#rinkmuse

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."

you don't answer.

the apartment is quiet except for the soft rustle of you settling in. mack stands there for a minute, jaw tight, arms crossed. he hates losing arguments, hates feeling misunderstood more.

but what he hates most? the silence.

he lasts about five minutes in the bedroom before he exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. he replays everything in his head -- your expression, the way your voice wavered at the end. he's good at reading plays developing on the ice, but he'd not always as quick at reading emotions.

still, he tries.

when he walks into the living room, you're already half-asleep, curled up on the couch, blanket barely covering you. you look smaller somehow. not stubborn, not dramatic, just hurt. his chest tightens at the sight of you.

"hey," he says softly, kneeling beside the couch.

you don't move.

he sighs, guilt finally outweighing pride. "i'm sorry, okay? i shouldn't have snapped at you. i just-" he pauses, searching for words like he's searching for an opening. "i don't ever want you thinking hockey matters more than you. it doesn't."

your eyes flutter open, glassy with sleep. "you could've just said that," you mumble.

"i know." he gives you that crooked, sheepish grin -- the one he's caught using all the time when he knows he's messed up. "i'm still working on the whole communication thing."

he gently tugs the blanket higher around your shoulders. "come back to bed?"

you hesitate for a second.

and that's when he does something very earnest, and direct. he rests his forehead against yours lightly. "i don't like sleeping without you," he admits quietly. "it feels wrong."

the sincerity in his voice melts the last of your resistance. for all his competitiveness, for all his intensity, when it comes to you? he chooses you every time.

WILL SMITH

you don't mean to fall asleep. you told yourself you were just going to lie down on the couch for a minute -- just until the sting of the argument fades, just until the tight feeling in your chest loosens. the tv is off, the apartment is too quiet. you hug one of the throw pillows to your chest and stare at nothing.

you hear the bedroom door open down the hall. will doesn't slam doors. he never has, even when he's frustrated, he's always controlled. intense, but controlled.

his footsteps pause when he sees you. he stands there for a moment, arms folded over, replaying the argument in his head. the stubborn back and forth, both of you refusing to give up. will hates unresolved tension. on the ice, problems are solved fast -- once the short shift's over, move on. but this? this lingers.

"c'mon," he says softly, stepping closer. "you're gonna wreck your neck out here."

you stir on the couch, still refusing to wake. his expression shifts completely then -- the frustration from earlier melting away completely. the steady, dependable energy he always carried with himself at the rink slips into place here. he kneels beside the couch and brushes your hair away from your face.

"i don't like fighting with you," he admits quietly, even though you can't hear him. "you know that."

when you shiver slightly, he doesn't hesitate anymore. he slides one arm under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you easily. he's careful with you, like you're something precious he doesn't want to mishandle.

you blink awake halfway down the hall. "will...?"

"yeah," he murmurs. "i've got you."

you bury your face into his shoulder automatically. he sets you down on the bed instead of retreating to his side. he sits beside you, thumb brushing slow circles against your arm.

"we can be mad," he says quietly. "but don't sleep out there."

there's no sense of ego in his voice, just sincerity. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"we'll figure out everything in the morning. together."

FRASER MINTEN

the apartment is quiet in that heavy, stubborn way that only happens after an argument. you're curled up on the couch, wrapped in the throw blanket you always steal from his side of the bed. the lights are low, and you'd told yourself you didn't care if he noticed you weren't in bed.

you absolutely care.

the bedroom door opens softly down the hall. you hear his footsteps -- slow, and hesitant. fraser isn't the type to slam doors or raise his voice, even during the argument. he'd just stay frustratingly calm, hands on his hips, jaw tight.

now he stands at the edge of the living room, taking you in.

knowing he was staring at you, you don't turn over to look at him. "i'm fine."

there's a pause. you can practically feel him thinking. he runs a hand through his hair -- he always does that when he's trying to figure out what he needs to do.

"you're not fine," he says quietly. "you're on the couch."

you shrug. "didn't want to bother you."

that makes him sigh in a soft and controlled manner, but still hurt. he walks over and crouches beside the couch so he's eye level with you. his voice loses its edge.

"you don't bother me. ever."

you finally glance at him. his expression isn't angry anymore, it's worried. fraser's steady like that -- he cools down fast, but he hates the distance. he hates feeling like there's a space between you.

"i don't like fighting with you," he admits. "but i like you out here by yourself and uncomfortable even less."

you swallow. "you were mad."

"i was frustrated," he correct gently. "there's a difference."

his hand brushes yours, tentative at first, then firmer when you don't pull away. reassuring in a quiet way that was warm and solid.

"come back to bed," he murmurs. "we can still be annoyed at each other. we just don't have to do it in different rooms."

a tiny smile pulls at your lips despite yourself. "that's your solution?"

"it's a good one," he says, almost defensive, but softer now. "we're a team. teams don't split up over one bad moment."

that does it. you sit up slowly, and he immediately stands, holding the blanket out like it's part of the negotiation. when you step into his space, he wraps his arms around you without hesitation, resting his chin on your head.

"i'm sorry," his whispers.

you nod against his chest.

he presses a small kiss to your hair. "next time, you're not allowed to sleep on the couch otherwise i'll just follow you out here."

CONNOR BEDARD

the argument had been stupid. you both knew it. it started over something small -- him being late again with practice running long, and his phone dying. it built into something bigger. you'd crossed your arms. he'd gone quiet, eyes distant like he was replaying a moment he wished he could redo.

now you're curled up on the couch, blanket half-draped over you. you don't hear him at first. connor moves quietly, almost cautiously. he stands there for a second, just looking at you.

you look uncomfortable. your neck bent at an awkward angle, one hand tucked under your cheek. he exhales through his nose. "really?" he mutters softly to himself.

he disappears down the hall, and for a second you think he's just going to leave you there. he comes back with your favourite hoodie of his, and another blanket. he drapes them over you carefully, trying not to wake you.

you stir anyway.

"go to bed," you mumble, eyes barely open.

he rubs the back of his neck. "i was going to tell you the same thing."

silence lingers. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other -- nervous energy, and a restless movement.

"i hate it when we fight," he says finally, voice quieter than usual. "i'm not...great at it."

you sit up slightly, the blanket falling into your lap. "you kind of shut down."

"yeah." he gives a small, sheepish huff. "i know. i just- when things get heated, i don't wanna say something stupid. so i don't say anything. which is...also stupid."

despite yourself, you almost smile. he closes the space between you, meeting your eyes. there's something earnest about him, something genuine and sincere.

"you sleeping out here isn't fixing anything," he says gently. "if you're mad, be mad at me in our bed. don't freeze yourself out here."

he reaches for your hand, squeezing it. his grip is warm and steady.

"i'll try to be better at talking," he adds. "you deserve that."

and the way he looks at you -- focused and determined, like you're the only thing that matters -- you know he means it.

you cleared your throat lightly.

"i signed us up for something tomorrow."

he didn't react at first, just tapped his screen to pause the video. "what time?"

"ten."

that made him glance over his shoulder at you; ten was manageable. early, but not unreasonable.

"it's a yoga class," you added.

he nodded once. it sounded good -- stretching, mobility, recovery.

you let a few seconds pass before finishing your sentence.

"it's a couples class, and it's fully nude."

the room didn't get quieter or louder, but something in the air shifted. quinn's shoulders went still. completely still. the kind of stillness that only happens when someone is recalculating.

he slowly set the tablet face down on the couch and turned around fully to look at you. his expression wasn't angry, it wasn't even shocked. it was analytical.

"fully," he repeated carefully.

you nodded, keeping your face neutral. he leaned back against the couch, forearms resting on his knees now. there was a faint tightening along his jawline. his brain was clearly running scenarios -- room layout, number of people, proximity, you in the middle of it all.

"with other people there?" he asked.

"yes."

that's when you could see it -- the smallest flicker in his eyes. not insecurity, not distrust, but protectiveness.

he wasn't loud about it, didn't raise his voice or snap. instead, he asked how many people, whether you'd already paid, if it was refundable.

every question he asked sounded calm, but the tapping of his fingers against his knee betrayed him.

when you told him it wasn't refundable, he leaned back and exhaled through his nose, head tipping toward the ceiling like he was absorbing a minor catastrophe.

"i don't see the purpose of being fully nude," he said finally, voice level. "why would stretching require...that."

you shrugged lightly, "it's meant to be freeing."

his eyes flickered to you again, sharper now. the idea wasn't sitting right with him. not because he didn't trust you -- you could see that clearly. it was the strangers. the setting. the lack of control.

he leaned forward slightly, voice lowering, "if i'm doing yoga with you," he said evenly, "it's not going to be in a public gym."

there it was. the line in the sand.

that was when your composure cracked. the laughter slipped out before you could stop it, and the confusion on his face lasted exactly two seconds before the realisation dawned on him.

his eyes dropped to your phone propped up against the arm of the couch.

"you're joking."

you nodded, still laughing.

he shook his head once, reaching forward to tug you closer to him. his arm slid around your waist instinctively, holding you there like he'd been bracing himself for something he didn't want to picture.

"you're unbelievable," he muttered, but his grip didn't loosen.

he wouldn't admit it outright, but he'd been quietly spiraling. he absolutely would have shown up just to stand between you and every imaginary stranger in that room.

NICO HISCHIER

the cafe was quiet, early morning light casting soft shadows across the table between you. nico sat across from you, posture relaxed but attentive, and fingers loosely wrapped around his coffee cup.

he always listened fully when you spoke. eye contact steady, focused. which is what made this more interesting.

"i'm trying something new tomorrow," you said casually.

he tilted his head slightly. "oh?"

"a yoga class."

he nodded approvingly, knowing the advantages that came with yoga.

"it's nude yoga. one of my friends invited me."

the pause was subtle. he didn't react immediately. didn't frown or raise his voice. he simply blinked once, then leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his hands together in front of him.

"nude," he repeated calmly.

"yup."

"and there will be other people?"

you nodded.

his jaw set slightly. not aggressively. just firmly.

"i trust you," he said evenly after a moment. "that isn't the issue."

there it was. he wasn't angry. he wasn't insecure. he simply didn't like the idea of it. you could see it in the way his thumb pressed against his knuckle -- a small tell of tension.

"i prefer privacy," he continued, voice measured. "especially with something like that."

the calmness made it more intense somehow. he wasn't pleading. he wasn't reactive. he was drawing a boundary. when you mentioned you'd already paid, his brows lifted subtly.

"then we should discuss it," he said, tone firmer now.

that was when you let out a chuckle. he stared at you for a long second before he realised why you started to laugh. you were just playing a silly prank on him to see how he'd react. upon the realisation, he exhaled slowly, tension dissolving.

"you are so mean," he said quietly, but there was the faintest smile tugging at his mouth now.

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"next time," he added, thumb brushing gently over your skin, "leave me out of your little experiments."

and with that, he leaned back, still steady, still composed, but his hand lingered just enough to remind you that he'd been paying attention the whole time.

LUKE HUGHES

you told luke while the two of you were folding laundry together, sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor. it was domestic and quiet, the kind of soft moment that made the prank feel almost cruel.

almost.

"i signed us up for something tomorrow," you said lightly.

he glanced up immediately, smiling. "what?"

"a yoga class."

he nodded, folding one of his hoodies neatly. "that's good."

you swallowed the grin threatening to surface. "it's couples yoga...and it's fully nude."

the hoodie slipped slightly in his hands. he blinked.

"nude?" he asked quietly.

you nodded.

there was no dramatic reaction, no pacing, no immediate argument. instead, luke went very still, staring down at the fabric in his hands like he was trying to reorganise his throughts before speaking.

"are there gonna be other people there?" he asked after a moment.

"uhh yeah i think so."

his throat bobbed slightly when he swallowed. you could almost see the internal spiral beginning -- steady overthinking.

he trusted you. that much was obvious. but the idea of strangers seeing you like that unsettled him in a way he didn't quite know how to articulate.

"i'm gonna be honest, i don't really like the sound of that," he admitted softly.

it wasn't controlling. it wasn't accusatory. it was vulnerable. you watched the faint flush creep up his neck. he rubbed the back of it absently, a nervous habit surfacing.

"are you sure you want to do that?" he asked.

there was genuine concern in his voice -- more about you than himself.

when you told him you'd already paid, his eyes widened slightly, stress flickering across his face.

he set the hoodie down and shifted to sit closer to you, his hand brushed against your almost accidentally. "i don't know if i'm okay with that," he admitted softly, voice low and careful.

you reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "it's just a class," you said, trying to soothe the unease you could feel radiating off him.

he swallowed and nodded, but didn't let go of your hand. "i know," he said quietly. "it's just...hard to picture. i guess i just...want to be with you, not...everyone else."

there was no anger in his words, just sincerity. his eyes searched yours for understanding.

you smiled softly, brushing your fingers over his. "relax," you said, leaning a little closer. "it's a prank. i just wanted to see your reaction."

his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment his mouth opened like he wanted to say something, then closed again. relief flooded over his features, and the faint pink on his neck deepened, this time from embarrassment instead of panic.

"you...you're joking?" he asked, incredulous, voice low and still careful.

"yes," you said, stifling a laugh. "no nude yoga tomorrow. you can relax."

luke exhaled slowly, leaning back against you, a small, half-laugh escaping him. "i- okay, i- wow," he muttered, shaking his head, still processing. "you are absolutely impossible."

you grinned, letting the tension melt between you. "i know. but admit it -- you totally panicked."

he looked down at your intertwined hands, cheeks still flushed, and managed a small, reluctant, smile. "maybe a little," he admitted, voice quiet, almost sheepish. then he added, softer, almsot tenderly, "but i would've held your hand the whole time, just so you know."

you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "good to know. that's reassuring."

he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, still keeping his hand around yours. "you're lucky i like you," he murmured quietly. "even when you're impossible."

and there you stayed, side by side on the floor, the prank done, the tension gone, and luke entirely flustered -- soft, protective, and completely yours.

JACK HUGHES

you told him while the two of you were in the kitchen, sunlight spilling across the countertops. jack was leaning against the island, absentmindedly spinning a water bottle in his hands while you pretended to scroll through your phone.

it was the perfect setup.

"i'm doing something tomorrow," you said casually.

he looked up immediately, "what?"

"a yoga class."

he shrugged. "hot yoga?"

you shook your head slightly. "not entirely...it's nude yoga which really helps you sweat everything out. i'm going with a friend."

the reaction was instant. his hand stopped mid-spin. the bottle clattered lightly against the counter as he blinked at you, trying to decide if he misheard.

"nude," he repeated. "like fully naked, no clothes at all?"

you nodded.

he pushed off the counter, pacing once across the kitchen like he needed movement to process it. his reactions were never subtle -- everything showed on his face.

"with who?" he asked.

"a friend, and of course everyone else attending the class."

you watched the shift happen in real time. the playfulness drained first, then the casual confidence. what replaced it wasn't anger -- it was agitation.

he ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. "how many people?"

you shrugged, "uhh i don't know, maybe like fifteen?"

he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "absolutely not."

the words came out fast, impulsive, and protective. he wasn't yelling, but he was definitely reacting. his body language said everything -- pacing, shoulders tense, eyes flicking back to you like he was trying to understand how you could possibly think this was fine.

"i trust you, obviously," he said quickly, almost defensively. "that's not what i'm concerned about."

you tilted your head, feigning innocence.

"it's some random dudes in a room," he continued, frustration threading through his voice. "why would you wanna do that?"

there was something almost boyish about how transparent he was. he wasn't calculating his response. he wasn't filtering it. he just didn't like it.

when you added that you'd already paid, he groaned and dragged a hand down his face, turning away for a second as if trying to cool himself down.

that's when his eyes landed on your phone angled suspiciously on the counter.

he froze.

"...are you filming?"

you broke immediately.

relief washed over his face first -- visible and dramatic -- followed by mild betrayal.

"you're insane," he muttered, stepping toward you and pulling you against his chest, not letting go of you.

his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, chin resting on your head like he needed to reassure himself the scenario wasn't real.

"for the record," he said more quietly, "i was not jealous."

you hummed into his shirt. he tightened his hold just slightly.

"okay, maybe a little."

he laughs, not fully registering what you had just said. "really? i told him he should get on raya."

you blink at him, trying to get him to realise. "yeah! isn't that crazy?"

"i think his bc friends are trying to set him up or something," he says casually, still not catching on.

by now, you were sure he would've connected the dots, so you started to improvise. "should i have swiped right and matched with him?"

still not taking note of the fact you said you were on tinder, mack was still laughing it off; laughing at the thought of you matching with will.

"that would be so funny," he grins, "because he'd be all like 'omg i just got a match' and it turns out to be you."

the moment the words leave his mouth, you see it. the shift. his smile falters.

"wait-" he blinks at you. "why are you on tinder?"

you finally let out the laughter you've been holding in, shoulders shaking. "took you long enough to get it."

his eyes flick to your phone. then back to you. then back to your phone again. the realisation crashes over him.

"oh my-" he drops his head into his hands. "no. no, you did not."

you grin, reaching over to turn the phone so he can see you recorded the whole thing.

"mack."

"you're evil," he groans.

"you didn't even question why i was on tinder."

he lifts his head slowly, narrowing his eyes at you. "i know you. you would never." then after a beat, "but for like...two seconds? my heart stopped."

you gasp dramatically, "it did not."

"it did," he insists, pointing at his chest. "i was about to start asking you very serious questions."

"you were laughing!"

"i was in denial!" he defends himself.

you laugh again, leaning across the table to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"relax," you murmur. "you're stuck with me."

he smirks, recovering quickly. "good. because if you ever actually download tinder, i'm downloading it too."

you raise a brow, "to do what?"

"to swipe until i find you," he says easily.

WILL SMITH

the living room is dim except for the glow of the tv in front of you two. some random movie you picked plays in the background, neither of you really paying attention to it. you're curled up against the side of will, legs tucked under a blanket, while he balances a plate of cookies on his lap, and a glass of milk in his hand.

domestic. peaceful. completely unsuspecting.

he dunks another cookie into his milk, watching it carefully as if it were a science experiment. you, however, are focused on something else.

carefully and casually, you shift your phone against one of the couch pillows. you angle it just enough to catch his face -- but not obvious enough for him to notice.

he takes a bite of his cookie, satisfied. "you want one?" he asks, already reaching toward you with a half-dunked cookie in hand.

"in a second," you mumble, pretending to scroll on your phone.

you wait a minute before you blurt out, "omg i just found mack on tinder."

he takes another bite of his cookie, snapping his head towards you. you thought he caught on immediately, but the next words that came out his mouth took you by surprise.

"no you didn't," still shocked at the fact that mack was on tinder. that's when it hits him.

"how?" an eyebrow raises towards you, "you're not supposed to be on tinder, silly goose," taking another bite of his cookie.

taking a sip of his milk, leaving its mark above his upper lip, he moves his face closer to you, questioning what you had said.

"why are you on tinder hmm?" licking the top of his lip, wanting to get to the bottom of this situation.

you laughed at his reaction -- surprisingly calm -- turning your phone around to show that you were recording.

"is this another one of those pranks?"

still laughing, you nodded, answering his question.

"alrighty, joke's over. did you want the last cookie?" already moving on from the prank, knowing you would never actually be on tinder, and wanting to pay attention to the movie.

you take the last cookie, and will put his arm around you, bringing you even closer to him. you lay your head on his shoulder, having your fair share of giggles for tonight.

FRASER MINTEN

the both of you were laying in bed, cuddled up but doing your own thing -- you scrolling through your phone, and fraser rewatching one of his matches beside you, looking to improve his game. he had one arm wrapped around you, his eyes heavily focused on the screen as the replay flickered across it.

noticing how absorbed and concentrated he was, you carefully angle your phone towards him, just enough to get his face and part of his body in frame.

"connor is on tinder." you say casually, breaking the 'news' to fraser.

"the dating app?" he questions, eyes still glued to his match footage, not fully registering what you just said.

"yeah," you reply, hoping he would notice what that implied.

"really?" he hums. "let me see the profile. what does it say?"

"it just says stuff about him."

"what are the pictures?"

he's still not getting it. you try making it as obvious as you could, "i'm on tinder."

"i know, but what pictures did he use?"

you stare at him. still nothing.

you inch closer toward him, "fraser, why would i be on tinder?"

that makes him pause -- but only slightly.

"you have tinder?" he asks slowly, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. "...wait you're on tinder? are you serious?"

you giggle, trying to keep your composure. "yeah.."

his expression shifts completely now. the analysis of his match is forgotten. the shift is immediate. he sets his phone down this time. fully. his brows knit together, and his bottom lip juts out slightly before he can stop it.

"no," he says quietly. "you're joking."

you don't answer right away, trying to hold your composure. he pushes himself up, turning over you so he's hovering above, not intimidating -- just close. searching your face.

"why would you need tinder?" he asks, softer now. not accusing. just confused.

the tiny pout on his face makes your chest squeeze. that was your breaking point. a laughter spills out of you, and you reach over to grab your phone. his eyes narrow.

"you're recording."

you bite your lip, failing miserably at hiding your grin.

fraser glances towards your phone, and lets out a breath of disbelief. "you set me up while i was watching game footage?"

"you were too focused," you tease, reaching up to brush your thumb over his cheeks. "i had to make it obvious."

"...you're so mean," he mutters, though there's no heat behind it -- just relief flooding his features.

he exhales, the pout slowly melting away. "i was actually sad for a second."

that wipes the smile off your face immediately, "you were?"

he nods once. "yeah. i thought maybe i did something wrong."

your heart softens completely. you tug him down to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. "you didn't do anything wrong, honey. ever."

he buries his face into your shoulder, mumbling, "don't say stuff like that."

"like what?"

"that you're on tinder."

you grin into his hair, "okay. i'll delete it."

he lifts his head slightly, "you better not even have it."

"i don't," you laugh.

he studies your face for a second longer, then leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

"good," he murmurs.

your phone, still recording, captures the way he cuddles back into you -- arm wrapping tighter this time. just in case.

CONNOR BEDARD

connor was quietly scrolling on his phone beside you, the room filled with that comfortable kind of silence that only exists when you're completely at ease with someone. you glance at him. he's relaxed. unaware. perfect.

you shift your phone in your hand, angling it just enough to capture his face, but making it seem like you're still scrolling on your phone.

"hey, babe?"

"yeah?" he hums, still scrolling.

"did you know fraser's on tinder?"

that immediately gets his attention.

"fraser?" he turns slightly toward you.

"yeah. i just saw him on tinder."

now he fully turns to you, face suddenly much closer to yours.

"and what are you doing on tinder?" he asks, raising his brows. and all you do is just laugh in his face whilst his expression doesn't change.

"are you actually on tinder?"

"nah," you say quickly. "i've just seen fraser on there." you scramble for the first excuse that comes to mind, not thinking he would register what you said so quickly. "isn't that crazy?"

connor just stares at you. blankly. like he's replaying the last thirty seconds in his head. you bite back a smile, keeping your phone subtly pointed at him.

"...why the fuck are you on tinder?" he repeats, slower this time.

then his eyes flick downward. he notices that angle of you phone and looks back up at you.

"are you recording?"

that's when you lose it. laughter spills out of you as his face shifts from confusion to realisation. he exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. "you're unbelievable."

you can't stop laughing.

"don't play like that," he says, but there's no real anger in his voice -- just the faintest hint of hurt under the surface.

that makes you pause.

"wait," you say quickly, sitting up a little. "i'm not actually on tinder. it's a prank."

he shakes his head slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah...i figured. but for a second there, i was actually worried."

you tilt your head, heart fluttering at the way he looks at you. "worried? about what?"

"about what plans you might have next," he mutters, leaning closer. his hand brushed yours as he props himself on the bed. "and now..." he narrows his eyes playfully. "...i might just have to prank you back."

you freeze for half a second, trying not to laugh.

"oh really?" you tease.

"yeah," he says, smirking, leaning in just enough that your foreheads touch. "and next time, you won't see it coming."

you giggle, heart racing, already wondering what he'll come up with. but for now, he's hovering above you, victorious, and the recording phone sits quietly beside you -- capturing every moment of your chaotic little victory.

"hey fraser can you come here for a sec?"

"yeah baby hold on a sec...what'd you need?"

"can you put your arms up just like this while i do something real quick?" guiding his arms into position above his head.

trusting you completely, fraser doesn't question you and simply complies with whatever you're making him do. with one last quick and unnoticeable glance at the camera, you press your lips together in a lingering kiss.

with fraser always listening to your instructions, he leaves his arms up whilst he meets you halfway in the kiss, cherishing the moment and committing it to memory.

all the videos you saw of other couples doing this trend had their partners engulfing them into their arms. however, you felt an unexpected absence, the feeling of fraser's arms not being around you therefore, breaking the kiss to see what was happening.

"fraser baby why are your arms still up?" a slight chuckle leaving your lips.

"because...you said i needed to put my arms up" with a soft flush starting to colour his cheeks in embarrassment, thinking he had done something wrong.

you explain the trend to him, realising that your fraser will always listen to what you say.

MACKLIN CELEBRINI

for what feels like years but in reality has been a few hours, you've been trying to find the right moment with mack to do the couples trend that you've been seeing all over your for you page. you've either forgotten about it in the moment, being caught up with something else, or mack hasn't been around as soon as you remember to do it.

it's just you an him laying on the couch together, watching your comfort show when you finally find the time to do the trend on mack. the end credits roll on the episode you're watching and you ask mack to pause the show before it jumps to the following episode.

"what's up? do you want a snack or a quick break before the next episode?"

"that sounds good, but can you actually stand up for a second?"

with confusion written over his face as to why you asked him to stand up, wondering if you wanted him to get the snacks for you two.

"can you put your arms up like this for me?" demonstrating to him what position you wanted him to get into.

complying with your request with his arms tensed over his head, he's still confused "what? why?"

"just ugh you'll see in a sec" not wanting to ruin what you were about to do.

getting excited that you finally have your moment, you lean in for the kiss, wrapping your hands around his face.

mack hadn't seen this coming, but was enjoying every moment of it. immediately, his arms fell from above his head, wrapping them around you to embrace you better. all tension was released, and all that was left in his mind was sharing this moment with you.

finally breaking away from the kiss, mack asked why he had to put his arms up. you explained the trend to him through a series of all the videos you had liked leading up to the kiss you two shared.

"you melted like butter."

WILL SMITH

this whole evening, you've been seeing a new couples trend pop up on your fyp. video after video, you were watching all these people melt into their partner's kiss.

you've been waiting for will to come home from his game, you unfortunately not being able to make it tonight due to other responsibilities. constantly looking back and forth from the time to see if it was any closer to the eta will gave you, and the door waiting impatiently for the doorknob to turn and see him walk through.

with what feels like eternity, will finally arrives home and you rush over to greet him.

"babe! you're finally back! congrats on the game, i saw that goal you scored!!"

appreciating you and your support, will puts down his things and starts heading to your shared bedroom. quickly following him, you stop him in his tracks before he lays in bed.

"wait wait will can you quickly help film something for me?"

he hesitantly agrees, wanting to get ready and go to bed, but still puts you and whatever you want him to do as his number one priority.

you set your phone on a nearby table, propping it up against something to capture the memory.

"put your hands up like this for me."

following suit, he does so without further questions.

immediately, your lips meet his, engaging in a passionate kiss. will didn't see this coming, but he wasn't complaining one bit. he assumed this was just another form of praise and applause from the success of his game tonight, relaying his gratitude by closely holding you against him, completely forgetting about you asking him to put his arms up.

when you two finally let go of each other and are tucked into bed will clarifies what the kiss was for, still not understanding why his arms were up at first.

explaining the trend to him, you show him all the videos you've seen, and replay the video you took as well. will was beyond glad he agreed to help you.

CONNOR BEDARD

you're not too sure if connor has seen the new couples trend floating around tiktok recently, but you were still curious to see how he would react to your kiss.

you prop your phone up somewhere nearby the couch connor was currently sat on.

"hey connor can you get up real quick?"

complying to what you asked of him, he stood up and found your phone suspiciously stood up like it was recording him.

"can you put your arms up like this?" as you raise your arms to the side.

red flags are raised in connors mind -- the camera pointing at you two, you asking him to put his arms up, and a stick nearby that was completely unrelated to what you were about to do. he's seen this before on his own for you page.

"wait...i know what you're doing!"

"oh" feeling a bit defeated as you wanted to see his reaction.

"you're going to posture check me and then tickle me! absolutely not!"

it clicked to you that he assumed you were going to do the prank that was trending a few months ago.

"what? i wasn't going to do that! i promise you no tickles will happen. you have my word"

"you promise?"

"i never break my promises."

connor reluctantly puts his arms out, trusting that you would keep to your promise and not tickle him. keeping to your word, your lips meet his, and all his initial guards fell. his arms fall to wrap around you, realising that he could trust you entirely.

when your kiss finally breaks, his arms don't leave their position, still wrapped around you.

"i really thought i you were going to hit me with a tickle attack for a sec."

"i told you there would be no tickles."

"i know. i can always trust what you say."

"mack, i have to go now," you said, trying to keep moving.

"i love you. say it back," he insisted, arms still pressed against the window.

"alright…love you. now i really have to go," you said, thinking the exchange was over.

but mack wasn't about to let it slide. he froze for a moment, realisation dawning. "where’s the 'i'? you forgot the 'i'! i'm coming with you now,” he declared, sprinting to the passenger side and flinging the door open before you could protest.

"i'm either getting my 'i' or i'm coming with you," he said, crossing his arms with mock seriousness, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. you groaned, laughing, as he plopped into the seat beside you, a big smile planted on his face.

as you pulled out of the driveway, mack leaned over the console, closing some distance between you two. "next time, don't even try to sneak out without your full 'i love you.' it's non-negotiable," he teased.

"oh, so now you're the love police?" you laughed, shaking your head.

"exactly," he said, nudging your side. "and trust me, i take my job very seriously."

by the time you pulled into the grocery store, you and mack were laughing quietly, shoulders brushing, the earlier rush forgotten. even something as simple as a missing "i" had turned into one of those little moments you'd both smile about later.

WILL SMITH

it was a late morning when will had to leave for practice. he lingered by the door, hand on the doorknob. "okay, i gotta go now. i'll see you later this afternoon. i love you," he said, his voice carrying a familiar warmth. you waved him off, purposely leaving out the "i love you" in your response to see what he would do. "okay, see you! drive safe,” you said with a sly smile.

just as he reached for the lock, he froze mid-motion, brows knitting together. "wait…something's missing," he muttered, stepping back inside. "i love you."

"yeah, me too! you better leave now or you'll be late," you replied, trying to sound casual. but he didn't move. instead, he dropped his bag and slid onto the couch next to you. "you're forgetting something," he said, a playful edge to his tone.

"am i?" you asked innocently, though the grin on your face betrayed you.

"you need to say it back. what if something happens? you never know," he insisted.

"i did say it back; you just didn't hear me," you countered quickly.

"uh…no, you didn't. i would've heard you. why do you think i came back?" his voice was dripping with sass, but his eyes were twinkling with mischief.

you scrambled for an excuse. "oh, well, i said it in my mind. it's the thought that counts!"

"uh, well, does it look like i can read your mind? that was really mean. you hurt my feelings," he said, mock-scolding you, arms crossed but still smiling.

you rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your face anyway. "fine, fine. i love you," you admitted, finally leaning your head on his shoulder.

will's grin stretched wide, triumphant, as if he'd just scored a goal. "finally. took you long enough. you better say it with more feeling next time."

"i do say it with feeling!" you laughed.

"hmm…you'll have to prove it," he teased, pulling you into a tight hug before finally heading out the door for practice.

and just like that, a little playful argument became one of those moments you both secretly lived for -- proof that love doesn't always need words, but does feels sweeter when they're spoken anyway.

FRASER MINTEN

you slip out the door in a hurry, muttering something about errands, appointments, or just stuff you needed to do. fraser meets you at the doorway, a small grin tugging at his lips. "i love you," he says casually. you wave it off, distracted.

"uh…love you too," you murmur, distracted, not really meeting his eyes.

fraser frowns just a little as you rush past him. "okay…that was weird," he mutters under his breath. "did i…say it wrong?"

he watches you leave, the click of the door echoing through the apartment. he sighs, running a hand through his hair. maybe he came on too strong this morning. maybe you're annoyed with him. the thought nags at him, twisting quietly in his chest.

throughout the day, he goes about his usual things, but everything reminds him of you. the empty couch. the quiet apartment. even the tea he's making feels half-empty without you. "did i…do something?" he mutters to himself, shaking his head. "no, no. it's fine. you're just busy."

hours later, the sound of keys jingling makes his chest lurch. the door swings open, and there you are, bags in hand, hair messy from the wind.

"hey," you greet, a little breathless.

fraser leans against the counter, a small smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes are soft, almost questioning. "hey," he says quietly. "you're back. is everything okay?"

"yeah…i'm fine. just ran some errands and went to an appointment," you say, setting the bags down.

fraser steps closer, brushing your arm lightly. "okay…good. i love you, by the way. did i say that this morning? i said it this morning, right?"

"you did," you laugh softly. "and i love you too. i'm sorry i was so rushed this morning."

he lets out a quiet, relieved laugh, shaking his head. "thank god. i thought maybe i said it wrong or…or you were mad at me or something."

"mad at you?" you tease. "me? never."

"good," he says, grinning now, wrapping an arm around your waist. "because i spent all day worrying about it. now i can relax."

you lean into him, smiling. "next time, i'll try not to make you overthink."

"yeah, please," he mutters, resting his head lightly on yours, eyes closed, finally at ease. "i'd like that."

CONNOR BEDARD

connor's at the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, sneakers squeaking slightly against the floor. "alright, i'm off," he says, glancing back toward the living room. "see you later, okay?"

you're in the next room over, just a few steps from the front door, and you hum or shuffle a little with whatever you were doing -- but you don’t say anything.

he pauses, grin tugging at his lips, tilts his head, and pushes the door open wider. "oh…right." he speaks a little softer now, like he's trying not to overdo it. "i love you."

still nothing.

connor blinks, then laughs softly. he calls out a little louder this time. "i love you!"

silence.

he frowns, pacing slightly near the door. "okay…maybe you didn’t hear me the first time," he thinks to himself, a spark of mischief and frustration in his voice.

"I LOVE YOU!" he yells this time, voice bouncing off the walls. he leans toward the living room, peering in as if his volume alone will carry the words.

you smirk from your spot, not responding, and connor tilts his head, eyes narrowing playfully. "hm…maybe i need to make it really loud," he thinks, hopping on his heels, gesturing dramatically toward you.

"I SAID I LOVE YOU!" he shouts, voice almost vibrating with energy. "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?!"

he shakes his head, laughing to himself, before jogging a few steps back into the hallway toward your shared room. you hear him shuffle around, muttering, "alright…just making sure…you didn't…forget. yeah…just making sure. i love you!”

you lean back in the chair, rolling your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. he doesn't just want the words for himself -- he wants to make sure you feel them too.

after a moment, his voice softens, playful now, teasing just a little, "alright…you better say it back next time…don't make me do all the yelling again, okay?"

you grin, shaking your head, and finally, soft but audible, you say, "i love you."

there's a pause, then an audible exhale of relief, followed by a grin you can almost hear. "that's more like it," he murmurs, voice warm. "took you long enough."

for a second, he didn't react. not because he didn't hear you -- but because he was processing what you had just said.

then he lifted his eyes to your face slowly. "you other boyfriend."

you nodded, far too composed for his liking.

mack leaned back, letting go of your wrist, studying you the same way he studied opponents before a big game. there wasn't anger in his expression. there wasn't panic either. there was calculation.

"interesting," he said evenly. "what's he do?"

you just shrugged. "stuff."

that made the corner of his mouth twitch. he shifted closer instead of farther away, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. "does he know about me?" he asked lightly.

you tilted your head. "maybe."

he let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

if you had been watching closely, you would've noticed the small change -- the competitive spark settling behind his eyes. mack wasn't dramatic, he didn't spiral. he competed.

"alright," he nodded once. "that's fine."

"that's fine?" you repeated, surprised.

"yeah," he said, reaching for your wrist again and brushing his thumb over the bracelet. "just means i've got motivation."

you tried not to smile. "motivation for what?"

"to do better."

the confidence in his voice wasn't cocky -- it was calm. assured. like he already knew the outcome.

you cracked first, laughter spilling out as you admitted it was a joke. mack didn't laugh immediately. he just looked at you for a second, then shook his head slightly.

"you're lucky i trust you," he said, but there was a grin threatening to form.

"you were jealous."

he scoffed softly. "i wasn't jealous."

a pause. "...i just don't like losing."

he pulled you a little closer after that, fingers lacing through yours, eyes flicking down to the bracelet one more time.

"tell your imaginary boyfriend thanks," he added casually. "he just started a competition he can't win."

WILL SMITH

will noticed the nails halfway through telling a story. he was mid-gesture, hands moving dramatically, when he caught the glossy colour flashing under the light. his words slowed. then stopped.

he reached for your hands without thinking. "a couple hours ago. my other boyfriend paid for them."

the sentence say between you two for a beat.

will blinked.

at first, he looked genuinely confused -- like he was waiting for the rest of the joke. when it didn't come immediately, his posture shifted. he leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, studying your face.

"your other...what?"

you shrugged. "he's generous."

there was a flicker of something in his eyes -- not jealousy exactly, but something sparked in him. he wasn't territorial by default, but he was wired to compete. ever since he was a kid. and the idea of someone else claiming credit for something on you?

that didn't sit right with him.

he squeezed your hands once before letting go. "okay," he said slowly. "so this other boyfriend of yours...does he have good taste, or did you pick the colour?"

you hesitated and that was all he needed.

a grin tugged at his mouth. he leaned closer, bumping his shoulder against yours. "yeah, that's what i thought."

you tried to keep a straight face, but your smile cracked first.

will laughed softly, shaking his head. "you thought i was gonna freak out, didn't you?"

"maybe a little."

he examined your nails again, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "they do look good though," he admitted. "tell your imaginary boyfriend he did fine."

"imaginary?"

"oh, absolutely," he said, smirking now. "but next time? i'm paying. can't let some fictional dude outdo me."

FRASER MINTEN

fraser noticed the shirt you were wearing before you said anything. as you two were walking out of the rink together, his bag slung over his shoulder, when his eyes lingered on the fabric. it wasn't something he recognised.

"that's new," he said quietly.

you glanced down. "yeah. my other boyfriend got it for me."

he stopped walking. not dramatically. just enough.

when he looked at you, his expression didn't change much -- steady, calm, unreadable. "...your other boyfriend."

"mhm!"

the hallway noise felt distant suddenly. fraser didn't rush to respond. he watched you instead, taking in the way you avoided eye contact just slightly. the way you were waiting for something.

a reaction.

instead of giving you one, he adjusted his grip on his bag and resumed walking. "okay."

you frowned, not expecting that reaction out of him. "okay?"

he looked back over at you, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "is this where i'm supposed to be jealous?"

you bit back a smile. he slowed near his car and turned to face you fully now. his fingers brushed lightly over the sleeve of the shirt, smoothing the fabric absentmindedly.

"it looks good," he said. "he's got decent taste."

you blinked. "that's it?"

fraser's mouth curved faintly. "you're not good at lying, you know? i saw your nose twitch."

"my nose twitch?"

"yeah, your nose twitches every time you lie. have you never noticed?"

you had a shocked expression on your face. seeing your reaction, fraser's composure cracked, laughter spilling out.

he shook his head gently, "you really thought that would work?"

"maybe...i didn't know my nose twitched when i lie. and to think you never told me!"

he stepped a little closer, not invading, just grounding. "you've got a couple other tells, but i won't reveal them just yet. if there was another guy," he said evenly, "i'd already know."

there was no edge to it, no insecurity. just certainty.

CONNOR BEDARD

conner immediately noticed the hoodie you were wearing. it wasn't his. and he was very aware of what was his.

the two of you were sitting close to each other, shoulders brushing, when he tugged lightly at the sleeve. "where'd this come from?"

you didn't hesitate. "my other boyfriend gave it to me."

connor's hand stilled. he looked at you slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly. "your other boyfriend."

"yeah."

there was a brief pause where he actually processed it -- running through the possibilities like he would before a faceoff. tone analysis. body language.

he leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms, and raising a brow. "does he play?"

you hesitated for a second.

his jaw tightened as soon as he saw your hesitation, "right."

connor shifted closer without thinking, his knee pressing lightly against yours. subtle. reclaiming space.

"how good is he?" he asked calmly.

"very."

he gave a short, almost amused exhale. "point total?"

you blinked. your mind went completely blank, not expecting this reaction from him.

"yeah that's what i thought," he muttered.

you broke first, laughing, and connor shook his head faintly, reaching for the hoodie sleeve again and tugging it lightly. "you're funny."

"you were jealous there for a second, admit it."

"i wasn't jealous," he said automatically.

you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes met yours this time, a flicker of jealousy behind the calm. "maybe a little."

it wasn't dramatic, it wasn't loud. but even if there had been another guy, connor would've treated it like a matchup. and he would've won.

"okay," he said, already sitting straighter. "that's good. that's responsible."

"and," you continued, stretching the word, "the guy recommended premium air."

the room went quiet.

mack blinked once. then twice. "premium… air."

"yeah," you said. "he said it’s better for the tires. so i paid for it."

"you paid for air?"

you shrugged. "it was only a little extra."

mack leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands lacing together. his jaw tightened -- not angry, just deeply offended on your behalf. "there is no such thing as premium air. air is air. you can’t just upgrade it."

"i mean," you said, biting your lip, "he seemed convincing."

"that man scammed you," mack said immediately. "that’s not okay. that’s-" he stopped himself, exhaled through his nose. "how much extra did he charge?"

"i think like $80 per tire."

mack physically winced. "i’m calling them."

you laughed. "you don’t have to-"

"i absolutely do," he insisted, already reaching for his phone. "i’m not even mad at you. i’m mad at him. this is why people don’t trust mechanics."

you couldn’t hold it anymore. "mack."

he paused. looked up at you. "what?"

"i didn’t actually pay for premium air."

silence again.

"…what do you mean?"

"it’s a prank,” you said, smiling wide now. “i know premium air isn’t real."

mack stared at you for a long second, then leaned back with a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face. then he shook his head, a reluctant smile breaking through. "i can't believe i fell for that."

you laughed. “you love me.”

he reached out, tugging you closer. "unfortunately,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, "yes. even when you lie about fake air."

WILL SMITH

will was halfway through lacing his sneakers when you dropped the line like it was nothing.

"by the way," you said, scrolling on your phone, "i had to pay extra for premium air in my tires today."

he froze.

slowly, he looked up at you, one lace dangling from his fingers. "premium what?"

you didn't look at him. "premium air. apparently it's better for longevity."

he laughed once -- sharp, disbelieving. "no, no. you're messing with me."

you finally met his eyes, perfectly serious. "why would i mess with you about tire maintenance?"

will leaned back against the locker bench, grin creeping across his face. "because that's not a normal thing. that's like saying you paid for deluxe oxygen."

"they had a whole chart," you said. "blue arrows. a lot of words."

"oh, a chart?" he nodded solemnly. "say less. that's science."

you smiled to yourself.

will shook his head, laughing now, but there was something competitive in it, like he'd just been challenged. "how much did this premium nonsense cost you?"

you told him the price.

he let out a low whistle. "nah. absolutely not. you just got played."

you frowned. "is it that bad?"

"it's very bad," he said, standing now, animated. "that's like getting charged extra for the ice being cold. i could've gone in there with you."

he paced a little, clearly working himself up, then stopped short, analysing your face.

"wait...you're smiling," he said slowly. "you only smile like that when you're lying or about to lie."

you blinked. "excuse me."

"dud you actually pay for premium air," he asked, "or are you just trying to see my reaction again?"

you broke. "you got me. it's fake."

will stared at you -- then burst out laughing, doubling over slightly. "omg, i knew it."

"you absolutely did not."

"i did!" he pointed at you. "i immediately knew. i was just playing along."

you raised an eyebrow. "you fully stood up and started pacing."

"that was commitment," he said proudly. "i'm an entertainer."

you laughed as he pulled you in, arm slung around your shoulders. "you're lucky," he said, pressing a kiss to your head, "because if you'd actually paid for premium air, i'd be chirping that mechanic for the rest of his life."

"and me?"

he grinned. "i'd still love you...but i'd never let you live it down."

FRASER MINTEN

fraser noticed something was off the moment you mentioned the car.

not because you sounded dramatic -- you didn't. you never did. it was the way you said it so casually, like it wasn't worth attention, that made him look up from what he was in the middle of doing.

"i had to get my tires filled today," you said. "they offered premium air, so i just went with it."

he paused. "premium air...?"

"yeah," you replied. "they say it helps with performance."

fraser frowned slightly, not exaggerated, not panicked -- just genuinely thinking. "performance how?"

"i don't know entirely," you admitted. "less wear, i think?"

he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing as his brow creased. "did they explain what made it premium?"

you shrugged. "not really..."

that did it for him. fraser sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "okay, i'm not saying you did anything wrong," he said carefully, like he was stepping around something fragile. "but that sounds...off."

your lips twitched. "off how?"

"well," he started slowly, choosing his words, "air is just air. unless they're talking about nitrogen, but even then, that's usually just a different label. it's not premium."

you watched him intently, "so you think i shouldn't have paid for it?"

"i think," he said, sitting forward now, "that they probably charged you for something you didn't need. and that bothers me."

not angry. not explosive. just bothered -- the kind that stuck with him.

"how much extra was it?" he asked.

you told him the three figure total.

fraser's jaw tightened. "that's a lot for nothing."

"for nothing?" you echoed.

he nodded. "yeah, and i don't like that someone took advantage of you." he reached for his phone, hesitated for a second. "do you want me to call them? we could at least ask them what they meant."

you laughed, unable to hold it in anymore. "fraser."

he looked up, confused. "what?"

"i didn't actually pay for premium air."

he blinked once. "you didn't..."

"nope. i was just joking."

silence stretched between the two of you.

"so there's no premium air that you paid for," he said flatly.

"nope."

he exhaled in relief, leaning back and staring at the ceiling for a second. "i spent a full minute mentally drafting a very polite but firm conversation."

you smiled, "aww you were going to stand up for me."

"of course i was," he said, looking back at you, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "but next time you prank me, give me a warning. my stress response is very real."

you stepped closer, looping your arms around him.

he sighed again, softer this time, resting his forehead against yours. "you're lucky," he murmured, "because i really care. even about fake air."

CONNOR BEDARD

connor was sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, when you spoke from in front of him.

"i think i got scammed today."

that immediately got his attention. he looked up from his phone. "what happened?"

you set your bag down, far too calm. "i went to get my tires checked, and they recommended i get premium air."

connor tilted his head just slightly. "premium...air."

"yeah," you said. "they said it's better for your tires so i just paid for it."

he didn't react right away, just a long pause while his brain clearly ran through the logic around air.

"air," he finally said after a few seconds, "is air."

"that's what i thought too," you replied quickly. "but they just kept telling me that your tires last longer with premium air."

connor's expression turned serious, but not upset -- more analytical, as if he was watching a replay he didn't like.

"did they explain what makes it premium?"

"not really. just that it's better...than air."

he nodded once, slowly, trying to understand the situation better. "okay...how much did you need to pay for it?"

"he said $80 per tire, but gave me a discount of $60 for each."

connor blinked. then exhaled through his nose. "that's...yeah. that's not great."

he stood up from the couch, pacing a few steps. "i don't think you did anything wrong," he said carefully. "but i really don't think premium air is a real thing...at all."

"so you think i got ripped off?"

"i think," he corrected gently, "they charged you for something you didn't need."

there was a quiet edge to his voice now -- not angry, but unmistakably protective. he grabbed his phone from the couch, thumb hovering over the screen.

"i can look it up," he said. "or call them...or both."

you bit your lip, shoulders shaking slightly.

connor noticed. "why are you laughing?"

that's when you cracked. "because i didn't actually pay for premium air."

he stopped pacing around the living room. "what..."

"it's fake," you said, grinning. "another prank i saw on tiktok."

connor stared at you, processing everything again. then he let out a short laugh -- surprised, breathy, like it slipped out before he could stop it.

"you're kidding," he said.

"nope. i'm surprised you've never seen the prank come up on your feed."

he shook his head, rubbing his face with one hand. "i was about to spend my entire night researching about tire inflation."

you stepped closer to him, eliminating any distance between you two, still smiling. "you weren't mad."

he shrugged. "i was ready to be." then he looked at you, softer now. "i just don't like when people take advantage of you. even hypothetically."

your smile faded into something warmer. he pulled you into his chest, resting his chin lightly on your head. connor smiled too -- small, but real. "premium air," he muttered. "unbelievable."