.
He laughed to himself at the picture, knowing how much you loved the shot of him staring into the camera with his big eyes, interrupting the stream of a sewerball game earlier in the season.
He heard the faint sound of “Celebration” coming from the TV, and noticed the glow of the room mainly coming from the TV showing a generic celebration picture as the song played on a loop.
In the midst of the celebratory chaos, you laid curled up on the couch.
Macklin melted at the sight of you.
A too-tight party hat cut through your puffy cheeks as you slept. A noisemaker dangled out of your mouth as you slept, a slight whistle ringing out as you exhaled. A matching set of each accessory sat in your lap, which he was sure you intended him to wear.
Mack carefully stepped around the balloons on the floor and crouched down to your level.
His thumb reached for the side of your face and started gently rubbing up and down your cheek.
You stirred at the contact and opened your eyes with hints of confusion and aversion to the light coming from the lamp beside the couch.
Your confusion quickly faded as your eyes met Macklin’s.
“Hi baby,” he said with a shy smile. “I’m home.”
You leaned into his touch. He stilled his thumb, but moved his hand to cup your cheek.
You hummed at his affection.
“Hi,” you said, becoming shy as you realized how silly you must look with the accessories still on. You meant to stay up to surprise him, but the excitement of the game and putting up the decorations wore you out.
His smile grew, and so did your confidence.
“Congratulations, Mackie. ‘M so proud of you. So proud.”
“Thank you, y/n,” he said softly. He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. His nose brushed the party hat still strapped to your head. This brought your attention to the accessories in your lap.
“Here!” You opened the elastic band wide on the party hat. He took this as an invitation to bring his head towards the opening, allowing you to place the hat on his head.
You giggled at the sight of the too-tight elastic smooshing in his cheeks and the small party hat sticking out from his head.
You grabbed the noise maker that had now fallen to your chest, and placed it in between your lips. You blow into it, startling Macklin at the loud sound, and certainly waking you both up more.
You laugh at his startled face. He grabs the extra noise maker in your lap and brings it to his lips.
He blows into it with less gusto as you.
You take his noise making as an invitation to make more.
Sitting up further, you start to continuously blow the noise maker in his face, purposefully being obnoxious.
He giggles at your burst of energy, rather than feeling annoyed. Mack could never truly feel annoyed with your antics. He found it endearing how comfortable you got with him.
The noise maker remained in his mouth, which made a few weak high pitched noises come out of it as he giggles.
He finally grabs your waist and pulls you close, simultaneously stopping your onslaught of loud noises in his face and bringing you close to him to feel his gratitude.
He sighs as you melt into each other.
His soft hair tickles your ear in the embrace.
“I really am so proud of you, you know that?” You mutter into his ear.
He hums in response.
“I love you, Mackie. You never fail to amaze me.”
He gently pulls you back at your words, wanting to see your face.
He looks younger in this light. More soft and gentle than the man you see on TV. Though you love to see him shine in the spotlight, this is your favorite version of him. His features are accentuated more in the glow of the lamp and the surrounding darkness of the room casts various shadows on his face. His eyes are a lighter green, with the smallest bit of red replacing the whites of his eyes from the fatigue of the game and traveling so late at night. His face is freshly shaved, something he made a point to do in his post-game shower, as he knows how you prefer his soft-skinned kisses. He doesn’t look like the Macklin Celebrini the whole world knows. He looks like your Mack. The man who begs you to scratch his head during movies and makes you protein-powder pancakes with his shirt off before morning practice. Outside of your apartment, he is the world’s. But here, with you? He is yours.
“Thank you for everything. You are so good to me. You didn’t have to do all of this.” He references the decoration in his last sentence, but keeps his gaze on you throughout.
“You deserve it. I want to celebrate you. Always.”
He blushes at your words.
“Celebrate? You? Nooo…,” he teases, looking around at the explosion of decor while trying to hide his blush.
“Ha ha,” you say with a straight face. “You know you like it.”
His blush deepens at this.
You decide to spare him and change the subject.
“Come on, try the cupcake I made,” you reach forward and grab the two cupcakes on the coffee table, handing him one.
He laughs at the picture of his zoomed in face, to which your grin grows.
“You like it?” You ask with a shy tease.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says with no indication of meaning it. His gummy smile plastered on his face almost looks painful as his joy takes up his face.
The two of you peel back the wrapper on your cupcakes and tap the edge of the cupcakes as you cheers.
“To my record-breaker,” you toast as you cheers.
“To my perfect girlfriend,” he replies. He always finds a way to make his successes about you.
You both take a bite at the same time. You watch his eyes widen at the taste.
“S’good,” he says with his mouth full. You laugh at his excitement.
“Thank you, Mackie. I made them during the game. I had a good feeling about the outcome. There’s more in the kitchen.”
As you talk, you watch him watch you. You look around as you talk, but his gaze stays on you the whole time.
Macklin reaches his hand up to your mouth and brushes off some stray frosting at the corner of your lips with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, licking off the frosting as he holds eye contact.
Your breath catches at the domestic and unintentionally attractive action. He notices you short-circuiting at his frosting cleanup, but decides to spare you from too much teasing. Instead, he wears a knowing smirk and pats the side of your hip.
“Thank you for all of this, y/n/n. Let’s head to bed. Don’t want you falling asleep on the couch again,” he says with a glimmer in his eyes and the smallest smirk dancing on his lips.
You groan at his last comment, but nod your head. Your gaze had become softer in the last few minutes, a fact he had noticed. This is no surprise though because Macklin is a noticer. He always watching you. He can tell the moment something in you shifts, based on the smallest change in your expression.
Macklin quickly throws out both of your cupcake wrappers, turns off the TV, and comes back to the couch with his hand offered out to you. You take it with a smile and let him lead you to bed.
Your fatigue increases as you drift further into the apartment. Mack guides you to the bathroom as you brush your teeth and do your skincare together, before changing into your pajamas.
You crawl into bed, landing in his outstretched arms. You breathe in his scent, and feel yourself relax at the feeling of his bare chest against your face. He brings one hand to your back, rubbing soft circles, and the other to massage your scalp. He knows this combination will quickly set you to sleep.
“I love you,” you mumble into his chest.
You feel his response vibrate through his body and onto your cheek, “I love you more. Sweet dreams, my love.”
You let out a final hum of affection as you feel his hands coax you into sleep.
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Hi! I’m back! I know it’s been a loooong time, but after spending a good chunk of time being just a reader, I decided to come back as a writer. I’m looking to clean up my page and make it easier to navigate, but wanted to put this out first.
PLEASE send in any requests or asks because I’d love to make your RPF hockey dreams come true <3
