Prompt: will knows he shouldn’t be doing it, he knows you’re technically his fiancé, not his wife. But he can’t help it as he keeps letting ‘my wife’ slip out when talking about you
requested
It all starts with takeout. You, Will, and Mack are sprawled around the living room after a long day, a game humming on the TV more for background noise than anything else. Mack is half paying attention from the floor with his back against the couch, scrolling on his phone as Will is stretched out beside you, one arm behind your shoulders.
Nobody wants to cook, it was a given by the groans each time one of you mentioned going to the grocery store. Which means, Will is ordering food. He has the restaurant on speaker for a second as he pulls up the menu, then switches it off and sits forward, one hand holding the phone to his ear while the other taps lightly against your leg.
“Yeah, can I do the chicken parm,” he says easily, glancing at Mack as he points to himself, silently telling Will the same for him. “Can I make that two, actually?” Will says, nodding a bit as his eyes flick down to your finger which is pointing at what you want on your menu. “And my wife will have the vodka rigatoni.”
The side of the room you and Mack are sitting on goes dead silent, your head snapping toward him. Next to you, Mack’s eyes go comically wide at the exact same moment yours do. He looks at you, and you look at him. Then, both of you slowly turn back toward Will.
Your fiancé, meanwhile, is just nodding into the phone like he has not just dropped a bomb in the middle of ordering Italian.
“Yeah,” he says to the person on the other end, completely calm. “And can you add an order of garlic knots too?”
Mack is staring at him like he has just witnessed something medically concerning, and you are pretty sure you are too. And as Will ends the call, setting his phone on the coffee table, he leans back again, not saying a word to either of you.
“Uh, what was that?” Mack asks, and the question causes Will to blink in confusion.
“What was what?”
“You just said ‘my wife’ like it was nothing.” Mack says, sitting up a little straighter now.
“Okay?” Will says, glancing between the two of you, looking genuinely confused by this being a topic.
“Okay?” Mack repeats. “That’s your response? Okay?”
You can feel heat climbing into your face, because there is something about the total lack of care that gets you. There’s no teasing tone, no pause, no look to see your reaction first. He just said it like he didn’t even notice.
“You can’t just say that,” you say, your voice feeling small, wobbly almost.
“Why not?” Will asks, his mouth twitches as he takes in the shocked expressions.
“Because I’m not your wife.”
“Engaged is close.”
“No, it is not, that’s skipping arguably a very important part.” Mack disagrees, making a noise like he can’t believe his best friend doesn’t see the problem.
“You did want the rigatoni, right?” Will questions, and that completely derails you for a minute.
“Well… yes.” You start, your face feeling so hot you could probably cook an egg on it. “But Will, that’s not the point.”
“It’s what you wanted, I don’t see the big deal here.” He says, kicking his feet back up on the coffee table as he watches a bit of the game on the tv.
“You’re impossible.” Mack aims at his best friend, dropping his head back against the couch with a groan.
You are still staring at Will, still in shock, in awe. Still red in the face and honestly starting to sweat a bit. He catches it, finally giving you one of those lazy smiles that has the power to make you smile even on your worst days.
“What?” He questions, and he would never admit it, but seeing you like this is half of the fun.
“You said it so casually.”
“Because it felt casual.” He says, his arm finding its way behind you again.
“Can you get all of this mushy stuff out of the way before my dinner gets here? If you guys flirt in front of my chicken I’m going to chuck it at your head.” Mack says to Will, scoffing slightly as he looks back down to his phone. You could only guess he’s lighting the Sharks group chat up with what just happened.
You try to ignore the way your chest has gone all soft and weird over two words, but it does not work. And the thing that is almost as shocking as being called his wife, is that he’s not flustered or backtracking, hell, he doesn’t even seem interested in defending himself.
—
The second time it happens, Grace is in town. She comes down for the weekend, and by Saturday afternoon the three of you are out shopping, carrying too many bags and stopping every few blocks because Grace sees something else she wants to drag you toward. It is fun and loud and easy, full of teasing, slightly too much caffeine, and Will pretending he is not just there to carry things.
Eventually, you duck into a grocery store because Grace wants snacks for later, and Will insists on grabbing stuff for dinner. So you are standing in front of a shelf full of pasta sauces, comparing jars while Grace debates noodles a few feet away. Will grabs a jar of sauce, slipping it into the cart and starting to walk.
“No, not that one.” You say, grabbing it out of the cart and putting it back on the shelf.
“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, turning his gaze to you as your eyes scan the shelves.
“You always pick that one.”
“And?”
“And it’s too chunky, it freaks me out.” you say, reaching past him to take a different jar off the shelf. “This one is better.” Will looks at the jar in your hand for maybe half a second, debating whether or not he wants to tease you about the smoothness of pasta sauce, but he chooses against it. He just nods, and swaps them without argument.
“You’re right. Happy wife, happy life.”
Grace stills, you freeze with your hand still hovering between the shelves, and Will just continues on like nothing happened.
“Excuse me?” she says, way too loudly, all thoughts of noodles leaving her head. “No,” she says, already laughing. “I must have heard that wrong.”
“What did I say?” Will asks, his wide grin telling both you and his sister that he knew exactly what he said.
“You called her your wife, in the pasta aisle.” She dead pans, shock and surprise so evident on her face and in her voice.
Will just stares at his sister like she is the one being weird. “And?” He says with a shrug, leaning against the cart.
“Can we maybe lower our voices?” You ask as you feel your face getting hotter by the second, not wanting to make a scene in a grocery store.
“Does he do this all the time?” Grace asks, pointing between the two of you delighted.
“Sometimes.” You supply.
“Sometimes?”
“More than sometimes.” You mutter.
Grace makes the most dramatic noise in the world and grabs your arm. “And you let him?”
Will answers again before you can. “She doesn’t stop me.”
“That is not the same thing,” You say, trying to defend yourself.
“Why don’t you stop him?” Grace asks the question as she narrows her eyes.
You open your mouth, but then close it, no words coming out. You never thought in the pasta aisle you would be having this conversation, but here you are. The siblings wait for you to respond, Grace still floored, and Will still leaning against the cart, waiting for whatever bullshit excuse he knows you’re going to try and supply. He knows how it affects you, he sees it on your face every time the words ‘accidentally’ slip from his lips. But you come up short, no explanation will cover your tracks, because the truth is embarrassingly obvious, and Grace sees it.
“Oh my god,” she says, everything falling into place in her mind. “You like it.”
“No, I don’t.” You hesitate as the lie leaves your mouth.
“You do,” she says immediately. “That was way too slow.”
Will is smiling now, small and smug and fond in equal measure.
“Don’t.” You say, pointing your manicured finger at him.
“I didn’t say anything.” He says, holding his hands up in defense.
Grace starts laughing so hard she has to grab onto the cart for support. “I cannot believe this.” But she is still laughing as you move on to the next aisle, and every time she catches your eye after that she starts grinning all over again.
—
The worst part is that it gets under your skin for the rest of the day. Not in a bad way, but in the kind of way where your skin feels flushed everytime you think of it.
Happy wife, happy life.
By the time the teasing stops, dinner is ate, and the sun has long since set, Grace is in the guest room, and the apartment has gone quiet. You are both in bed, the room dark except for the small lamp on Will’s nightstand. He is lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, while you curl on your side facing him, one hand resting on his chest.
For a little while neither of you say anything, but you break first.
“You really don’t care, do you?”
“About what?” Will asks, glancing down at you.
“You know what.” You say, propping yourself up a bit so you can see his face clearly. His hair is messy against the pillow, and it takes everything in you not to run your fingers through it and forget about it all.
“Ah, you must mean the pasta sauce.” Will says, and he can’t keep the cheeky look off his face as you gasp.
“I’m not talking about the sauce, William.”
“Woah, full name?” He gapes for a second, but then he cocks his head, looking into your eyes. “You mean calling you my wife?”
You press your lips together, already a little embarrassed that you are bringing it up at all. “Yes.”
“Why would I care?” He asks, looking like he almost doesn’t understand why everyone is so shocked by this.
“Because-“ You start, but you honestly aren’t too sure what to say. He looks at you for a second, expression softening into something quieter. There is still the amusement there, but underneath it is that steadiness he always gives you when he is being real.
“Because?” He asks, waiting for you to continue, but you don’t. You just look down, at a complete loss for words. “No baby, I don’t care that I’m saying it because you’re gonna be my wife,” he says simply. “I know you’re not yet,” he confesses as his fingers slide up and down your back. “I just don’t feel weird about it.”
“You don’t think people will think it’s strange?” You ask him, your heart speeding up, and your eyes making their way back to his.
He lets out a short laugh. “People do think it’s strange. Mack looked like he was about to pass out the other night.” That pulls a laugh from you. “And Grace almost yelled in the grocery store.”
“She did yell in the store.” You correct, your pointer finger tracing small shapes on his bare chest as you smile. But then your voice softens again. “Still. It doesn’t… I don’t know.. embarrass you?”
“Why would I be embarrassed?” Will ask, his brows drawing together like the question itself does not make sense. You don’t know how to answer that, and maybe he can tell that because he answers for you. “I love you,” he says, his fingers going to your chin so your eyes would meet his. “I’m going to marry you. You’re the person I think about when I think about home and my future and all of it. So why would I be ashamed of calling you what you’re going to be?”
You stare at him, at a complete loss for words. And Will just smiles softly, the teasing gone from him. His hand comes up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. “Does it freak you out?” And the level of sincerity in his voice hits you like a blow to the chest.
“No,” you say softly. “It doesn’t freak me out, it’s just,” you look down at his chest for a second, fingertips smoothing over his peck. “You say it so easily.”
“Because it is easy.”
You laugh a little, but it comes out shaky around the edges. “You know that makes it worse, right?”
“Worse?”
“In a good way,” you mumble and Will’s face changes, it is subtle, but you see it. He cocks his head, almost like he wants to hear you say it again. You make a small sound and hide your face against his chest. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You say with a whine, as he laughs softly, one hand sliding to the back of your head to hold you there.
“So you do like it.” He jokes, but then yelps as you pinch his side, shoving you softly as you both laugh. “I hope you know it’s not some joke,” he says quietly. “I’m not saying it to mess with you.” His fingers move, tracing slowly along your back. “Sometimes it just comes out.”
The room feels very still all of a sudden, and you glare at him weakly as he just grins and leans up enough to kiss you, soft and slow. When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours.
“I can stop,” he murmurs. “If you want me to.”
That gets your attention, and because it is late, or because your heart too full of love to lie, you whisper, “I don’t want you to stop.” Will goes still for half a second before he smiles, and it is soft and bright at the same time.
“No?” He questions, and you shake your head. His arms tightening around you, drawing you fully against him until there is no space left between you. “Good,” he says. “Because I have no intentions of stopping.”
The players reaction to the fans giving gifts to their girlfriends that isn't famous,like she just have a normal life but date them. Like when youtubers receive mailbox and the fans send present to their child or girlfriends,i think is cute 🥹
unsuspecting gifts
pairings: macklin celebrini, will smith, fraser minten, ben kindel, connor bedard x reader
summary: you didn't expect to get gifts from everyone
warnings: fluff
wc: 1.7k
MACKLIN CELEBRINI
you don't expect to be noticed. at mack's games, you keep things simple -- quiet clothes, quiet presence, just another face in the crowd. you like it that way. it lets your focus on him, on the speed and sharpness of his game, the way everything else fades when he's on the ice.
but tonight, people are looking. it starts subtly -- whispers, glances that linger a little too long. you try to ignore it until intermission, when someone approaches you.
you hesitate, then nod. her face lightens up as she presses a bracelet into your hand, beads in team colours. "i made this for you."
the sweetness of it catches you off guard. "oh thank you," you say softly.
after that, it doesn't stop. someone else hands you a folded note before briskly walking away. by the time the game resumes, your hands are full of little, thoughtful things, kindness from people who don't know you, but still chose you.
it's overwhelming, but gentle. mack finds you after the game, eyes scanning until they land on you. he smiles at first -- then pauses when he sees everything you're holding.
"what happened?" he asks, a quiet laugh slipping through as he drops into the seat beside you.
you lift the bracelet slightly. "look at what your fans gave me."
his expression shift, surprise softening into something more careful as he looks at you. "you okay?"
you nod, a small smile forming. "yeah. it's actually really nice."
relief settles into his shoulders. he nudges your knee, grin returning, softer this time. "they like you," he says.
you shake your head lightly. "i think they just like you."
he glances at the gifts, then back at you, something warm and certain in his expression.
"pretty sure it's you that they love."
WILL SMITH
it's after a game, the arena is still buzzing, the kind of electric energy that clings to will even as he steps out of it. you're half a step behind him, tucking into your usual place -- close enough to matter, far enough to stay out of the spotlight. that's how it's always been. you have your life, your routines, your quiet normalcy. he has...all of this.
so when someone calls your name -- not his -- you almost don't turn.
"hey umm, this is for you."
you blink, surprised, as a fan leans over the barrier, holding out a small gift bag. it's nothing extravagant, just tissue paper and a shy smile behind it. you hesitate, glancing instinctively at will.
he's already looking at you. not confused or annoyed, just soft, like he's trying not to grin too wide.
"go on," he murmurs, nudging your elbow.
you take it, offering a polite thank you, but it doesn't stop there. another voice, another hand, something wrapped this time. then another. suddenly, you're the one being noticed, pulled into the orbit you've always watched from the edges.
it's overwhelming in the gentlest way. will shifts closer, a quiet presence at your side. not possessive or showy, just there with his hand brushing yours briefly, grounding you.
'i think they like you more than me," he says under his breath, amusement threading through it.
you huff softly, still dazed. "they barely even know me."
he glances at you then, really looks, like the answer is obvious. "they know enough."
you don't ask what that means.
later, when you're back in the car, the noise gone and the night settling around you, he reaches over and tugs one of the gift bags into his lap, peeking inside like a kid.
a quiet laugh escapes him. "this one is so you."
you watch him, the way he smiles -- not at the crowd, not for camera, but because of this, and because of you -- and something warm settles in your chest. you're not part of his world, not really. but somehow, they've made space for you anyway, and so has he.
FRASER MINTEN
you're not at the game tonight -- just at home, curled up on the couch with a blanket and your phone on silent, half-watching, half-waiting for him to come home. you like it that way. you're in the quiet of your home, and get to look up to see fraser do what he loves, and he knew that. he's always known you're not one to always love the loud arena, but you're still at home supporting him just as hard.
he doesn't mention anything unusual when he texts you quickly before the game, just a quick thinking of you, like always. it isn't until later, long after the final buzzer, that something feels different. there's a pause before his next message. typing, stopping, typing again.
when he finally calls, his voice is softer than usual, threaded with something fond and a little disbelieving.
he tells you it started with one fan by the glass during warmups, holding out a small, neatly wrapped package, with a small sign saying they had something for you. they didn't ask for a puck like everyone else around them, just if he could give their gift to you.
when he took the gift and said he'd pass it on to you, then came another, and another. by the time he made his way back down the tunnel, he had a handful of little things carefully tucked away. a handwritten note, a bracelet, a tiny keychain. things that felt chosen and made for you, not general things that were bought not too long ago.
he laughs quietly, like he can't quite process it. not in a mocking way, but in a grounded, slightly shy way he has when something catches him off guard.
"they just...wanted you to have all these."
you can picture the way he'd say it, shrugging a little, like he doesn't want to make it bigger than it is. but you hear the undercurrent too -- the protectiveness, the quiet pride. the way he didn't brush it off, and let the staff hold onto the gifts. he kept every single one, ready to bring them to you.
later, when he gets home, he sets them out for you with surprising care, like they're fragile. like they matter only because they were for you. and when you look up at him, a little overwhelmed by the amount of things people had to gift you, he just smiles, easy and steady.
BEN KINDEL
you stand a few steps off to the side, arms crossed, trying to look casual while ben signs autographs for a long line of fans. even on a day off, he's magnetic -- smiling, joking, shaking hands with everyone. your chest swells a little watching him.
"here you go," someone says suddenly, holding out a small wrapped package. you blinked, startled. "uhh...this is for you."
you glance around, confused, but the fan just smiles and nods before moving on. you're now holding a little gift, your cheeks heating a bit. you weren't expecting anything -- you though that no one really knows you, and didn't really think that people would care to give you something.
before you can overthink it, ben notices. he's mid-signature, but his eyes catch the exchange. his brow arches as he waves at you. "hey! is that...for you?"
you nod, a little shy. "yeah...i guess someone actually knows about me."
ben's grin spreads wide, genuine and teasing. he finishes up the autograph he's signing, quickly making his way over to you with easy confidence. "well, look at that," he says, crouching slightly to get closer. "you've got yourself your own fans."
you laugh nervously. "i didn't expect this when i decided to come today."
"exactly," he says softly, draping an arm around your shoulders. "you're just being you, and somehow, people already love you for it. and let me tell you? i do too. probably more than anyone here." his thumb brushes your arm gently.
you shake your head, smiling. "ben-"
"nope," he interrupts, smirking. "this is official. you get lovely gifts, and i get to have the proud boyfriend look. deal?"
you laugh, leaning into him. "deal."
he kisses your temple, then looks down at the small package in your hands with a small grin. "seeing people love you just as much as i do has officially made my day...though i might be a little jealous of whoever gave you this."
CONNOR BEDARD
the engine hums low as connor pulls out of the arena parking lot, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against it. you're mid-sentence about something completely normal -- groceries, maybe, or a show you want to watch -- when he exhales a quiet laugh.
"still interesting," he says, glancing at the small crowd gathered near the exit. "they wait out here every time."
you shrug, used to it by now. "i mean, you're kinda a big deal."
he huffs. "kinda?"
as the car slows, a few fans try to get closer, waving. connor rolls down his window automatically, his posture shifting -- polite and practiced, expecting they want to take a photo with him or want him to sign something as usual.
a girl at the front beams, but her eyes flick past him -- straight to you.
"oh my god, hi!" she says.
you blink, not expecting to be talked to. "hi?"
connor's brows knit slightly. he glances at you, then back at everyone, confused but still smiling. "did you want a photo, or-?"
"actually," another fan cuts in, holding up a small gift bag, "this is for you." she leans a bit, offering it toward the window.
you freeze. "for...me?"
connor fully turns now, his confusion obvious. "wait, what?"
the first girl nods eagerly. "we just think you're really cool, and wanted to give you this."
connor lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "you guys are bringing her gifts now?"
you nudge his arm lightly. "don't sound so offended."
"i'm not offended," he says, trying to defend himself, shaking his head even though a grin breaks through. "i just- this is new."
you accept the bag carefully. "thank you! this is really sweet."
another fan hands over something small -- a handmade bracelet. "we see you at games sometimes," she says. "and you just seem really nice."
connor leans back in his seat, watching you with an expression that softens into something quieter, more personal. "they like you more than me," he mutters.
you smile, glancing at him. "obviously."
he snorts, but there's pride in it. "yeah," he says, pulling the car forward once the crowd clears. "obviously."
a/n: i'm starting a movement and putting all of you guys on my other goat ben kindel
song on repeat: not a song, but i'm watching the pitt :P
the bar was currently packed, you weren’t surprised though considering half the team had shown up after the game and apparently decided that one win was enough of a reason to take over an entire section of the place.
will had one arm draped over the back of your chair, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve while he argued his side to tyler about something. you smile, standing up to excuse yourself from the table.
“bathroom.”
will glances over at you, stopping his conversation with tyler.
“want me to come with you?”
you laugh, “to the bathroom?”
“you know what i mean.”
“i’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
he looks at you unconvinced but nods slowly, you lean down a place a quick kiss to his cheek.
“i’ll be right back.”
“okay.”
his hand caught yours for a second, squeezing tightly before letting go. you turn and disappear into the crowd, finding your way to the bathroom which had a longer line than expected.
by the time you finally escaped and started making your way back, you were already looking toward the table. you could spot most of the team from halfway across the room.
you start your walk back when the call of your name stops you.
“y/n?”
you turn and for a second you had no idea who you were looking at and then it clicks.
“josh?”
his face lit up the second he realizes you remember him.
“holy shit.”
you laugh, shaking your head. “oh my god! i haven’t seen you in forever.”
“literally years.”
the conversation begins to flow easily, as you both catch up about life after high school. then it goes to high school memories and teachers you both had and shared classes and inner jokes.
back at the table, will notices how long it’s been taking you to come back. his eyes drift around the bar when they finally land on you and suddenly mack’s story wasn’t as important anymore to him.
“dude i was getting to the good part.” macklins gaze follows will and it hits him. you talking to some some guy who was standing way too close to wills liking.
“who’s that?”
macklin turns to face will in confusion, “how am i supposed to know that?”
“i’ve never seen him before.” will mumbles, his eyes never leaving y/n.
“well yeah; i figured we gathered that already.”
will gives mack a look, rolling his eyes causing him to grin at his friends jealousy. “you gotta relax, they’re just talking.”
“i am relaxed, okay?”
mack snorts at that, shaking his head in disapproval before taking another swig out of his beer. “yeahhh sure.”
his eyes found you again automatically, he hated that macklin noticed because now it looked like he was staring.
which he wasn't, mostly?
he just wanted to know who the guy was, that was all.
“you’ve looked over like seven times.”
“no i haven’t.”
“eight now.”
“quit fucking counting.”
macklin laughs, throwing his hands up in defence letting his friend sulk and stare at his girlfriend who was too busy catching up with some mystery guy.
across the room, the conversation had shifted between you and josh. you weren't exactly trapped but you were definitely stuck. every time you tried to wrap things up, josh found another question to ask or another story from high school. another reason to keep talking.
"so how long have you been here?"
"a couple years."
"that's crazy."
you smile politely, nodding your head.
"yeah."
"you look exactly the same."
"thanks."
"seriously."
you laughed awkwardly, not knowing what else to say but wanting so badly to get out of the conversation in the most nicest non awkward way possible.
then josh reached out and grabbed your arm, not aggressively or enough to cause a scene but just enough to rub will in the wrong way.
will saw your shoulders tighten at his touch for a split second and the awkward little laugh that followed as josh kept blabbering on about god knows what.
that was enough.
his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he begins to walk up to you. you spot him almost right away, relief washing over you.
an easy exit finally.
will notices the look on your face almost instantly and suddenly he felt a whole lot less ridiculous for getting up and storming over.
josh was still talking when will stepped in behind you, his arm sliding around your waist pulling you gently back against his chest.
"hey babe."
you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you'd been holding.
"hi."
will's hand settled against your side, his thumb brushing lightly against your waist.
"there you are."
his eyes finally moved to josh and the smile he offered was the fakest you’ve ever seen, causing you to bite back a laugh.
"who's this?"
"oh right yeah. will, this is josh we went to high school together."
will held out his hand and josh shook it and you could tell somehow even the handshake felt intimidating.
"nice to meet you."
"you too."
the silence afterward was painful. you bit your lip as josh shifted awkwardly and will remained completely still beside you, arm firmly around your waist.
finally josh laughs nervously, "well. i should probably get going."
"probably," will agreed.
"will."
"what?" he says shrugging, clearly seeing nothing wrong with his response.
josh mumbles a quick bye before disappearing into the crowd. the second he was gone, you burst out laughing.
will looked down at you, already annoyed.
"don't."
you laughed harder at his reaction causing him to shake his head.
"i'm serious."
"you should've seen your face."
"what about it?”
"you know exactly what."
he rolled his eyes, biting back a smile before pulling you flush against him.
"he was weird, i don’t like him.”
"he wasn't weird."
"he grabbed your arm."
"he touched my arm will."
"same thing."
"not the same thing."
you grin up at him, reaching up to brush his curls from his eyes before placing a kiss against his cheek softly.
"you were so jealous."
“yeah yeah, tease all you want. you looked slightly uncomfortable, so i did the first thing i could think of.”
“you noticed?”
“of course i did, you’re my girlfriend. i notice every little thing about you.”
you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck gently pulling him down to press a soft kiss against his lips.
his hand squeezed your waist gently.
"you okay?"
you nod, "yeah."
"good."
"you're cute when you're jealous."
will groans, "don't start again.”
you laugh, patting the sides of his shoulders as his hands run down your arms and to your hands.
"come on."
"where are we going?"
"back to the table because i'm not letting macklin make fun of me by himself."
╰ Synopsis You’re used to Will keeping his hands subtle in public, but tonight he has no mind on that; pulling you between his legs at the bar, kissing you sweetly in front of everyone, holding you close the whole time.
tags/contains Will Smith x fem!reader. Fluff, established relationship, touch starved in public, subtle pda, pda, kissing in front of others, obsessed will, requested.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. Could you tell I had no idea what to do with this?
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
If you knew one person who hated pda in front of others, it was your boyfriend, Will.
At home it was one story. The second the front door clicked shut behind you, he’d be on you; arms wrapping around your waist from behind, chin hooking over your shoulder while you tried to kick off your shoes, lips brushing the side of your neck like he couldn’t wait another second.
He’d pull you down onto the couch with him, long legs tangling with yours, hands sliding under your hoodie to rest warm against your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles until you laughed and squirmed.
He’d kiss you slow and deep like he was making up for every minute you’d spent apart, murmuring against your mouth how much he’d missed you, how pretty you looked even in sweatpants and his hoodie that swallowed you whole.
He’d cuddle into your side during movie nights, head on your chest, one hand always finding yours to lace your fingers together, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Sometimes he’d just hold you from behind while you cooked, swaying slightly like it was a slow dance, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder blade whenever you reached for something on the counter.
He hated the thought of having his hands off you.
But the moment you stepped outside; it was a completely different story.
In public, Will kept it subtle. Always touching, but never made it obvious. A hand resting low on your back as you walked through a crowded bar. Fingers brushing yours when he passed you a drink. His knee pressed lightly against yours under the table at dinner with teammates.
He’d drape an arm across the back of your chair, thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder, but nothing that screamed couple in the way other couples did: sloppy kisses, loud declarations, hands everywhere like they were staking claim in neon.
And you were fine with it. You’d been together a little over a year now, long enough that you’d learned his rhythm. You weren’t big on pda either, you didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The way he looked at you when no one else was watching, the way his eyes softened the second you walked into a room, the things he’d whisper to you when it was just the two of you was enough.
He wasn’t embarrassed of you. If anything, he loved showing you off in his own way. He’d introduce you to new people with his arm casually looped around your shoulders, proud smile tugging at his lips every time someone complimented how good you looked together.
He’d text you links to articles or tiktoks with captions like “Us” and half of them were disgustingly couple-y. He just didn’t want other people seeing the parts of him that belonged only to you. The greedy way he held you at home, the way he’d bury his face in your neck and breathe you in like you were oxygen.
Tonight you and Will went out with a few of his teammates to the bar a couple blocks from the rink that had become your unofficial spot. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something you all learned to enjoy going to. You’d dressed like you always did for a place like this: nothing too revealing, nothing too casual.
Will included you in every conversation like he always did. He’d lean in when Macklin was ranting about a bad call from the last game, repeating the punchline so you could laugh too, or he’d nudge you gently and say, “Babe, tell them what you said about that hit exactly.” His voice easy, and his eyes stayed on you longer than usual.
When the bartender came over, Will ordered your usual without asking and then slid it toward you with a small.
A little while later, you moved on the barstool. “I’ll be right back,” you murmured, slipping your hand from his.
Will nodded once, but as you stood, he reached over and tugged your glass closer to his spot, fingers brushing the condensation like he was guarding it. His other hand lingered in the air for half a second where yours had been before dropping back to the bar.
Once you came back from the bathroom after quickly fixing your lip combo in the mirror light, touching up the gloss that had faded from sipping your drink, you found Will still perched on his barstool, facing his teammates.
If you’d gone straight back to your own seat next to him, his broad back would’ve been turned to you the whole time. But the second he caught sight of you weaving through the crowd, his arm reached out without hesitation.
His fingers found yours, locking tight, and he tugged you gently toward him instead of letting you slide back onto your stool. “C’mere,” he murmured.
You let him pull you in, stepping right between his spread thighs until your hips brushed the edge of the stool. Your hands landed on his chest for balance, as he looked up at you.
“Where’d you go?” he asked, even though he knew.
“Bathroom,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “Took longer than I thought, someone was hogging the mirror.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and then he leaned in. The kiss was slow, sweet, nothing rushed or sloppy. Just his lips pressing to yours like it was the most normal thing in the world, his one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed locked with yours at his side.
Your breath caught. Will almost never kissed you in public, not where anyone could see. For a heartbeat you froze, surprised, but then you melted into it, leaning forward until your forehead brushed his when he finally pulled back.
He didn’t say anything about it. Just handed you your unfinished vodka soda with a small, crooked smile.
You turned with him so you were facing the group again, your back settling against his chest. His arm came across your front, forearm resting easy over your collarbone, fingers splayed loose but possessive against your shoulder. His other hand found your waist, every few minutes he’d tug you closer, like he couldn’t quite get enough, even though you were already pressed flush against him.
Macklin raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his mouth. “You finally figure out how arms work tonight?”
Will just tightened his hold a little, chin dipping to rest lightly on your shoulder as he shot Macklin a lazy look. “Shut up, Mack,” he said a little amused.
You stayed like that for a while, cocooned against him, his heartbeat steady against your back. His fingers kept moving in small, absent strokes along your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your ribs every now and then.
Eventually your heels started screaming. Standing this long in them, even leaning into him, made your calves burn.
You tilted your head back just enough to murmur against his jaw, “My legs are killing me.”
Will’s arm loosened instantly. “Sit,” he said softly, kissing the shell of your ear before letting you go.
For the rest of the night, Will didn’t let the space between you grow. He kept one hand on you at all times: resting on your thigh when you were back on your stool, thumb drawing slow, mindless patterns over the denim; sliding up to play with the ends of your hair when you laughed at something one of the guys said; brushing your lower back.
Every few minutes he’d press a quick kiss to your temple, or drop his chin to your shoulder just to murmur something dumb and sweet.
You were happy for it. The warmth of his palm against your skin felt like nice in public. The guys ribbed him lightly but Will just shrugged it off with a smile and never pulled away.
By the time you both said goodbyes and stepped out into the cool night air, your cheeks were flushed from the bar’s heat and from the way his hand had stayed tangled with yours the whole walk to the car.
When you got home, the apartment was quiet, you kicked the door shut behind you, already reaching to slip off your heels, but Will beat you to it.
He dropped to one knee right there at the edge of the bed, fingers gentle around your ankle as he lifted your foot and eased the first heel off. Then the second, thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot for a second, massaging away the ache without being asked.
You watched him, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did with him. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” you asked quietly.
He glanced up, brows lifting like he had no idea what you meant. “What? I always do this.” He asked setting your foot down and standing.
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “No, I mean.. being so touchy in front of everyone, kissing me like that. You never do that.”
He paused, then took your hand in both of his. Slowly he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t a guy show how much he loves his girlfriend?”
You laughed softly. “You never do it like that.”
He tilted his head, mock offended. “What? I always show everyone how much I love you.”
“Yeah,” you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “but not in a way that makes Macklin tease you for ten straight minutes.”
Will’s expression softened. You pulled him down to you, as he started crawling over you until his weight settled warm and solid, knees sinking into the comforter on either side of your hips.
He braced himself on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you, but close enough that you could feel every breath he took.
“I love you,” he said simply, as if it was the easiest truth in the world. His forehead rested against yours for a second before he kissed you, the kind of kiss he usually saved for when the door was locked and the lights were off. “I just.. wanted to be close to you tonight. Didn’t want to wait until we got home to touch you the way I always want to.”
His hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “I like when we keep things private. But sometimes..” He exhaled. “Sometimes I look at you laughing with the guys, or just sitting there looking like mine, and I want everyone to know.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until his chest pressed to yours. “That’s sweet,” you whispered against his mouth. “I liked tonight a lot.”
He smiled and kissed you again. “Me too.”
His hands found yours, fingers lacing tight as he settled more of his weight over you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of how you fit together.
Will Smith publicly loved many things in life; home alone, hockey, “people watching”. But off screen, he loved more. It wasn’t like he was planning on keeping his family a secret, he just had no reason to expose his children to the limelight—not that you cared. Plus, it’s not like the fans didn’t know of your existence. For years you were a blurry face in the background, a head leaned on his sister’s shoulder in her tiktoks, the woman everyone assumed was one of his cousins because you “had the same last name.” But then a fan invaded your privacy, and suddenly the whole world realized they never really knew Will Smith.
pairing dad!will smith x fem!reader Mrs Smith masterlist
pairing(s): fraser minten, connor bedard, will smith, macklin celebrini, matt rempe, michael kesselring x fem!reader
summary: green flag things/habits they do in your relationship
warnings/contents: pda, fluff, mentions of bars, drinking, lingerie
author's note: each individual part is a bit long (sorry if you don’t enjoy that) i got carried away, let me know if you like this !!!!
Fraser Minten (FM93)
Walks closer to the road
You never really noticed he did it until one of your mutual friends pointed it out. You were hanging out downtown Boston with Fraser and a couple friends, holding hands and catching up. The boys had went into a store wanting to look while the girls opted to stay out, sitting on a bench surrounded by high-rise buildings and the sound of the city. You were scrolling on TikTok, trying to find a video you had saved to show one of the girls when she spoke.
“He did that a lot, huh?” You looked up, confusion on your face. “Does what?” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “he always puts you in the sidewalk side with him closest to the street - like, all the time.” You were surprised, and it probably showed on your face as she replied, “you haven’t noticed?”
You really hadn’t. Maybe it was because you never payed that much attention to it in the moment, or that it had become second nature. When you thought back to memories of you two walking together down streets and sidewalks, you do remember him trading places if you weren’t already furthest from the road.
And it wasn’t just roads or sidewalks either - if you were at a family skate or at a rink while back in Vancouver, he was always closest to the center when you were skating side-by-side (meaning when you weren’t trying not to fall with him leading you), making sure you weren’t in the area that could get you knocked over.
You had brought it up to him that night in your apartment. You were both dressed in your pyjamas - Fraser in a pair of plaid pants and a grey sweatshirt, glasses perched on his nose while you were in a pair of his boxers and t-shirt, fluffy socks you had gotten from Chantal the year before at Christmas on your feet. He had gotten to grab some ice cream for you both, and when he sat down and pulled you to curl into him, you asked him.
“Why do you always make sure you’re closest to the road?” He had looked at you, cheeks red like he’d been caught doing something bad. “What do you mean?” He replied, spoon in his mouth. “You always make sure you’re closest to the road or I’m on the sidewalk side when we’re walking. Why is that?” Fraser just shrugged, taking the spoon out and getting more ice cream, “I don’t know. Just want you to be safe - didn’t really realize I was doing it. Does it bother you?”
You just smiled, dipping your spoon into the ice cream as well, “no. Quite the opposite actually.”
Connor Bedard (CB98)
Holds your bags
Connor holds your bags with no complaints, and does it out of his own will. You never asked him, not even once, not before it started and not during. Even if he gets teased for it online or by teammates, he just shrugs. It doesn’t matter if you have one bag or a million, heavy or light, he grabs it before you can even reach for it.
Bags full of things at the mall? Connor looks like a bellboy, bags on his arms from stores like Victoria’s Secret and Aritzia. Even if he has his own bags (probably from Lululemon or whatever stores sell shirts), he takes yours from you. At first you fought it, but you’ve now just learned to accept it.
Connor loads and unloads suitcases into cars and overhead cupboards in planes. Photos of you two leaving airports or hotels with Connor carrying everything and you carrying nothing except your purse or both of your phones had gone viral, and people had been upset at you - calling you lazy and ungrateful - until a reporter asked why he did it.
“I don’t know. Just don’t want her carrying things,” he scratched his neck, “plus, have to use my strength for something.”
The only time you ever carry things is when Connor is too drunk to remember. When he’s tipsy he still insists to carry your bag, or to give your bag to someone else so you don’t have to carry it (which makes you blush out of embarrassment). When he’s plastered he doesn’t realize or remember anything, and usually ends with you having to put him in sleep clothes or brush his teeth.
Any other time, he carries any and all bags you have. Doesn’t matter if they’re from a lingerie store or “girlie” store, he doesn’t bat an eye.
Will Smith (WS2)
Opens the car door for you
Will Smith was raised to be a gentleman. Always be respectful and polite, say your please and thank you’s, make eye contact, use your manners, and always open the door for someone (especially a woman).
You were surprised when he showed up on your first date. Most guys you had been with or been on a date with stayed in the car while you got in, but Will texted you when he was coming, met you at your front door, and followed you to the car, opening the door. You felt like a princess (as stupid as that sounds). That type of stuff should be bare minimum in a relationship, but it wasn’t. He got out and opened your car door again when you arrived at the restaurant, was respectful and nice the whole night, and opened your car door two more times. You ranted to your friends over the phone with blushed cheeks when you got back.
When you got together, you figured that this habit would end. That he didn’t have to “whoo” you anymore, and that once this honeymoon phase was over he’d go back to what he usually was like. But it didn’t. Because that’s how he was all the time.
Even if you’re in a hurry, or Mack is waiting in the car, Will will get out of the car and open your door for you. Fans had caught this and it became a thing on social media, always posting photos or videos of it happening. One time while you were texting Will’s mother Colleen, she had sent a video that had came across her timeline. She had sent a text along with it saying “you let me know if he stops and I’ll kick some sense into him”. You had chuckled and replied that he probably won’t stop.
Macklin Celebrini (MC71)
Always buys two snack options
You know the videos online of girlfriends saying they don’t want anything and then wanting whatever their boyfriend has? That’s you. You’re indecisive and you know - you’ll say you aren’t hungry and then want whatever Mack is having, or you’ll say you want one thing and want something different. Macklin has learned this about you, and after dating for awhile he knows how to solve this problem every time. You say you dont want anything? He gets extra of whatever he’s getting so you can have some.
When you’re driving and you pass a gas station, or you’re in a hotel and you pass a vending machine, and you say you want something? He’ll get what you want and something else you like (or another of one of his snacks) so you won’t be upset. He doesn’t worry about the extra money that it adds up to, he wants you to be happy. You both never really noticed it.
But others did. During the sleepover with Will and Toffoli, Tyler had brought it up after the younger boys had ordered their cookies and milk. He was on his cot, Mack and Will snacking away when he spoke, “when you do this with Y/n do you get another type as well or just this?” Mack had made a noise of confusion not knowing what he was talking about, but Will did.
“You always get two different things or something for her when you’re out, even if she says she doesn’t want anything.” Macklin just shrugged, going back to his phone. “I don’t know, I just know what she likes and want her to be happy.”
This was definitely going on the offside podcast when Tyler was on.
Matt Rempe (MR73)
Makes sure you get the first bite/waits for you
We all know Matt is a big guy, and he gets hungry. And before he was dating you, he wouldn’t wait to dive into his food - whether that was at home with his family or out with his teammates. But when he started dating you, something inside him screamed that he should wait for you. He didn’t know why he had that feeling, he just did.
If restaurants served him his food first, he’d just wait, his attention fully focused on you. You noticed it one time, and told him he could eat, but he just smiled at you with a lovesick look on his face, “I don’t need to. I’ll wait.” You raised an eyebrow, “you sure? It could get cold.” He just moved his hand from his lap to on the table, palm facing up and made a motion for you to put your hand in his, “I’m not worried about that.”
If you were staying in, food being delivered or reheated, Matt would wait. Sometimes you’d heat it up, put it on the coffee table in front of the couch and mumble that you’ll be back, he lets it sit there until you come back. Shared food and dessert he always lets you have the first bite. Late night drives to get ice cream from a specific gas station near you and sharing snacks on movie nights always looks like Matt letting you eat first.
He even does it at family dinners, the whole family diving in while you and Janice were still in the kitchen. He waited, hands in his lap, his eyes looking like a lost puppy waiting for their owner (according to Alley). When you came back and sat down, you kissed his cheek and when you finally ate, he did too.
Michael Kesselring (MK8)
Will switch shoes with you
The first time it happened was back in Utah. You had gone out to a bar with the team, you opting to walk and Michael coming because he would never let you walk alone if he could be there, day or night (especially at night, though he knew you could handle yourself). He had bought you some cute, black kitten heels a couple weeks before because he noticed you looking at them on a tab on your computer, and you never ask for anything (even though he tells you not to worry and he wants to spoil you, but you still don’t ask), so he bought them and you came home to find the exact pair you were eyeing on the bed.
Maybe you should’ve thought about what it would be liking walking to the bar, spending the night in them, and then walking back to your apartment, but you were too excited about them. Michael had a feeling you would get sick of them, but didn’t say anything. The night was spent dancing and drinking, Michael having an arm around your waist or midline, or around your neck swaying to the music. You were there for a couple hours, and close to the time you had planned to leave you had migrated to a stool at the bar, still present but getting off your heels.
When you walked back together, you tried to be discreet about the discomfort you were feeling, but the backs of your heels were causing blisters to form and the front were squishing your toes. You refused to accept defeat, asking to sit on a bench before you continued. Michael was leaning against a lamp post, watching you. You were rubbing your heel, about to put them on when he sat down beside you, “switch with me.”
He took the heel out of your hand and moved to remove other and placing them on a space on the bench beside him before untying the laces on hos sneakers. “Michael . . .” You trailed off, not knowing what to do. But your boyfriend is stubborn, shaking his head while saying not happening and placing the sneakers on your lap. You were too tired to care that they were dirty and sticky with alcohol, but you probably were dirty too - sweaty from dancing and drops of alcohol falling on you earlier.
You put the shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you could to not trip because your boyfriend was a giant and had giant feet. You look up once you’re done to see Michael standing in your heels, feet barely fitting in them. One part of you wanted to laugh, while the other wanted to tell him to sit down and give you your heels back, but you could tell from the look on his face that he knew what you were thinking and that it wasn’t going to happen.
You managed to make it to your shared apartment, slowly due to the tripping hazard from the other’s shoes, but no one complained once. Michael never protested or blamed you, and he didn’t even really talk about it after, just setting the shoes down and getting ready for bed lie usual.
Since that night you tried to wear more comfortable shoes to bars and restaurants, but sometimes the shoes went too good with the outfit and Michael even encouraged it, knowing how the night would end. He didn’t care, and he wants you to be happy.
You’re surprised there haven’t been pictures of his 6’5 form stumbling around in heels on the internet.
synopsis. as a sister of the infamous hughes, they were extremely protective over you— common brothers! they hated the idea of you dating a hockey player… they knew how they worked. luckily for them, you were never interested in them, until will came around. he swept you off your feet and soon you were dating him. you kept it a secret for a while… until luke goes snooping.
notes. reader is luke’s twin! reader also does all star cheer— idk much ab that so don’t mind any incorrect things but it’s not mentioned a lot. fluff, brothers being overprotective like always, mack appears ofc. maybe some angst… 2 year age gap but they don’t meet until wills on the sharks!
Sometimes you wondered how you were ever related to the brothers you were, even as a young child as you sat on the curb after too many games of road hockey and gave up, watching them as they continued playing without breaking a sweat like they were built for it— which they really were with your parents being into hockey. But they never pressured you into anything hockey, of course you played with your brothers because they always dragged you into the game to even a team between them… and you always did because you were tired of watching from the sidelines.
Your mom wanted you to be into sports, so as a child she looked into other things for you to do. Especially when you ran into the house crying your sweet eyes out because the boys were leaving you out, it wasn’t on purpose but it still always happened. That was the day she decided you needed something for yourself like the boys had for them.
You tried ballet but cried in the backseat of the car because it was too hard and the teacher was mean. She made you finish out the year saying, “Give it a year and than we’ll come back.”
Tears of relief came out of your eyes when you ran into her arms after your last recital. A summer went by of the boys playing hockey and you playing in the yard, watching with a frown wishing to be apart of that. Ellen came to you one day, sweat beading down your forehead in the heat but refusing to leave your brothers, Luke looking at you, with a flyer of a new cheer place opening in the town. She never imagined that’s what would be your thing, but it was. Cheer stuck with you throughout elementary school, even as you tried soccer with your best friend— you did that until the last year of middle school. Ultimately giving soccer up so you could focus on cheer in high school, and you were pretty damn good at it.
It was hard for the family though, hockey games between the three boys and practice’s with you that lasted hours, plus the games you performed at, then the big competitions. And it was really hard on you, when your brothers weren’t there in the stands, nor was your mom. It was usually your father when the family couldn’t be there, but his cheers were loud enough for them.
Your brother have always been protective, you knew that. In elementary school, Quinn and Jack both got in trouble for punching a boy at lunch because somebody yelled that he was your boyfriend.
“They punched him, mom! He was bleeding!” You cried in the back seat of the car, Quinn was sitting in the front with a glare as Luke sat between you and Jack with wide eyes after just witnessing you jump over to wack Jack in the head repeatedly.
Ellen sighed loudly from the driver seat, she looked in the mirror to see you— eyes blood shot red and a permanent frown on your face. She looked at Quinn quickly, his fist were still clenched in his lap as he looked out the window.
“Yeah, he deserves it.” Jack grumbled from his seat, Ellen was ready to pull over and yank you off of your brother but instead of throwing punches you yelled.. something that never really left the four of your guys mouth during arguments. The two Hughes parents had seen a lot of fights between the boys and you, arguing though… never happened often, just opting to use your fists, legs, and teeth sometimes.
A sob tore through your mouth, Luke was watching your carefully. A hand on your leg, trying to calm you down but nothing seemed to help.
“I hate you!”
Ellen gasped so loudly, she coughed. Quinn unclenched his fist in shock, Luke’s jaw dropped watching as you sucked in a deep shaky breath as your mom pulled into the driveway, you hiccuped through your sobs and yanked your leg away from Luke, he frowned. Jack’s lip parted and snapped his head towards the back of his mom’s seat.
She yelled your name, you sobbed louder trying to unbuckle yourself but couldn’t see through the tears, Luke noticed and put his hand between the two of you and pressed his finger down and unbuckled you. Not bothering to grab your book bag, you threw your door open and slid out with another sob and ran into the house.
That was the first time, more followed, especially when you grew older. Your mother worried when you grew into your beauty, how overprotective the boys came when you entered high school… then the first boyfriend— the break up was worse. You didn’t show up to school for a week.
They were all protective in their own ways, you loved them for it but sometimes truly hated it. Quinn was protective in a way with words, a threatening sentence towards somebody and they froze… wondering if it was true or he was giving out wordless threats. Jack was protective in a physical way, he always had been. Sometimes it scared you: the way he easily got himself into trouble for you.
Luke though was different, being your twin. He was a mix between the both of them but usually it was never with the other person— it was with you. While Quinn was glaring at the person and speaking lowly to them or Jack was throwing them against a wall or throwing punches, Luke was standing beside you, making sure you were okay, protecting your feelings.
So when hockey came around and more boys came into your life because of them, one night they all came into your room. Well, Jack and Quinn did— Luke was already lying on your bed, in his pajamas under your comforter as you sat at your desk trying to study. Key word, try. Luke barged into your room an hour before, freaking out about some girl from school.
The trying to study went out the window when the other two barged in and got comfortable by their brother, you tried to focus on the paper you had been staring at for the past ten minutes but their eyes were burning a hole into you.
“What?” You spat, slamming your pencil down and turning to look at them, Jack raised his eyebrows at you as Quinn shook his head. Luke was scrolling on his phone, you assumed he stopped being a pussy and was texting the girl.
Jack raised his shoulders, “Just wanted to come hang with our favorite sister, is that such a problem?”
“I’m your only sister… and you never wanna hang out with me.”
Quinn frowned for a second, Jack’s eyebrows raised at the sudden bluntness in your words. And Luke’s fingers paused on his screen, side eyeing you.
You stared at them, noticing their facial expressions. “Not like that! Just you guys are so busy with hockey—“
“You’re busy with cheer.” Jack cut you off, sitting up a bit. You saw the panic on his face, god, he was so dramatic sometimes.
“I know.” You gritted out, leaning back into your chair, “I’m just saying— it doesn’t matter—“
“Yes it does.” Quinn jumped in, you glanced at him. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Oh my god. Because I didn’t mean it like that! What do you want?” You sighed out, throwing your arms out in front of you. Quinn looked at his brothers quickly, you bit your inner lip watching as it seemed like they were communicating with their eyes— right in front of you.
You love them, so much. More than you could ever put into words but sometimes it felt like you were on the outside looking in, Luke always tried to include you but sometimes it was so hard. They spent so much time together, while you were out at practice for hours after they got home from theirs, them sitting on the back porch together. You were too tired to bother saying hi to them, going straight to the shower and then your bed. They had a different bond, as boys and brothers, and players— something you’d never be apart of.
They were your brothers but it was different.
Swallowing roughly as Jack nodded sharply to his older brother, you straightened in your seat. They all looked at you, eyes softening just a bit.
“We just wanted to say… you know, us joining teams and all soon— our hockey friends are… y’know…”
You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head with a shrug. “No, I don’t know. Use your words.”
Jack grabbed a pillow from behind him and chucked it at you, grunting quietly as you stopped it from smacking you in the head.
“You know… off limits.”
“Ew. I don’t want your hockey friends.”
That night, you and your brothers ended up in the kitchen arguing back and forth as your parents watched… attempting to soften it.
But you were right, you never batted an eye at them. Not when you walked in from practice and said hey to your brothers, nodding your head politely at their friends sitting in the living room, watching as you went into the kitchen where your mom stood in front of the stove cooking dinner, you grabbed a water and went up to your bathroom. Not when they attempted to flirt with you, ignoring your brother’s warnings to not do that.
Before you knew it, Quinn and Jack were in the NHL— something they’d always dreamed of. Quinn was in Vancouver, something that broke your heart.. him being so far away from home and his family. But nothing beat watching him score his friend goal of his NHL career, nor did it with watching Jack’s.
It was the year Luke got drafted, it was the year you parted away from your home, under the same roof as your twin brother and parents to leave to join California all stars. Of course, you came home for his draft! How could you not?
You could never miss the moment when the announcer said his name, Luke Hughes for the New Jersey Devils— the same one as Jack. How Jack practically leaped over you throwing himself around your brother with excitement, tears filled your eyes as you were squeezed between the three of them.
The four of you were all away from home and it was really hard sometimes, you guys were so close but couldn’t be more proud of each other. You texted the group chat every morning and night, especially when you knew you day would be busy, just to say something to them. It was harder with Luke, you and him had never been separated since your mom gave birth to the two of you, it took a long time where you or him didn’t burst into a tantrum when you were separated for more than a few hours… sleepovers rarely happened because by bed time you or him were running to your friends parents crying for each other.
Luke called every day, knowing your schedule after the first week of you and him being separated. You and him tried your best to talk as much as you did before but you weren’t used to him being so busy in the NHL and he wasn’t so used to you being miles away from him and different time zones. Plus, the training the two of you went through and barely had the energy to pick up your phone once you walked through your front door.
The first year was the hardest.
But eventually, you and your brothers were used to the difference. It didn’t make it any harder but it worked. They constantly bugged you about any boys, especially when one time some random boy answered your phone. Sitting in your living room. His face popped up on the group face time where your brothers stared at him in shock for a few moments.. questioning if they accidentally added somebody else but it was the siblings group chat.
It was a friend from cheer.
You honestly hadn’t truly dated somebody since high school, before the world only knew you as the Hughes sister. You attempted to go out on a date from somebody you met at the grocery store, seeing it as somewhat of a normal interaction. Not meeting them at an event or on social media. They didn’t recognize you as a Hughes or being related to the famous hockey brothers.
And then….
“I’m a huge fan of your brothers work.”
You were a bit dramatic about it, sighing loudly but nodded and apparently that gave him a signal to keep talking about them— he even asked if you could call them! The rest of the date until you cut him off as the waiter began approaching the table, quickly turning around when she heard the sharpness in your voice and stood up, walking away.
He yelled for the whole restaurant to hear about the check!
You rolled your eyes as you pulled open the doors with tears in your eyes, opting to call Luke but knew he would just run into Jack’s room so you kept your phone in your purse as you walked through the streets of California.
After that night, you declined anybody who asked to take you out. Just imagining yourself sitting in the middle of a restaurant of somebody asking something about them.
You never went on a date again after and never told your brothers. They pushed you that night when you never called after the date, you decline the first call as you laid in your bed, curled into yourself watching your comfort movie, tear stained cheeks. They immediately blew up your phone and told you to answer right now.
Sending a quick text and told them you were about to take a shower, which you did so you could look a little less crazy and the crying wasn’t noticeable. You made up some lie that all he did was talk about himself, your phone set on the counter of your bathroom as you lazily did your nighttime routine. And for some odd reason, they believed you when you lied to them. You never were a good liar and they always knew your twitch when you did lie, but apparently they couldn’t see when your face was in and out of the camera.
It was one night, your roommate who you cheered with wanted to go to a hockey game. She didn’t know anything about the game until she met you, sitting with you as you watched your brothers play and answered her questions or explained what was happening. She soon learned most of it and enjoyed for when she would hear your yell from the living room that the game was starting.
“There’s a game here! It’s like an hour away, we should go.”
That’s how you found yourself at a San Jose Sharks game, your brothers couldn’t believe you were going to be cheering another team on but you just rolled your eyes and told them the Canucks and Devils would always be the team you cheered for the most. It was a good game, your friend in her element as she could watch the game and actually understand… only a couple times did she lean over and ask you to explain something.
Then… you and her were at every Sharks game, as long as you were both free. She literally cancelled a date one night when she learned there was a game, you convinced her to just invite him and you would stay home.
“No way, girl. This is our thing.”
You ended up buying a third ticket the morning of the game and gave it to her, she kissed your cheek with a bright smile. You kind of regretted it when he arrived at the rink and the two were snuggled into each and you sat by yourself, arms crossed around your chest trying to warm yourself— usually, she was snuggled into your side, shivering about the coldness she was not used to. You guessed you’d just gotten used to her warmth.
After the game, you stood behind them as they talked, “I don’t wanna go home.” He smiled at her, intertwining their hands, you rolled your eyes as she said that for the hundredth time of the night.
Digging in your purse, you grabbed your car keys and chucked them at her back. She stopped and turned around sharply, squinting her eyes at you, looking down at your keys at her feet, she slowly picked them up with furrowed eyebrows.
“Take my car and go enjoy the rest of the night.” You smiled softly at her, her smile somehow grew larger.
The guy beside her furrowed his eyebrows, “What about you?”
“I’ll just call an uber.”
Which was the stupidest thing you could’ve offered, they left you quickly after that which was an hour ago. You were still sitting outside of the rink, of course no Ubers were available, they were all picking everybody else up from the arena. A pout formed on your lips when the first one cancelled, then when the second one did— tears formed in your eyes.
Sitting on the curb, curled into yourself as you leaned your chin against your knees watching as players drove out of the arena! You could’ve cried again but you didn’t, just watched as people walked by without blinking at you. You checked your friend’s location, you could tell she was still out with the boy so you kept the messages quiet.
You were watching as people cheered across the street, all dressed in Sharks gear. Smiling softly as somebody jumped onto another person’s back with a loud ‘whoop!’
Gravel crunched beside you, you snapped your head up and saw two boys staring down at you, they looked your age. You squinted your eyes at them as they blinked at you, like you were some animal that was standing in the middle of a road.
“Yes?” You questioned slowly, one of them straightened their back when you spoke.
“Are you okay?” The other asked, hands shoved into his pockets. Their hair was damp, they were dressed nice. You moved your head so the light wasn’t blocking their faces anymore and recognized them as two players on the Sharks.
Will Smith and Macklin Celebrini.
“Oh, yeah. I’m just waiting for the Ubers to start picking people up again.” You shrugged with a tight smile, Macklin nodded softly as Will ran his hand through his damp hair, the light shining on the side of his face, he looked like an angel… you clamped your parted lips shut as you stared at him.
Macklin stepped beside the other boy, “Do you need a ride? Ubers usually take a long time to start getting people after a game.”
You sighed and looked down at your phone, you were usually in bed by now and your phone was at ten percent.
“I don’t live around here and I can’t ask for you to drive an hour after playing a hockey game.” You said softly, looking up at them again. They both shrugged, Will jerked his head and offered his hand.
“We don’t mind, c’mon.” You looked at his outstretched hand carefully before taking it with your soft hands, he squeezed yours before pulling you up, you squeezed his back before slowly pulling away. Smiling as you looked between them as they watched you tug your jacket closer to you,
“Uh, you guys have a car right?” You asked after a few moments of you three standing there, Macklin’s eyebrows shot up before he nodded.
You thought that would be the first and last time you ever saw the two, besides at the games. But that night, when Will walked you to your door, you did your nighttime routine scrolling through his social media. Something you’d never done. And it was noticeable, when your finger accidentally double tapped a picture from too long ago. You screamed as your tooth brush stopped it’s movement in your mouth as you quickly took the like back and spit your toothpaste out, running int your roommates room, ignoring the guy sitting on her bean bag.
The next morning, as you scrolled through your notifications on your balcony, a smile graced your face. He followed you.
That was just the beginning, soon after a couple dms back and forth… Will seeked you out after the game with no Macklin by his side which surprised you.
“Wanna go get some celebratory food?” He asked softly, with that boyish grin that made your stomach flip. Your friend squealed from the other side of the car, you and Will laughed at her as she muttered an apology.
You leaned closer to him, tugging on the bottom of his jacket. “I’d love too… but I do have a friend that needs a ride home.”
“She can drive, I’ll take you home.” Will shot back with a smirk, you shook your head biting back a smile and called out your friends name who rounded the car with a wide smile, Will stepped back as you threw you keys at her.
“Have fun!” She sung with a giggle, watching as the two of you walked away, fingers brushing against each other before he flexed his hand and grabbed onto yours, she squealed again before shutting your door and driving off as Will lead you to his car.
It was sudden, the change between you and him. Before, you knew it was never about being just friends but there was also no rush to be anything more. It had been a few months since the first time you and Will went out, now he was coming over and spending the nights accidentally, the two of you falling asleep watching a movie or staying up late trying to finish putting together the legos you and him bought that day when he went shopping with you, sleep was written all over his face and you told him he could stay.
Macklin came over a lot, you and him became really close too. Your roommate got along with both of them, the four of you playing uno after dinner that you and Will made in your kitchen earlier. You soon realized how competitive Mack was, almost as competitive as your friend. You and Will would watch the two of the bicker about the cards they just put down, you just leaned into Will’s touch and waited for them to finish— sometimes you and him would have to intervene.
You met the rest of the team at a barbecue he invited you to, that was the night he took you to his home and kissed you.
You felt bad. Not telling your family about him but god you loved having him without anyone knowing, but now Mack and your friend knew… and the whole Sharks team. Now you just felt like the worst sister ever. But not even did your parents know, until your mom walked into your apartment with your dad shuffling in behind her tiredly, it was supposed to be a surprise, you had a cheer event coming up and they wanted to be there.
Your father jumped when your mother screamed, you jumped up in your bed hearing the yell.
Will stood shirtless, only in his pajama pants, in your kitchen in front of your stove as he attempted to make the two of you breakfast. You threw off the comforter, running out into the living to see your parents standing in the entryway in shock as Will stared back at the.
Your mom turned towards you when you gasped, standing in his t-shirt and your pajama shorts.
“Oh my God.” You heard your friend say, assuming she came out because of the murder like scream from your mom.
The breakfast was awkward. You ended up ordering from somewhere so Will didn’t have to make more food for everybody, he attempted to leave but your mother forced him to sit at the table. It was halfway through the silent eating, the only sound being your friend’s loud gulps of her drinking. You and her kept glancing at each other every few minutes, your dad was staring at Will as he sat beside you.
“So…”
Your mom broke the silence, “How’d you two meet?”
You and Will smiled softly, turning towards each other and that’s when your parents softened up. Especially, when your whole body softened up when you looked at the boy beside you, of course they already knew who he was before that day but after that morning, they knew him personally and loved him. They were happy it was him.
You made your parents promise not to tell your brothers, they understood but told you to tell them soon… You wanted to, but you didn’t even know how to bring it up anymore— you and Will had been together for a while. Neither of you had posted anything about each other, obsessed with having nobody having their eyes on you as a couple. Nobody had seen you guys together when you went out, luckily. But you knew your luck would run out soon.
Now the hockey season was over and the family immediately made the plans to go to the lake house.
You were standing in the kitchen beside your mom cutting up vegetables for dinner, music was playing softly throughout the house as the boys sat at the table playing a card game. You and your mom would laugh when one of them would groan loudly. It was a perfect day, everyone went out on the boat together, the five of you stayed out there almost all day.. eventually you took your parents back but you and your brothers went back out. Once you came back, your mom was starting to prep for dinner, you and your brothers took showers before joining your parents in the kitchen area.
It was perfect.
Until Luke opened his mouth, “Who’s pretty boy?“
You stopped your movements, everyone paused for a moment to look at him confused. Glancing over your shoulder, Luke’s hand was wrapped around your phone, bringing the phone closer to his face.
You slammed the knife down on the cutting board and darted towards him, snatching the phone from his hands. Now everybody was watching, cards down on the table and Ellen stepped to stand behind you.
“Y’know, Luke it was cute when we were 12 and you snooped through my shit but it’s not anymore.” You gritted out, gripping onto your phone by your side.
“Language!” Both your parents sighed out, eyes snapping between their twins, Luke’s jaw dropped at your words and the scowl on your face. Jack and Quinn looked between the two of you with caution, wondering what the hell was going on. They both just assumed it was some twin fight.
Luke looked over your shoulder, your mom shrugged. “Luke, you know it’s not nice to go through your sisters phone.” She said softly, putting her hand on your elbow and pulled you back, closer to her. She practically felt the anger coming off of you, Luke’s eyebrows furrowed.
“But who’s pretty boy? He said ‘I love you’!” Luke exclaimed, you felt both of your parents look at you with soft eyes.
This is not how you wanted your brothers to find out.
Jack shot up in his seat, bee lining for your phone in your hand. He reached over your body, not expecting a hand to his face and pushing him into the table. Ellen gasped from behind you, gritting out your name.
“No, mom. I’m tired of them thinking they have to know everything!” You cried out, she softly rubbed the back of your arm with a knowing look, the three brothers froze at your words.
Jack grunted as he fell back into his seat, “So there is something to know?” Quinn kicked him under the table when you rubbed your forehead in annoyance, he was always the one to soften to argument or fight between the four of you.. not always, mostly. Only when the four of you were older, when you were kids it was all of you throwing punches and legs.
“No.”
“Yes.”
You snapped your head to your mom, “Mom!”
She gave you a look.
“Oh my god.” You muttered and sat down as she ushered you towards the chair at the head of the able, across from your father and between Jack and Luke. She looked back at the kitchen before taking a spot beside her husband who reached out and grabbed her hand.
You put your phone under your thigh, ignoring the buzz against your leg. Your brothers stared at you, Luke had hurt in his eyes knowing there was something hidden between the two of you. You couldn’t even act like there ever had been, you kept plenty of secrets between your brothers— never Luke though.
Quinn waited patiently, watching you carefully as you picked at your nails. Jack wasn’t looking at you.
“I have a boyfriend…”
Chaos erupted around the table, you dropped your head into your hands with sigh as their voice overlapped with each other and your parents voiced trying to calm the boys down.
“Who is it?” Jack turned towards you, seemingly remembering what this was about. “Who’s pretty boy?” He mocked, lowering his voice and you wanted to smack him. You almost did but your mom said you name softly, she warned how no matter what or who.. this would be the outcome of keeping this from them. Now it was time to find out how they would react about who.
You bit your bottom lip, “Will Smith.”
“Will Smith?! Men and black Will Smith?!” Jack yelled, sitting up, almost out of his chair. You slowly looked at him with a confused face. “He’s like fifty! This is illegal! Oh my god!”
You kicked his leg, “Ow!”
“Will Smith? San Jose Sharks?” You spelt it out for him, gesturing with your hands, the room went silent. Deadly silent. You couldn’t even bother to look at any of them, the dramatics of them having betrayal written across their face. You stared at the scratch on the table from the first summer at the house.
Then chaos erupted around the table, Quinn and Jack snapped their heads towards each other— eyebrows flying up so fast you bit back a chuckle, Luke’s eyes were on you though.. eyebrows raised and parted lips.
“This is absurd!” Jack yelled turning towards you finally remembering who this was about. “Since when?” His voice softened a little, eyebrows pinched together like it was all coming to him, why his little brother was much quieter.
You swallowed glancing between all of them, “A while.”
It went oddly quiet. A quiet you’ve never been used to, not with them or your home in California. You and your roommate were loud together, and growing up it was always chaos. You heard Luke swallow roughly as he clenched his fist in front of him as he looked away from your face, Quinn just stared blankly at you.
Jack broke the silence with a scoff, “You know how hockey guys are?”
You laughed bitterly, “What? Just because you three hoe around doesn’t mean he does.”
Your parents yelled your name, you rolled your eyes as your brothers looked at you with shock.
“He’s nice to me and we love each other.” You fought even though they had pretty much been silent, “I’m sorry for not telling you but this is exactly why.”
“You know we’d support you about anything… even if it was a hockey player— you know that was just a joke.”
“Bullshit.”
Ellen gritted your name out, Jim giving up on correcting you a long time ago.
“Listen, when we told you that.. yes we were being for real but not actually! Not so for real that you can’t come to us for months.” Jack said, leaning forward with a brotherly look but also anger.
Luke stayed silent.
You swallowed, “Luke?”
“I don’t— I can’t believe you kept something from me for this long.”
The room went silent again, everyone’s eyes on Luke as he looked at you. You swallowed roughly, your throat tightening. “I’m sorry.”
There was nothing else you could say, your brothers said nothing either. What else could they say? The family separated, well more of you leaving the table to go to your room and call Will while your family still sat at the table, as soon as your door shut you heard the hushed voices of your brothers and your parents trying to calm them down.
It was another hour until you appeared from the stairs, your brothers gone onto the back porch while your parents continued the paused dinner. Ellen looked up from the stove at the sound of your soft footsteps, smiling softly she gestured for you to go outside.
Holding back an eye roll you walked towards the back door and opened it gaining the attention of your older brothers, stopping their conversation. You felt small under their gaze, hand still on the handle like you might run back into the house. Quinn noticed and scooted to the side on the small couch on the porch and jerked his head, you smiled softly and sat beside him, the oldest dropped his hand onto your shoulder and squeezed it.
“So,” Jack quickly said, smacking his hand onto his thigh and looked at you with a look you’ve seen one too many times. “When do we get to meet him?” He tapped his fingers against the table, they all looked towards you, waiting.
You messed with the strings of your devils hoodie, “I don’t know, didn’t really plan on seeing him until I went back to California.”
“You can invite him to the house, Sissy.”
It was a nickname they’d call you when you were younger, it kind of drifted when you grew up, it lingered with your parents but they’d call you anything but that— unless they were feeling nice.
“I don’t know… he probably has a bunch of plans.”
“Well, ask him anyway. Just for a weekend or something.”
Two weeks later, Will was flying into Michigan and you had never been more nervous as he texted you he landed, you were sitting in the pick up line, constantly messing with something in your car or looking at yourself in the mirror or camera on your phone. You were currently looking in your console, it was messy and you cringed but couldn’t think of that when a soft knock interrupted your thoughts.
You flinched, snapping your head up and Will stood at your window with a large smile on his face— you smiled widely back. He glanced down at the handle and your eyebrows raised as you blindly reached for the handle to unlock the door.
Will slid into the seat smoothly, tossing his duffel bag into the back seat while also leaning over the middle console to pull you closer and you melted into his touch, awkwardly pulling him into a hug but it fit. He kissed your hair, than your neck, and pulled away, hand on your neck and pressed his lips against yours.
You made a small noise of relief in the back of your throat, he smiled on your lips. “Missed you so much, baby.”
You kissed him one more time before you fell back into your seat and turned your car back on, he buckled into his seat and immediately reached for your hand, your intertwined hands rested on the console the whole ride— music playing from your phone connected to the Bluetooth.
Will and you caught up on the past two busy weeks, he was spending time with family and so were you, plus a lot of the boys friends were in town like usual— luckily only Trevor and Cole were around for the weekend Will would be. You could deal with them.
You’d known the two as much as you know you’re brothers, they treated you like a sister and they were just more brothers.
“You nervous?” You asked, pulling into the familiar area of your Michigan home, glancing towards him.
Will shook his head, only humming in response. “You’re squeezing my hand pretty hard.”
He immediately loosed his grip, you chuckled bringing your joined hands to your lips and kissed them softly, Will responded by rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand, you kept his hand rested against your lips, Will felt his shoulders relax even as you pulled into a neighborhood and he knew it was yours.
“I think I’m gonna pass out.”
You shook your head, suppressing a smile as you drove down your street seeing the large house your brothers bought together all those years ago.
“It’s gonna be fine, they’ll barely talk to us.”
Will shook his head, leaning back into his seat with tense muscles. “No, like seriously, why am I doing this?”
“Because you love me?”
“Yes, very much. But—“
You pulled into the driveway, “Listen, they seriously—“
“Baby, I’m not scared of them.”
You stopped, “Then… what is it?”
“No, I am terrified of them actually… but like I’ve— I’ve played against them and looked up to them— fuck, not like— I don’t want you to think I’m dating you for them— I swear…. Oh my god. Take me back to the airport— I—“ Will rambled, you covered your mouth trying to hide your smile and he thought you were crying.
“Oh my god— oh my god. Baby, I’m—“
A laugh cut through his panicking, he stopped. “Will, you have to chill or they will make fun of you and they’re sitting on the front porch, you assumed they’d been waiting since you left after they begged to come with.
He actually slid down into the seat, you laughed loudly. “I’m making fun of you. Will, get up.” You grabbed his shoulder, he groaned as he straightened. “C’mon, scaredy cat.”
“Don’t call me that.” He grunted as you both opened the door, he reached bag and pulled his bag from the backseat.
Your three brothers just sat on the porch, watching as you and Will walked up the steps, his hand intertwined with yours— they didn’t feel or sense the death grip he had on you. Smiling softly, you tugged him to your side as he attempted to stand behind you.
You knew it wasn’t because he was nervous, that’s where he always stood with you. Pressed against behind you and arms wrapped around you, sometimes around your waist but usually wrapped around your shoulders and your hands held onto his wrists, every few minutes pressing your lips to his forearms.
“Brothers.”
“Sister.”
You chuckled, “You guys all know each other…. So I don’t need to do introductions.”
They all said their hello’s, you squeezed Will’s hand three times and he quickly mimicked. “So, I’m gonna show him the room and then we’ll do dinner?”
“Okay, we’re grilling.” Jack said, tipping his beer to the two of you as you stepped back with a wide smile. The three of them couldn’t deny the way their chests warmed at the sight.
But Quinn paused as your hand went on the door handle and turned, “Wait…” And you did, hand frozen against the handle and both of you slowly looked at your oldest brother. “What’s his room?”
“Mine?” You stated but it sounded more like a question, all of their eyebrows shot up and their backs straightened.
“Your room?” Luke choked out.
You rolled your eyes and opened the door, “Ugh, yes! Its only for a weekend and he always sleeps in my bed back in California—“
“We don’t need to know that.” Quinn cut you off, eyes squeezed like he was trying to forget that. “Just… no foolishness.”
You laughed, “Yes, dad.”
After showing Will your room and laying down for a few minutes, body on top of his to calm him down, the two of you stepped out onto the back porch where all the boys were, and your parents sat on the couch together, listening to something Trevor was saying.
But they all stopped when you shut the sliding glass door, Will immediately grabbed onto your hand. “Hey.”
Trevor and Cole lit up at the sight of you, Cole reached out and pulled you onto the couch next to him, your hand yanked away from Will’s, he could’ve sworn his heart was about to stop as he made eye contact with all three of your brothers and you fell into a conversation with Cole.
“C’mon.” Jack clapped a hand against the younger boy’s shoulder, Will joined them by the grill, hands in his pockets awkwardly and shy. Will could admit he’d never been shy or this awkward before, not even when he met your pants— and that was awkward.
But after they talked for just a few minutes, Will’s hands were out of his pockets and his laughter was his usual one that you loved, a small smile gracing your face even though your back was faced towards him— Trevor and Cole needing your full attention like usual.
By the time dinner was finished, Will was back by your side at the table, his focus was on something Trevor was saying from across the table, hands thrown around in the air as all the boys pitched stuff into the conversation— something about hockey, that’s all you knew before you drew yourself out of the conversation, turning to your parents. But Will’s hand rested on your thigh, your hand on top of his, he occasionally squeezed.
Soon, your mom yawned and your dad took her to bed, leaving you and the boys, you leaned back into your seat and brought your leg up.
“So…”
Cole said, leaning forward to see you, you rested your head against your hand, just observing their conversation until he did that and now everyone was looking at you.
“What?”
“How’d you two meet?” He asked, a smirk on his face, the question gained a lot of commotion, Trevor giggled. Your brothers leaned back into their seats, eyes on the two of you.
“Uh—“
“Well—“
Will smiled, “Go ahead.”
And you simply told them, how he found you on the side of the street, curled into yourself like a homeless person. Trevor laughed as he imagined the sight, you kicked him from beneath the table, and how he found you after every game until one time he finally asked you out.
“Still can’t believe you kept it from us for so long.”
You swallowed, Will squeezed your thigh. “Yeah, well it was easier being so far away.”
Jack smiled, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.
“Well, we like you, Smith.”
Will chuckled, “Thanks.”
The weekend with Will went smooth, a day spent on the water, skin burnt and limbs tired as everyone walked back into the house. You and Will fell asleep on the couch together, his head pressed against your stomach and arm draped across your waist, Quinn found you two when he went to find y’all for dinner, he smiled softly before waking you up. The next day, it was calm, games played throughout the day, movie night before you brought Will up to your room as the boys went out on the lake for a late night swim. You were glad they left, you felt wrong doing anything with them in the house— too scared they would walk in.
But Will couldn’t leave without feeling himself inside of you.
The next day, you went on the lake for a short time and spent the day in the yard with your brothers and Will, they welcomed him the open arms… by the time he left— there were inside jokes between the boys and numbers exchanged.
You were glad you had those times they didn’t know but you were more than happy they knew now and Will was apart of your family.
whether it was his own apartment, a friend’s place, or his family home, the left corner of the couch belonged to fraser. he told you it was just a reflex, something automatic, to gravitate toward that side when you asked him why that spot specifically. and while that was true, there was more to it. he always sat on the left side in cars, or slept on the left when he and his brother had to share a bed. as silly as it might sound, the left side just reminded him of home and childhood.
of course, when people who didn’t know him well took his sacred little spot, he didn’t get angry. but the second connor, mason, or one of his cousins even dared to look in that direction, fraser would shoo them away or drag them off the couch by their feet.
that’s why during summer, when you were over at his parents’ house with nearly the whole family present and everyone mingling, people exchanged looks when you took fraser’s spot, some silently considering whether they should tell you to move. but then something no one expected happened: fraser simply walked over with the softest smile, the one reserved just for you, so different from all his others. he sat down next to you, kissed your temple, and rested his head on your shoulder.
“you know, i was wondering,” you said one night, looking at fraser in the mirror as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed.
“hmm?” his blue eyes met yours in the reflection, the corners of his mouth still messy with toothpaste.
“why do you let me sit on your side of the couch? you nearly threw connor over your shoulder the other day, but you never make me move.”
fraser stopped mid-motion, set his toothbrush aside, and rinsed his mouth. you could see the tips of his ears turn red as he patted his face dry with a towel. he reached for his glasses and cleared his throat nervously.
“i guess… i guess it’s comforting, in a sense,” he said. “that sounds so stupid.”
you wrapped your arm around his waist, and with your mouth still full of toothpaste, you mumbled, “not at all, baby.”
fraser cracked a smile and shook his head slightly. “it’s the same as you wearing my jersey. or when you text me goodnight on road trips. or when you grab my hand in crowds. seeing you sit in my spot just makes me feel like i’m truly at home.”
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑
connor means business when it comes to food – you do not touch what’s his. he’s reluctant to share even a bite of his order, always bawling internally when handing over a portion for someone else to taste. when he was younger, connor used to throw tantrums if anyone touched something he had left for later in the fridge, and would give his cousins and friends the silent treatment, stubbornly ignoring them for the rest of the day (until someone bribed him with extra food).
years later, at nearly 21 years old, he still acts like a grumpy little kid whenever someone messes with his food.
enter you, who can get his whole meal without even having to ask. sometimes you joke that he’s acting like a mom of five, but connor just shakes his head and insists you need to eat to stay healthy and strong. that makes perfect sense – but what doesn’t is how anyone else is met with a threat of murder for taking one of connor’s fries, while you get a whole burger handed over without a single complaint.
fraser took advantage of connor being distracted by a couple of kids at the table next to yours and reached for a nugget from his plate. “so did you– ouch,” he exclaimed, looking at the red patch forming on his skin where your boyfriend had just slapped his hand away. “what now?” humour laced his voice as he noticed connor’s unamused stare. “it’s just a piece of chicken, man. you just drank half my coke.”
“yeah, but that’s different,” connor muttered, glancing between the nuggets and his friend, ready to defend them if fraser tried to steal another one.
“oh yeah? how so?”
your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and you could help the giggle to escape your lips.
“oh my god, why do you always have to ask so many questions?” he groaned, throwing his head back. “i don’t know. it just is,” he said, but reluctantly put one of the nuggets on fraser’s plate. “just eat it before i change my mind.”
“your boyfriend is a child.”
“tell me about it,” you replied, nudging connor with your elbow and reached for his fries, dipping them in ketchup. “have to live with it almost 24/7.”
“here, just have them all,” connor said, letting the teasing go over his head as he slid the plate toward you, a small, content smile settling on his face.
“you’re impossible,” fraser breathed, shaking his head. “you nearly decapitated me over one nugget, and she gets a whole plate?”
connor simply shrugged. in his mind, it made perfect sense – and that was the end of the discussion.
𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘
sidney has always been a bit… particular about his personal belongings. it wasn’t that he got angry or frustrated when people moved his sticks, spilled coffee on that one navy suit jacket he’d been planning to wear for the game the next night, or commented on his shoulder pads that had somehow survived what felt like the ten plagues of egypt. okay, maybe sometimes he did. but more than anger, what he really felt was discomfort – that quiet, uneasy shift inside him, like something had been slightly knocked out of place and his thoughts couldn’t help but circle it.
some days he handled it better. on others, even the smallest change could feel like too much, building into something he couldn’t easily ignore.
that was why everyone around him had learned to be careful with sid’s things, careful not to disturb the order that made everything feel just a little more manageable for him.
but if there was one person who could rearrange his ties in the closet, move the vase in the living room to a different spot, or tease him about his ancient gear, it was you.
and if sid ever tried to explain why that tight, anxious feeling softened when it was you, he wouldn’t have the right words at first. eventually, he’d probably say it was because you made everything feel safe. familiar. like nothing could truly be wrong if it was you. your trust, your warmth, your understanding – they didn’t erase the feeling completely, but they quieted it, like a hand gently smoothing out the edges of his thoughts.
and whenever any of the boys were at your place and you happened to be cleaning or ironing his suits, they never dared to joke about it or tease sid about how you could do it, but they couldn’t. instead, they would just exchange quiet, knowing smiles in your direction – the kind that didn’t need words. it wasn’t something they questioned. it just… was. the way you looked after him fit so naturally into the rhythm of his life that it almost felt like it had always been there.
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋
will is a certified blanket hogger. his cousins hated his ass when he came over for sleepovers, and their mum made them sleep in one bed. he’d leave them cold and shivering, wrapped in a cocoon from head to toe, only his blond curls would stick out (which also happened to be a perfect target for them to pull to wake him up).
and while will doesn’t consider himself to be a selfish person in the slightest, when it comes to duvets, blankets or whatever else he uses as a cover during sleep, it’s his and only his. there is no point in trying to steal it even after he falls asleep – he’ll wake up just enough to yank it back and, in the process, probably leave you with a bruise from blindly searching for the edge.
so imagine his cousins’ outrage when, during one of your trips back to his home, they found you asleep on the couch, actually covered. and he was right there next to you, the blanket barely draped over him.
“i’m going to strangle him.”
“this little fucker.”
“are we sure it’s him.”
they truly couldn’t believe their eyes, because how could this be the same person who had terrorised them just a few years back. at the same time, they couldn’t deny how adorable you two looked, especially with how pathetically in love will looked, even while napping.
it was one of the first things you noticed when you started dating him – how gentle he became in small, quiet ways. the way he’d tuck you in before leaving for practice in the morning, careful not to wake you. how he’d drape a blanket over you when you fell asleep on his shoulder during movie nights. how, even half-asleep, he’d adjust it around you, making sure you were warm.
when he sleeps beside you, he’s still a blanket hogger. just not for himself.
𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍
mack is rather… strict about the music he listens to in the car. especially in the morning. after games. after losing games. before dinner. when he’s stuck in traffic. ideally, he wouldn’t listen to music at all – but since he’s usually getting rides from other people, he has no choice but to submit to the torture that is someone’s shitty taste in music. and most of the time, it’s not even about the music itself. mack just gets overstimulated by the sound. he’s surrounded by noise almost 24/7, rarely getting the chance to just sit in silence, so music, in general, is a sore subject for him.
will, who’s been permanently banned from touching the AUX, is the most unhappy about this arrangement. you’d think he’d get special treatment, but whenever he even tries to go near it, mack threatens to leave him in the middle of the road. bribing you doesn’t work either.
you’re the only one who can play whatever you want without him getting irritated. rock, taylor swift, EDM, k-pop, jazz – whatever your heart desires. he’ll just nod along, drumming his fingers against the wheel from time to time.
“dude, we’ve been listening to this girly shit for like an hour now,” will groaned from the backseat, throwing his head against the headrest. too bad he lost rock-paper-scissors for the passenger seat, though mack would’ve made him sit in the back anyway. maybe then he would’ve had a chance to put something else on.
“oh my god, stop whining.”
your boyfriend looked like he was five seconds away from murdering his best friend, who just wouldn’t shut up. both of their hair was still messy from the shower, their suits wrinkled by now, but mack looked like he’d just come out of the trenches.
“then let me put something else on.”
“no.”
mack didn’t even glance at him as he turned the volume up, earning a quiet giggle from you, and another dramatic groan from will.
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌
wille is sunshine personified – a smile never leaves his face. he’s kind and patient, and you swear his laugh could make even the biggest grump crack. he’s great, although a little shy with new people, always making polite small talk and going out of his way to compliment them. he’s the type of guy your mum and grandma would instantly fall in love with, and your dad would already be figuring out how to get him over for the next barbecue.
however, beware.
your sweet, golden-retriever boyfriend has one very specific trigger: his swedish candy. he does not play about that shit. first of all, he has a special place in his apartment to store it, as if it were the crown jewels. you used to joke that he should install laser beams around the drawer in case anyone tried to steal from it.
wille didn’t find that funny. because, again – this is serious business.
whenever you have someone over and he forgets to hide it, and they ask if they can have some, you have to suppress the laughter bubbling up at your boyfriend’s miserable expression. still, asking is one thing, at least he’s prepared. but when mack, will, and misa pulled a prank on him and somehow managed to steal the entire drawer, he almost saw the gates of heaven.
obviously, you’re the exception. even better – he always gets extra smiley when he sees you eating it. there’s just something about watching you enjoy something that’s so dear to him. like you’re indulging in the real him – the wille eklund part, not just the san jose hockey player.
the fact that you want to try food and sweets from his country? it makes him melt every time.
so if there’s one person who can get away with stealing his precious candy, it’s you – and only you.
