You didnât know where you were to be exact but you ended up at a park. Sitting at the table underneath the canopy, you sighed to yourself looking around at your surroundings. It started to down pour. Being in the middle of June, Boston poured down on your parade. Why didnât your classmates like you? Why didnât Will like you? You didnât do anything to him. It was so frustrating to you that he acted like he hated you. Some time passed and you looked up hearing a carâs engine turn off. It was your dad. He didnât look happy. âI have been looking for you everywhere Missy. You can not just run off like that. You are eight years old. Someone couldnât hurt you!â Your father raised his voice clearly upset. âSo!? Nobody cares!â You yelled at him furious. He was taken back by your outburst. You never shouted or yelled at him before. âDo not yell at me young lady! Youâre grounded. Now get in the damn car.â He said pointing to the vehicle as he stood in the downpour rain getting soaked in his business suit. Not in the mood to argue, you did just that. You two went home and you stomped into your bedroom slamming the door behind you. Crying as you laid face down, you felt defeated. You heard kids outside your window so you got up to see who they were. Will was in the driveway across the street playing hockey with his friends. He looked so proud and happy to play the sport. You didnât know a thing about the game but seeing the looks of defeat on his friends faces, he was a good player. You watched from your bedroom window the boys play hoping they or no one could see you. Your eyes got wide as saucers when Will looked up and looked right at you where you stood. Squealing, you ducked and felt your face get red with embarrassment. How did he know!? You didnât know he was your neighbor! Tomorrow is going to be an interesting Thursday, you thought as you crawled to your bed across the room.
The next day at school wasnât any better than the previous days. As you sat down at your desk, Will gave you a look. âWhy were you watching me last night creep? You donât have anything else to do nerd?â Will asked tugging at your pigtails. Enough was enough! You stood up and swung back your fist punching Will right in the mouth. Kids gasped around you not expecting such violent behavior from the quiet nerd. Ms. Rachel stopped what she was doing and ran over seeing Willâs blood. Will cried as he saw two of his teeth on the ground. âY/N L/N, principal office right now!â Your teacher exclaimed pushing you to the classroom door. You walked to the headmasterâs office with a smug look on your face. Your hand hurt from the impact of hitting your foe square in his mouth but it was worth it. Will passed you in the hallway holding an ice pack to his sore mouth. He glared at you. He couldnât believe a girl hit him! Will has took some hits from hockey and football but never did a girl hit him! This was so embarrassing! He wanted to give you a piece of his mind but he was honestly afraid of you. Your strength behind your punch was impressive to him. âY/N L/N, come in.â Your principal called for you as the office lady held the door open. Your fate was in Mr. Fordâs hands. Sitting in the chair across from him, you looked at him. His face didnât read mad or upset. He knew you were having a hard time at his school, not your grades but the social side of things. âMiss, you cannot just turn to violence when things get hard. Hitting another student is not tolerated here. I know you have been harassed and trust me, I called the their parents and have them assigned to detention but I do not condone punching another student in the mouth. I will be calling your father and you will be suspended for one day. I donât want to see you back in my office again for this kind of behavior. Am I clear?â Mr. Ford said strictly and sternly looking at me over his glasses. I nodded my head and signed my name at the bottom of the suspension paper before going back to class to get my things. My class watched as I got my things from my cubby and my desk. The fear in their eyes was something new to me. Did I teach not just Will a lesson but the rest of the class not to mess with me anymore? Will things finally get better?
for those of you who donât know, there is an account on here that goes by the name of kittykat12writes. or whatever version she decides to go with next.
despite constantly being called out and their account being reported, they are constantly stealing other peopleâs works on here and claiming it as their own. the only difference they make is by changing whoever it is about.
they have created multiple accounts, and have taken no accountability or even thought that what they are doing is wrong. they just delete their account and go on to make another one, doing the same thing.
most recently, they have most recently taken a piece of work that was written by a close friend of mine and has posted it as their own, but instead with harry potter characters.
^ unfortunately, some harry potter fans may see it and think there is nothing wrong with it, as iâm sure some of them do not follow hockey or read fics about it.
but those of us who have seen them rip off other peopleâs works and claim them as their own time and time again, we know.
please report their account and their works. they have not written these pieces themselves and should not be allowed to post them so freely and take the credit for them when so many talented writers on this app have spent their time and creativity making these fics for other people to enjoy.
if you are someone who has had their work stolen, know that iâm here for you. i stand with you. what this person is doing is not at all okay and it needs to be stopped.
Willmack x reader playing a spicy game of truth or dare (friends to lovers)
Triple Threat
pairing: Macklin celebrini x bsf!reader x Will Smith
summary: You're caught between Will and Macklin during a late-night game of truth or dare.
CW: Smut, mdni, threesome, oral sex, boy kissing, friends to lovers.
The living room is bathed in a soft glow with empty pizza boxes scattered around the coffee table. It's well past midnight, but none of you feel like sleeping.
"I'm bored," Will declares, flopping back against the couch cushions. "We should do something."
"Like what?" Macklin asks from the armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
Will's eyes light up with mischief as they land on you. "Truth or dare?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Aren't we a little old for that?"
"Never too old for truth or dare," Will insists, sitting up straighter. "Especially the way I play it."
Macklin shifts in his chair, interest piqued. "What way is that?"
"No limits," Will says with a grin. "Anything goes. Chicken to play?"
You glance between them, Will with his challenging smirk and Macklin with his curious expression. The three of you have been friends since you started working as the Sharks' social media coordinator last season. There's always been an undercurrent of something more between the three of you, but no one's ever acted on it.
"I'm in," you say, settling cross-legged on the rug.
Macklin nods. "Me too."
Will rubs his hands together gleefully. "Excellent. I'll go first. Macklin, truth or dare?"
"Dare," Macklin says without hesitation.
Will's grin widens. "I dare you to kiss someone in this room."
Macklin's eyes meet yours across the dimly lit room. There's a question in them, but also a challenge. He rises from his chair and crosses to where you're sitting on the floor, kneeling in front of you.
"May I?" he asks softly.
You nod, heart pounding as Macklin leans in. His lips are soft against yours, tentative at first, then more confident. When he pulls away, your breath catches.
"Truth or dare?" Macklin asks, his voice slightly husky.
Will considers for a moment. "Truth."
"When was the last time you thought about kissing her?" Macklin asks, gesturing toward you.
Will's eyes lock with yours. "This morning when I saw her in the media room."
Heat floods your cheeks as Macklin returns to his chair, a knowing smile on his face.
"Your turn," Will says, turning to you. "Truth or dare?"
You consider your options carefully. "Dare."
"I dare you to sit on Macklin's lap for the rest of the game," Will says, his expression unreadable.
Macklin pats his thighs invitingly as you rise from the floor. When you settle onto his lap, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You can feel his heart beating steadily against your back.
"Truth or dare?" you ask, your voice a little unsteady.
"Dare," Will responds.
"I dare you to kiss Macklin."
Will's eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn't hesitate. He crosses the room and kneels in front of Macklin, cupping his face in his hands. The kiss is deeper than the one Macklin gave you, more confident. When they pull apart, both are breathing heavily.
"Truth or dare?" Will asks, turning to you again.
"Truth," you decide.
"Have you ever thought about being with both of us at the same time?"
Your face flushes with heat as Macklin's arms tighten around your waist. "Yes," you admit softly.
"How often?" Will presses.
"More than I should," you confess.
Macklin's breath catches against your ear. "Truth or dare?" he asks Will.
"Dare," Will says immediately.
"I dare you to take off her shirt."
Your hands tremble slightly as Will reaches for the hem of your t-shirt. His fingers brush against your skin as he lifts it over your head, revealing the black lace bra underneath.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire.
"Truth or dare?" you ask Will, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Truth."
"Do you want to fuck me?"
Will's eyes widen slightly at your bluntness. "More than anything."
"Then prove it," you challenge.
Macklin's hands slide up your sides as Will leans in to kiss you. This kiss is different from the one with Macklin, hungrier and more demanding. When Will pulls back, Macklin turns your face toward him, capturing your lips in another kiss.
"We should take this somewhere more comfortable," Macklin suggests against your lips.
Will nods, standing up and reaching for your hand. "Bedroom?"
You lead them down the hall to your bedroom, the anticipation building with each step. When you reach the bed, Will turns to face you both.
"Last chance to back out," he says softly.
You shake your head, reaching for the hem of Macklin's shirt. "No backing out now."
Clothes disappear quickly until all three of you are naked. Will and Macklin are both beautiful in their own way, Will lean and toned, Macklin taller with broader shoulders.
"Who first?" Macklin asks, his hands roaming over your sides.
"Both," you answer, lying back on the bed.
They exchange a look, then Will positions himself between your legs while Macklin kneels beside your head. When Will's mouth makes contact with your clit, you gasp, your back arching off the bed. At the same time, Macklin leans down to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth.
Your hands find their way into Will's hair, holding him close as he brings you closer to the edge.
"Will," you gasp against Macklin's lips. "Don't stop."
He doesn't, doubling his efforts as Macklin's mouth moves to your neck, then lower to your breasts. When Will slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you.
As you're still coming down, they switch places. Macklin's technique is different from Will's, slower and more methodical, but just as effective.
"Again," Will murmurs against your ear, his hand rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Let me see you come again."
It doesn't take long for you to come again.
When you open your eyes, both are watching you with hungry expressions.
"Who first?" you ask, your voice breathless.
They exchange another look, then Will nods. "You first."
Macklin positions himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against your still-sensitive folds. When he finally pushes inside, you both groan at the sensation. He starts slow, building a rhythm that has you arching against him.
Will moves to kneel beside your head and you turn to take him in your mouth. The taste of him on your tongue combined with Macklin's steady thrusts has your head spinning.
"Fuck," Will groans, his hands tangling in your hair. "Just like that."
Macklin picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours faster now. The room fills with the sounds of sex â skin against skin, breathless moans, desperate pleas.
"I'm close," Macklin warns, his rhythm becoming erratic.
"Me too," Will adds, his hips thrusting shallowly into your mouth.
When Macklin's thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles, you come again, your body trembling with pleasure. The sensation pushes both of them over the edge, Macklin burying himself deep inside you with a groan, Will spilling into your mouth with a curse.
For a moment, nobody moves, all three of you breathing heavily in the aftermath. Then Macklin withdraws, collapsing beside you as Will does the same.
"Well," Will says finally, breaking the silence. "That escalated quickly."
You laugh, turning to face them both. "I'm not complaining."
"Me neither," Macklin agrees, propping himself up on an elbow. "But what does this mean for us?"
You consider for a moment. "It means we're not just friends anymore."
"Good," Will says, reaching for your hand. "Because I've been wanting to do that all season."
"Me too," Macklin admits, lacing his fingers through yours on your other side.
The entire first day of 3rd grade was a drag. You sat alone during lunch, you watched from the swing sets everyone else play basketball or four square during recess. Nobody talked to you or tried to get to know the new kid in class. Go figure, you thought as you sat on the bench outside the main building waiting for your dad to pick you up. Will was walking past you with his friends and snickered at you throwing a rock at you. âUgly!â He shouted at you making the other kids laugh at your embarrassment. The rock hit your arm and left a mark there drawing a little bit of blood since the rock was sharp. Wiping away the blood quickly seeing your fatherâs station wagon pull up to the student pick up line. You couldnât grab your backpack fast enough before running to the only familiar thing youâve seen all day. Once you got in the car, you broke down crying. It finally caught up to you. All of the stress of moving. Leaving behind the only two people who were willing to care about you. Leaving behind the desert you called a neighborhood. You missed everything you left in Arizona. Your father sighed and stroked your back. âWhat happened Y/N? It wasnât a good day?â He asked you. You shook your head no and frowned deeply crossing your arms across your chest. âCan we just go home?â You asked in a begging manner looking out the window upset. Your Dad didnât say another word and he began to drive home. He felt horrible. He knew this move wasnât going to be easy but he wanted his daughter to have a good first day and a fresh start. Once he parked in the street in front of the house, you opened your door and went inside without saying or looking at him. You werenât angry. You were just done with today and didnât want to talk about how it went with your father. Throwing your backpack randomly in the room, you collapsed onto your bed staring at the ceiling. âThings would be easier if you were here.â You said softly hoping your Angel can hear you. Your mother passed away from ovarian cancer 1 year 3 months and 14 days ago. It was the hardest thing you ever had to endure. You were and still are hanging on by a thread without your mother in your life. Youâre thankful you have your Dad but it wasnât the same. No girl talk. No talking about boys. No shopping. No makeup. Nothing like that. You hear a knock on the closed bedroom door and told him to come in. He peeked his head inside holding a bowl of ramen noodles. Your favorite. âHey kid, I think this will cheer you up.â He told you placing it on your nightstand. âThanks Dad.â You stated sitting up starting eating your dinner. You noticed him standing there trying to form words. âDad, I donât want to talk about it okay? Tomorrow?â You asked him with a small smile and begging eyes. He sighed but nodded his head understandably. âAlright, goodnight. Love you.â He said kissing your cheek before he took the empty bowl with him as he exit your room. You wished tomorrow will be a better day.
October 31
Today was Halloween and everybody in your school had dressed up. The hallways were decorated with homemade Halloween decorations, the classroom doors were all painted with Halloween theme colors. It was awesome! You loved Halloween. Days prior, you asked your father if you could buy Halloween grams for your class along with candy. Your Dad thought that was a nice gesture and gladly took you shopping for the âBoo Grams!â He loved how excited you were to engage with your classmates despite not one of them interacting with you for the last 13 weeks that youâve been in Boston. At least you were trying to make friends. You signed your name on each one and wrote a cute poem or saying customizing it to each student. Packing one gram with one piece of candy, you tied it with a cute Halloween bow. Taking all of the 34 grams to class on October 31, you handed yours out. Not one person thanked you or acknowledge your presence. It made you a little sad but you tried to engage with your peers when Ms. Rachel got the games started. You lost a round of gold fish. âHaha loser!â Will exclaimed as he won the prize for the round. âWilliam, that was not nice. Apologize right now.â Ms. Rachel said scolding Will who huffed and crossed his arms with a roll of his blue eyes. âIâm sorry.â He mumbled not meaning the word avoiding getting his price taken away by your teacher. Not saying a word, you got up from the magic rug and went back to your desk. Hiding your head in your arms on your desk, you couldnât help but to cry. Ms. Rachel got the rest of the classroom busy with a new game before she walked to you. âY/N, honey, please donât cry. Heâs just a boy.â She said softly crouching down beside you rubbing your back. âLeave me alone.â You said not wanting to be talked to. Before she can even open her mouth to say something, you grabbed your backpack and took off out of the classroom. Your feet didnât let you down as you ran out of the schoolâs doors that led to the outside world. You have to get out of here. Now. You hated Boston.
could you do some macklin and will headcanons how they would be like as your boyfriend
WS#2 as a BF Headcannon:
Wherever you are, Willâs eyes and attention are on you. Not matter if youâre by his side or across the room
He praises you on the daily. Complimenting everything you do. From the way you cook breakfast to the way you do your hair/makeup.
Willâs a huge family guy so when you are introduced to them, they loved you and you loved them. You spend time with Grace during the week weekly and have family dinners.
PDA isnât an issue when it comes to him. Heâs not the jealous type but he is territorial so if he notices men gawking over his woman, Will kisses you to prove to everybody that youâre his and he is yours.
Will is loyal. He never looks at another woman well other than the females who interview him before, during or after his hockey games but itâs his job. Itâd be awkward not to you know?
Will is so grateful and blessed to have you in his life. He thanks God for bringing you to him each and every night when he prays.
He loves to spoil you. Shopping. Spas. Nails. Hair. Anything you want or need, Will doesnât hesitate to make sure you get what you want. Youâre his Princess.
Will loves sex with you. Your body satisfies him each and every time you two connect. Whether thatâs the rough and hard fucking or slow passionate love making, he pleasures you first and that gets him off.
He doesnât mind doing self care with you. Face masks. Foot soaks. Under eye patches. Will keeps his nails clean and short.
MC#71 as a BF Headcannon:
* Macklin isnât settle when it comes to PDA. He loves to hold your hand, kiss your cheek or lips, and have you by his side.
* Heâs very attentive about your ideas, thoughts, wants, dislikes and likes.
* He pays attention to every little detail. To the way you like your coffee to the random freckle on your foot.
* Mack loves having you at his games home or away to support him wearing his jersey but he also loves to support you and your hobbies/career.
* He knew he was in love with you very early on so celebrating being together for 5 months, Mack gave you a promise ring.
* Mack also asked you to move in with him pretty soon after you two became official. He just hated being away from you. You feel like home.
* Sometimes heâs very hard headed and stubborn when you two disagree on things but he simmers down and tries to find the middle ground to meet you at.
* Macklin loves to cuddle! He likes to be spooned sometimes. Most of the time though he is the one holding you from behind.
* Lots and lots of âI love youâ, cuddles and kisses.
[This takes place in early 2010âs, not modern day/time.]
You stared out the window as your Dad drove through the Arizona desert on Interstate 40. Staring out the window, you mentally take a picture of the painted scenery in your mind as a treasured memory. You were born and raised in Arizona all of your life. Now, your father got a job opportunity in Boston, Massachusetts. So the two of you were moving across country. Were you excited for this move? NO. You had a hard time making friends. Being a book worm and loving insects/critters wasnât ânormalâ to other kids your age. They thought you were a nerd and they bullied you but you did have two friends who you became real close with. Sage Ames and Amanda Hamilton. The both of them were in your 1st and 2nd grade classes. When it was time to say goodbye, all three of you cried while hugging. You promised youâd call and so did they. You miss them already. The thought of being the new kid in your 3rd grade class was a dreadful thought. You can already predict the bulling, threats, and kids talking smack. Sighing heavily, you closed your eyes after leaning back against the back leather seat and tried to make reality a dreamâŠ..
You woke up to the station wagon slowing down to stop in front of a traditional Boston style house. It wasnât small but it wasnât big either.
âWelcome home kiddo.â Your dad turning his head to give you a wink and a smile as he put the car in park.
You sighed heavily as you got out and looked around. The streets were busy. Vehicles honking, bicycles and motorcycles, and very tall industrial buildings towered the city. This was not the desert youâre used to.
âWhy is it so busy?â You asked taking a box inside with him.
âWeâre not in Arizona anymore, honey.â He said looking down at you ruffling your hair.
âYeah, I know.â You mumbled under your breath following him back outside to get more boxes.
Soon, you were sitting on your twin size bed in your bedroom that was now heavily packed with boxes that needed to be unpacked.
August 7th.
Today was the first day of school.
You put your hair in the usual hairstyle that you did daily. Pigtails. You cleaned your new glasses with the provided cloth before looking over your outfit. Black overalls over a Hannah Montana tee and platform oxfords. Simple. Like you. Smiling at yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your new Powerpuff Girls backpack that you bought with your Dad when he took you school supply shopping.
âAre you excited?â Your father asked you when you made your way downstairs.
âNot really.â You muttered under your breath sitting at the table watching him make you a bowl of cereal. He wasnât really a cook.
âCâmon Y/N. You need to have a better attitude. Remember what I say all the time? You make your day. Just do your best.â He said kissing my head as he placed the cereal in front of me to eat.
After I finished my breakfast, he took me to school before he went to work. My Dad didnât want me to walk just yet because I didnât know my way around just yet.
Walking into class, I watched my classmates talk in their own groups. Clearly theyâve been friends for a while possibly since they were in disappear or kindergarten.
Some kids looked me up and down with ugly looks.
I played with the buttons on my overalls trying not to cause myself unwanted attention when I heard a womanâs voice.
âAre you Y/N L/N?â She asked leaning to me with her hands on her knees with a welcoming and friendly smile.
I nodded my head and gave her a small uneasy grin.
âWelcome to third grade! Iâm Ms. Rachel. Itâs so nice to meet you. I love your shoes!â She said enthusiastically clearly trying to make me feel less uncomfortable and more welcomed.
I followed the class and her into the classroom and waited for my turn to get my assigned seat along with my cubby.
âOkay, so youâll be sitting by Will and your cubby is number 5.â My teacher said guiding me to the cubbies where we can put our backpacks in.
She then lead me to my desk for the next year.
âWill, meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Will.â Ms. Rachel said smiling down at a blonde haired blue eyed boy.
He looked me up and down trying not to say anything rude in front of our teacher.
I didnât say anything as I sat by him and began to get out my Lisa Frank pencil case and matching notebook.
âDo you always dress like that?â Will asked me laughing with some of the other kids.
I frowned to myself as I sunk into my seat trying to make myself little again.
no one tried, to read my eyesâno one but you. wish it weren't true
the heavy hum of the air conditioner in his vancouver apartment was the only sound that had filled the room for the last three hours.
ever since the surgery on his shoulderâthe brutal, season-altering injury from summer camp that had completely derailed his mind and bodyâconnor had become a ghost of himself. the hyper-focused, confident boyfriend you knew had been replaced by someone who was drowning in a toxic mix of frustration and absolute self-pity.
his left arm was strapped securely into a dark medical sling against his chest, locking him into a state of physical helplessness that he despised more than anything in the world.
you walked out of the kitchen, wiping your hands on a dish towel. you had spent the last hour meticulously making the exact chicken and rice dish he liked, cutting the chicken into perfectly small pieces so he wouldn't have to struggle with a fork and knife. you set the warm plate on the coffee table in front of him, along with a fresh glass of water and the two white pain pills he was supposed to take at six o'clock.
"food's ready, con," you murmured softly, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, giving him the space he had been demanding all week. "you need to take those pills before the ache gets bad again tonight."
connor didn't look at the plate. he was staring at the blank tv screen, his jaw set so tightly the muscle near his ear was ticking frantically. his hair was messy, hanging into his eyes, and the dark circles underneath them made him look entirely hollowed out.
"i'm not hungry," he muttered, his voice completely flat.
"you haven't eaten anything since breakfast, baby. you need to eat to heal," you said gently, pushing the plate just an inch closer to him.
"i said i'm not hungry, y/n," he snapped, his voice suddenly rising and biting. he finally turned his head to look at you, his eyes entirely cold, completely guarded by the walls he had been building since the moment he woke up in the recovery room. "just leave it. stop hovering over me."
the silence that followed his outburst was deafening.
the sheer injustice of his words felt like a physical slap to the face. the exhaustion of the last three weeksâthe sleepless nights, the alarms set at 3:00 am to rotate his ice packs, the absolute terror you felt watching him get wheeled into the operating roomâall of it came rushing up your throat at once.
a hot, heavy tear spilled over your lashes, tracking quickly down your cheek. you didn't even try to wipe it away.
"are you kidding me?" you choked out, your voice trembling violently as you stared at him.
connor's face faltered for a second at the sight of your tears, the cold anger in his eyes flickering, but you didn't let him speak. you stood up from the couch, your hands shaking as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest.
"you think i'm doing this out of pity?" you cried, your voice breaking on a sob as you looked down at him. "you think i'm cutting up your food and sleeping on the floor next to your bed so i don't accidentally bump your arm because i feel obligated?"
connor swallowed hard, his left hand slowly releasing its death grip on the cushion. "the word isn't obligation, y/n. i'm just sayingâ"
"no, shut up and look at me," you cried, pointing a shaking finger at him, the tears falling freely now. "how dare you. how dare you think so little of me, and of us, that you think i look at you like you're broken. you are the one pitying yourself, connor! i'm here because i love you. i'm here because when you hurt, i hurt. i cook for you because i want you to get strong again. i remind you about your pills because i can't stand seeing you in pain. and all i've done since the moment you got hurt is try to be whatever you needed me to be... and you're just sitting there punishing me for it because you're mad at the universe."
the anger completely drained out of connor's face, leaving behind nothing but absolute devastation. he looked at the plate of food you had carefully prepared for him, the pills set out perfectly on the napkin, and then up at your face, red and stained with tears.
you couldn't even look at him anymore. the suffocating walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on you, trapping you in a room filled with his bitterness. before he could even gather the words to answer, you grabbed your keys and your phone off the kitchen counter.
"y/n, wait," connor called out, his voice instantly losing its sharp edge, dropping into a panicked register as he tried to shift his weight to stand up.
you didn't turn back. you slammed the front door behind you, the loud, echoing thud cutting off the sound of his voice as you walked down the hall and into the cool vancouver evening.
it was exactly midnight when the soft click of the front door unlocking broke the silence of the dark apartment.
the city outside had gone quiet, and the anger that had carried you out of the building hours ago had completely dissolved, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. you gently pushed the door open, slipping your shoes off at the entryway, intending to just crawl into the guest bed without making a sound.
but when you stepped into the living room, the amber light from the streetlights revealed a silhouette on the couch.
connor hadn't gone to bed. he was sitting straight up, his left hand loosely gripping the edge of the fabric, his head slumped slightly forward as he drifted in a light, uncomfortable sleep. the television was completely off, plunging the room into shadows. on the coffee table in front of him, the plate of chicken and rice sat entirely cold, but the napkin next to it was emptyâhe had taken the two white pain pills you left for him.
the slight creak of the floorboard made his eyes instantly snap open.
connor blinked heavily in the dim light, his gaze shifting around the room until his eyes landed right on you standing near the hallway. the terrifying relief that washed over his features made his shoulders visibly drop, his chest letting out a long, shuddering breath.
"you came back," he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse from hours of sitting in the dark alone.
you stayed where you were, your fingers tightening around your phone. "i live here too, connor. i just needed to breathe."
connor swallowed hard, his eyes tracking down to his lap. he looked small in the shadows, the heavy black medical sling strapped across his chest looking like a permanent weight pulling him down.
"i sat here the whole time," he murmured quietly, his left hand coming up to nervously rub the back of his neck, his hair messy and tangled from the long day. "i kept looking at the door. every time a car drove past the window, i thought it was you coming back to pack your things."
"is that what you think of me?" you asked, your voice incredibly soft, the anger replaced by a dull sadness as you took two slow steps closer to the couch. "you think the second things get hard, i'm just going to walk out on you?"
"no," connor choked out, his eyes snapping back up to yours, completely glossy and wide with fear in the dark. "no, baby, that's not it. i'm just... i'm so terrified that i'm turning into someone you can't love anymore. i look in the mirror and i don't even recognize the guy staring back at me. i can't skate. i can't train. i'm just a useless weight in this apartment, and i hated myself so much today that i forced you to hate me too."
hearing him admit it, hearing the raw vulnerability of your boyfriend who had the weight of the entire hockey world on his shoulders and felt like he was failing, completely broke the last of your resistance.
you walked over to the couch, slowly sinking down onto the cushion right next to his left side, leaving enough space so you wouldn't touch his bad shoulder.
"i don't hate you, connor," you whispered, looking at the profile of his jaw in the moonlight. "i could never hate you. but you hurt me today. you made me feel like all the care i've been putting into you was just a chore to me."
connor immediately shifted, turning his entire body toward you as much as his sling would allow. his left hand reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as his palm came to rest flat against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin right under your eye where the tears had dried hours ago.
"i know," he breathed, a single tear finally escaping his own eye and cutting a path through the dark. "i'm an idiot. i looked at the plate after you left. i saw how small you cut the pieces so i wouldn't have to struggle. i sat here for four hours thinking about how i treated the only person who actually gives a damn about me when the cameras are off. i'm so sorry, baby. please don't let me push you away."
you closed your eyes, leaning your face into the warmth of his palm, the familiar scent of his soap finally making the knot in your chest unwind. "you have to stop fighting me, con. we're supposed to be a team."
"i'm on your team," he whispered, his forehead leaning down to gently rest against yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips as he held you close with his one good arm. "i promise. i'll eat the food tomorrow. i'll take the pills. just don't leave the apartment again."
a/n: i hope he feels better and heal sooner, he recently signed and i wish him well omfg evil eye for you connor. #divinely protection.
could you do one with Mack where the reader wants to wait to have sex until marriage? Thank you, love your stuff đ
thank you my love đ
Worth the Wait
pairing: Macklin Celebrini x female reader
description: You tell Macklin you want to wait until marriage for sex.
TW: Discussion of sexual boundaries, fluff.
masterlist
The evening air is warm as you and Macklin walk hand-in-hand along the pier, the city lights twinkling across the water. It's your sixth date today and every moment with him feels more perfect than the last. He's thoughtful, funny and surprisingly deep for someone so young and already so successful in his early hockey career.
"You're quiet tonight," Macklin observes, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Everything okay?"
You nod, but your heart is racing. This is the conversation you've been dreading and avoiding with past guys you've dated. The one that usually sends them running.
"There's something I need to tell you. I feel like I should have done it sooner, but it's just not something I enjoy talking about," you begin, stopping to face him.
Macklin's expression immediately turns serious. "I'm listening. Whatever you want to tell me, I'm not going anywhere."
You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I really like you, Mack. A lot. More than I've liked anyone in a long time."
His face softens. "I really like you too. A lot."
"But there's something about me you should know," you continue, your voice trembling slightly. "Something that⊠affects where things might go with us."
He doesn't say anything, just waits patiently for you to continue.
"I'm waiting," you blurt out, then immediately feel foolish. "I mean, I want to wait. Until I'm married. To have sex."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of past rejections. You brace yourself for the awkward silence, for the excuses or for the gentle but firm "I don't think this is going to work out."
Instead, Macklin just nods slowly. "Okay."
You blink, sure you must have heard him wrong. "Okay? That's all you have to say?"
"What else would you like me to say?" he asks, genuinely confused. "Is there a specific response you're expecting?"
"I don't know," you admit, feeling flustered. "Maybe that you're disappointed? Or that this changes things? Or that you can't be in a relationship without sex?"
Macklin considers this for a moment. "I'm not disappointed. I'm not surprised either, actually. You seem like someone who thinks carefully about big decisions."
He takes both your hands in his. "And this doesn't change how I feel about you. I like you for who you are, not for what I think might happen between us physically."
Tears well in your eyes, completely overwhelmed by his reaction. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms with a small smile. "But I do have a question, if that's okay."
You nod, bracing yourself.
"Can I ask why?" he asks gently. "Not because I'm challenging your decision, I'm not at all. I just want to understand you better."
The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. "It's partly my faith," you explain slowly. "But it's also⊠personal. I've seen how casual sex can complicate things, how it can cloud judgment and make it hard to know if feelings are real or just physical. I want to build something real with someone, something that lasts. And for me, that means waiting."
Macklin listens intently, nodding along as you speak. "That makes a lot of sense. And it's actually⊠pretty admirable."
You can't help but laugh at that. "Most guys don't see it that way."
"Then most guys are idiots," he says simply. "Can I be honest about something?"
"Please," you say, though you're suddenly nervous again.
"I was worried about where tonight was going," he admits, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Not because I was expecting anything to happen, but because I really like you and I was afraid of moving too fast and messing things up. Your decision actually takes the pressure off."
You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "You're not just saying that?"
"I'm not just saying that," he confirms. "I want to get to know you better. I want to take you on more dates, to talk until 3 AM and I want to watch more reality TV with you even though I feel my brain cells slowly dying every time that we do. Sex doesn't have to be part of that right away. Or ever, if that's what you decide."
The relief that washes over you is so overwhelming it leaves you shaky. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," he says, pulling you into a gentle hug. "Just know that I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
no one tried, to read my eyesâno one but you. wish it weren't true
the heavy hum of the air conditioner in his vancouver apartment was the only sound that had filled the room for the last three hours.
ever since the surgery on his shoulderâthe brutal, season-altering injury from summer camp that had completely derailed his mind and bodyâconnor had become a ghost of himself. the hyper-focused, confident boyfriend you knew had been replaced by someone who was drowning in a toxic mix of frustration and absolute self-pity.
his left arm was strapped securely into a dark medical sling against his chest, locking him into a state of physical helplessness that he despised more than anything in the world.
you walked out of the kitchen, wiping your hands on a dish towel. you had spent the last hour meticulously making the exact chicken and rice dish he liked, cutting the chicken into perfectly small pieces so he wouldn't have to struggle with a fork and knife. you set the warm plate on the coffee table in front of him, along with a fresh glass of water and the two white pain pills he was supposed to take at six o'clock.
"food's ready, con," you murmured softly, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, giving him the space he had been demanding all week. "you need to take those pills before the ache gets bad again tonight."
connor didn't look at the plate. he was staring at the blank tv screen, his jaw set so tightly the muscle near his ear was ticking frantically. his hair was messy, hanging into his eyes, and the dark circles underneath them made him look entirely hollowed out.
"i'm not hungry," he muttered, his voice completely flat.
"you haven't eaten anything since breakfast, baby. you need to eat to heal," you said gently, pushing the plate just an inch closer to him.
"i said i'm not hungry, y/n," he snapped, his voice suddenly rising and biting. he finally turned his head to look at you, his eyes entirely cold, completely guarded by the walls he had been building since the moment he woke up in the recovery room. "just leave it. stop hovering over me."
the silence that followed his outburst was deafening.
the sheer injustice of his words felt like a physical slap to the face. the exhaustion of the last three weeksâthe sleepless nights, the alarms set at 3:00 am to rotate his ice packs, the absolute terror you felt watching him get wheeled into the operating roomâall of it came rushing up your throat at once.
a hot, heavy tear spilled over your lashes, tracking quickly down your cheek. you didn't even try to wipe it away.
"are you kidding me?" you choked out, your voice trembling violently as you stared at him.
connor's face faltered for a second at the sight of your tears, the cold anger in his eyes flickering, but you didn't let him speak. you stood up from the couch, your hands shaking as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest.
"you think i'm doing this out of pity?" you cried, your voice breaking on a sob as you looked down at him. "you think i'm cutting up your food and sleeping on the floor next to your bed so i don't accidentally bump your arm because i feel obligated?"
connor swallowed hard, his left hand slowly releasing its death grip on the cushion. "the word isn't obligation, y/n. i'm just sayingâ"
"no, shut up and look at me," you cried, pointing a shaking finger at him, the tears falling freely now. "how dare you. how dare you think so little of me, and of us, that you think i look at you like you're broken. you are the one pitying yourself, connor! i'm here because i love you. i'm here because when you hurt, i hurt. i cook for you because i want you to get strong again. i remind you about your pills because i can't stand seeing you in pain. and all i've done since the moment you got hurt is try to be whatever you needed me to be... and you're just sitting there punishing me for it because you're mad at the universe."
the anger completely drained out of connor's face, leaving behind nothing but absolute devastation. he looked at the plate of food you had carefully prepared for him, the pills set out perfectly on the napkin, and then up at your face, red and stained with tears.
you couldn't even look at him anymore. the suffocating walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on you, trapping you in a room filled with his bitterness. before he could even gather the words to answer, you grabbed your keys and your phone off the kitchen counter.
"y/n, wait," connor called out, his voice instantly losing its sharp edge, dropping into a panicked register as he tried to shift his weight to stand up.
you didn't turn back. you slammed the front door behind you, the loud, echoing thud cutting off the sound of his voice as you walked down the hall and into the cool vancouver evening.
it was exactly midnight when the soft click of the front door unlocking broke the silence of the dark apartment.
the city outside had gone quiet, and the anger that had carried you out of the building hours ago had completely dissolved, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. you gently pushed the door open, slipping your shoes off at the entryway, intending to just crawl into the guest bed without making a sound.
but when you stepped into the living room, the amber light from the streetlights revealed a silhouette on the couch.
connor hadn't gone to bed. he was sitting straight up, his left hand loosely gripping the edge of the fabric, his head slumped slightly forward as he drifted in a light, uncomfortable sleep. the television was completely off, plunging the room into shadows. on the coffee table in front of him, the plate of chicken and rice sat entirely cold, but the napkin next to it was emptyâhe had taken the two white pain pills you left for him.
the slight creak of the floorboard made his eyes instantly snap open.
connor blinked heavily in the dim light, his gaze shifting around the room until his eyes landed right on you standing near the hallway. the terrifying relief that washed over his features made his shoulders visibly drop, his chest letting out a long, shuddering breath.
"you came back," he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse from hours of sitting in the dark alone.
you stayed where you were, your fingers tightening around your phone. "i live here too, connor. i just needed to breathe."
connor swallowed hard, his eyes tracking down to his lap. he looked small in the shadows, the heavy black medical sling strapped across his chest looking like a permanent weight pulling him down.
"i sat here the whole time," he murmured quietly, his left hand coming up to nervously rub the back of his neck, his hair messy and tangled from the long day. "i kept looking at the door. every time a car drove past the window, i thought it was you coming back to pack your things."
"is that what you think of me?" you asked, your voice incredibly soft, the anger replaced by a dull sadness as you took two slow steps closer to the couch. "you think the second things get hard, i'm just going to walk out on you?"
"no," connor choked out, his eyes snapping back up to yours, completely glossy and wide with fear in the dark. "no, baby, that's not it. i'm just... i'm so terrified that i'm turning into someone you can't love anymore. i look in the mirror and i don't even recognize the guy staring back at me. i can't skate. i can't train. i'm just a useless weight in this apartment, and i hated myself so much today that i forced you to hate me too."
hearing him admit it, hearing the raw vulnerability of your boyfriend who had the weight of the entire hockey world on his shoulders and felt like he was failing, completely broke the last of your resistance.
you walked over to the couch, slowly sinking down onto the cushion right next to his left side, leaving enough space so you wouldn't touch his bad shoulder.
"i don't hate you, connor," you whispered, looking at the profile of his jaw in the moonlight. "i could never hate you. but you hurt me today. you made me feel like all the care i've been putting into you was just a chore to me."
connor immediately shifted, turning his entire body toward you as much as his sling would allow. his left hand reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as his palm came to rest flat against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin right under your eye where the tears had dried hours ago.
"i know," he breathed, a single tear finally escaping his own eye and cutting a path through the dark. "i'm an idiot. i looked at the plate after you left. i saw how small you cut the pieces so i wouldn't have to struggle. i sat here for four hours thinking about how i treated the only person who actually gives a damn about me when the cameras are off. i'm so sorry, baby. please don't let me push you away."
you closed your eyes, leaning your face into the warmth of his palm, the familiar scent of his soap finally making the knot in your chest unwind. "you have to stop fighting me, con. we're supposed to be a team."
"i'm on your team," he whispered, his forehead leaning down to gently rest against yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips as he held you close with his one good arm. "i promise. i'll eat the food tomorrow. i'll take the pills. just don't leave the apartment again."
a/n: i hope he feels better and heal sooner, he recently signed and i wish him well omfg evil eye for you connor. #divinely protection.
hi!!! love your work so so much! could you do either macklin or connor bedard where their best friend is looking through the little section on instagram where you can see posts that a certain account has been tagged in and he sees reader being affectionate with another man. he sends it to him (mack or connor) and thereâs an argument with cheating accusations but it comes out that thatâs her cousin? thanks anyways!
Mistaken
pairing: Connor Bedard x female reader
description: Connor confronts you with photos of another man.
TW: Jealousy, relationship conflict, misunderstanding, emotional distress, established relationship.
masterlist
Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, interrupting the quiet evening you'd been enjoying with Love Island and takeout. You glance at the screen and see Connor's name. A smile forms as you reach for it, but it fades when you see his message: "We need to talk. Now."
"What's wrong?" you reply, your heart starting to race.
"Frank just sent me something," he types back quickly. "Something you should probably explain in person. Come over?"
Your stomach drops.
"I'm on my way," you respond, already grabbing your keys.
Twenty minutes later, you're letting yourself into Connor's apartment with the spare key he gave you last month. He's standing in the living room with his phone in hand.
"Hey, babe," you start cautiously. "What's going on?"
He looks up, his eyes filled with hurt. "Frank was looking through tagged photos on Instagram. Found some interesting ones of you."
Your confusion deepens. "What are you talking about?"
He turns his phone toward you, showing a photo of you with your arms wrapped around a tall man, your head resting on his shoulder as you both laugh at something.
"Who is he?" Connor asks, his voice tight with controlled anger.
You recognize the photo immediately, it was from a wedding you attended last month. "That's not..."
"Don't lie to me," he interrupts, his voice rising. "Just tell me who he is. How long has this been going on?"
"Connor, you're not understanding," you try to explain, reaching for his hand.
He pulls away. "How have you been cheating on me? Were you ever planning on telling me?"
Tears well in your eyes at his accusation. "It's not what you think!"
"Really?" he scoffs, swiping to another photo, this one of the same man kissing your cheek as you pose for a picture together. "Because it looks pretty clear to me."
"He's my cousin!" you cry out, frustration mixing with hurt.
Connor freezes, his eyes widening slightly. "Your cousin?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, wiping at the tears now streaming down your face. "We went to a wedding together! I told you about it, remember? I said I was going to a wedding last month."
Recognition dawns on Connor's face, followed immediately by guilt. "I⊠I thought you said it was your cousin's wedding, not that you were going with your cousin."
"Because you werent listening!" you explain, exasperated. "I told you I was going with him and my parents. We all flew in for it!"
Connor runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. "I'm⊠fuck... I'm such an idiot."
"You are," you agree, but without heat. "You really are."
"I'm so sorry," he says softly, finally closing the distance between you and pulling you into his arms.
You push him away, the hurt too fresh to accept his comfort. "Don't. Just... don't touch me right now."
"Baby, please," he begs, his eyes filled with regret. "I know I messed up. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" you laugh, but it's a bitter, broken sound. "You accused me of cheating, Connor. You looked at those photos and your first thought was that I was betraying you. After everything we've been through, after all the times I've told you how much I love you, you still think so little of me."
"That's not it," he insists, reaching for you again. "I was scared. The thought of losing you..."
"You'd rather lose me by pushing me away with accusations?" you retort, stepping back. "You didn't even ask me. You just decided I was guilty based on some photos Frank sent you."
"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't thinking. I just saw you looking at someone else the way you look at me and I lost my mind."
"So your first instinct is to assume the worst of me?" you ask, your voice cracking. "That's what this comes down to? You don't trust me."
"I do trust you," he insists. "I trust you with my life. I just... I don't trust myself not to lose you."
"You hurt me, Connor. You really hurt me," you say softly.
"I know," he whispers. "And I hate myself for it. I'll do anything to make it right."
You're quiet for a long moment, considering his words. "I need some time," you finally say. "I can't just pretend this didn't happen."
"Okay," he agrees reluctantly. "Whatever you need. Just... please don't give up on us."
"I'm not giving up on us," you assure him. "I just need to process this. And you're going to have to work to earn back my trust."
"I will," he promises, squeezing your hand. "Whatever it takes."
"Good," you say, leaning in to give him a small hug. "Because I'm not letting you go that easily."
"I love you," he says, his thumb stroking your cheek. "More than anything."
"I love you too, idiot," you reply, resting your head on his shoulder. "But you're buying me ice cream for the rest of the week."
[This takes place in early 2010âs, not modern day/time.]
You stared out the window as your Dad drove through the Arizona desert on Interstate 40. Staring out the window, you mentally take a picture of the painted scenery in your mind as a treasured memory. You were born and raised in Arizona all of your life. Now, your father got a job opportunity in Boston, Massachusetts. So the two of you were moving across country. Were you excited for this move? NO. You had a hard time making friends. Being a book worm and loving insects/critters wasnât ânormalâ to other kids your age. They thought you were a nerd and they bullied you but you did have two friends who you became real close with. Sage Ames and Amanda Hamilton. The both of them were in your 1st and 2nd grade classes. When it was time to say goodbye, all three of you cried while hugging. You promised youâd call and so did they. You miss them already. The thought of being the new kid in your 3rd grade class was a dreadful thought. You can already predict the bulling, threats, and kids talking smack. Sighing heavily, you closed your eyes after leaning back against the back leather seat and tried to make reality a dreamâŠ..
You woke up to the station wagon slowing down to stop in front of a traditional Boston style house. It wasnât small but it wasnât big either.
âWelcome home kiddo.â Your dad turning his head to give you a wink and a smile as he put the car in park.
You sighed heavily as you got out and looked around. The streets were busy. Vehicles honking, bicycles and motorcycles, and very tall industrial buildings towered the city. This was not the desert youâre used to.
âWhy is it so busy?â You asked taking a box inside with him.
âWeâre not in Arizona anymore, honey.â He said looking down at you ruffling your hair.
âYeah, I know.â You mumbled under your breath following him back outside to get more boxes.
Soon, you were sitting on your twin size bed in your bedroom that was now heavily packed with boxes that needed to be unpacked.
August 7th.
Today was the first day of school.
You put your hair in the usual hairstyle that you did daily. Pigtails. You cleaned your new glasses with the provided cloth before looking over your outfit. Black overalls over a Hannah Montana tee and platform oxfords. Simple. Like you. Smiling at yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your new Powerpuff Girls backpack that you bought with your Dad when he took you school supply shopping.
âAre you excited?â Your father asked you when you made your way downstairs.
âNot really.â You muttered under your breath sitting at the table watching him make you a bowl of cereal. He wasnât really a cook.
âCâmon Y/N. You need to have a better attitude. Remember what I say all the time? You make your day. Just do your best.â He said kissing my head as he placed the cereal in front of me to eat.
After I finished my breakfast, he took me to school before he went to work. My Dad didnât want me to walk just yet because I didnât know my way around just yet.
Walking into class, I watched my classmates talk in their own groups. Clearly theyâve been friends for a while possibly since they were in disappear or kindergarten.
Some kids looked me up and down with ugly looks.
I played with the buttons on my overalls trying not to cause myself unwanted attention when I heard a womanâs voice.
âAre you Y/N L/N?â She asked leaning to me with her hands on her knees with a welcoming and friendly smile.
I nodded my head and gave her a small uneasy grin.
âWelcome to third grade! Iâm Ms. Rachel. Itâs so nice to meet you. I love your shoes!â She said enthusiastically clearly trying to make me feel less uncomfortable and more welcomed.
I followed the class and her into the classroom and waited for my turn to get my assigned seat along with my cubby.
âOkay, so youâll be sitting by Will and your cubby is number 5.â My teacher said guiding me to the cubbies where we can put our backpacks in.
She then lead me to my desk for the next year.
âWill, meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Will.â Ms. Rachel said smiling down at a blonde haired blue eyed boy.
He looked me up and down trying not to say anything rude in front of our teacher.
I didnât say anything as I sat by him and began to get out my Lisa Frank pencil case and matching notebook.
âDo you always dress like that?â Will asked me laughing with some of the other kids.
I frowned to myself as I sunk into my seat trying to make myself little again.
You know the trend where a girl sees a cute stranger so she starts recording as if sheâs taking a video for her mom like âHey mom! This is him. Your future son in law. Say hi babe!â on TikTok and Insta?
Can I request the reader doing that to Will Smith?
Thanks doll đ«¶
Future Son-in-Law
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
summary: Doing the âHey mom! This is him. Your future son in law. Say hi babe!â trend on Will.
CW: Fluff.
The lights of the grocery store hum overhead as you steer your cart down the cereal aisle when you see him.
He's standing in front of the oatmeal section, examining a box of plain, boring-looking flakes with an intensity usually reserved for crime scene investigation. He's tall, with messy hair that falls into his eyes and a grey sweatshirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the broad set of his shoulders. He's cute. Like, distractingly cute.
Your heart does a little pitter-pat. This is your chance.
You casually position yourself a few feet away, angling your phone just so. You hit record, making sure your face is in the frame before you pan over to him. You put on your brightest, most cheerful voice.
"Hey, Mom!" you whisper-shout into the phone, trying not to laugh. "Just wanted to give you an update on the grocery shopping. But also⊠I have someone for you to meet."
You slowly pan the camera over, zooming in slightly on the unsuspecting man. He's now comparing two different brands of oatmeal, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"This is him," you continue, your voice full of mock seriousness. "Your future son-in-law. I know, I know, he's a keeper. Look at that face."
He must hear you, because his head snaps up, his eyes widening in confusion as they land on you and your pointed phone. A faint blush creeps up his neck.
You double down, walking closer with the camera still rolling. "Say hi to your future mother-in-law, babe!" you say, turning the phone to fully capture his shocked expression.
He blinks, his mouth falling open slightly. "Uh⊠hi?" he manages, his voice deeper and raspier than you expected. He looks utterly bewildered, his eyes darting between your phone and your face.
You can't hold it in anymore. A giggle escapes, and you quickly lower your phone, ending the recording. "Oh my god, I am so sorry," you say, laughing. "It's this stupid TikTok trend. I couldn't resist. You were just so focused on the oatmeal, it was perfect."
A slow smile spreads across his face, replacing the confusion. He lets out a small, relieved laugh. "A TikTok trend? So I'm not actually meeting my future mother-in-law right now?"
"Not unless she's secretly hiding behind the Lucky Charms," you reply, grinning. "Again, sorry. I promise I'm not usually this weird."
"Don't worry about it," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the most interesting thing that's happened to me during grocery shopping, that's for sure." He glances down at the two boxes of oatmeal still in his hands. "Now I'm second-guessing my choice, though. Is this the oatmeal of a dependable future son-in-law, or should I go for the fancy organic one?"
You laugh, feeling a strange, bubbly warmth spread through your chest. "Definitely the organic one. Shows you have good taste and are willing to invest in your health. Very son-in-law material."
He puts the plain box back and grabs the organic one, tossing it into his basket with a decisive nod. "Well, when you put it that way." He hesitates for a moment, then extends a hand. "I'm Will, by the way. The man who apparently has good taste in oatmeal."
You shake his hand, his grip warm and firm. "I'm the woman who ambushes strangers in the cereal aisle for social media content. It's nice to meet you, Will."
"Nice to meet you too," he says, not letting go of your hand just yet. "So, does this mean I'm going to be TikTok famous?"
"Only to my mom and my eighty followers," you assure him. "But I can tag you if you want. What's your handle?"
He chuckles, finally releasing your hand. "I think I'll pass. I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of fame." He glances at your basket, which is still conspicuously empty except for a carton of milk. "So, are you actually here to buy groceries, or just to scout for future husbands?"
"Both, apparently," you reply, your cheeks heating up. "But I seem to have gotten distracted."
"Well, I'd offer to help you shop, but I'm not sure my oatmeal-picking skills translate to other food groups," he says with a playful grin. "But I could give you my number. You know, in case you need a second opinion on anything else. Or if you want to continue this conversation somewhere that doesn't have fluorescent lighting."
You raise an eyebrow, your smile widening. "Are you asking me out, Will the Oatmeal Connoisseur?"
"I am," he confirms, his expression softening slightly. "I'd be an idiot not to."
You recite your number, watching as he types it into his phone. When he looks up, there's a genuine warmth in his eyes that makes your stomach do a little flip.
"I'll text you," he promises. "And hey, if your mom asks, tell her I make a mean bowl of organic oatmeal."
You laugh, shaking your head as he pushes his cart toward the checkout. "I'll be sure to mention that."
the bedroom door didn't click all the way shut, a tiny, jagged sliver of light remaining in the gap. you stayed entirely frozen in your chair, a single hot tear cutting a stinging path down your cheek as your breath hitched in your throat.
"oh so they like each other..."
the soft, stunned mumble from the doorway made your heart completely drop into your stomach. you snapped your head around, your vision blurry as you looked at the small opening. the door pushed inward another inch, and graceâs face appeared in the gap. she wasn't looking at the history textbook on your desk or your messy bed; her wide, brown eyes were locked entirely on your face, taking in the panic and the wet tracking on your cheeks. right behind her, leoâs tall frame blocked out the light of the hallway, his jaw slightly slack as he stared down at you.
they hadn't gone to the taco truck yet. they had been right outside.
"grace," you choked out, your voice cracking as you quickly swiped the back of your hand across your face, trying desperately to pull the detached mask back over your features. "iâi thought you guys left."
grace didn't answer right away. she stepped fully into the room, leaving leo to close the door quietly behind them. the silence in the small space was suddenly so heavy it felt like it was crushing your ribs. she walked over to the side of your desk, leaning her hip against it as she stared at you with a terrifying mixture of immense guilt and absolute disbelief.
"seven years?" she whispered, her voice incredibly small, almost fragile. "y/n... you've been sitting across from my brother at the kitchen table for seven years, watching him look at you like you hung the stars, and you didn't say a single word to me? while i was literally crying on your shoulder about leo back in boston?"
"it's not like that," you lied, your voice trembling as you stared down at your lap, your fingers twisting the fabric of your sweatpants until your knuckles turned white. "he doesn'tâhe thinks of me as a sister, grace. you heard him. i just... i had to settle it. i had to make sure things didn't get weird."
"he does not think of you as a sister, you absolute idiot," leoâs deep voice cut through the room from his spot by the door. you looked up, surprised by the lack of irritation in his tone. instead, your brother just looked tired, his eyes fixed on you with a strange sort of sad understanding. "smitty hasn't looked at you like a sister since we were sixteen years old where he spent three weeks of his allowance buying you that stupid signed jersey for your birthday. everyone knows it, y/n. except apparently the two of you."
"it doesn't matter," you whispered, a sob finally breaking through your throat as you buried your face in your hands. the weight of the entire trip, the diner parking lot, the suffocating ride from the arena, and the cold look in willâs eyes just moments ago finally broke you completely. "don't you get it? look at what happened with the two of you last night. one spilled secret and the whole dynamic shattered. will is your best friend, leo. grace is my sister. if... if will and i tried anything and it went bad, it wouldn't just ruin us. it would burn the whole group down. i can't do that to our families."
grace let out a shaky breath, sitting down on the edge of the desk right next to you and pulling your hands away from your face. her fingers were warm, squeezing yours with a fierce, protective tightness.
"so you decided to just destroy yourself to keep us safe?" grace asked, her own eyes swelling with tears. "y/n, i am so sorry. god, i am so sorry. i've been so wrapped up in my own stupid drama with leo that i didn't even notice you were drowning right next to me."
"i'm fine," you sniffled, pulling your hands back to wipe your eyes, though the emptiness in your chest screamed otherwise. "i am. i just need everyone to drop it. i told him he's like a brother, and his face... he went so cold, grace. it's over. i killed it. let's just go get the tacos. please."
grace and leo exchanged another long, loaded look, but for the first time all weekend, they didn't push. they just nodded quietly, giving you the space to wash your face in the bathroom before forcing yourself out into the blinding california sun.
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the stadium lights of the sap center were dizzying, a massive sea of teal and white jerseys swirling all around you as the three of you took your seats just three rows back from the glass.
not to mentionâthe car ride over had been an absolute nightmare.
will had driven, fully dressed in his custom team suit, his hair parted. he looked every bit the professional nhl athleteâand he treated you like a complete stranger. he hadn't looked at you through the rearview mirror once. when you got out of the car, he didn't hold the door or linger back to walk next to you like he always did. he just walked ahead with leo, his broad shoulders stiff under his blazer, leaving a cold, unreadable distance in his wake.
now, the loud, booming music of the pre-game warmups vibrated through the concrete under your feet.
"he's coming out," grace murmured, leaning close to your ear over the noise of the crowd.
the sharks flooded onto the ice, the sharp scrape of skate blades against fresh ice echoing through the glass. your eyes instantly found number two. will skated out with his usual easy, powerful strides, circles forming as the team began their shooting drills.
usually, during warmups, will had a routine. the second he skated past your section, he would look up, find your face in the crowd, and give a specific, quick tap of his stick against the boardsâa private little acknowledgment meant just for you.
you braced yourself as his circle brought him down your side of the rink. your heart hammered against your ribs, your eyes locking onto the dark tint of his visor as he glided closer.
will skated right past.
he didn't look up. he didn't tap his stick. his eyes remained locked strictly on the puck at his feet, his jaw set in a hard, expressionless line as he fired a shot into the net and skated away. he looked completely through you, as if the seat you were sitting in was entirely empty.
the absolute icy sting of it made you flinch, a physical ache blooming right in the center of your chest. you had gotten exactly what you asked for. you had built the wall, and will, with all his stubborn, bruised pride, had accepted it. he was treating you with the exact distant politeness you had given him in the kitchen, and it felt like a slow, agonizing death.
"okay, that's it," leo muttered from your left.
before you could even ask him what he meant, the buzzer sounded to end warmups, and the players filed back into the tunnel. leo stood up, his large frame towering over the stadium seats, his face set in a stubborn, unyielding expression that looked exactly like the one he wore when he was about to start a fight on the ice.
he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy, laminated credential on a black lanyardâthe family pass that allowed access to the lower locker room corridors after the game. he pressed it firmly into your hand, his fingers forcing yours closed around the plastic.
"leo, what are you doing?" you whispered, trying to push it back toward him. "i'm not going down there."
"yes, you are," your brother said, his voice entirely firm as he looked down at you. "smitty is going to play like he's got a dark cloud over his head, you look like you're about to faint, and grace and i are sick of watching the two of you ruin your lives for some stupid rule that doesn't even exist. he doesn't look at you like a sister, y/n. go down to the tunnel after the final horn and tell him the truth before he flies back to boston and never speaks to any of us again."
grace nodded fiercely next to him, pushing your shoulder gently toward the aisle. "go, y/n. we'll wait right here."
the plastic of the credential felt incredibly heavy against your palm as you stared down the long, concrete steps leading toward the underbelly of the arena. the game hadn't even started yet, but the countdown had officially begun, and you were completely terrified of what was going to happen when the glass finally shattered for good.
-----------------------------------------
the first two periods were nothing but a blurry smear of teal jerseys and the deafening, hollow roar of the arena crowd.
you sat between grace and leo, your thumb endlessly tracing the smooth, laminated edge of the pass in your lap. down on the ice, will was playing with reckless sort of aggression. he wasn't talking to his teammates on the bench; he wasn't doing his usual high-fives after a good shift. he was just hitting hard, skating too fast, and returning to the bench to stare blankly at the dark rubber matting between his skates.
by the time the third period buzzer finally echoed through the rafters, signaling a hard-fought win, your stomach had twisted itself into complete knots.
"go," leo said quietly, his hand coming down on your shoulder with a firm, grounding squeeze. "don't let him get on that team bus thinking you actually mean that 'brother' garbage."
grace gave you a small, encouraging push, her eyes soft with an apology that didn't need to be spoken anymore.
you stood up on trembling legs, separating yourself from the swarms of fans heading toward the exits, and made your way toward the security checkpoint near the lower bowl. the guard checked your laminated pass with a dull, practiced nod and unhooked the velvet rope, gesturing you down into the concrete underbelly of the sap center.
down there, the glamorous, bright energy completely vanished. it was all exposed pipes, grey concrete walls, the sharp, pungent scent of damp hockey gear, and the distant, rhythmic thud of heavy footsteps. you stood a few yards away from the heavy double doors of the visiting locker room, your back pressed against the cold wall, trying to breathe through the sheer panic suffocating your chest.
ten minutes passed. then twenty.
finally, the heavy metal doors groaned open. a few coaching staff members walked out first, talking in low, serious voices, followed by a couple of the older players carrying sleek rolling suitcases. and then came will.
he had showered, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the nape of his neck, but the sharp, immaculate lines of his suit looked like a suit of armor. his eyes were fixed entirely on the concrete floor in front of him, his large hand gripping the handle of his duffel bag so tightly the leather creaked.
as he neared your spot against the wall, his instinct must have kicked in. his eyes flicked up, adjusting to the shadow you were standing in. the second he recognized you, his entire stride hitched for a fraction of a second.
the cold, guarded wall you had forced him to build earlier that morning immediately slid over his features. he didn't stop walking. he just adjusted his bag on his shoulder and gave you a tiny, polite nodâthe kind of nod you give a stranger you accidentally make eye contact with on the subway.
"hey," he said, his voice dropping into that scratchy, formal tone that felt like a bucket of ice water over your head. "leo and grace outside?"
he was going to walk right past you.
"will, stop," you choked out, the words slipping from your lips before your brain could even process the sheer terror of it.
he halted. he didn't turn around completely, just pausing two paces ahead of you, his broad back rigid under the tailored fabric of his blazer. the silence between you in that gray concrete hallway felt so heavy it was deafening.
"i'm tired, y/n," he muttered, his voice dropped incredibly quiet, rough around the edges from the three periods of hockey and whatever hell heâd been putting his own head through. "if you're here to tell me about midterms or schoolwork again, i really just... i want to get to the hotel."
"i lied," you whispered to his back.
the words seemed to hang in the chilly arena air. slowly but deliberately, will turned around. his eyes searched your face, completely unreadable, his jaw tight. "you lied about what?"
"everything," you said, taking one small, hesitant step forward until you were standing in the light, right in front of him. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them into the pockets of your jacket. "this morning... in the bedroom. when I told you that you were like a brother to me. it was a lie. the biggest, stupidest lie i've ever told in my life."
will didn't move. he didn't look relieved or angry; he just stood there like a statue, his eyes tracking the slight tremble in your lower lip. "why would you say something like that then?"
"because i was terrified," you breathed, a tear finally breaking free and slipping down your cheek, though you didn't even care to wipe it away this time. "i looked at grace and leo, and i saw how seven years of secrets almost broke them in a single night. and i got so scared, smitty. because my secret isn't like theirs. my secret is seven years of watching the clock until you come home for summer break. it's seven years of keeping every single hat you've ever left at my house. it's seven years of blushing in the dark because you looked at me for two seconds too long by the fridge."
willâs breath caught. you could see the sharp rise and fall of his chest beneath his suit jacket, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
"i thought if i told you that we were just family, the circle would stay safe," you continued, your voice cracking completely as you looked up into his intense gaze. "i thought i could just force myself to get over it. but then you skated past the glass tonight during warmups, and you didn't even look at me... and i realized i'd rather burn the whole world down than have you look through me like i don't exist."
will dropped his duffel bag.
the heavy canvas hit the concrete floor with a loud, dull thud, but neither of you flinched. in two massive, sweeping strides, he closed the remaining distance between you, completely invading your space until his intoxicating scent of vanilla soap and the cold ice rink air filled your lungs.
his large hands came up, his palms burying themselves into the sides of your face, his fingers sliding into your hair with a desperate roughness that made your breath hitch. his thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks, his touch burning hot against your skin.
"you absolute idiot," will rumbled, his voice thick with an emotion that was raw and painful it made your heart ache. he leaned down, his forehead pressing firmly against yours, his eyes wide and searching as they locked onto yours from inches away. "you think you're the only one who's been suffocating for seven years? you think i want to be your brother, y/n? i have spent half my life trying not to look at your mouth because leo is my best friend and i didn't think i was allowed to have you."
"will..." you whispered against his lips, the proximity making your brain completely melt.
"no, listen to me," he commanded softly, his grip tightening just a fraction on your face, keeping you anchored right there against him. "don't you ever say that to me again. don't you ever look me in the eye and pretend i'm just the boy next door. i don't care about the circle. i don't care if leo throws me into a wall. if you're burning it down, you're burning it down with me."
and before you could even draw in another breath, will tilted his head and closed the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that felt less like a beginning and more like a dam finally bursting after seven years of pressure.
it was a heavy mix of frantic, and slightly messy, his mouth moving against yours with a desperate sort of hunger that told you everything his quiet, guarded shell had been hiding since you were thirteen years old. you let out a soft, shaky sigh into the kiss, your hands flying out of your pockets to grip the fabric of his blazer, pulling him closer until there wasn't a single inch of cold arena air left between your bodies.
when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his lips lingered against your mouth, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. he didn't let go of your face. his thumbs just stroked your cheekbones, a slow, breathtakingly beautiful smile finally breaking through the hardened exterior of his face.
"so," a loud, familiar voice echoed from the end of the concrete hallway.
you both froze, your eyes widening as you slowly looked past willâs broad shoulder.
leo was standing near the security rope, his arms crossed over his chest, a massive, smug grin splitting his face, while grace stood right next to him, practically vibrating with excitement as she held up her phone.
"does this mean i don't have to eat my tacos in complete silence on the ride home?" leo called out, his deep voice bouncing off the concrete walls.
will let out a low laugh against your forehead, his shoulders finally losing every single ounce of the tension theyâd been carrying all week. he didn't drop his hands from your face. he just turned his head slightly, throwing a lazy, victorious smirk back at your brother.
"shut up, leo," will called back, his fingers gently tangling in your hair as he pulled you right back in. "go buy the extra hot sauce. we're gonna be a while."
a/n: aaaaaand that's it! sorry the ending SUCKED i aM so sorry .. writing this felt wrong and long at the same time but fuck i really felt so burned out these past few weeks and life has been hard fucking me and writing the ending for this made my head ache đ. bBbut fret fuckin not i am back in business! any requests are pretty much open, i am thinking about writing for another teams too lmk what you think! i solemnly swear that i will give u guys more quality of writing from now onnnn...
could you do some macklin and will headcanons how they would be like as your boyfriend
WS#2 as a BF Headcannon:
Wherever you are, Willâs eyes and attention are on you. Not matter if youâre by his side or across the room
He praises you on the daily. Complimenting everything you do. From the way you cook breakfast to the way you do your hair/makeup.
Willâs a huge family guy so when you are introduced to them, they loved you and you loved them. You spend time with Grace during the week weekly and have family dinners.
PDA isnât an issue when it comes to him. Heâs not the jealous type but he is territorial so if he notices men gawking over his woman, Will kisses you to prove to everybody that youâre his and he is yours.
Will is loyal. He never looks at another woman well other than the females who interview him before, during or after his hockey games but itâs his job. Itâd be awkward not to you know?
Will is so grateful and blessed to have you in his life. He thanks God for bringing you to him each and every night when he prays.
He loves to spoil you. Shopping. Spas. Nails. Hair. Anything you want or need, Will doesnât hesitate to make sure you get what you want. Youâre his Princess.
Will loves sex with you. Your body satisfies him each and every time you two connect. Whether thatâs the rough and hard fucking or slow passionate love making, he pleasures you first and that gets him off.
He doesnât mind doing self care with you. Face masks. Foot soaks. Under eye patches. Will keeps his nails clean and short.
MC#71 as a BF Headcannon:
* Macklin isnât settle when it comes to PDA. He loves to hold your hand, kiss your cheek or lips, and have you by his side.
* Heâs very attentive about your ideas, thoughts, wants, dislikes and likes.
* He pays attention to every little detail. To the way you like your coffee to the random freckle on your foot.
* Mack loves having you at his games home or away to support him wearing his jersey but he also loves to support you and your hobbies/career.
* He knew he was in love with you very early on so celebrating being together for 5 months, Mack gave you a promise ring.
* Mack also asked you to move in with him pretty soon after you two became official. He just hated being away from you. You feel like home.
* Sometimes heâs very hard headed and stubborn when you two disagree on things but he simmers down and tries to find the middle ground to meet you at.
* Macklin loves to cuddle! He likes to be spooned sometimes. Most of the time though he is the one holding you from behind.
* Lots and lots of âI love youâ, cuddles and kisses.
