Javivi's Hockey

[multitalentednerd]

ok guys help me PLEASE i cannot find any clips/good quality pics of connor on this day this off-season putting the pats jacket on and I NEVER SEE THEM IN EDITS which is criminal bcs i think it's the literally the best he's ever looked in his life so PLEASE PLEASE share if u have some 🙏🙏

[cattyb2]

summer nights | will smith

Pairing: will smith x reader

Prompt: will smith is the picture of perfection. he takes you out for your first date with his bronco, a hike, the stars, and the fireflies

requested!

Your knowledge of Will Smith has been growing more and more over the last 26 days. Not that you have been counting or anything. Ever since you took an embarrassing little spill in front of him on the sidewalk, unbeknownst to you, Will Smith has checked his phone religiously, hoping each time he turns it on he’ll see your name, hoping that he would get a text back. And when he did, Macklin is there to immediately groan because his best friend is crushing hard.

It started with a long day at work, picking up take out, and your heel deciding that was the moment it wanted to get stuck in a grate on the sidewalk.

Work was horrible on the night you happened to meet Will. The day ran longer than it was supposed to, and with your skirt and heels you looked out of place picking up take out from a bar. But, it was some of your favorite comfort food, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. As you grab the bag, thanking the worker, you exit onto the street. It was mostly empty, except for a set of men walking together, talking and elbowing each other as they went.

You put your head down slightly, fishing for your car keys that somehow always manage to fall to the very bottom of your purse. But because your sights where not on the ground in front of you, you happened to miss that you started walking over a grate that was protecting a tree on the sidewalk. And if there are two things that do not mix well together, it is a metal grate and a stiletto heel. Before you knew it, your foot went down, and you yelled out a few very unladylike swears.

“Shit, hold on.” You heard a voice from your side. And you look up to see the two guys who were walking stop and try to help you.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine really, I wasn’t paying attention.” You say, slightly embarrassed over this.

“It’s okay.” The tall blonde said with a wide smile. “Here, let me help.” And before you know it, he’s grabbing the bag of food out of your hand, handing it to the slightly darker haired man. Then he comes up beside you, offering out his arm, obviously wanting you to reach out for him instead of the other way around.

You chuckle at the gesture, but take it willingly. With the sturdy arm of the man, you're able to bend down, balancing basically on your one foot that’s actually on the sidewalk, and yank your heel out of the decorative grate.

Once you’re freed, and you have both feet planted carefully back on the concrete, the other man hands you your food back with a kind smile.

“Thank you.” You say, laughing a bit at yourself as you look down. “I wasn’t paying attention and I guess that’s what I get.” You joke, looking back up at them both as you smile.

“Will.” The man who offered his arm says to you, and you nod and introduce yourself too. Mack speaks up a second later, but he’s now got a different smirk than he had before as he watches his friend.

It didn’t take long for you guys to get to talking, and then the next thing you know, he’s adding his number to your phone, telling you to text him next time your shoe decides to get a mind of it’s own.

“Well in that case, I don’t think you’ll go long without hearing from me.” You joke, knowing you’re very balanced, yet very clumsy. How both can be true at the same time has been a mystery to you all your life.

“Good.” He says, and the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes case a spark to ignite inside of you.

It did not take long to text him after you got safely back into your car, and Will did not waste a second before responding.

—

Almost an entire month passes of texting, which has frankly been non stop, not that you’re complaining at all. But over the 26 days you have come to learn the basics of Will, and he has learned the basics of you.

Which always leads you to defending yourself profusely. Because you swear to him that you’re normally more coordinated. To which Will always responds with how he’ll believe that when he sees it.

You decide you’ve had enough of that, needing to prove you are not a clumsy person.

You: Have you ever been here?

You text him one morning, standing in front of your coffee maker at home as you scroll past pictures of a hiking trail in San Jose.

Will: No, believe it or not I’ve actually been meaning to go

Will: I also have a pretty open Saturday this week, if that is up someone’s alley

You: Who’s alley are you hoping that would be?

Will: Maybe the one of the person I’ve been texting for 26 days

You: Hmm… I feel like that doesn’t really narrow it down

Will: Okay, how about this. Maybe the one of this really beautiful woman I saw not pay attention to where she was walking one night, and a very dangerous looking heel happened to slip into a grate

You: Oh her!

You: Lucky for you, this is up her alley

Will: Are you sure? Because evidence isn’t on her side when it comes to being aware of her surroundings

You: Is there something you’re trying to ask me, William? Or are you just insulting me instead?

You wait for his response anxiously, watching as the bubbles appear, disappear, and then appear again. On the other side of the phone, Will is sitting on the bench after practice. The redness of this cheeks he’s hoping he can pass off as it’s from the training they just did. But of course, Macklin knows him better than that. So through the teasing, and the shoulder shoving, Will responds with what he’s wanted to ask you from the moment he saw you, even before the slip.

Will: Would you like to go out on a date with me? I’ll even catch you before you fall this time

You: Asking me out AND insinuating I’m going to injure myself in the same text?

You: My my William, you are bold

Will: I’ve had a month to gather the courage

You: I’ll see you on Saturday

—

By the time Saturday rolls around, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your workout set is cute, and you remember to bring along a zip up just in case.

The thought of being with Will is exciting. Luckily, there is none of that awkward get to know you phase with the two of you, instead, you tease and joke like you’ve known each other for years. That comfort also helping as you still stare at your reflection. The tank top fits you perfectly, and then biker shorts accentuate what god has gifted you in the back.

So as you pack a small backpack you have for hiking, you hear the sound of tires, a car door closing, and then the ringing of your doorbell.

You smile, not able to hide it as you weren’t expecting him to come to the door. But after all, Will does have that gentleman way to him.

You open the door, smiling at him before you take him in. And his smile turns to a smirk, but you can’t help it as it’s due to your eyes roaming over him. The black shirt fits him like a glove, and it stretches so perfectly around his biceps that you want to drool. His black shorts are looser than his shirt, but Will’s thick thighs fill those out nicely as well.

What you don’t realize, because you’re too busy checking him out, is that he is also checking you out. The blue workout set you have on makes his breathing pick up, and it doesn’t slow as he takes notes of your tan skin on display. And Will can almost hear Macklin in his head, because seeing you right now, Will knows he’s down bad.

“Come in.” You say after officially greeting him. “I just have to grab my hiking boots.” You say, and he nods.

He asks you a few questions as you gather your things, but Will refuses to let you carry them out to his Bronco. You smirk as you take in the car. You knew he had one, he told you just once about it, but seeing how good Will looks behind the wheel as he drives you two to the trail was another thing.

The windows are down, music is playing but softly enough that you could still hold a conversation with each other without shouting. And even though it’s a 20 minute drive, you swear only two have passed by the time he parks.

“I still don’t think you’ve proven to me that you can stay on two feet for this whole hike.” He jokes, jogging around to your side of the Bronco and opening the door for you.

“These are some outlandish statements.” You say, slipping out of the unfairly comfortable seat and walking with him to the trunk. Both your boots and his boots sit in the back, and you go to grab them, but Will moves quicker. He smirks, seeing the look of “how the fuck am I going to get these boots on without falling over and proving this idiot right”.

So, he plants his hands respectfully on your waist, and lifts you up, aiming to set you down on the lip of the trunk. You startle out of shock more than anything, your hands instantly going to his shoulders as he gently sets you down. You look at him, unknowingly biting your lip from the feeling of having his hands on you.

He smirks, chuckling quietly as his eyes stay glued to your face for a few seconds longer than he means too.

“Thank you.” You say, your voice a little squeaker than normal.

“We couldn’t have you falling already.” He jokes as he sits down next to you, kicking his sneakers off and slipping into hiking boots of his own.

You scoff with a laugh at his words. “You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“No.” He says, tying his laces up before you even get the chance to put your boots on. But you roll your eyes, shoving lightly at his arm, not surprised as he doesn’t even move an inch from your push.

Fucking hockey players.

As you slip your feet into your boots, you hold off on tying them. That is, until Will steps in. He steps in front of you, sticking his leg out a bit and patting his skin. And you look at him with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing?” You ask, but Will just shakes his head at your stubbornness and lifts your boot up to rest on his thigh. “Will!” You exclaim, but you watch as he tightens the laces, taking his time so he knows it’s secure to your foot.

“I just want to make sure they’re tight enough.” He says, carefully dropping your foot down and patting his leg for you to put up the next.

“I’m telling Macklin.” You say, and Will laughs loudly at your comment. “Actually.” You say, reaching for your phone and taking a picture of what is happening. You snap a few, and not only do you smile as he looks at you, but you smile because he really is the most gorgeous looking man you’ve ever seen. the way the sunlight shines off his golden hair that is curling under his hat, the way his cheeks have just a bit of color every time he looks at you. Plus, all the gentlemanly acts? You are for sure, without a doubt, a goner.

You have Mack’s number luckily because he once decided to text you a picture of Will smiling at his phone. You never typed anything back, only loved the message. But since then there’s been a few more times you’ve sent photos. One of Will coming to rescue you when you had a flat tire a week ago, and one sent from Mack of Will, once again, smiling at his phone.

But when you send Mack the photo, and he actually gives you a typed reply.

Mack: That is so embarrassing for him. I’m sending that in the groupchat

To drive the point home Mack also sends a couple dog emojis as well. You laugh out loud, and Will already knows Mack is probably teasing the hell out of him. But honestly, Will can’t find it in himself to care. Because if that’s what it takes to have you look at him like that, to laugh like that, Will would embarrass himself for the rest of his life.

—

The hike starts out amazing, everything around Will is gorgeous, but nothing compares to you. He stares at your skin, how the light makes it glow, he stares at your slightly pink cheeks, and your smile when you listen to him talk. And yes, sue him, but as you step ahead of him through a patch where you can only walk single file for a few yards, he once… or twice.. stares at the shorts that hug your ass.

Halfway through you both stop to look at the hills, and you don’t know if it’s the outdoors, or Will, but find yourself talking about your childhood.

“You did this a lot?” He asks in response to something you just said, so interested in your life that he can’t possibly think to talk about anything else.

“Yeah.” You say with a smile. “My grandma loved the outdoors, she’d take me camping, boating, hiking.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.” You say, and you don’t miss the understanding that covers Will’s features. ”I'm sorry, that isn’t very first date conversation starter of me.” You joke, but Will shakes his head.

“Was she ever here?” He asks, as you both continue on.

“No.” You say, looking into his eyes. “No, it was one of the places she always wanted to hike but never got around to it.”

“What are the other places, the ones she didn’t see?”

You tell him, because you know them off the top of your head, and Will nods, pocketing them away, remembering them so he can take you there to witness what she couldn’t.

The conversation gets softer after that, Will tells you about his family, his Dad, his Mom, his older sister. He talks about her with pride, and you tell him he should be, because she sounds amazing.

But the day gets to the point where you honestly don’t know how long you guys have walked, but you pause at the large tree that has fallen down in the middle of the path.

“Woah.” Will says, and you nod. “Okay wait.” He says, climbing over the tree and doing it with so much ease you drop your jaw. I mean it helps that Will is basically 6 foot, but you look down at yourself and think there is no way in hell you can do that. “Come here.” He says, obviously seeing your hesitation.

“I think we’ve established I shouldn’t be trusted with something like this.” You joke, walking closer to where Will is.

“Grab here.” He says, motioning to his bicep. You raise your eyebrow, and he chuckles, looking down for a second. “Just trust me.” He says, his cheeks pink and his smile wide.

So you nod, gripping onto his bicep. He tells you where to place your foot, and then tells you to jump a bit.

“I promise I’ll catch you.” He says, looking at you.

“I’m not worried about that.” You say, but before he can ask what you're worried about, living up to your nature, your foot slips on the trunk of the tree. You go down without a second thought. Will lunges for you immediately, and he manages to grab you before you can clip some body part on the tree that you’re sure with your luck you would have managed to break. But the cost of Will catching you? Is that the way he had to lunge causes him to be the one to fall, your body safe as he tucks you against him.

“Oh my god.” You say, immediately twisting and looking at him. “Oh my god Will, I’m so sorry.” You exclaim, panic setting in a bit. But you’re not met with anger or even frustration, instead you're met with that same giggling laugh you’ve grown to care for. “Are you… laughing?” You ask, so flabbergasted that you can’t help but to laugh at his laugh.

“Sweetheart, I will never let you forget any of this.” He says, standing up and making sure you’re okay and didn’t hurt yourself.

“I’m fine Will, I promise. You’re the one that fell, let me look at-“ But you stop talking when you see the cut on his shoulder, the rip in the once perfect and sexy black shirt. “Oh fuck.” You say, getting closer to him and looking at it. “I’m so sorry, oh my god! It’s our first date and I’ve basically attempted murder.” You say, causing Will to laugh.

“It doesn't even hurt.” He tells you, trying not to tease you because you are very, very concerned.

“Take this off.” You say, pulling slightly at the ripped shirt. Will’s eyes look to you, but he sees how serious you look.

“Y/N.” He says, eyes full of different emotions. “I’m okay.”

“What, you shy or something?” You ask him, putting a hand on your hip as Will’s eyes flash with playful fire. “I said, take it off, William.”

“Fine.” He says, smirking at you as he does. And my god you were not ready for it. Because Will was definitely sent by some god.

“Well?” He says, holding his arms out with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m not sure who is allowing you to look like that but.. wow.” You say, blushing at your own boldness, and walking towards Will as he eyes you up and down.

The cut isn’t bad, but for being out in the trees you’re not very thrilled. It is bleeding, but you’re lucky enough to have a rag in your bag that you dump a little water on.

“You know I’m a professional hockey player, right?” He asks as you shush him and wipe at it with the now wet rag.

“Just let me.” You say, and he nods, letting you take care of him, and as much as he won't admit it to you now, it feels pretty good to let you take care of him.

—

By the time you make it back to the car, you both are tired, but in that way that makes you feel accomplished. You check your phone and see a missed text from Mack. You sent another picture not too long ago, this one being of Will, still gloriously shirtless, the red and still slightly bleeding cut able to be seen in the picture.

Macklin: Oh my god, tell me he fell over

You laugh as you read it, and show it to Will.

“He’s a jackass.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Yeah.” He says, taking a pause. “Yeah he is.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to be relaxed, the sun now setting, but there’s the mutual understanding between the two of you that neither of you want the day to end.

So now here you are, still parked in the now empty parking lot as you guys lay in the back of the Bronco. The sun has now long since set, and with it comes the cooler air, the stars and the fireflies. Much to your quiet disappointment, Will of course has put on a sweatshirt, after continuously trying to convince you that the cut is nothing. But with the cool breeze entering the Bronco, you shiver. Your zip up not doing much to take the chill out of your bones.

“Here.” He says, reaching backwards and bringing forth a teal sweatshirt.

“Wow, already wanting me to wear your number?” You joke, unfolding the sweatshirt to see his name and his number on the back. “I figured this would have been a third date activity.”

“Put it on.” He says, licking his bottom lip as you unzip your thin zip up and shrug on his sweatshirt. It swallows you, the sleeves covering your hands, and if you stand you’re sure it would look like you are wearing a dress.

“This is insanely comfortable.” You say, cocking your head a bit at Will. “I think I have to buy myself one of these.”

“Keep it.” He says, unable to stop his smile.

“Oh, I can’t-“

“Keep it.” He repeats again, and his eyes meet yours.

You watch him open his mouth, watch as he’s about to say something to you, but a firefly interrupts. It flies right in between the two of you, landing on the back of his seat. You smile at it, but Will stops you.

“Wait.” He says and you freeze, turning your face to his as his hand comes up slowly. His fingers swipe at your shoulder, and you watch as the firefly lights up a few times in his palm before flying back out of the Bronco. You both watch it, watch all of them through the night sky. And for a moment you just take it all in. The perfect day, the perfect night, and the little lightning bugs that make it look as beautiful as ever.

You turn back towards Will, ready to say something, only when you turn you see he’s already staring at you.

“What?” You ask with a little chuckle.

“Nothing.” He says, not breaking his gaze. “You’re just-“ He starts, and you give him the second before he finishes. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“Will-“ You start, because you were going to deflect. Going to change the subject or do something because for the life of you, you cannot take a compliment.

“You are beautiful.” He says again, and you look down and blush at the words. But his hand comes up, fingers resting under your chin as he pulls it up to be level with his. And for once, you let him look at you like that, like you are something worth looking at. And Will smiles, as he leans in, and presses his lips to yours.

It is soft, gentle, and it is everything that makes your body spark. Your hand comes up, resting in the soft mound of his hair, and when you finally pull away you can’t seem to wrap your head around why you did. So you smirk, and pull Will back to your mouth.

And as you guys kiss in the back of his Bronco, you couldn’t think of a more perfect end to the day.

[pucksandpaddock]

𝑮𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 -𝐖𝐒𝟐

Will Smith x Girlfriend Reader Word Count: 675 Summary: When a reporter points out that you once dated Caroline Harvey and are now dating Will Smith, the internet is convinced you've got a very specific type. One innocent comment later, and social media is sent into complete chaos… much to Will's horror. Genre: Fluff, Established Relationship, PWHL x NHL Crossover

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

The press room was surprisingly relaxed.

Most of the questions had been about the season, training, and what it’s been like balancing your own PWHL career while dating someone in the NHL.

Will was sitting a few chairs away, waiting for his turn with another group of reporters, occasionally glancing over whenever your laughter drifted across the room.

“So,” one reporter began, flipping through their notes. “The internet has noticed… something interesting.”

You smiled cautiously. “That usually means I'm about to regret this.”

Laughter rippled through the room as the reporter grinned.

“People have pointed out that before you started dating Will, you briefly dated Caroline Harvey.”

You nodded. “That’s true.”

“And now you’re dating Will Smith.”

Another nod.

“The internet seems to be convinced that… well…” he looked down at his phone before reading one of the posts out loud.

“Girl dates exclusively within USA Hockey.”

The room laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I’ve seen some of those.”

Another reporter jumped in. “There are also a lot of comparisons between the two of them, how similar they look.”

From across the room, Will’s head slowly lifted.

He already knew where this was going.

“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath.

“So…” the first reporter continued, “Do you have any comments?”

You looked over at Will.

He was already shaking his head, don’t do it.

You smiled innocently. “What can I say?”

You shrugged. “I have a type.”

For a moment the room was silent.

Then everyone burst into laughter.

Across the room, Will dropped his head into his hands. “Oh no, really”

You laughed. “What?”

He looked up at you with the most betrayed expression imaginable. “You can not say things like that on camera.”

“I just did though.”

“You’re going to make it worse!”

One of the reporters was laughing so hard they nearly dropped their pen. “So… your type is Team USA hockey players, who look alike?”

You pretended to think about it. “Apparently so.”

Will groaned loud enough for half the room to hear. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

He was right.

Within twenty minutes, every social media platform was in meltdowns.

WHAT CAN I SAY I HAVE A TYPE

SHE ACTUALLY SAID THAT

WILL’S FACE I'M SCREAMING

TEAM USA IS NEVER RECOVERING

KK is somewhere laughing rn.

She really chose violence.

KK GIRL GET YOUR EX BACK 😭

WILL SMITH YOU ARE LITERALLY THE SEQUEL

USA HOCKEY WOMEN'S/MEN'S TEAM POWER COUPLE PIPELINE

The Team USA group chat is going CRAZY.

Later that evening, Will walked into the living room holding his phone in front of him.

“I’d just like you to know,” he said, trying very hard to sound serious. “That almost every single teammate I've ever had has texted me about that.”

You looked up from the couch. “Every single one?”

“Every. Single. One.”

“What are they saying”

He sighed dramatically before reading one out loud.

“So… what’s her type then? Asking for a friend.”

You immediately burst into laughter as he pointed accusingly at you. “This is your fault.”

“It is.”

“I had to explain to my mum why people think I look like your ex girlfriend.”

“Oops.”

“They're calling me Harvey jr now.”

“Oh no.”

“They're comparing our yearbook photos.”

You laughed even harder. “I can’t breathe.”

“I’ve had three people send me side by side photos, baby!”

You wiped tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“...No.”

He sighed, dropping onto the couch beside you before pulling you into his side. “You know,” he muttered, “next interview, I'm just telling everyone your type is blonde hockey players.”

You smiled up at him. “I mean…”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“I can literally see the joke forming in your head.”

You grinned. “What can I say?”

Will groaned before you could even finish.

“I have a type.”

He buried his face in your shoulder. “I'm breaking up with you.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “No, you're not.”

“...No,” he admitted into your shoulder. “Probably not.”

Author's Note: I had this idea when I noticed just how similar they looked. I also redid my theme slightly, and OMG it's taken ages, but I like it, so I'm not changing it. Another thing is I have a good amount of Will fics coming soon

[linaaawrites]

Imagine Gavin McKenna moving to Toronto and becoming your new neighbour (maybe reader doesn´t know who he is in the beginning and they kind of get off on the wrong foot??)

Next Door Neighbour

pairing: Gavin McKenna x female reader

description: Your new neighbor's loud habits drive you crazy.

TW: Fluff, verbal conflict, anxiety, emotional vulnerability.

masterlist

The bass thumps through your wall at exactly 7:03 AM. It's a familiar, unwelcome alarm clock that's been disrupting your morning routine for two weeks now. You groan into your pillow, pulling it over your head in a futile attempt to muffle the sound. Your neighbor, the new one you've never actually seen has a predictable pattern: obnoxiously loud music in the morning, blaring television at night and occasional bursts of what sounds like furniture being moved at odd hours.

As a third-year university student with early morning classes and a mountain of assignments, you need quiet. You need focus. What you get is a soundtrack to someone else's life, pumped through the thin walls of your apartment building at all hours.

Tonight is particularly bad. You're trying to finish a paper that's due tomorrow, your brain already fried from a long day of lectures. The television next door is so loud that you can make out every line of dialogue, every explosion, every dramatic musical swell.

Finally, at 10:47 PM, you snap.

You slam your laptop shut, grab your keys and march out into the hallway. Your heart pounds with righteous indignation as you stand before apartment 4B, raising your hand to knock.

The door swings open to reveal a guy about your age, with messy brown hair and the most infuriatingly attractive face you've ever seen. He's wearing a gray hoodie and sweatpants and he looks at you with mild surprise, as if he wasn't expecting a confrontation at this hour.

"Can I help you?" he asks, and you notice his voice is deeper than you expected, with a slight rasp that does something annoying to your insides.

"Actually, you can help me by turning down your tv," you say, crossing your arms. "Some of us are trying to study."

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Studying? At this hour? Shouldn't you be out partying or something?"

"Some of us have priorities," you retort. "And some of us have consideration for their neighbors."

"Consideration?" he laughs and it's a surprisingly nice sound, which only makes you angrier. "I've been living here for two weeks and haven't heard a peep from you. Figured you were a vampire or something."

"I'm a student," you say through gritted teeth. "And I need quiet to concentrate. Your morning music sessions and your evening movie marathons are making that impossible."

"Morning music?" he asks, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't play dumb," you say, stepping closer. "7:03 AM every morning. Without fail."

"Maybe you should learn to appreciate good music," he suggests, leaning against the doorframe in a way that shows off his lean frame.

"Maybe you should learn to use headphones," you shoot back. "Or, you know, consider that other people exist in the world besides you."

His smirk fades slightly, replaced by something else. Annoyance? Defensiveness?

"Look," he says, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm sorry if I'm being loud. I'll try to keep it down."

"Try?" you repeat, incredulous. "How about you just do it? It's not that complicated."

"Fine," he says, his jaw tightening. "I'll keep it down."

"Thank you," you say, turning to leave.

"Wait," he calls out, and you turn back, surprised. "What's your name?"

"Why?" you ask, suspicious. "So you can complain about the grumpy neighbor who actually expects peace and quiet?"

"Something like that," he admits with a wry smile. "I'm Gavin, by the way."

You hesitate for a moment before relenting. "Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he says and for a second, you almost believe him. "Sorry again about the noise."

You nod curtly and return to your apartment, the silence next door feeling like a victory. But as you sit down to resume your paper, you find yourself distracted, wondering about the guy in 4B with the messy hair and the surprising smile.

The next morning, you wake up to silence. No music, no bass thumping through your wall. You should be relieved, but instead, you feel… strange.

That evening, you come home to find a small note taped to your door. It's folded neatly, your name written on the outside in neat block letters. Curious, you unfold it.

"Sorry about being an ass yesterday. I'll try to be better. - G"

You read it twice, a strange feeling blooming in your chest.

That night as you're studying, you notice the silence next door. No television, no music, no furniture moving. It's peaceful, exactly what you wanted. But as the hours pass, you find yourself straining to hear something, anything.

At 11:30 PM, you give up on studying and head to bed, but sleep doesn't come. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. Finally, at midnight, you give in, pulling on a robe and slipping into the hallway.

You hesitate outside his door, your hand raised to knock. What are you doing? This is insane. You should be asleep, not standing outside your neighbor's door like some kind of creep.

Just as you're about to turn back, you hear a sound from inside. A soft thud, followed by a muffled curse. Without thinking, you knock.

The door opens almost immediately, revealing Gavin in a t-shirt and boxers, his hair even messier than before. He looks surprised to see you and then something else. Embarrassed?

"Y/N?" he asks, his voice rough. "Everything okay?"

"I heard a noise," you say, immediately feeling stupid. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Fine," he says, though he doesn't look fine. He looks… tired. Defeated. "Just dropped my phone."

You stand there awkwardly, neither of sure what to say. The silence stretches between you, broken only by the hum of the hallway lights.

"Do you… want to come in? For a minute?"

You hesitate, but something in his expression makes you nod. You follow him into the apartment where boxes are stacked against one wall.

"Sorry for the mess," he says, gesturing toward the boxes. "Haven't really had a chance to unpack."

"You just moved here?" you ask, surprised.

"Yeah," he says, dropping onto his couch. "Two weeks ago."

"To Toronto?"

He nods, his gaze fixed on the floor. "It's my first time living alone. I hate it."

The admission hangs in the air, unexpected and raw.

"The silence," he continues, his voice softer now. "I can't stand it. That's why the music is so loud in the morning and the TV at night. It makes it feel less… empty. Makes the voices in my head a little quieter."

You look at him, really look at him and see the exhaustion etched around his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.

"What kind of voices?" you ask gently.

"The usual," he says with a humorless laugh. "Expectations. Pressure. All the things I'm supposed to be, all the things I'm supposed to do. It's… a lot."

"What do you do?" you ask, realizing you know almost nothing about him.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward you before dropping back to the floor. "I play hockey."

"Hockey?" you repeat, surprised. "Like, professionally?"

He nods, his expression unreadable. "I just got drafted. By the Leafs."

Your eyes widen. The Toronto Maple Leafs. One of the most storied franchises in the NHL, a team that lives under a microscope, a team that carries the weight of an entire city's expectations.

"Oh," you say, because what else is there to say? "That's… a lot of pressure."

"You have no idea," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone expects so much. And I just don't know if I can be that person," he admits, his voice barely a whisper. He finally looks up at you, and the vulnerability in his eyes takes your breath away. "Some days, I don't even know who I am anymore, let alone who I'm supposed to be for them."

The weight of his confession settles in the room, pushing out the anger you arrived with.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, taking a step closer to the couch. "I didn't realize."

"Why would you?" he asks with a humorless laugh. "To you, I'm just the asshole next door who can't keep his music down."

"I mean, you are," you say, and a small smile tugs at his lips. "But I get it now. The noise… it's to drown everything else out."

He nods, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I've always had roommates. Teammates. Family. There's always been someone around. Now… it's just me. And the silence is so loud, you know? It gives too much space to all the doubts and fears."

You sit down on the armchair opposite him, tucking your legs under you. "What kind of fears?"

"That I'll fail," he says immediately, as if he's been waiting for someone to ask. "That I'm not good enough. That everyone who believed in me was wrong. That I'll let down the entire city of Toronto."

"That's a lot to put on one person's shoulders," you say gently. "Especially someone who's just starting out."

"Tell that to the media," he mutters, running a hand through his messy hair. "Tell that to the fans. Tell that to the guys in the locker room who are counting on me."

You study him for a moment, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"You know," you say, "you don't have to have it all figured out right now. Nobody does."

"Easy for you to say," he replies, though there's no bitterness in his tone.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I get a little of the pressure thing."

He looks at you then, really looks at you and something shifts between you. The wall of animosity you've both been hiding behind crumbles, revealing something else entirely.

"I really am sorry about the noise," he says again, his voice sincere. "I wasn't thinking about how it affected anyone else. I was just trying to survive."

"It's okay," you say, and you mean it. "But maybe next time, instead of blasting music at 7 AM, you could… I don't know, knock on my door? We could get coffee or something."

His eyes widen slightly and you can see the hope dawning there. "Yeah? You'd do that?"

"I mean, I can't promise I'll be pleasant before 8 AM," you warn and he actually laughs this time, a real laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "But yeah. I could do that."

"Okay," he says, his smile faltering slightly. "But what about tonight? The silence is… kind of getting to me again."

You hesitate for only a moment before making a decision. "I have an idea," you say, standing up. "Wait here."

You return to your apartment, grabbing your laptop and a pair of headphones before heading back to his place. He watches you curiously as you set up on his coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"You said you hate the silence," you reply, opening your laptop. "So we'll fill it. Together. I'll study, you can do… whatever it is hockey players do when they're not playing hockey. And we'll have some background noise that doesn't involve bass that shakes the walls."

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You'd do that? For me?"

"Don't make it weird," you say, though you're smiling now. "Consider it a peace offering. But if you start playing that god-awful morning music again, all bets are off."

"Deal," he says, his grin returning. "But you should know, my taste in music is excellent."

"We'll agree to disagree," you reply, settling in with your textbook. "Now, are you going to help me study or just sit there staring at me?"

"Staring sounds more appealing," he admits, but he grabs his phone anyway, settling back against the couch cushions.

The hours pass in comfortable silence, broken only by the turning of pages and occasional questions about your studies. When you finally look up from your book, you realize it's almost 2 AM.

"I should go," you say, closing your laptop. "I have an early class."

"Right," he says, standing up. "Thanks. For… well, for everything."

"No problem," you reply, heading for the door. "But I'm serious about the music. 7 AM is an unholy hour."

"Noted," he says with a grin. "Hey, what time is your class tomorrow?"

"8 AM," you reply. "Why?"

"Because," he says, his smile turning sheepish, "I was wondering if you wanted to grab that coffee. Before your class. If you're not too busy, that is."

You consider his offer, weighing the pros and cons.

"7:30," you say finally. "But if you're late, I'm leaving without you."

"7:30 it is," he agrees, his grin widening. "I'll even let you pick the music."

"Don't push your luck," you retort, but you're smiling as you close your door, leaning against it for a moment as your heart races.

[scelebrini]

could you please write more mack lactation kink but like… fluff hurt/comfort vibe though.

Like maybe mack is feeling like a baby or being insecure about enjoying it, so he tells reader he wants to stop and she agrees, but it gets super hard for him not to and he gets really sad about it and reader comforts him and lets him do it?

Sorry if thats confusing lol

MC71.||macklin celebrini.

fluff.

mack wanting to stop nursing.

“Baby,” Macklin said, playing nervously with his fingers as I looked up at him from the couch.

“Yes, love?” I replied gently.

He let out a heavy sigh before speaking. “Um, I think I should stop using your boob now, because I’m 20 now, and I’m not a baby.” He said, hesitating and biting down hard on his knuckles.

I nodded slowly. “Okay, you can stop.”

His face instantly went pale, and the familiar flush of his rosacea flared bright red across his cheeks. “O-okay, yeah… because it’s embarrassing,” he stammered, nodding stiffly.

I decided to just go along with it, keeping my voice soft. “Whatever you want, Mackie,” I smiled.

He shuffled over and sat beside me on the cushions. “Um, y-yeah,” he muttered, his eyes drifting to the television. He went quiet for a long moment, the only sound being the muted hum of the show, before he spoke up again in a small, miserable whisper. “I—uh—I didn’t want you to agree.”

He shoved his knuckle right back into his mouth, sucking on it softly with a whimper.

“Well, it’s up to you, my love. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don't want to,” I said, turning fully to look at him.

He nodded rapidly, his lower lip trembling. “Yes, but I don’t want to stop,” he pouted, tears welling up in his eyes.

I couldn't help the gentle giggle that escaped my lips. “Well, why would you say that you wanted to, then?” I asked, tilting my head.

He shrugged miserably, his shoulders hunching. “So I could feel strong… but I’m not strong. I’m a baby, and I don’t want to stop.”

With a soft sigh, I reached out and gently removed his wet, chewed-on knuckle from his mouth, wiping his damp chin with my thumb.

“Do you want some milky, sweet boy?” I asked softly.

At the question, a few stray tears spilled over his lashes, and he nodded eagerly. He practically launched himself forward, clinging to me desperately as he buried his face against my chest and latched on.

I wrapped my arms securely around him, pulling him flush against my body. “You’re such a big baby,” I murmured fondly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head and rubbing soothing circles into his back as he nursed softly and let out a contented sigh.

i know you guys love these hahah.

[scelebrini]

Hi, could you do one for will smith, where he has a breeding kink, and a reader who absolutely doesn't want kids/to get pregnant? Thank you!

WS2.||will smith.

smut.

will has a breeding kink.

“Oh, fuck... mmmguh,” Will moaned as he thrusted in and out of me. I gripped his back, scratching at his skin, acutely worried that he was going to cum soon—and I knew he wouldn't pull out.

Will loved cuming inside me, and I hated it. I didn’t want to get pregnant, and I honestly didn’t really want kids either. Condoms weren't really an option for him because he always complained that "it just wasn't the same."

“Baby... oh, ugh,” he moaned again. I nodded, looking up at him already knowing what was coming.

“Pull out,” I whispered urgently, tapping his shoulder. He just shook his head.

“Will, please pull out,” I whined, my voice cracking with rising panic. But instead of an answer, I got a soft whimper, followed immediately by the undeniable, heavy warmth of liquid filling me right up.

“Ugh... mmm... ugh,” he groaned, his entire body jolting with the aftershocks. I stayed completely still underneath him, numb with frustration.

A moment later, he pulled out, and I immediately pushed him off and got up, rushing to the bathroom to shower, desperately trying to clean everything out as fast as I could. When I finally walked back into the bedroom, towel-dried and tense, he looked up at me with a pathetic, practiced expression of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

I just nodded silently, pulling a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on. “Yeah, you never can,” I said, a bitter, humorless smile touching my lips as I grabbed my car keys from the dresser.

“Where are you going? I said I’m sorry,” he protested, scrambling up from the bed. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to stand right in front of him, staring him down.

“William, you know I don’t want kids, and you can't just refuse to use a condom and refuse to pull out. So I’m on my way to the pharmacy to buy a freaking Plan B,” I snapped.

He swallowed hard, looking chastised but panicked. “I’m coming with you.”

He grabbed his sneakers and jacket to follow me out the door, and I just let out a sharp, exhausted sigh, nodding because I was too tired to argue, yet entirely annoyed by the whole mess.

kinda different then what i normally write.

[scelebrini]

bringing Connor to go see the new spider man movie

CB98.||connor bedard.

fluff.

taking connor to see spider man.

I smiled warmly as Connor napped peacefully on my lap, our quiet evening on the couch undisturbed. With my free hand, I scrolled through my phone, carefully purchasing tickets to see the brand-new Spider-Man movie.

I knew how much he loved the franchise—he had been obsessed with Spider-Man ever since he was a little boy, collecting action figures and comics long before he was even old enough to read them properly.

It was around 7:00 PM, and the soft glow of the television illuminated the dim living room. I gently began rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, letting him wake up on his own terms.

“Connor,” I whispered softly, leaning down just a fraction.

He stirred, shifting against my legs and moving his cheek against my palm. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, and he let out a sleepy yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I have a surprise for you,” I said, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips.

He sat up slowly, leaning heavily against my side as I wrapped an arm around him to keep him steady. “Mhm?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“I got us tickets to go see Spider-Man. The showtime is at 8:00,” I smiled brightly.

His eyes widened slightly as the words registered, and a brilliant, sleepy smile broke across his face. “Really?” he asked, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

I nodded, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Really.”

Without warning, he threw his arms around me in a tight, affectionate hug, burying his face in my shoulder. I couldn't help but giggle at his sudden burst of energy, wrapping my arms around him in return.

“Yes, so let’s go get ready so we can get there in time,” I said, rubbing his back one last time before nudging him playfully.

Connor groaned good-naturedly, but stood up from the couch and stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a long breath to shake off the remnants of his nap. He quickly ran upstairs to change, throwing on his favorite red-and-blue Spider-Man sweater that he’d practically lived in for years.

As he walked out to the driveway and climbed into the passenger seat of the car, I couldn't help the fond smile spreading across my face.

“Oh, you’re so cute, Connor,” I teased, glancing over at him as I started the ignition.

He immediately flushed bright red, pulling the collar of his sweater up over his nose in mock embarrassment. “Stop,” he muttered, laughing quietly as he bucked his seatbelt and directed us off toward the theatre.

i haven’t watched the movie so i couldn’t really get in detail.

[scelebrini]

if i was with connor bedard,,, i would never hold his hand. i would grip onto those BICEPS because HOLY FUCK

CB98.||connor bedard.

fluff/mentions of smut.

bicep kink.

“Stopppp,” Connor said as my lips attached to his biceps for the fifth time today.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” I muttered, pulling away to trace the sharp outline of the veins running across the muscle.

“You’re going to mark me all up. I can’t be going out like that—the last bunch just faded,” he said softly, using his thumb to wipe a bit of saliva off his skin.

I nodded, slowly licking my lips as the muscle flexed for absolutely no reason at all, driving me half-crazy. I lifted my hand, dragging a nail lightly across his skin to follow the prominent path of the vascularity before my hand clamped down, gripping him and squeezing slightly.

“Baby, stop,” he murmured, gently moving my hand away.

I nodded, fully aware that this obsessive fixation I had developed with his arms was entirely unhealthy.

“I want them inside me. I honestly wish I could use them,” I sighed, staring dreamily at his arm.

Connor gave me a very strange look, tilting his head. “Do you have like a bicep kink or something?”

I shrugged, a flush creeping up my neck. “No—well, for you, maybe yes.” I nodded, already feeling my body gravitate back toward him like a magnet.

I rested my head against his arm for a moment before a sudden, chaotic idea popped into my head.

“Put me in a headlock,” I blurted out.

He stared at me like I had completely lost my mind. “Absolutely not. What the heck?” he said, instinctively pulling his arm away from me.

“Well, can I ride it then? Like a thigh?” I asked, completely serious, while he sat there trying to figure out the logistics of how that would even work.

“Never mind, I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” I mumbled, turning my face toward the TV in defeat.

“Connor,” I whispered a few minutes later.

He hummed, glancing down at me.

“Can I just, like, hold it while you flex every now and then?” I pleaded softly.

He let out a low laugh, finally giving in and agreeing. I immediately wrapped both hands around his bicep, a shiver running straight down my spine the second I felt the muscle harden and flex beneath my palms.

“I’m wet,” I admitted, my voice dropping to a mortified whisper.

honestly anon same i agree.

[bambilenny]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐔

macklin celebrini x f!reader

.✦ ݁˖ cw: reader is from boston, reader goes to bc, mentions of strippers ig, not proof read, drinking obvs, awkward macklin, very drunk macklin, based off of rolemodels song love i you

⤷ summary: your friends drag you to a bar, where you meet a very drunk Macklin.

you’d practically been dragged to this bar by your friend, you weren’t a big drinker. and yes, your friend knew that but did she care? no. she was attempting to find you a boyfriend.

you had been single for just over a year now, your ex boyfriend leaving you for some stupid girl he’d met at college, you acted like it didn’t bother you, but it definitely did. you didn’t understand why he had cheated on you, but you still blamed yourself.

your friends always hyped you up through the drought of sadness, getting you many bottles of wine and many tubs of ben and jerry’s. so them dragging you to a bar wasn’t their craziest idea, one time they suggested you should hook up with his dad, you definitely were not going to do that, even though it did cross your mind.

when you arrived at the bar, your friends eyes immediately started scanning the place for potential future boyfriends for you, while you just looked down at your heeled shoes awkwardly. you weren’t really sure what to do with your body, yes, you were a bit socially awkward, but you did atleast try to appear compelled.

you noticed a guy sitting at the bar next to some blonde haired guy who was yapping away while sipping a corona, you tried to take your eyes off of him before your friends picked up where your gaze was directed, but they noticed. “oh y/n! he’s so cute!” one of your friends said giddily, a grin on each of your friends faces. “cmon go up to him!” another shouted. you noticed the brunette boys gaze fall upon you, probably due to the fact your friends were yelling around you, he smiled lightly before turning back to his conversation with the boy next to him.

your face flushed with embarrassment, turning your head back down to your shoes. your friends continued to yell before you replied. “let me get a drink in me first.” you sigh, making your way over to the bar, your kitten heels clacking as you walked over. you go to the side furthest away from the boy and his blonde friend, you couldn’t face that embarrassment yet. not until you were atleast a bit tipsy.

its not as if you didnt want to approach the guy, its more about the fact you had 0 idea of what to say to him, you didnt ever do this. you usually would just hop on hinge and hope for the best. to be fair, thats probably the reason you’re still single. at least thats what your friends said.

you ended up just sipping a vodka cranberry, you were to busy watching the green eyed boy pound back more beer than he could probably handle, it made you chuckle and he noticed, he looked at you with a larger grin than before before getting up from his seat. wait where was he going?

“oh my gosh he’s coming over here!” your friend gleamed excitedly, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“uhm, hi!” the brunette boy said, his eyes falling onto you, you were sat on one of the sofas nearby the bar, your friends sat around you giggling slightly.

“hi!” you grinned.

“uhm, i just, i thought uh.” he stumbled over his words, the blonde boys who he was once sat with is now rolling his eyes with his head in his hands as he watches Macklin’s very embarrassing interaction with you. “i thought you were really uh, pretty, so i just uh i thought, i’d say hi.” you noticed the way his hands were shaking slightly as he spoke.

“thank you.” you smile. “maybe you should buy me a drink then?” you didn’t know where on earth this confidence had came from, you were never like this, but you could smell his nervousness, so you thought you’d push him a little. he nodded in response.

you both walked to the bar together, you turned to wink at your friends who were beaming with excitement.

“so, whats your name?” he asked as you both sat on the last few available bar stools, as far away as his friend as long as possible.

“y/n.” you smiled. “and you?”

“oh, i’m uh, i’m macklin.” he replied nervously. “what do you want to drink?”

“just a vodka cranberry please.” he nodded and turned to the bartender to order your drink before turning back to you.

“what do you do for work?” he asks.

“oh, im just finishing up my college degree. and you?”

“oh uh, same. where?”

“boston college.”

“oh!” he replied, his eyes looking at the floor.

“is that an issue?” you quirked your eyebrow.

“i uh, went, uhm i mean, i go to boston university.”

“are you lying about being in university, macklin?” you chuckled. he looked more nervous before he nodded. “so, whats do you do? you like a stripper or something?” you both laugh in unison, his eyes finding yours before replying.

“i play hockey.” you shrugged at that.

“i don’t know anything about that. why do you keep it a secret?”

“just, some girls try to get with guys for it i don’t know.” you quirked your brow again before your drink was served.

“whos that blonde guy who keeps looking over?” you ask as you sip your drink.

“oh, thats my teammate, Will Smith. he went to boston college too.” you looked confused. that doesn’t look like the will smith you know, you only knew the actor.

“for hockey im assuming?” Macklin nodded in reply.

“we both play for the sharks.”

“like…san jose? is that right?” he nodded nervously again. “my dad was a bruins fan, i don’t know anything except the bruins and i guess the sharks now.” you laugh.

“maybe you should come to a game.” he was getting more comfortable with you now, his hands had stopped shaking a while ago, and now he was in comfortable conversation with you.

“hm, you any good?” you chuckle.

“i’d say so.”

“what about your friend over there?”

“he’s good too.”

“well, my friends been eyeing him up all night.” you giggle, Macks eyes crinkled with laughter as you spoke.

“maybe we should set them up.” you both laugh to that, will looked confused, his brows furrowing in confusion. mack signalled him to come over.

“this is y/n.” Macklin introduced you as you waved happily, sipping your drink.

“im glad he finally spoke to you.” Will laughed, macklins face turning red in embarrassment.

“yeah, too nervous to speak to me Macky?” you teased, his face flushed a deep rosy red as you spoke.

“well im glad i did.”

“get a room!” Will yelled.

you both fell into comfortable conversation, mainly about your shared interests and hobbies. Mack was getting drunker as the night went on, to the point where his sentences struggled to become coherent.

“maybe we should get you a cab.” you suggested.

“i don’t want to go.”

“whys that Mack?”

“i wanna talk to you. you’re gonna like, forget about me.”

“no i wont. ill give you my number.”

he grinned at that, handing his phone to you, grinning as you type your number in. “lets get you a uber.”

“mkay.” he replies drunkenly.

you load up the uber app on your phone, ordering him and uber and also one for you and your friends who seemingly had found some guys to speak to.

“you’re so beautiful.” he said, his hands finding your cheek.

“well thank you Macklin.” you smile as his thumb ran over your lip. you kissed him on the cheek, his face turning a familiar rosy red.

your phone pinged to alert you that his uber was here, now it was to attempt to get him in said uber.

“okay Mack, time to go.” Will said, grabbing his arm, he shook his head, his hand clutching onto your forearm.

“dont wanna.”

“too bad Mack. up you get, cmon.” you say, he followed you in an instant, ignoring Will.

you all step outside, directing him into the uber. “bye pretty.” he said giggling drunkenly.

“goodbye Mack.” you smile as he finally gets into the uber, Will following behind him, shutting the door. Mack waved at you at least 5 times before they took off.

god were you glad that your friends brought you here.

— ᨳଓ .

: #| psst! wanna read more of my stuff? click here!

⤷ wanna join my taglist? click here!

🏷️: @smithlovn @engelsmoment @nuoctis @smittylovr @banan1ca @hermionesimp @mosseetrees @wherethezoes-at @yeaitsme03 @liliesbytheocean @sjujus @destinyg237

[scelebrini]

could you do like subby mack who come homes drunk and he just wants you but like make it fluff if you can! love your work 🤍

MC71.||macklin celebrini.

fluff.

macklin coming home drunk and clingy.

The doorbell rang sharply, piercing through the quiet of the night at around 1:00 AM. Groggily, I pushed the covers back, padded across the hardwood floor, and unlocked the front door. Standing on the porch were Will and Macklin, illuminated by the porch light.

“Oh, hi guys,” I smiled, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

Macklin immediately reached his arms out for me, a sleepy, affectionate grin spreading across his face.

Will chuckled, holding Macklin steady by the shoulder. “I brought your man back safe and sound. He might have drank a bit too much tonight, but I swear he’s in one piece.”

“Thank you so much, Will. I'll see you tomorrow—unless you want to crash in the guest room?” I offered, eyeing the late hour.

Will shook his head, offering a reassuring smile. “No, it’s okay, I'm completely sober and ready to head home. Have a good night!”

With a quick wave, he turned and headed down the steps. I shut the heavy front door and locked it behind him. Instantly, Macklin wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face and resting his head comfortably on my shoulder.

“Hi, love,” I whispered softly, gently rocking us side to side in the entryway. I smoothed my hand down his back, soothing the tension away.

“Help,” he mumbled against my collarbone, pulling back just enough to tug clumsily at the zipper of his jacket.

“I've got you,” I murmured, helping him shrug out of the jacket. I tossed it neatly over the back of the couch before guiding him down the hallway toward our bedroom.

As soon as we reached the edge of the mattress, Macklin slumped down, his eyelids heavy. “Baby, hug me. Don’t go,” he whined, catching my wrist as I bent down to untie his sneakers.

“I'm right here, look. I'm just taking your shoes off,” I coaxed, slipping his shoes off one by one, followed by his socks. I gave his tired feet a gentle rub.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, his whole body relaxing backward onto the comforter at the soothing touch.

I let out a soft giggle, standing up and heading over to the dresser. “Let’s get you changed out of these stiff clothes, please.”

Before I could even pull a drawer open, Macklin was stumbling up behind me like a lost puppy. “Wait for me,” he whined, instantly looping his arms securely around my waist, needing to keep physical contact at all costs.

I turned around in his embrace. “What would you like to sleep in tonight?”

He blinked slowly, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips. “I want to sleep in you,” he announced, puckering his lips earnestly.

I pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to his mouth while reaching into the drawer for a soft cotton hoodie and a pair of boxers. “As great as that sounds, we’re going to have to save that for another night, okay, bubs?” I gently guided him backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He nodded compliantly, letting me do the heavy lifting of peeling off his heavy jeans and pulling the comfortable hoodie over his head. Once he was dressed, he immediately scrambled under the covers—though he promptly claimed my side of the bed.

“I want to sleep here,” he declared, burrowing his face deep into my pillow. “It smells like you.”

I stood by the bedside, unable to suppress a fond smile. “Okay, baby, stay right there. I'm just going to turn off the hall light.”

I flipped the wall switch, plunging the room into darkness, and slipped into bed on his usual side.

Macklin immediately propped himself up on one elbow, pouting dramatically in the dim moonlight. “You're so far away.”

With a soft laugh, I opened my arms wide. “Come here, then.”

That was all the invitation he needed. He eagerly crawled right on top of me, settling his weight comfortably and tucking his face securely into the curve of my neck. His fingers found their way into my hair, gently tangling and untangling the strands as he played with them.

“Mmmm... I want a story,” he mumbled sleepily, his eyelids fluttering shut.

With a quiet smile, I began to weave a rambling, soothing tale, running my fingers through his hair until his breathing grew heavy and even, and he drifted off peacefully into a deep sleep.

be ready for a bunch of mack content.

[martinipanini]

i'll be fine // ws2 x reader

: ̗̀➛MARTI'S MEGA MASTERLIST* ༉‧₊˚✧

pairing: will smith x nurse!reader

summary: a slow night night at the e.r. suddenly takes a turn when your boyfriend shows up injured with a trainer at his side.

warning(s): fluff, the infamous pens v sharks game, the mention of dec 13..., single mentions of heart attack + cysts + periods.

a/n: y'all don't know how happy i am to have finished this. i'm EXHAUSTED, and this is severely not edited. i shall fix tomorrow. leave your requests in my inbox pls!

words: 915

my wing of the hospital was unusually slow tonight. 

there aren’t typically a huge amount of emergency room visits on a random weekday, but i feel like it’s never this slow. 

and maybe i’m awful for wishing that it was busier... but sue me. 

as a nurse, especially one that is specifically assigned to the e.r., i pretty much don’t have anything to do unless i’m tending to a patient, doing rounds, or helping a doctor tend to a patient. 

which i’ve already completed all my tasks. 

the head of our department has already sent some of the other nurses home, keeping them on call just in case. 

i try not to check the score of will’s games while i’m at work—partially because i get too invested and start forgetting about my responsibilities, and partially because i like to keep my stress at a minimum and worry about the results when i get off. 

apparently, the universe agrees that i shouldn’t go against my routine. 

as soon as my nhl app loads, the automatic doors to the entry of my section slide open. 

when i glance up, i expect to find yet another man claiming to have a heart attack while it’s really just indigestion. maybe even a tween brought in by her mother because she’s experiencing her first cramps and they believe it’s some sort of cyst. 

what i certainly don’t expect is to find my boyfriend, who is supposed to be finishing up a game versus the penguins, stumbling in with a stressed trainer at his side. 

i’m on my feet in an instant. 

shutting my personal feelings off immediately, the switch to a calm professional is scarily quick. 

i don’t remember walking over to will, standardized questions firing toward the trainer as we help him into a vacant room. 

will hasn’t said anything more than the pained groans escaping him. 

and i’m honestly thankful for it. 

if i heard his voice right now, combined with the way his face is wincing with every movement, i think i’d take a very unprofessional dive for the worst. 

the trainer helps me remove his shirt, helping me to further inspect the damage. 

i pause when i see it, bruising already beginning to form around his shifted shoulder. 

looking up at him, his eyes are already on mine. 

he knows that i’ve already come up with the diagnosis in my head. 

he also knows that i would never risk saying anything to a patient without a doctor confirming it first. 

will’s eyes flick toward the trainer, nodding subtly as if to tell me to dismiss him. 

i redirect my attention to the young trainer, smiling politely. 

“i think we’ve got it handled from here. thank you for bringing him in. we’ll send updates as soon as possible.” 

my voice is kind but leaving no room for argument. 

naturally, he hesitates before accpeting my answer. 

“i’ll be fine, biggsy,” will reassures, expression convincing. 

biggsy finally relaxes a fraction, crossing his arms as he nods. “okay... okay, yeah. just text me, yeah? coach will be waiting for an update.” 

will agrees to his terms, and that’s all it takes for him to leave the room. 

both of us watch him leave, eyes trailing him. 

my eyes are back on will as soon as the door clicks shut. 

my worry bubbles back up, professionalism dropping as my hands come up to gently cup his shoulder. “will...” 

clearly i wasn’t the only one who was putting on an act because his facade crumbles entirely. 

exhaustion seeps into his expression, and he rests his head back against his pillows. 

“baby, it’s-” pausing to let out a breath. his eyes regard me with a pained intensity. “i need you to tell it to me straight. what are we looking at? what’s recovery? anything.” 

his tone is borderline pleading, and my heart sinks at the knowledge that his head is currently spiraling. 

my lips thin into a line, reevalutaing softly, “it’s not looking like surgery, but it’s not exactly a quick recovery either.” 

i gently guide his arm up, and it doesn’t even make it above his nipples. 

“my best guess is a sling for a while. i’m pretty sure it’s just a dislocated shoulder, but the doctor will want to bring you back for some imaging in case there’s internal damage that we can’t see,” head tilting, glancing back at his face. 

there’s a moment of silence. 

“how are you feeling?” my voice quieter than usual. 

he sighs, “it hurts like a bitch.” 

my correction is immediate. 

“that’s not what i meant, will. how are you? what’s going on inside your head?” 

he shakes his head, non-injured arm crossing his body to grab my hand. there’s a soft squeeze, his eyes clenching shut. 

“i’m so scared.” 

a shaky escapes him, glassy eyes finding mine again. “i mean, i know this sounds dramatic, but i literally thought my arm got ripped off” 

i shake my head, placing my other hand around our enclosed hands. 

“that’s not dramatic at all, baby. of course you’d be shaken up after something unexpected happens during a game you’re so familiar with. i’m shaken up, and i don’t even know what happened yet.” 

breath hitching, his eyes slowly blink closed. “i’ll tell you when we go home. for now, i’m just happy you’re the one taking care of me.” 

and as stressful as this is, i’m happy to be the one taking care of him as well. 

[angelicbrini]

Hi! Love your writing💗 Can you please write a one night stand with Will where the reading slips out before Will wakes. Time passes since that night but Will knows one night wasn’t enough for him so he tries to find you. Add whatever you want to it, but make the one night stand fucking hot!

only you | ws²

pairing: will smith x fem!reader

in which: it was supposed to be a forgettable one night stand, which it was (to you). but will’s not satisfied with that, because he has this undeniable desire to make it something more.

wc: 3.7k

includes: NSFW. oral f!receiving, protected sex, praise kink, hair pulling, detailed makeout, smallest bit of angst, macklin featured, fluff, happy ending, title is only you, porthead.

You didn’t go out with the intent of ending up at some random guy’s house. That wasn’t your goal, nor was it something you specifically anticipated, but the opportunity kind of landed in your lap. You were sat at the bar, chewing on the plastic straw between your lips as you patiently waited for another drink.

Then a guy approached you out of nowhere, and normally you’d try to brush a stranger off or ignore him, but he was significantly attractive. He was pretty with blond hair that covered his forehead, red cheeks, and an unfortunately endearing smile that’s burned into your mind.

He told you his name—Will—then you told him yours, to which he complimented and mentioned that it suited you. Multiple drinks were bought, conversations were had, and now here you are—back pressed against the wall in his bedroom with your arms wrapped around his neck to steady yourself. His hand is on your thigh, holding you still while his other stays on your hip. You’ve been like this for a few minutes because he could barely get you through the front door without having his lips on yours.

Will needs to pull away and stop kissing you when he’s all pent-up. He’s just trying to restrain himself, and hold back because he’s fully aware that he’ll fuck you against this wall without hesitation.

He turns you around, brushing your hair away to have easier access to your neck. He leans in closer, dragging his lips against your skin. “I was watching you all night, you know?” He says, breathless, while his trembling fingers fumble around with the back zipper of your dress.

You laugh, hands splayed against the wall to keep yourself up. “I’m here now.”

His nose is tucked into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting while he tugs your dress down. You’re left in nothing but a matching underwear set—it’s black, lacy, and adorned with these pretty little flowers. It’s driving Will insane. You might kill him before he gets the chance to make you come.

You turn around, kissing him harder than before. His mouth is moving against yourself in perfect synchrony, tongue dragging across your bottom lip to open your mouth wider for him. He can taste the faint hint of alcohol. It’s sweet.

“Off— Will, take it…” you mumble against his lips. You’re eagerly fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying to tell him to take it off without explicitly saying it.

Will pulls away reluctantly, mostly because he can’t seem to live without having your lips on his. He reaches for the back of his collar, tugging it off in one swift motion. You drag your hands over his bare chest, feeling his muscles flex beneath your skin. It’s summer, so he’s got this pretty tan on his skin. His body is toned, to say the least, thick and muscular like an athlete should be.

He looks down at you, his hands still on your hips. “You’re impressed?” he questions.

You chew on your bottom lip, trying to hide the growing grin. “It’s not bad,” you say. You’re lying, obviously.

You settle at the head of his bed, Will chasing after you without thinking twive. He’s on top of you with his soft lips on your neck, sucking your sweet spot. “I’ve got you, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, breath hot. He pulls back until his face is flush against yours, blue eyes piercing through you.

You don’t have to beg for him to do anything. Will places a quick kiss on your lips, before he shifts down the bed, palming and kissing your body until he’s on his stomach with his head between your legs. He looks up at you, something between awe and disbelief plastered across his face. You just look so pretty, anticipating having his mouth on you. You just met him a couple hours ago, but it’s a sight he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget.

Will pulls on the waistband of your panties, snapping it back against your skin. “You look so pretty like this,” he compliments, staring up at you while his chin rests on your thigh. You flush while avoiding eye contact with him. His gaze is too strong.

You rake your fingers through his hair, watching his every move as he tugs your underwear down at a painfully slow pace. He wants to test the waters, see if you beg for him to speed up. You lift your hips, to which he takes as a sign to hurry until you’re left bare for him.

Will swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, hands hot on your skin as he parts your legs wider for him. He leans in closer to your heat, spitting on your folds before he uses his fingers to combine his saliva with your arousal. You don’t even want to think about what’s going on in Will’s mind, having a stranger be this wet and needy for him. He doesn’t seem to care. His eyes are dark, there’s barely any blue left.

“So fucking beautiful,” Will mumbles against your heat. He keeps his tongue flat on your clit before he latches his mouth around you, sucking harshly on your bundle of nerves.

You exhale, your grip on his hair tightening. It’s curly and soft between your fingers. “Holy shit, Will,” you gasp out. You try to close your legs instinctively around his head, but he’s quick to grab your thighs and force you to stay open for him.

His hands are on your hips to pin you against the bed, keeping you still for him so he can keep going without disruptions. He’s just met you, but he could probably do this for hours.

Will’s tongue is lapping at your wetness, these disgusting, slurping sounds filling the room and mixing with your quiet moans. He’s practically fucking you with his tongue, groaning into your heat when you pull on his blond waves.

You’re thrusting into his face, begging for more stimulation. “Will— I need…” You can’t form a full sentence, not when his tongue is pressed against your sensitive spot.

He pulls away slowly, revealing his flushed face and chin coated with your juices. His pink are stained with your slick. It’s disgustingly hot. “Need what? Tell me.”

You chew on your bottom lip, brushing his messy hair out of his face. “I need to feel you,” you tell him, partially shy.

Will knows exactly what you’re asking for. He scrambles around until he’s above you again, kissing you harder than before. You can taste yourself on his tongue. You’ve never let a man kiss you after anything like this; he’s just an exception.

Your mouth is still on Will’s as you fumble with the zipper of his jeans, while he’s fishing in his wallet for a condom. He knows he’s safe, and you’re on the pill. But it’s always better to take precaution, just in case.

You can see the outline of his cock through his boxers when you shuck his pants down slightly, the sight making your breath catch. You don’t want to fuel his ego, but you should’ve known what to expect with the way he’s been talking to you all night.

Not many words are exchanged when Will frees his cock, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slides it on, occasionally looking up at your and the stunned expression plastered across his face.

He returns to his original position, kissing you again, because he’ll allegedly die if he doesn’t. “Please, Will,” you beg against his lips, not saying anything else. You flush, embarrassed with how desperate you are to feel him.

“I know, I know,” Will whispers, one arm braced beside your head while his other hand holds his cock. He teases you at first, rubbing the tip against your folds, up and down, to collect your slick. He wants to hear you beg. It turns him off more than he’d like to admit.

You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his sculpted back as your way of telling him to hurry. He inches himself inside, little by little, until his pelvis is pressed against yours. Your loud sounds of pleasure fills the room as Will buries his face in the crook of his neck, mumbling words of praise while his other hand needs your breast through your bra.

“You’re perfect,” he mutters, his words only fueling the arousal pooling between you. “So good for me— fuck, perfect.” His words are all jumbled and messed up as he slams his hips against yours, completely ignoring the mess you’re both making.

It’s gross; his pre-cum mixing with your slick. You can feel every inch of him and it’s all you can focus on—his length, how he’s throbbing inside of you, and how amazing the stretch is. You’re clawing at his back, hard enough that you’ll leave marks and you’re scared you’ll draw blood. But it feels so good.

“Keep— Will, fuck. Keep going,” you manage, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as his pace picks up. He’s consistent with his thrusts, hips slamming against yours. You’ve never been this much of a mess before. You’re drooling while crying out for him to continue.

Will’s whimpering your name repeatedly into your neck, hard to hear over the sound of skin slapping and pornographic moans. You’re insane. He won’t be able to stop thinking about this no matter how hard he tries. It doesn’t feel real at all, like a once in a lifetime experience.

Your back arches, chest pressing against his. “Let go for me, c’mon,” Will mumbles when he realizes you’re close. He can’t believe it. He approached a pretty girl at a bar, and now he’s about to make her come.

It’s when he sucks on your neck and pushes his cock into you as deep as he can, when you clench around him, climaxing while broken sounds slip from your lips. Will fucks you through it, kissing your soft skin until he finishes, filling the condom with his cum. He doesn’t pull out immediately. He just stills, the both of you catching your breaths.

“Holy shit,” Will mumbles before sliding out of you reluctantly. He winces at the loss, only because he wishes he could’ve kept going for longer. He lands beside you while quiet breaths leave his lips.

You can feel the mess below you. “I’m— shit, sorry for that,” you apologize. You feel sore inside, while missing the full feeling you had moments ago. You didn’t expect your night to end like this, but you’re not complaining.

Will laughs, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He leans in, just to press a kiss on your cheek despite all the drool, which is oddly domestic for a one-night stand. “Never say sorry for something like that.”

You wake up with a redundant pounding in your head, and sunlight pouring through the window that makes you clamp your eyes closed immediately. It’s really bright and there’s a faint ringing in your ears. You already know this is a result of far too many drinks last night. You glance over at your phone, realizing the time. It’s ten AM. You’ve got work in a few hours, and you clearly need a lot of time to get ready with how frazzled your mind is.

When you try to force your exhausted body up, you can’t. There’s someone holding you down—a firm, warm arm wrapped around your torso with someone’s face tucked in the crook of your neck.

Right, you’re at Will’s apartment. You almost forgot, though the hockey equipment and jerseys littering the room would’ve been a big enough hint.

Your legs are tangled with each other’s, labored breaths filling your ears. You don’t want to wake Will up, because that comes with questions and this was just supposed to be a simple hook-up that you can both brush off.

You eventually get out of his hold, glancing over at Will. He’s pretty when he sleeps—his hair is all curly and frizzy, while he snores quietly with an open mouth. You’re looking at him, and a small part of you is telling you to wake him up, possibly for his number, and make this a consistent thing. But you don’t. You’re mature enough to know that this is just a one-night stand, that’ll eventually be a foggy memory in your mind.

You just pull his oversized shirt off of yourself, substituting it for your underwear and wrinkled dress sitting in the corner of the room. You know you look like a mess right now, but you’re not too bothered. As long as you can slip out unnoticed, you don’t care. You’ve got your own clothes on now. You do need to find your shoes though.

You shamelessly look around, a satisfied sound leaving your lips when you realize they’ve somehow ended up beneath the bed. You pick them up, holding your heels in one hand with your phone in the other.

Unfortunately, the sex was good, amazing even. Will had somehow managed to hold you like you were something fragile, while also fucking you relentlessly. It’s kind of frustrating to you that you know this is the first and last time hooking up with him. You give him one final look before you slip out of his room, hoping you’ll never run into him again.

When Will finally stirs awake after the events of last night, he’s confused at first. His arm isn’t wrapped around someone, the space next to him is empty, and the bane of his existence—also known as his best hook-up ever—is missing. At first, he can’t believe it. He blinks repeatedly; surely he’s dreaming and you haven’t actually left without saying anything to him.

He sits up, glancing around the room. Your clothes and shoes from last night aren’t on his floor anymore. His shirt that he gave you is discarded in the corner. He feels kind of nauseous as realization settles inside, because there’s no way you snuck out of his house.

Will shifts off the bed, a small pout on his lips. A part of him is extremely delusional and telling him that you’re in the kitchen, waiting for him to wake up. And it doesn’t help that it’s still early. Will hates getting up early when he has no training.

The pout is still on his lips when he walks out his bedroom and to the kitchen, pausing when he doesn’t see you. It’s just Macklin eating breakfast while sat at the island. He seems to spend more time at Will’s apartment than at the Thorntons.

“Did you see a girl leave?” Will’s quick to ask, looking around as if you’ll randomly appear. It’s early. He’s still exhausted and trying to adjust to the sunlight while multiple questions are floating around his head.

Mack looks up, his eyebrows pulling together while droplets of milk collect in the corner of his lips. He always eats his food in the messiest way possible. “Good morning to you too.” He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “And, no— wait, did you have a girl over?”

“You didn’t see anyone leave?” Will ignores his stupid question. He can’t even think straight.

“Dude, I just got here. Is this about that girl from the bar?”

Will buries his face in his hands. “Yes, Mack, and she’s fucking gone.” His words come out muffled. He feels like an idiot.

It’s been a week since Will last saw you, and it’s affecting him more than he’d like to admit. Now, he’s a hockey player and he adheres to the stereotype that they sleep with a lot of women. It’s not his proudest achievement, but he’s being honest. And Will’s had one-night stands with plenty of women, whom he was able to forget about right after.

However, now? It’s like the image of you and your words of praise are embedded into his mind, like he can’t get you out of his head no matter how hard he’s been trying. It’s frustrating; he’s supposed to be busy with training and bulking up for the upcoming season, not thinking about a woman he barely knows.

But alas, his attempts aren’t working. You’re all he can think about. He wants to shoot himself in the head with a nail gun repeatedly, do anything that’ll make him forget.

You slipped out of his apartment before he woke up, leaving him with questions he’ll probably never get the answer to. That’s most likely the main reason why you’re still a thought floating around his head. You just left, left him wanting more.

“Are you still going crazy over that girl?” Macklin asks him the next time they’re at the rink in San Jose. His voice is low. They’re training with a few other players—including Sam and Misa—which means they can’t talk too loud or they’ll be swarmed with questions.

Will nods his head as he holds his bottle to his mouth. spraying water into it. “Hard not to if you knew how amazing our— uhm, you know…”

Mack looks visibly disgusted; it’s evident even through his helmet. “I actually don’t want to know. Keep that to yourself, Smitty,” he tells him. “Fucking gross, dude.”

Will laughs, but in reality, not being able to see you again is slowly eating him alive. He never lets women affect him like this, never allows them to throw him off his game when he steps onto the ice. But you have; it’s like he’s become fixated.

“I think I remember where she works,” Will suddenly states, catching Macklin off-guard. “Like— at the bar we were talking, right? And she said she works at this place downtown.”

The two of you were involved in a conversation—before you ended up at his apartment—that lasted pretty long. You exchanged personal information that Will’s been struggling to remember because of the semi-drunk state you were both in. It’s taken him around a week to somewhat recite things that could’ve helped him find you earlier.

Mack frowns. “So, you’re planning on looking for a random girl you barely know? That’s real dedication, dude.”

It is dedication, and it’s making Will seem extremely desperate. But he’s not sure he’ll be able to function for the rest of his life if he doesn’t see you again. Yes, it’s that serious.

It’s a quiet day at work, thankfully. You’re in the back of the bookstore, tying your apron and fixing your hair before your shift. So far, your life has been fine, decent. You haven’t been thinking about a random blond man in San Jose, or a one-night stand with the guy in question. Maybe it would’ve been nice to say something before leaving, but that’s in the past now. You don’t care anymore.

Your friend peeks her head into the staff room. “Hey. there’s some guy asking for you,” she says.

Your eyebrows knit together. “Me?” You’re confused. Throughout the entire time you’ve worked here, no customer has ever asked to see you specifically. You walk out, still puzzled. However, your internal questions are cut short when you see a familiar face standing in between the shelves.

It’s Will. He’s got a baseball cap on his head, except it’s worn backwards—with his wings peeking out—which is probably the worst thing he could’ve done. He’s one of San Jose’s biggest stars. It’s not smart for him to be here, flaunting around without at least attempting to hide his identity. But you know him, at least a little bit. He doesn’t care.

“Fuck, Will. Are you serious?” You’re mad that he decided to show up here as if you didn’t purposely leave without saying goodbye. You take him by the wrist, leading him to a quieter part of the store where you hope your coworkers won’t be able to hear you.

You look so pretty and professional in your work attire. Your hair’s up today, secured with small pins, and nothing like what Will saw the last time you were together. You look nothing like the same girl who was moaning his name between ragged breaths while digging your nails into his back. His mind goes blank immediately.

“I needed to see you again,” Will murmurs, tilting his head as he looks down on you. “You forgot your manners and left without saying goodbye.”

You narrow your eyes at him and his audacity. It’s unfair that he looks extremely attractive right now—rosy cheeks, pink lips, and that annoyingly charming smile on his face. It’s sickening, truly.

“So you show up to my job? I’m going now.”

“Please.” He moves to the side so you can’t storm off. He’s looking at you with these puppy dog eyes, all big and desperate. There’s that familiar crease between his eyebrows and pout on his lips, because he thinks that’ll work on you again. It’s the exact same move he pulled up the night you met.

But you give in, to be expected. “What do you want?” you ask. You really don’t know why he’s here, though you do have the smallest idea.

“You,” Will says, simple. “I want you, and I want to take you out.”

You shake your head. It’s too much, too soon. You just wanted to fuck a stranger, and leave it at that. It’s not supposed to become this big thing. “No, Will…” you trail off. “It was supposed to be a one-night stand. You get that, right?”

“I know, but that’s not why I’m here. I just want to take you on a date. Seriously. I’ll pick you up, I’ll pay, I’ll drive you anywhere—” He’s just rambling now. Will’s never had a girl make him nervous before. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“Stop, Will,” you cut him off. “If I say yes, will you stop begging?” He makes a quiet, satisfied sound at that with a frantic head nod. “Fine, then. I’ll give you my number.”

He doesn’t even hesitate to ask, “And I’ll pick you up later, yeah?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to seem too happy by that. He was so devoted to seeing you again, which is something you’re not used to. You shove him in the chest lightly. “Mhm, and if you’re lucky…you might get a repeat of the other night.”

The bunny-toothed grin on his face is so big and stupid.

🐰 thank you anon <3 i love specific reqs so bad

[cattyb2]

cold blooded | macklin celebrini

Pairing: macklin celebrini x reader

Prompt: summer is one of the things you love the most as the smith family invite you to come for a few weeks every year. grace, your best friend since childhood, convinces you to come this year despite the other person going. the person you despise more than life. macklin celebrini

It’s true that you dislike many things, just like the next person. Traffic, the sound of styrofoam rubbing together, having to pee as soon as you get cozy in bed. You know, the normal things.

But there is one thing you loathe more than anything, one person who you would rather break every bone in your body before having to deal with.

Macklin Celebrini is the bane of your existence.

And the only thing that makes you able to get by, is knowing he hates you just as much as you do him.

Now, being Grace Smith’s best friend means having to deal with Macklin more than you’d care too. Especially when every summer Colleen insists on bringing the four of you to vacation for a few weeks in Boston.

“Gracie.” You groan into your phone, your head resting in your open palm as you listen to her.

“Please, Y/N, please. You guys will only cross paths in the house and even then we can totally do our own thing every day.” Grace begs you through the phone. “I miss my best friend.” She admits quieter than before.

And of course that gets you. Of course it does because you miss her more than anything. And, sometimes you do feel guilt about Grace and Will constantly having to get in the middle of you and Mack. But you couldn’t help it.

“I miss you too.” You say, sighing before you say, “Of course I’ll come.”

“Yay!” She yells, and you laugh at her excitement, and as she hangs up the phone, you close your eyes.

It’s just a few weeks, truly, how bad can he be?

—

Bad. The answer is pretty fucking bad.

The first morning you both were coexisting, Macklin had decided to hide your mug on the top most shelf in the kitchen. So, the next morning since Mack was the last to wake up, you made sure to use the last of the creamer, leaving out just a mug of black coffee with the note, for your black heart under it.

Th next afternoon as you go to shower, you find your brand new shampoo bottle completely empty.

“Fucker.” You exclaim, using Grace’s shampoo instead. You storm out of the bathroom, not even bothering to dry off all the way. As you storm downstairs your tube top rubs and gets stuck to your damp skin, causing more irritation to gather in your bones. The cool air of the afternoon hits you as slide open the door that goes to the backyard.

“Celebrini!” You yell, and Will freezes as he sees you walking towards them. But Mack doesn’t even bother to turn around, so you do the only sensible thing you can think of. You chuck the empty bottle at his back. The shampoo bottle makes a loud thunk as it hits him in the shoulder, and the look on his face as he whips around is priceless. Grace and Will both cover their mouths in shock as they watch Mack take a few steps towards you.

“You did not just throw that at me, because I know, I know you’d have a better arm than that, wouldn’t you princess?” He snarks, and you just scoff and shake your head.

“Buy me a new one, or the next thing I chuck is going towards your head. I’m not fucking around Celebrini.”

Even though, surprisingly enough, a new bottle appeared the very next day, you decided that wasn’t enough. So you sneak into his room while him and Will are outside, and cut the toes off of all of his socks. Why this was what you chose to do, you have no clue. But man, did it really piss Mack off.

“What are you five?!?” Mack exclaims, coming down to the dock that you and Grace are tanning on.

“Do you hear something?” You ask Grace, and she giggles only slightly before removing herself from the line of fire.

“I’m fucking talking to you.” Mack says, and you just continue to lay on the dock, acting like it’s not annoying to have his stupidly large body blocking the sun from your skin.

“How’s that saying go?” You ask, finally giving him the time of day and leaning up on your elbows. Tilting your sunglasses down just enough to look into his eyes. “Oh yeah, an eye for an eye.” You say.

“You think you’re funny? Acting like a spoiled brat everytime something happens that you don’t like?”

“I think I’m fucking hilarious, actually.”

“Well.” Mack says, scoffing slightly. “Let’s see how funny you find this.” He says, and before you know it, Mack’s hands are on your bare skin, and he’s chucking you into the lake.

“Mack!” You hear Grace exclaim before the water swallows you.

Wha happens next, you truly don’t mean to do. But you were caught so off guard that where you ended up resurfacing wasn’t where Macklin had thrown you. So as your head comes back up and you wipe the water from your face. You hear your best friend’s concerned voice.

“Mack!” She says, nervous because they must believe you’re still under the water.

“Fuck.” You hear Macklin exclaim, and for the first time you actually think he might be concerned for you. Then, you hear his shirt hit the dock, followed by the sound of a body diving into the water.

Was Macklin Celebrini… trying to rescue you?

You make it known at that moment to Grace that you’re alive. You climb the side rail, and the movement of your body causes hers to relax as she rushes to you.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” She exclaims, hugging you. “I thought you were under there or hit your head or something.”

“I’m fine.” You say, your eyes moving to where Macklin dived in. “Did he-“ You were going to ask but then you see him come back up, and the panic on his face is something you’ve never seen before. You actually almost feel bad for him.

But his wild eyes move, and as they see you, relief and anger flood him. He scoffs as he too swims for the ladder, pulling himself back on the deck.

“I can’t believe you threw me in the water.” You say to him, your hands planting themselves on your hips.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He says in return, his finger pointing at you with each word, really trying to drive his point across.

How the hell was he so mad when he was the one who threw you in?

“You threw me in!” You exclaim.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a spoiled princess I wouldn’t have!” He yells back.

“Alright, alright!” Grace says, stepping between you two. “Let’s just all relax, please.”

But Mack rubs his face and stalks off, leaving you and Grace to stand on the dock, confused more than anything about the sudden outburst.

Naturally, because he thinks you have wronged him on the dock, Mack retaliates. When you all get dinner ordered he purposely puts extra spice in your food, making it almost impossible to eat.

You then post an embarrassing picture of him, and in return he pulls the bookmark out of your book.

But finally things simmer down as Colleen asks the three of you to help Grace with moving. Your best friend is still staying in Boston, but she found a beautiful apartment that is just waiting to be filled with life.

So the next day, the four of you drive over to her old place, boxes stacked in nearly every room as Grace and Will’s dad drive a truck back and forth, bringing box after box load from the old place to the new one.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Grace, noticing how her face is scrunched as she looks to the last round of boxes.

“There should be two more from the bathroom, I didn’t see them at all.” She states, eyes still scanning.

“I’ll go look, I’m sure we just forgot to bring them down.”

“Mack go help her!” Colleen exclaims, obviously thinking nothing of shoving the two of you together. Because after all, neither of you would ever deny Colleen of what she asked for. So without saying a word, you both walk silently back inside the apartment building, clicking on the button for her floor.

“I could have gotten them myself.” You finally say, tapping your foot against the floor of the elevator.

“Yeah, and watch you hurt yourself just so you can blame me? No thanks.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m the unreasonable one.” Mack says with an eye roll.

“Can we just love through five minutes of moving boxes where we aren’t at each other’s throats?”

“Say please.” Mack says, and you whip your head to stare at him.

“What?”

“You heard me, princess.” He smirks as he puts emphasis on the nickname he knows you despise. “Say.” He repeats, putting a space between his words. “Please.”

“Over my dead body.” You snarl, leaving the elevator as soon as the doors open.

—

Grace was right, there are two boxes that somehow got left behind in the move. As Mack carries them out, you recheck each room, making sure that there is nothing left behind this time.

You’re both silent as you re enter the elevator. Both boxes stacked in the corner as Mack presses the button to go back to the lobby.

Neither of you speak, the tense silence driving you insane. But for the first time since meeting him, Macklin Celebrini is no longer your biggest issue. Not as the elevator comes to a grinding stop, and the lights flicker a few times.

Your eyes immediately shoot to him, a little wide, just like his are. He steps forward, pressing the lobby button a few times.

“That’s clearly not going to work.” You say, rolling your eyes as he continues clicking away.

“Well what do you suggest, princess?” He says, his tone mocking you.

“Oh I don’t know captain chaos, maybe the call button?”

Mack gives you a dirty look before pressing the red button. You both wait a moment in silence before a woman’s voice enters the elevator.

“Hey, we’re stuck in here, none of the buttons are working.” Macklin says, rubbing at the stubble that’s growing along his jaw.

“Oh yes, I’m so sorry.” Her kind voice says. “We seem to have a mechanical issue. I assure you that you’re safe, and we have connected with some technicians and they are on their way as we speak!”

“How long do you think that will be?” You ask, anxiously hoping she doesn’t tell you very long.

“You should be out within a few hours.” The woman responds, and you and Mack both freeze in place.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and you can tell he’s trying to remain polite with the woman. “Did you say two hours?”

“Yes sir.” She confirms.

“Okay.” You say, squinting your eyes shut. “Okay, thank you very much.” You say, before the call disconnects and you’re both plunged into an uncomfortable silence.

You go to pull your phone out, the top of it reading SOS. Despite knowing that probably won’t change, you hold your phone up anyway, trying to get anything.

“That’s not going to work. In case you haven’t realized, we’re stuck inside a metal box.”

Your shoulder go stiff at his words, but you keep trying.

“Y/N.” Mack states.

“What?” You ask, still trying.

“You’re not going to get anything.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” You retort.

“Then why do you keep trying?”

“Macklin.”

“I’m just saying.” He says, holding up his hands.

“You’re always just saying, that’s kind of the problem with you.” You say, your words having a bite to them that they’ve never had before. Because now, now you would never admit it but fear crawls down your spine.

“And there it is.” He says, shaking his head and slamming his hands down to his thighs.

“What?” You ask, walls instantly going up at his tone.

“The fucking attitude!” He exclaims, eyes wild like he doesn’t understand how you don’t see it.

“My attitude?” You ask, like you can’t believe he’s the one with the problem.

“Yes.” Mack snips back.

“You’re the one who provokes me every fucking chance he gets. You’re the one who took one look at me TWO YEARS AGO, and decided I was no better than the gum on the bottom of your shoe!” You shout.

“Maybe because that’s the only way you’ll look at me!”

You didn’t realize both of you were yelling until those words cause you to freeze, and the silence makes your skin crawl.

“Who cares about how I look at you?” You say, your body now turned fully to his. “It’s not like you give a damn about me outside of trying to make my life hell.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot I was supposed to worship the ground you walk on just like everyone else does.”

“You’re so fucking delusional, Mack!”

The insult causes him to also turn to face you, anger simmering in his eyes.

“I’m delusional?” He says, cocking his head back like you struck him. “Hmm let’s see princess.” He says, taking another step closer. “Am I so delusional that I missed the signs last Fourth of July when that guy was being a total creep to you? Was I being delusional when he was actively trying to slip something in your drink? Was I fucking delusional when I stayed by you for the rest of the evening?”

“You only did that because if you didn’t intervene Will would have never forgiven you. You did it for yourself, Macklin. You wouldn’t have cared what that guy would have done to me.” You spit, even though you know the words aren’t the truth. You remember the genuine concern, the genuine care he gave you that night. You remember how he let you cry without making a comment, how he gave you water only from closed water bottles just in case. And you see as your words land. See the pain that flashes across his eyes.

But he can’t get another word out before the light flicker above you, and the elevator drops suddenly.

“Fuck!” You scream, and you reach out for the only comfort this elevator has. Macklin. He too also reaches for you. His fingers wrap themselves in the belt loop of your denim shorts, the other hand on your back, pressing you against him. Your hands too are places you’ve only ever imagined seeing them. One grips his bicep, the muscle feeling hard and unyielding under your touch. Your other hand grips the center of his shirt, the fabric getting white knuckled in your grasp.

“Are you okay?” He asks as the elevator comes to a stop, and the concern makes you want to pull away and make sure he hasn’t been body snatched.

“Yeah.” You say, your voice shaking slightly. “Did she not tell us we were safe?”

“I’m really doubting her at the moment.” Mack states, but both of you stay locked against each other. Neither of you wanting to leave the comfort of the other.

And like you needed the extra comfort, your hand grips tighter on his shirt. Macklin’s eyes travel down to your fist, then back to your face. He stares at your eyes for a moment, before you watch as he moves his gaze down to your lips.

You stay still, even though your brain is screaming at you to shove him away. And just when you’re shown a little genuine concern from him, he falls back into his normal ways.

“You know.” Macklin starts, his cocky face returning. “If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Celebrini!” You snap, but for whatever reason you do not let him go. And Mack noticed something that wasn’t there. The usual bite to your words was gone, in its place was a breathlessness he’s never heard from you before.

“Last time I checked you’re still holding onto me.”

“You’re still holding me too, asshole.” You state.

“You stare at me a lot for someone who swears she hates me.”

“You talk a lot for someone I wish would just shut up.”

“Make me.” He says with a smirk, and he smiles even more as his eyes light up with a fire.

“Fuck you.” You say, still missing your normal bite.

“That’s not what I suggested, but I will if you ask me really really nicely.”

Your eyes go wide at his words, and you unleash his shirt from your grip. Using your now free hand to go and shove at his chest. Only, Mack catches your wrist before you can make contact.

The look he gives you is pure predatory, and on instinct you find yourself backing up a step. But Mack takes a step forward each time as well. And soon, you find yourself pressing up against the mirror that is the wall of the elevator.

“Were you going to hit me?” He asks, his eyes scanning your features. You swear the elevator heats up, and every breath you manage to suck down is thick and charged.

“I was going to shove you.” You growl, finally finding a bit of your normal self under all this tension.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he lets go of your wrist. “Go ahead then.” He states, but he drops his lips to your ear as he whispers, “I might like it.”

Heat rolls through you immediately. And to hide the shiver that shakes down your spine, you shove hard against his chest. But he doesn’t move, hell, he doesn’t even flinch at the hit. He only smirks, his eyes lighting with the continued challenge.

You try again, but Mack catches your wrist once more. You feel anger rise in you as you see the amusement in his eyes, how this is just some game to him. But then his eyes catch near your mouth. In all of this, a piece of your hair has stuck itself to your lips, and Macklin drags a finger up to brush it away.

“I don’t ever, want you to touch me.” You say still breathless.

“Say it like you mean it, princess.” He challenges, and you feed right into it as you try to shove him again. But he easily catches your other wrist, holding them both in one of his hands. He locks them behind your back, and for a second, instead of kicking or screaming, your knee jerk reaction is to whimper.

“You don’t know anything about what I want.” You say, your voice shaking, and you’re praying he won’t notice.

Mack releases your wrists at your words, but instead of feeling relief, you feel disappointment. And the hatred that follows that is enough to shock you.

But, you figure out he drops your wrists only to land his hands on your waist. Your breathing stops, and he waits. Giving you all the time in the world to move away, to push him back, to hit him, to scream at him. But you do none of those things, and Mack knows then and there that he’s won.

He turns you then, and for the first time you get a good look at yourself since being in this elevator.

Your hair is slightly frizzy and messy from the heat and the labor, but it’s your pink cheeks that you look at, it’s the way your chest rises and falls faster than normal, it’s the way that your lips are parted.

And then there’s Mack. Mack, who’s standing right behind you. Mack, whose body is pressed against you so tightly that you can feel every ridge and muscle he has. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, and you watch as one hand travels from your waist to your chin, holding your head straight so you have to look at the reflection of the two of you.

The look on his face has your stomach clenching, and you catalog his eyes as they stare into yours. Mack lowers his head once again, tuckering hair behind your ear as he whispers into it, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Go ahead, lie to me again.”

You open your mouth more to tell him to stop touching you, but the words don’t come out. In fact nothing comes out as you stay locked on his gaze.

“Come on, princess.” He urges you on, and yet, you can’t say the words.

“I-“ You start, but you can’t finish the sentence.

Mack chuckles darkly, and his thumb comes up to swipe slowly against your bottom lip. Your eyes close even more at the sensation, so much so that you can barely see yourself in the mirror anymore.

“I bet you think about this a lot, don’t you?” He asks, his eyes refusing to look anywhere but at your reflection. “I bet at night, when it’s just you, you just can’t help yourself.” He says, teasing you, implying the one thing you have never told another soul.

“Why don’t you go find one of your other girls to play with.” You spit at him.

“I don’t have other girls.” He states. “It’s just you.”

The confession makes your eyes open more, and although Mack is Mack, you can tell he’s not lying to you.

“Macklin.” You say, but you can no longer control yourself. You flip back around, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you kiss him.

He groans instantly, both of you way past the point of trying to be gentle, trying to be sweet. You pour tears of hatred, years of teasing and frustration into it. You’re on the edge, he’s past his breaking point, so you kiss him so hard you lose track of everything else.

Your hands instantly go to his hair, and his travel all over your body like he can’t possibly not touch you absolutely everywhere.

His tongue lips at your bottom lip, and you whimper so softly you think maybe he’ll miss it. But he doesn’t, he only kisses you deeper, harder, your body completely at his whim. His thigh goes in between yours, and it takes everything in you not to grind down on it.

“If I wasn’t such a gentleman.” Mack says, pulling away from your lips with panting breaths. “I would take you right here in this elevator.”

“Strong words for someone who still hates me.” You say, but the dig makes Macklin flinch, like he’s surprised after all of this that you still think it’s hatred he feels towards you.

“Hey.” He says, pulling away as he looks into your eyes. “I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

You scoff, looking down to his thigh. It’s still slotted between yours, the muscles in it pulsing, like it’s begging you to move on it. But what are you supposed to say back to him? How can you sum up the emotions you feel everytime you look at him? How can you go from hatred to lust in a blink of an eye?

“If you fuck me.” You say, grabbing whatever confidence you can muster and staring into those green eyes. “I want you to fuck me like you do.”

And because God has some sense of humor, the elevator shifts under your feet as soon as you say the words. The buttons lighting back up, and a whirring sound happens as you guys descend to the lobby.

“Come to Vancouver.” He says suddenly, still bracketing your body with his.

You don’t have much time to think, because the floor shines at 3, then at 2.

“Buy me a ticket.” You whisper, kissing him quickly before shoving him off of you.

“Still a princess.” He says with a scoff, but it was a scoff of disbelief, dare you say, a scoff of excitement?

As the elevator doors open on the lobby the entire Smith family is anxiously waiting, along with several workers and technicians.

Grace hugs you immediately, apologizing a million times because if she hadn’t forgotten the boxes you wouldn’t have gotten stuck.

“It’s alright Gracie.” You say into her shoulder. “I think that was exactly what I needed.”

[smithusiast]

𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 → 𝐰.𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡²

pairing: bf!will smith x gf!reader

wc: 1.5k

note: super short but just wanted to put something out for you all <3

will knew you better than anyone, he was confident in that. so that’s how he knew something was wrong before you even showed up.

your texts had been off all week, shorter and dry as each day passed. at first he thought you were busy but then he began picking up on the small things you always added that weren’t there anymore like the random emojis and the extra ‘i miss yous’ and the way you would ramble about your day.

he didn’t push too hard but just checked in to let you know he was there but it sat heavy in his chest anyway because he knew something was up.

so when you said you were still coming over for your movie night, he was surprised — will was convinced you would’ve canceled but he was glad you didn’t because if he knew one thing about you, you couldn’t keep anything from him for that long. sooner or later he would know what’s wrong.

-

by the time you got to his place, you were exhausted to the brim. work had drained you both physically and mentally. your head was pounding and everything from the past week felt like it was pressing down on your chest all at once but you didn’t want to cancel. you didn’t want will worrying more than he already probably was.

so instead, you put on your best ‘im fine’ face before knocking and as if will was waiting, the door swung open.

“hey.” he says softly, his eyes were locked on you scanning and reading everything you were trying to hide.

you forced a small smile. “hi.”

will steps aside to let you in, but his hand brushed your arm as you passed, lingering for just a bit longer than usual.

“long day?”

“mmm yeah. just work stuff,” you shrug, kicking off your shoes like it was nothing.

will hums, unconvinced but doesn’t push at least not yet. instead, he nods toward the hallway. “y’wanna freshen up? shower maybe?”

you pause, he always remembered that. how showers helped you reset after bad days, the warmth made everything feel just a little quieter.

you nod, “yeah, yeah that actually sounds nice.”

“go ahead.” will murmurs, already turning towards his room. “i’ll grab you something comfy to throw on.”

the shower helped, at least a little bit. the hot water eased some of the tension in your shoulders, gave you a few minutes where you didn’t have to think but the second you turned it off, everything came rushing back.

you stared at yourself in the mirror for a second, eyes glassy, chest too heavy for your liking. you huff, taking a deep breath trying to settle your nerves.

by the time you stepped out, dressed in one of will’s oversized team hoodies and a pair of your shorts, you had your mask back on.

or at least, you thought you did.

will was laying on his bed when you walk in, scrolling on his phone, one arm tucked behind his head. he looked comfortable and cozy and you wanted nothing more than just to lay beside him as he held you in his arms.

his eyes flicked up the second he heard you, and just like that, his phone was forgotten.

“hey bubs.”

you don’t say anything. you just walk over and without second thought, climb onto the bed and flop down on top of him, burying your face into his chest.

it knocks the breath out of will for just a second — not because of the impact, but because of what it meant. his arms wrap around you tightly without hesitation.

“hey, hey.” he whispers, one hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mumble into his hoodie, your voice muffled.

he exhales slowly, shaking his head. “alright, but it doesn’t feel like nothing.”

you shook your head against him, tightening your grip on his hoodie. “i’m okay. i just— i missed you.”

it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

wills hand continues to run through your hair and down your back. “you don’t have to be all tough with me, you know that, right?”

you don’t answer, you just press your body closer against his. for a bit , it was quiet. just his heartbeat under your ear and then he feels it.

“hey, you’re shaking.”

“m’not”

will shifts slightly beneath you. “baby.”

you squeeze your eyes shut at his tone. he knew something was up now, there’s no hiding it from him.

“don’t— please don’t—”

your voice cracks and that was it. that’s all will needed to hear to know you weren’t okay. that he wasn’t in his head about you not being okay.

“baby, look at me.” will murmurs, one hand sliding from your back to your jaw trying to guide your face up. you resist right away, pressing your face harder into his chest.

“no. no, i’m fine.”

“you’re not fine, and that’s okay. just— just lemme see you.”

“i don’t want you to,”

his thumb brushes along your jaw. “and why not?”

“because i’ll cry.”

“then cry baby, you don’t have to hide that from me.”

you don’t move, you keep your face buried against his chest and will is convinced that you’ll keep the ‘i’m fine’ act up but then your shoulders shake again harder this time.

his fingers reach down as he tilts your chin up and you let him this time and that was all it took. the moment your eyes locked with his worried blue ones you broke. a sob caught in your throat and suddenly the tears were falling.

“hey— hey, it’s okay. you’re okay.” will comforts, sitting up a little so he could pull you fully into his arms. “i’ve got you now, i got you.”

you buried your face in his shoulder this time, crying properly now. everything you’ve been holding in all week finally pouring out.

“i’m sorry,” you choked. “i didn’t wanna— i didn’t want to ruin tonight.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” will says firmly, pulling you closer pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “not even a little bit.“

“you being here, that’s all i care about, okay?”

you sniffle, clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping you steady.

“it’s just been a lot, everything at once and i just— i didn’t wanna worry you more and—”

“-hey,” he cut in gently, pulling back just enough to look at you again, wiping under your eyes with his thumb. “you don’t have to protect me from you.”

“i want to know when you’re not okay. i want you to come here and fall apart if you need to. that’s not a burden, alright? that’s me getting to be here for you.”

“i just don’t want you to see me like this,” you mumble, looking down at your hands. will shakes his head, a small almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.

“i wanna be there for you, whether you like it or not.”

“even when i look like a mess?”

“you’re a pretty crier if that makes you feel better.”

you let out a watery laugh, lightly smacking his shoulder causing him to grin up at you.his hand came up to cup your cheek, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“you don’t have to be okay all the time. not with me.”

you lean into his touch, placing a kiss against his palm.

“just stay?”

will smiles down at you, “always,”

he pulls you back down against him, one arm wrapped tight around your shoulders, the other tracing slow, soothing patterns along your back. your breathing was still uneven, little hiccups of tears breaking through.

“you can tell me about it later,” he murmurs into your hair. “or not at all. we can just lay here.”

you nod against him, sighing before pressing your face against his neck. “i love you.”

“i love you too angel, anything else y’need?”

“just— hold me for a bit please?”

will tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“as long as you need.”

[hockeylovers-stuff]

Please please please do some more Connor ficsss 💕 brothers best friend or enemies to lovers

Offside - Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x Minten!reader

summary: As Fraser's younger sister, his best friend Connor has always been off-limits. Until he wasn't anymore.

CW: Angst, forbidden romance, jealousy.

The living room is a disaster zone of controller cords and empty snack bags. Fraser and Connor are sprawled on the couch, their eyes glued to the screen where some hockey players are having a far more intense game than the one on TV right now.

You’re perched on the armchair, pretending to scroll through your phone, but really, you’re watching Connor.

It’s a habit you’ve developed, a secret, dangerous hobby.

He’s focused, his brow furrowed in concentration, a stray curl falling over his forehead. He curses under his breath when Fraser scores, a low, frustrated sound that makes your stomach clench. Fraser just laughs, shoving him playfully. “Sucks to suck, Bedsy.”

“Shut up, Minten,” Connor shoots back, but there’s no real heat in it. He glances over at you, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of his eyes and a small smile plays on his lips.

It’s for you. You know it is. It’s a secret language only the two of you speak, a silent conversation happening in the space between breaths.

Fraser, oblivious, pauses the game. “I’m starving. You want anything, Con?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Connor says, his gaze still lingering on you for a second too long.

“Y/N?” Fraser asks, turning to you.

“Not hungry,” you say, even though your stomach is growling. You can’t eat. You feel too wired, too aware of the boy sitting just a few feet away.

Fraser shrugs, heaving himself off the couch. “More for me, then.” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Connor in a silence that suddenly feels thick, heavy with all the things you can’t say.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice softer than it was a moment ago.

“Just tired,” you lie, setting your phone down. “Long day at school.”

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

“Nothing exciting,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Just the usual.”

He nods, his eyes searching yours. You can see the questions there, the curiosity. He wants to know you, the real you, not just Fraser’s little sister.

It’s a terrifying and exhilarating thought.

Fraser comes back in, a bag of chips in hand and the moment is broken. The game resumes, but the tension remains, a low hum under the surface of their playful banter.

You catch Connor looking at you again and this time, you hold his gaze. For a split second, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you, suspended in a forbidden moment. Then Fraser clears his throat, loud and pointed, Connor looks away, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

A few days later, you’re at a party, talking to a guy from your history class, someone nice and safe and completely uninteresting. You can feel Connor’s eyes on you from across the room, a heavy, possessive weight. You see him leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, his jaw tight.

He looks jealous.

The thought sends a thrill through you.

The guy you’re talking to says something funny and you laugh, a little too loud, a little too bright. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Connor push off the wall and start walking towards you. Your heart hammers against your ribs.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He ignores the other guy, his eyes fixed on you. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, sure,” you say, turning to the other guy. “Excuse me.”

Connor leads you away, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, a touch that burns through your shirt. He pulls you into a quiet corner, away from the noise and the crowd.

“What was that?” he asks, his voice tight.

“What was what?” you play dumb, even though you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Him,” he says, his eyes flashing. “The history guy.”

“What about him?” you challenge, crossing your arms. “We were just talking.”

“It didn’t look like just talking,” he says, taking a step closer, invading your space. “It looked like he was about to ask you out.”

“And what if he was?” you say, your voice rising. “It’s none of your business, Connor.”

He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I know,” he says, his voice dropping. “I know it’s not. But I just… I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it?” you repeat, a bitter laugh escaping you. “You don’t get to have an opinion, Connor. You’re my brother’s best friend. That’s it.”

“Is that really all I am?” he asks, his eyes pleading. He looks so vulnerable, so raw and it takes all your strength not to reach out and touch him.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, the fight draining out of you. “I can’t… we can’t.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I know.”

He looks so defeated and you hate it. You hate that you’re the one making him look this way. You hate that you can’t just give in to the overwhelming feelings that have been building between you for months.

“Connor…” you start, but you don’t know what to say.

“It’s okay,” he says, forcing a smile. “I get it.”

He walks away, leaving you alone in the corner, your heart aching. You watch him go, a part of you wanting to call him back, to tell him that you don’t care about the rules, that you want him, consequences be damned. But you don’t. You just stand there and you wonder how much longer you can keep pretending that you don’t feel anything at all.

[bnwrittes]

Dont be a brat

SUMMARY: A pre-period, very horny evening that starts with you alone upstairs and ends with loud, intense sex with Mikko on the couch , complete with bratty attitude, rough fucking, and a much softer, careful finish.

WARNINGS: Explicit adult sexual content (18+), masturbation, premenstrual sensitivity and heightened arousal, overstimulation

Requested: Mikko Rantanen + You ride him slowly. He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your ass and hips, guiding you and groaning with every bounce.

You’d been restless all evening. That familiar pre-period heat had settled low in your belly hours ago, making every brush of fabric against your skin feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Mikko was downstairs watching some game, the low murmur of the TV drifting up the stairs, and you were alone in the bedroom with the door half-closed.

You didn’t even bother getting fully undressed at first. Just shoved your hand down the front of your underwear, fingers already slick when they found your clit. You rubbed slow circles at first, teasing yourself, hips shifting restlessly against the mattress.

The ache only got worse the longer you touched. You pushed two fingers inside yourself and fucked them in and out with soft, wet sounds, free hand sliding up under your shirt to pinch at your own nipple. Quiet little moans started slipping out before you could stop them, needy, frustrated sounds that only made you wetter.

You kept going until your thighs were trembling and your fingers were shiny, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more than your own hand. You needed him.

You stripped the rest of the way, left the clothes in a pile on the floor, and walked downstairs completely naked. Mikko was stretched out on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, remote in one hand, eyes on the screen.

He glanced over when he heard your footsteps and then did a double take when he saw the state of you.

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything. You climbed straight into his lap, straddling him, and ground your bare, already-soaked pussy against the soft bulk of his cock through the fabric.

The wet heat of you smeared across the front of his sweatpants immediately.

“Fuck—look at you,” he muttered, voice already rough. His hands found your hips on instinct, big palms settling over the soft flesh of your ass. “Couldn’t even wait, huh? Had to get yourself off upstairs first and still came looking for my cock like a little brat.”

You rolled your hips harder, dragging your clit along the thickening ridge of him until he was fully hard and straining under you. You shoved his waistband down without asking, freed his cock, and sank onto him in one long, slow slide.

The stretch made your head tip back and a loud, shameless moan spill out of your mouth but the second you started moving, that bratty edge crept straight into your voice.

“Mmm, finally,” you purred, rising up until only the head was left inside you, then dropping back down with a wet slap. Your tone was pure attitude—teasing, spoiled, a little mocking. “Took you long enough to get hard for me. I’ve been upstairs touching myself for ages while you just sat here watching TV. Lazy.”

Mikko’s fingers dug harder into the soft give of your ass and hips, guiding the bounce, but you kept talking through every roll of your hips, voice loud and deliberately bratty.

“Ohhh, fuck—yeah, just like that. God, you’re so deep. Bet you love when I use you like this, huh? Just climb on and take what I want.” You clenched around him on purpose and let out another exaggerated, breathy moan. “Feel how wet I am? All from playing with my own fingers., you should’ve come upstairs and done it yourself instead of making me wait.”

He groaned low and rough, the sound vibrating against your collarbone whenever you leaned forward. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna flip you over and fuck the attitude right out of you.”

You only smirked and rode him harder, thighs flexing, taking him all the way to the base every time. Your voice stayed loud, cocky, dripping with brat energy even as the pleasure started making the words shake.

“Promise? Because right now it just feels like you’re letting me use this big cock however I want. Bounce, bounce, bounce—” you punctuated each word with a deliberate drop of your hips, the wet sound of it filling the living room. “Look at you, just sitting there groaning while I ride. Such a good toy for me tonight.”

Mikko’s hands tightened, controlling the pace so you couldn’t fully rush, but you kept the running commentary going—loud, shameless, and deliberately pushy.

Every time he pulled you down harder you answered with another bratty little taunt mixed with a real moan “Harder—come on, I know you can. Or are you gonna make me do all the work again? I already got myself all wet and ready upstairs. Least you could do is fuck me properly.”

That was the last straw. He surged up, still buried inside you, and laid you out on the couch in one smooth motion. One of your legs got hooked high over his arm so he could open you wider.

He settled his full weight over you and started fucking you in long, heavy strokes that punched the air out of your lungs.

“There she is,” he growled, voice loud and rough right against your ear. “All that bratty mouth while you were on top. Let’s see how much attitude you’ve got left when I’m the one doing the fucking.”

You were still loud—broken moans and half-swallowed curses—but the cocky edge in your voice cracked every time he drove in deep. “F-fuck—Mikko—oh my god—”

“That’s better.” He didn’t slow down. Hips snapping forward with wet, filthy sounds, he kept talking right over your noises. “Take it. You wanted to act like a spoiled little thing, now you get fucked like one. Feel how deep I am? Gonna keep you full until you can’t even talk straight.”

Your nails raked down the broad plane of his back hard enough to leave raised red lines. You were past coherent sentences—just loud, desperate moans and the occasional broken “harder” or “please”—but every now and then a little bit of that bratty tone tried to slip back in between gasps.

“Is—ah—that all you’ve got?” you managed once, voice shaky and still trying to sound challenging even as your cunt fluttered around him.

He answered by going harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room along with both of your voices. “Keep testing me. See what happens.”

When you finally came it was messy and loud, your whole body seizing up, nails digging deeper into his back as a high, broken cry tore out of you.

He fucked you straight through it, drawing the orgasm out until you were oversensitive and whimpering, still vocal even when the words stopped making sense.

He wasn’t far behind. His thrusts turned short and brutal, hips slamming into yours. “Gonna fill this bratty little cunt—fuck—” He buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural shout and came hard, pulsing deep inside you, the warmth of it spilling out around his cock as he kept rocking through it.

He stayed buried for a long moment after, breathing heavy against your throat, the last little twitches of his cock still pulsing inside you. When he finally pulled out it was slow—careful, almost gentle—watching the way his cum immediately started to leak from your swollen, oversensitive pussy.

You flinched at the sudden emptiness and the way the cool air hit your thoroughly fucked cunt, a soft whimper slipping out before you could stop it.

Mikko’s whole demeanor shifted the second he saw that. The rough, brat-taming edge softened into something quieter, more attentive. He stayed braced over you on his forearms, careful not to put his full weight back on you, and looked down between your bodies with a low, almost fond sound.

“Shit… look at you. All swollen and sensitive now.” His voice was still rough from how loud he’d been, but the tone had gone careful. “Too much?”

You could only nod a little, thighs still trembling, the aftershocks making your pussy throb. He hummed in understanding and shifted just enough to free one hand.

Instead of moving away, he stayed right there over you and slipped his fingers between your legs, not pushing inside, just cupping you gently at first, the heel of his palm resting warm over your mound while his fingertips traced the slick, puffy folds.

“Just a little massage,” he murmured, like he was explaining something perfectly innocent. “You’re so worked up… this’ll help.”

It was an obvious excuse and you both knew it.

His fingers started moving in slow, deliberate circles, never too firm, always careful of how sensitive you were, spreading the mess of his cum and your own wetness around your clit in lazy, teasing strokes.

He watched your face the whole time, adjusting the pressure the second your breath hitched too sharply. “There… easy. Just feel it.” His voice stayed low and soft now, a complete contrast to the loud, filthy things he’d been saying minutes ago. “You’re still twitching… fuck, you’re so responsive when you’re like this.”

The “massage” stayed gentle but relentless. He rubbed slow circles over your clit with the pad of two fingers, occasionally dipping lower to gather more of the wetness leaking out of you and bring it back up, never actually pushing inside.

Every time your hips tried to twitch away from the overstimulation he simply shushed you quietly and kept the same careful rhythm, coaxing another orgasm out of your already spent body “Come on… one more for me. Just like that. I’ve got you.”

It built slower this time, soft and almost aching, but when it hit you it still pulled a broken, high little cry out of your throat.

Your cunt clenched around nothing, more of his cum spilling out onto his fingers as you came on his hand exactly the way he’d planned.

He worked you through it with the same careful touch until the last tremors faded, then finally stilled his hand, just resting it warmly over you while you caught your breath.

Only then did he lean back down fully. He stayed stretched over you, body covering yours without crushing, and started kissing you, slow, deep, unhurried kisses that went on and on.

Soft presses of his mouth against yours, then along your jaw, the corner of your lips, the side of your neck, back to your mouth again.

No more talking, no more teasing, just the quiet sound of your breathing mixing with his and the continuous, gentle press of his lips while you stayed exactly where you were: still under him, still open, still messy, and completely taken care of.

He kept kissing you like that for a long time, one hand still resting protectively between your legs, the other sliding up to cup the side of your face as if he couldn’t stand to stop touching you yet.

[linaaawrites]

Will Smith x reader where he´s driving you home from a team dinner and he fingers you in the front seat while Mack sleeps in the back

Frontseat Secrets

pairing: Will Smith x female reader

description: You try to stay quiet while Will fingers you in the front seat of his car with Macklin sleeping just behind you.

TW: Smut, MDNI, exhibitionism, fingering, Mack sleeping in the back, established relationship.

masterlist

The streetlights blur past as Will drives, his hand warm and possessive on your thigh. You're all still buzzing from the team dinner, from too much wine, too much laughter and too many stolen glances across the table that made your skin flush.

Macklin's been quiet in the backseat for the last fifteen minutes, his head lolling against the window as the soft music from the stereo fills the car.

Will's thumb traces circles on your thigh, higher than usual but still innocent enough. You glance at him, finding his eyes already on you in the dim dashboard light.

"Been thinking about fucking your brains out ever since you put on that dress," Will murmurs, his voice low enough not to carry to the backseat. His hand slides higher, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. "You look so damn beautiful."

Your breath catches as his fingers brush against the edge of your panties. "Will," you whisper, trying to press your legs together. "Mack's right there."

"Shh," Will says, his fingers tracing the lacy edge of your underwear. "He's sleeping. Besides," he leans closer, his voice dropping even lower, "I've been hard for you all through dinner. Could barely focus on what Coach was saying. Needed you then, need you now."

His fingers move to trace the shape of you through the damp fabric and you gasp softly as he finds your clit, tapping it lightly through your panties. The sensation is maddeningly light, just enough pressure to make you want more but not nearly enough to satisfy the ache building inside you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his thumb continuing to flick that sensitive bundle of nerves through the thin fabric. He presses down slightly and the material instantly dampens beneath his touch, soaking through with your arousal.

"Already so wet for me," he breathes, a note of awe in his voice as he feels the evidence of your desire. "Been thinking about me, baby?" His fingers trace the wet patch, spreading the moisture, making the fabric cling to your swollen lips as he marvels at how quickly he's affected you.

You can only nod, biting your lip as he slowly begins to rub circles around your clit. Each circle is agonizingly slow, designed to drive you to the edge of insanity without ever letting you fall over.

"Will, please," you whimper, your hips shifting unconsciously, seeking more friction.

"Please, what?" he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you want me to do. Ask for it properly."

"You know what I want," you breathe out, your hands gripping the edge of your seat.

"I want to hear you say it," he insists, his fingers stilling their movements. "Tell me how badly you need my fingers inside you. Tell me how much you want me to finger fuck your little pussy while my best friend's sleeping in the backseat."

"Will," you protest, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment even as your body throbs with need.

"Say it," he commands softly, his free hand moving to cup your cheek. "Or I'll keep teasing you like this all the way home."

The threat is real and you know he'll follow through. "I need your fingers inside me," you whisper, the words feeling foreign and incredibly intimate in the quiet car. "Please, Will."

"Good girl," he praises, finally sliding his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties. The first touch of his skin against yours makes you gasp, your back arching slightly as he explores your folds.

"So fucking wet," he murmurs, collecting your arousal on his fingertips before bringing them to his lips for a taste. "And you taste so good too."

Your face burns at his words, but your body responds with another gush of wetness, betraying how much his words affect you. Will notices, of course and smirks as he slides one finger inside you.

The stretch is delicious and you have to fight the urge to moan as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out of you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that match the rhythm of his finger.

"You like that, don't you?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "Like my finger inside you while Mack sleeps just a few feet away."

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he adds a second finger, the stretch making you shudder. His fingers are skilled, knowing exactly how to curl inside you to hit that spot that makes you let out these tiny pathetic whimpers.

"Stay quiet for me," he reminds you, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "Can't wake up Mack, can we?"

The soft music from the stereo isn't enough to cover the sounds your body is making, the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you, your soft gasps and whimpers. Your legs are shaking now, trembling with the effort to stay still and quiet.

"Will," you breathe out, your hand reaching out to grip his arm, needing something to hold onto as the pleasure builds.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go for me, baby. Come on my fingers."

You're close, so close and you can feel the tension coiling in your stomach. Will speeds up his movements, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, harder, deeper than before. Your hips begin to move unconsciously, fucking his fingers as you chase your release.

"Such a greedy girl," he teases, his voice strained with his own arousal. "Can't get enough, can you? Fucking my fingers while Mack could wake up any second now. You like knowing that he could wake up? That he could see how well your pussy's gripping my fingers?"

The thought of Mack seeing you like this should embarrass you, but instead it sends another wave of arousal through you and you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers. Will notices and smirks as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"Right there, isn't it?" he asks, his fingers stroking that spot again and again.

You can only nod, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans threatening to escape. Your grip on his arm tightens, your knuckles white with the force of it as your legs begin to shake uncontrollably.

"Let go for me," he commands, his voice low and demanding. "I want to feel you come on my fingers. Now."

The command is all it takes and you're coming, your body arching as waves of pleasure wash over you. A loud moan escapes your lips before you can stop it and you clamp a hand over your mouth, but it's too late.

"What was that?" Macklin's voice is thick with sleep from the backseat.

Panic floods your system as Will quickly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean. You're a blushing mess, fumbling with your dress as Macklin sits up.

"Sounded like someone moaning," he says, rubbing his eyes.

"Just a dream, man," Will says smoothly, his hand back on your thigh as if nothing happened. "Go back to sleep."

Macklin shrugs, settling back against the window. "If you say so."