Mar 8
2026-03-07 | NYI @ SJS - pre-game sewer [x]
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2026-03-07 | NYI @ SJS - pre-game sewer [x]
fanfiction is so much more than smut. sometimes they’re the most devastating, poetic, beautiful things I’ve ever read. sometimes they change my perspective on life as a whole. most times, I just really enjoy reading them.
Why does the big shark throw around the little shark?
something so telling about the ‘bub’ vs ‘booooooooo👎’ ig comments
sunday kind of love ▸ will smith
PAIRING ▸ will smith wsh x reader
GENRES ▸ fluff, established relationship, wsh soft, wsh pretty boy agenda
SUMMARY ▸ a slow sunday morning with will means messy hair, lazy cuddles, and refusing to get out of bed.
WORD COUNT ▸ 1.3k words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ oh white boy you have endeared me so…..pushing the smitty soft pretty boy agenda IDGAF!!! also manifesting will goal and sharks win soon IM READY FOR IT!
there’s something about sundays in the early morning that feel softer.
maybe it’s the way the sunlight comes in slower, spilling through the curtains in thin golden strips instead of harsh beams. or the way the world feels quieter: no alarms, no rushing, no schedule to follow except the one you make for yourself.
or maybe, it’s the way will’s arm is thrown over your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
you wake up slowly, blinking against the sunlight, still half tucked into sleep. the first thing you notice is warmth. despite the san jose heat, will's 6'0 frame often splayed across your smaller form was a consistent furnace: you usually went to bed now clad in one of his old oversized development shirts to accommodate.
the second, weight. you shift slightly to your side, testing it, and the arm around you tightens immediately.
you huff out a quiet laugh of disbelief. this boy. “will, i can tell you’re awake,” you mumble.
behind you, there’s a low, sleepy groan that reverberates through your body. the timbre of his voice is deep, and one thing about you was your absolute obsession with wills sleepy morning voice.
“m’not i swear,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, face pressing further into the back of your neck and quickly planting a featherlight kiss on your shoulder. “go back to sleep.”
you smile a little, even though he can’t see it. “you just answered me.”
“doesn’t count.”
“hmm…i think it does.”
his grip tightens again, pulling you back into his body when you try to turn over. you revel in the feeling for a moment, caged in by all muscle.
“baby, stop moving,” he complains, words slurring together. “it’s sunday.” another thing about will in the mornings other than his clinginess was that he was an absolute whiny baby. if he had an early morning skate, you basically had to fight to drag his whiny form out of your bed.
you snort softly. “what does that even mean.”
“means we don’t do anything today.”
you finally manage to roll onto your side to face will, his arm still draped over your waist like it belongs there.
“you say that every sunday.”
“yeah,” he says, blinking one blue eye open to look at you. his blond hair’s a mess from sleep, sticking up in every direction, and there’s a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. “and every sunday you try to make plans.”
“excuse you…because normal people leave their apartments sometimes.” you lift a free hand to muss up his hair even further and slide your fingers down his face in a caress. will leans into your touch lovingly.
he squints at you. “i leave our apartment.”
“for hockey.”
“that counts.”
“it does not count, that's your job.”
he stares at you for a second longer, like he’s genuinely considering this argument. then, “okay,” he says. “then i guess i’m not normal.”
that makes you smile and flick his nose playfully. “i could’ve told you that.”
he narrows his eyes. “rude.”
“accurate.”
he shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow, looking down at you now. there’s still sleep in his eyes, but there’s something else there too. you know it's love.
you take the time then to look at will. really look at him. you know he hated when people would chirp him and call him pretty boy, but times like this made you hyperaware of how gorgeous he was. the natural morning light showed off the moles on his skin, the angular slope of his perfect nose, the tips of his golden hair. you didn't want to admit you were jealous, but it was hard not to be.
“you're staring… and you’re still here,” he says, like he’s just realizing it.
you blink. “…yeah?”
he hums, like he’s satisfied with that answer, then lets himself fall back down beside you, tugging you closer again without asking. another featherlight kiss to your shoulder. “good.”
“you’re clingy, and whiny.” you mumble.
“only on sundays.”
you smile again “ we both know that’s not true.”
“okay,” he amends, voice muffled now against your shoulder. “mostly on sundays.”
you laugh quietly, letting your hand drift up again to his hair, absentmindedly fixing a piece you mussed earlier that’s sticking straight up.
he leans into it immediately. of course he does, the golden retriever boy he was. “don’t start,” he mumbles.
“start what.” your tone is innocent but you know exactly what you're doing.
“that,” he says, tilting his head slightly into your hand. “if you do that i’m not getting up.”
“you weren’t getting up anyway.”
“true.” quiet. easy. stable. you glance toward the window again, sunlight stretching further across the bed now.
“…we should get breakfast,” you say.
he groans. “no, can't i just stay in bed with my beautiful girlfriend all day?.”
“will, flattery is going to get you absolutely nowhere.”
“no please,” he repeats, tightening his hold on you again. “we have food here.”
“we have pancake mix and three different kinds of protein bars. if you can recall, we did not go grocery shopping the other day because you were busy binging new girl again.”
“that’s breakfast.”
“that is not breakfast.”
he lifts his head just enough to look at you again. “…i could make us pancakes.”
you raise a brow. “you can’t make pancakes.”
he looks offended. “i can absolutely make pancakes.”
“last time you tried to make pancakes you set off the smoke alarm.”
“that was one time.”
“you and macklin made a pizza with the cardboard still under it, will.”
“we did not make a pizza with the cardboard still under it, and that was completely macklins fault! ”
you just look at him, squinting a bit.
he pauses. “…okay maybe a little.”
you laugh, and he smiles at that, small, sleepy, a little crooked.
it unfortunately makes you fold. just a bit. “okay, maybe it won't hurt to stay in bed a little longer.”
his face changes immediately. like, actually immediately. the lazy, half-asleep expression melts into something brighter, softer, extremely boyish. his eyes light up just a little, the corners crinkling as a grin spreads across his face.
“yeah?” he says, like he’s trying to play it nonchalant, but it's will, who has no nonchalant bone in his body, so he was absolutely failing.
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “yeah i guess.”
that’s all it takes. “good,” he murmurs, and before you can say anything else, he shifts closer, somehow even closer than he was before, until you’re basically tucked underneath him.
“will, ” he cuts you off with a kiss. not a real one. just a quick press to your cheek.
and then another. and another.
“will, ” you laugh, squirming slightly as he peppers kisses across your face, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “what are you doing”
“being grateful,” he mumbles against your skin, not stopping for a second.
“for what-” another kiss.
“for this,” kiss.
“for you not making me leave,” kiss.
“for-” he pauses, pressing one softer, slower kiss right below your cheekbone. “-this.”
you huff out a breath that turns into a laugh, your hands coming up to push lightly at his shoulders.
“you’re ridiculous.” your fingers slide into his golden hair, tugging gently just to get him to stop for a second so you can actually look at him.
he still looks stupidly happy. his hand comes up, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. you smile, leaning into his touch without thinking. he grins again, like he’s won something, before dropping his head back down against you, arms wrapping around you like second nature.
you settle into him, the warmth, the quiet, the slow stretch of the morning wrapping around both of you.
it's at that moment you officially declare sundays as the best day of the week.
I love ALL sharks 🦈
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pairing: William Eklund x Marine Biologist!reader
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warnings: ekkybrina mention, i think that’s it?
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a/n: first nhl smau kinda nervy. also i’m back after disappearing for like 10 months! get hype. i can’t decide if i like this or not but it’s ekky x my dream job so idk!
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Ridiculous amounts of homosexual friends with benefits tension and angst going on with willmack meanwhile eklund is riding a scooter with sharkie