Summary: You convinced Will to film one silly TikTok trend. Now he’s viral. Sharks Twitter has made memes. His teammates won’t let him live. And honestly? You’re loving it.
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You didn’t mean for it to go viral.
It was just supposed to be a dumb little TikTok, a 15-second clip with your boyfriend and a trending audio that made you laugh. Something for your private account, your close friends, maybe a few likes from people who didn’t even know who Will was.
You definitely didn’t expect the Sharks official Twitter to repost it.
Or for the clip to hit 2.3 million views overnight.
Or for Will to become a meme.
It started on a slow Tuesday, the kind of day where Will was in sweats, lying upside down on the couch with his legs over the back cushions and a protein bar balanced precariously on his chest.
He’d had a morning skate, then an afternoon nap that bled into a mid-afternoon zone-out session. You were stretched out on the rug, scrolling TikTok with a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.
Will hummed without looking away from the ceiling.
That got his attention. His head popped up like a gopher. “What kind of question is that?”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “…yes?”
You grinned. “Perfect. I need you to help me film something.”
“Nope.” He immediately flopped back down. “Not happening. I know that voice.”
“Last time you said that, I ended up dancing to Beyoncé in my boxers.”
“It was character assassination.”
“Come on. It’s just a trend. You barely have to do anything.”
He groaned but tilted his head to look at you again. “What’s the trend?”
You held up your phone. The video played: one partner is recording while the other one walks into the room, unsuspecting, and the person behind the camera hits them with a cheesy pick-up line or embarrassing confession. The hook? Their reaction.
Will watched three of them. Laughed at one. Gave a slow side-eye during another.
“Okay,” he finally said. “But if I end up a GIF, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“You already are a GIF,” you teased. “The Sharks fanbase is unhinged.”
Will raised a brow. “And you’re making it worse.”
You waited until he was in the kitchen, humming quietly to himself while making his post-nap smoothie. He was in his go-to gray joggers and a Sharks hoodie, hair a mess, but you didn’t think he’d ever looked more dateable in his life.
You propped your phone against the salt shaker.
Walked up behind him, trying to keep a straight face.
“Hey Will,” you said sweetly.
He didn’t even turn around. “Yeah?”
“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple.”
There was a beat of silence. Then another.
Will slowly turned his head toward the camera, blinked twice, and deadpanned, “I regret everything.”
You couldn’t stop laughing.
He reached for your phone, but you snatched it away before he could stop the recording. “Nope! It’s perfect. That face? Oscar-worthy.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to be TikTok famous.”
You posted it an hour later with the caption: he’s gonna kill me for this later 🍍 #finapple #nhlboyfriend #hockeysoftie
You didn’t even tag his name.
But the internet has ways.
By the time you woke up the next morning, the video had exploded.
Sharks Twitter had reposted it.
Will’s deadpan expression was a meme.
Someone had edited him in a Hawaiian shirt holding a pineapple smoothie with the text: “San Jose’s finest fruit.”
You rolled over in bed and opened your notifications.
Will was still asleep, one arm thrown over your waist, mouth slightly open. Completely unaware that the internet had crowned him the NHL’s newest reluctant heartthrob.
You snorted and scrolled through the top comments:
“why is this the most boyfriend behavior i’ve ever seen”
“the way he didn’t even blink. iconic.”
“petition to start calling him fineapple smith”
“sharks players dating people with tiktok accounts should be ILLEGAL. my heart.”
You nudged Will gently. “Babe. Wake up.”
“Five more minutes,” he mumbled.
His eyes cracked open. “What?”
You flipped the phone around.
He blinked at the video. Then the comments. Then the tweet from the Sharks’ official account.
Then he groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “This is my villain origin story.”
By the time Will got to practice, it was already too late.
“Yo Fineapple,” Bordy chirped the second Will walked into the locker room. “Where’s your tropical smoothie?”
Will glared. “I will drop you in warmups.”
“Oh my god,” Eklund laughed. “Are you blushing?”
Zetterlund poked his head around the corner, holding up his phone. “You really said ‘I regret everything.’ Bro, that delivery was Emmy level.”
Will walked straight to his stall, sat down, and sighed so dramatically you could hear it over the music.
Someone changed the locker room playlist to “Escape (The Piña Colada Song).”
He didn’t talk to you for twenty minutes after practice.
You were waiting outside, leaned against your car, sipping your coffee with a smug little smile.
“You think this is funny?” he asked, squinting into the sunlight.
“I think you’re trending on Twitter. Sharks fans are obsessed. They’re calling me ‘pineapple girl’ in the replies.”
He opened the passenger door and slid in. “I hate everything.”
He tried to stop, but a little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Shut up.”
That night, you sat on the couch with Will’s head in your lap as the Sharks game recap played in the background.
You ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through the comment section of the video for the hundredth time.
“Someone just posted fanart,” you said, showing him.
Will squinted. “Why do I have sunglasses and a lei?”
“Because you’re Fineapple Smith now. It’s canon.”
He groaned but didn’t move. “You’re never letting this go, are you?”
He tilted his head, looking up at you. “Fine. Then I get to post the next one.”
Your hand paused in his hair. “Wait. Really?”
“You started this. I’m finishing it.”
Two days later, Will posted a video with the caption: revenge is sweet 🍍
The audio was from some dramatic soap opera moment, and the video was him walking into frame shirtless with a pineapple in one hand and your bathrobe over his shoulders.
But at least you were his toast.
And if being TikTok’s favorite hockey couple meant living in a world where people made fruit puns about your boyfriend on the daily?
Well, you figured there were worse kinds of trouble to be in.
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