Can I request an imagine where you tell your boyfriend Will that you went to Home Depot without him??? Please and thank you 🙏
Secret Trip
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: You confess to your boyfriend Will that you committed the ultimate betrayal: a solo trip to Home Depot.
CW: Fluff.
The front door clicks shut behind you, the distinctive crinkle of a plastic bag echoing in the quiet entryway. You kick off your shoes, trying to be stealthy, but you know it's a lost cause.
Will appears in the doorway of the living room, his brow furrowed slightly as he takes in the orange-colored logo on the bag hanging from your hand.
"What's that?" he asks, his voice casual, but you know better. You know the slight edge of suspicion in his tone.
"Just some stuff," you say, attempting to breeze past him toward the kitchen. His arm shoots out, gently blocking your path. His eyes are narrowed now, zeroed in on the bag like it's a personal offense.
"You went without me," he states. It's not a question. He already knows. The betrayal in his tone is so thick you could cut it with a utility knife, probably one you purchased without his consultation.
"I needed a few things for the bathroom," you explain, holding up the bag as evidence. "A new showerhead and some caulk. It was a quick trip."
Will's jaw actually drops. "A quick trip? To Home Depot? There's no such thing. You didn't even text me. You didn't send me pictures of the different faucet options. You didn't ask me what kind of caulk to get." He looks genuinely wounded, like you just told him you traded his signed hockey stick for a toaster oven.
"It was silicone," you offer weakly. "For the tub."
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a small circle in the entryway. "Okay. Okay. But which one? The kitchen and bath kind? The waterproof kind? The paintable kind? Did you check the drying time? Did you look at the reviews?"
You can't help but let out a small laugh. "Will, it's caulk. I read the label. It said it's good for bathrooms."
He stops pacing and fixes you with a serious look. "We go to Home Depot together. That's our thing. We compare paint swatches. We test out the power tools. We spend forty-five minutes in the lighting aisle debating the merits of recessed versus pendant. You broke the system."
"I was efficient," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips. "In and out in twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes?" He looks horrified. "Impossible. The parking lot alone takes ten minutes. Did you even go down the seasonal aisle? They have the Halloween stuff out."
Your heart melts a little at his genuine distress. He's not actually mad, he's just… disappointed. FOMO is a powerful thing, especially when it involves a big box store. "I'm sorry," you say, stepping closer and wrapping your free arm around his waist. "I'll never do it again."
He sighs, his arms encircling you and pulling you flush against his chest. "You better not. My expertise is too valuable to waste. I have to make sure you get the right showerhead. The water pressure has to be just right."
You lean your head against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. "I know. I missed your input."
"Good," he murmurs into your hair, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "So, what's next on the list? Because we're going back. Together. This weekend. And we're getting the good caulk."
You smile against his chest. "Whatever you say, captain."
He kisses the top of your head, his earlier offense completely forgotten, replaced by the excitement of a future project. "That's my girl."
hi! I love your writing so much, i was wondering if you could write will smith n his gf having sex and she gets really over stimulated and says the safe word? it’s totally okay if you don’t though!
Red Light
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
description: You use your safe word for the first time.
CW: MDNI, Smut, use of safe word.
The world has narrowed to the slide of Will's skin against yours, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the relentless, perfect rhythm of his hips. Your head is thrown back, your fingers tangled in the sheets, your mind a blissful, hazy cloud of sensation. He's been driving you higher and higher, pushing you past the point of coherent thought and you're floating, adrift on a sea of pleasure.
"Will," you gasp, your voice barely recognizable, high and breathy. "Please… don't stop."
He chuckles, a low, predatory sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Wasn't planning on it, baby. Not until you're screaming my name."
His words are your undoing. He shifts his angle, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur, and it's too much. The pleasure, which was a warm, blissful wave just a moment ago, suddenly crests into something sharp, almost painful. It's overwhelming, a sensory overload that your body can't process.
Your mind goes blank, the single word you both agreed on rising to the surface, a lifeline in the storm of sensation.
"Red," you whisper, your voice cracking.
The effect is instantaneous.
One moment, he's a relentless force, driving into you with a singular focus. The next, he's completely still, his body frozen above yours. The change is so abrupt it's jarring. The room, which was filled with the sounds of your shared passion, falls into a sudden, heavy silence.
He pulls out of you carefully, the loss of his presence leaving you feeling suddenly empty and exposed. He's off the bed in a flash, kneeling beside you, his hands hovering, unsure if they should touch you.
"Hey," he says, his voice soft, gentle, a stark contrast to the demanding tone he was using just moments ago. "Hey, look at me. Are you okay? Talk to me."
You can't answer, your body trembling uncontrollably. Tears you didn't realize were forming stream down your cheeks. You turn your head, burying your face in the pillow, a wave of shame washing over you.
"Hey, no, none of that," he says softly, his hand finally landing on your back, rubbing soothing circles. "Don't you dare feel bad about this. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You did so good, baby. So good for me."
His words are a balm, slowly easing the knot of shame in your chest. You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get your racing heart under control.
"Can I touch you?" he asks, his voice still impossibly gentle.
You nod against the pillow.
He carefully gathers you into his arms, pulling you into his lap, your back against his chest. He wraps a blanket around you both, his arms a warm, secure anchor in the aftermath of the storm. He doesn't say anything, just holds you, his chin resting on your head, his breathing slow and steady.
After a few minutes, when the trembling has subsided and you can breathe without feeling like you're going to hyperventilate, you finally speak.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice hoarse.
"Don't," he says, his voice firm but kind. "Don't you dare apologize. Do you hear me? There is nothing to be sorry for. This is why we have the word. This is what it's for."
"I know," you say, turning in his arms to look at him. "I just… I didn't expect it. It was so good and then it was just… too much."
He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the remnants of your tears. "I get it. I do. And I'm sorry I pushed you too far. I should have been paying more attention."
"No," you insist, shaking your head. "It wasn't you. It was just… me. My body just… short-circuited or something."
He smiles, a soft, understanding smile that makes your heart ache. "Well, next time your body decides to short-circuit, we'll stop. Just like we did now. No questions, no apologies. Just stopping. Okay?"
"Okay," you agree, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For stopping. For taking care of me."
"Always," he says, his arms tightening around you. "Now, are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you some water."
"Water would be good," you admit.
He carefully disentangles himself, pulling on a pair of sweats before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns a moment later with a glass of water and a chocolate bar, handing them to you with a small smile.
"Hydration and sugar," he says. "The perfect aftercare combo."
You smile gratefully, taking a sip of water before breaking off a piece of the chocolate. "You're too good to me."
"Nah," he says, climbing back into bed and pulling you into his arms. "I'm just doing what I'm supposed to do. Taking care of my girl."
You snuggle closer, your head resting on his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. The intensity from before is gone, replaced by a warm, comforting intimacy that fills you with a sense of peace.
"I love you," you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
"I love you too," he replies, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
summary: You decide to punish your whiny boyfriend Will during a team dinner by teasing him under the table.
CW: Smut, mdni, public teasing, orgasm control, power dynamics, established relationship.
The restaurant buzzes with conversation and clinking cutlery, but all you can focus on is Will's perpetual sigh from beside you. He's been insufferable all day, complaining about practice, about his equipment and about the weather. When Coach announced the mandatory team dinner, Will's dramatic groan was the final straw.
Now, as you sit between Will and his teammate Mack, you decide enough is enough. If he wants to act like a brat, you'll treat him like one.
"Everything okay, babe?" you ask, placing your hand innocently on his thigh under the table.
"Fine," he mutters, pushing his vegetables around his plate.
Your fingers begin slow, deliberate circles against his dress pants. "You've been quiet."
"Just tired," he replies, but you feel him tense beneath your touch.
Mack leans across you. "Smitty, you still coming over to watch tape tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Will answers, his voice slightly strained as your hand drifts higher.
Your fingers trace the growing bulge in his pants, applying just enough pressure to make him shift in his seat. When the waiter comes to refill water glasses, you increase the pressure, watching with satisfaction as Will chokes on his response.
"You alright, man?" asks Misa from across the table.
"Fine," Will manages, shooting you a warning look that you pointedly ignore.
As conversation flows around you, you become bolder. Your palm rubs firmly against his length, feeling him harden beneath the fabric. His hand covers yours under the table, attempting to still your movements, but you push against his grip.
Coach's voice cuts through the noise. "Smith, I need to talk to you about your power play positioning."
Will nods stiffly, his knuckles white where he grips the tablecloth. "Yes, Coach."
Your fingers work at his zipper, slowly, carefully, until you can slip inside. His sharp inhalation is masked by a burst of laughter from down the table. When your hand makes direct contact with him, his whole body goes rigid.
"Your face-off percentage has been stellar this month," Coach continues, oblivious. "Keep that up."
You begin slow, deliberate strokes, base to tip, using his pre-cum to ease your movements. Will's breathing grows ragged, his free hand clenching into a fist on his thigh.
"You listening, Smith?" Coach asks.
"Yes," Will grits out, his voice tight. "Face-offs. Power play. Got it."
His teammates are deep in discussion about tomorrow's game against Vancouver, but Will is barely present. His hips make an involuntary thrust into your hand and he quickly coughs to cover the sound. You smile sweetly at him as if nothing is happening.
"Will, you're looking a little flushed," notes the team's nutritionist from two seats away. "Feeling okay?"
"Perfect," he bites out, glaring at you when no one's looking.
You pick up the pace, thumb circling his tip, feeling him twitch in your palm. His thighs tense, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. He's close, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches, by the desperate look in his eyes as he pleads with you silently.
As dessert menus are passed around, you feel him begin to pulse in your hand. His orgasm builds and right at the edge, you slow to a maddening crawl. He almost whimpers aloud, quickly covering it with a cough into his napkin.
"Smitty, you want dessert?" asks Mack.
"No," Will manages, his voice hoarse. "I'm good."
You continue your slow torture, bringing him to the edge again and again, each time denying him release. His face is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. When Coach finally announces they can leave, Will practically shoots up from his seat.
"Nice to see everyone," he says through clenched teeth, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit.
The car ride home is silent, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The moment the apartment door closes behind you, he has you pressed against it, his mouth hot and demanding on yours.
"You're going to pay for that," he growls against your lips.
"I'm counting on it," you reply, already working at his belt buckle. "Someone needed to teach you a lesson."
He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom as you laugh against his mouth. "Oh, I learned my lesson. And now it's my turn to teach you yours."
It’s Mother’s Day and it’s super hard for you since your mom passed a year ago so it’s the first Mother’s Day without her. Your boyfriend Will suggested you spending the day with him Grace and his mother.
First One Without You - Will Smith
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
summary: On your first Mother's Day since your mom passed away Will brings you to spend the day with his family.
CW: Fluff, grief, loss of parent, established relationship
The second Sunday in May dawns gray and heavy, mirroring the weight in your chest. You wake up to an empty apartment, the silence louder than any alarm could be. It's been a year since your mom passed, but the grief still feels fresh, a constant ache just beneath your skin. Today, though, it's sharper than usual. Today is Mother's Day and you're facing it without her for the first time.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It's Will, as always. Morning, beautiful. You up?
You type back a simple Yeah before forcing yourself out of bed. The apartment feels too big, too quiet without the morning calls you used to share with your mom. She'd always been the first person you talked to on Mother's Day, her voice bright and cheerful even when she was feeling sick.
A soft knock sounds at your door fifteen minutes later. You open it to find Will standing there, holding a tray with two mugs of coffee and a paper bag from your favorite bakery. His expression is gentle, understanding.
"Thought you might need this," he says, stepping inside and setting everything on the counter. He pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you in a way that makes you feel safe, even when your world feels like it's crumbling.
You bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "I don't know if I can do today, Will."
"You don't have to," he says softly, rubbing circles on your back. "But I was hoping you'd let me be with you. And maybe... maybe you'd come with me to my parents' house? Mom and Grace would love to see you."
The offer hangs in the air between you. You've met Will's family before, his warm, welcoming mother and his kind sister Grace, but the thought of being surrounded by their Mother's Day celebration feels like too much.
"I don't want to intrude," you mumble against his shirt.
"You could never intrude," he insists, tilting your chin up so you have to meet his eyes. "They want you there. I want you there. We'll get through today together."
An hour later, you're pulling into the Smiths' driveway, your hands clenched tightly in your lap. Will squeezes your thigh reassuringly before turning off the engine.
"Just breathe," he says softly. "It's going to be okay."
Colleen meets you at the door, her arms open wide. "There's my girl," she says, pulling you into a hug that smells like vanilla and home. "I'm so glad you're here today."
Your eyes burn with unshed tears as you hug her back. "Thank you for having me."
"Always," she insists, pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "Always."
Grace appears behind her mom, a gentle smile on her face. "Happy Mother's Day to the best mom in the world," she says, handing Colleen a beautifully wrapped gift before turning to you. "And I'm so glad you're here too. You're family now."
The morning passes in a comfortable haze of coffee and conversation. Colleen doesn't push, doesn't make a big deal about the day, but somehow she knows exactly what you need. She shows you old photo albums of Will as a child, tells embarrassing stories that have him blushing and somehow, in the middle of it all, you find yourself smiling.
After lunch, Colleen excuses herself to make a phone call, leaving you with Will and Grace in the living room.
"Your mom was amazing," Grace says suddenly, her voice soft. "Will told me what she was like."
Your throat tightens, but you nod. "She really was."
"She'd be so proud of you," Grace adds, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. "And so happy that you have Will."
Tears finally spill over, tracing paths down your cheeks. Will moves closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him.
"I miss her so much," you whisper, the words feeling inadequate.
"I know, baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know."
When Colleen returns, she finds you curled against Will, quietly crying. She doesn't say anything at first, just sits on the coffee table in front of you and takes your free hand in hers.
"The first year is the hardest," she says softly, her thumb stroking the back of your hand. "I lost my mom when I was just a bit older than you, and I remember thinking I'd never survive another Mother's Day."
You look up at her, surprised. "You never told me that."
"It's not something I talk about much," she admits. "But I want you to know that it gets easier. The pain never really goes away, but it changes. It becomes part of you, a part of your love for her."
Fresh tears fall at her words, but this time they're different, healing. Will tightens his arm around you, his presence a steady comfort.
"I brought you something," Colleen says, rising to retrieve a small wrapped box from the mantelpiece. "I wasn't sure if today was the right day to give it to you, but I think maybe it is."
She hands it to you and you unwrap it with trembling fingers. Inside is a delicate silver locket, shaped like a heart. When you open it, you find a tiny photo of your mom on one side and an empty space on the other.
"I thought you could put a picture of you and Will in the other side," Colleen says softly. "So she's always with you, but you're also moving forward."
A sob escapes you, but this time it's not just from grief, it's from overwhelming gratitude. You throw your arms around Colleen, hugging her tightly.
"Thank you," you whisper. "Thank you so much."
Later that evening, back in your apartment, you sit curled up on the couch with Will, the locket resting against your chest. You've spent the day surrounded by love and though the ache of your mom's absence is still there, it's been joined by something else, a warmth, a sense of belonging that you hadn't expected.
"Thank you for today," you say softly, tracing patterns on Will's hand.
He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Anything for you. Always."
You shift to face him, your heart full. "I love you, Will. So much."
"I love you too," he replies, his eyes shining with emotion. "And I know she's watching over you, so proud of the incredible person you've become."
Tears fill your eyes again, but you smile through them. "I think she'd really like your family."
"She'd love them," he agrees, pulling you into a gentle kiss. "Almost as much as she'd love seeing you happy."
You have a situationship with Will. A fight between the two of you causes you to pull away. You’re at the club with your girls tonight feeling and looking sexy, you dance in the middle of the dance floor. Dancing with cute and hot guys, your eyes lock eyes with Will across the room. A smirk dances on your face as your hips grind on the stranger knowing it’s driving Will crazy with lust and jealousy that someone who isn’t him is touching you like that.
Mine - Will Smith
pairing: Will Smith x female reader
summary: Will's jealousy ignites after watching you dance with another man at a club.
The bass vibrates through your body as you move to the rhythm, lost in the music and the attention of the handsome stranger whose hands are currently exploring your hips. Your girls cheer you on from the side, but your focus is on the man across the room whose dark eyes haven't left you since you walked in.
Will leans against the bar, jaw tight, drink forgotten in his hand. You can feel his gaze like a physical touch, hot and possessive. The fight from three days ago still stings, but tonight you're determined to show him what he's missing.
You turn in the stranger's arms, pressing your back against his chest as you grind your hips to the beat. Your eyes never leave Will's, a smirk playing on your lips as you watch his grip tighten on his glass. He knows exactly what you're doing and you can see the conflict in his expression between maintaining his cool and claiming what's his right here on this dance floor.
The stranger whispers something in your ear, his breath hot against your neck, but you barely register the words. All that matters is the way Will's eyes darken when the man's hands slide lower, gripping your thighs as you dance. You're pushing boundaries and you know it.
Finally, Will sets his glass down with a sharp click and pushes through the crowd. The stranger doesn't see him coming until Will's hand clamps down on his shoulder.
"She's with me," Will's voice is low, dangerous, leaving no room for argument.
The stranger raises his hands in surrender, backing away with a muttered apology before disappearing into the crowd. Will doesn't give you a chance to protest before his hand is wrapped around your wrist, pulling you through the throng of bodies toward the back of the club.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growls, pushing you against the wall in the secluded hallway leading to the restrooms.
"Dancing," you reply with false innocence, but your breath hitches when he presses his body against yours.
"Like hell you were," he says, his face inches from yours. "You know damn well what you were doing out there. Trying to make me jealous?"
"Is it working?" you challenge, your heart racing with adrenaline and desire.
His answer is a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth like he's starving and you're the only thing that can satisfy him.
"You're mine," he growls against your lips, his hands roaming your body possessively. "Every inch of you belongs to me."
"Then act like it," you gasp as his mouth moves to your neck, biting and sucking in a way that will definitely leave marks.
He chuckles darkly, his hands sliding under your dress to grip your ass. "Oh, I'll act like it. Right here, right now."
Before you can process his words, he's spinning you around to face the wall, hiking your dress up around your hips. The cool air against your bare skin contrasts sharply with the heat of his body pressed against your back.
"Anyone could walk back here," you say, a thrill running through you at the thought.
"Then you better be quiet" he says, his voice rough with desire as he frees himself from his pants.
He enters you in one smooth thrust and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips. His hand covers your mouth immediately.
"Shhh, baby. Don't want security breaking up our fun, do we?" he murmurs in your ear as he begins to move, setting a punishing pace that has you seeing stars.
His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he takes you hard and fast against the wall. The sounds of your bodies slapping together, the distant thump of the club music, your muffled moans, it all creates a symphony of forbidden pleasure.
"Look at you, taking my dick so good," he growls, his words sending shivers down your spine. "Such a naughty girl, showing off for everyone. Did you like having his hands on you? Did it turn you on knowing I was watching?"
You can only whimper in response, too lost in pleasure to form coherent words. His free hand moves from your hip to between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles that push you closer to the edge.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice rough with exertion. "Come all over my cock right here where anyone could walk in and see what a good girl you are for me."
His words combined with his skilled touch send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with intensity. Your body trembles as waves of pleasure wash over you and Will continues his movements, drawing out your release until you're completely spent.
He follows shortly after, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan as he finds his own release. For a moment, you both stay there, pressed against the wall, catching your breaths as the world slowly comes back into focus.
Will gently pulls out, helping you adjust your dress before turning you to face him. His eyes are soft now, the anger replaced by something warmer, more tender.
"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he says, brushing a stray hair from your face.
"Right back at you," you reply with a small smile.
He leans in for a softer kiss this time, full of apology and affection. "I'm sorry about our fight. I was an idiot."
"We both were," you admit, leaning into his touch.
"Come home with me?" he asks, his eyes hopeful. "Let me make it up to you properly."
You nod, letting him take your hand as he leads you out of the hallway and toward the exit.
a/n: post number twenty-two! 🩵 i did not proof read this please forgive me 💔 but do enjoy reading!
¡series masterlist
004. peace-be-with-us plan
the quiet that settled into the house after that porch night was suffocating kind that belongs solely to people who have known each other too long to lie well.
you had been in your room for three days. yes, three.
you knew it was dumb, but you were deeply hurt. you just couldn't grasp what the hell will’s problem was, completely blowing up over a simple tank top and those damn sweatpants that were currently sitting in the laundry basket right beside your bedroom door. why the hell did he care if you had a guy in your life? tsk. did he think you were that ugly, that you weren't even capable of being liked by someone? you thought and thought and thought until your head practically ached.
the night the porch fight happened, you had also completely surprised your dad—well, more like he surprised you. you and leo had been way too distracted by the residual tension to notice the front door opening, and your dad had burst inside. he was all smiles, fresh from his shift, and hell, he was getting old. but he was still handsome, exactly the same warm, grounding pops he had always been.
you really had to thank your dad for raising you the way you were right now. he was the one who always reminded you to be yourself, no matter what and no matter how. it’s always mind over matter, kiddo. but fuck—you couldn't exactly quote your way out of the mess that had happened with will.
on the fourth day of your so-called isolation, a soft knock rattled the wood. "hey kid, are you alright?" your dad asked, peeking his head through the crack. you nodded quickly, trying to look fine, but he pushed the door open anyway. leo was trailing right behind him, casually eating a thick slice of rye bread slathered with butter.
"i'm 'kay," you mumbled, shifting on your pillows. "you know, college stuff... i just need to rest and just—"
before you could even finish your sentence, they both walked right in. your dad sat heavily on the edge of your mattress, while leo claimed your desk chair, spinning it around backward to face you.
"your brother told me what happened," your dad said gently. he reached down, pulling the heavy blanket away from your face, and heaved a soft sigh. "how are you feeling?"
you swear your dad always chose the most random timing to drop his serious phrases, but you knew this wasn't about jokes anymore. he knew you were sad, mad, and completely overwhelmed. you didn't say anything; you just let out a heavy sigh, sat up, and buried your head straight into his chest, hugging him tightly.
your dad's rough hand caressed your hair, fixing the messy strands as you leaned into his flannel shirt. leo, watching from the desk chair, met your dad's eyes over your shoulder. oh, just how both of their hearts melted at the sight of their prime princess looking so small.
"i'm just mad, you know?" you mumbled against your dad's chest, your voice thick and frustrated. "smitty's words really hurt. i don't know if it was just the alcohol in his system or what, but it hurt me knowing how hard i've been trying to fit into that damned college, pops."
you weren't crying; you were just thoroughly exhausted. your dad let out a deep sigh, his large hands coming up to cup your face and pull you back slightly.
"oh, you poor prince princess," he joked softly, using his thumb to playfully wipe an imaginary saliva stain from the corner of your lips. your brother snorted, finally sliding off the desk chair to sit at the end of your bed.
"you know smitty, don't you?" leo asked. you just nodded mutely. "and you know he wouldn't say those things if it weren't for the sake of you? maybe okay, well—he completely overdid himself. he was a caveman. but you know he’s been with you ever since you guys were kids, right? he saw how those idiots bullied you back in middle school. maybe he just doesn't want that happening to you again."
your dad shifted on the mattress, wrapping one massive arm around leo on his left and the other around you on his right, pulling the two of you into his sides.
"pfft, as if i don't know what i'm doing," you heaved heavily, leaning your head on his shoulder. "and pa... do you ever think a guy would even like a girl like me? for fuck's sake..."
"yeah, i don't thi—" leo started to chime in, but your dad shot him a terrifying side-glance that made him immediately shut his mouth and swallow his bread.
"what i'm trying to say is, he’s worried," your dad added, his voice steady and warm. "he is in the nhl now, and he knows how these guys move. he has a lot of knowledge about the kind of crowds that hang around athletes and colleges. who knows, maybe he's just trying to protect you from those ugly idiots." he patted your head, standing up from the bed. "i missed you, kiddo. and it's a sunday—you can't just rot in this room forever. think about it, get ready, and we're heading to church, okay?"
he kissed the top of your head and grabbed leo by the neck on his way out aggressively shuffling his hair while leo resisted, looking thoroughly annoyed. you laughed at the sight and nodded. god, thank you for the best dad ever.
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it was 11:00 am by the time you finished getting ready. you had put on a soft baby-blue dress with a delicate white touch along the embroidery of the hems. sliding into a pair of sandals, you let your hair fall naturally down your back. looking in the mirror, your freckles were completely visible, and the cut of the dress complimented you perfectly.
"what took you so long, jv lineman, for christ's sa—oh."
your brother busted through your door, stopping dead in his tracks when he looked at you. "wow you look nice. you actually showered, right? you didn't just put that on with a stinky body?" he teased, pointing a finger at the fabric. you threw a pillow straight at his head and followed him out into the hall.
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the drive to the church wasn't far—a good ten minutes filled with your usual bickering and your dad loudly shouting from the front seat to just shut the both of you up.
the church was a beautiful, serene building covered in fresh white paint that felt completely peaceful against the autumn sky. you swore you could almost feel the second coming of christ—but then grace approached you on the steps, and you realized hell was standing just three feet away.
will was right beside her.
his hair was neatly tidied up, completely free of the usual messy hockey helmet look, and he was wearing a crisp blue polo with white trousers. he looked devastatingly handsome.
"hey—how are you? i-i'm so sorry for will—" grace started quickly, her eyes wide with apology. before she could even finish her sentence, you threw your arms around her, hugging her tightly and pulling her straight inside the church foyer. your dad greeted mr. and mrs. smith with a warm chuckle, following the two of you into the pews.
the mass was a peaceful, quiet time—or it was supposed to be. with will standing just a few feet away, peaceful was the absolute last thing on your mind. leo had deliberately slid into the middle of the two of you, acting like a massive human shield, but the arrangement did nothing to stop your hyper-awareness.
your thoughts were suddenly cut off by the pastor's voice booming during the homily.
"love is what showed god that he was helping us, brothers and sisters," the pastor announced, raising his hands toward the congregation. "as we gather here for our loving father, we must remember that he is the strength of our bodies, the one who cleanses us from our sins. but love also requires us to swallow our pride. we cannot let stubbornness build walls between us and the ones we care about. when we let anger fester, when we snap at each other out of fear or jealousy, we are failing the people who share our burdens. love your enemies, yes, but learn to extend grace to the fools close to you who don't know how to use their words."
you swear to god, the homily was a bit too true to what you and will were currently experiencing. you wished you could just bury yourself alive and meet christ himself right then and there, but you were just a young girl trying to survive a sunday. from the corner of your eye, you saw will clear his throat roughly and fix his composure, adjusting the collar of his blue polo. you just snickered under your breath and glared at the side of his face. he tried to look over at you, but you kept your eyes fixed rigidly on the altar.
suddenly, leo leaned over and nudged your arm. "i gotta go," he whispered. you immediately grabbed the fabric of his shirt, tugging him back and begging him with your eyes not to leave. he just slapped your hand away playfully, giving you a goofy grin. "the rye bread made my stomach ache, kiddo. i'll be right back."
you could have punched your brother right in his face as he slid out of the row. and now, there was an empty space between you and will.
and just on cue, the pastor spoke. "let us offer each other the sign of peace."
when you were kids, the sign of peace was the ultimate joke. you used to use it to tease grace and leo because they had accidentally kissed each other during a game of tag once; both of them had been so thoroughly disgusted by it that you and will had laughed until your stomachs hurt. it had been an inside joke ever since.
but now, you were stuck standing right next to him.
it was so awkward. you turned, placing a soft, quick cheek-to-cheek with your dad, then grace, and then mrs. smith. and then you turned around, and there stood will.
fuck it—fuck it. you both just stood frozen in the aisle, the silence between you thick and heavy.
"peace be with you," he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.
you just nodded, your throat dry. "peace be with you," you mumbled, trying to sit right back down to escape the proximity.
"how about smitty, y/n? you guys used to hug each other every time!" mrs. smith said happily, wrapping her arms around mr. smith's arm as she beamed at the two of you.
when will this end?
you had no choice but to stand back up, facing will. you leaned in, giving him a quick, stiff side-hug. will wrapped his broad arm around your shoulders, but he didn't entirely place his hand flat against your back, his fingers hovering awkwardly against the baby-blue fabric as if he was afraid to touch you. your heart did a dizzying lap against your ribs before you both broke away and sat down, staring straight ahead.
you're going to kill leo. you just knew that.
-----------------------
the end of the mass was quick and chaotic. the second the final hymn concluded, you quickly made your way out into the side courtyard, excusing yourself early before will could catch up to you. standing near the brick arches, you patted down your hair and checked your reflection in the glass of a small window, trying to calm your breathing.
"hey."
"what the fuck!" you yelled, jumping slightly as you whirled around. your heart completely skipped a beat.
will was scratching the back of his neck, his ears turning a bright red under his neat hair. you cleared your throat quickly, smoothing down the front of your dress to hide how rattled you were by his presence.
" 'm sorry."
the words were a tiny whisper, a muffled mumble that barely carried over the wind.
"what?" you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at him, forcing him to say it properly.
"i said i'm sorry," he repeated a little louder, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours, completely wide and full of a raw, flustered sincerity.
you let out a slow sigh, looking at him. standing there, one thing you know two things for certain: one, you were absolutely going to forgive him. two, he had no right to look that damn good in a simple blue polo. you felt your stomach flip all over again, a sudden heat rushing into your cheeks.
"i was just out of my mind, and the words just slipped," he stammered, the explanation pouring out all at once as he took a step closer, his broad frame cutting off the draft from the street. "i was just scared, you know? you know how guys move, and i see how things are now that i'm in the nhl. i know how bad grace's ex-boyfriend was, and i just—i didn't want some idiot..."
"it's okay, smitty," you cut him off gently, reaching up to playfully shuffle his perfectly tidied hair just to break his panicked rhythm. you let out a soft sigh, a small smile finally touching your lips. "i forgive you."
"and just like god's miracale, drum roll please....! they reconciled, thank you jesus! whacha think, grace, how did our plan work?"
you both snapped your heads around. leo was standing by the walkway, grace right by his side, both of them grinning like absolute idiots.
"what plan?" you and will synced perfectly, your eyebrows raising in identical looks of pure suspicion.
"the peace-be-with-us plan," leo chuckled, thoroughly proud of himself as he high-fived grace.
"i knew it! you don't have a stomach ache from the damn rye bread! you're immune to that shit!" you yelled, your old tomboy instinct flaring up in a split second. you lunged straight at your brother, your sandals clicking against the stone as you started aggressively slapping his arm and his chest.
will let out a low, ragged sigh of relief, and a second later, your parents emerged from the church doors, watching the three of you cause a scene and laughing quietly. the afternoon quickly transitioned into a loud, comfortable sunday brunch at the local diner, the table filled with the smell of coffee, pancakes, and a few familiar jokes.
-----------------------
by the time the afternoon began to wind down, everyone drifted out into the diner's gravel parking lot. your dad and mr. smith were deep in a conversation about the upcoming freight schedules at the pier, and grace was helping mrs. smith carry a box of leftover pastries to their truck, leaving you and will walking a few paces behind the rest of the family.
the autumn sun was high now, casting long, crisp shadows across the gravel.
will was walking close to you—so close that his broad shoulder brushed against yours with every step. the loud anger from the porch was completely gone, replaced by a strange, quiet shyness that made the space between you feel entirely fragile.
"so," will murmured, his hands shoved deep into his white trousers, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of his boots. "baby blue, huh?"
"what about it?" you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your fingers twisting the edge of your small cardigan.
"nothing," he muttered, his jaw twitching as a faint smirk tucked into the corner of his mouth. he cleared his throat, his neck turning that familiar shade of pink as his eyes flicked down to trace the clean, feminine line of your collarbone before quickly snapping back to the horizon. "just... it looks better than leo's old hoodies. a lot better, y/n."
your heart did a sudden erratic thud against your ribs. you looked away, your cheeks flushing warm as you tried to hold onto your steady, independent composure. "thanks, smitty. glad to know i have your stamp of approval."
"yeah, well," he mumbled, his pace slowing down until the two of you were lagging a full twenty feet behind your parents. he stopped near the side of your dad's truck, turning his massive frame fully toward you. he reached out, his thick fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before he gently caught the hem of your cardigan between his thumb and index finger, tugging it just enough to keep you from stepping up onto the running board.
you froze, your breath hitching in your throat.
will stepped closer, crowding your space until the clean scent of the wind and his expensive soap completely filled your senses. he didn't say anything. he just stared down at you, his pupils wide and intense, holding your gaze with a unblinking focus that made the sounds of the parking lot completely fade away. his hand stayed clamped on the fabric of your sweater, his knuckles warm against your hip, his jaw tight as if he was fighting a massive urge he couldn't put into words.
there was something humming beneath his expression—something hidden so deep it made your knees go entirely weak. it was different from before. he wasn't just the boy next door anymore or will from the porch night.
he leaned down slightly, his mouth hovering just inches from your ear, his breath warm against your cold skin.
"i have to fly back out for the road trip tomorrow morning," he whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, low tone that sent a shiver straight down your spine. his thumb rubbed a slow, heavy circle against the fabric of your sweater, his grip tightening just a bit. "but you're coming back down to the city for the weekend game, right? tell me you're coming."
you looked up into his waiting eyes, the silence between your mouths stretching out until it felt terrifyingly dangerous, leaving the answer hanging in the crisp harbor air.
(GAHAHAHAHHS im dead ts so trash, but would you like the chapters longer or no, lmk! thank you all for your kindest comments and support, thank you!!)
summary: riley and will get suprised for a third and final time
(wc 1562)
cw: panic/anxiety (comedic), extremely awkward, making out, detailed kissing, caught by parents
let me know if y'all want me to write anything else for will and riley. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
series masterlist main masterlist
Riley and Will were finally, completely alone. Ryan and Ellie were heading to Boston to see his parents and get moved into their college apartment, while Gabe was flying home to visit his parents in Illinois. It meant that Riley and Will could finally do whatever they wanted—wherever they wanted. They’d locked all of the doors, closed all of the blinds, and pulled all of the curtains shut.
It was relaxing getting to just spend time cuddling on the couch, just basking in each other’s presence for the first time in their relationship.
“I’d say Ryan and Ellie are halfway through Ohio by now,” Riley murmured, her fingers tangled in the curls at the name of Will’s neck.
They were tangled together on the sectional, the only light coming from the golden hues coming through the cracks in the curtains. The movie they’d started an hour ago was long forgotten, playing on mute behind them.
“Good,” Will breathed against her jaw. He shifted, pulling her closer until she was fully draped across him. “I love them, Ry, I do. But I’ve been waiting all week to have no interruptions… no one barging in or coming through the back door. I just get to… breathe you in.”
Riley smiled, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss that tasted like heaven. Without the fear of an audience, the kiss deepened quickly. It was filled with knowledge that in a day, Will would have to go home, pack all of his stuff, and move back to Boston. It was the last moment they’d spend together until Thanksgiving when she’d finally be able to visit him.
Riley shifted, swinging her leg over his lap to straddle him, her hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warm, sun-kissed skin of his abs.
Will groaned into her mouth, his hands firmly gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him, his swim shorts riding up his thighs as he did so.
The world outside of the lake house didn’t exist. It was just them.
There was just the rhythm of their breathing and the sound of the water lapping against the shore outside.
Then, the click of the front door unlocking echoed throughout the house.
Riley's heart seemed to stop as she jolted her head up and found herself face to face with her parents.
Not only was she caught straddling a boy’s lap on the couch—sucking his face off; that boy was Will Smith, someone she had assured them she wasn’t seeing.
Will was even more in shock; in a split second, he threw her off of him and stood up from the couch, trying desperately to right himself.
“What are you guys doing here?” Riley asked, realizing instantly that it was the wrong question to ask.
“What are we doing here?” Her mom repeated the question. “We’re here because your brother was pretty adamant that you were using his lake house as some 'hookup spot.'" We figured we’d prove him wrong but… I guess not.”
The silence that followed her mom’s words was deafening. The only sound was the hum of the refridgerator and Will and Riley’s frantic, panicked breaths.
Will looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floorboards. His hair was a bird’s nest of blonde curls, his shirt was wrinkled, and his face a shade of red that Riley had never seen before. He stood as stiff as a board, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides as if he weren’t sure if he was even allowed to move.
“Mom, Dad, I—” Riley started, her voice quivering as she smoothed down her shirt.
Her dad hadn’t said a word. He was standing by the door with a suitcase in each hand, his expression utterly unreadable, which scared Riley more. But his eyes were trained on Will.
“So,” her dad finally spoke, his voice low and dangerously calm. “When I asked you after the draft if there was anything going on, you lied?”
Neither of them answered, still frozen. The sting of it is harder than any lecture. Riley looked down at the carpet, the guilt taking over her body. “I didn’t want to lie. I just… I knew Jack would freak, and I wanted to tell them at the right time, and then—I don’t know—everything was happening so fast.”
“And you thought we’d react better by finding out—” Her mom paused. “How long has this been going on?”
Riley looked at Will then back at her parents. “Five months.” She whispered.
“Riley Arden! Five months!” Her mom exclaimed, “Did you think we’d react better by finding out like this?
Her dad finally set the suitcases down, moving further into the living room as he stood next to her mom. “You’re a good kid, Will. We’ve known your family for a long time now. But sneaking around our backs? In the boys’s lake house?”
“It was my idea,” Riley jumped in, stepping in front of Will. “He wanted to tell you guys, but I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” Her mom’s voice softened, but the disappointment was still there. “We’ve always told you kids that as long as you’re happy and respected, we’re on your side. But—Riley? She gestured toward the couple. “You’ve been lying to us for months and sneaking behind our backs.”
Will finally found his voice, stepping forward to stand beside Riley. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes. I really do care about Riley more than anything. We didn’t mean to disrespect you. We just—” Will gulped. “We wanted to make sure this was real. And it is.” He looked at Riley in a reassuring way, trying to subconsciously tell her that he had her back and she wasn’t alone.
The silence after was heavy, but as Riley’s mom, Ellen looked at her daughter’s small smile. She says the way Will wasn’t just standing there; he was being protective.
Ellen let out a long, weary sigh, but this time, it was followed by a small, reluctant shake of her head. “Well, Jim," she looked at her husband, "guess you’re getting a big payday."
Riley blinked, her mouth falling open. “Wait… what?”
Her dad didn’t smile—not yet—but he did have a glint of a smirk. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone before looking at the ceiling as if counting his lucky stars.
"Quinn owes me fifty. Jack owes me a hundred. And Luke..." Jim chuckled darkly, finally looking at Will with a glimmer of respect. "Luke thought it was Gabe. I told him he was blind. No one looks at a girl the way Will looked at you when he got drafted, Ry.”
Will’s jaw dropped. “You… you had a bet?”
“Will, we’re a very close family, and Riley is a pretty bad liar.” Her mom said, walking further into the room and around the couch. “We noticed she was spending a lot of time 'at Ellie's' or hanging out with you guys, but Gabe was still at home. We just didn’t know for certain how much time she was spending with you guys.
"We’re not mad that it’s Will," Jim clarified, crossing his arms. "Will is a good kid. His parents are our friends. We’re upset that you felt like you had to hide it. That you didn't trust us enough to just tell us."
"I wanted to!" Riley exclaimed, her voice cracking. "But Jack... you know how he is. He’s so protective, and I didn't want the hockey thing to make it weird before we even knew what it was."
“Riley, the hockey thing was always going to make it weird, but only for a little bit." Her mom said, walking over and finally pulling her into a brief, one-armed hug. “But hiding it just made it weirder. Now, instead of a nice dinner, your father has to tell Jack that he owes him 100 dollars and that he lost the bet because we caught you two basically fused together on the couch.”
Riley winced. “Can we leave that part out?”
Will’s face had turned even more red, if that were possible. “I really am sorry, sir. I should have come to man-to-man.”
Her dad walked over and clapped Will on the shoulder—hard.
“You’re a good kid, Will.” He said, his expression softening, “Clearly she’s happy. But you two are not staying here alone tonight. We’ll help you shut down the house and then we’ll drop Will off at his house.”
Riley let out a breath. "So... you're not gonna kill him?”
"Kill him?" Jim headed toward the kitchen, a smirk finally breaking through as he let out a laugh. "And lose out on the chance to hold this over Jack’s head for the next ten years? Not a chance. Will, help me with the bags. Then you and I can go sit on the porch and you can tell me exactly what your 'long-term' plan is with my daughter.”
Will nodded with wide eyes as he moved past Riley and followed her dad.
