I just read your Mack x reader fic where innocent reader left scratch marks all over him and LOVED it, I wanted to ask if you could write something similar for Will but this time its not his teammates spotting the marks but like his closest guy friends while they are on vacation?
Scratch Marks & Sunshine
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: You leave your marks all over Will and his friends refuse to believe you could be so wild behind closed doors.
TW: Sexual implications, marking, teasing, fluff, established relationship.
masterlist
The morning sun streams through your window, but the warmth on your skin does little to chase away the lingering chill of Will's absence. His side of the bed is cold, a stark reminder that he's currently somewhere over the Midwest, hurtling toward a week of sun. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the memory of his mouth on yours, the desperate, hungry way you'd clung to him last night. It was a farewell fueled by the knowledge of seven days apart, a night that left you breathless, satisfied and now, alone.
The Florida air is thick and humid, a welcome change from the lingering Boston chill. "Last one in the water buys the first round!" Gabe yells, already fumbling with his shirt.
Will laughs, peeling his own t-shirt over his head. The sun is warm on his skin, the familiar weight of his hockey bag gone from his shoulder.
"Whoa, hold on there, killer," Jacob says, his voice laced with amusement. "What the hell happened to your back?"
Will freezes, his shirt halfway down his arms. "What are you talking about?"
Gabe turns, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight. "Holy shit, dude. It looks like you got mauled by a tiger."
Ryan jogs back over, squinting. "No way. Are those... scratches?"
Will's face flushes as he instinctively tries to look over his shoulder. "It's nothing," he mumbles, pulling his shirt back on.
"It's not nothing," Gabe insists, grabbing the fabric and trying to pull it back up. "Let us see! Did you get into a fight with a cat?"
"Or," Ryan says, a slow grin spreading across his face as he points to a small, purpling mark on Will's bicep. "Did you get a new girlfriend? A very... possessive one?"
Will's head snaps up. "What? Why would I have a new girlfriend?"
"I mean," Ryan continues, enjoying himself immensely, "I don't think sweet little Y/N has it in her to leave a set of claw marks like that."
Jacob nods in agreement. "He's got a point. She blushes if the wind blows the wrong way. I'm not convinced she knows what teeth are, let alone how to use them."
A hot surge of protectiveness rises in Will's chest. "Shut up. You don't know anything about her."
"We know she's the definition of a good girl," Gabe counters, his teasing grin softening slightly. "Which is why we're saying there's no way those marks are from her. So, who is she, Will? Spill."
Will's jaw is tight. He can feel his friends' eyes on him, a mixture of genuine confusion and mocking speculation. He knows he should just laugh it off, make up a joke, but the implication that you aren't enough, that you couldn't possibly be this passionate with him, makes his hackles rise.
He doesn't answer. He just stands there, staring them down, his silence a wall of defiance.
The silence stretches and one by one, their expressions change. Gabe's smirk falters. Jacob's eyes widen in dawning comprehension. Ryan's jaw literally drops.
"No," Ryan whispers, his voice filled with disbelief. "No way."
Jacob shakes his head slowly, looking at Will like he's a complete stranger. "Dude."
"It was her?" Gabe asks, his voice barely a squeak. "Our Y/N? The one who literally apologizes when she beats us at Mario Kart? That girl?"
Will's defensive posture relaxes just slightly, replaced by a smug satisfaction. He gives a single, sharp nod.
The reaction is immediate and explosive.
"HOLY SHIT!" Gabe screams, making a nearby family jump. "I take back everything I ever said! She's a freak!"
"A quiet freak!" Ryan corrects, looking at Will with newfound, slightly terrified respect. "The most dangerous kind!"
"I can't believe it," Jacob says, running a hand through his hair. "All this time. We thought she was this delicate little flower and she's secretly a... a panther!"
Will is laughing now, the tension broken. "Told you to shut up."
"Dude, you have to tell us everything," Gabe begs, grabbing his arm. "What did you do? What did she do? I need details!"
"Never," Will says, pulling away. "You'll just have to live with the mystery." He glances down at his arm, a small smile playing on his lips. He's never been more proud of a few little marks in his life.
The evening finds you curled up on the couch when your phone buzzes with his name. "Hey! How's Florida?" you ask, your voice bright.
"It's... eventful," he says, and you can hear the suppressed laughter in his tone.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he assures you. "It's just... well, I took my shirt off at the beach."
Your frown is audible. "And...?"
"And, baby... they saw the scratches. And the bite mark."
It takes you a moment and when you realize what he means, your face floods with heat. "Oh my god," you whisper, your hand flying to your mouth. "No."
"Oh, yes," he confirms, his voice full of glee. "They thought I had a new, violent girlfriend. They were absolutely convinced it wasn't you."
You groan, burying your face in a throw pillow. "I want to die."
"Hey, don't," he says, his voice softening. "It's fine. I defended your honor. And then I confirmed it was you, and they freaked out. Jacob thinks you're a panther now."
You can't help it, you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "He does not."
"He does," Will insists. "Listen, don't worry about it. They're idiots. But maybe when I get back," he adds, his voice dropping to a low whisper, "we can give them something new to talk about."
description: end of season/offseason photo dumps from Will Smith Hockey and Y/N reader!!! little explanation if you’re just tuning in, this is a part of my wsh universe where the reader is originally from Canada, hence the Canada day discussion!! Also this is my first smau so bear with me, and i appreciate both good and bad feedback!!
warnings: none!!!
let’s get to it⬇️
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liked by _willsmith2, graceccsmith, mackcelebrini and 2365 others
youruser as of late 📸🤍
113 comments
_willsmith2 Beautiful girl❤️
↪️youruser I LOVE YOU❤️
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_willsmith2 Still waiting on the pics from the last game bro
↪️mackcelebrini “bro” and it’s your girlfriend of 4 years😭
↪️mackcelebrini but also yeah bro send us the photos rn
↪️random what is mack doing here help
↪️random not mack defending y/n
↪️youruser he’s our couples therapist😇
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yourbsfsuser cute now come back home imy☹️
↪️youruser 2 more weeks bae
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random the way he looks at her i cant
↪️mackcelebrini what can i say he loves me
↪️youruser i think they meant me sorry mack
↪️mackcelebrini the only one he’s looking at in these pics is me legit🤷♂️
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random THE BICEP PIC HELP
↪️random she’s the luckiest person alive
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random no way they both live in fear of bluetooth match made in heaven
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liked by youruser, gabeperreault44, mackcelebrini and 2365 others
_willsmith2 Until next year SJ🦈
634 comments
youruser please let me edit your pictures next time
↪️_willsmith2 Nobody else cares abt the color wash on my photo dump baby
↪️youruser everyone cares william they’re judging you
↪️random it’s true we are
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yourfinsta 🤤🤤🤤
↪️_willsmith2 get outta here🥱
↪️yourfinsta i actually was referring to the drool coming out of your mouth in pic 1 CLOSE YOUR DAMN MOUTH BRO
↪️random what is this account and why is he responding
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mackcelebrini gf finally sent u her pics?!
↪️_willsmith2 What the sus
↪️mackcelebrini not what i meant dude
↪️youruser it’s okay mack will wishes
↪️random WHAT IS THIS
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sanjosesharks 🔥🦈
↪️_willsmith2 🫡
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graceccsmith Rigney’s excited to see you !
↪️_willsmith2 Can’t wait lil bro
↪️random **big sis
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liked by _willsmith2, yourbsfsuser, mackcelebrini and 3542 others
youruser best of both worlds🇨🇦🇺🇸🎆
97 comments
_willsmith2 Canada day is fourth of july from temu and also you’re cute
↪️youruser baby no it’s just inspired and also thank you
↪️mackcelebrini will stop saying this bro you love canadians too much to be hating
↪️random it’s giving y’all know im canada down icl
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graceccsmith beautiful girl🩷
↪️youruser says you girl ily🩷🙃
↪️_willsmith2 Bromance. Fascinating.
↪️youruser get outta my comments william
↪️random not grace stealing wills girl😭
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yourbsfsuser Come back to toronto soon❤️
↪️youruser brb booking another flight
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yourfriendsuser THESE PHOTOS ARE TEA
↪️youruser it’s almost like it’s my job or something🤭
↪️random y/n on sharks media WHEN.
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liked by youruser, graceccsmith, mackcelebrini and 117261 others
_willsmith2 Baby you’re a firework
572 comments
youruser pretty boy🥰
↪️_willsmith2 Ily so much baby❤️
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youruser no pictures of canada day, eh?
↪️_willsmith2 I see what you did there.
↪️youruser ISTG THAT WASNT EVEN ON PURPOSE
↪️_willsmith2 Funnnny😐
↪️youruser rude.
↪️random flirting in the comments is crazy work
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gabeperreault44 yessir🙂↕️
↪️random Gabe sighting in the big 26
↪️random what do you even mean bro they’re still friends
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yourbsfsuser someone tell gabe he’s allowed to smile
↪️gabeperreault44 nah i only do that for you
↪️random WOAH NEW DEVELOPMENT
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mackcelebrini boooo👎
↪️_willsmith2 You’re literally in the post you’re booing yourself
↪️mackcelebrini nah i’m booing your lack of canada day pics don’t pretend you weren’t there
↪️mackcelebrini also booing katy perry in the caption
↪️random mack being canada down yet again
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I hope you enjoyed!! also i hope all my canadian baddies are doing alright with the wildfires rn, sending all the love❤️❤️❤️
PLS continue to send in requests, i’m getting caught up now!
can u do a will smith x reader w dumbification where reader is still a college student n super stressed abt school/responsibilities to the point its neg affecting her so will decides to help her out by fucking her dumb so she can finally relax and get her mind off things,,, love ur work!!
Fuck You Stupid
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: Overwhelmed by college stress Will decides in order to take your mind off thinks he has to fuck you dumb.
TW: Smut, MDNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), dumbification, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, hand on neck once, established relationship.
masterlist
The textbook blurs in front of your eyes, the words swimming into an incomprehensible jumble of letters. It's 2 AM, your third consecutive all-nighter and your brain feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Your laptop glows with three unfinished papers, your phone buzzes with unread emails from professors and the weight of your impending graduation presses down on your chest like a physical force.
You jump when the door clicks open, Will walking in, his hair still damp from the shower he just took.
"Still at it?" he asks, his voice soft as he approaches the table where you're buried under a mountain of books.
"I have to," you mumble, not looking up. "I'm so behind. If I don't finish this outline and study for my midterm, I'm going to fail."
Will's hands land on your shoulders, his thumbs working into the tight knots of muscle. You tense at his touch, then immediately relax, a small whimper escaping your lips.
"You're going to burn out," he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. "When was the last time you slept? Drank something that wasn't coffee?"
"I'm fine," you lie, even as your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. "I just need to push through."
"No," he says, his voice firm but gentle. "What you need is to stop. You're running yourself into the ground, babe."
"I can't," you whisper, tears welling in your eyes. "There's too much to do."
Will circles the table, crouching down so he's at eye level with you. He takes your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Hey. Listen to me. School will still be there tomorrow. Your papers aren't going anywhere. But you? You're going to break if you keep this up."
"But..."
"No buts," he interrupts, his thumb stroking your cheek. "I'm taking care of you tonight. No more thinking. No more worrying. Just me and you."
You want to argue, to list all the reasons why you can't afford a break, but the exhaustion is too profound. All you can do is nod weakly as he helps you up from the chair, your legs unsteady beneath you.
"That's my girl," he murmurs, leading you toward the bedroom. "Time to turn that busy brain off for a while."
Once in the bedroom, he doesn't waste time. His lips are on yours, demanding and hungry, his hands roaming your body with purpose. You respond automatically, your body remembering what your mind is too tired to process.
"Too many thoughts in that pretty head of yours," he says against your mouth, his hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. "We're going to need to empty it out a bit."
You shiver as his thumbs brush against the underside of your breasts. "Will, I..."
"Shh," he interrupts, pulling your shirt over your head. "No talking from you unless it's to beg or moan. The only thing I want coming out of your mouth is my name or praise for how good I'm making you feel."
He guides you to the bed, positioning you on your back before hovering over you. "You think too much, you know that? Always analyzing, always planning. Tonight, you're not going to think at all. You're just going to feel."
His mouth finds your neck, sucking and biting marks into your skin that you know will be visible tomorrow. His hands work to rid you of your remaining clothes, his touch both rough and reverent.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in your naked form. "Already so much more relaxed when you're not trying to solve all the world's problems. Just a body for me to play with. That's all you need to be right now."
His words send a jolt of arousal through you, your body responding to his dominant tone even as your mind reels. "But my papers..."
"Fuck your papers," he growls, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch. "The only thing you need to worry about is how many times I'm going to make you come before your brain is completely empty."
He shifts down your body, his mouth finding your nipples, alternating between sucking and biting until you're arching off the bed, pleasure coursing through you.
"That's it," he praises, his hand moving between your legs to find you already wet. "No more thinking about school or responsibilities. Just focus on how good this feels. Focus on me."
His fingers slide inside you, curling to find that spot that makes your toes curl. "You're already so wet for me. So desperate to be told what to do, aren't you? To have someone else make all the decisions for a while."
You can only moan in response, your hips bucking against his hand as he adds another finger, stretching you deliciously.
"Such a good girl when you're not overthinking everything," he continues, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Just a needy little thing who wants to be fucked until she can't remember her own name. Is that what you want?"
"Yes," you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets.
A smirk plays on his lips. "That's better. See how easy it is when you don't have to think? When you just do what you're told?"
He withdraws his fingers, bringing them to your lips. "Taste yourself. See how ready you are to be fucked dumb."
You obediently open your mouth, sucking your juices from his fingers, your eyes locked with his.
"Please," you whimper when he pulls his fingers away.
"Please what?" he asks, though he knows exactly what you want.
"Please fuck me," you beg, your pride forgotten in the haze of arousal. "I need you."
"Since you asked so nicely," he says, positioning himself between your legs. He frees his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. "Remember, no thinking. Just feeling. Just being my pretty little fuck toy for the night."
He enters you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your body arching to accommodate him.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, beginning to move. "So fucking perfect like this, all spread out and desperate for my cock."
He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you further into the mattress, driving all coherent thought from your mind. The only thing that exists is the feeling of him inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin and his filthy words in your ear.
"You like that, don't you?" he asks, his hand wrapping around your throat again. "Like being used like this? No responsibilities, no decisions to make. Just taking my cock like the good little girl you are."
You can only nod, your eyes rolling back as he hits that perfect spot with every thrust.
"Use your words," he demands, his grip tightening slightly. "Tell me how much you love being fucked like this."
"I love it," you gasp.
"Fuck," he growls, his pace becoming erratic. "That's all you are tonight. My perfect little pussy to use however I want."
His free hand moves to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. "Come for me. Show me how good it feels to be empty-headed and full of cock."
Your orgasm crashes over you, intense and overwhelming, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your mind goes completely blank, all thoughts of school and responsibilities washed away in a sea of pleasure.
Will follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he finds his release, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath.
For a long moment, you both stay like that, joined together, your bodies slick with sweat. You feel pliant and relaxed, your mind blissfully empty.
Will pulls out gently, positioning you both so you're lying face to face. He brushes a stray hair from your forehead, his expression soft.
"See?" he murmurs, his voice no longer dominant but tender. "No more thinking. Just feeling."
You snuggle closer to him, your body completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice hoarse.
"Always," he promises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Now sleep. We'll deal with all that other stuff tomorrow."
Includes : Will Smith hockey, Ben Kindel, Connor Bedard, Macklin Celebrini, Fraser Minten, Mavrik Bourque, and Luke Hughes x Female Reader
Warnings : No use of Y/N, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, beautiful girl?) Angst, Comfort, Explicit Language, Mention of the Olympics (Celebrini and Minten), Jokes of Committing [nothing extreme or serious] (Bourque), USA shade? (Smith and Hughes), different ways of coping
Summary : A series of you reacting to your team getting eliminated from the World Cup and how the boys would comfort you.
A/N : This ain’t Mighty Ducks but it’s hockey so I take it. Plus I need this guys (I need this) Is it corny? Possibly. Out of character? Possibly. Do I care? Possibly. Don’t matter. Excuse any mistakes if there’s some and thank you for reading
♡ Will Smith ♡
You’re standing in the middle of the living room, clenched hands by your sides and eyes glued on the tv screen, following the players as they run across the field. The announcer’s voice booms from the sides of the tv, cracking when your team finally decides to take a chance at the goal. It’s blocked.
You groan but shake it off. Your team still has possession of the ball so there’s no need to fret. The announcer makes a comment of the time and your eyes dart to the corner of the screen. Less than five minutes left on the clock and your team is still one goal down.
You have hope still. A lot can happen in five minutes. They might not score twice in those five minutes but they will tie and then go to extra time and win there, you’re sure of it. Even as the last minute arrives and they still haven’t scored, you’re sure they will.
But they don’t.
Your heart drops when the referee blows the whistle. It drops when the announcer confirms it’s the end of the game. It drops when the screen fills with the destroyed faces of the players on your team, tears already falling with some covering them with their hands or with another player as they hug.
“Baby?” Will’s voice sounds from behind you. He’d been watching from the couch, eating the snacks you two had prepared for the game. He wasn’t as into it as you were, it wasn’t his team playing, but he wanted to support you and with how excited you were, how could he not.
You don’t hear him, your attention still glued to the screen.
Will already knows the sight that will greet him when he approaches you. He already knows the tears in your eyes and the tremble of your bottom lip as you hold back the sobs. He already knows your week and most likely the rest of the year is ruined.
“Baby.” He whispers, voice so soft like he was approaching a sad child. It’s not until his hand gently lays on your shoulder that you seem to snap out of your daze.
Your eyes, glossy with tears and already puffy, glance at him and with a broken voice, one the turns into a sob, you tell him, “We lost.”
Will instantly brings you into a hug and you finally let it out. You sob into his shoulder as your hands grip the back of his shirt– of the jersey that matches the one you wear. He rubs comfort into your back, whispering sweet nothings into your temples as he leaves kisses there.
You two stand there until the tv no longer shows the devastating loss. Until your sobs turn to sniffles. Until his jersey soaked all your tears and leaves your eyes dry. And if it took almost an hour or so and Will’s legs started to get tired, then so be it. He’ll wait as long as it takes.
Once you’re done, Will brings you to the couch, wrapping an arm around your waist as you cuddle to his side. He changes channels, stopping when a familiar movie plays. You munch sadly on the snacks, barely paying attention to it.
“You know,” Will whispers, not wanting to disturb the peace. His hand now rubs down your arm but it’s the way it stutters slightly that catches your attention. He looks at you with a crooked, suggestive smile. “USA is still in. You can cheer for them.”
You frown. “Don’t even joke, Will. The only time I’ll cheer for USA is if you’re on the team. No exceptions.”
“Good to know you love me that much.” He chuckles and plants a kiss on your cheek. “And I love you so much I wear another team’s jersey in case you didn’t know.”
“Oh I know and I’m grateful for it.” You return the kiss with a smile and Will triumphs at the action.
♡ Ben Kindel ♡
It’s late. You should’ve been asleep by now. Your family should've already come home from the watch party downtown. But no, you’re still awake and your family is still out watching the game.
The game started early but both teams were playing with their all. When one scored, the other did minutes later. Each time you got excited only to be disappointed when the other team tied.
You abandoned your spot next to Ben a long time ago and now pace back and forth in front of the tv. Your heart is pounding, your hands are sweating, and you begin to chew your bottom lip till you accidentally make yourself bleed— Ben didn’t like that.
Regular times come to an end and even with the added minutes, the teams are still tied. You inhale heavily, anxiety ridden and tired of riding this roller coaster of emotions. Worst part, it’s not over yet. You just hope you don’t go to penalties.
“I've never seen you this nervous.” Ben comments, a half genuine half joking smile on his lips, as you take a much needed long sip of your drink which you wish was alcohol. “Not even when I play.”
You gasp, wiping the excess liquid from your lips. “‘Cause this is important.”
“Ouch.”
You laugh softly. “At the moment this is but once hockey season starts, you will be my penguin.”
He smiles and raises a brow. “Only during the season?”
“And every other month of the year.” You add with a teasing smile, meeting him by the couch and leaning in for a kiss.
Ben gladly accepts it, avoiding irritating the cut on your bottom lip. He tries to make it last, cupping your face and kissing you the way you like but once you hear the break is over, you’re running back to your spot in front of the tv.
The first fifteen minutes go by fast with the other team scoring in the last minute. You pay no mind, knowing your team will score in the other fifteen minutes. They don’t. Worse, the other team scores again. You don’t lose faith though but as the timer reaches the end, you feel the inevitable dread.
The whistle is blown and the game finally ends. There’s no more added time. No going to penalties. No winning. The camera pans from the thrilled, relieves faces of the winning team and their fans to the disappointed, defeated faces of your team. It’s almost funny, the best day for someone is the worst for someone else.
You want to scream and cry but you're too stunned to do anything, even something as simple as opening your mouth. A lump grows in your throat, feeling like pins and needles as you stare at the tv. It gets worse when kids barely old enough to know multiplications are shown bawling their eyes next to their dads and brothers. Then to the star player and the youngest on the team. It hits you hard then.
You lost.
Without a word or glance, you rush to your bedroom. You don’t change into pajamas. You don’t wipe your team’s flag from your cheek. You just curl into a ball on the bed and pull the covers to your chin, hoping this was just a cruel nightmare.
A few seconds later, Ben comes and without saying a word, he joins you. His arms wrap around your torso, pulling you flush against his front, and just with his touch, you finally break down. You hold his hands as you let out the sobs you’ve been holding back and Ben holds you through all of it, not once loosening his grip even when you turn to burry your face between his neck and shoulder or as the tears lulled you to sleep and he followed minutes later.
♡ Connor Bedard ♡
Connor knew the moment you stopped updating him about the futbol game that something was wrong and his suspicions were confirmed when he got the notification of the final score. Your team had lost. He knew you weren’t taking it well. You were so hopeful, telling him that this year was going to be the year they’d win.
So he made sure to stop by the store and get your favorite candy, snack, and drink. He even stopped by your favorite restaurant and got the meal and dessert you’ve been craving. He knew none of it was going to fill the void the loss caused but if he was able to lessen it, it’d be enough.
However, Connor didn’t realize just how severe the void was. Not until he reached the apartment door and heard music blasting. He didn’t recognize it but based on the instrumental, it was definitely sad music.
Maybe he should’ve got you a puppy or a kitten.
He hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath and entering your shared apartment. The music is even louder than before, the vibrations now evident and going up his legs, and almost irritating. He sets the bags on the table and calls for you but there’s no answer. He calls again, weaving in and out of the rooms. Still no answer. So he goes to lower the volume of the speaker in the living room and there he finds you on the floor.
You’re staring up at the ceiling, eyes glossy and unfocused. There’s dried streaks in the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks. Beneath you lays your team’s flag, the ends wrapped around your hands, holding onto the last hope that what happened wasn’t real. Your mouth moves to the lyrics but Connor’s not sure if you are singing or not.
“Hey, babe.” He whispers, not wanting to startle you. You don’t respond, don’t even glance at him. He licks his lips, a nervous habit, and clears his throat, stepping closer into your view. “I heard what happened… I’m sorry.”
Your singing halts. Tears flood your eyes in seconds and your bottom lip trembles before a small, shaky sob leaves you.
That's not what he meant to happen.
“Shit. I didn’t— C’mere.”
Connor kneels next to you and brings you into a much needed hug. You cry into his shoulder, the flag still wrapped around you. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort you and he isn’t going to risk the chance of making you cry harder so instead he just holds you tighter, hoping he can squeeze the pain away.
“This was supposed to be our year.” You sob. “We were supposed to win. We were supposed to…”
“I know. I know.”
You cry until there’s no more tears to shed and your throat is sore after so many sobs. Connor doesn’t let go until you're the one pulling away with small sniffles, avoiding his gaze. “‘M sorry for breaking down.”
Connor shakes his head. “You got nothing to be sorry about. I like how passionate you are about things.”
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t.” You wipe the rest of the tears and look at him with a frown. “I hate futbol.”
“And I hate hockey.” He smiles. “C’mon, I brought you some ‘get well soon’ things.”
Your eyes widen as Connor helps you up and leads you to the kitchen. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He simply says with a smile that has the void feeling less hollow.
You sit and watch as he unpacks the stuff, setting them neatly in front of you. He’s acting like it’s normal, like he didn’t go out of his way to make you happy. He could’ve just held you, it would’ve been enough but no. He wanted to go above and beyond.
Your expression softens, adoration filling your eyes, and a smile as sweet as the candy Connor got you forms on your lips. “You're the best, y’know.” You blurt out before you can think and immediately, your cheeks heat up.
Connor chuckles and as he hands you the takeout box, he leans in and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I know.”
“Okay, Mr.Cocky.”
♡ Macklin Celebrini ♡
“What?” You yell at the tv, jumping up from your seat on the couch.
The referee had blown the whistle, claiming that your team committed a foul. You’re quick to defend them, matching the players that approach the referee but just like to you, the referee doesn't listen. The replay is shown and while you might not be a professional, you grew up playing and watching futbol before you could speak so you know the rules and you know for certain it wasn’t a foul.
“He’s wrong. He’s wrong.” You tell the tv then Macklin. “Right.”
He raises his hands in defense. “Don’t look at me. My parents might’ve been players but that doesn't make me an expert. Now if it was hockey…”
Before you can respond, the referee comes back from reviewing the play and you hold your breath as he speaks into the microphone. It’s delayed for a couple of seconds before you hear his decision and when you do, you gasp in disbelief. It’s a foul and your player gets a yellow card but worst, since it was inside the penalty box, the other team is awarded a penalty kick.
“What— He— That’s some fucking bullshit! ” You run your hands over your hair, pulling in frustration, and scowl at the sight of the referee. “They paid him or he bet some money. There’s no other fucking reason. That wasn’t a penalty!”
Macklin just watches you, an amused smile tugging on his lips. “And they say I’m bad.”
“Shut it, Celebrini.” You glare at him, pointing a threatening finger. “I don’t say none when you go crazy.”
He gives you a look.
“I say it after.” You add.
Macklin rolls his eyes but the smile is still on his lips. He watches you, how tense you become when the other team’s player gets ready. You’re mumbling under your breath, trying to manifest him to miss or for your goalie to block it. It wasn’t enough.
“No!” You fall to your knees and if it wasn’t a serious moment, Macklin would’ve laughed at how comedic it was. You jump back up. “There’s still time. They can tie it. They can win. Right, Mackers?”
“Totally.”
But like before, your manifestation doesn’t work. The game ends and your team couldn’t manage to score, costing them the game and getting eliminated. And like before, you crumble to your knees, crying as the tv shows your team in shambles.
“This isn’t fair.” You mumble as you pathetically crawl back to Macklin, too sad to even be embarrassed. He doesn’t waste a second in opening his arms and letting you settle, tossing your leg over his lap and arm across his chest. “They were so close. So close.”
“It’s okay.” Macklin whispers, rubbing a hand down your arm as he hugs you.
“It’s really not. It would’ve been if we won but no.” You cry against his shoulder. “We were sooo close. Fuck! Is this how you felt? During the Olympics?”
He tenses. “I thought we had a silent agreement not to mention that.”
Your eyes widen and you’re quick to apologize, knowing how much the event hurt Macklin, even months since it still hurt. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’t have— I don’t know why I even said it. It just slipped.”
“It’s fine…” He sighs, genuinely not angry. “And I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, it’s not like you were playing.”
Whether he’s intentionally being funny or not, it gets a small laugh from you. “You got me there.” Then you turn serious and pull back enough to look at him. “But still. It hurts seeing them work so hard— to make it this far and it be over just like that.”
“Yeah, it sucks... But be happy it happened— that they made it this far.”
His words bring a smile to your lips. You hadn’t thought of it like that.
“Who told you that?”
“What?” Macklin acts offended, his face scrunching up when you give him the same look he had given you. “You don’t think I thought of it?”
“No.”
Macklin huffs and then, with a small smile, “one of the guys on the team told me.”
♡ Fraser Minten ♡
You’re on the verge of breaking down.
First, your team– which you love dearly– for the past minute have just been passing the ball, left, right, forward, then back. If you could, you would jump through the screen and yell at them to at least try shooting it. Second, your entire family is doing just that, yelling, almost begging for them to do something besides passing. Third, you chewed almost all your nails to the bed from trying to deal with the overstimulation.
“You need mine?” Fraser jokes beside you, offering you his hand.
It should uplift you, get a small laugh from you. It doesn’t. Your annoyance blocks any chance of it happening.
You grumble along with the rest of your family when the other team gets the ball and clears it. Luckily though, your team still has possession of it and continues their stupid passes.
“What I need is for them to score.” You mumble, scooting back against the couch and taking his offered hand but not his offer. “How hard is it to score? You do it with a puck.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”
Instead of answering, you yell out in frustration when your team loses the ball, squeezing Fraser’s hand in the process. He spends it like that for the rest of the game, hand getting squeezed when you don’t like something, rubbing his palm when you're nervous and tracing the veins on the back of his hand when you’re calm— which wasn’t a lot.
By the end, when the final minute is ticking, your touch becomes softer until there’s no more squeezing or rubbing. There’s no more yells, grumbles, or stress coming from you. You’re quiet beside him, face hiding in his shoulder and hand just holding his. Fraser knows then. You accepted the fact your team wasn’t going to win, not after they finally got it together and started shooting in the final minutes.
The whistle is blown, destroying your team's chances of advancing to the next round. Disappointment is written all over your family. Your dad shakes his head with a sigh. Your brother huffs annoyed, commenting on the many chances they had. Your nieces and nephews tear up. The rest shared in the bittersweetness of it all.
You stay quiet during the exchange, watching with sadness as the camera pans over your team then the fans, all sad for this chapter to be ending after having so much hope. It’s too much. You stand without a word and head to the backyard.
It’s quiet and empty. The sun is barely setting and the temperature is lowering enough to not feel as hot as a sauna. You inhale the fresh air and as you exhale, you let tension from the past hour and a half out. But you also accidentally let the tears you held back out.
“Hey,” Fraser appears a second later behind you, gentle hands cradling your arms. “You okay?”
You laugh softly and try to discreetly wipe the tears away. “‘M fine. It’s not like my team just got eliminated.”
“…Yeah that was a stupid question.” He chuckles. It goes quiet for a moment. His hands circle around you, holding you like you had held his hand. “You know,” he whispers, pressing his cheek against your temple, “it’s okay to cry. I know how much this meant to you.”
“I know. It’s just— Wait.” You side eye him, recognizing the words you had once told him. “You really using my own words to comfort me.”
“...Maybe.”
The corners of your lips twitch up. You turn in his hold, laying your hands on chest. “Kinda fitting though. This is like my Olympics– my silver medal.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Fraser mumbles, cringing, the wound still healing after months since then. He then shrugs. “And I wouldn’t say that. For one, you weren’t playing. And two,” a sly smirk touches the corner of his mouth though there’s still some pain in it, “at least I made it to the finals and got silver.”
“Wooow. So it’s like that?”
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding!” He tightens his hold when you try leaving, kissing all over your face just in case. “This is like your Olympics and just like it, I’m going to take care of you through the loss.”
“Damn right you are.”
♡ Mavrik Bourque ♡
“What happened? Did they score? Did the other team get fouled?” The questions fire out from your mouth as you sprint back to the living room, drying your hands on your jeans.
Mavrik chuckles. “Nothing happened. We’re still on hydration break.”
“Still?” You huff, dropping next to your boyfriend. “So fucking long.”
“You want hydration breaks too if you were playing in the heat for an hour. It’s like 38 degrees over there.”
“You’re right. You’re right.” You raise your hands in surrender and turn to the tv with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. Take all the time you need, boys. Pretend to drink ‘til you’re running with bladders full.”
Mavrik shakes his head, failing to hide the smile on his lips.
The game resumes and like a switch, the silliness is shut off. You’re quiet as you watch with an intensity Mavrik rarely sees. The comments still come though, but they’re delivered more deadpan than with your usually joking manner.
“Didn’t know I was watching Broadway with those acts.” You mumble when a player on the other team falls like they were shot in the back and cradles their leg with an exaggerated pained expression only to, seconds later, look fine while walking away. “That would've won a Tony."
Not even three minutes later, you roll your eyes after what seemed like the tenth fall. “Are these fucking seals or futbol players? What’s up with all the flopping?”
And it’s not just dry humor.
Your team commits a stupid mistake, awarding the other team a direct free kick. You don’t say a word as everyone gets into position but your eyes say it all. You bite your curled finger, the player testing your patience before finally kicking the ball. Whether it was luck or skill, the ball manages to get past the goalies fingertips and into the goal.
Your reaction? Instead of screaming or cursing the tv out like anyone else would, you wrap your hands around your throat and make a choking sound. Then, like letting your frustrations out on yourself wasn’t enough, you wrap your hands around Mavrik’s neck, not squeezing but holding.
Mavrik smiles.
“Why the fuck would they do that?” You push through gritted teeth. “My man wouldn't let that happen.” You both know you’re talking about the player that’s currently sitting on the bench, having been subbed out, and not the one you’re currently choking.
However, nothing can ease the frustration you feel when the game ends and your team, after putting up a fight, gets eliminated. No dry humor or acts can make the pain in your heart hurt less or the tears burning your eyes and trailing down your cheeks dry up.
You straddle Mavrik’s hips, head tucked under his chin and arms curled between your bodies. He soothes you with his strong arms that any other day would’ve instantly cheered you up. “I hope they lose.” You mutter bitterly. “I hope that bastard gets a red card and loses.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to wish bad on others. It’s not nice and, y’know, karma.”
“They did it first by giving me my thirteenth reason.” You say with so much conviction, with an expression so serious, as if it wasn’t a stupid pop culture reference.
Mavrik bites down on his lip, trying to prevent the smile spreading on his lips and especially the laughter threatening to spill. He tries so hard but a smidge of laughter slips by and he can’t hold back anymore.
“This ain’t a joking matter, Mavrik.” You grumble and softly pinch his side. Though your words nor action stop his laughter. If anything, it makes it grow.
“I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s not funny.” His accent is strong as he speaks, the laughter loosing it. Then, just for a second, the laughter and rumble underneath you stops but as fast as it did, it resumes.
You pull back, looking at him in disbelief. “You’re laughing? My team just got eliminated, I’m depressed and you’re laughing?” The laughter doesn’t stop. You huff with a frown and get off his lap. “Let’s see if you still laughing when I jump out the window.”
You don’t get far, not even a foot on the floor, before Mavrik pulls you back on his lap, holding you there by the waist. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says with a chuckle and tilts his head when you avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry, my beautiful girl.”
“I’m mad at you right now.”
Mavrik smirks. He plants a kiss to your jaw with a whisper of your name then to your cheek before leaving one on the corner of your lips. It’s then you finally glance at him.
“I’m sorry for laughing.” He says, his accent soft now and expression genuine. “Please forgive me.”
There’s a dramatic pause before you speak, each word breaking a piece of and revealing a smile. “It’s not your fault. It’s one of the many burdens I gotta carry for being hilarious. But you’re forgiven.”
Mavrik smiles and gives a sweet kiss to your lips. “Thank you.”
You hum and lay your forehead against his. It feels nice but then you hear the tv and are reminded of the game. “Mavs.” You whisper with a frown, eyes already prickling with tears.
Mavrik doesn’t a word and pulls you down his chest, letting you get comfortable as you nestle into his arms and tuck your head back under his chin. He kisses your head for good measures.
♡ Luke Hughes ♡
It was a rare day where the sun wasn’t burning you to a crisp the moment you step outside. The temperature wasn’t so hot or humid. You could actually do things without wanting to peel your skin off or be in a bad mood.
However, you’re inside and in the worst mood. It was your fault really. You decided to be the world’s best, number one fan rather than going out with Luke and the rest to whatever ‘fun’ thing they decided to do and no convincing changed that. The result? You under the covers with tears, snot and a broken heart.
That’s how Luke finds you after he comes bursting into the bedroom like an excited golden retriever, rambling on about something you don’t catch and don’t bother too. You’re still, asleep by the looks of it but it’s proven wrong when Luke pulls the covers enough to see your red puffy eyes before you tug it back down.
His smile drops and a small breath leaves him. He takes a seat by your curled legs and with a soft voice, “they lost?” One look at the mounted tv would answer his question, the aftermath still showing.
It causes a stinging behind your eyes and nose. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your voice is hoarse as you speak.
“…Guess that means you’re going for USA now.” He lightly jokes.
You frown. “You’re not funny.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like last night. Didn’t you say you were going to pee yourself if I didn’t stop being funny.”
“Luke,” you sigh, starting to get annoyed, “I love you but I want to be alone right now. Let me drown in my sorrows. Please.”
A frown tugs on his lips, his gaze where your head is, eyeing it like he could see through the covers. Your expression, the sad puppy look, stuck in his mind. Then you turn your back to him and against his better judgement, Luke respects your wishes.
Only for an hour that is.
He comes back, more excited than before despite trying to keep it down. He pulls the covers back and before you can protest, he tells you, or more like commands you, to get up, get dressed and meet him at the dock in ten minutes, leaving no room for arguments. He repeats himself before leaving the room and you, confused and irritated.
The ten minutes are up by the time you show up at the dock, traces of your defeat still there despite trying to cover it up or maybe you didn’t try. Just like you don’t try to pretend to be happy, not even a forced smile. The usual twinkle whenever you look at Luke not there.
The sight has Luke’s smile faltering but not disappearing.
“I’m here.” You mumble like it’s taking everything in you to say two simple words. “So what—”
“No talking. Just— c’mon.” Luke takes your hand and leads you to the boat.
No words are said on the way or as Luke drives the boat across the lake. But a glance back at you, Luke can tell your mood was slowly lifting. The sunshine is bringing back color to your face, the wind’s blowing the emotions away, and he can see the faint smile on your lips as you feel what nature has to give.
The engines are cut once Luke finds the perfect spot on the lake with no prying eyes or ears. He pulls out a picnic basket he hid and lays a blanket on the boat’s floor, inviting you to sit with him with a smile and hand ready to help you down. He has all your favorites—snacks, drink, sweets— all neat and decorated in cute containers.
“You did all of this in an hour?” You ask, genuinely shocked.
Pride takes over his features though his smile is bashful. “The guys helped but I did most of the work.”
After eating, you two cuddle up and watch as the sky turns from blue to beautiful shades of orange, yellow, pink and purple. It’s quiet. Calm.
“Thank you.” You whisper, not wanting to mess the peace but needing Luke to know. “For this. For everything. I appreciate it.”
He meets your gaze, a soft smile on his lips. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to make sure you’re happy. Even if you want to drown in your sorrows instead.”
You let out a small laugh before bringing him into a kiss.
what would you like to read? would love some requests that i can chip away at :) DMs and request box are always open even if you’d just like to chat!! 🩷😚
i currently have 2 works in my drafts so will hopefully get those out asap!
also, lowk thinking of starting an au series…what do we think? i love writing oneshots too but wonder what it would be like to write a continuous story
Some of the upcoming fics will have more than one part posted! Just for length purposes and the way I ended up writing them, it works out better that way!
Once I have the next part posted, I'll go back and link it to the end of the previous for easier reading :)
