#wills work

[minten02]

wip…

[minten02]

wip wednesday… ft bedmint halloween fic starring vampdard and mintwolf

Fraser had definitely grown his facial hair out. It was much longer than Connor had ever seen it. He wondered what it would feel like to rub his nose against it and just breathe in. Fraser would let him. He knew he would. He'd probably whisper all sweet in Connor’s ear to tell him how good he was doing and how he was such a good boy for him.

Those were inside thoughts, though. All he could do now was smile at his friend and act like he wasn’t actively thinking of jerking him off and digging his faux fangs into his neck.

“Mints! You actually showed up, and you took my advice. You look scruffy, it’s nice.”

Fraser smiled at him, clearly a little self-conscious about his new look. He was never too keen on growing it out to this length, Connor knew that.

“Oh, thanks, Bedsy. Just for you,” he smiled softly, nudging his side before dragging him off to grab a drink.

Just for me.

[minten02]

— Treacherous

pairing: connor bedard/fraser minten (minor willmack)

summary: fraser minten falls for someone he definitely shouldn't be falling for

tags/warnings: college/uni au, getting together, rivals w benefits, rivals to lovers, forbidden love, hook ups, angst w a happy ending, bc/bu rivalry, autistic fraser minten, connor bedard is a bit of an asshole, connor plays for bc, fraser pays for bu

current wc/chapters: 14k words, 5/18 chapters

[minten02]

Will Smith is nothing if not a petty man.

He tries to keep it to a minimum—he really does—but sometimes it’s just too tempting for him to swallow down like a pill. If people wanted to be a dick to him, he would be a dick back, even if it was someone he loved.

When Will suggested a Fourth of July weekend trip down to the Cape with Mack a day after Mack’s birthday, he lost it. Or, that’s how Will took it. Mack had sighed and raised his voice a decibel higher than Will was able to associate with casual conversation and started talking about needing to be the fastest one out there on the ice next season.

Yeah, that was fair.

Didn’t they all want that?

But Mack was already a cut above the rest. He’d spent his birthday pushing himself just to prepare for September. Surely he could take two days off. The camp didn’t even run over the weekend!

Which is how Will got here. Sitting with his back pressed to a wall in his childhood bedroom in Boston ignoring Mack’s calls while he overthinks every possible reason Mack could be ‘avoiding’ him. Is it even his business? They’re barely even dating, and the label is still fresh enough to give him butterflies at the sight of Mack’s gummy smile.

Whatever. If he needs Will’s attention now, he can wait until Will wants to give it to him on his own terms, in his own time.

-

An hour and three missed calls later, Will’s phone dings.

mack 🦈🇨🇦

📹 Sent a video

Great, what now? Is the bastard showing off his amazing life surrounded by the best players in the league in some bar in downtown Vancouver with girls clinging to their sides like magnets? Not that that would really be an issue; Mack couldn’t show genuine interest in girls even if his life was on the line.

Maybe Connor is wasted like the last time they all hung out post-season in Boston. He was fucking slammed that time, stumbling into walls and wheezing into Will’s ear so loud he had to fight the urge to rip it off.

Setting his shamefully warm can of Bud Light on the carpet beside him, Will opens the video, expecting to see another drunken jersey incident staring back at him.

That couldn’t be further from reality.

It’s hard to make out at first until the camera focuses.

Mack is lying on his back on navy sheets, his face barely in frame. His eyebrows are furrowed together the same way they are when Will is fucking him with all his might after a bad game. His cheeks are just as rosy, too, if not more. The warm light from what Will assumes is the bedside lamp makes him look angelic, and he feels a little queasy that he isn’t there to run his fingers through Mack’s soft hair.

It isn’t until seconds later that Will processes exactly what he’s hearing.

Are those— Mack’s moans? And… slapping? What the fuck is happening? Who the fuck is groaning in the background? Is he getting sucked off right now?

That’s fine. Kinda. They agreed to take this whole dating thing slow. Maybe this is what Mack thinks of as slow?

Then the camera flips around.

Will can barely breathe.

Mack’s legs are spread. Like, as far as they’ll go.

A strong pair of hands grips them hard enough to turn the tips of their fingers white. The hands are veiny, too, veiner than Will’s even after a trip to the gym.

The arms are just as built as the rest of the body, thick biceps flexing in time with the slapping of skin-on-skin that Will now realises is probably balls-against-ass. The camera then slips from Mack’s grip slightly, tilting up towards the old, stained ceiling and consequently the other’s face.

No way.

Connor stands at the end of the bed with a face drenched in sweat and nearly as pink as Mack’s. His mouth is ever so slightly agape before his tongue darts out to lick his lips, drenching them in saliva. Connor’s eyes move from where he’s drilling into Mack’s tight hole to just behind the camera, presumably Mack’s face. He stares for a second before leaning forward and past the iPhone, a wet kiss leaking through the speakers as Mack whimpers.

The kiss lasts for a few seconds before Connor pulls away, murmuring under his breath, his voice getting trapped between their lips.

“Gonna send this to your pretty boyfriend? Bet you wish he was here, Celly, he’s massive, isn’t he? Does he even know about this?”

Will feels a little dizzy from how hard he suddenly is. Would getting a hand around his dick right now be wrong? Probably, but duty calls.

He reaches into his boxers as quickly as possible, shoving them down his hips just enough to get a hand around himself properly, a groan slipping out. He should not be this turned on by his boyfriend being railed by another man without his permission or knowledge.

Looking back to the phone, Will hears Connor press another kiss to Mack’s face a moment before he re-enters the frame, pushing his face into his knee while he fucks into him. The only thing Will can think to do is trace his eyes over Mack’s form and down to his pretty little dick that should be slapping against his stomach with the force Connor is fucking him with.

The only issue is, he can’t see it.

Filling the absence is a head of wavy brunette hair shifting up and down slowly with a hand splayed across Mack’s soft stomach, pressing down ever so slightly. The head shifts to look towards Mack, blue, teary eyes suddenly pointed almost directly into the camera.

“Give him a show, Frase,” Connor says as he nips at Mack’s thigh, red marks already forming.

Oh.

Oh.

That’s hot.

Will’s grip on his dick tightens as he watches Fraser’s head bob up and down in the video, following Connor’s orders without a second thought, just like Mack does for Will.

“Connor— ah— fuck, right there.”

“Say his name. Say it like he’s here.”

“Will, need it, please, baby. Give it to me harder— shit— that’s so good, Mints, holy fuck.”

Fraser pulls away for a moment, a long string of saliva connecting Mack’s tip to his lips before he moves to kiss up his twitchy shaft. Mack isn’t the biggest guy out there. He’s small enough for Will to take comfortably whenever he sucks him off; small enough to fit in his fist.

Mack’s whimpers get louder as Fraser licks around his tip, pressing a kiss to it before he takes it in his mouth again, now digging his fingernails into the chub of Mack’s stomach. They’re longer than Will’s. They’ll probably leave a mark for a longer duration, too.

Then, the video ends.

Will is now a bit too aware of how he’s thrusting up into his fist like he’s a sexually repressed teenager again, chasing his orgasm as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Tears prick at his eyes gently enough to make themselves known without the floodgates being released just yet. He wishes Mack were there with him. He should be the one fucking into him and sucking him off, being all sweet and caring afterward. Not Connor and Fraser. What did they know about his boy? Jack shit, that’s for sure.

As much as he hates the jealous feeling bubbling up in his gut, he feels too fucking good to stop. Too drunk on the feeling to worry about how awkward it will be when he sees Connor or Fraser or even Mack again, and far too drunk on the feeling to care about how he’s being a sissy and sobbing from the pleasure of it all. He’ll tell himself it’s because Mack went off with some other guys and not because he’s so incredibly turned on by it all.

Will is shaking and crying before he knows it, weak spurts of cum spilling onto his chest and fist while he rides out his high, using the last of his mental capacity to glance back over at the thumbnail of Mack’s face.

There’s a new message.

mack 🦈🇨🇦

havw fun??)

yoi were ignoring mw. had to tkse mattwers in yo my hown handas

You

ur a fuckinh asholw mack. i’m coming to van

go read on ao3 pls ily all

[minten02]

— Graceland Too

pairing: fraser minten/will smith

summary: will has depression, fraser makes it better

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, depression, domestic fluff, implied/referenced sh, religious guilt

wc: 1,391

Will Smith met Fraser Minten exactly two years, nine months, and 28 days ago.

Summer came harsh and hot that year. Being a freshly drafted San Jose Sharks forward only fuelled the steaming flames seeping into Will’s back; the ones that cried out that he wasn’t worth even attending the draft.

It had been like this for as long as he could remember, mainly in the form of disingenuous grins he gave out as generously as possible when congratulated on the many awards gracing the fridge door of his family home. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful; it was quite the opposite.

Will stared at his awards and medals and goal replays for hours on end, trying to rack his brain on how he was possibly deserving of any of this success. He was just another kid from Lexington, Massachussetts, rushing to wake the rest of his family up at 4 o’clock in the morning to reenact their hometown battle. There was nothing setting him apart from the kids back home aside from the constant praise from everyone who even looked in his direction.

He used to take his frustrations out on himself, and he still does, sometimes. His pale skin became littered with as many imperfections as he could fit, silently pleading to be noticed for something shameful, pleading to just be treated like any other guy.

Grace had noticed. She always noticed. She hugged him and whispered how she never knew something was wrong, told him it would be okay and it’d all work out.

“What if I don’t want it to work out, Grace? I want to be happy, but I don’t like living like this. Is that wrong? Is that sinful?” He’d asked softly, his voice breaking as much as his permanently blank tone allowed.

Grace had given him a gentle look, continuing to rewrap his damaged wrists. “You’re perfect the way you are, Will. Even the fucked up parts. You’re human, after all.“

She’d avoided his main question, probably unsure of how to answer it. That was fair. She was Grace, not God. He couldn’t expect everything from her, though she did her best 100% of the time.

Will stared at his wrists for days after the incident and began to find solace in walks through the busier areas of MA, where he could blend in as just another guy on his way to fuck knows where. Boston was good for that. Busy enough to be ignored and busy enough to feel like an extra in a shitty, underbudgeted movie.

Boston also had great bookshops. Will preferred the pre-loved shops; they had personality and a story to tell that was actually interesting. He’d found a nice one the last time he was in the city and planned on finding some mental health-based books that might make him feel less alone. Maybe a new Bible, too; he’d wanted a dark blue one for a while now.

What Boston was not good for, however, was avoiding fellow hockey players. Will had stumbled right into the back of Fraser Minten as soon as he’d walked in, his head nearly colliding with the Vancouverite’s as he let out a small groan, sending his new purchases to the old timber floors. Will rushed to pick up the items consisting of three Penguin Classics and an old piano magazine, taking a second to glance over the covers.

Fraser apologised before Will could, giving him a smile of recognition before taking the books and magazine back, checking them for damage.

“Will, hey! How are you? Great to finally meet you in person.”

Will blinked back at him, unsure of a response. He’d been told he wasn’t allowed to say ‘good’ or ‘fine’ anymore as part of starting therapy, but he assumed Fraser-fucking-Minten wasn’t too keen on hearing him dump everything he’d ever lived through on him in a random bookshop in the middle of the afternoon.

“Uhh, likewise, and I'm alright, thanks, been better. What are you doing in Boston?”

Fraser just gave a polite nod, stepping to the side to allow another customer to enter. His eyes had a certain sparkle to them, the same sparkle Will had seen in ancient paintings of Christ or Mother Mary helping those in need of support. Maybe Fraser could help Will. Maybe he could make it all go away.

“Just visiting, I’ve got a few friends here.” A pause. A full-body glance at Will. Another smile. “I didn’t know you read.”

Will shrugged, scratching the back of his scalp. He didn’t really register it himself; it was just another thing he mindlessly did, like a rusty control panel reciting the same commands for the last 18 years.

“Sometimes.”

-

Two years, nine months, and 28 days later, Fraser was cuddled into Will’s side in their apartment in a town between Lexington and Boston. They’d decided on the place six months and seven days ago and moved in exactly five months ago.

Will couldn’t remember when they started dating. It sort of blended into recovery dates and season games and stupid PR partnerships to make him seem marketable and picture-perfect.

Despite it all, he knew he loved Fraser, no matter what he was feeling. It was hard not to. He gave him a new lease on life and made him feel as normal as he possibly could. When Fraser had called him up after his first NHL hatty, Will genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time in years. It was different when it came from him. Fraser understood what it felt like, even if not to the same extreme. He helped him, and he made it okay.

Will would do anything for Fraser. Anything to see that gorgeous glint in his eyes shimmer just a little brighter when Will brought him breakfast in bed or gave him an extra kiss before heading out for the day. He had run the Boston Marathon with him this year to honour his grandfather, who’d been dreaming of it his entire life but didn’t have the strength for it anymore. Fraser had been overjoyed crossing the finish line next to his boyfriend, and his happiness rubbed off on Will like a contagious virus.

He’d met Fraser’s family in Vancouver and sat with them for Fraser’s first game on home soil, and his mom told him just how happy she was to see her son loved so passionately and genuinely. Will had cried that night with Fraser holding him and telling him just how loved he is and how happy they were to invite him into their family.

Fraser would do anything for Will, too. He went to church with him on their fourth date and sat quietly whilst Will prayed beside him in the pews. He said a quiet prayer himself that Will would be better when the time was correct and that Fraser would have the strength to help him as well as he was physically able to. He’d come over the second Will texted him ‘I’m not okay’ and wouldn’t ask any questions; he’d hold Will for hours until he fell asleep or burst into tears and let it all out on his chest.

When Will hurt himself again or tried to drink himself to death, Fraser peppered gentle kisses over his face and got him into bed, safe and warm, before cleaning up whatever mess had been left. He never left. He never debated it for a second.

If Will came to him doubting his faith, he’d lay him on his lap and pray the rosary over him whilst running a hand through his hair. Once he was done, he’d tell Will that God loves him over and over again until his voice went hoarse.

All that seemed to ring in Fraser’s head was ‘Will, Will, Will. Protect Will. Help Will.’

All that seemed to ring in Will’s head was ‘Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. Love Fraser. Let Fraser help me.’

Lying together in silence while listening to Boston traffic was something straight out of a dream, and neither wished they were anywhere else.

“I love you, Will,” Fraser whispered, pecking his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I love you too, Mints,” Will hummed back, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s head.

Everything felt perfect with Fraser, and that’s all Will needed to feel to know that everything would work out.

[minten02]

wip

[minten02]

will or smit — he/him , bisexual , taken , smitten #1 fan , ao3

🫀 : f.minten , w.smith , j.woll , c.bedard // sharks + bruins // ask me about my rarepairs