EXPECTATIONS
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Claire Keane
YOU ARE THE REASON
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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tannertan36
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@kitnootkat
LUMINE'S UNTAMED GARDEN AND PERSONAL ESSAYS !!
⋆˚࿔ Lumine 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ | infp | multifandom I need smitty n bedsy to kiss me tbh
｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡｡･::･ﾟ♡ ,｡
Master lists : nhl ☆ haikyuu ☆ bsd ☆ wha Posting Schedule : N/A
n/a currently
I write for: wsh2, mc71, cb98, fm93 + more
hurt my feelings masterlist 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
finished.
the one where y/n laurier and will smith spoke back in college. it was a constant on and off, a constant back and fourth of feelings neither wanted to admit out of pure fear. eventually, the two couldn’t handle their feelings, and will said he was too focused on hockey to be with her. y/n blew up as pop musics new it girl, and will is the san jose sharks golden boy. and now? now she has a way of subtweeting the shark through her music.
chapters ⋆.𐙚 ̊
backstory, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve (1), part twelve (2), part thirteen.
playlists ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
hurt my feelings soundtrack, hurt my feelings, the album
something blue
the one where y/n toffoli has to pack up her life in new jersey and move to california due to her dads trade. macklin celebrini is the projected #1 draft pick. life has a funny way of working sometimes.
an / guys it’s the last part ☹️☹️ i have a new smau coming out w a lot more detail and a whole bunch of parts, so be on the lookout for that! thank you so so so much for all the love on something blue, and i hope that you guys don’t feel like i cheaped out on this part cause lowkey i kinda did… oopsies im sorry, i didnt know how to end it!! little time jump too, btw! part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
yntoffoli
liked by mackcelebrini, tofff73 and 20.7k others
yntoffoli happy one year to my favorite boy ever!!! you’re my everything, my life, the reason i wake up every morning and continue doing what i do. i can’t thank you enough for being here for me through everything, for building a new life with me in san jose despite balancing your career, a new chapter and being the best damn player the nhl has ever seen. i love you, i love being loved by you but most of all i’ve loved falling in love with you. you’ve given me the opportunity of a life time to love you, and i’ll forever be so grateful. enter celebrini, 19 or whatever my father in law said!!!
march 2nd, 2026
view all 232 comments
friend1 mama e papa
friend2 love u forever, im so happy u found ur person 🤍
friend3 so so so happy for u gorgeous girl
friend4 that #1 draft pick was pretty cool after all huh
→ yntoffoli @friend4 the coolest boy in all the land
mackcelebrini My gorgeous girl 🤍
→ yntoffoli @mackcelebrini i love you <3
_willsmith2 Stealing my man AGAIN
tofff73 Break his heart and I’ll kill you
→ yntoffoli @tofff73 who’s dad r u again?
mackcelebrini
liked by yntoffoli, _willsmith2 and 456.7k others
mackcelebrini 365 with you ❤️
march 2nd, 2026
view all 326 comments
fan1 we lost him boys
fan2 i’m so obsessed with you two i could cry
fan3 i’ve been here since she commented under his draft post omg
fan4 I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT
fan5 A YEAR??????
yntoffoli i love you forever 🤍
→ mackcelebrini @yntoffoli Shh I love you more
_willsmith2 You two disgust me (I love you both)
sanjosesharks 🩵🩵🩵
fan6 enter toffoli, 19.
Can I request an imagine?
List A #10
Will Smith please
Thank you ☺️
The day we met
SUMMARY : While packing up their apartment for a new chapter, Will finds an old photograph from the night he met Y/N and finally confesses that he knew from the very beginning that she would become his wife.
WC: 1.9k
WARNINGS: Fluff, established relationship, marriage, moving-related emotions, brief mentions of trades and career uncertainty.
Request: will smith + i knew i was goint to marry you the day we met
Will had always been terrible at keeping secrets from you.
It didn’t matter whether it was a birthday present hidden in the back of the closet or a surprise dinner reservation he had made weeks in advance. The moment you looked at him for longer than a few seconds, his smile would become suspiciously wide, his cheeks would turn pink, and whatever he was hiding would come spilling out.
But somehow, he had kept this one to himself for years.
You were sitting on the floor of your shared apartment, surrounded by half-packed cardboard boxes and pieces of your life scattered across the living room. Will had been traded a few weeks earlier, and although you had both known that moving was always a possibility, it still felt strange to see your home disappearing one box at a time.
Your books had been packed away. His collection of hoodies had been reduced to the three he refused to put in a suitcase. Framed photographs had been taken off the walls, leaving pale rectangles behind where the sunlight hadn’t reached.
Will sat beside you with his back against the couch, turning an old photograph between his fingers.
You leaned closer, immediately recognizing it “Oh my God.” Will laughed quietly. “I forgot we had this.”
It had been taken the night you met.
You were standing beside him at a crowded college party, your expression caught somewhere between amused and irritated while Will smiled at the camera like he had just won something. His arm wasn’t quite around you, but his hand hovered close to your waist, as if even then he had been looking for an excuse to touch you “You spilled your drink on me five minutes before that picture,” you reminded him.
“You bumped into me.”
“You walked backwards without looking.”
“Because I was talking to you.”
“You weren’t talking to me. You were trying to impress me.”
Will’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Did it work?” You looked at the photograph again “No.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
“You told me you played hockey.”
“I did play hockey.”
“You said it like you expected me to be impressed.”
“I was eighteen.”
“You were unbearable.”
“And yet, you gave me your number.” You rested your head against his shoulder. “You followed me around for almost an hour.”
“I was being persistent.”
“You were being annoying.”
“You liked me.”
“I tolerated you.”
Will turned his head and pressed a kiss against your hair “You smiled every time I talked to you.”
“I was laughing at you.”
“You still do that.”
“Because you’re still ridiculous.”
His laughter vibrated through his chest beneath your cheek. For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel empty or temporary. It still felt like home because he was sitting beside you.
Will placed the photograph carefully on top of the open box in front of him “I knew I was going to marry you the day we met.” you lifted your head so quickly that you nearly knocked your forehead against his chin “What?”
His smile softened, but there wasn’t any embarrassment in his expression. No teasing glint in his eyes. He looked completely serious “I knew I was going to marry you the day we met,” he repeated.
You stared at him “Will, you asked me what my name was three times.”
“The music was loud.”
“You called me the wrong name the second time.”
“I was nervous.”
“You tried to convince me that you knew how to dance.”
“I do know how to dance.”
“You almost knocked over a lamp.”
“That lamp was badly placed.” A laugh escaped you, but Will continued looking at you with that same quiet certainty “I’m serious,” he said, your smile slowly faded into something softer “How could you possibly know that?”
Will looked down at the photograph again.
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. It was rare for him to struggle with words around you. Usually, he could talk his way through anything, filling silence with jokes and rambling explanations until you forgot what the original conversation had been about.
But this time, he chose each word carefully “I didn’t know anything about you,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what your favorite food was or what kind of music you listened to. I didn’t know that you cried during every dog movie or that you hated when people left cabinet doors open.”
“You still leave them open.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’ve been working on it for years.”
Will smiled briefly before continuing “I didn’t know that you would become my best friend. I didn’t know you would be there for every bad game, every injury, every move, every time I doubted myself.” His fingers found yours, intertwining them. “But I looked at you that night and thought, there you are.”
Your chest tightened, Will rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand “It felt like I had been waiting for you without realizing I was waiting for anyone.”
You blinked rapidly, suddenly grateful that most of the apartment had already been packed and there were no mirrors nearby to show you how emotional you looked “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”
“I already think you’re crazy.”
“Exactly. I didn’t need to give you more evidence.” You laughed, wiping beneath your eye with your free hand, Will shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours “I remember going home that night and telling my roommate that I had met the girl I was going to marry.”
Your eyes widened. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me I had known you for two hours.”
“He had a point.”
“I told him it didn’t matter.” You searched his face, waiting for him to laugh and admit that he was exaggerating. But Will only watched you with that familiar tenderness that still made your stomach flutter, no matter how many years you had been together “And then what?” you asked quietly.
“And then I spent the next six months trying to convince you to date me.”
“It was not six months.”
“It felt like six months.”
“It was three weeks.”
“Longest three weeks of my life.”
“You were seeing someone else when we met.”
“I stopped talking to her the next morning.”
You stared at him again “What?” Will’s expression changed immediately “Wait. You didn’t know that?”
“No.”
“I thought I told you.”
“You absolutely did not.”
He rubbed the back of his neck “Well, there wasn’t much to tell, we had gone out twice. It wasn’t serious.”
“But you stopped seeing her because of me?”
Will looked almost confused by the question “Of course.”
“After knowing me for one night?”
“I told you. I knew.” Your heart felt painfully full, the move had been stressful. There had been contracts, meetings, phone calls, rushed decisions, and quiet conversations late at night about whether you were truly prepared to start over somewhere new.
You had never doubted that you would go with him.
Still, you had worried about leaving the life you had built together. The familiar coffee shop downstairs, your favorite grocery store, the friends who lived only a few minutes away. The apartment where Will had first asked you to move in with him. The kitchen where he had proposed while dinner burned in the oven because he had been too nervous to remember the timer.
But looking at him now, you understood something you should have known all along, home had never been the apartment, it had always been Will “You really knew?” you whispered, he nodded
“Immediately?”
“Immediately.”
“You didn’t even know whether I liked you.”
“I knew you would eventually.” you shoved his shoulder lightly. “That confidence almost ruined everything.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Barely.” Will caught your wrist before you could pull away and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing the ring on your finger, his ring, the one he had chosen after weeks of secretly asking your friends for advice. The one he had nearly dropped behind the stove during his proposal. The one that still made him smile whenever he saw it on your hand “I would’ve waited,” he said.
“For how long?”
“As long as it took.” your throat tightened again, Will’s eyes moved around the nearly empty apartment “You know I’m sorry about all this.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I know you loved it here.”
“I did.”
“And you’re leaving your job and your friends and everything that’s familiar because of me.” You shifted until you were facing him fully “I’m not leaving everything because of you,” you said. “I’m going somewhere new with you.”
“That’s different?”
“Completely.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, you cupped his face between your hands, smiling when his cheeks squished beneath your palms “I knew too.”
Will blinked “You knew what?"
“That I was going to marry you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “The day we met?”
“No.” His smile dropped dramatically, you laughed. “Will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Maybe our third date.”
“Third?”
“You ate my fries without asking.”
“That made you want to marry me?”
“No. You ordered another plate because you realized I was annoyed, and then you pretended you had wanted them for yourself so I wouldn’t feel bad.”
Will’s expression softened “You remember that?”
“I remember everything.”
His hands settled on your waist, “So technically, I knew first.”
“You always have to win, don’t you?”
“It’s not my fault I recognized my future wife before she recognized her future husband.”
“You were still calling me the wrong name.”
“One time.”
“Twice.”
“The first one doesn’t count. The music was loud.” you leaned forward until your forehead rested against his “You’re impossible.”
“And you married me anyway.”
“I did.” Will kissed you slowly, one hand sliding to the back of your neck. The apartment around you might have been empty, but the kiss held every year you had spent filling it.
Every late-night dinner, every argument and apology, every celebration after a win and every quiet drive home after a loss, every version of yourselves that had existed between the night you met and the life you had now.
When you pulled away, Will kept you close “You know,” he murmured, “our new place has a bigger kitchen.”
“Are you planning another proposal?”
“No. I already got the answer I wanted.”
“You could try again. Maybe I’ll say no this time.”
Will tightened his arms around you “Too late. You’re stuck with me.”
You smiled against his mouth “Good.” across the room, the photograph remained on top of the box, showing two young strangers who had no idea how much their lives were about to change, or perhaps only one of them had no idea.
Will, apparently, had known from the beginning.
Hi! 👋
Can I request Will Smith?
List A # 9
Please and thank you
FIVE MORE MINUTES
SUMMARY: A lazy morning turns into a playful battle when Y/N tries to get out of bed for brunch plans, but Will has other ideas. Determined to keep her wrapped up in his arms for “just five more minutes,” he does everything he can to convince her that staying in bed together is a much better plan.
WC: 1k
WARNINGS: Fluff, established relationship, domestic bliss, cuddling, sleepy Will Smith, teasing, kissing, light humor, lovesick behavior, tooth-rotting sweetness.
Request: Will smith + come back to bed. five more minutes
Will had always been impossible to wake up.
It didn’t matter if he had gone to bed at nine or two in the morning, if he had practice or an entire free day ahead of him—once he was comfortable, it took every ounce of strength he had to leave the warmth of the bed.
Usually, you found it endearing.
Today, however, you were supposed to be at brunch with some of his teammates and their girlfriends in less than an hour, and Will was currently wrapped around you like a human blanket.
His arm was heavy across your waist, one leg tangled between yours, his face buried against the back of your neck. Every slow breath tickled your skin, making it increasingly difficult to remember why getting up was so important.
You carefully lifted his wrist and tried to slide out from beneath him, Will immediately tightened his hold “Where are you going?” he mumbled, his voice rough and thick with sleep.
“To get ready.”
“No.”
You smiled despite yourself. “We have brunch.”
“Cancel it.”
“We can’t cancel. You’re the one who made the plans.”
“I was young and stupid when I made those plans.”
“You made them yesterday.”
“Exactly.”
You managed to free one leg and place your foot on the floor, but before you could stand, Will hooked an arm around your middle and pulled you backward, a surprised laugh escaped you as you landed against his chest.
“Will!”
“Come back to bed,” he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss against your shoulder. “Five more minutes.”
“You always say five more minutes.”
“And I always mean it.”
“You mean thirty.”
“Sometimes forty-five.”
You turned in his arms, finding his eyes still closed and his hair sticking up in every possible direction. He looked unfairly soft like this, without the usual energy and confidence he carried everywhere else, you brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead “We’re going to be late.”
“They expect that from me.”
“They don’t expect it from me.”
Will finally opened one eye, looking at you with the smallest sleepy smile “You’re dating me. They’ve adjusted their expectations.” you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“Maybe.”
His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, resting warmly against your waist. There was nothing suggestive about it. He simply seemed to need the reassurance that you were still there.
That was what always made it difficult to leave him.
Will was affectionate at the best of times, constantly reaching for your hand or resting his chin on your shoulder. But in the mornings, when he was still halfway asleep, he became especially clingy. There was no embarrassment or hesitation. He loved you, and he wanted you close.
Simple as that “You know,” you whispered, “most adults can get out of bed without emotional support.”
“I’m not most adults.”
“You’re barely an adult.”
“That sounds like something someone older than me would say.”
“I’m six months older than you.”
“Ancient.” you lightly pushed his shoulder, but he only laughed and pulled you closer until your face was tucked beneath his chin.
“Five minutes,” he repeated.
You glanced toward the clock on the nightstand “We genuinely only have five minutes.”
“Perfect.”
“And then you’re getting up.”
“Absolutely.”
“You promise?”
Will hummed, already drifting back toward sleep, you narrowed your eyes. “Will.”
“I promise,” he mumbled.
You relaxed against him, letting your eyes close again. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles along your side, and his heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek.
For a moment, the plans didn’t matter, the messages already waiting on your phone didn’t matter.
There was only the quiet bedroom, the pale morning light slipping through the curtains and Will holding you like there was nowhere else he would rather be.
Exactly five minutes later, your alarm sounded, Will groaned and buried his face deeper into the pillow, you reached over him to silence it. “Time to get up.”
“No.”
“You promised.”
“I was asleep. That promise isn’t legally binding.”
You laughed as you sat up, pulling the blanket away from him, Will stared at you in betrayal “That’s cruel.”
“Get dressed.”
He caught your hand before you could step away and pressed a kiss to your knuckles “What if we stay here and order pancakes?”
“We’re meeting everyone for pancakes.”
“But these would be private pancakes.”
“Private pancakes?”
“Yeah.” His smile became more persuasive as he tugged you closer. “No teammates stealing food off my plate. No one making fun of me because you cut my pancakes for me.”
“I did that once.”
“And it was the happiest day of my life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“I’m serious.” you leaned down and kissed him, intending for it to be quick. Will immediately placed a hand behind your neck, keeping you there for several seconds longer. When you pulled away, he was smiling triumphantly “You wasted two minutes,” you told him.
“Worth it.”
You pointed toward the bathroom. “Go.”
Will finally pushed himself upright, his hair somehow looking even worse than before. He wrapped his arms around your waist one last time, resting his forehead against your stomach “You’re coming back to bed with me after brunch.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you get ready without complaining.”
He looked up at you “That seems unreasonable.”
“Then no post-brunch nap.”
Will stood immediately “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
You watched him hurry toward the bathroom and shook your head, laughing quietly “Five more minutes,” you called after him.
His head appeared around the doorway “Don’t joke about things like that.”
And despite all his complaining, twelve minutes later, Will was dressed and waiting by the door—mostly because you had promised he could spend the entire afternoon wrapped around you again.
HE’S AN EAST COAST, JEANS ROLLED, NO COMMUNICATION. SHE’S A WELCOME SIGN. ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ
summary: in which… hockey captain will smith and you seem like a crazy match, mainly because you’re his best friend’s ex—but he proves everyone wrong by being the perfect guy for you OR the 3 times everybody was confused about you and will + the one time he finally shut them up about it
warnings: suggestive + cursing
♡ author’s note: hellooo ppl! new will smith au time 🤭 this has been in my drafts for soo long but college has had your girl busy & i finally had time to finish it!! please please send in any ideas or just some thoughts on how you feel about this au but this is one of the installments of it so far!
1. It was the third week after your very public and humiliating breakup with your ex boyfriend, Macklin. Word had traveled like wildfire—Mack, the hockey egomaniac and prodigy of your college, had told you right in the middle of your dining hall meal that he needed to focus on hockey and less on… you.
You had disappeared for a while after that, keeping your head low with the help of your sorority sisters who made sure you were still eating and well… functioning.
So when you came messy haired into the dining hall with Will Smiths’ hockey hoodie on out of all hoodies you could’ve picked, all heads turned. You sat down with your tray, unbothered, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands.
Will slid into the seat beside you, sleep in his eyes, hair still damp from morning skate. He handed you a cup of orange juice without asking. You smiled.
Two tables over, a girl leaned into her friend. “Is that seriously Will Smith? The hockey kid?”
“I thought she’d sworn off hockey guys entirely after Macklin.”
They were whispering as if you weren’t right there. But it didn’t matter, because you were too sleep deprived to care as the girls continued to chatter on.
“I don’t get it. He’s like… hot, captain and all that but he’s on the same team as Macklin, that’s gotta be weird, right? Also, he kind of looks like he’s always just a bit confused about what’s going on.”
Will glanced over. Raised an eyebrow. You almost died laughing into your eggs.
“Uh—I can hear you,” he called.
The girls went red. One of them whispered, “What did she see in him?”
You reached across the table, picked a crumb off his cheek, and popped it into your mouth.
“You said it yourself. He’s hot.” you said simply.
Will flushed to the tips of his ears.
2. The two of you found yourself at a joint party, where it was loud and weirdly sticky. It also reeked of vodka and the smell of cigarettes.
You were tipsy, and although you usually didn’t drink because of the hangover the next day, Will was very charming in convincing you to take a few shots. He obviously was wasted. And, in his defense, it was your fault he was kissing you against the hallway wall like he forgot other people existed.
You giggled into his mouth. “Will, someone’s gonna see—”
“I want them to,” he mumbled, hands on your hips, voice low and slurred and sweet. “They should know who you’re going home with.”
Two girls stepped out at that exact moment and froze. One clutched her bag close to her side. “Is that—?”
“Oh my God, it’s her. With Will. Smitty.”
“I thought she was still recovering from Mack?”
“Nope. She’s out here healing with another hockey boy.”
Will finally noticed them. Looked up. Smiled. “Hey,” he slurred. “That’s my girlfriend.”
You shush him. “Will.”
The issue was—he didn’t exactly ask you to be his official girlfriend just yet. And he couldn’t. Despite most people on campus catching onto you and Will, Macklin was none the wiser. It kind of had a lot to do with how everybody was self aware and Macklin was lack of, and how he really meant it when he told you he just wanted to focus on hockey.
He didn’t even have time to realize that you were seeing his best friend.
“No, no, let me have this moment.” He grinned at the girls. “She likes me. On purpose.”
They both stared. “Good for you Smitty.” The taller one of the two says. “Heard she was a keeper.”
3. Although Will was his close friend, Gabe didn’t exactly see what you saw in him.
He walked to his car after a long day of skating practice, and funny enough, he had parked right next to Will’s car.
He was just going to scare the boy by loudly knocking on his window until his eyes focused on you, who was curled up in Will’s passenger seat, sipping a matcha with both hands while he argued with the CarPlay that wasn’t connecting.
“Perreault!” You say excitedly, rolling down your window. “Come with us for dinner?”
He should’ve said no. He had a lot—and by a lot—it was at least 7 pages of literature homework to get through. But he wanted to see how the two of you worked in action.
“Jesus,” Gabe said later that night, watching you giggle as Will tried to parallel park and failed three times. “At least she’s not with Mack anymore.”
When Will finally drops you off home that night, he gets out of his car and walks you to your dorm, making sure you’re all cozied in before retrieving back to his car.
This makes Gabe smirk, and Will notices right away, eyes already ready to roll.
“Shut up,” Will muttered, cheeks red. “We’re just hanging out.”
But “just hanging out” didn’t explain the way Will remembered your matcha order down to the oat milk ratio. Or the way you wore his hoodie to the dining hall and Econ like it belonged to you now. Or the way Will’s voice softened, every damn time he said your name.
You two weren’t supposed to make sense.
You were Friday night by the sea with a movie playing on a projector. Tea at 4pm with a book in hand. A girl who journaled her feelings and told people thank you with eye contact.
Will was a commitment issues on legs—except to hockey—God, what was it with hockey boys and their commitment issues to everything but their sport?
He missed dinners, skipped hockey meetings, and hated obligation like it was contagious.
You two weren’t supposed to fit. He was your ex boyfriend’s best friend, teammate, the guy who skated with him since the start of college. It just didn’t make sense how you two could even fit.
But you did. And that confused Gabe more than ever.
But Will’s his close friend, and over the past few months of sitting with you in Econ, you were starting to become one of Gabe’s friends as well. When you were with Mack, you barely interacted with any of the hockey guys.
To them, you were just someone who was in the passing. You’d come to their practices, obviously, but you were reduced to someone who was just in Macklin’s world.
So the two of you were happy, which it sure as hell looked like it, Gabe was happy for you.
+ 1 The next party was supposed to be chill.
It wasn’t hosted by Signu, thank God. It was just some house off campus, filled with some of the hockey guys and a really good playlist on for once. You were having a good night—wearing a black mini skirt with a short top, sipping a strawberry seltzer, and laughing at something Gabe said about the freshman who tried to body slam him into the boards.
Will was close by. Always close. Arm around your waist, chin brushing your temple when he leaned in to make some snarky comment. Every time he laughed, it rumbled against your back. You were warm and buzzed and exactly where you wanted to be.
Until she showed up. You didn’t know her name. But the moment Will stiffened beside you, shoulders tight and mouth in a line, you knew she was someone from the past. His past.
“Will,” the girl practically whined as she approached, red cup dangling from her hand. She was tall, tanned, and clearly drunk.
You stepped slightly aside, but Will didn’t let go of your waist. If anything, he held you tighter.
“Ava.” Will says, clearly already over the conversation.
“Oh wow,” the girl, who you now know as Ava, steps right in front of him and glances at you like you were some inconvenient barrier to her night. “You’re still with her? Like actually, with her?”
Will blinked once. “Yeah. I am.”
She scoffed. “Seriously? What happened to you?”
You raised an eyebrow. Will didn’t say anything. But his grip didn’t loosen.
Ava takes a sip from her cup. “You used to be fun. Like… remember that night welcome week of freshman year? In the upstairs bathroom at Dickinson’s thing?” She leaned in, eyes twitching. “I don’t remember you being into the whole soft boyfriend thing.”
You opened your mouth, stunned. But then she said it. Loud enough for you, and everyone nearby, to hear.
“What? Is she friends with all your hockey buddies or something? I know she was Mack’s ex, that’s gotta mean something if she can get both him and you, huh? Easygoing like how you like them? Or does she give really good head?”
The silence was immediate. You froze. So did Gabe, whose jaw was practically on the floor by now. And cruelly enough, the music too for a second, as someone tripped over the aux cord—Dickinson, too gagged by your conversation—didn’t chew the person out right away.
“Say that again.”
Ava blinked. Eyes starting to water in frustration. “What?”
Will stepped forward. “You think it’s funny disrespecting her like that?” he said, voice low, steady. “You think now that you’re in some fucking low tier sorority that you get to talk about her like she’s a joke?”
Ava’s breath hitches.
“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Will went on, “So if you’re bitter, if you’re mad I moved on from your drunk ass and actually found someone who matters—go scream into a pillow or something. But don’t talk to her that way.”
Ava stares at him, stunned.
“I don’t go about things like that,” he said, louder now. “I don’t hook up behind backs and I don’t keep people around to use when I’m bored. You and me? That was a mistake, and I’m sorry that you were under the impression that it was otherwise.”
Ava’s crying by now, her drunken rambles from earlier now gone as she sobered up right in front of you from Will’s words. You almost feel bad because she got humiliated right in front of the whole hockey team and some more, but you then remember what she had just said about you.
“You’re a jackass, Will.” She cries, storming off into the backyard.
Will’s chest is heaving, and you can tell he’s stressed out by the way his hands shake and his eyes are darting back and forth between you and where Ava just stormed off.
“Hey,” you say, pulling him upstairs. Gabe gives you a nod, as if he was thanking you for being there for his friend in such a weird moment like this.
“Breathe.” You place your hand on his chest, your other hand comes to hold his shaking one, and he finally lets out a deep exhale.
“Sorry.” He says.
“No.” You shake your head. “Why would you be sorry?”
“I usually don’t do that.” He says.
“I know.” Your voice is so soft it makes Will want to cry. You’re just so sweet, too sweet, and it makes Will feel horrible that people like Mack and Ava treated you so badly.
“Thank you for defending my honor.” You joke. “Even if she was right about some things.”
“Nah,” he finally smiles, the same smile you grew to love each time you saw it on Will’s face. “Maybe one. The really good head one.”
You elbow him in the side, making blonde boy groan out in pain.
“Sorry, sorry.” He says, throwing his hands out in surrender.
“You’re lucky I like you, Smitty.” You smile, closing the gap between you and him.
The girl he always choose
SUMMARY: You had spent your entire life believing Mathew Barzal belonged with someone more beautiful, more confident, and more suited to his world. Mat had spent his entire life wondering how you could possibly fail to notice that he had always chosen you.
WC: 4.4k
WARNINGS: Insecurity, negative body image, self-deprecating thoughts, class differences, mentions of online criticism, emotional confession, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff.
Requested: Mathew Barzal + Childhood friends to lovers
You had known Mathew for so long that you couldn’t remember meeting him.
There was no clear beginning to your friendship. No first introduction preserved in either of your memories. There had simply always been Mat.
Mat stealing pieces of fruit from your lunchbox during elementary school, Mat waiting outside your house with his bicycle discarded carelessly on your lawn, Mat convincing you to sit through hours of hockey practice because he promised to buy you hot chocolate afterward, Mat calling you from tournaments when he was supposed to be sleeping, whispering into the phone so his teammates wouldn’t hear him admit that he missed home.
You had been there before the packed arenas and screaming fans. Before the expensive suits, endorsement deals, magazine covers, and verified social media accounts. Before strangers began behaving as though they knew him because they watched him play hockey a few nights each week.
To you, he was still the boy who had broken your mother’s kitchen window while attempting to prove he could hit a tennis ball farther than you.
He was still the teenager who had shown up at your house after being drafted, clutching his new jersey in trembling hands because the magnitude of his dream coming true had finally overwhelmed him.
He was still your best friend.
And that was precisely why you had never allowed yourself to believe he could become anything more.
Mat’s arm was stretched along the back of your couch as he watched you move around your tiny apartment kitchen “You’re avoiding me,” he announced.
You didn’t turn around. “I’m making pasta.”
“You’ve been making pasta for forty minutes.”
“The sauce requires patience.”
“You poured it out of a jar.”
You glanced over your shoulder, glaring at him, Mat grinned, completely unbothered. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair still slightly damp from the shower he had taken after practice. He looked unfairly comfortable in your apartment, his long legs spread out beneath your coffee table like he lived there.
In some ways, he practically did.
He had a key. He kept extra clothes in the bottom drawer of your dresser. His preferred coffee creamer was permanently stocked in your refrigerator, despite the fact that you hated it. Your neighbors no longer blinked when they saw one of the most recognizable athletes in New York walking through the building with takeout bags balanced in his arms.
But during the past few weeks, something had shifted between you.
Mat had become more attentive than usual, More affectionate. He touched your waist when he moved behind you in the kitchen. He rested his hand on your thigh while you watched movies. He looked at you for too long, his expression softening whenever you caught him.
At first, you had tried to convince yourself it was nothing.
Mat was naturally affectionate. He hugged his teammates, kissed his mother’s cheek, and regularly invaded your personal space without invitation. It was simply who he was. Then he had asked you to attend the Islanders’ charity gala with him.
Not as his friend, as his date. You had laughed because you assumed he was joking, he hadn’t laughed with you. Since then, you had been avoiding the conversation “You still haven’t answered me,” Mat said.
You stirred the sauce even though it didn’t need stirring. “About what?”
“The gala.”
“I told you I’m working.”
“You’re not.” Your hand stopped, Mat leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “Your coworker switched shifts with you.”
You slowly turned around. “How do you know that?”
“I asked.”
“You asked my coworker about my schedule?”
“I went to get coffee. She was there.”
“You hate the coffee from my job.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“You once said it tasted like boiled cardboard.”
“It does.” He shrugged. “But you work there.”
That was Mat’s irritatingly simple explanation for everything. Why had he sat in the corner of the café for four hours while you worked a double shift?
Because you worked there.
Why did he drive almost an hour through traffic to eat reheated leftovers in your apartment?
Because you lived there.
Why had he flown you to Vancouver when your mother had surgery, rearranging his entire offseason schedule without telling you?
Because you needed him.
He made devotion sound ordinary. As if loving you—in whatever way he loved you—was as natural as breathing. You turned back toward the stove. “I don’t want to go.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Mat stood. You heard his footsteps cross the kitchen before he stopped behind you, he didn’t touch you, although you could feel the heat of him against your back “Did I do something?” he asked quietly.
The vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache “No.”
“Then why have you barely looked at me since I asked you?”
“Because you shouldn’t have asked.” Silence filled the kitchen, you immediately regretted the words. When you turned, Mat was staring at you with his eyebrows drawn together “What does that mean?”
“It means you should take someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else.”
“You could have anyone.”
“I know.” The confidence of his answer irritated you more than it should have, you released a humorless laugh. “Right. Exactly.”
Mat’s frown deepened. “Exactly what?”
“You’re Mathew Barzal.”
“Yes. We established that about twenty-eight years ago.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
You switched off the stove and pushed past him, suddenly unable to stand inside the small kitchen with his body occupying most of the available space. Mat followed you into the living room “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“There obviously is.”
“Can you please drop it?”
“No.”
You spun around. “Why not?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and you’ve been acting like I proposed that we rob a bank instead of asking you to come to a party with me.”
“It isn’t just a party.”
“It is to me.”
“You’ll be photographed.”
“So?”
“People will assume things.”
“What things?”
“That we’re together.”
Mat held your gaze, you waited for him to laugh. To look uncomfortable. To dismiss the possibility immediately. Instead, he took a step closer “Would that be so terrible?”
Your heart stumbled painfully “Mat.”
“What?”
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t mean them.”
His expression changed, the playful impatience disappeared, replaced by something quieter and more serious “You think I don’t mean it?”
“I think you’re confused.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve been single for a while, and I’m familiar. I’m safe.”
“You are familiar. You are safe.” He paused. “Neither of those things means I’m confused.”
You folded your arms over your chest, attempting to protect yourself from a conversation you had spent years avoiding “Mat, please.”
“No. You don’t get to decide what I feel and then tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’m trying to save us from making a mistake.”
“Wanting you isn’t a mistake.” The words landed between you with enough force to steal your breath, Mat watched you carefully. There was no teasing in his expression. No uncertainty.
He meant it.
Somehow, that frightened you more, you shook your head. “You don’t want me.” His jaw tightened. “I just said I do.”
“You think you do.”
“Stop telling me what I think.”
“You date models, Mat.”
“I’ve dated two models.”
“That’s two more than most people.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“Everything!” Your voice broke through the apartment, louder than you intended, Mat fell silent.
The embarrassment came immediately, burning across your face and down your neck. You looked away from him, fixing your gaze on the worn rug beneath your feet “You don’t understand,” you whispered.
“Then help me understand.”
You wanted to refuse.
You wanted to pretend there was nothing wrong, serve the pasta, and return to the comfortable version of your friendship where Mat was yours without truly belonging to you.
But he was standing there, waiting and perhaps you had grown tired of carrying the truth alone
“You belong with someone who fits into your life.”
“You fit into my life better than anyone.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
You swallowed hard “A hockey girlfriend.”
Mat blinked. “What is a hockey girlfriend?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Someone beautiful. Someone who knows how to dress for events and looks good in every picture. Someone confident who can walk into a room full of strangers and doesn’t spend the entire night wondering if everyone is laughing at her.”
Mat’s face softened, but you continued before he could interrupt.
“Someone with an interesting career who doesn’t come home smelling like burnt coffee and cleaning products. Someone who doesn’t spend half her paycheck on rent for an apartment where the bedroom door doesn’t close properly.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward the crooked door down the hallway “It really doesn’t close,” he admitted. You glared at him through the tears beginning to blur your vision “Not helping.”
“Sorry.”
You wiped beneath your eyes impatiently. “Someone skinny,” you forced yourself to add. “Someone who doesn’t have to change outfits six times because everything makes her feel enormous. Someone blond, probably, because that seems to be what hockey players like.”
“I like brunettes.”
“You’ve dated blonds.”
“I’ve also eaten raisins. That doesn’t mean they’re my preference.”
Despite yourself, a strangled laugh escaped you, Mat stepped closer, but you immediately moved back. His smile disappeared.
“You’re not listening,” you whispered. “People would look at us and wonder what you’re doing with me.”
“People wonder why I make half my decisions. I’m still allowed to make them.”
“I would embarrass you.”
“You could never embarrass me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I watched you throw up in a decorative planter at my cousin’s wedding.”
“I had food poisoning.”
“You drank eight glasses of sangria.”
“The fruit made it difficult to count.”
“My point is, we survived it.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.” Mat’s voice softened, He closed the remaining distance slowly, giving you enough time to move away, you didn’t. “I know it isn’t funny,” he repeated. “But listening to you talk about yourself like this is killing me.”
You stared at the logo printed across his sweatshirt because looking into his eyes felt impossible. His fingers gently touched your wrist “Do you honestly think I care what color your hair is?”
“It isn’t only about my hair.”
“I know. You think you aren’t skinny enough. You think your job isn’t impressive enough. You think you’re too quiet, and that your clothes aren’t expensive, and that somehow any of that matters more than the fact that you’re you.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple to me.”
“Well, it isn’t to me.”
“I know.” His thumb moved slowly over the inside of your wrist “That’s the part I didn’t understand,” he admitted. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I’ve been in love with you for years.” Your head snapped upward, Mat looked terrified.
Mat, who played in front of thousands of people. Mat, who faced reporters after terrible losses and tolerated strangers dissecting his every mistake. Mat, who had always seemed incapable of being intimidated by anything. He was terrified of you.
“You’re lying,” you breathed.
“I’m not.”
“You would have said something.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“When we were seventeen and I asked if you’d ever date a hockey player.”
“You asked whether I would date Sidney Crosby.”
“I was testing the waters.”
“You chose the most famous hockey player in Canada.”
“I panicked.” A disbelieving laugh left you, Mat’s mouth lifted slightly “Then there was your twenty-first birthday,” he continued. “I tried to kiss you outside the restaurant.”
“You tripped.”
“I leaned in, you stepped backward then I tripped.”
“I thought you were drunk.”
“I was drunk. I was also trying to kiss you.”
Your mind searched through years of memories, suddenly rearranging moments you had misunderstood. The lingering hugs, the jealousy he denied whenever you dated someone, the way every girlfriend Mat had ever had seemed to dislike you before properly meeting you.
The late-night calls, the spare key, the coffee creamer, the fact that Mat always came home to you.
“You never said anything,” you whispered.
“You never acted like you wanted me to.”
“Because I didn’t think I was allowed to.”
His forehead creased. “Allowed?”
“You were my best friend. Then you became…” You gestured helplessly at him. “This.”
“A guy standing in your apartment?”
“A famous professional athlete.”
“I was already playing professional hockey when you made me drive across the city because you saw a spider.”
“It was huge.”
“It was the size of a blueberry.”
“It moved quickly.”
“You trapped it under a mixing bowl and put a chair on top of the bowl.”
“I didn’t want it escaping.”
Mat’s lips twitched, but his eyes remained serious “You never treated me differently,” he said. “Do you know how rare that is?”
“You’re still you.”
“And you’re still you.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“It is to me.”
He lifted your hand and pressed it against the center of his chest. Beneath your palm, his heart was beating rapidly “You think I need someone who understands the cameras and the events and all the other bullshit that comes with hockey,” he said. “I don’t. I need someone who understands me.”
Your fingers curled slightly against his sweatshirt.
“You know when I need space before I ask for it. You know I pretend I’m not upset after a bad game because I hate feeling like I disappointed people. You know I can’t sleep when I’m anxious, so you talk to me about absolutely nothing until I stop thinking.”
His hand covered yours “You knew me before anyone was watching. And after everyone started watching, you were the only person who still saw the same kid.”
“Mat…”
“You’re the first person I call when something good happens. You’re the person I want when everything goes wrong. When I picture going home, I don’t picture Coquitlam or New York. I picture wherever you are.”
Tears slipped silently down your cheeks, Mat released your hand only to cup your face “And for the record,” he continued, brushing one tear away with his thumb, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“You have to say that now.”
“I absolutely don’t.”
“You’re trying to convince me to date you.”
“I’m doing a terrible job if you still think I’d lie to accomplish that.”
You gave him a watery smile, his gaze moved over your face with such open affection that you almost had to look away “I love your hair,” he said. “Especially when you complain about it being impossible and then leave it all over my bathroom.”
“I have never used your bathroom.”
“You stayed at my place for three weeks while your building had a plumbing problem.”
“That was different.”
“I found a hair on my jersey months later.”
“Brunette hair is easily identifiable.”
“That’s not the argument you think it is.” You rolled your eyes, but Mat’s expression grew serious again “And I love your body.”
Your smile faded. His hands dropped from your face, resting carefully against your waist “Not despite anything,” he said. “Not because I’m being nice. I love you exactly as you are.”
You tensed instinctively beneath his touch, Mat noticed, he always noticed. His hands immediately loosened, but he didn’t remove them “You don’t have to believe everything tonight,” he whispered. “I know I can’t undo years of you feeling like you’re not enough in one conversation.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like enough for your world.”
“Then maybe my world needs to change.”
“You can’t change your entire life for me.”
“I’m not changing my life. I’m telling you that you’re already part of it.”
You looked at him, searching for hesitation, there was none “What about my job?”
“What about it?”
“It’s awful.”
“You hate it?”
“Most days.”
“Then I’ll support you while you find something you like. But I’m not embarrassed that you work at a café. You work harder than nearly everyone I know.”
“It isn’t glamorous.”
“Neither is hockey. I spend half my life in sweaty equipment with grown men yelling at me.”
“You earn millions of dollars.”
“That does improve it.”
You laughed again, shaking your head, Mat smiled, relief briefly softening his features, then his thumb brushed over your side “And you don’t need to become one of the women you see online,” he said. “You don’t have to dress like them or look like them or act like them. I don’t want a hockey girlfriend.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
One simple word, it shouldn’t have been powerful enough to dismantle every defense you had built, but it did.
“I’m scared,” you admitted.
“I am too.”
“You don’t look scared.”
“I’ve been trying to tell my best friend I’m in love with her for ten minutes, and she keeps accusing me of having a blond fetish.” A surprised laugh burst from you, Mat grinned “There you are.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are a little.”
“Only enough to stop you from crying.” His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes, you looked at him for a long moment “What happens if we ruin everything?”
“What happens if we don’t?”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No, but it’s the question that has kept me awake for years.”
Your breath caught, Mat leaned closer, slowly enough that you understood exactly what he was asking. His forehead touched yours “I’m not asking you to suddenly become confident,” he whispered. “I’m not asking you to walk into that gala and pretend you aren’t nervous. You can spend the entire night holding my hand. We can leave after ten minutes. We can skip it completely and eat pasta here.”
“The sauce might be burned.”
“It came from a jar. We’ll recover.”
You closed your eyes briefly “What are you asking me for, then?”
“A chance.” His nose brushed yours.
“One real chance to love you the way I’ve wanted to.” Your heart was beating so hard you wondered whether he could feel it through the small distance between you “And if I’m terrible at this?”
“You’ve watched me attempt to assemble furniture. You know I have a high tolerance for failure.”
“You put an entire bookcase together backward.”
“The instructions were unclear.”
“They had pictures.”
“I was under pressure.” You smiled, your hands finally settling against his chest, Mat’s expression softened as he looked down at them, then he looked at you again “Can I kiss you?”
You had imagined this moment more times than you would ever admit.
In those fantasies, you had always been different. Thinner. More confident. Wearing something beautiful instead of old leggings and a faded sweater. Your hair had been styled, your skin perfect, and your hands hadn’t trembled when they reached for him.
But Mat wasn’t looking at an imaginary version of you, he was looking at you. The real you.
The woman who smelled faintly of tomato sauce and had cried hard enough that her eyes would be swollen in the morning and he still wanted you
“Yes,” you whispered.
Mat kissed you gently. There was no desperate urgency. No dramatic collision of mouths after years of suppressed feelings. It was soft, patient. His hand cupped the back of your neck while the other remained at your waist, anchoring you against him without pulling you closer than you were prepared to be.
It felt familiar and entirely new at once, like discovering that the home you had been searching for was the place where you had always lived.
When he pulled back, his lips remained close to yours “You okay?”
You nodded, dazed “That was…”
“Good?” he suggested.
“Unexpected.”
“I confessed my love first. There was some warning.”
You lightly shoved his chest, Mat laughed and caught your hand, bringing it to his mouth. His lips brushed your knuckles. The tenderness of the gesture made your chest tighten again “You really want me to go to the gala with you?” you asked.
“Yes.”
“As your date?”
“Yes.”
“People might say things.”
“People always say things.”
“What if they don’t think I’m pretty enough for you?”
Mat’s amusement disappeared, he brought your hand back to his chest “Then they’ll be wrong.”
“It won’t bother you?”
“It’ll bother me that it hurts you.” He paused. “But it won’t make me question you and it definitely won’t make me ashamed of you.”
You studied his face “What will you do if someone asks who I am?”
A slow smile spread across his lips “I’ll tell them you’re the girl I’ve been in love with since I was seventeen.”
Your cheeks warmed “You cannot tell reporters that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
“For you or for me?”
“For me. You apparently have no shame.”
“Correct.”
You rested your forehead against his chest, hiding your face, Mat wrapped both arms around you. His cheek settled against the top of your head, and for several quiet seconds, neither of you spoke.
You could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart “You know,” he murmured, “my mom is going to be unbearable.”
Your stomach dropped. “Your mom?”
“She has been waiting for this since we were kids.”
“She knows?”
“Everyone knows.”
You pulled back sharply. “Everyone?”
“My parents. Your parents. My sister. Half my childhood friends.”
“And nobody told me?”
“They assumed you knew.”
“I didn’t know!”
“Apparently, I was obvious.”
“You dated other people.”
“I was trying to move on.”
The admission erased your outrage “Did it work?”
Mat looked at you as though the answer was self-evident “I’m standing in your apartment while pasta burns behind us.” Your eyes widened “The pasta!”
You rushed toward the kitchen, but Mat caught you around the waist before you could escape, a laugh left you as he pulled you back against his chest. “Let it burn,” he murmured, pressing his face into your hair.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“I’ll order something.”
“You complain every time I order delivery.”
“I’m feeling generous.”
“You’re only saying that because you finally kissed me.”
“Exactly. This is the happiest day of my life.”
“You were drafted into the NHL.”
“Second happiest.”
“You won the Calder.”
“Third.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me.” The words stilled you, Mat seemed to realize what he had said at the same moment. His grip loosened slightly, giving you room to step away.
You didn’t.
You turned in his arms “I do,” you admitted quietly. Hope transformed his entire face “I’ve loved you for years. I just never thought I could have you.”
Mat’s eyes shone as he leaned down “You’ve always had me.” This kiss was different. Still gentle, but no longer tentative.
Mat kissed you like someone who had spent years waiting for permission. Like someone finally arriving at the destination he had been moving toward his entire life and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him.
Not completely.
The insecurities didn’t disappear because Mat loved you. You knew there would be difficult days. Photographs you would hate. Comments you shouldn’t read but inevitably would. Events where you would compare yourself to every woman in the room.
Loving Mat wasn’t going to magically teach you how to love yourself.
But when you finally attended the gala two weeks later, wearing a simple dark dress you had nearly returned three times, Mat looked at you as though every other person in the room had vanished.
He didn’t release your hand when the cameras began flashing, he didn’t hurry you through the photographs when you stiffened beside him, Instead, he leaned toward your ear “You look beautiful.”
“You’ve said that twelve times.”
“I’m trying to make it thirteen.”
“You don’t have to keep reassuring me.”
“I know.”
His fingers intertwined with yours.
“I want to.”
A reporter called Mat’s name and asked him to identify the woman standing beside him. You felt his hand tighten around yours, Mat looked at you first.
A silent question. You swallowed your fear and nodded, his smile was immediate “This is YN,” he said proudly. “My girlfriend.”
The title sent a wave of warmth through your chest.
Another reporter asked how you had met, Mat’s smile softened as he glanced at you “She’s my childhood best friend.”
“And now?”
His eyes never left yours “Now she’s finally letting me take her on a proper date.”
The reporters laughed, but you barely heard them. Mat lifted your joined hands and kissed your knuckles.
You knew the photographs would spread online before you even reached your table, you knew strangers would have opinions.
Some would call you beautiful. Others wouldn’t understand. A few might decide you weren’t thin enough, glamorous enough, or interesting enough to stand beside him.
But Mat wasn’t looking at them, he was looking at you.
The brunette girl from Coquitlam who had sat through his hockey practices and answered his midnight phone calls, the girl with the tiny apartment and the terrible job. The girl who had never believed someone like Mathew Barzal could choose her.
Except Mat hadn’t chosen you because he had become famous and suddenly noticed you standing nearby.
He had chosen you when you were children, he had chosen you through every city, every season, and every version of himself. And when the room became too loud, Mat leaned down and whispered the truth he intended to spend the rest of your lives proving.
“You were never the opposite of what I wanted.” His lips brushed your temple “You were always it.”
i’ve been seeing all these videos about the sharks at a school (?) or wherever they were, and one was macklin reading to kids, so my idea was like student teacher reader meets macklin or something cute
the run-ins macklin celebrini x student teacher!reader wc: 5.4k note: full disclosure, i'm not sure kindergarteners learn about the life cycle of animals, but i had a cute idea so who cares
the first time you run into him, you're at target.
it's 10:30, target closes at 11, and you have a class full of kindergarteners that are fully expecting pet dinosaurs tomorrow morning at seven thirty sharp.
your host teacher, allison, has a tradition every year where the kids raise pet dinosaurs. it's during the life cycle unit, after learning about how different animals go from being in eggs to being fully grown.
at the beginning of last week, you and allison handed out the dinosaur eggs. the kids had spent the entire week loving them, making sure they were safe, even building little nests inside their desks for them. they all got really into it, passionately dedicated to their future pet dinosaurs.
it's one of the cutest things you've ever seen.
which is why you desperately need these little plastic dinosaurs.
allison has a four year old and a two year old. she has a lot on her plate. she's the best host teacher you could've ever dreamt of, the nicest woman on the planet, and all you want is for her to be happy.
both of her kids have been having trouble sleeping lately, which means allison hasn't really been sleeping, either. she puts on a really good front for the kids, but you see sides of her they don't. you see the way her blinks are just a little bit too long, the bags under her eyes, and the way she's struggling to focus more and more everyday.
so when she complained about having to make time to run to the store to get plastic dinosaurs, you volunteered to get them yourself.
unfortunately, this week was very busy for you between class, student teaching, and work. so... you totally spaced it.
10:30 on a sunday. and you can't find these fucking dinosaurs.
you've checked toys twice, party favors, and even the art section, but they're nowhere to be found.
it hits 10:45, and the remaining employees are eyeing you with concern, hoping desperately you get out soon. you feel bad, because you know that they don't get paid enough, and all they want is to go home, but you are not leaving without plastic dinosaurs.
you already braved asking an employee if there are any in the back, but the tired-looking teenager had just said: "what we have is out, ma'am, i'm sorry,"
so you're kind of out of luck.
but that's when you see him.
you're standing in front of the party favor aisle, where you'd been sure they would be. a man appears at the other end of the aisle, and even though you don't want to admit it, what catches your attention initially is how pretty he is.
tall, floppy brown hair, bright green eyes, rosy cheeks.
woah.
you're momentarily distracted by him, caught a little bit off guard at the attractive stranger in target at such a late hour.
so distracted, in fact, that it takes you a second to realize what he's just grabbed.
a package of tiny plastic dinosaurs.
"hey!" the word is out of your mouth before you can really process it, and then you're walking towards the cute stranger with more determination than you thought you could possess at this point in the night. "um, where did you find those?"
the cute stranger looks beyond confused, but answers anyway. "right there," he points at a small gap between two other products. which, unfortunately, is disastrously lacking in additional dinosaurs.
"do you need them?" you ask, pointing at the dinos in his hand. you know you look crazy, but you've decided you no longer care.
cute stranger cocks his head to the side, thinking for a few seconds. "i guess not. my roommate is really into baking and wanted to make a dinosaur themed cake."
"can i have them please?" you ask. "i'm sorry about your roommate's cake, but i really need them."
he looks like he's trying to hold in a laugh. "is there some sort of plastic dinosaur emergency happening somewhere?"
"kind of," you admit. "i'm a teacher. we're learning about the life cycle, and my kids are expecting pet dinosaurs to be hatched in their desks by tomorrow morning. i totally spaced getting them this weekend, and my host teacher is already struggling, so i thought i was doing her a favor by offering to get them for the kids, but it's not a favor if i don't actually get them, and-"
"here," cute stranger cuts you off by shoving the little bag in your hands. "my roommate will survive."
for a few seconds, you just stare down at them in shock. then the excitement takes over, and you smile, hugging them to your chest.
"thank you," you breathe. "seriously, you have no idea how awesome you are. you just made a class of 25 kindergarteners very happy.”
he nods, a smile on his face. "i'm so glad."
the two of you just stand there for another few seconds, looking into each other's eyes, a slightly awkward silence engulfing the situation.
finally, you sigh and say, "well i um, better get out of here. school tomorrow and all."
"i have work," he sticks his hands in his pockets.
you're not sure what else to say, so you just smile, and then turn around to start walking towards the registers.
cute stranger starts walking with you.
"i'm mack, by the way," he offers. you look up at him in surprise, watching as pink begins to crawl up his neck to his cheeks, even the tips of his ears warming.
"y/n," you respond, feeling a little bit awestruck. "nice to meet you."
he walks with you to the register, stays with you as you approach the tired-looking cashier. you're so busy with rifling through your bag for your card that you fail to notice two things.
one, the cashier's eyes widening as they land on mack, mouth dropping open in surprise and awe.
two, mack tapping his phone on the little device, paying for your students' pet dinosaurs.
you only end up noticing one of those things.
"oh, you-" you try, but then the little screen says card accepted, and this strange, very cute boy has just paid for you. when you look up at him, there's a small, proud smile on his face. "you didn't have to do that," you finish.
mack shrugs. "i... wanted to,"
you sigh, snatching the little bag of dinos off the counter, and beginning to exit the target. you can’t keep the smile off your face, but you can’t keep the disbelief out of your mind, either. you don’t look back as you walk through the sliding glass doors and towards your car.
you know that he’s behind you.
halfway through the parking lot, you stop.
“i’m not going to give you my number just because you bought dinos for my kids,” you say, willing yourself to stay strong. he’s cute, yes, but he’s still a stranger. a stranger who bought you something, which is almost never a good sign, even if this guy seems really nice. “it was very sweet, but i’m perfectly capable of providing my own students with dinosaurs,”
you turn back around, continuing to make your way to your car. you can hear his footsteps continue behind you.
mack-the-stranger nods, hand reaching up to awkwardly scratch at the nape of his neck. “yeah, i can see what’s going on here…” he sighs. “i don’t expect your number. just wanted to do a nice thing for a pretty girl,”
your cheeks heat at the compliment, as well as being relieved that he’s not pressuring you for anything. he is really cute, and seems really nice. you almost offer to give it to him anyway, but you stand your ground.
so instead, you just smile, say, “well then, goodnight mack. it was nice to meet you,” and get in your car.
you tell yourself to forget about him, about the cute target boy who was so kind as to give you the plastic dinosaurs for your students, and then buy them for you. when you go into school the next morning, and begin setting out the dinosaurs for your students, you try to forget him. and you try your hardest to not bring him up when allison thanks you for getting the dinosaurs so she didn’t have to, but you’re unable to.
even though you spend the next few weeks trying desperately to get the cute stranger from a late night target run out of your mind, you continue to fail.
miserably.
the next time you see him, you’re attempting to balance 10 pizzas in your arms.
your kids won a contest, reading more books than all the other classes at the elementary school. because of that, they’re getting a pizza party.
it’s well deserved. they all read like crazy, giving the best book reports allison says she’s ever seen from her students, and supporting each other when the class was beginning to slow down on their reading progress. it was so cute watching them all treat the school wide reading contest like some sort of battle field, especially since they came out victorious.
when the principal came over the PA system and announced that it was mrs. wright’s class (your class) that had won the pizza party, the room exploded instantly. you’ve never seen them so happy, it was amazing.
they worked so hard for the pizza party, and they definitely deserved it.
you and allison were both excited for it as well, considering that would be an hour where you didn’t have to be doing any teaching, and would just get to have fun with the kids.
there’s just one wrinkle.
nobody told you that the pizza wasn’t getting delivered.
you’re in your car before anyone can say anything, speeding towards the pizza place as safely as you can.
when you get there, the place is pretty empty. there’s a small family sitting in the corner, and a man standing by the counter wearing a ball cap, and the guy behind the register.
“hi!” you’re out of breath from sprinting to your car, then into the building, and from your anxiety. “i have a pickup order for bachrodt elementary school.”
the teenager at the register clicks a few buttons on his ipad, and then walks over to the pizza warmers, where he silently takes out ten pizzas, and places them on the counter. after he’s done, he just looks at you expectantly.
“do i… have to pay?” you ask. you’d been under the impression that the school had paid for them when they put in the order.
he looks down at his screen again, and when he looks back up at you, he’s shaking his head.
you just smile awkwardly at this silent worker, and start assessing how you’re going to get all ten pizzas in the car by yourself. your first thought is that you’re going to have to take multiple trips, but a quick glance down at your watch proves that that isn’t an option. the pizza party starts in fifteen minutes, and it’ll take you twelve to drive back to school. assuming, of course, that there’s no traffic.
one trip it is.
you’re so focused on trying to gather the pizzas as quickly and efficiently as possible that you don’t notice the presence next to you until words are spoken to you.
“need help?”
you let out a little gasp at the surprise, whipping around and coming face to face with none other than mack.
the late night target cutie.
“oh!” you smile despite yourself. “um… hi! what are you doing here?”
he glances around, amusement in his eyes, before saying: “ordering a pizza,”
“oh…” you laugh awkwardly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “nice!”
you facepalm mentally, and get back to gathering up your excessive amount of pizza boxes, trying not to freak out about the fact that the guy you haven’t been able to stop thinking about recently is standing right there in this random little caesar’s.
mack clears his throat. “do you need any help?” he repeats. “i’m uh… i’m waiting on a pizza. i can help you get those into your car if you’d like?”
you think about it for a few seconds. honestly, even though you’d love to spend a few more minutes with this handsome stranger, you’re not sure if you should. you don’t want to get your hopes up for anything, and you definitely don’t want to give your mind anything else to latch on to when you inevitably part from this handsome stranger.
but then you look down at your watch again. you don’t have enough time to deny help.
“sure,” you say, avoiding eye contact. you scoop up five of the pizzas, and turn to start heading back towards your car.
mack picks up the other five, and follows you out.
your car is right out front, and even though your keys are clutched in your fist, it’s still an awkward few seconds of you shifting both the pizzas in your arms and the keys in your hand to get everything in the optimal position to unlock your car. you stick the key in the lock, and then have to shuffle the door open to unlock the rest of them.
he speaks again as you’re trying to open the back door.
“another errand for school?”
you plop the pizzas down in your backseat and turn to look at him. “what?”
“well,” he slides next to you, arms brushing yours as he puts the other pizzas on the other seat so they don’t slide while you’re driving. when he’s done, he leans against your car and gives you the most adorable smile in the world. “the last time i saw you, you were getting pet dinos for your students. is this another thing for them, or have you just not eaten in a few days?”
you laugh, glancing at the ten pizzas in your backseat. of course this looks weird.
“another thing for my students,” you clarify. “they won a schoolwide reading challenge and earned a pizza party. my principal didn’t tell me that we had to pick them up, though, so i had to rush out before the party to get to them.”
mack smiles. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” he looks down for a few seconds, and when he looks up, his cheeks are pink. “i kinda thought i’d never see you again.”
“me too,” you admit, heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you.
his body angles towards yours just the tiniest bit more, and your mouth opens in surprise. in seconds, it feels like your entire world is wrapped around him, and all you want is to talk to him. get to know him. spend time with him. you’d been a little bit annoyed at him for buying your students’ dinosaurs, but it was more on the principle of the thing, of the worry that he would expect you to give him his number.
he hadn’t, though. when you’d brought it up, he’d walked away with no worries.
if he asked for your number right now, you would give it to him.
right as you have that thought, your phone pings.
it’s a text from allison. are you otw? kids are almost back from recess
“shit!” you exclaim. you look up at mack in surrpise, and slam your rear door closed, the sound startling both of you. “i’m so sorry, i have to go right now! thank you so much for your help!” you rush out, before opening your driver’s side door.
“of course,” mack says, still smiling but looking confused. “before you go, can i—”
you want to let him finish, but you can’t stop thinking about your kids coming back from recess and there being no pizza, so you don’t. you close the door, and make sure he’s stepped out of the way before driving off, awkwardly waving, cringing at yourself as you begin to head back to school.
twelve minutes later, you’re back at school. taking all the pizzas in by yourself makes you infinitely grateful for mack and his help in getting them out to the car. you were right, the kids were devastated when they came back in from recess and there was no pizza, but the looks of excitement and relief on their faces when you walked in holding them made you feel better, and made the rush worth it.
even though you’re so so glad that you go the pizza to the kids, you regret not taking the extra second to get mack’s number. you’d been hoping that he would ask you, but you should’ve just been brave and asked him yourself.
and now, you’re probably never going to see him again.
the third time you run into mack, you’re really not expecting to.
the san jose sharks, the local hockey team for your hometown of san jose, california, are coming to your school today. it’s part of the “reading is cool” program, since the kids at your school read so much, the principal and the director of the program set up a day where a few of the players are coming to read to the classes, and then there’s going to be a reading award ceremony later in the day.
to say that life has been a bit hectic would be an understatement.
your class spent the morning making sharkie the shark hats, decorating the hats themselves and writing their names on it so that it would be easier for the players. keeping the kids somewhat under control while waiting for the players to arrive is the worst part, with everyone jumping off the walls and talking loudly about who they’re most excited to meet.
since you’re student teaching in kindergarten, your class is one of the first to get read to.
you’d been told that the three players who were going to be coming were zack ostapchuk, will smith, and macklin celebrini.
of course you thought of mack when you heard the name, the guy that you’ve run into twice and walked away from each time without a phone number. since talking about him to your friends (and to allison, of course), you’ve kind of convinced yourself that he’s the love of your life, and you’ve lost all chance with him by leaving both times.
so while it would be great if the mack that you know is somehow a famous hockey player, you’re just not that lucky. sure, he looked like he could be one. definitely has the face of one. but there’s just no way.
no way.
and yet, when the door to your classroom opens, there he is.
mack.
you gasp, louder than you intend to, which catches the attention of allison and a few of your students. the kids forget quickly, cheering at the appearance of the professional hockey player, but allison doesn’t.
“what’s up?” she asks, sidling up to you and eyeing mack.
it takes you a few seconds to answer, watching as the kids swarm him, his soft smile as he looks at them. your heart is pounding in your chest, your mind running a mile a minute at seeing him here.
“it’s… him,” you mumble. “mack.”
it takes allison a few seconds of thinking before it clicks in her mind, and she lets out a loud gasp. “mack?” she asks. she then turns to you, squealing quietly, a huge smile on her face. “babe, this is amazing! not only have you been flirting with a professional hockey player, he’s here! you thought you were never gonna see him again! oh, how wonderful the universe is!”
you almost want to laugh at the irony of it all, at what a coincidence this is.
that’s when he looks up and sees you.
he freezes. like, quite literally goes from walking and looking around to standing stock still, staring at you with wide eyes, his jaw dropped. you smile, nervously biting your bottom lip and trying your best to be as casual and normal about this as possible.
“y/n?” he asks, starting to move towards you. you want to run towards him, say how happy you are to see him, apologize for how you’ve left both of the times that you’ve met, ask for his number right now.
and then you’re interrupted.
“you know miss y/n?” one of your kids, evie, asks loudly. “how?”
mack’s mouth opens again, eyes widening once again as many of your kindergarteners catch onto this and start bombarding the two of you with questions. you can see the panic begin to grow on his face, so you step in. you clap three times, and your students respond with three claps of their own.
“we met this morning,” you explain calmly. “everybody chill out and go sit on the carpet.”
your kids laugh and move towards the carpet, keeping their eyes on the hockey player still standing near the door. mack’s eyes haven’t left yours, fingers flexing at his sides, beginning to move towards you with small, hesitant steps.
distantly, you notice that allison has gone to the carpet to continue settling the kids down. there are people with cameras filing into the rooms, people adjusting microphones, setting up lighting. in minutes, your classroom is going to be a tv set, and even though that’s something that’s been bothering you for a few days, you’re not thinking about that right now. right now, you’re thinking about the fact that the guy you haven’t been able to stop thinking about, that you’ve accidentally run into twice, no three, times now, is standing right here. in your classroom.
“hi,” he breathes when you’re close enough.
“hi,” you echo, having to remind your lungs that they need air.
mack rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. “i, um… i didn’t think i’d see you here. today. i mean, i definitely wanted to see you again, definitely hoped i would, this is just… unexpected.”
you laugh. “it’s definitely unexpected.”
confusion crosses his face, and his tilts his head, reminding you of the cutest golden retriever in the world. “you… didn’t know? who i am?”
“no,” you shake your head. “i grew up in a football family, we’re big 49ers fans. i mean, i know of the sharks, but i’ve never… the point is, no, i didn’t know that you’re a professional hockey player.”
mack smiles, and lets out a little sigh. the look on his face can only be described as disbelief, and maybe even a little… relief?
he opens his mouth to say something else, but is interrupted by a very official-looking woman wearing a suit. she hands him a book and ushers him to the front of the room, sitting him down in one of the kindergarten-sized chairs, comically small when he’s sitting in it. as soon as he’s sat down, people start adjusting the lights, have him say a few words to test the microphones, and you and allison are left to do your own thing.
you stay standing where you are for a few minutes, watching as mack complies with the media people. he looks slightly uncomfortable whenever he looks out at the sea of kindergarteners in front of him, but he’s putting on a brave face.
after a bit, you move to the back of the room where allison is, and sit next to her, watching in awe as mack begins reading to your class.
the kids are enamored, never commenting or interrupting his reading at all, unlike how they are when you or allison read. they’re all staring at him, probably not listening to anything he’s saying, and more amazed at the fact that he’s actually in front of them. you know for a fact that a few of your kids are die hard sharks fans, so this is definitely the best day of their lives.
you can practically feel your eyes turning into hearts as mack gets visibly more comfortable with the whole situation the farther into the book he gets. you can’t stop looking at him, your heart fluttering every time his gaze flickers up from the book to look at you, cheeks reddening and a soft smile coming onto his face every time you make eye contact.
“please tell me you’re not letting him leave without your number,” allison whispers.
with great difficulty, you tear your eyes from mack. “i mean… i’m gonna try. but i don’t know if he even wants it.”
allison scoffs. “are you kidding? that boy is clearly into you.”
you smile. “i hope so.”
when he’s done reading, he opens the floor up for questions. there are a lot, and you have to go over to organize it all, because he initially just asks for questions, and twenty five little voices start yelling at him. you make them all raise their hands, and then it goes much smoother.
there’s a variety of questions. most are about him being a hockey player, some are about who he is personally. one of your kids asks what his favorite book is, and he says it’s the one he just read them. immediately after, every kid in your classroom starts declaring that book their favorite as well. you watch in real time as his heart soars at how excited they all are to have the same favorite book as him, at relating to the professional hockey player in some way. your smile widens at the sight.
you can’t believe he’s here.
the moment is so incredibly perfect, so heartwarming that you almost want to cry.
and that’s when you remember the cameras.
you’d been hesitant about this whole thing when you heard about it, because the very last thing any elementary school needs is a huge camera crew following around a bunch of professional hockey players. even though every parent in your class signed the waiver for their kids to be on tv, you’re still iffy about it. as a teacher, you really despise kids being on television and social media. if anyone had asked you about this, you would have said that it’s a nice thought, but there was a lot wrong with it. not only the huge cameras being carted around this school, filming the kids’ faces, but it’s also distracting to their learning. you and allison have no doubt that you’re going to get very minimal work done in the next few days because everybody’s going to be so wrapped up in talking about this, and dissecting every little moment of it.
of course, if you were a kid experiencing this, you’d do the same thing. but you’re not a kid, you’re a student teacher. so it’s going to be difficult.
and obviously, right as you remember the cameras, one of your kids decides to ask the worst question in the history of questions ever.
evie raises her hand, and mack calls on her.
“um, mr. celebrini,” you smile at the adorable way she addresses him. “are you and miss y/n gonna get married?”
the class gasps, and then explodes in excitement. “yeah! are you gonna get married?” olivia yells.
“are you gonna have babies?” jacob questions.
you and mack stare in horror at the barrage of questions, and all you can think about is the fact that the cameras are recording right now. hopefully, they won’t use this moment. you’ll go up to them later and beg them to delete it, because even though mack is cute and you’re hoping to start talking to him more regularly, you definitely don’t want a clip of your students asking if you’re going to have babies with this man going on the internet.
allison rushes over, quickly quieting the students, and reminding them to ask polite questions. they all have the grace to look chastised, and even though you’d love to stay up there with mack, you quickly move to the back of the classroom.
mack doesn’t stop looking up at you throughout the rest of the visit to your class, but he definitely tries to keep the looks short, because apparently your students are paying more attention than either of you thought they were.
you and mack share one more long look before he’s sent to the next classroom, his expression feeling like a promise, like a single word.
later.
trying to get your students to do anything productive for the rest of the day is a lost cause, but you and allison try your hardest. you make the quiet coyote signal with your fingers pretty much constantly, and only a few of your students even noice to try and point it out to their peers, but nothing really works. thankfully, there’s no drama between any of the students, so really, you and allison are grateful for that at least.
at the very end of the day, there’s an award ceremony where four students are honored for their reading. you and allison get your kids settled in their assigned spots on the gym floor, before going to stand at the back with all the other students. allison is already gossiping with her two teacher friends about how you and macklin celebrini have been running into each other and flirting. you try to get her to stop, but the other teachers are already too invested, and they’ve promised not to spread it around. thankfully, you believe them.
mack keeps glancing at you throughout the entire assembly, and you’re doing the same. you’re both trying to be subtle about it, and both failing miserably. allison notices it, obviously, and now that the other two teachers are informed of the situation, they notice, too. all three of them are giggling and whispering to each other, much to your amused chagrin.
at the end of the assembly, you start trying to help gather up the kids, but allison stops you.
“absolutely not,” she says, gently nudging you to where the three hockey players are chatting with the coordinator of the event. “i’ll get them. you go talk to him.”
and then, she’s gone. the gym empties fairly quick, leaving just the hockey players, a straggler class, and a few members of administration.
it’s unprofessional, you tell yourself. you’re a student teacher, this is no place to be looking for romance.
but….
you don’t allow the hesitation to kick in. the small group disperses right as you gather your courage, leaving macklin alone. you force your feet to move, until you’re standing right in front of him.
“hi,” you start.
mack chuckles. “hi again.”
you take a deep breath, looking into his pretty green eyes, feeling both calmer and more nervous making such intense eye contact, and force yourself to say it.
“um. can i have your phone number?”
he freezes for a few seconds, looking at you in pure shock. then you panic.
“i-if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine,” you start. “i totally get it. i’m a stranger, we’ve only met a few times, and i’ve been really weird every time we’ve talked, including right now, which is unfortunate. you probably think that i’m just doing this because you’re a professional hockey player, which totally isn’t true because i know nothing about hockey so i have nothing to gain by asking you for your number. i mean, not that i’m trying to gain anything, i just, i don’t know. i think you’re cute and sweet and i would love to hang out more, but if you’re not—”
your rambling is cut off by mack sticking his phone out.
“i’d love for you to have my number,” his voice is calm. “and i’d love to have yours.”
your mind quiets in an instant, a small smile covering your face as you reach for his phone, already open onto a blank contact. you type in your name and number, then hand it back.
“there’s a really good froyo place like… five minutes away,” you say softly. “if you give me ten minutes for the kids to get picked up, we could go get some.”
mack smiles. “i’d love that.”
it was a long road to get here, but you’re glad that you did. because even though you’ve been unbelievably weird in all three of your meetings with who you now know is macklin celebrini, he’s still interested in you.
the impromptu froyo date goes amazingly. you learn a lot about him and about hockey. you tell him about your life, how you got into teaching, what made you want to do it. you talk for hours, about everything and nothing.
it’s amazing.
you drive back to your apartment with a huge smile on your face, and one thought in your mind.
you need to start watching hockey.
a/n: holy doozy this is a fat fanfic 😸 this has lowk been my passion project for the last couple days, so i'm excited for it to be done! partially because i've been working on it so long that if i look at it for five more minutes i'm going to throw my computer, and partially because i can't wait for you guys to read it! thank you so much for the lovely request, thank you all for all the support! i love you all so much, have a wonderful day/night! <33
⟡ ݁₊ . ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ⋮ ᴍᴄ⁷¹
pairing. macklin celebrini x reader
macklin celebrini isn’t great at keeping secrets… except for the small detail that he’s been secretly dating his childhood best friend. but when a spring break trip to the maldives fills your social media pages with photos that look very couple-coded, the two of you decide it might finally be time to stop pretending you’re ‘just friends’.
warnings. secret relationship, best friends to lovers, fluff, vacation setting, minor online drama
face claim. mataya sweeting
side note. inspired by the song "wi$h li$t" by taylor swift !! also yes, i’m aware that hockey players don’t have a spring break... this is a purely self-indulgent smau. pls don’t forget to like, comment, and/or reblog 𑁤
yourusername girls just wanna have sun (first day in the maldives!) ☀️
tagged yourbffusername, macklincelebrini
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user1 finally spring break!!
user2 ok model ♥︎ liked by author
user3 goals 😋
user4 you're living the dream for real
user5 meanwhile i'm bed rotting on the couch 😄
user6 vacationing in the maldives looks so fun ♥︎ liked by author
macklincelebrini picture creds? ♥︎ liked by author
yourusername i literally tagged you 🙂 macklincelebrini oops i didn't see that ♥︎ liked by author yourbffusername too many braincells were knocked out during hockey season 😌 ♥︎ liked by author yourusername i'm starting to think so too
user7 best post on my feed today hands down
user8 so cool!
user9 love this so much 🥰🥰
user10 you look incredible!! ♥︎ liked by author
yourusername if heaven had a beach
tagged macklincelebrini
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user11 those pictures don't even look real
user12 yeahhh, for my sanity this photo dump is ai 🙂↔️
user13 interesting company you're keeping y/n
user14 does anyone else want to acknowledge the elephant in the room? 🤔
user15 awww baby sharks ♥︎ liked by author
user16 why are they holding hands.
user17 if this is a hard launch i will not survive ❌
macklincelebrini not a bad view at all ♥︎ liked by author
nopuckstogive macklin celebrini has made quite a few appearances in y/n l/n's recent instagram posts. bestie trip❔
tagged macklincelebrini, yourusername
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user18 literally the definition of don't be suspicious
user19 that's what they all say ✌️
user20 mhhhmmmm…
user21 i don't want to start rumors but it sure is hard not to when they're doing stuff like this ♥︎ liked by author
user22 "guys and girls cannot be platonic friends" or whatever the rule says 🤝
user23 interesting, interesting *jots down notes*
user24 they've known each other since they were like six years old. god forbid long time friends just want to take a trip together ♥︎ liked by author
user25 and yet they bicker like an old married couple 🤣
macklincelebrini might just settle down here forever ❤️
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user26 ohhhh okay... okay i see you
user27 macklin you are not slick. 😃
user28 slow your horses mack you've barely been in the nhl for 2 years and you already want to retire?
user29 it's the y/n effect, he wants to spend the rest of his life with her 💗💗
user30 i can hear the ynmack shippers breaking out of their straitjackets right now
yourusername bro discovered peace for the first time ♥︎ liked by author
user31 well no duh miss y/n it's bc of you macklincelebrini you literally begged me to cancel our plane tickets home 🤨 yourusername shut up ♥︎ liked by author
user32 mack wanting to live off the grid was not on my bingo card 👀
yourusername posted an Instagram story
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macklincelebrini replied to yourusername's Instagram story
i'm actually amazing, idk what you're talking about 🙇
yourusername taking a moment to appreciate the cuisine 🏝️🍍
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user33 omg my stomach just growled so loudly
user34 i wish i had a free bag of chips ughhh
macklincelebrini 5/10 but the company was great 🫶
yourusername aww thank you so much!!! macklincelebrini ouch i hate to break it to you, but i was actually talking about that toucan we saw at lunch yesterday... 😛 yourusername you're sleeping outside tonight. 🥹 macklincelebrini jeez i was just joking ♥︎ liked by author
user35 i need a food review stat
user36 lowkey this might be the only thing i needed to convince me to book a trip to the maldives... ✈️
user37 oh i bet the seafood is fire
user38 that plate is art ♥︎ liked by author
user39 the way i would demolish every single meal
user40 idk how you waited to take pics, i would've immediately jumped in and eaten the whole thing instantly 🤤 ♥︎ liked by author
macklincelebrini posted an Instagram story
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yourusername replied to macklincelebrini's Instagram story
only because your fingers kept covering the camera lens 😒
yourusername good surf, no hypocrites 🌊
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user41 beach days are everything 🏄♀️
user42 thank you for updating us because i'm living vicariously through these posts ♥︎ liked by author
user43 bucket list destination
user44 holy philosophical caption 🤓
macklincelebrini your whole instagram is flooded with pictures from this vacation ♥︎ liked by author
yourusername correct! that's how it should be
user45 all you need is good vibes and the sun
user46 you deserve this trip for sure, i'm so glad you're enjoying it 💕
yourbffusername take me along next time ♥︎ liked by author
yourusername i'm sorry, i miss you loads yourbffusername no dw it's not your fault i have exams ♥︎ liked by author yourusername okayyy i love you 💓
user47 slide 1 was definitely taken by mack
user48 i'm soooo jealous 😍
macklincelebrini spring break was lit 🔥🔥
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user49 OHHH I KNEW IT
user50 hockeytwt is about to explode 🤐
user51 ok everyone who said that y/nmack were just friends... waiting to hear your apologies...
user52 congratulations!!!! 🎉🎉
user53 i didn't even know y/n and mack were like that
user54 i mean the signs were there 😮💨
user55 10 years in the making!!
yourusername i got a best friend who i think is hot ♥︎ liked by author
macklincelebrini right back at you, beautiful user56 OH. I'M SICK TO MY STOMACH. STOP BEING SO CUTE. 😭😭
user57 this post better be pinned ♥︎ liked by author
up with you au | mc71
summary: the elevator brought them together. the hallway kept them close. and somewhere between bedtime stories and soft smiles, they fell in love - careful, quiet, and just right.
meet the celebrini family
pintrest board
fic masterlist:
floor 12
when she left
not yet
it felt like home anyway
two sleeps
i've seen it
you always do that
soft aftershock
the first time
the bravest girl in the condo
braver than you feel
it wasn't only the arm that broke
uncle will to the rescue
lights out
the important parts
blurbs and asks:
sweet mornings
post-shift
she's safe
uncle will survives
for us (and bunny)
never letting go
still uncle will
extra letters
almost
hold you close
home again
71's biggest fans
the quiet kind of love
scissors, glue, and something she couldn't finish
pink tulips
pinky promise
social media posts:
i told my mom
princesses
love
lucky
feel free to ask anything!
all posts are in chronological order!
scissors, glue, and something she couldn't finish | mc71
up with you au | requests are open/closed
word count: 1.0k
warnings: mother’s day project, classroom crafts, and a little girl realizing some questions don’t have easy answers - very soft, very quiet, might hurt a little in the chest
the classroom is louder than it usually feels.
not chaotic.
just… full.
paper rustling, kids talking over each other, scissors snipping, glue sticks rolling off desks.
normal.
but not to her.
charolette sits at her little table, hands folded in her lap instead of working.
in front of her -
pink construction paper.
a half-cut heart.
and a worksheet that says:
“all about my mom”
she hasn’t written anything.
not a word.
mrs. thomas kneels beside her, voice gentle, “do you want help, char?”
she shakes her head.
“…no.”
but her fingers twist together tighter.
around her, kids are talking.
“my mom likes coffee.”
“my mom is the best cooker ever.”
“i’m gonna give mine flowers!”
it’s not loud.
not mean.
just… constant.
char stares at the paper.
then down at her hands.
then back at the paper again.
“…i don’t know what to write,” she whispers.
mrs. thomas softens, “that’s okay. we can think together - who takes care of you at home?”
char’s throat feels tight, “...my dad”
“okay,” the teacher says gently, “we can write about him if you want -”
char shakes her head quickly.
too quickly.
“…no.”
because that’s not it.
it doesn’t feel right.
her eyes start to sting.
she presses her lips together, hard.
tries to blink it away.
but it doesn’t go away.
“…everyone has moms,” she whispers.
and it’s not a question.
mrs. thomas pauses.
just for a second.
then shifts closer.
“families can look different,” she says softly.
char nods.
she knows that.
she does.
but -
her chest still hurts.
“…i don’t know what to make,” she says, smaller now.
her hands are starting to shake just a little.
mrs. thomas notices.
“hey,” she murmurs, “we don’t have to finish this right now, okay?”
but char just stares at the paper.
because if she doesn’t finish -
then what does that mean?
her breathing gets uneven.
small.
quick.
“char?” mrs. thomas says gently.
but she’s already overwhelmed.
not crying loud.
not making a scene.
just… shutting down.
quiet.
too quiet.
---
the call comes mid-afternoon.
you’re the one who answers.
“hi, this is charlotte’s teacher…”
your stomach drops instantly.
“is everything okay?” you ask, already standing.
“she’s okay,” mrs. thomas reassures quickly, “she’s just a little overwhelmed today. we were working on a mother’s day project and -”
that’s all it takes.
you close your eyes for half a second.
“…we’ll come get her,” you say softly.
mack is already grabbing his keys.
he didn’t even need to hear the whole thing.
---
the classroom is quieter now when you arrive.
most of the kids are still working.
heads down.
focused.
char is sitting off to the side.
not crying.
just… still.
small.
your chest tightens immediately.
“hey, princess,” you murmur, crouching in front of her.
her head lifts.
and the second she sees you -
her face crumples.
not loud.
just… that silent kind of cry.
she stands and walks into you, arms wrapping around your neck.
tight.
you hold her instantly.
“i’ve got you,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to her hair.
mack stands close, one hand coming to her back, rubbing slow circles.
“hey, peanut,” he murmurs.
she doesn’t answer.
just buries herself deeper into you.
the teacher gives you a small, apologetic look.
you nod.
it’s okay.
you understand.
---
the car ride is quiet.
char sits in the back, clutching the sleeve of your hoodie you gave her before leaving.
you turned around in your seat just to reach her.
your hand still resting lightly on her knee.
mack keeps glancing in the mirror.
every few seconds.
just checking.
---
by the time you get home, she’s calmer.
but still quiet.
still thinking.
you sit with her on the couch, pulling her gently into your side.
she goes without hesitation.
tucks herself in like she always does.
mack sits on the other side, close.
steady.
“do you wanna tell us what happened?” you ask softly.
she shrugs.
“…we had to make something.”
you nod, “for mother’s day?”
she nods.
“…i didn’t know what to do.”
your chest aches.
mack’s hand comes to her back again.
slow.
grounding.
“that makes sense,” mack says gently, “that’s a hard thing to figure out.”
she nods, staring down at her hands.
“…everyone was talking about their moms,” she whispers.
you don’t interrupt.
you let her say it.
“…and i didn’t know what to say.”
your hand tightens just slightly around hers.
“yeah,” you murmur, “that would feel really confusing.”
there’s a pause.
then -
“…can i make one for you?” she asks.
so quiet.
like she’s not sure she’s allowed.
your breath catches.
completely.
you look at her.
really look at her.
“…only if that’s what you want,” you say softly.
you don’t take it.
don’t assume.
just offer.
mack is watching you like he’s holding his breath.
char looks up at you.
eyes still a little glassy.
“…i want to,” she says.
and that’s it.
that’s everything.
you nod slowly, your hand coming up to brush her hair back.
“then i would really, really love that,” you whisper.
she nods.
leans into you again.
softer this time.
less overwhelmed.
mack exhales beside you, his hand settling over both of you.
holding.
anchoring.
“…we can help you,” he adds quietly, “if you want.”
she nods again.
and for the first time since you got there -
she looks okay.
not fixed.
but steady.
safe.
understood.
---
later that night, when you help her finish it at the kitchen table -
she writes carefully.
tongue peeking out just a little.
“my mom likes braiding my hair.”
you have to look away for a second.
because your vision blurs too much to read the rest.
mack notices.
of course he does.
his hand finds yours under the table.
squeezes once.
and doesn’t let go.
in honour of connor bedard extension I would like to point out that 3/6 of the photos on his insta dump are from him helping kids. most players post highlight photos of them in gear, or with teammates, which connor did, but literally half of his photos are about the community.
and that's just so on brand for everything I know about him? its all of the every shift clips where he's awkwardly ribbing at the kids because he wants to make convo but doesn't know how ("actress? like best looking actress?" like come ON). it's the way that he's mentioned giving his number to macklin celebrini and gavin mckenna to talk about 1oa stuff, and mack mentioned talking to connor about contract stuff during his exit interview (8:34 timestamp). it's the way that connor and fraser minten visited mavrik (a 3yo who had neuroblastoma) to cheer him up because his family said he loved nhl players. its the way that there's endless photos and videos of him stopping and signing things, even if he looks tired, especially for kids. that one vid where he's walking down the tunnel and all the kids in his jersey are reaching out for him? the way he was always playing around with fliggy's kids?
idk idk idk but what i'm saying is that i bet that when he was younger, someone told him that he should be grateful for what he has, and he really took it to heart. he doesn't take hockey for granted; he always wants to practice (read: that article where he was begging to get back on the ice after jaw surgery). his first words after he got drafted were "thank you, i love you" to his family. he's always trying to take up a mentorship position and share his knowledge. and he. loves. kids.
and I love that about him. I love that he likes being taken care of, and that in turn, he likes taking care of others. I love that he wants to have that responsibility, and that he takes it seriously. I love that he's on my team. its easy to be a blackhawks fan when he's there to support and I'm so glad we get him for 5 more years. he's gonna be captain one day, and this post is just a small shred of proof that he's gonna be really, really good at it. happy extension, connor, I'm proud to be your fan :D
identity fraud | will smith social media au
pairing: will smith x fem podcaster reader
big podcaster y/n thought she was getting will smith on the podcast... who is will smith hockey and is that his government name?
yourusername
liked by macklincelebrini, emmachamberlain and 603,594 others
yourusername: last min podcast ep being recorded todayyyyyyyy, get ready for some pure nonsense
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user1 i love gal but there's no way it's actually will smith right?
yourusername you doubt my ability to serve?
user2 tell them queen !
macklincelebrini @_willsmith2 you are FUCKED buddy
_willsmith2 shushing you
_willsmith2 im cradling my fragile ego
macklincelebrini oh boy is she in for some disappointment - you hate to see it
_willsmith2 'will we've got something great for you to do while you're injured' i'm NEVER listening to PR again
macklincelebrini well this could be your one and only chance!
_willsmith2 SHUSHING YOU EVEN LOUDER
user3 oh boy
user4 will smith hockey you are dear to me but this is incredibly funny
user5 this might push him to the edge
macklincelebrini he's already there
user6 the way @yourusername is blissfully unaware that she's interviewing will smith hockey today and that she's also ruined his life
yourusername what is all this yapping
yourusername who is 'will smith hockey' ?
_willsmith2 brb killing myself
yourusername HELLO ?
_willsmith2 i am the will smith who plays hockey who is also in an uber to your studio right now
yourusername ???
yourusername so i just watched that bum ass netflix movie for no fucking reason
yourusername and need to google your lore?
_willsmith2 i mean you'll have the literal source of all lore with you shortly?
yourusername what the hell sure
_willsmith2
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_willsmith2: fresh prince of san jose or whatever the pretty girl wants to call me
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user11 bro has unlocked the cat subplot of the soft launch
user12 can it be a soft launch if he basically proclaimed his love for her on her podcast?
user13 it was borderline embarrassing
user14 he's lucky she found it charming i guess
_willsmith2 you guys finished yet?
macklincelebrini wait let me join in
_willsmith2 i think you've done enough buddy
user15 he's getting whacked from all angles
user16 toff isn't here yet either
yourusername that's like such a good nickname, whoever gave it to you must be really funny
_willsmith2 and pretty!
_willsmith2 the prettiest actually
yourusername so i'm just a pretty face to you huh?
_willsmith2 NO
_willsmith2 I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU
yourusername so i'm ugly, that's what you're saying?
_willsmith2 NUH UH
yourusername you hate me :(
_willsmith2 please you're really stressing me out
yourusername fine!
yourusername i'll let you cuddle tonight, even if you don't think i'm pretty
_willsmith2 yo i'm gonna fucking throw up PLEASE
user17 jesus christ
user18 and i thought the podcast would be the most embarrassing thing this month but he outdid himself!
tofff73 @yourusername we're keeping you this is so much fun
yourusername who gave you that authority old man ???
_willsmith2 finally someone else is being bullied
yourusername it's important you know i'm bullying toff, but i was flirting with you
_willsmith2 oh!
yourusername
liked by tofff73, macklincelebrini and 603,586 others
tagged: _willsmith2
yourusername: never so glad to be a victim of someone's identity fraud
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user20 the way he will like never ever live this down
user21 if they get married this is being mentioned for sure
_willsmith2 *when
user22 girl it's been a month
_willsmith2 and yall wonder why loverboys are going extinct
tofff73 it should be illegal to be this fucking gross, this kid can't stop breaking laws
_willsmith2 IT WASN'T ME IT WAS PR
sanjosesharks why are you saying fuck me for ?
yourusername it worked out this time but yall set him up for real
sanjosesharks YOU COULD'VE GOOGLED WHO EMAILED YOU BEFORE AGREEING
yourusername i thought this was a corporate account why are you arguing back ???
sanjosesharks we will in cases of SLANDER
tofff73 so many laws being broken
yourusername you should've attached a picture of will to the email and i defo would've googled yall
_willsmith2 oh! yay :)
macklincelebrini you guys won't forget about me right?
macklincelebrini RIGHT?
yourusername never! you're like our little stray cat
macklincelebrini excuse me! i am TOUGH! i got into a fight for will :(
yourusername and you also asked to cuddle with us last night
_willsmith2 tbf i didn't see you saying no
user23 she's getting the full willmack experience omg
user24 green with jealousy xx
yourusername you shouldn't be because they both drool in their sleep
_willsmith2 drooling over you? ... your pretty face?
macklincelebrini i ain't got an excuse you guys are just comfy
yourusername right!
note: not pictured here: me whenever i mention will to my parents who don't follow hockey at all and they deadass think i'm talking about will smith
BUTTERFINGERS WILL SMITH
pairing: fem!reader x will smith
summary: will's quiet protectiveness over you begins to make you feel as though he's more than a friend.
warnings: will getting injured, friends to lovers, reader being a butterfingers/clumsy, bit of language
wc: 2.89k
notes: i can't get over will just automatically protecting you from things and just knowing you're going to bump your head or drop something.
Will had silently taken on the role of guardian against your own clumsiness.
As he got to know you, Will observed your accident-prone habits — the way you would unknowingly leave cabinet doors open at forehead level, how your phone always seemed to be on the verge of slipping from your grasp, and the countless times you misjudged the distance between your toe and the corner of the coffee table. He adapted in subtle, almost imperceptible ways, weaving his quiet vigilance into the rhythm of daily life.
At first, it was little things. He’d casually nudge a cup away from the table’s edge when you weren’t looking or intercept your phone mid-fall with reflexes so swift it seemed like a coincidence. If you were carrying too many things at once, he’d wordlessly take the heavier items from your hands before you had the chance to protest — or inevitably drop something.
Over time, his protective instincts became second nature. He walked slightly ahead of you when you were distracted, steering you gently away from uneven pavement or sudden steps. He started keeping a steadying hand near your back when you climbed stairs, ready to catch you if your balance faltered. Whenever you cooked, he subtly repositioned knives and hot pans out of your unknowing danger zone, and if you reached for something on a high shelf, he was already there, retrieving it before you had the chance to teeter on your tiptoes precariously
Even his speech patterns adjusted. A soft “watch your step” would precede any tricky curb, and a quiet “careful” would slip from his lips whenever you absentmindedly swung your arms too close to a fragile object. He never made a big deal out of it, never teased or sighed in exasperation. He simply adapted — anticipating, adjusting, protecting.
And perhaps the most telling thing of all was how effortless it became for him. As if watching over you wasn’t a responsibility, but rather something as natural as breathing.
At first, you didn’t think much of it. Will was observant by nature, careful in a way that contrasted your absentminded chaos, so his small interventions felt like an extension of who he was rather than something particular to you. But then, you began to notice — really notice.
Like the way he always positioned himself between you and the street when you walked together, his body a quiet barrier against the rush of passing cars. Or the way he would always get the door for you, seeing as you always get it wrong — pulling it when it’s a push, or pushing it when it’s a pull, which always resulted in you smacking into the door.
It wasn’t just his actions, but the way they made you feel. Safe. Not in the dramatic, swept-off-your-feet kind of way, but in the quiet, steady assurance that came with knowing someone was looking out for you — not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
And that was the thing about Will. He never laughed when you tripped over nothing or sighed when you dropped your phone for the millionth time, resulting in a new crack on your screen. He didn’t roll his eyes when you forgot where you put your keys for the third time in a day. Instead, he’d hand them to you with a soft “found them,” and a small, knowing smile that never held an ounce of exasperation.
The realization crept in slowly, unfurling in the space between his gestures and your awareness of them. You started looking forward to the little moments — the quiet steadiness of his presence, the way he never made you feel like a burden, never made your clumsiness into a punchline.
And then, one evening, it hit you.
Will and Macklin were set to go to a Warriors game, but last minute the younger Shark bailed on him in favour of a date. Will, not wanting to skip the game, asked you if you wanted to come. Basketball was never your chosen sport of interest, but you knew how badly Will wanted to go, so you agreed.
You were sitting in front of your vanity, curling wand in hand, rushing to finish your hair. Will was standing next to you, arms crossed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he huffed dramatically. “How long does it take to curl hair? I mean, we’re gonna miss tip-off at this rate.”
“Relax, we have plenty of time,” you said distractedly. For Will, it was like it happened in slow motion. He watched as your hand went to grab the curling iron, only to be reaching for the barrel instead of the handle. His hand darted in before yours, grabbing the barrel and pulling it out of your grasp.
Will only realized what he had done when it was too late, the burning sensation seeping into his skin. His face contorted in pain as he pulled his hand back sharply, letting out a sharp, involuntary scream. You turned in alarm, dropping the curling wand onto the vanity as you watched him clutch his hand, the raw redness already starting to form across his palm.
“What the hell, Will?” you shouted, the surprise and panic evident in your voice. You stood up, your hands trembling as you instinctively reached for his hand, wanting to help but not sure how. “Why the fuck did you grab my curling wand?”
He grimaced, his teeth gritted, but he managed a strained chuckle, his voice laced with guilt. “You were about to burn yourself,” he said simply as if that explained everything.
You blinked, momentarily stunned. You hadn’t even realized what had happened until he had grabbed the hot barrel. You’d been so caught up in finishing your hair, your mind swirling with thoughts of getting to the game, that you hadn’t even noticed your near mishap.
“You saw that?” you asked, your voice softer now, the edge of anger replaced with surprise. “You noticed I was about to—?”
He winced, clearly trying to mask the pain, but there was a hint of warmth in his eyes. “Of course I did,” he said quietly. “You do that a lot. Always rushing, not paying attention.” He gave a small shake of his head, looking almost apologetic. “I don’t know. It just… it’s instinct, I guess.”
You stared at him, trying to process his words. Will had always been observant, but this was something else entirely — a silent, steady vigilance that you’d never fully understood. He’d always been there, quietly anticipating your missteps, but you hadn’t realized just how much of it was rooted in a kind of protective instinct.
Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his expression, the way he held his injured hand close to his body, still trying to hide his discomfort for your sake.
You guided him carefully toward the kitchen, your heart pounding with a mixture of concern and confusion. He let you lead him, his steps slow as he held his injured hand away from his body like it was too fragile to touch anything. Once you reached the sink, you turned on the cold water, the rush of it filling the air.
Will stood beside you, watching you with a calmness that made your chest tighten with guilt. You helped him ease his hand under the water, the cold liquid hissing as it met the burn. He flinched for just a second, but then the chill seemed to soothe him, and he let out a soft breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment.
You reached over to gently hold his wrist, guiding it more carefully into the stream of water. The contact was subtle but felt significant—your fingers wrapping around his, steadying him as the water washed away the heat. There was an odd intimacy to the moment, something quietly tender in the way you were taking care of him, something that made your heart thud louder than it had any right to.
“How did you know?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual as you glanced at him, your eyes searching for answers. “How did you know I was going to grab the barrel?”
Will didn’t immediately respond, his gaze still focused on his hand, the water dripping off his fingers. He shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint, almost apologetic smile. “I just saw it coming,” he said, his voice low. “You were distracted, reaching for something hot. I… I could just tell.”
His gaze flickered toward you then, catching your eyes for the briefest of moments. “You’ve got a tendency to forget, y’know,” he added.
You couldn’t help but shake your head, a laugh escaping you that was both incredulous and full of affection. “You always seem to notice these things. It’s like you’re… watching me.”
Will’s expression shifted, something unspoken flashing in his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just staring down at his hand under the water. He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, but you could feel the weight of his silence. It wasn’t just concern you were sensing now; it was something deeper, something that made your heart flutter uncertainly in your chest.
“Why do you always notice?” you pressed gently, not quite sure where the question was leading but needing to understand. “It’s like you’re always one step ahead, always catching things before I do.”
Will’s shoulders shifted under the weight of your question, and he let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. “I don’t know,” he said after a beat, his words almost too soft to catch. “I guess… I guess I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
There it was. The reason behind the actions that had always seemed so natural to him, so effortless. Will was watching, not just because he could, but because he cared. It wasn’t just observation — it was protection. He had quietly, unknowingly taken on the role of your guardian in a way that you had never even noticed.
He cared.
The weight of that simple, unspoken confession made your stomach flip, but before you could fully process it, something impulsive and raw surged up inside you. You closed the distance between you and Will, your heart racing with an intensity that felt as though it could pull you apart. In an instant, before either of you could think it through, you kissed him.
The shock hit both of you at the same time — his breath catching in his throat as your lips met his, both of you stilling for a moment, like the world had suddenly paused. The soft warmth of his mouth against yours was everything you didn’t expect but everything you needed. And just as quickly, the fear of what you’d just done flooded in.
You pulled away, wide-eyed, the breath between you ragged. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—what the hell was that?” you stammered, a forced chuckle leaving your lips. Your face heated up as you scrambled to explain. “I—I don’t know what came over me. You just… I don’t know. I just—” You trailed off, unable to form the words to explain how his quiet care had wrapped itself around you, how you felt like the luckiest person alive just to be near him, to have him protect you without ever making you feel like a burden.
“I—I was just so touched, Will. By everything you’ve done, the way you look out for me. You’re—” Your voice faltered, the words feeling clumsy as you tried to express what you were feeling. “You’re one of the only people who doesn’t make fun of me for being so… clumsy. For being me.”
You stared down at your hands, suddenly embarrassed by the vulnerability of the confession.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft sound of your breathing, mingled with the sound of the water still running. Then, before you could continue apologizing or retreating into a wave of mortification, Will cut you off.
He leaned forward, dipping his head down so his lips could brush against yours again. The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, but quickly deepened, and all the awkwardness from before melted away. His hand found its way to your cheek, his fingers warm and sure as they cupped your face, the gesture filled with a softness that made your chest ache.
You both pulled away again, your breath mingling together in the small gap of space that remained between you two. The air was thick, not with tension, but with the words that had yet to be said.
His voice was low and slightly rough as he spoke, the words a whisper that seemed to settle between the two of you, making everything feel incredibly intimate. “I don’t know why I do it,” he said, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheek as if he were trying to memorize the feeling of you. “But every time I see you about to get hurt — whether it's something big or small — there’s this… this urge to protect you. To make sure you’re okay. It’s just… instinct, I guess, like you said.” He paused, his eyes flickering over your face, searching, before his gaze softened. “But it’s more than that. It’s not just about keeping you safe. It’s about… caring.”
Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, and for a moment, you were speechless. You had always known there was something different about the way Will looked after you, but hearing it from him, in his own words, made it all the more real.
“Will…” you started, your voice trembling just slightly, unsure if your own feelings could measure up to the tenderness he was offering. You took a deep breath before continuing. “I—I care about you too. More than I’ve ever let myself admit.” Your hands found their way to his shirt, the fabric beneath your fingers grounding you in the present. “The way you protect me, it’s not just that you’re looking out for me. It’s that… it’s that you make me feel seen. You make me feel like I’m not… a nuisance. Like you actually want to be here. I’ve never felt that way with anyone else.”
There was a pause, just long enough for your words to hang in the air between you. Will’s gaze softened, his uninjured hand leaving your cheek to rest over yours, gently prying your fingers away from his shirt only to intertwine them with his own.
“You’re not a nuisance,” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes held something deeper, something more raw. “I want to be here, with you. Not just for your clumsiness, not just to catch you when you fall. But because…” He swallowed, the words suddenly feeling heavier on his tongue. “Because I’ve been falling for you too. And I don’t want to stop.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and your chest tightened with a mix of relief and disbelief. All of the moments — the small gestures, the quiet care — suddenly made sense. Will had been there, not just as your protector, but as someone who had quietly, unknowingly, built a foundation for something more.
“I didn’t think you’d feel the same,” you whispered, your voice vulnerable. “I thought maybe I was just… someone you looked after. But I want this too, Will. I want… us. If you’re still okay with that.”
Will’s smile was soft and sincere, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. He gently cupped your face again, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before speaking again.
“I’m more than okay with that,” he said, his voice steady, now filled with a quiet confidence.
You looked up at him, leaning in to connect your lips once again. But just as the kiss deepened, Will’s hand moved instinctively, like it had so many times before, to cup your face. Only this time, something was different. The faint sting of his burn flared as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your cheek, and he pulled back with a sharp inhale, wincing slightly.
“Fuck, that still hurts.” he hissed, his hand withdrawing from your face. Will shook his hand as if that would make the pain magically fall away.
“Who’s the clumsy one now?” you said, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips, trying to break any remaining tension between you two.
Will chuckled, though the pain in his hand still lingered. His eyes softened, a quiet amusement flickering across his features as he met your gaze. “Guess it’s me,” he said, his voice light, yet full of affection.
You couldn’t help but smile back, the warmth between you both settling into something easy and comfortable. The air that had once been thick with unspoken words now felt clear and open. The kiss, the confessions — everything was still fresh, but it was right, in a way that neither of you could deny.
“I think we should get to that game before either of us ends up more injured than we already are,” you teased, a playful spark in your eyes.
Will grinned, his usual protective instinct settling back in as he offered you his good hand. “Let's go,” he said, squeezing your hand.
And as you both walked out the door together, the world felt a little less dangerous.
close to you - w. eklund
12k | w.eklund x fem!oc | w.smith & m.celebrini x oc platonic
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Summary: the sharks have a new social media intern and immediately the two young rookies stake their claim on her as their "adopted older sister". the three were always attached at the hip. when william eklund meets the new girl, hes immediately smitten by her. the only issue? he's too shy to do anything about it.
masterlist | series masterlist
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
If June Johnson had any illusions about starting a calm, professional internship with the San Jose Sharks, they were completely shattered the moment she stepped into the dressing room. She wasn't new to social media—she had spent years running accounts for small businesses, university sports teams, and even a short stint with a junior hockey club. But this? This was different.
This was the NHL.
And the NHL, apparently, came with an unspoken initiation involving two overly energetic rookies and a locker room full of chaos. She had barely set foot inside before she was noticed.
"Wait, you're new." Macklin Celebrini, the Sharks' golden boy, stood in front of her with a curious expression, his practice jersey half on, his skates still untied. Before she could respond, another voice piped up.
"Yeah, dude, she literally just walked in," said Will Smith, his grin wide, blonde hair slightly damp from morning skate. June barely had time to introduce herself before Will and Macklin had already formed a huddle, whispering loudly enough for the entire room to hear.
"Alright, what's the bet?" Will muttered dramatically. "How long do we think before she quits?"
"Oh my god." June rolled her eyes. "I'm literally standing right here." Macklin hummed, rubbing his chin as if he were deep in thought. "I give her three weeks."
"Three weeks?" Will scoffed. "Nah, she looks tough. I say she lasts a month." June crossed her arms. "You guys do realize I control the social media accounts, right? I can absolutely mute you both from existence."
Macklin's eyes widened. "You wouldn't." Will gasped. "That's... I didn't think of that." June smirked. "Try me."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if she had passed some unspoken test, Macklin and Will immediately abandoned their "bet" and turned their attention to grilling her instead. "Alright, but for real," Macklin leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "You actually want to work here?"
June shot him a look. "Yes? Why, should I be concerned?" Will grinned. "Let's just say... we're a little much." June snorted. "Oh, I've noticed." That was when Mario Ferraro, one of the veteran defensemen, wandered over with a laugh. "You'll get used to them."
"Will I?" Mario patted her shoulder. "Probably not."
Despite Macklin and Will's warnings, June quickly settled into her role. Her first few days were a whirlwind of learning the ropes, familiarizing herself with the Sharks' social media strategy, and—most importantly—figuring out how to handle the absolute disaster that was the team's young core. It didn't take long for Macklin and Will to adopt her as one of their own. At some point, she had unknowingly become their unofficial babysitter. They followed her around like lost puppies, insisted on helping her gather content, and were constantly dragging her into their antics. By day three, she had already been roped into filming a TikTok where the two of them attempted a viral dance trend.
Spoiler: it did not go well.
"I swear, we had it perfect before you hit record," Will complained, shaking out his hands as Macklin groaned beside him. June snorted. "Sure you did." Macklin narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you going to be this sassy all season?"
"Oh, absolutely." Will grinned. "I like her."
But June quickly realized that handling these two was only part of the challenge—because the rest of the team wasn't any better. She had planned to ease into things, maybe take a few weeks before jumping headfirst into recording the "random question of the day" segment.
Yeah. That plan lasted all of five minutes.
The second Logan Couture spotted her with the team's media camera, he nudged Tomas Hertl. "Bet she asks something ridiculous." Tomas, grinning, turned to her. "First question, let's go."
June hesitated, flipping through her mental list of backup prompts before blurting out, "Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?" The room erupted.
"Oh, that's a good one."
"Wait, do we get weapons?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Absolutely taking the duck-sized horses."
"Are you crazy? The horse-sized duck would kill you."
June blinked as chaos ensued. "...So I take it this is a success?" Mario nodded solemnly. "You're going to fit in just fine."
By the end of her first week, June had established herself as more than just the new intern—she was officially part of the team's day-to-day chaos. She had already lost count of how many times Macklin and Will had dragged her into some ridiculous argument (the most recent one being about whether or not cereal counted as soup). She had also learned that Henry Thrun would agree to any TikTok challenge if you dared him, and that Noah Gregor was terrifyingly good at coming up with completely random, borderline unhinged facts about obscure animals.
Most importantly, she learned that despite their antics, these guys weren't just a team—they were a family. And as much as she had expected to feel like an outsider, June realized something as she sat in the locker room, laughing at yet another one of Will's dumb ideas: She was already part of it.
⸻By the time June's second week rolled around, she had fully accepted her fate. She wasn't just the Sharks' new social media intern. She was now the official (unofficial) babysitter of two NHL rookies who had way too much energy and way too little supervision. Her schedule? Completely dictated by Macklin and Will. Her daily tasks? Constantly interrupted by their antics. Her peace and sanity? Gone.
And the worst part? She didn't even mind.
June had just walked into the practice facility when she heard it. "Junie! HELP!"
She barely had time to process before Macklin came barreling toward her. She dodged out of the way just in time to see Will chasing after him, waving what looked like—was that a half-eaten protein bar?
"You're a menace to society!" Will shouted. "How do you not like peanut butter?!"
"It's disgusting!" Macklin yelled back, jumping behind June for cover. June, half-awake, pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's literally eight in the morning."
"He called peanut butter MID!" Will exclaimed, shoving the evidence (a protein bar wrapper) in her face. "This is a CRIME, June. A CRIME." Macklin peeked out from behind her. "Are you seriously telling me peanut butter is top-tier? Grow up."
"GROW UP?!" And just like that, they were arguing again. June sighed, stepping around them to grab her morning coffee from the media lounge. "I'm too tired for this." She had barely taken her first sip when Logan Couture walked by, shaking his head. "Still want the job?"
June took a long, dramatic sip of her coffee before deadpanning, "I've made my peace with it." Logan smirked. "Good answer."
The thing about Macklin and Will was that they had absolutely no chill. If June thought they had been bad the first week, she completely underestimated just how much worse it could get. They followed her everywhere. They never let her work in peace. They somehow managed to turn every single day into some kind of ridiculous event.
Exhibit A: June had been setting up a behind-the-scenes TikTok, casually filming players walking into practice, when Macklin and Will sprinted into the frame—dramatically sliding in on their socks like they were action movie stars. She barely had time to react before they started posing. "Mack, hit 'em with the Zoolander." Macklin turned to the camera and gave his best Blue Steel impression.
"Oh my god," June muttered. "We're naturals," Will declared, tossing an arm over Macklin's shoulder. "Should we be influencers?" June deadpanned. "Absolutely not."
"Okay, rude."
Exhibit B: June was setting up a mic for a player interview when she felt something land on her head. She immediately knew who was responsible. "Will," she said slowly, reaching up to remove the hockey tape ball that had just been thrown at her. Will, sitting across the room, looked way too innocent. "What?" he said, blinking at her. "That could've been anyone."
June narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
"Really." From beside him, Macklin was struggling not to laugh. "You're lucky I like my job," June muttered, tossing the paper back at him. Will caught it easily, grinning. "You love us." June rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "Debatable."
It took approximately zero days for the rest of the team to notice just how much time Macklin and Will spent following June around. "They have imprinted on her," Henry Thrun declared during a team meeting. Mario Ferraro nodded solemnly. "She's like their pack leader now."
"I give it a week before she starts bringing them snacks like a hockey mom," Tyler Toffoli joked. The worst part was that June heard all of this.
"You guys are talking like I'm not right here," she pointed out, arms crossed. "Oh, we know," Logan said, smirking. "We just think it's funny." June rolled her eyes. "They're not that bad." That was when Macklin and Will—who had been wrestling over a Gatorade bottle like literal children—accidentally knocked over an entire stack of towels. Everyone turned to her.
June sighed. "Okay, fine, they're a little bad."
By the time practice ended, June was exhausted. Not from the work—no, she could handle that. She was exhausted from babysitting two grown hockey players. As she sat in the lounge, sipping on what had to be her third coffee of the day, she suddenly felt two shadows looming over her.
"Junie." She sighed. "What do you want now?"
Macklin plopped down beside her, grinning. "Just saying hi." Will flopped into the chair on her other side. "We missed you." June gave them a look. "I literally saw you guys an hour ago." Will shrugged. "Yeah, but still." June groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto the table. "I give up." Macklin patted her shoulder. "It's okay. We love you too."
And that's when it hit her. Somehow, without even trying, she had become one of them.
⸻June Johnson was used to chaos by now. She had accepted that working for the San Jose Sharks meant zero peace and infinite amounts of babysitting two overgrown children (Macklin and Will) on a daily basis. But what she hadn't accounted for?
William Eklund.
She had heard his name before—obviously. He was one of the team's top young players, constantly hyped up by the media, and apparently the "responsible" one out of all the rookies. That was a lie. Because when she finally met him? He was the opposite of put-together. In fact, he completely malfunctioned.
June was minding her own business, setting up a camera for a post-practice TikTok, when she felt it. The weirdest, most intense stare from across the room. At first, she ignored it, assuming it was just one of the guys zoning out. But then she heard a very distinct choking noise. She turned—only to find William Eklund standing a few feet away, frozen, wide-eyed, and looking like he had just forgotten how to breathe.
"...Uh," June blinked. "Are you okay?"
William made a sound that was definitely not human. Then, instead of speaking like a normal person, he just kept staring. Like, full-on deer-in-the-headlights staring. It was so bad that even Macklin noticed.
"Yo, Eky," Macklin called, waving a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Eky?"
William didn't respond. He just continued looking at June like she was a mythical creature. Macklin and Will exchanged glances. Then Will, ever the troublemaker, grinned.
"Oh my god," he whispered. "He's starstruck." Macklin's eyes widened. "No way."
June, completely lost, looked between them. "What?" Will beamed. "Oh, this is amazing." At that moment, William finally snapped out of his trance—only to immediately panic.
"Vad i helvete," he blurted out. June frowned. "What?" William visibly cringed. Then, because his brain was apparently not functioning, he started nervously rambling.
"Uh—I—hi," he stuttered. "You're—you're—um."
"Oh my god," Will whispered. "He's broken." Macklin gasped. "Did we just witness love at first sight?"
William immediately turned bright red. "Nej! Sluta!" June tilted her head. "I don't speak Swedish, but that sounded defensive." That only made him more flustered.
Macklin doubled over laughing. "He's panicking! He's literally panicking!" William looked so done. June, still completely out of the loop, crossed her arms. "Okay, can someone explain what's happening?" Will grinned. "Oh, nothing."
"Except that Eky," Macklin added, "is down bad." June raised an eyebrow. "Down bad?"
William groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Jag hatar det här." The second William left the room, Macklin and Will lost their minds.
"This is the best day of my life," Will announced. "I have never seen Eky lose his cool like that."
June, still confused, took a sip of her coffee. "So what you're telling me is..." She pointed toward the door William had just fled through. "That guy just had a meltdown because of me?"
"Oh, absolutely."
"A hundred percent."
June frowned. "But why?" Will grinned. "Because he's so in love with you." June choked on her coffee. "EXCUSE ME?"
Macklin nodded seriously. "It's true." Will gestured toward the hallway. "I mean, did you see that? You literally broke him Junie."
"That was not normal behavior," Macklin agreed. "Oh," Macklin said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "This is gonna be fun."
⸻William was dying.
He had locked himself in the players' lounge, pacing back and forth like a man on the verge of a crisis. Which, to be fair, he was. He had completely embarrassed himself. He had made a fool of himself in front of June. He was never going to live this down. And the worst part? He still hadn't said an actual sentence to her. Instead, he had just... malfunctioned. Because apparently, his brain stopped working whenever June was around. This was a disaster. A complete, total disaster. And William had no idea how he was going to survive the rest of the season.
⸻June Johnson wasn't the type to take things personally. She had thick skin, a sharp sense of humour, and enough patience to deal with Macklin and Will on a daily basis. But even she had her limits. And right now? She was absolutely convinced that William Eklund hated her. It started immediately after their first meeting. At first, she chalked it up to coincidence. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he had a lot on his mind.
But by the third day? She noticed. Because every time she set up her camera for a TikTok, William suddenly disappeared. And it wasn't subtle. It was full-on, "I see June and immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction" avoidance.
Like today. She had just finished setting up her phone for a new round of "Question of the Day" when she spotted William across the room. She raised a hand to wave. His eyes went wide. And then? He turned and booked it. Like, actual Olympic-level sprinting.
June blinked. "...Did he just run away from me?" Will, standing beside her, cackled. "Oh yeah," he said, grinning. "He totally did." June frowned. "Okay, what is his deal?" Macklin, sitting nearby, hummed in amusement. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," June gestured vaguely toward the door William had just escaped through, "he keeps avoiding me." Will snorted. "Yeah. And?"
"And—!" June huffed. "What did I do?" Macklin and Will exchanged glances. Then they grinned. "Oh," Macklin said innocently. "I'm sure it's nothing."
It wasn't just the dodging. No, because apparently whenever William couldn't escape in time, he had another reaction. He turned bright red. It happened constantly.
The first time, June had genuinely thought he was overheating. She had run into him near the locker room, and the second they made eye contact, his entire face flushed. She had even been concerned for a second.
"Are you okay?" she had asked.
William, visibly struggling, had muttered something under his breath and immediately turned on his heel and left. At first, June didn't think much of it. But then it happened again.
And again.
And AGAIN.
Any time their eyes met? Boom. Red. And yet, somehow, she was the only one confused about it. Macklin and Will? They were having the time of their lives.
"Oh my god, this is so funny," Will had whispered after William once again fled the scene. Macklin nodded. "He's actually suffering."
June, arms crossed, frowned. "Do you guys know something I don't?" Will just smirked. "Maybe." June narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust you." Will patted her shoulder. "That's fair."
By the time a full week had passed, June was convinced she had done something wrong. Because who avoids someone this hard if they don't hate them? She finally snapped during morning skate. She had been setting up her camera when William walked into the room—only to immediately turn around and leave.
June had had enough.
"Okay," she said, turning to Macklin and Will. "Be honest. Does he hate me?" Macklin choked on his water. "What?" Will, looking way too entertained, laughed. "Oh, June." June crossed her arms. "No, seriously. Did I do something?"
Macklin wiped his mouth, still grinning. "You really think Eky hates you?"
"Yes?" June threw up her hands. "He literally refuses to be in the same room as me!" Will, barely containing his laughter, shook his head. "Oh, Junie. You're so, so wrong." June frowned. "Then what is it?" Macklin grinned. "Oh, he doesn't hate you," he said. "Not at all." Will smirked. "If anything, it's the opposite." June blinked. "What?"
Macklin leaned back in his seat, looking way too smug. "June," he said slowly, like he was explaining something obvious. "The guy has a huge crush on you."
June froze.
She stared at them. "What? Absolutely not. You're lying." Will nodded. "Oh yeah." Macklin shrugged. "It's actually kind of pathetic."
"...Wait." She shook her head. "You're telling me that he's been avoiding me because he likes me?" Will beamed. "Exactly." June frowned. "That makes no sense." Macklin snorted. "No, it makes perfect sense."
Will nudged her. "Think about it. He literally panicked when he first met you." Macklin nodded. "And he turns bright red whenever you look at him." Will wiggled his eyebrows. "He's smitten."
June, suddenly replaying every single interaction she had with William, felt her stomach drop. No. That can't be it. This is just Mack and Will pulling on her leg. Shoving Macklin and Will away, she walked away, mumbling about how they're a bunch of idiots that don't know what they're talking about. ⸻William Eklund had one goal today. Survive.
Media day was supposed to be easy. It was literally just a few hours of posing for headshots, recording promo videos, and answering basic questions for the Sharks' social team. Simple. Routine. No stress. Except for one problem.
June was there. And not just there. She was practically running the entire thing. Which meant William was now trapped in a room with her for hours, forced to interact, unable to escape like he usually did. He was so screwed.
The media room was buzzing with activity. Bright studio lights were set up along the far wall, cameras positioned at different angles, with a backdrop featuring the Sharks logo. A handful of team staff were already filtering through, prepping the players for their photos and coordinating the shoot schedule.
And in the center of it all?
June.
She was checking over the camera setup, giving quick instructions to the photographer, her clipboard tucked under one arm. Completely in her element. William watched from a safe distance, praying she wouldn't notice him. He had almost convinced himself that he could get through this without incident—until he made the mistake of glancing toward the schedule board.
PLAYER ORDER: 1. Logan Couture 2. Henry Thrun 3. Mario Ferraro 4. William Eklund
William Eklund.
FOURTH? NO TIME TO PREPARE. His stomach dropped. "William!"
His head snapped up just in time to see June waving him over. Oh.
Oh no.
She was smiling at him. Why was she smiling at him? Why did she have to be so effortlessly cool and put-together and—
"Come on," June said, gesturing toward the backdrop. "You're up next."
William's feet refused to move. He was frozen—fully paralyzed—as his brain scrambled for an escape plan that didn't exist. June tilted her head, confused. "You good?" He nodded way too fast.
"Y-yeah! Yes! Of course! I am—good. Very good." Oh my god. What was that? What kind of response was that? He sounded like a robot. June blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. "Okay... cool. Just step into the frame, and we'll get started."
William swallowed hard. This was a nightmare. He forced himself forward, his legs moving stiffly as he positioned himself in front of the camera. "Alright," June said, adjusting the lighting. "Just look straight ahead."
William tried. He really did. But the problem? June was standing right next to the camera. Which meant that every time he looked forward, he was also looking directly at her. And holy shit. That was not helping.
He could feel it happening. The dreaded blush. It started creeping up his neck, warming his face, and no matter how hard he tried to fight it, it just kept getting worse.
He was going to die.
Meanwhile, June—completely unaware of his suffering—was focused on her job. "Alright, now turn a little to your left," she instructed. William nodded too fast again. "Okay. Yes. Left. I can do that."
Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.
He adjusted his pose, feeling like an actual idiot. "Perfect," June said, tapping something on the screen. "Now just relax your shoulders a bit."
Relax? Relax?!
How was he supposed to relax when she was literally standing right there, looking at him, analyzing him, judging his every movement— "Eklund," June interrupted, giving him a look. "Breathe."
Oh.
Right.
Breathing.
That was a thing he should probably do.
He forced himself to inhale, feeling like a malfunctioning robot. After what felt like years, the photographer finally finished. William was seconds away from sprinting out of the room when June held up a hand. "Wait," she said. "One more thing."
He froze. "What?" She handed him a mic. "You need to record a quick intro for the season promo."
...Oh no.
Oh no.
Talking? In front of June?! This was worse. This was so much worse. But he had no choice. So he took the mic, cleared his throat, and—
"Hi. I mean—hello. I'm William Eklund. And you're watching—" He stuttered. "No. Wait. That's Disney Channel. That's not right."
OH MY GOD.
A beat of silence.
Then—
June snorted. Like, actually snorted.
"Dude," she said, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter. "Are you okay?"
William felt himself combusting. "I—uh—I don't know?"
And then, because his embarrassment reached an all-time high, he did the worst thing possible. He cursed in Swedish.
Loudly.
June immediately caught it. "That was Swedish," she said, grinning. "What did you just say?"
William's soul left his body. "Nothing!" he blurted. "It was nothing! I—uh—I should go." And before she could stop him, he turned and speed-walked out of the room. The second he escaped, he slumped against the nearest wall, running a hand through his hair.
That was a disaster.
An absolute disaster.
He could not handle this girl.
Not her smile. Not her teasing. Not the way she effortlessly made him look like an idiot. He was so doomed.
And the worst part? He still had to see her every single day. There was no way he was making it through the season in one piece.
⸻ June Johnson had watched NHL games before. She had grown up watching them on TV, sometimes in the stands, cheering alongside packed crowds. But standing on the ice, just feet away from the players, camera in hand, feeling the energy of the arena before puck drop?
This was different.
This was insane.
And, for the first time since starting this job, she fully grasped the magnitude of what she had walked into.
The arena was electric. The SAP was packed, fans decked out in teal and black, waving rally towels as the pre-game light show illuminated the ice. The music boomed through the speakers, matching the pulse of the anticipation hanging in the air. From ice level, it felt ten times louder.
June had her phone in one hand, her camera in the other, capturing clips for TikTok and Instagram. Players skated by, locked in, the sound of their blades carving through the ice mixing with the deep bass of the arena soundtrack. She turned, scanning the crowd through her lens, before shifting her focus back to the bench.
And that's when she saw them. Macklin and Will.
They were standing by the boards, both trying (and failing) to act like they weren't completely freaking out.
It was their first NHL game.
The real deal.
And June, despite all her focus on capturing the perfect shot, could see the nerves written all over them. She lowered her camera and walked over, nudging Will's shoulder. "You good?"
Will grinned way too fast. "Yeah! Totally! Super fine! Not nervous at all!" Macklin, standing beside him, snorted. "He's lying." Will shot him a look. "Dude, you're literally shaking."
"I am not."
"You so are."
June rolled her eyes. "Okay, both of you need to chill." Macklin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I mean... it's a lot, right? The lights, the crowd, the pressure." Will nodded. "Kinda feels like I might throw up." Macklin grimaced. "Yeah, please don't do that."
June, watching them closely, softened. She had been so focused on the media side of things, she had almost forgotten that this was just as much a huge moment for them as it was for the fans.
Their first NHL game. Their first time skating out to their names being announced in front of thousands. Their first real taste of the league they had dreamed of playing in since they were kids.
And the fact that they got to do it together? That made it even more special.
June shifted, nudging Macklin first, then Will. "You guys know you belong here, right?"
Will blinked. "Huh?"
"I mean it," she said, looking between them. "You guys worked your asses off to get here. And yeah, it's scary, but you're not alone. You've got each other. And," she added with a smirk, "you've got me."
Macklin snorted. "Oh, lucky us." Will grinned. "Yeah, what would we do without you?" June crossed her arms. "Exactly. Now stop freaking out and just play. You'll be fine."
They didn't say anything for a moment, just exchanged a glance—one of those silent, best friend conversations where nothing needed to be said.
Then Macklin smirked. "Alright. Let's do this."
Will nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
Before heading toward the ice, they both turned back at the same time and, without warning, pulled June into a quick hug. It was so fast she barely had time to react before they let go and skated off, leaving her standing there, completely caught off guard.
She blinked, watching them go. Then, with a small smile, she raised her camera and hit record.
This?
This was going to be a hell of a season.
⸻ June Johnson was not prepared for how emotional this game was going to make her. She had spent the past few weeks fully settling into her role with the Sharks, getting used to the chaos, the media responsibilities, and—most of all—her new dynamic with Macklin and Will. She knew how much this night meant to them. But standing here, watching it all unfold in real time, she realized she had drastically underestimated just how much it meant to her too.
The hug wasn't planned. It had been impulsive, a quick, wordless exchange that lasted no more than a few seconds before Macklin and Will skated off, leaving June stunned on the bench.
But apparently? Everyone noticed. Not even five minutes later, her phone buzzed with a notification.
@/SharksMedia: A special moment between our three "rookies" before puck drop. 🦈💙
She clicked the video, watching the moment play back in real-time. The clip wasn't even high quality—just a quick, shaky recording taken by a the other social media crew. But that almost made it better. The three of them huddled together, Will grinning, Macklin looking focused but excited, June laughing as she nudged them before they pulled her in for a fast, almost instinctive hug.
It was so small, so simple—but it had everyone melting. The replies were already flooded with comments.
@/freshprinceofchestnuthill02: STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭 @/miami101: not the sharks making me emotional before the game even starts @/willmack7102: the way they just pulled her in like it was nothing 🥺
June groaned. "Oh my god." Then, it was time. The lights dimmed. The music swelled. The energy in the arena built to a fever pitch.
And then—
"Starting at center, making his NHL debut... MACKLIN CELEBRINI!" The crowd exploded.
June felt her chest tighten with pride as Macklin took the ice, his first NHL solo lap, carving through the rink with ease, the lights reflecting off his jersey.
Then came—
"Starting at forward, making his NHL debut... WILL SMITH!"
Another huge roar from the crowd. Will skated out, grinning ear to ear, pumping his fist as he took his lap. And June? She was so damn proud.
Her boys. Her stupid, chaotic, lovable little brothers were in the NHL.
She held up her phone, capturing every second. She wanted to remember this. She wanted them to remember this. The game itself was a blur of fast-paced action, adrenaline, and a ridiculous amount of yelling from the bench. But the moment that would live in her brain forever?
Macklin's first goal.
She had barely processed what happened.
One second, the puck was dropped. The next? Macklin had it. And before anyone could react—
HE SCORED.
On his first shot. The puck hit the back of the net, and the entire arena erupted. The goal horn blared. The bench exploded. Macklin threw his arms up in disbelief, eyes wide before he was immediately swarmed by his teammates.
June? June was losing her entire mind. She practically shoved her phone into the air, recording as she jumped up and down, screaming.
"Oh my god! OH MY GOD! MACKLIN!" She didn't even care if it was professional or not—she was screaming her lungs out. The guys on the bench were laughing at her, but she didn't care.
She could feel her eyes watering, could barely hold the camera steady, but she kept recording, capturing the pure, unfiltered joy on Macklin's face as he skated past the bench. When he spotted her?
He pointed.
Directly at her.
Like he knew she was freaking out. Like he knew this meant just as much to her as it did to him. She covered her mouth, grinning like an idiot, heart bursting with pride.
June barely remembered the final buzzer, too wrapped up in the chaos of celebration, but the moment the game ended, she was already on the move. She didn't care about decorum, didn't care about looking professional—she just sprinted down the tunnel, camera forgotten, shoving past staff and players until she finally found them.
"MACKLIN!"
Macklin barely had time to turn before June crashed into him, throwing her arms around him in the biggest hug imaginable. Will, laughing, barely had time to react before she grabbed him too.She held onto both of them way too tight, face buried in Macklin's shoulder, because she was so proud she didn't even have words.
"You guys," she choked out, voice muffled. "You guys are—ugh! I'm so proud of you!" Macklin laughed, squeezing her back. "June, you're literally crying." She pulled back just enough to wipe at her eyes, sniffling. "Shut up, I'm not."
Will smirked. "Oh, she totally is." Macklin nodded. "Big time." June groaned. "I hate you both." Will grinned. "Love you too."
Macklin slung an arm around her shoulder, still smiling. "Thanks for being here, Junie." June sniffed, rolling her eyes. "Where else would I be?"
Because honestly?
There was nowhere else she'd rather be.
⸻ William Eklund was already down bad. But after tonight?
It was getting worse.
William was still coming down from the high of their first win when he took a moment to breathe, slumping back against the bench as the final cheers from the crowd echoed through the arena. That's when he saw her. June.
She was still in the tunnel, grinning like an idiot, her arms wrapped around Macklin and Will like they had just won the Stanley Cup. The way she smothered them, pulling them in, eyes bright with pride—it was so genuine, so soft, so full of love that it actually made his chest ache.
And the worst part? The look on their faces.
Macklin and Will—who normally acted like two little menaces—completely melted.
Macklin let himself be squeezed half to death, grinning through it. Will actually laughed into her shoulder, nudging her playfully but not pulling away.
They just... let her love them.
And William? William realized he wanted that too.
He wanted her looking at him like that. He wanted her throwing her arms around him, laughing, telling him she was proud.
God, he was so screwed.
Later, in the locker room, Macklin leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "Okay," he said, tilting his head toward William. "We need to do something." Will, peeling off his tape, raised an eyebrow. "About what?" Macklin scoffed. "Are you serious?"
Will followed his gaze toward where William was sitting, fully staring at June from across the room, looking like a lovesick puppy. Will smirked. "Oh. That."
Macklin rolled his eyes. "Dude, it's getting embarrassing." William was barely trying to be subtle. June was just talking to Ferraro, completely oblivious, but William was staring at her, practically drooling.
"I mean, come on," Macklin continued, nudging Will. "Look at him. He's helpless." Will snorted. "I bet if she even looked in his direction right now, he'd combust."
Macklin smirked. "Wanna test that theory?" Will grinned. "Oh, absolutely."
"Okay, hear me out," Will said, leaning in. "We make him jealous." Macklin raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll work?" Will nodded. "Dude. He's already in the deep end. We just gotta make him feel like he's actually losing her."
Macklin hummed, considering. "And how do we do that?" Will grinned. "I'll flirt with her."
Macklin immediately started laughing. "Oh, that's evil."
Will shrugged. "Gotta do what we gotta do." Macklin smirked. "Alright, let's see if this works." _
The next morning, June was walking through the facility, minding her business, when Will suddenly appeared beside her.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he said smoothly.
June almost tripped. "...What." Will grinned. "Just appreciating beauty when I see it."
June narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Will said way too innocently. "Can't a guy just compliment his favorite person?"
Okay.
Weird.
But this was Will. So instead of overthinking it, June just rolled her eyes. "Right. Sure."
Will patted her shoulder. "Looking forward to spending the day with you, sweetheart."
And then he just... walked off.
June blinked.
What.
The.
Hell.
William witnessed the entire thing. And immediately malfunctioned. Will had barely touched her, had just thrown a few dumb compliments, and yet William felt actual, physical heat crawling up his neck.
Why was Will talking to her like that? Why was June smiling at him like it was normal? WHAT WAS HAPPENING?
He was so busy panicking that he didn't even realize Macklin had been watching him the whole time.
Macklin smirked. "Something wrong, Eky?" William blinked, still staring after June and Will. "Huh?"
Macklin grinned. "You look... distracted." William scowled. "Shut up."
Macklin snorted. Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun. If William Eklund thought things couldn't get worse, he was very, very wrong. Because Will Smith was escalating.
And William? William was losing his mind.
It started the second June walked into the practice facility. She had barely taken two steps before Will was right there, flashing his biggest, most ridiculous grin.
"Junie," he greeted smoothly. "You're glowing today."
June, already skeptical, blinked. "I... what?"
Will placed a hand over his heart. "It's true. You brighten this entire place."
Okay. What the hell was going on? June narrowed her eyes. "Alright. What do you want?" Will gasped, offended. "I'm just being nice!"
"You're being weird."
"I'm being appreciative." June sighed. "Of what?" Will smirked. "Of you, obviously." June stared at him for a solid five seconds.
Then?
She just shook her head and walked away.
Weird. But again—this was Will. So she didn't think much of it.
William, however? William was dying. He had been right there, watching the whole thing, and holy shit. Will was so obvious.
The way he tilted his head just right, the stupid smooth tone of his voice, the way he just kept smiling at her like she was the best thing in the world— William was going to explode.
And the worst part? June didn't even seem fazed. She just rolled her eyes and kept moving, like Will flirting with her was normal. Like she was used to it.
William hated that. Macklin, standing beside him, smirked. "You good, bud?" William gritted his teeth. "I'm fine."
Macklin snorted. "Right. Totally believe that." Macklin just patted his shoulder. "Whenever you're ready to, you know, actually do something about this, let us know."
William groaned, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. That wasn't happening anytime soon. If William thought Will was done for the day, he was so wrong. Because later, when they were in the gym, stretching before practice, Will decided to take things a step further.
June was standing by the benches, scrolling through her phone, completely minding her own business.
And Will? Will casually walked over, plucked her phone out of her hand, and sat beside her. "Hey," he said, grinning. "You look a little tense." June frowned. "What—"
And then? Will reached out and started massaging her shoulders.
William almost had a stroke. June froze. Then, slowly, painfully, turned her head to look at him.
"...What are you doing." Will, completely unbothered, kept massaging. "Just helping you relax."
June stared at him. "Dude."
"What?"
"This is weird."
Will sighed dramatically. "See? You never let yourself be taken care of." June pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh my god."
But she didn't immediately push him away, just let out a long, exhausted sigh before finally grabbing his wrists and prying his hands off.
"Okay. Enough." Will smirked. "You love me."
"I tolerate you." Will winked. "Close enough."
William Eklund needed help. William had been watching all of this from across the room, barely holding it together. He felt like his brain was on fire.
What was Will doing?! Why was June letting him?! WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING IN FRONT OF HIM?!
His jaw was so tight he thought his teeth might crack. He didn't even realize how tense he looked until Ferraro passed by and gave him a knowing look.
"Something wrong, Eky?" he asked, amused.
William, glaring at Will, muttered, "Jag ska döda honom." Ferraro snorted. "Don't need to speak Swedish to know what that means."
William groaned, dropping his head back against the bench. He was never going to survive this.
⸻June Johnson had way too much in her hands.
She had one camera bag slung over her shoulder, a stack of memory cards tucked in her arm, and an iced coffee balancing precariously in her grasp.
She was one wrong move away from disaster. And, of course, that's exactly what happened.
She had been power-walking down the hallway toward the media room, fully convinced she could make it without incident. And then?
She bumped into someone. Her elbow knocked against them just hard enough, and—
One of the memory cards slipped from her grip, tumbling toward the floor. She cursed under her breath and immediately went to grab it. What she didn't realize was that the person she had bumped into—William Eklund—had done the exact same thing.
And just like that—
Their hands collided.
It was barely anything.
Just a quick brush of fingertips, warm skin against warm skin, but it lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary. June barely had time to process it before William yanked his hand back like he'd been electrocuted.
Her brow furrowed. "Woah." William, visibly flustered, refused to look at her. "Sorry."
June grabbed the memory card and straightened, eyeing him. "It's fine. You okay?"
William cleared his throat, still avoiding eye contact. "Yes. Fine. Totally fine."
June narrowed her eyes.
Weird.
So weird.
But before she could push it further, William mumbled another quick apology and walked away. She watched him go, shifting the equipment in her arms.
"...Alright."
She had no idea what just happened. But one thing was becoming very clear.
William Eklund was acting really, really weird around her. And for the first time, she actually wanted to figure out why.
⸻ William Eklund had a problem.
And that problem?
June Johnson.
Because somehow, without realizing it, he had spent the entire night keeping an eye on her. The night had started like any other team outing. The Sharks were in Canada, celebrating a win in one of the liveliest bars in the city. The place was packed, the music loud, drinks flowing, and the energy electric.
June had arrived with Macklin and Will, just like always, falling into her usual spot between them like they were an inseparable trio. And William? William shouldn't have cared. He should have been focused on his own night, drinking, laughing with the guys, letting loose after a good game.
Instead?
His gaze kept drifting. Not intentionally—at least, not at first. But every time she laughed at something, every time she leaned against Macklin's shoulder, every time she flashed that stupid, perfect smile, his brain short-circuited. And then, when Macklin and Will got distracted, when she was off talking to someone else, he found himself checking on her.
Was she okay? Was she having fun?
Who was she talking to?
He had no reason to be watching her this much. No reason at all. And yet, there he was.
Sitting at the table, barely hearing what Ferraro was saying, because he was too busy making sure June was good.
And that? That's how he noticed.
He had been watching her—not intentionally, just subconsciously, scanning the bar like always—when he saw it.
A guy.
Too close.
June tense.
William sat up, spine snapping straight. At first, it was just mild concern.
Maybe she knew him. Maybe she was fine.
Then—
The guy reached for her.
Something in William's chest snapped. Before he even thought about it—before he even processed what he was doing—he was moving. It was pure instinct.
One second, he was at the table. The next?
He was right there.
His hand landed on June's wrist, and in a flash, he pulled her behind him. The second he did it—the second he put himself between her and the guy—his brain switched off.
No nerves. No hesitation. No overthinking.
Just pure, protective instinct. And for the first time ever, he wasn't flustered around her.
Because right now? She needed him. And that? That was the only thing that mattered.
"Back off." His voice was low, sharp, and dangerously calm.
The guy, clearly drunk, scoffed. "Relax, man. We're just talking."
William didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't budge an inch.
"She's not interested," he said coolly. "Walk away."
The guy rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but after a moment, he made the right choice and left.
It wasn't until the guy was gone that William's brain started functioning again. And that's when he realized—
He still had his hand on June.
Oh.
Oh no.
The protective instinct that had taken over? Gone.
Now?
All that was left was panic.
He turned to check on her, his heartbeat still racing, and the moment their eyes met, it hit him all at once.
How close they were. How his hand was still gripping her wrist. How she was looking up at him with wide, unreadable eyes.
His brain completely melted.
Before he could let go, apologize, or run away forever, June suddenly smiled.
Soft.
Grateful.
And then?
She kissed his cheek.
William stopped breathing.
It was so fast—barely a second, just a light press of her lips to his skin—but it destroyed him.
The warmth. The softness. The casual, effortless way she did it—
William was dead.
Actually, physically deceased. And then? She just patted his chest, smiled like nothing happened, and said—
"Thanks, Eky." Then she walked back to the table like it was nothing. He stood there, completely frozen, hand still hovering in midair like an idiot.
His face was on fire. His brain was empty.
And then—
"Ohhh my god."
A voice.
A voice that sent pure fear down his spine.
William turned, and—
Macklin and Will. Watching the whole thing. And losing their minds.
Will was gasping for air. Macklin was halfway to the floor, wheezing. "Oh my god," Will repeated. "DID SHE JUST—"
"Oh, he's so gone," Macklin choked out. "Look at him. LOOK AT HIM."
William's ears were ringing.
He needed to leave.
Right now.
Immediately.
But he couldn't.
Because he was still standing there, still feeling the ghost of her lips on his cheek, still trying to process that June Johnson had just kissed him.
And worst of all?
He had no idea what it meant.
⸻ June Johnson had made one mistake tonight. And that mistake? Thinking she could get through the rest of the night without being interrogated.
By now, it was common knowledge around the team that Will, Macklin, and June always shared a hotel room.
It was ridiculous—they were literal NHL rookies, not kids at summer camp. But somehow, every single road trip, they managed to convince the team staff to let them bunk together.
Why? Because they couldn't function without each other. (Also because Will and Macklin were man-children who needed supervision, but June wouldn't admit that out loud.)
So when they got back to the hotel after the bar, she should have known what was coming.
The moment June walked in, Will threw himself onto the bed, dramatically sprawling out like he had just run a marathon. Macklin, meanwhile, plopped onto the couch, cracking open a water bottle.
And then—at the exact same time—they both turned to her. And grinned.
June froze. "What." Will wiggled his eyebrows. "Sooo..." Macklin smirked. "How's Eky?"
June's stomach dropped.
Oh, god.
They knew.
She forced herself to act casual, dropping her bag by the dresser. "Uh... fine?"
Will snorted. "That's all you're gonna say?"
June narrowed her eyes. "What are you two getting at?"
Macklin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Oh, I don't know," he said casually. "Maybe the fact that you kissed him."
June instantly turned red. "It wasn't a kiss."
Will gasped, clutching his chest. "IT WAS A KISS."
June groaned. "It was barely anything. It was on the cheek."
Macklin smirked. "Did your lips touch his skin?"
June hesitated. "...Yes?"
Will sat up straight. "DID HE TURN BRIGHT RED AFTER?"
She huffed. "Obviously."
Macklin grinned. "Then it counts."
June covered her face. "Oh my god, you guys are so annoying." Will kicked his feet like an excited child. "So, tell us everything. How was it? How did it feel? Was it soft? Did he smell good? Did he—"
"STOP," June groaned. "It wasn't a big deal."
Macklin scoffed. "Oh, it was a huge deal."
Will nodded aggressively. "Eky's probably still in shock. You fried his entire brain."
June sighed, throwing herself onto the bed. "You guys are making this so much bigger than it was."
Macklin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you just go around kissing people on the cheek all the time?"
June glared. "I WAS THANKING HIM."
Will grinned. "Sure. Sure."
Macklin smirked. "You know he's in love with you, right?"
June froze. Her stomach did something weird. She sat up quickly. "He is not."
Macklin and Will exchanged a look. "Oh, she's in denial," Will whispered.
Macklin nodded. "Big time."
June crossed her arms. "He doesn't like me like that. He's just... shy."
Will snorted. "Junie. He literally worships the ground you walk on."
June's face heated up.
Macklin shrugged. "Honestly, I'm kinda impressed with you." She frowned. "What?"
Macklin smirked. "You broke him. I've never seen Eky that flustered before. He might actually be in a coma right now."
June groaned. "You guys are the worst."
Will flopped back onto the pillows, grinning. "Face it, Junie," he said. "You're in trouble."
And, for the first time, June was starting to think he might be right.
⸻ Tyler Toffoli had played in the NHL for a long time. He had seen a lot. He had been on championship teams, endured chaotic locker rooms, and witnessed some of the most ridiculous bets ever made between teammates.
But somehow?
Somehow, this might be the dumbest one yet.
They were on the road, heading into Buffalo for the next game on their trip. The usual post-practice bus chatter filled the air—guys talking about dinner plans, chirping each other about bad drills, and overall just keeping the mood light. Tyler was sitting near the middle, scrolling through his phone, when a voice from behind him made him pause.
"Alright," Will Smith said, loud enough for half the bus to hear. "Let's make things interesting."
Tyler sighed. It was never good when Will started sentences like that. Henry Thrun, sitting near the front, barely turned around. "This ought to be good."
Will grinned. "If Mack, Toff, and I all score against Buffalo, then Toff has to—" He turned dramatically. "Join our legendary sleepover."
Tyler blinked. "...Your what?"
Macklin Celebrini smirked. "Oh, he doesn't know." Mario Ferraro snorted. "Dude, they have a whole routine."
Tyler, confused, looked between them. "You guys still do sleepovers?"
Will grinned proudly. "Hell yeah, we do."
"I—" Tyler shook his head. "Why?"
June, sitting two rows ahead, barely glanced up from her phone. "They're codependent." Will ignored her. "It's tradition. And you can't really talk, you're a part of it."
Tyler rubbed his temples. "Okay, but why me?"
Macklin smirked. "Because we need to test your loyalty." Tyler scoffed. "And what are the chances all three of us actually score?"
Will shrugged. "Low."
Macklin nodded. "But if it happens, you're in."
Tyler rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Not gonna happen anyway."
It did, in fact, happen. Will scored in the first period, skating past the bench with a cocky grin, pointing at Tyler. Then Macklin tipped one in on the power play. And then, because the universe hated him, Tyler sniped one in the third.
The bench erupted.
But instead of normal goal celebrations, Tyler was met with immediate chirping. "Ohhh, Toff," Thrun teased. "You're in trouble now."
Will and Macklin bounced on the bench screaming "Sleepover! Sleepover!!" Tyler groaned. "Oh my god."
By the time they got back to the hotel, Tyler was praying everyone had forgotten.
They did not. Because the coaching staff got involved.
David Quinn, standing in the hallway post-game, grinned when he saw Tyler. "So, Toffoli," he smirked. "You ready for your sleepover?"
Tyler stared. "Coach, please." Mario Ferraro walked by, dying of laughter. "Gotta follow through, bud."
And just like that?
Tyler had no way out.
When Tyler finally showed up to their hotel room, dragging a stupid rollaway cot behind him, he had one thought.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
Because what he expected was a normal setup.
What he got was a full-fledged system. • Will and June were in one bed. • Macklin was in the other. • There was a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk on the bedside table. • And a stupid spot was set up at the foot of both beds for his cot.
Tyler blinked. "You guys are unreal."
Will beamed. "Welcome to the fam, Toff."
Macklin smirked. "Did you actually think we were joking?"
Tyler exhaled. "I was hoping."
June, casually scrolling on her phone, snorted. "Well, you're here now."
"Okay," Will said, pulling out his phone. "Photo time."
Tyler groaned. "Is this really necessary?"
Macklin grinned. "Oh, 100%."
They took the stupidest, most ridiculous photo possible—Tyler lying stiff on his cot, looking miserable, June and Will grinning like gremlins, and Macklin flashing a peace sign from his bed.
June shook her head. "This is absurd."
Will grinned. "It's tradition."
At first, Tyler thought, Okay. Fine. We'll go to sleep now. It was 3am, what else were you supposed to do.
Wrong.
Because Macklin and Will would. Not. Shut. Up.
They talked about everything. The game. The best goal celebrations. Some random inside joke that made zero sense.
June?
She just sat there on her phone, occasionally chiming in like this was completely normal. Tyler turned to her. "How are you just... ignoring this?"
June shrugged. "You get used to it."
Tyler sighed. "I don't think I will."
And then—
Mid-sentence, Will just stopped talking. Tyler frowned. "What the—"
He looked up—Will was just... asleep. Out. Like a light.
Macklin didn't even react.
June, without missing a beat, just sat up, pulled the covers over Will, then rolled over and fell asleep too.
Tyler stared. "What," he whispered. "The hell just happened?"
Macklin yawned. "It's just how it is."
Tyler frowned. "What do you mean?"
Macklin shrugged. "Will has a hard time sleeping alone. He started bunking with June because it helped. And somewhere along the way, I joined too."
Tyler stared.
Slowly, it started to make sense. It wasn't just some dumb rookie sleepover.
It was... routine. A weird, chaotic, ridiculously wholesome routine. And June? She wasn't just their friend. She was their person. Their family. Their everything.
The one who made everything easier, lighter, better.
Tyler shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
This was insane.
But also?
Kind of perfect.
Before turning over to sleep, Tyler pulled out his phone. He stared at the stupid photo they had taken earlier. Then, before he could overthink it, he posted it to his Instagram.
Caption: "Reporting for duty 🫡"
He tossed his phone on the nightstand and settled in.
Yeah.
This team?
This team was something special.
⸻ William Eklund had survived a lot in his career.
Gruelling practices. Hard-fought games. The relentless chirping of his teammates.
But this? This was worse than all of that combined. Because June Johnson was flirting with him.
And she was doing it on purpose.
William had been suffering in silence for months, convinced that June saw him as nothing more than a teammate, a coworker, a friend of a friend.
He had resigned himself to his quiet, torturous little crush. And then, out of nowhere, everything changed. It was like a switch flipped. Because suddenly, overnight, June started acting... different.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But he noticed.
At first, he thought he was imagining it. The way she started standing closer to him in conversations. The way her fingers would brush his wrist when she handed him something. The way she'd lean in, just slightly, when they were talking, like she was completely comfortable in his space.
And then came the comments. The too-casual, too-smooth compliments that made his entire brain malfunction.
"Looking good today, Eky," she had tossed out casually, winking as she walked past.
Or worse—after practice, when she'd toss him a water bottle and say, "Stay hydrated, pretty boy."
PRETTY BOY.
William had fully choked on his own spit.
Ferraro had had to thump him on the back to save him.
June?
She had just grinned and walked away. She was doing this on purpose. He was sure of it now. And it was killing him.
Unfortunately, William was not subtle.
The team picked up on it immediately. They watched as June slowly turned up the heat, adding more teasing, more touches, more deliberate moments that left William looking completely fried.
And the guys?
They were thriving off his suffering.
"Eky, man," Hertl grinned one day. "You look stressed."
"Yeah," Ferraro added. "Everything okay? You seem a little... distracted."
William, completely red, grumbled, "I'm fine."
The worst part?
June had heard the whole thing. And instead of saving him, she had just smirked. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
It finally reached critical levels one afternoon after practice. William had spent the entire day dodging her, avoiding eye contact, trying to survive.
And then—
She cornered him.
It was just the two of them in the media room, the door clicking shut behind them.
William's heart was already racing, just from being alone with her.
And then—
She leaned against the table, crossed her arms, and smirked.
"So," she said casually. "When are you going to ask me out on a date?"
He stopped breathing.
His brain shut down.
She just— She actually—
WHAT.
She was looking at him, waiting for an answer, and oh my god.
She knew.
She had known this whole time.
And now?
Now she was messing with him.
William opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
His face was so red, he could actually feel the heat in his skin.
June tilted her head, amused. "Eky?" she teased. "You good?"
No.
No, he was absolutely not good.
He was broken.
And June was loving it.
⸻ William Eklund had been barely holding himself together for weeks.
But this?
This was a new level of suffering. And it all started with a movie night ambush.
William had no idea what he was walking into. Will and Macklin had texted him earlier:
Will: Movie night at ours. Get here ASAP. Macklin: We got snacks.
William, thinking it was just the three of them, didn't hesitate. But when he walked in, he realized immediately—
He had been set up.
Because sitting on the couch, curled up in the coziest, most unfairly cute outfit imaginable, was June.
William was done for.
She wasn't in her usual media attire. She wasn't wearing her Sharks press pass, or running around with cameras, or giving him heart attacks by casually calling him "pretty boy."
No.
She was wearing sweats, an oversized Sharks hoodie (probably Will or Macklin's), huge glasses, and a messy bun.
And William?
William short-circuited on the spot.
She looked so soft. So effortless. So perfect. She looked so different from the sharp, witty, always-in-control June he was used to. And somehow, that made it so much worse.
She looked like she belonged here.
William could not stop staring.
"Eky," June greeted, smiling up at him. "Didn't know you were coming." William forgot how to speak.
Because her voice was so soft. And she was hugging a pillow to her chest. And she was wearing glasses.
And oh god.
He was in so much trouble. Will and Macklin, of course, noticed immediately. Will barely suppressed a grin. "Yeah, we... forgot to mention June was here."
Macklin smirked. "Hope that's cool."
William, still completely malfunctioning, just nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, totally. Cool. Fine."
Will snorted. "You sure, bud?"
William forced himself to sit down, taking the safest possible spot—the chair across from the couch, as far from June as possible.
Macklin and Will exchanged a look.
Oh, this was gonna be fun.
The next night, the team had a bonding event planned. Bowling. Which should have been normal, fun, low-stress. But of course, that was before June decided to completely ruin William's life.
"Alright," Couture called out. "Pair up, let's get the teams set."
Before William could even think about what was happening, June appeared right next to him. She looped her arm through his, looked up at him with a sweet, innocent smile, and said,
"Me and Eky are a team." William's brain immediately malfunctioned. The guys immediately noticed.
"Ohhh," Toff grinned. "Interesting choice."
Will, barely containing his excitement, leaned over to Macklin. "This is gonna be so good."
Macklin nodded. "Eky's gonna combust."
And honestly?
They weren't wrong.
It started small.
She made little touches—brushing her fingers against his when she grabbed the bowling ball, nudging him when she laughed.
Then, it got worse.
She fixed the collar of his hoodie, totally casual, completely unaware of how William's soul left his body.
And then, when he went up to take his turn—
She stood way too close behind him. She leaned in and whispered, "No pressure, but I expect a strike."
And William?
William bowled the worst shot of his life.
The ball went straight into the gutter.
And the team?
Lost their minds.
"Oh my god," Will howled, actually falling onto the seats.
"Eky," Mario teased. "What the hell was that?"
William had no words. He just turned, fully red, looking at June. She was smirking. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
And then, like she hadn't just completely ruined his night—
She patted his back and said, "You'll get 'em next time, pretty boy."
William wanted to scream.
At this point, William was barely hanging on. And Macklin and Will? Decided to help. Which, of course, made it so much worse.
They started pushing William toward June at random moments. They wingmanned him so hard it was embarrassing.
"Oh, you guys look good together," Macklin said loudly.
"Right?" Will grinned. "Power couple."
William wanted to die.
June?
June just laughed and played along.
"Oh, totally," she smirked. "We make a great team." William was one second away from actually combusting.
⸻William Eklund had reached his breaking point. For weeks, he had been tortured. June had been flirting relentlessly, finding every possible excuse to touch him, tease him, ruin his entire existence.
And worst of all? She knew exactly what she was doing.
Then, the other night, she had straight-up asked him when he was going to ask her out.
And William?
William had said nothing. He had just stood there buffering like a broken computer.
Pathetic.
Which is why, today, he was done. "What if I mess up?" William asked, pacing back and forth in the locker room.
Zetterlund leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "Eky, buddy, you've already messed up."
William groaned. "Okay, but—"
"No. No more 'but,'" Zetterlund cut in. "You're asking her out today."
William ran a hand through his hair. "I had a plan." Zetterlund raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" William nodded. "I was going to wait for the perfect moment."
Zetterlund sighed. "Dude, you had the perfect moment. She literally asked you when you were going to do it."
William groaned again, covering his face. "I KNOW."
Zetterlund clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, okay? Just keep it simple. 'June, go out with me.' That's it."
William took a deep breath. He could do that.
Right?
The plan was simple. June did her "Question of the Day" segments every morning. All he had to do was wait until she finished, walk up, and ask her out.
He had it all rehearsed—every word planned out perfectly in his head.
But then...
He saw her.
She was standing in the hallway, smiling, laughing, looking unfairly beautiful, and—
His brain turned to static.
Before he even knew what was happening, he was walking toward her.
And then—
Words started falling out of his mouth.
"H—hey, um, I was wondering if, uh—well, you see—what I meant was—um—if you, like—wanted, um—go, uh, eat—dinner? With—me? Or something? At some point. Maybe. I don't know. No—I mean, I do know. I mean—I want to. Do you want to?"
Silence.
Absolute.
Painful.
Silence.
June just stared at him.
William wanted to jump into the nearest trash can.
Then—
She smiled.
And oh god.
She was blushing.
"Are you asking me out, Eky?" she asked, tilting her head. William, fully malfunctioning, just nodded.
June's smile grew.
"Then yes," she said softly.
William stopped breathing.
Then, as if she hadn't just completely ruined his life, she leaned in—
And pressed a kiss to his cheek.
But not just anywhere. Dangerously close to his lips.
William was dead.
June pulled away, grinning at his stunned expression. "Pick me up at seven?" she asked.
William, still not functioning as a human being, just nodded wordlessly. June gave him one last teasing look before walking away. Leaving William standing there, completely frozen.
That's when he felt two hands clap onto his shoulders. "Ohhh buddy," Macklin wheezed.
Will, barely holding it together, patted his back. "You okay, champ?"
William said nothing. He just stared into the void.
Macklin and Will looked at each other. Then—they burst out laughing. "Oh, this is too good," Will gasped.
Macklin shook his head. "She broke him."
William, still completely stunned, just whispered "What just happened?"
Will grinned. "You got a date, Eky." Macklin smirked. "And a near-kiss." Will waggled his eyebrows. "She's bold, huh?"
William was still buffering. Macklin clapped him on the back. "You're so screwed, dude."
And honestly?
He was.
⸻ William Eklund had never been this nervous in his entire life.
Not for his NHL debut. Not for a shootout attempt. Not even for post-game interviews where he had to answer questions in English instead of Swedish.
This?
This was worse than all of that combined.
Because tonight? He was taking June Johnson on a date.
When William pulled up to June's place, he felt like he was going to be sick. His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he could already feel the team's chirps echoing in his brain.
But then—
She stepped outside.
And William?
William almost forgot how to breathe.
She looked stunning. Her hair was in natural curls, bouncing with every step she took. Her eyes were bright, glowing, filled with excitement. And her smile?
Her smile was going to kill him.
She was wearing something simple—jeans, sneakers, a cozy sweater—but she had never looked prettier.
William actually felt his jaw drop.
"Oh," he blurted before he could stop himself.
June raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"
William, still short-circuiting, cleared his throat aggressively. "You look—uh—really, really, really—"
Stop saying 'really'—
"—really pretty."
June laughed, eyes crinkling. "Thanks, William."
Then—as if she hadn't just melted his entire brain—she stepped forward and hugged him.
And to make things so much worse for him?
She kissed his cheek.
Again.
William fully blacked out.
June pulled away, grinning. "Are we ready?" William, still struggling to recover, just nodded. "Yeah. Uh. Yep."
He quickly thrust the bouquet of daisies toward her. "These are for you."
June's face softened immediately. "Daisies?" she murmured. William rubbed the back of his neck. "They're your favorite, right?"
June blinked.
Then—to his complete horror—her eyes started glistening.
"I can't believe you remembered that," she whispered. William panicked. "Did I do something wrong?" June laughed, blinking away tears. "No, you idiot. You just did something really sweet."
William, already red, opened the car door for her. "You deserve sweet things."
June stared at him. William immediately felt like he said too much. But before he could freak out completely, June smiled, slipping into the car. Then—just as he was about to close the door—she reached out and grabbed his hand.
"William..." He froze.
June squeezed his fingers gently. "You don't have to be so nervous," she said softly. "I like you, okay? A lot. And I'm glad we're going on a date. Let's just focus on that."
William's chest tightened.
How was she so effortless?
How was she so easy to be around?
He swallowed, nodding. "Okay."
She smiled. "Good."
And just like that, he felt himself relax.
⸻ By the time they got to the arcade, William felt significantly less like he was about to throw up. And after about ten minutes, he was actually having fun.
Because June? June was competitive.
"I hope you're ready to lose, Eky," she said, cracking her knuckles as they approached the basketball hoops. William smirked. "I play hockey, not basketball. You should win this one." June grinned. "We'll see."
The timer started.
Balls flew.
And to William's surprise—
June was actually good.
Like, weirdly good.
"Okay, what the hell," he muttered, watching as she sunk shot after shot with perfect form. June laughed. "You didn't know I played in high school?"
"No!" William gawked. "You were actually an athlete?" June smirked. "What, did you just think I was some media nerd?"
William grinned. "Yes." June gasped, feigning offense. "You take that back."
William laughed.
And for the first time all night, he felt like himself.
⸻ The rest of the night was filled with games, teasing, and ridiculous bets. William beat her at air hockey. June destroyed him at Dance Dance Revolution. He got way too competitive during Mario Kart. She giggled every time he muttered Swedish curses under his breath when he lost.
And somewhere along the way?
June realized something.
She was so, so smitten.
Because William Eklund?
Was the absolute sweetest.
He was a gentleman—opening doors, making sure she was warm, letting her pick the games. He was hilarious—constantly chirping her, making her laugh until her stomach hurt. And most of all?
He was so, so easy to be around.
This wasn't just a date. This was fun. June didn't want it to end.
As they left the arcade, June nudged him. "So," she teased. "Was this so bad?"
William grinned. "No." She smiled. "Good."
They reached the car. And then—
Before William could open the door for her, June turned and tugged on his hoodie.
William froze.
"William?" she murmured.
His pulse skyrocketed. "Yeah?"
She looked up at him, eyes soft. "I had fun tonight," she said.
William swallowed. "Me too." June bit her lip. "We should do it again."
William's stomach flipped. "Yeah?" he asked. June smiled. "Yeah."
Then—because she clearly wasn't done torturing him—
She leaned in. And kissed his cheek.
Again.
But this time? It lasted just a second longer. And it was way too close to his lips.
William actually forgot how to breathe. By the time he snapped out of it, June was already grinning at him.
Oh, yeah.
He was so in trouble.
⸻William Eklund had never felt this happy in his entire life.
As he drove home from June's house, his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his heart still racing, his mind replaying every second of the night.
The laughs. The way she looked at him. The way she kissed his cheek—so close, so soft, like she was waiting for him to do something.
And suddenly—
He couldn't take it anymore. His pulse skyrocketed as a wave of pure confidence rushed through him. Without even thinking, he slammed the brakes, threw the car into reverse, and sped back toward her place.
June had barely made it inside when the doorbell rang. She frowned.
Who the hell—
When she opened the door, she was met with William. Breathless. Wild-eyed. Looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire world.
"William?" she blinked, confused.
He didn't answer.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't think.
He just moved.
One second, she was standing there, trying to process what was happening.
The next?
His hands were cupping her face, his body was stepping forward, and his lips were crashing into hers.
June was frozen for a second.
But then—
She melted.
The kiss.
It was desperate. All of tension unraveling in a single moment.
His hands were firm, holding her like he was afraid she'd disappear. His lips were soft, warm, urgent against hers. And his body—
God.
His body was pressed so close, she could feel his heartbeat racing as fast as hers. She barely had time to react before she was gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything she had.
Because this?
This was what she had been waiting for. And the way William was kissing her? Like he had been dying to do this. Like he had been waiting just as long. It sent shivers down her spine.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless. June, still gripping his hoodie, stared up at him. William, face flushed, chest heaving, stared back.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to. Because in that moment? Everything was finally clear.
William exhaled a laugh, still looking at her like she was unreal. "I, uh..." He swallowed. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."
June's lips curled into a soft, dazed smile.
"Good," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you either."
William closed his eyes, breathing her in.
Relief.
That's what this was. This was finally happening.
And neither of them were running from it anymore.
america’s suitehearts | michael misa x pritzker!reader
☆ summary: y/n is supposed to go to a game at the united center for publicity reasons. while there, she catches the eye of one michael misa. he doesn’t know who this girl is, but he needs to.
☆ pairing: michael misa x pritzker!reader
☆ content: fluff
☆ word count: 6.9k
☆ warnings: referenced underage drinking
☆ note: kind of inspired by lady and the tramp
☆ listen to this for the best experience
The Pritzker penthouse occupied the top three floors of a building on North Lake Shore Drive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed Lake Michigan like a series of brutalist paintings. Y/N, N/N to everyone who mattered, stood in the living room wearing a Mirror Palais slip dress the color of champagne silk, her freshly Olaplex-treated hair catching the late March light. Her Carel Paris ballet flats made no sound on the marble floor, which somehow made the silence worse.
Her mother, Diane, sat on the cream suede sectional with her legs crossed at the ankle in that finishing-school way that N/N had never quite mastered. She was doing that thing where she didn't look directly at you, instead directing her attention to some middle distance, as if you were a problem to be considered rather than a person to be addressed.
Her father paced near the windows, still in his work clothes: Brioni suit, Hermès tie, Tom Ford oxfords that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. Jason Pritzker had the particular energy of a man accustomed to solving problems with phone calls and wire transfers, now confronting a problem that refused to be solved with either.
"I don't understand why this is even a discussion," N/N said, her voice carrying that specific pitch of aggrieved innocence she'd perfected over nineteen years. She shifted her weight, and her Cartier love bracelet caught the light. "It's spring break. I'm supposed to be in Miami with the girls right now."
"You were supposed to be in Miami," her father corrected, not turning from the window. "Instead, you're here. Because Dean Morrison called me personally, personally, Y/N, to inform me that you're on academic probation."
"It's just probation. It's not like I'm failing."
"A 1.9 GPA." Her mother's voice was soft, which was always more dangerous than when she yelled. "At Florida State. Do you understand how that reflects on this family?"
N/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead reaching up to touch the gold nameplate necklace at her throat, N/N in delicate script, purchased during a girls' trip to New York, custom-made at Catbird. "FSU has a really competitive business program, actually. Everyone acts like it's just a party school, but-"
"But you're treating it like one." Jason turned now, and N/N saw the particular set of his jaw that meant this conversation was about to get worse. "Do you know what Morrison told me? He said you've missed more classes this semester than you've attended. That you showed up to your Finance 301 exam still drunk from the night before. That your sorority is considering putting you on social probation because even they think you're partying too hard."
"Phi Mu is not-" N/N started, but her father held up a hand.
"I don't care about Phi Mu. I care that my daughter is squandering opportunities that most people would kill for. I care that when people Google 'Pritzker,' I don't want your arrest record showing up."
"I was never arrested. It was just a noise complaint, and the charges were-"
"Dropped," Diane finished, finally looking at her daughter. "Because your father made phone calls. Because we hired a lawyer. Because we cleaned up your mess, Y/N, the way we always do."
The room fell silent except for the ambient hum of the city below. N/N could see her reflection in the window behind her father, blonde hair in loose waves, skin glowing from her ten-step routine, wearing a dress that cost three thousand dollars. She looked perfect. She always looked perfect. That was supposed to count for something.
"Grandpa Thomas would understand," N/N said quietly, playing what she thought was her trump card. "He was young once. He knows what it's like to-"
"Your grandfather," Jason said, voice tight, "built an empire. At your age, he was working eighteen-hour days. He earned his name." He paused, letting that sink in. "What have you earned, Y/N?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. N/N felt something hot and uncomfortable in her chest. Not quite shame, but close enough to be unpleasant.
"I have a 4.0 GPA in high school," she said, knowing how weak it sounded even as she said it. "I got into FSU on my own merits."
"With our name," Diane interjected smoothly.
N/N's hands clenched at her sides, her Too Faced lip gloss suddenly feeling tacky and wrong on her mouth. "So what, then? You flew me home just to yell at me? To tell me I'm a disappointment? Message received. Can I go now?"
"No." Jason crossed the room to the coffee table, where a manila folder sat like a accusation. He picked it up and held it out to her. "You're going to the Blackhawks game tomorrow night."
N/N stared at the folder as if it might bite her. "What?"
"The United Center. Suite seats. There will be photographers." Her father's voice had shifted into business mode now, the same tone he probably used in board meetings. "The Chicago Tribune is doing a piece on the family's continued investment in the city. You're going to attend, you're going to smile, and you're going to remind people that the Pritzker family represents excellence and commitment to Chicago."
"You want me to be a photo op," N/N said flatly.
"I want you to be part of this family," Jason corrected. "That comes with responsibilities. You've been living off the Pritzker name for nineteen years. It's time you started contributing to it."
N/N took the folder with numb fingers, flipping it open to see a printed itinerary: arrival time, seating assignment, a list of "approved talking points" for any press interactions. Her face in last year's family Christmas card photo, smiling in Chanel with her hair professionally blown out.
"I don't even like hockey," she said, her voice smaller than she intended.
"You don't have to like it." Diane uncrossed and recrossed her ankles. "You just have to show up. Wear something appropriate. Not club attire. Something that says 'Pritzker heir,' not 'party girl.'"
"I have a Versace blazer."
"I'll have something sent over," her mother said, which was her way of saying your taste can't be trusted.
N/N looked down at the folder, at the carefully typed schedule that had been prepared without her input, for an event she didn't want to attend, to salvage a reputation she hadn't realized was in danger. The thing about being a Pritzker was that you never had to worry about money. The thing about being a Pritzker was that you never stopped worrying about the name.
"What if I say no?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Her father's expression didn't change. "Then you can pay your own tuition. Your own rent. Your own way. See how long you last without the family credit card."
It wasn't really a threat. It was a statement of fact, delivered with the casual certainty of someone who'd never had to worry about money and couldn't imagine anyone else's perspective. N/N thought about her sorority dues (her parents paid), her Jaguar (her parents paid), her closet full of designer clothes (her parents paid), the bottle service at Club Liv she'd put on her card last week (her parents paid). She thought about the life she'd built, or thought she'd built, and realized how little of it was actually hers.
"Fine," she said, the word tasting like metal. "I'll go to your stupid game."
"Our stupid game," Jason corrected. "You're a Pritzker, Y/N. Start acting like it."
He left the room then, probably to return calls or move money around or do whatever it was that directors at Hyatt did. Diane remained on the couch, examining her manicure, Chanel Rouge Noir, classic and timeless in a way that N/N's rotating selection of trendy polishes would never be.
"You could make this easier on yourself," her mother said without looking up. "If you just played along."
"I am playing along," N/N said. "That's all I ever do."
"No." Diane finally met her eyes. "Playing along would mean maintaining a 3.5 GPA minimum. It would mean making connections that could help you when you eventually join the family business. It would mean thinking about your future instead of just your next party." She paused. "You're beautiful, Y/N. You're charming. You could have anything you wanted if you applied even half the effort to your education that you apply to your appearance."
N/N looked down at herself, at the dress, the shoes, the accessories that she'd assembled with the careful attention most people reserved for actual work. Her mother wasn't wrong, exactly. She did spend more time on her Drunk Elephant routine than on her Finance homework. She could name every product in the new Summer Fridays line but couldn't remember the difference between macroeconomics and microeconomics.
"The game is at seven," Diane said, standing and smoothing her St. John knit skirt. "Car will pick you up at six-fifteen. Don't be late."
Then she left too, and N/N was alone in the penthouse with the itinerary and her reflection and the slowly setting sun over Lake Michigan. She pulled out her phone, and opened Instagram. Her feed was full of her Phi Mu sisters in Miami. Bikini photos on South Beach, cocktails at LIV, sunset shots with geotags and carefully curated captions. The life she was supposed to be living.
She started to type a message to the group chat, guys you will NOT believe what my parents are making me do, but stopped halfway through. Because what would she say, really? That her parents were mad she was failing? That she had to go to a hockey game? That the consequences of her actions were finally, mildly catching up to her?
In the window's reflection, she looked perfect: golden hour lighting, designer dress, the kind of casual wealth that photographed well. But if you looked closer, and N/N was starting to, whether she wanted to or not, you could see the cracks. The girl who didn't know what she wanted. The girl who was running out of second chances. The girl who was about to be paraded around the United Center like a trained seal, smile frozen, playing the role she'd been born into but never quite learned how to embody.
She closed Instagram without posting anything.
Tomorrow, she would put on whatever outfit her mother sent over. She would sit in the suite and smile for the cameras. She would be Y/N Pritzker, heir to the fortune, perfect daughter, Chicago royalty.
Tonight, alone in the penthouse, she was just N/N. And N/N was beginning to suspect that might not be enough.
────୨ৎ────
The United Center smelled like beer and hot dogs and twenty thousand people pretending the Hawks weren't having a season beyond salvation. N/N sat in the suite, not just any suite, but the Pritzker suite, with her family's name literally engraved on a placard by the door, wearing a Dior blazer her mother's assistant had couriered over that morning. Navy blue. "Sophisticated." Boring.
A photographer from the Tribune had already taken approximately eight hundred photos of her "enjoying the game," which so far meant smiling at a sport she didn't understand while holding a cup of lemonade she wasn't drinking. There were servers. There was catered food from somewhere expensive. There were other people in the suite. Family friends, Hyatt executives, the kind of middle-aged men who told the same stories about her grandfather at every event.
She was supposed to care. She was supposed to be charming.
The jumbotron flashed to life during a timeout, and suddenly her face was forty feet tall, plastered across the screen with a graphic: WELCOME Y/N PRITZKER, PRITZKER FAMILY LEGACY NIGHT.
The crowd cheered, probably more for the family name than for her specifically, and N/N felt her cheeks burn as she manufactured a smile and a small wave. Because that's what you did. That's what Pritzkers did.
"There's our girl!" one of the Hyatt VPs boomed, raising his drink. "True Chicago royalty!"
N/N's smile didn't waver, even though she wanted to sink through the floor.
────୨ৎ────
On the ice, Michael Misa had been having a decent game. Two assists, good puck movement, the kind of performance that might finally shut up the critics who said he wasn't living up to his draft position. The Sharks were up 2-1 going into the third, and he'd been feeling good about it.
Then the jumbotron lit up during the TV timeout, and suddenly he couldn't remember what the score was.
The girl on the screen was… wow.
He didn't have words. Blonde hair that caught the arena lights like spun gold. A smile that looked like it belonged in a magazine. She was wearing a blazer like she was at a business meeting, but somehow made it look like the most natural thing in the world, like she'd been born in designer clothes and had never known what it was like to wear anything else.
Y/N PRITZKER
"Yo, Misa." Macklin Celebrini skated up beside him, following his gaze to the jumbotron. "You good?"
Michael realized his mouth was open. He closed it. "Who is that?"
Macklin squinted at the screen. "Uh, says Y/N Pritzker." He shrugged. "Like the hotel people, probably."
The camera stayed on her for what felt like forever, her doing a little wave, looking embarrassed and perfect and completely untouchable in a glass box high above the ice. Then the feed cut to a Portillo's commercial, and she was gone.
Michael felt like he'd been checked into the boards.
"Dude," Will Smith said, gliding over. "We're literally in the middle of a game."
"I know," Michael said, but he was still looking at the suite level, trying to figure out which box was hers.
"Oh no," Sam Dickinson said, joining the huddle at center ice. The ref was skating over to break them up. "He's got the look."
"What look?" Michael asked.
"The 'I just saw a pretty girl and forgot how to play hockey' look," Sam said. "We've seen it before. It never ends well."
"I don't…" Michael started, but the ref was yelling at them to get ready for the faceoff, and Macklin was laughing, and he had to skate back to position.
But he looked up at the suites one more time before the puck dropped.
────୨ৎ────
ΦΜ Divas
Nina
babe you look SO good
Abbi
wait are you at a HOCKEY GAME
Laila
literally why do you look like you're at fashion week
Nina
the BLAZER
Abbi
very serene girl energy
N/N
it's a family thing. kill me now
But she didn't mean it, not entirely. There was something almost comforting about the spectacle of it all, the cameras, the attention, the performance of being Y/N Pritzker. At least when she was performing, she knew what was expected of her.
"Y/N." Her father appeared at her elbow, steering her toward a cluster of men in suits. "I want you to meet Jim Donaldson, he's with the Ricketts family. Jim, this is my daughter."
And just like that, she was on again. Smile. Handshake. Yes, she loved Chicago. Yes, she was studying business at FSU. Yes, she was so grateful for her family's legacy. The words came automatically, a script she'd been reading since she was old enough to attend these things.
Down on the ice, the game continued. N/N had no idea what was happening, something about offsides and power plays and a player who apparently got a penalty for "hooking," which sounded vaguely inappropriate but everyone acted like it was normal.
The jumbotron cut to her again in the second period. This time she was ready, offering a practiced smile and a wave that looked effortless. The crowd ate it up.
She didn't notice the Sharks player who crashed into the boards on the next play, distracted enough that his linemate had to cover for him.
────୨ৎ────
"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Macklin asked during the intermission. They were in the visitors' locker room, and Michael was supposed to be hydrating and reviewing plays, but instead he was staring at nothing.
"Nothing," Michael said.
"He's thinking about the Pritzker girl," Sam said, retaping his stick.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are," Will cut in. He had his phone out, scrolling. "Okay, so I looked her up. Y/N Pritzker, nineteen, goes to Florida State." He turned his phone around to show an Instagram grid that was aggressively pink and curated. "She's, yeah, she's out of your league, buddy."
Michael grabbed the phone. The Instagram was private, but the profile photo showed the same girl from the jumbotron, this time in what looked like a bikini on a yacht, champagne glass in hand, looking like summer personified.
"Give me that," Macklin said, snatching the phone. He scrolled for a second, then whistled. "Phi Mu. Sorority girl. Yeah, Misa, this is not your demographic."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're a hockey player from suburban Ontario who probably still has a poster of Sidney Crosby in your bedroom," Sam said. "And she's" he gestured vaguely at the phone, "American royalty or something."
Michael knew they were right. He also didn't care.
"I'm just saying she's pretty," he said defensively. "I'm allowed to notice when someone's pretty."
"You're allowed," Macklin agreed. "But you're also supposed to be focused on not blowing our lead in the third."
The coach called them back, and Michael forced himself to stop thinking about glass boxes and blonde hair and the way her smile had looked almost sad, like she was performing for an audience that would never be satisfied.
He had a game to finish.
But when he skated back out for the third period, he looked up at the Pritzker suite first. Just to see if she was still there.
She was.
And for just a second, he thought she might have been looking back.
────୨ৎ────
The Hawks lost 3-2. The Sharks celebrated on the ice with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested they didn't win often enough to take it for granted. N/N watched from behind the glass, feeling oddly detached from the whole spectacle.
"Good game," her father said, which was his way of saying you did well tonight.
"I didn't do anything," N/N replied.
"You showed up. That's something."
The photographer wanted one more photo, N/N with her father, both of them smiling like they hadn't spent the last twenty-four hours arguing. She obliged. She always obliged.
As they filed out of the suite, N/N glanced down at the ice one last time. The Sharks were skating off, and for just a moment, she saw one of them, number 77, look up at the suites like he was searching for something.
Then he was gone, disappearing into the tunnel, and N/N told herself she'd imagined it.
Just another part of the performance.
────୨ৎ────
The Walnut Room at Macy's on State Street was the kind of place that existed in a time warp, all dark wood paneling and white tablecloths and waitresses who'd been working there since before N/N was born. Her grandmother used to take her here when she was little, back when lunch at the Walnut Room followed by shopping felt like the height of sophistication.
Now, at nineteen and fresh off her humiliating performance as the Pritzker family show pony, N/N just wanted somewhere quiet to eat a Cobb salad and pretend last night hadn't happened.
She was scrolling through her phone when someone cleared their throat next to her table.
"Hi."
N/N looked up, ready to deploy her polite-but-dismissive smile for whatever tourist or business associate had recognized her. Instead, she found herself looking at a guy around her age, tall and broad-shouldered in a way that suggested athlete, wearing a Sharks hoodie and looking simultaneously confident and terrified.
It took her exactly three seconds to place him: Number 77. The one who'd been looking up at the suite.
"Hi," she said slowly, her media training kicking in even as her brain struggled to catch up. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah. No. Maybe." He ran a hand through his dark hair, and N/N noticed he had nice hands, big, a little rough, the kind of hands that actually did things instead of just holding champagne glasses at charity events. "I'm Michael. Michael Misa. I play for-"
"The Sharks," N/N finished, because even though she knew nothing about hockey, she'd at least retained that much from last night. "You won."
His face lit up. "You were paying attention?"
"I was on camera every five minutes. Kind of had to at least pretend." She took a sip of her water, studying him. He was cute in that hockey player way, with a strong jaw, nice smile, the kind of face that probably photographed well even when he was bleeding from a fight or whatever it was hockey players did. "How did you even… I mean, what are you doing here?"
"Our plane needs a repair. Quick one, but we've got the day." He shifted his weight, and N/N realized he was actually nervous. When was the last time she'd made someone nervous? "I saw you enter Macy's and I just… can I sit? Just for a minute?"
Every instinct N/N had cultivated over nineteen years of being a Pritzker told her to say no. To be polite but firm, to create distance, to remember that she was Y/N Pritzker and he was, what, exactly? A hockey player. A stranger. Someone who definitely didn't run in her circles.
"Sure," she heard herself say. "Why not."
Michael slid into the chair across from her with the grateful relief of someone who'd expected rejection. Up close, he was even more attractive. There was something open about his face, honest in a way that the men in her father's world never were.
"So," N/N said, leaning back in her chair. "You tracked me down at Macy's. Is this where I find out you're a stalker?"
"No! God, no. I just…" He paused, seeming to gather himself. "Okay, this is going to sound insane, but I saw you on the jumbotron last night and I couldn't stop thinking about you."
N/N blinked. In her experience, men fell into two categories: the ones who wanted her for her last name, and the ones who wanted her for her looks. Both were predictable. Both were boring. This felt different.
"You couldn't stop thinking about me," she repeated, not quite believing it.
"I know how that sounds. My teammates already gave me flack about it. But yeah." Michael met her eyes, and N/N saw something there that she recognized, the recklessness of someone who'd already decided to jump and was too far off the edge to turn back now.
The waitress appeared and N/N ordered her Cobb salad on autopilot while Michael asked for a chicken sandwich and then immediately apologized for his Canadian accent, which N/N found inexplicably charming.
"So," she said once the waitress left, "you play hockey professionally at nineteen. That's, actually, I don't know if that's normal. Is that normal?"
"I was drafted second overall in 2025," Michael said, and there was pride in his voice but not arrogance. "Most guys don't make the NHL this young, but I've been playing since I was really little. It's kind of all I know."
"That must be nice," N/N said before she could stop herself.
"What?"
"Knowing what you're good at. What you're supposed to be doing." She traced the rim of her water glass with one finger, her Cartier bracelet catching the light from the chandelier above. "I'm a business major because that's what Pritzkers do. I'm in a sorority because that's what girls like me do. I smile for cameras because-"
"Because you're Y/N Pritzker," Michael finished. "Legacy night. I heard them announce you about forty times."
"N/N," she corrected. "Y/N is for the Tribune. N/N is for…" She paused. Who was N/N for, exactly? "Everyone else, I guess."
"N/N," Michael repeated, testing it out. His smile was warm, genuine. "I like that better."
Their food arrived, and for a moment they just ate in comfortable silence. N/N watched him, the way he ate like someone who burned five thousand calories a day and needed to replace them, the way he seemed completely comfortable in his own skin despite being in a fancy restaurant in a hoodie.
"Can I ask you something?" Michael said, setting down his sandwich. "And you can tell me to piss off if it's too personal."
"Now I'm intrigued."
"Last night. In the suite. You looked miserable. Like, really miserable. Even when you were smiling." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Was it that bad?"
N/N could have lied. Should have lied. Instead, she found herself saying, "I was supposed to be in Miami with my friends. But I'm on academic probation because apparently partying four nights a week doesn't leave a lot of time for Finance homework. So my parents dragged me back to Chicago and made me sit in a box and smile so people would remember that Pritzkers are winners, not screwup."
Michael was quiet for a moment. "Are you a screwup?"
"I don't know," N/N said honestly. "I'm really good at looking perfect. Does that count as a skill?"
"You're talking to a guy who gets paid to chase a rubber disk around ice," Michael said. "I'm not exactly qualified to judge what counts as a skill."
N/N laughed, actually laughed, not the polite little trill she deployed at charity events. "Okay, fair."
"So what are you good at?" Michael asked. "Besides looking perfect, which, for the record, you are very good at."
"I'm good at Instagram," she said, only half-joking. "I can do a ten-step skincare routine in fifteen minutes. I know every word to every Taylor Swift song. I can spot fake designer from across a room. I'm excellent at small talk with old men who knew my grandfather." She paused. "None of that matters, does it?"
"I don't know. Does it matter that I can take a slap shot at ninety miles per hour? We're both just doing what we're trained to do."
"Except you love hockey."
"And you don't love business?"
N/N looked down at her salad, suddenly not hungry. "I don't know what I love. Isn't that pathetic? I'm nineteen years old and I have no idea what I actually want."
"Most people don't," Michael said. "They just pretend better."
She looked up at him then, really looked. He was watching her with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but somehow wasn't. Like he was actually seeing her, not Y/N Pritzker, but whoever she was underneath all of that.
"Why are you really here?" she asked. "And don't say you couldn't stop thinking about me. Nobody tracks someone down at Macy's just because they saw them on a jumbotron."
Michael was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "My rookie season has been hard. Like, really hard. I was supposed to be this big deal, second overall pick, all this pressure. And some games I live up to it, but most games I'm just, I'm just a kid from Ontario trying not to mess up on national television." He met her eyes. "Last night, I saw you in that suite, and you looked like you understood what that felt like. Performing when everyone's watching. Trying to be perfect when you don't even know what perfect means."
N/N felt something crack open in her chest. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I do know what that feels like."
They sat there for a moment, two nineteen-year-olds in a restaurant that had seen decades of Chicago's elite come and go, both of them pretending to be older than they were.
"So," Michael said finally. "You're stuck in Chicago for the rest of spring break?"
"Looks like it. My parents want me to 'reflect on my choices.'" N/N made air quotes, rolling her eyes.
"And you have to do that alone?"
"I… what?"
Michael pulled out his phone, checked something, then looked back at her with that reckless smile. "We're here until tomorrow night. Early flight, but that's like," He glanced at his watch. "Thirty hours from now. Give or take."
N/N's heart started beating faster. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that you look like you could use a break from being Y/N Pritzker, and I'm very good at helping people forget about their problems for a while." He paused. "That sounded less creepy in my head."
"A little bit, yeah."
"What I mean is, let me show you Chicago. Not the Pritzker version. Just Chicago. The way normal people see it."
N/N should have said no. Should have finished her salad, thanked him for the conversation, and gone back to the penthouse to contemplate her GPA and her future and all the ways she was disappointing everyone who shared her last name.
Instead, she heard herself say, "Okay."
Michael's face transformed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. But I'm not changing. If we're doing this, you're getting the full N/N experience."
"I wouldn't want it any other way," Michael said, and the way he looked at her made N/N think that maybe she'd finally met someone who wanted her for reasons that had nothing to do with her last name or her Instagram aesthetic.
They split the check, Michael insisted, despite N/N's protests that she had a black Amex that literally had no limit, and walked out into the Chicago afternoon.
"So," N/N said, pulling on her Toteme sunglasses. "Where are we going?"
Michael grinned. "Do you trust me?"
"Absolutely not," N/N said. "But let's go anyway."
And for the first time in as long as she could remember, Y/N "N/N" Pritzker felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
────୨ৎ────
"I haven't been to the Adler since I was like, nine," N/N said as they walked up the steps of the planetarium, Lake Michigan stretching out behind them in shades of grey-blue. The wind off the water was sharp, and she was grateful for her Toteme coat even as she felt overdressed next to Michael in his Sharks hoodie and jeans.
"When you were nine, did you actually look at the exhibits, or were you already performing for whoever brought you?" Michael asked, holding the door open for her.
N/N stopped mid-step. "Okay, you need to stop reading my mind. It's unsettling."
"Not mind-reading. Just pattern recognition. You get good at reading people when you're trying to anticipate where the puck's going."
Inside, the Adler was quieter than N/N expected for a Friday afternoon. A school group clustered around one exhibit, their teacher trying desperately to maintain order, but otherwise it was just them and a handful of tourists.
Michael led her straight to the Grainger Sky Theater, checking his watch. "Perfect timing. The next show starts in five minutes."
"What show?"
"You'll see."
They settled into the reclined seats, and N/N became acutely aware of how close Michael was. His arm almost but not quite touching hers, the smell of his cologne (something simple, probably not designer), the way he kept glancing over at her like he couldn't quite believe she'd said yes to this.
The lights dimmed. The dome above them transformed into a night sky, stars blooming across the ceiling in patterns N/N had never bothered to learn.
"See that?" Michael pointed to a cluster of stars. "That's Orion. The belt is those three stars in a row."
"How do you know that?"
"My dad used to take me out in the winter. You spend enough hours sitting in the dark, you learn the constellations." His voice was soft, meant just for her. "That's Cassiopeia. Looks like a W. And that really bright one is Venus."
N/N stared up at the artificial sky, feeling something unfamiliar in her chest. "I've lived in Chicago my whole life and I've never actually looked at the stars."
"Too much light pollution," Michael said. "But up north, where I'm from? On a clear night, you can see everything."
The show began, something about the solar system, narrated by a voice that was trying very hard to make science exciting. But N/N wasn't really paying attention to the narration. She was watching the way Michael's face lit up in the glow of the projected planets, the genuine wonder there.
Halfway through, he reached over and took her hand.
It should have been presumptuous. Instead, it felt inevitable.
────୨ৎ────
The Shedd Aquarium was crowded with families with strollers, couples on dates, the ambient noise of children shrieking at the beluga whales. Michael bought them tickets ("I'm paying this time, don't even try") and steered her past the main exhibits toward the Caribbean Reef.
"This is my favorite," he said as they stood in front of the massive cylindrical tank, surrounded by water on all sides. Sharks glided past the glass, along with sea turtles and stingrays and fish in colors N/N didn't have names for.
"You like sharks," N/N said. "Subtle."
"What can I say? I'm a fan of the brand." He was grinning, and N/N realized she liked making him smile. Liked that she could do that.
They watched a diver descend into the tank for feeding time, and N/N found herself leaning against Michael's shoulder without thinking about it. He didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted slightly so she'd be more comfortable, and N/N thought about how different this was from the guys she usually ended up with, frat boys who talked too loud and grabbed too hard, trust fund kids who saw her as a trophy or a networking opportunity.
"Question," Michael said as a sea turtle paddled lazily past. "If you could be any of these fish, which one would you be?"
"That's a deeply weird question."
"Humor me."
N/N considered the tank. "The jellyfish, probably. They just float around looking pretty and everyone else has to work around them."
"That's dark, N/N."
"You asked." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "What about you?"
"The shark, obviously."
"Obviously," she echoed, rolling her eyes. But she was smiling.
They spent another hour wandering through exhibits, the Amazon Rising, the Wild Reef, the touch pools where N/N refused to touch anything ("I just did my nails") while Michael happily pet stingrays and explained their anatomy like he was a marine biology major and not a professional hockey player.
"You're kind of a nerd," N/N observed as they left the aquarium.
"Yeah," Michael agreed, completely unashamed. "Is that a problem?"
"No," N/N said, surprising herself. "It's actually really cute."
He looked at her then, something shifting in his expression. "You think I'm cute?"
"Don't let it go to your head."
But she was blushing, and they both knew it.
────୨ৎ────
The Field Museum was Michael's idea and N/N protested that she'd been here a million times for various Pritzker foundation events, but Michael insisted.
"When's the last time you actually looked at the dinosaurs?"
"I…" N/N paused. "Okay, fair point."
SUE the T-Rex loomed in the main hall, all gleaming bones and prehistoric violence, and Michael stood beneath the skull with the kind of reverence most people reserved for cathedrals.
"Sixty-seven million years old," he said, reading the placard. "Can you imagine? This thing was hunting prey when my ancestors were still like, tiny mammals hiding in holes."
"Your ancestors were definitely tiny mammals hiding in holes," N/N teased.
"Okay, rude, but probably accurate."
They wandered through the exhibits. N/N found herself actually reading the placards, actually caring about the information, because Michael made everything feel interesting just by being enthusiastic about it.
In the Hall of Gems, she stopped in front of a massive pink diamond.
"My mom has earrings that color," she said absently.
Michael looked at her, then at the diamond. "What's that like? Having a mom with real diamond earrings?"
N/N thought about it. "Honestly? I don't know. She's just my mom. The diamonds are just background noise. Like, I know we're rich. Obviously. But it's not like I wake up every day thinking about it. It's just how things are."
"Must be nice."
"Is it?" N/N turned to face him. "My parents paid for me to have everything I could ever want, and I still managed to mess it up. At least you earned your spot on the Sharks."
"You don't think you earned Florida State?"
N/N laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m a Pritzer. You tell me."
Michael was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You know what I think? I think you're so busy being Y/N Pritzker that you forgot to figure out who N/N is."
It was too close to the truth. N/N felt something hot behind her eyes and blinked it away. "Getting deep in the Hall of Gems. Bold choice."
"Sorry. Hockey player. We're not known for our emotional intelligence."
"Could've fooled me," N/N said softly.
They stood there in front of the pink diamond, not quite touching but close enough that N/N could feel the heat of him, and she thought about how easy it would be to lean in, to close the distance, to stop thinking for just a minute.
But Michael stepped back first, gentle, giving her space. "Come on. I want to show you the butterfly exhibit."
────୨ৎ────
By the time they made it to Lincoln Park Zoo, the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange that reminded N/N of her Instagram aesthetic. The zoo was free and less crowded than the museums had been.
They saw the lions first, lazy and golden in the fading light. Then the monkeys, who were absolutely showing off for a group of delighted toddlers. Michael bought them hot chocolate from a vendor, and N/N wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the warmth.
"This is nice," she said as they walked. "Like, genuinely nice. I can't remember the last time I did something like this."
"What, went to a zoo?"
"Went anywhere without it being a production. Without cameras or expectations or having to be on."
Michael nudged her shoulder. "You're not on right now?"
"A little bit," N/N admitted. "But less than usual. You're easy to be around."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
They found the polar bears just as the sky was turning from orange to purple, that magic hour where everything looks like a movie. The bears were massive, powerful, moving through the water with a grace that seemed impossible for something so large.
"They're beautiful," N/N breathed, watching one surface and shake water from its fur.
"Yeah," Michael said, but when N/N glanced over, he was looking at her, not the bears.
Her heart stuttered. "That's such a line."
"Doesn't make it less true."
They were standing close now, close enough that N/N could count his eyelashes if she wanted to, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. The zoo sounds faded into background noise, the distant roar of lions, children laughing, the ambient hum of the city around them.
"Michael," N/N said, and it came out softer than she intended.
"Yeah?"
"If you're going to kiss me, now would be a good time."
He smiled, that reckless, honest smile that had made her say yes to this whole ridiculous day. "Just wanted to make sure I had permission."
"You have permission."
And then he was kissing her, one hand coming up to cup her face, gentle and sure at the same time. N/N's eyes fluttered closed, and she let herself fall into it, the warmth of his mouth, the solidness of his chest under her palms, the way he kissed like he meant it, like this wasn't just a spring break hookup or a photo op but something real.
Behind them, the polar bears swam. Around them, families wandered past, lives intersecting for just a moment. Above them, the sky continued its slow fade to darkness.
When they finally pulled apart, Michael was grinning like he'd just scored the winning goal.
"What?" N/N asked, breathless.
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I saw you on that jumbotron and thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And now I've spent the whole day with you and you're even better than I imagined."
N/N felt her cheeks flush. "You're very smooth for a hockey boy."
"I have my moments." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and N/N realized with a start that her carefully styled waves were probably a disaster at this point, and she didn't even care. "Can I see you tomorrow?"
"You're leaving tomorrow night."
"I know. But I have until then." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "Unless you're sick of me."
N/N thought about the penthouse, about her parents' disappointed faces, about the academic probation and the failed Finance exam and the life she was supposed to be fixing. Then she thought about how Michael looked at her, not like Y/N Pritzker, legacy heir, but like N/N, the girl who didn't know what she wanted but was starting to figure it out.
"Pick me up at ten," she said. "The Peninsula. Ask for the Pritzker residence."
Michael's eyes widened. "You live at the Peninsula?"
"Penthouse. Don't let it weird you out."
"Oh, I'm already deeply weirded out. But I'm also very into you, so." He kissed her again, quick and sweet. "Ten o'clock. I'll be there."
They walked back through the zoo hand in hand, and N/N felt lighter than she had in months. The polar bears watched them go, ancient and knowing, and somewhere in the distance, the city hummed with possibility.
Tomorrow, she'd have to be Y/N Pritzker again. Tonight, she was just N/N, and that was enough.
taglist: @linaversion @lilfreakjez @heartsforjh @levidazai @smiley-roos
join the (new) taglist to stay updated
⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
will smiths sister reader x macklin celebrini
a/n this took me THREE WEEKS??? anyways…
cw: reader is mentioned as a democrat, reader is blonde (obvs), some of the user comments may be messed up because i added a few things in after i wrote comments, takes place from 2023 (kinda) - 2025.
taglist: @smithlovn @nuoctis @engelsmoment @smittylovr @hermionesimp @banan1ca @mosseetrees @wherethezoes-at @yeaitsme03 @am-271 @liliesbytheocean @sjujus @destinyg237
july 1 2023
ynsmith
♫ Harry Styles · Sign of the times
liked by willsmith2, gabeperreault and 18.2k others
ynsmith so proud of my big brother!! san jose im so excited for this next chapter <3
comments. . .
sanjosesharks obsessed with u !! ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith im obsessed with YOU! <3
gabeperreault gonna miss you both 🐐🐐 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith miss u already buddy!
willsmith2 means a lot sis, thank you :) ♥︎ by creator
user1 omg shes gorgeous
⤷ user2 whole family gorgeous bro
nhl ❤️
user3 wait im so excited for them in sj
user4 will smith you ARE a shark!!
user5 THE FUTURE IS SOOOO TEAL
june 30 2024 (2 days after the 2024 draft)
july 3rd 2024
ynsmith
♫ Olivia Dean · Couple of minutes
liked by macklincelebrini, willsmith2 and. 24.5k others
ynsmith nhl draft watch party!! congrats to macklincelebrini! welcome to the sharks :)
comments. . .
macklincelebrini thanks! 😄 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith youre welcome :)
⤷ willsmith2 ur so bad at this bro
sanjosesharks <3 ♥︎ by creator
user5 is anyone here after he followed her literally 2 days after the draft and before he even followed the sharks LMFAOO
⤷ user6 no fr its WILDDDD
⤷ user7 to be fair… almost all of the younger team mates follow her LOL
⤷ user8 HE DOESNT EVEN FOLLOW WILL YET
willsmith2 👀👀 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith STOP
nhl 🥳🥳♥︎ by creator
nhlfollowertracker 😉 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ user9 the way she liked this comment im creasing
july 4th 2024
july 10th 2024
ynsmith
♫ Madison Beer · Envy the leaves
liked by willsmith2, macklincelebrini and 43.2k others
ynsmith your favourite tour guides favourite tour guide 😉
comments. . .
macklincelebrini so fun!! thanks for inviting me :) ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith anytime :)
user10 this is literally like a rom com omg.
user11 AWWW
willsmith2 😉😉 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith zip it boy
user12 WAIT I SHIP SO HARD
sanjosesharks san jose love story? 💕
user13 2 goats in 1 post 🐐
yourbsf omg text me ♥︎ by creator
user14 obsessed with that cardi
19th november 2024
ynsmith
♫ Weezer · Island in the sun
liked by macklincelebrini, yourbsf and 28.6k others
ynsmith lets go sharks!! 🦈
comments. . .
yourbsf cute!! ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith missing u baby😢😢
macklincelebrini :) ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith 😊😊
user15 i see the mack sneak
user16 im obsessed with them bro
user17 need that jacket omg
user18 im usually not one for rumours but…
willsmith2 ooo 👀👀 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith GET OFF MY PAGE
user19 wait theyd be so cute tho
sanjosesharks ❤️🧥♥︎ by creator
user20 LOVE HER MORE THAN WILL BRO ♥︎ by creator
catbtoffoli 💖☺️ ♥︎ by creator
january 2nd 2025
ynsmith
♫ Taylor Swift · New years day
liked by macklincelebrini, sanjosesharks and 43.2k others
ynsmith happy new year! 💞
comments. . .
user36 omfg is that mack
user37 MACK????
ynsmith why is no one talking about how fun cool and sexy i am
macklincelebrini broo u so fun cool and sexy
⤷ ynsmith let me kiss u on ur hot mouth
⤷ user38 ?!?!?
⤷ user39 HELLOOOO??
willsmith2 ur not fun cool and sexy
⤷ ynsmith die
user40 macks comment???
⤷ user45 if theyre not together im gonna be mad
sanjosesharks happy new year !
yourbsf wow ur gorgeous
⤷ ynsmith pucker up sweet thing
(big time skip sorry)
june 20th 2025
macklincelebrini
♫ Eagles · Take it easy
liked by ynsmith, sanjosesharks and 212.3k others
macklincelebrini great first year in the tank! onto the next 😊
comments. . .
user21 WHO IS THAT GIRL WHO IS THAT
user22 wait im mad
user23 PLEASE TELL ME ITS YN
ynsmith 😌 ♥︎ by creator
user24 FUTURE IS SO TEALLL
sanjosesharks <3 ♥︎ by creator
user25 BRUHHH IM SO SADDD THAT SHOULD BE ME
user26 take me out ref💔💔
user27 you guys are so dramatic
user28 stop being parasocial guys !!
willsmith2 😛😛😛
june 30th 2025
ynsmith
♫ Zara Larsson · Midnight Sun
liked by willsmith, macklincelebrini and 35.3k others
ynsmith off season in canada! 🇨🇦❤️
comments. . .
user29 wow mack has a TYPE (blondes)
⤷ user30 same with almost every nhl player btw
macklincelebrini <3 ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith 💖
yourbsf wow so theyre MY SHORTS ♥︎ by creator
⤷ ynsmith U SAID I COULD BORROW THEM
⤷ yourbsf I SAID YOU COULD BORROW THEM 5 MONTHS AGO
user31 ugh theyre so cute
user32 are they actually official yet
⤷ user33 not publicly
⤷ user34 i feel as if this is pretty public ♥︎ by creator
user35 where are the shorts from?
⤷ yourbsf MY CLOSET (theyre from brandname) ♥︎ by creator
july 4th 2025
ynsmith
♫ Bruce Springsteen · Born in the Usa
ynsmith 4th of july in boston!! in a blue way ofc <3
liked by willsmith, yourbsf and 56.4k others
comments. . .
user42 omg as if i couldn’t love u more ♥︎ by creator
user43 ONE OF US
user44 ewwww why isnt she maga
⤷ ynsmith because i don’t support donald trump and his inhumane beliefs hope this helps 💖💖
⤷ user45 THATS MY GOATTT WE LOVE U ♥︎ by creator
macklincelebrini 💙😘 ♥︎ by creator
user46 can they just hard launch pls
user47 HARD LAUNCH PLSSSSS
willsmith2 🎆 ♥︎ by creator
user48 she heard those maga rumours and shut it down instantly and i love that for her ♥︎ by creator
user49 WE LOVE U BADDIE
user50 ugh obsessed ♥︎ by creator
yourbsf 💖🎆 ♥︎ by creator
july 10th 2025
ynsmith
♫ Declan Mckenna · Brazil
liked by macklincelebrini, willsmith and 67.2k more
ynsmith beach babes
comments. . .
user51 THAT PIC ON TWT OH MY GOSHH
user52 THEYRE DEFS TOGETHER
user53 EEK IM SO JOLLY
macklincelebrini 🌊❤️ ♥︎ by creator
willsmith2 ☺️😛 ♥︎ by creator
user54 im staying quiet until the hard launch
user55 im trying to remain calm
yourbsf im tired of this grandpa ♥︎ by creator
user56 BRUHH HARD LAUNCH ALREADY
august 3rd 2025
ynsmith
♫ Madison Beer · Teenager In Love
liked by macklincelebrini, yourbsf and 108.3k others
ynsmith the hard launch youve all been waiting for @/macklincelebrini
comments. . .
macklincelebrini i love you ♥︎ by creator
yourbsf FINALLY ♥︎ by creator
willsmith2 WOOOO ♥︎ by creator
sanjosesharks 💖 ♥︎ by creator
catbtoffoli you two are the cutest! ♥︎ by creator
comments limited to friends only.
