#will smith x reader

every text left on read, every call going to voicemail, completely avoiding you at the group hangouts. at first you thought that he may have needed some space, that he was angry and needed some time to cool down but then your mind starts to wonder that maybe he just didn’t care enough to come back to you.

and that thought hurt like a bitch.

because on your end, despite how mad or upset you’ve ever been with him, if he called you’d still answer his calls or text so quick.

you’ve spent most of your days in bed, not even wanting to head down for hangouts with the group anymore knowing that will would be there and completely ignore you the entire night. being in the same room while he acted as if you never existed hurt more than not seeing him at all.

class then back home, work and then back home and that was how your last few days have been looking.

it wasn’t until your friend had finally had enough of your depressive state that you finally leave your house by using her birthday as an opportunity.

all you wanted to do was stay in bed and mope around with a tub of ice cream and a romcom movie in the back to give you some comfort of a relationship when yours with will felt like it was hanging by a thread.

“i hate seeing you this way y/n, come out tonight. for me please?”

and with that you knew you had no choice. you will be leaving and staying out late tonight, no exceptions which leaves you standing in a overcrowded bar wishing you were anywhere but here.

the music was blasting, people all around you having such a good time with their people but you on the other hand feeling the most miserable you’ve ever felt.

the drink in your hand barely sipped at as your friends around you joked around about who knows what. you couldn’t bother to pay attention even if you tried because your mind was currently elsewhere. you glance down at your phone, your last text sent to will stared right back at you.

you: please just talk to me will

read eight hours ago but no response.

you could feel your throat tighten up as you blink back the tears, locking your phone.

you can’t cry; not right now especially when you’re here to celebrate your friends birthday. the group spreads around, some of your friends grabbing another drink, some on the dance floor but you stayed in the booth still working on your first drink of the night.

“hey.”

you look up from your drink, your eyes locking on the man in front of you definitely older and standing a bit too close to your liking.

“hi?”

you look back down at your phone, clearly hoping he’d get the clue and walk away but of course not. your luck always terrible in these situations and now all you wished is that you didn’t respond in the first place.

“you here with somebody?”

“yep.”

“gotta boyfriend orrr?”

your heart feels like it could collapse any moment.

“yeah.”

he laughs, shaking his head. “that’s unfortunate, where is he though?”

you stay quiet, not knowing what else to say but the heaviness in your chest now doubled up more than it was before you came to the bar.

“must not be around if you’re sitting here alone.”

you stand up, trying to excuse yourself from the situation because staying quiet and dry clearly hasn’t worked in your favour so far.

“i’m good, please leave me alone.”

“oh come on now, let’s not be so hasty.”

he follows behind; trying to catch up to you.

“i’m not interested.”

he scoffs, “you didn’t even try and get to know me.”

“i don’t want to.”

you turn to leave but before you could take another step his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist hard stopping you in your tracks.

you freeze.

“i’m just trying to talk.”

his grip tightens slightly and you hiss at the pressure around your wrist.

“let go of me, what the fuck?”

“relax.”

“i said let go!”

you yank your arm harder, managing you get out of his hold stumbling back. your breathing begins to falter and all you know in the moment is that you need to leave.

you turn around and bolt towards the doors, clutching your wrist tightly to yourself. you can hear your friends calling for you but you don’t seem to care, all you need in that moment is to get out of the club.

the second you step outside of the bar, the tears begin streaming down your face. you take a deep breath, trying to regulate your breathing but it wasn’t working and it all just hits you at once.

the fight.

the silence.

the guy grabbing you.

you just needed will, you just want your boyfriend.

with shaky hands, you pull out your phone finding wills contact and hitting the call button.

its rings a couple of times before going to voicemail.

your stomach drops as you try ringing him again.

please answer.

straight back to voicemail, you bite back a sob that ripples through your body now. hands shaking you try one last time. straight to voicemail this time.

and that unanswered call hurt the most because that means he was ignoring you. your legs begin to shake underneath you as you take a seat against the curb, wrapping your arms around yourself as you break into sobs.

then another name crosses your mind.

macklin.

you find his contact and hit call not expecting him to answer so quick.

“hey y/n, what’s up?”

the second you hear his voice, you break down in sobs again.

“mack.”

“hey— hey woah. what’s going on?”

you felt like you couldn’t breathe, everything just becoming too much for you to handle.

“mack.”

“hey— i’m here. slow down for me.”

you try your best to calm yourself down, trying to get the words out as quick as you could without sobs tearing through you.

“some guy— some guy grabbed me.”

the line goes dead quiet.

“what?”

you could hear muffled movement in the back, “what do you mean grabbed you?”

“he wouldn’t leave me alone mack, he grabbed my arm and i told him to stop.”

you let out another shaky sob.

“where are you?”

“i’m outside.”

“okay— okay good. stay where you are.”

the calmness in his voice makes you want to cry more and before you could think the words came slipping out.

“i called will.”

“yeah?”

“i called him mack, i called him three times.”

your voice breaks as you continue, choking back a sob. “and he didn’t answer.”

what you didn’t know is that will is sitting with macklin, listening to every single word over the phone standing up so quickly the second he hears your sobs on the other end. that every word was hitting him like a bus.

“i needed him. i needed him and he didn’t answer.”

will felt as if he could throw up. every bit of anger he felt about the argument had completely vanished. all he knew was that you were crying and that you needed him and he didn’t fucking answer.

“where are you?” macklin asks and you give him the name of the bar you were at.

“does he hate me?”

will freezes as he hears those words.

“y/n—”

“because i don’t know why else he won’t talk to me.”

will felt like his heart has been ripped out of his chest as macklin looks at him with a look he can’t exactly read.

“he doesn’t hate you y/n, i promise.”

his voice is firm, like he’s trying to get it through to you.

wills already moving beside him unbeknownst to you, grabbing his keys but he doesn’t miss the last part of the phone call.

“mack.. i just want him.”

“i know, i know y/n. just stay where you are.”

-

you stayed sitting on the curb, not trusting your legs one bit to be standing. you wrap your arms around yourself, face buried in your knees that you barely hear your name being called.

“baby?”

your head snaps up once you hear his voice. the second you see him and how concerned he looked you can’t help but sob, getting up as quickly as you could with your shaking legs into his arms.

wills arms wrap around you without a second thought, pulling you tightly against him. “i’ve got you.”

“will.”

you can’t make out anything else, sobs taking over your body. you don’t even know what you’re crying about more. whether that will finally came or just everything finally catching up to you.

you cling to him tightly, afraid he’s going to disappear if you let go.

“i know, i know. i’m so fucking sorry.”

“i called you will.”

“i know baby.”

“you didn’t answer.”

will can physically hear his heart crack at how broken you sounded because he didn’t have an excuse. he was angry and immature when all you needed was him.

“i’m so sorry.”

you buried your face deeper in his chest and for the first time in days will lets himself hold you as tight as he possibly could.

-

the entire drive wills hand never left your leg; every few seconds he glanced over to make sure you were okay.

once you both finally get inside the apartment, you’re out of it. will follows behind you to the bedroom, grabbing one of his team issued shirts standing in front of you.

“arms up.”

you do as he says, too tired to even argue against anything. his hands slowly pull the dress off your body; wills eyes landing on the bruise that’s littered around your wrist.

“fuck.” his hands gently brush over the bruise, his heart breaking at the sight of you. the bruise on your arm making the whole thing finally sink in.

someone put their hands on you.

you needed him and he wasn’t there.

“will.”

“i was so angry about the stupid fight. so fucking petty and you needed me and i should’ve answered.”

you blink back tears, looking down at your fingers.

“i thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

will kneels in front of you leaning down to eye level, hands resting on your thighs.

“what?”

“i thought maybe you were done with me.”

“baby-”

“you wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t answer. i thought you stopped loving me will.”

wills hands come up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. his eyes teary as they lock with yours.

“don’t ever think that.”

“will—”

“i was angry, and i acted like an idiot but i never stopped loving you. not for one second, i don’t even think im capable enough to ever do that.”

your lips wobble, “really?”

he lets out a watery laugh, “i’m so in love with you y/n and i’m so sorry that i ever made you doubt that.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally start streaming down your cheeks and this time for a whole different reason. tears of relief after five days of thinking you lost your boyfriend.

will wraps his arms around you, pulling you down into his lap placing kisses against your forehead. “i’m so sorry.”

“i’m sorry too will.”

he shakes his head, pulling you back from his chest locking his eyes with yours.

“hey no, don’t apologize for any of this.”

“but i—”

“no.”

his hands come up to caress your face, resting his forehead against yours as he lets out a shaky breath.

“i love you, i love you so fucking much okay?”

you nod but will shakes his head.

“no baby- i need you to use your words. i love you, do you understand that?”

“yeah, i love you too will.”

he leans closer, his lips pressing against yours. you melt into the kiss immediately, hands coming around his neck to pull him closer to you. he pulls back a bit, resting his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, can I do the chicken parm,” he says easily, glancing at Mack as he points to himself, silently telling Will the same for him. “Can I make that two, actually?” Will says, nodding a bit as his eyes flick down to your finger which is pointing at what you want on your menu. “And my wife will have the vodka rigatoni.”

The side of the room you and Mack are sitting on goes dead silent, your head snapping toward him. Next to you, Mack’s eyes go comically wide at the exact same moment yours do. He looks at you, and you look at him. Then, both of you slowly turn back toward Will.

Your fiancé, meanwhile, is just nodding into the phone like he has not just dropped a bomb in the middle of ordering Italian.

“Yeah,” he says to the person on the other end, completely calm. “And can you add an order of garlic knots too?”

Mack is staring at him like he has just witnessed something medically concerning, and you are pretty sure you are too. And as Will ends the call, setting his phone on the coffee table, he leans back again, not saying a word to either of you.

“Uh, what was that?” Mack asks, and the question causes Will to blink in confusion.

“What was what?”

“You just said ‘my wife’ like it was nothing.” Mack says, sitting up a little straighter now.

“Okay?” Will says, glancing between the two of you, looking genuinely confused by this being a topic.

“Okay?” Mack repeats. “That’s your response? Okay?”

You can feel heat climbing into your face, because there is something about the total lack of care that gets you. There’s no teasing tone, no pause, no look to see your reaction first. He just said it like he didn’t even notice.

“You can’t just say that,” you say, your voice feeling small, wobbly almost.

“Why not?” Will asks, his mouth twitches as he takes in the shocked expressions.

“Because I’m not your wife.”

“Engaged is close.”

“No, it is not, that’s skipping arguably a very important part.” Mack disagrees, making a noise like he can’t believe his best friend doesn’t see the problem.

“You did want the rigatoni, right?” Will questions, and that completely derails you for a minute.

“Well… yes.” You start, your face feeling so hot you could probably cook an egg on it. “But Will, that’s not the point.”

“It’s what you wanted, I don’t see the big deal here.” He says, kicking his feet back up on the coffee table as he watches a bit of the game on the tv.

“You’re impossible.” Mack aims at his best friend, dropping his head back against the couch with a groan.

You are still staring at Will, still in shock, in awe. Still red in the face and honestly starting to sweat a bit. He catches it, finally giving you one of those lazy smiles that has the power to make you smile even on your worst days.

“What?” He questions, and he would never admit it, but seeing you like this is half of the fun.

“You said it so casually.”

“Because it felt casual.” He says, his arm finding its way behind you again.

“Can you get all of this mushy stuff out of the way before my dinner gets here? If you guys flirt in front of my chicken I’m going to chuck it at your head.” Mack says to Will, scoffing slightly as he looks back down to his phone. You could only guess he’s lighting the Sharks group chat up with what just happened.

You try to ignore the way your chest has gone all soft and weird over two words, but it does not work. And the thing that is almost as shocking as being called his wife, is that he’s not flustered or backtracking, hell, he doesn’t even seem interested in defending himself.

—

The second time it happens, Grace is in town. She comes down for the weekend, and by Saturday afternoon the three of you are out shopping, carrying too many bags and stopping every few blocks because Grace sees something else she wants to drag you toward. It is fun and loud and easy, full of teasing, slightly too much caffeine, and Will pretending he is not just there to carry things.

Eventually, you duck into a grocery store because Grace wants snacks for later, and Will insists on grabbing stuff for dinner. So you are standing in front of a shelf full of pasta sauces, comparing jars while Grace debates noodles a few feet away. Will grabs a jar of sauce, slipping it into the cart and starting to walk.

“No, not that one.” You say, grabbing it out of the cart and putting it back on the shelf.

“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, turning his gaze to you as your eyes scan the shelves.

“You always pick that one.”

“And?”

“And it’s too chunky, it freaks me out.” you say, reaching past him to take a different jar off the shelf. “This one is better.” Will looks at the jar in your hand for maybe half a second, debating whether or not he wants to tease you about the smoothness of pasta sauce, but he chooses against it. He just nods, and swaps them without argument.

“You’re right. Happy wife, happy life.”

Grace stills, you freeze with your hand still hovering between the shelves, and Will just continues on like nothing happened.

“Excuse me?” she says, way too loudly, all thoughts of noodles leaving her head. “No,” she says, already laughing. “I must have heard that wrong.”

“What did I say?” Will asks, his wide grin telling both you and his sister that he knew exactly what he said.

“You called her your wife, in the pasta aisle.” She dead pans, shock and surprise so evident on her face and in her voice.

Will just stares at his sister like she is the one being weird. “And?” He says with a shrug, leaning against the cart.

“Can we maybe lower our voices?” You ask as you feel your face getting hotter by the second, not wanting to make a scene in a grocery store.

“Does he do this all the time?” Grace asks, pointing between the two of you delighted.

“Sometimes.” You supply.

“Sometimes?”

“More than sometimes.” You mutter.

Grace makes the most dramatic noise in the world and grabs your arm. “And you let him?”

Will answers again before you can. “She doesn’t stop me.”

“That is not the same thing,” You say, trying to defend yourself.

“Why don’t you stop him?” Grace asks the question as she narrows her eyes.

You open your mouth, but then close it, no words coming out. You never thought in the pasta aisle you would be having this conversation, but here you are. The siblings wait for you to respond, Grace still floored, and Will still leaning against the cart, waiting for whatever bullshit excuse he knows you’re going to try and supply. He knows how it affects you, he sees it on your face every time the words ‘accidentally’ slip from his lips. But you come up short, no explanation will cover your tracks, because the truth is embarrassingly obvious, and Grace sees it.

“Oh my god,” she says, everything falling into place in her mind. “You like it.”

“No, I don’t.” You hesitate as the lie leaves your mouth.

“You do,” she says immediately. “That was way too slow.”

Will is smiling now, small and smug and fond in equal measure.

“Don’t.” You say, pointing your manicured finger at him.

“I didn’t say anything.” He says, holding his hands up in defense.

Grace starts laughing so hard she has to grab onto the cart for support. “I cannot believe this.” But she is still laughing as you move on to the next aisle, and every time she catches your eye after that she starts grinning all over again.

—

The worst part is that it gets under your skin for the rest of the day. Not in a bad way, but in the kind of way where your skin feels flushed everytime you think of it.

Happy wife, happy life.

By the time the teasing stops, dinner is ate, and the sun has long since set, Grace is in the guest room, and the apartment has gone quiet. You are both in bed, the room dark except for the small lamp on Will’s nightstand. He is lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, while you curl on your side facing him, one hand resting on his chest.

For a little while neither of you say anything, but you break first.

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Will asks, glancing down at you.

“You know what.” You say, propping yourself up a bit so you can see his face clearly. His hair is messy against the pillow, and it takes everything in you not to run your fingers through it and forget about it all.

“Ah, you must mean the pasta sauce.” Will says, and he can’t keep the cheeky look off his face as you gasp.

“I’m not talking about the sauce, William.”

“Woah, full name?” He gapes for a second, but then he cocks his head, looking into your eyes. “You mean calling you my wife?”

You press your lips together, already a little embarrassed that you are bringing it up at all. “Yes.”

“Why would I care?” He asks, looking like he almost doesn’t understand why everyone is so shocked by this.

“Because-“ You start, but you honestly aren’t too sure what to say. He looks at you for a second, expression softening into something quieter. There is still the amusement there, but underneath it is that steadiness he always gives you when he is being real.

“Because?” He asks, waiting for you to continue, but you don’t. You just look down, at a complete loss for words. “No baby, I don’t care that I’m saying it because you’re gonna be my wife,” he says simply. “I know you’re not yet,” he confesses as his fingers slide up and down your back. “I just don’t feel weird about it.”

“You don’t think people will think it’s strange?” You ask him, your heart speeding up, and your eyes making their way back to his.

He lets out a short laugh. “People do think it’s strange. Mack looked like he was about to pass out the other night.” That pulls a laugh from you. “And Grace almost yelled in the grocery store.”

“She did yell in the store.” You correct, your pointer finger tracing small shapes on his bare chest as you smile. But then your voice softens again. “Still. It doesn’t… I don’t know.. embarrass you?”

“Why would I be embarrassed?” Will ask, his brows drawing together like the question itself does not make sense. You don’t know how to answer that, and maybe he can tell that because he answers for you. “I love you,” he says, his fingers going to your chin so your eyes would meet his. “I’m going to marry you. You’re the person I think about when I think about home and my future and all of it. So why would I be ashamed of calling you what you’re going to be?”

You stare at him, at a complete loss for words. And Will just smiles softly, the teasing gone from him. His hand comes up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. “Does it freak you out?” And the level of sincerity in his voice hits you like a blow to the chest.

“No,” you say softly. “It doesn’t freak me out, it’s just,” you look down at his chest for a second, fingertips smoothing over his peck. “You say it so easily.”

“Because it is easy.”

You laugh a little, but it comes out shaky around the edges. “You know that makes it worse, right?”

“Worse?”

“In a good way,” you mumble and Will’s face changes, it is subtle, but you see it. He cocks his head, almost like he wants to hear you say it again. You make a small sound and hide your face against his chest. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You say with a whine, as he laughs softly, one hand sliding to the back of your head to hold you there.

“So you do like it.” He jokes, but then yelps as you pinch his side, shoving you softly as you both laugh. “I hope you know it’s not some joke,” he says quietly. “I’m not saying it to mess with you.” His fingers move, tracing slowly along your back. “Sometimes it just comes out.”

The room feels very still all of a sudden, and you glare at him weakly as he just grins and leans up enough to kiss you, soft and slow. When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours.

“I can stop,” he murmurs. “If you want me to.”

That gets your attention, and because it is late, or because your heart too full of love to lie, you whisper, “I don’t want you to stop.” Will goes still for half a second before he smiles, and it is soft and bright at the same time.

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."

If you knew one person who hated pda in front of others, it was your boyfriend, Will.

At home it was one story. The second the front door clicked shut behind you, he’d be on you; arms wrapping around your waist from behind, chin hooking over your shoulder while you tried to kick off your shoes, lips brushing the side of your neck like he couldn’t wait another second.

He’d pull you down onto the couch with him, long legs tangling with yours, hands sliding under your hoodie to rest warm against your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles until you laughed and squirmed.

He’d kiss you slow and deep like he was making up for every minute you’d spent apart, murmuring against your mouth how much he’d missed you, how pretty you looked even in sweatpants and his hoodie that swallowed you whole.

He’d cuddle into your side during movie nights, head on your chest, one hand always finding yours to lace your fingers together, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Sometimes he’d just hold you from behind while you cooked, swaying slightly like it was a slow dance, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder blade whenever you reached for something on the counter.

He hated the thought of having his hands off you.

But the moment you stepped outside; it was a completely different story.

In public, Will kept it subtle. Always touching, but never made it obvious. A hand resting low on your back as you walked through a crowded bar. Fingers brushing yours when he passed you a drink. His knee pressed lightly against yours under the table at dinner with teammates.

He’d drape an arm across the back of your chair, thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder, but nothing that screamed couple in the way other couples did: sloppy kisses, loud declarations, hands everywhere like they were staking claim in neon.

And you were fine with it. You’d been together a little over a year now, long enough that you’d learned his rhythm. You weren’t big on pda either, you didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The way he looked at you when no one else was watching, the way his eyes softened the second you walked into a room, the things he’d whisper to you when it was just the two of you was enough.

He wasn’t embarrassed of you. If anything, he loved showing you off in his own way. He’d introduce you to new people with his arm casually looped around your shoulders, proud smile tugging at his lips every time someone complimented how good you looked together.

He’d text you links to articles or tiktoks with captions like “Us” and half of them were disgustingly couple-y. He just didn’t want other people seeing the parts of him that belonged only to you. The greedy way he held you at home, the way he’d bury his face in your neck and breathe you in like you were oxygen.

Tonight you and Will went out with a few of his teammates to the bar a couple blocks from the rink that had become your unofficial spot. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something you all learned to enjoy going to. You’d dressed like you always did for a place like this: nothing too revealing, nothing too casual.

Will included you in every conversation like he always did. He’d lean in when Macklin was ranting about a bad call from the last game, repeating the punchline so you could laugh too, or he’d nudge you gently and say, “Babe, tell them what you said about that hit exactly.” His voice easy, and his eyes stayed on you longer than usual.

When the bartender came over, Will ordered your usual without asking and then slid it toward you with a small.

A little while later, you moved on the barstool. “I’ll be right back,” you murmured, slipping your hand from his.

Will nodded once, but as you stood, he reached over and tugged your glass closer to his spot, fingers brushing the condensation like he was guarding it. His other hand lingered in the air for half a second where yours had been before dropping back to the bar.

Once you came back from the bathroom after quickly fixing your lip combo in the mirror light, touching up the gloss that had faded from sipping your drink, you found Will still perched on his barstool, facing his teammates.

If you’d gone straight back to your own seat next to him, his broad back would’ve been turned to you the whole time. But the second he caught sight of you weaving through the crowd, his arm reached out without hesitation.

His fingers found yours, locking tight, and he tugged you gently toward him instead of letting you slide back onto your stool. “C’mere,” he murmured.

You let him pull you in, stepping right between his spread thighs until your hips brushed the edge of the stool. Your hands landed on his chest for balance, as he looked up at you.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, even though he knew.

“Bathroom,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “Took longer than I thought, someone was hogging the mirror.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and then he leaned in. The kiss was slow, sweet, nothing rushed or sloppy. Just his lips pressing to yours like it was the most normal thing in the world, his one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed locked with yours at his side.

Your breath caught. Will almost never kissed you in public, not where anyone could see. For a heartbeat you froze, surprised, but then you melted into it, leaning forward until your forehead brushed his when he finally pulled back.

He didn’t say anything about it. Just handed you your unfinished vodka soda with a small, crooked smile.

You turned with him so you were facing the group again, your back settling against his chest. His arm came across your front, forearm resting easy over your collarbone, fingers splayed loose but possessive against your shoulder. His other hand found your waist, every few minutes he’d tug you closer, like he couldn’t quite get enough, even though you were already pressed flush against him.

Macklin raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his mouth. “You finally figure out how arms work tonight?”

Will just tightened his hold a little, chin dipping to rest lightly on your shoulder as he shot Macklin a lazy look. “Shut up, Mack,” he said a little amused.

You stayed like that for a while, cocooned against him, his heartbeat steady against your back. His fingers kept moving in small, absent strokes along your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your ribs every now and then.

Eventually your heels started screaming. Standing this long in them, even leaning into him, made your calves burn.

You tilted your head back just enough to murmur against his jaw, “My legs are killing me.”

Will’s arm loosened instantly. “Sit,” he said softly, kissing the shell of your ear before letting you go.

For the rest of the night, Will didn’t let the space between you grow. He kept one hand on you at all times: resting on your thigh when you were back on your stool, thumb drawing slow, mindless patterns over the denim; sliding up to play with the ends of your hair when you laughed at something one of the guys said; brushing your lower back.

Every few minutes he’d press a quick kiss to your temple, or drop his chin to your shoulder just to murmur something dumb and sweet.

You were happy for it. The warmth of his palm against your skin felt like nice in public. The guys ribbed him lightly but Will just shrugged it off with a smile and never pulled away.

By the time you both said goodbyes and stepped out into the cool night air, your cheeks were flushed from the bar’s heat and from the way his hand had stayed tangled with yours the whole walk to the car.

When you got home, the apartment was quiet, you kicked the door shut behind you, already reaching to slip off your heels, but Will beat you to it.

He dropped to one knee right there at the edge of the bed, fingers gentle around your ankle as he lifted your foot and eased the first heel off. Then the second, thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot for a second, massaging away the ache without being asked.

You watched him, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did with him. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” you asked quietly.

He glanced up, brows lifting like he had no idea what you meant. “What? I always do this.” He asked setting your foot down and standing.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “No, I mean.. being so touchy in front of everyone, kissing me like that. You never do that.”

He paused, then took your hand in both of his. Slowly he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t a guy show how much he loves his girlfriend?”

You laughed softly. “You never do it like that.”

He tilted his head, mock offended. “What? I always show everyone how much I love you.”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “but not in a way that makes Macklin tease you for ten straight minutes.”

Will’s expression softened. You pulled him down to you, as he started crawling over you until his weight settled warm and solid, knees sinking into the comforter on either side of your hips.

He braced himself on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you, but close enough that you could feel every breath he took.

“I love you,” he said simply, as if it was the easiest truth in the world. His forehead rested against yours for a second before he kissed you, the kind of kiss he usually saved for when the door was locked and the lights were off. “I just.. wanted to be close to you tonight. Didn’t want to wait until we got home to touch you the way I always want to.”

His hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “I like when we keep things private. But sometimes..” He exhaled. “Sometimes I look at you laughing with the guys, or just sitting there looking like mine, and I want everyone to know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until his chest pressed to yours. “That’s sweet,” you whispered against his mouth. “I liked tonight a lot.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “Me too.”

His hands found yours, fingers lacing tight as he settled more of his weight over you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of how you fit together.

TAGLIST: @alliwritespuck @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @iknowtonystark @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @val413 @wherethezoes-at @macka @beckieepicaz00 @carlottawllms @blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09

fans reactions X

Texts Will x Macklin

Will just shrugs, completely unashamed, and leans down near your ear. “You want something to drink?”

You nod, “Just a water, please.”

He squeezes your waist once before walking toward the kitchen, his fingertips dragging along your side until the very last second before he can't reach you anymore. Every little thing with him feels like that. Casual, like taking care of you and keeping you close are things he does without thinking anymore, they’re always at the front of his mind. 

Cat watches the whole thing with a knowing smile. “Oh,” she says lightly.

“What?” you question, not knowing where she’s going with this. 

“He is obsessed with you.”

Your face immediately warms, “He is not.”

Cat just laughs. “He walked in the door less than thirty seconds ago and already can't keep his hands to himself.”

“That is not true.”

“It definitely is.”

You open your mouth to defend him, but Will comes back into the room holding your water bottle already opened for you, and before handing it over he presses a quick kiss against the side of your head.

“Thank you,” you say to him quietly, before he heads off to the kitchen again to say hi to the rest of the team. 

Cat just gives you a look over the rim of her wine glass.

You sigh once he’s out of earshot, “Okay, maybe a little.”

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The night settles easily after that. Music plays quietly through the house while everyone moves between the kitchen and living room. Conversations are overlapping comfortably. It’s loud not in an overwhelming way, but a comforting way, all your favorite people in the same place, enjoying one another's company. 

To no one’s surprise, Will is attached to you through all of it.

When you’re standing in the kitchen talking to Cat and a couple of the other player’s girlfriends, he’s beside you with his hand resting absentmindedly on your hip while he talks hockey with the guys facing the other direction. 

When everyone crowds around the island for food, his thigh presses against yours the entire time. Later when you’re sitting on the couch, he drops down beside you and pulls your legs directly next to his, one arm stretched across the back of the couch behind you. 

It’s so constant you almost stop noticing it. Almost.

Until Macklin walks by, pauses dramatically and goes, “Holy shit, are you two physically capable of existing separately for more than ten seconds?”

Will doesn’t even look away from the conversation he’s having, and answers dryly, “No.”

The room bursts into laughter. “See?” Tyler points out, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Will finally looks over, completely relaxed. “What?”

“You’re clingy,” Tyler says. 

“I’m not clingy,” Will argues lightly. 

“You’ve touched her literally this entire night.”

Will frowns slightly then glances down at where his fingers are now loosely hooked around yours in his lap, like he genuinely didn’t realize he was doing it.

Then he just looks back up, “Okay?”

More laughter from everyone, and you can’t help smiling into your drink.

Because the thing is, none of it feels forced. He’s never draped all over you or trying to put on some kind of show, he just always reaches for you like it’s second nature to him. It's like he’s just more comfortable when you’re close. 

At some point while dessert is being passed around, you get up to help Cat in the kitchen. The second you step away from the couch, Will’s eyes follow you automatically.

Tyler notices immediately, “Oh my god,” he says loudly. “Look at him.”

Will tears his attention away from you. “What?”

“You tracked her across the room like a puppy.”

“I was not—”

“You absolutely were,” Macklin cuts in.

“He’s got separation anxiety,” Tyler adds.

Will rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression now, “You guys are annoying.”

Meanwhile in the kitchen you’re hearing all of it. “You love it though,” Cat says quietly beside you while drying off a plate.

“Yeah,” you admit softly. “I really do. It’s comforting in a way, knowing he’s always there.”

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Hours later, once people start heading out, Will helps finish cleaning up without being asked. Even then he keeps gravitating back toward you every few minutes. A hand brushing your back as he passes by, or his fingers squeezing your shoulder. Your favorite are the quick kisses against your temple while you’re putting dishes away.

Tyler catches one of those kisses and immediately points across the kitchen. “There,” he says dramatically. “Again.”

“Oh my god,” Will mutters under his breath.

You laugh quietly, dropping the dish towel on the counter and leaning into his side, “Leave him alone.”

“We would,” Macklin says from the living room, “if he stopped acting like your emotional support.”

Will just shakes his head, moving around you to put another dish in the dishwasher. As he passes, his hand slides across your lower back, like despite all the teasing, he genuinely doesn’t realize he’s doing it anymore.

Tyler watches the whole thing happen and bursts out laughing again.

“He did it again!” he says loudly.

This time Will finally looks mildly offended. “What do you want from me?”

“Space,” Tyler says. “Personal space. Independence. Growth.”

Will deadpans immediately, “Sounds awful. We get enough of that when I’m on a road trip.”

Everyone laughs again, including you, and he glances over at you with the smallest smile tugging at his mouth, like hearing you laugh is worth all the teasing. You just move closer to him, and wrap your arms around his waist.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Eventually the night finally starts winding down for real. Goodbyes are exchanged at the door, leftovers get packed up and distributed to everyone, and promises to do this again soon thrown around casually.

The second you grab your coat from the couch, Will appears beside you like he was waiting for it. He takes it from your hands before you can put it on yourself, holding it open behind you automatically.

“Thank you,” you mumble, smiling softly as you put your arms through the sleeves. 

“Mhmm.”

His hands settle briefly on your shoulders after helping you into it, lingering there for just a second before sliding down your arms, holding your forearms lightly as you both say goodbye. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The drive home is quieter than the rest of the night, comfortable in that easy way it always is with him. His hand still rests on your thigh the entire drive anyway, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your jeans.

When you finally get back to your apartment, you’re halfway through kicking your shoes off when he says, “Am I actually that bad?”

You glance up immediately, “What are you talking about?”

“With the touching thing,” he says, leaning back against the closed front door now, “I didn’t realize I did it that much until everyone kept pointing it out.”

You stare at him for a second because he sounds genuinely unsure now. “You know none of them actually care, right?” you ask softly, “They were just poking fun at you.” It’s not the time to debate whether that was right or wrong, but all in all you know they didn’t mean anything bad by any of it, and now you’re making sure he knows that too. 

“I know,” he says quickly. “I just…” He exhales a quiet laugh through his nose, “I don’t know. I don’t wanna make you feel smothered or something.”

You walk back over to him without thinking, sliding your arms around his waist and propping your chin up on his chest to look up at him. Predictably, his hands settle against your hips almost immediately. Reflex.

“You don’t smother me,” you say quietly.

His eyes search yours carefully, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re just saying that to make him feel better.

Something in his face softens at that. You continue before he can brush it off. “I mean it. I think if you stopped now I’d actually hate that you stopped.”

A small smile finally pulls at his mouth, “You’d miss me being clingy?”

“You’re not clingy,” you correct softly. “You just like being close to me, and I like it too.”

His expression changes a little at that. Warmer somehow. “Can you blame me?”

Your chest aches a bit at how genuine he sounds. “No,” you say quietly, “Not really.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “Cause I don’t really think I know how to not do it.”

You laugh softly, “I know.”

He smiles then, properly this time, and leans down to press a slow kiss against your forehead. Even after the teasing, after the entire team spent hours pointing it out, his hands never leave you once.

He exhales a laugh through his nose before pulling you fully against him, arms wrapping around you tighter this time like now he’s allowed to. You sink into him immediately.

For a minute neither of you moves. The apartment is quiet in contrast to how the rest of your night had sounded, and now that you’re standing here wrapped up in him, you realize how natural this is too. The constant touching never feels heavy with him, it’s not demanding on either part, it never feels possessive, it’s just comforting. 

His chin now rests on top of your head while his thumbs move against your sides. Even in the middle of this conversation about how much he touches you, he’s still doing it without thinking.

“You know what the funny part is?” you mumble into his chest.

“What?”

“I don’t even notice half the time anymore.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, “I’m that bad, huh?”

“No,” you correct immediately, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Not bad, I think my body just expects you to be there now. Like when we’re sitting somewhere and you’re not touching me, I notice that more,” you admit quietly. “It feels weird.”

A smile pulls slowly at the corner of his mouth, “Seriously?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His eyes stay on yours for a second longer before he leans down and presses another kiss to your forehead, but this time slower. His arms tighten around you again afterward, like your words are the final piece of reassurance he needs after questioning himself.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Cause honestly? I think if I had to sit next to you and not touch you for an entire night I’d lose my mind.”

You laugh, your face tucking back into his chest, “Tyler would probably call that a breakthrough.”

Will scoffs, smiling, “He can deal with it.”

You can hear the smile in his voice now, the uncertainty from earlier finally gone. One of his hands slides up your back slowly to rest against the base of your neck. His hand is warm and familiar, and you melt into him even more without even thinking about it.

It’s that instinctive reaching for each other, like no matter where you are, a crowded house full of teammates or a quiet apartment at midnight, both of you are always unconsciously trying to close the distance.

Fraser Minten (FM93)

Walks closer to the road

You never really noticed he did it until one of your mutual friends pointed it out. You were hanging out downtown Boston with Fraser and a couple friends, holding hands and catching up. The boys had went into a store wanting to look while the girls opted to stay out, sitting on a bench surrounded by high-rise buildings and the sound of the city. You were scrolling on TikTok, trying to find a video you had saved to show one of the girls when she spoke.

“He did that a lot, huh?” You looked up, confusion on your face. “Does what?” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “he always puts you in the sidewalk side with him closest to the street - like, all the time.” You were surprised, and it probably showed on your face as she replied, “you haven’t noticed?”

You really hadn’t. Maybe it was because you never payed that much attention to it in the moment, or that it had become second nature. When you thought back to memories of you two walking together down streets and sidewalks, you do remember him trading places if you weren’t already furthest from the road.

And it wasn’t just roads or sidewalks either - if you were at a family skate or at a rink while back in Vancouver, he was always closest to the center when you were skating side-by-side (meaning when you weren’t trying not to fall with him leading you), making sure you weren’t in the area that could get you knocked over.

You had brought it up to him that night in your apartment. You were both dressed in your pyjamas - Fraser in a pair of plaid pants and a grey sweatshirt, glasses perched on his nose while you were in a pair of his boxers and t-shirt, fluffy socks you had gotten from Chantal the year before at Christmas on your feet. He had gotten to grab some ice cream for you both, and when he sat down and pulled you to curl into him, you asked him.

“Why do you always make sure you’re closest to the road?” He had looked at you, cheeks red like he’d been caught doing something bad. “What do you mean?” He replied, spoon in his mouth. “You always make sure you’re closest to the road or I’m on the sidewalk side when we’re walking. Why is that?” Fraser just shrugged, taking the spoon out and getting more ice cream, “I don’t know. Just want you to be safe - didn’t really realize I was doing it. Does it bother you?”

You just smiled, dipping your spoon into the ice cream as well, “no. Quite the opposite actually.”

Connor Bedard (CB98)

Holds your bags

Connor holds your bags with no complaints, and does it out of his own will. You never asked him, not even once, not before it started and not during. Even if he gets teased for it online or by teammates, he just shrugs. It doesn’t matter if you have one bag or a million, heavy or light, he grabs it before you can even reach for it.

Bags full of things at the mall? Connor looks like a bellboy, bags on his arms from stores like Victoria’s Secret and Aritzia. Even if he has his own bags (probably from Lululemon or whatever stores sell shirts), he takes yours from you. At first you fought it, but you’ve now just learned to accept it.

Connor loads and unloads suitcases into cars and overhead cupboards in planes. Photos of you two leaving airports or hotels with Connor carrying everything and you carrying nothing except your purse or both of your phones had gone viral, and people had been upset at you - calling you lazy and ungrateful - until a reporter asked why he did it.

“I don’t know. Just don’t want her carrying things,” he scratched his neck, “plus, have to use my strength for something.”

The only time you ever carry things is when Connor is too drunk to remember. When he’s tipsy he still insists to carry your bag, or to give your bag to someone else so you don’t have to carry it (which makes you blush out of embarrassment). When he’s plastered he doesn’t realize or remember anything, and usually ends with you having to put him in sleep clothes or brush his teeth.

Any other time, he carries any and all bags you have. Doesn’t matter if they’re from a lingerie store or “girlie” store, he doesn’t bat an eye.

Will Smith (WS2)

Opens the car door for you

Will Smith was raised to be a gentleman. Always be respectful and polite, say your please and thank you’s, make eye contact, use your manners, and always open the door for someone (especially a woman).

You were surprised when he showed up on your first date. Most guys you had been with or been on a date with stayed in the car while you got in, but Will texted you when he was coming, met you at your front door, and followed you to the car, opening the door. You felt like a princess (as stupid as that sounds). That type of stuff should be bare minimum in a relationship, but it wasn’t. He got out and opened your car door again when you arrived at the restaurant, was respectful and nice the whole night, and opened your car door two more times. You ranted to your friends over the phone with blushed cheeks when you got back.

When you got together, you figured that this habit would end. That he didn’t have to “whoo” you anymore, and that once this honeymoon phase was over he’d go back to what he usually was like. But it didn’t. Because that’s how he was all the time.

Even if you’re in a hurry, or Mack is waiting in the car, Will will get out of the car and open your door for you. Fans had caught this and it became a thing on social media, always posting photos or videos of it happening. One time while you were texting Will’s mother Colleen, she had sent a video that had came across her timeline. She had sent a text along with it saying “you let me know if he stops and I’ll kick some sense into him”. You had chuckled and replied that he probably won’t stop.

Macklin Celebrini (MC71)

Always buys two snack options

You know the videos online of girlfriends saying they don’t want anything and then wanting whatever their boyfriend has? That’s you. You’re indecisive and you know - you’ll say you aren’t hungry and then want whatever Mack is having, or you’ll say you want one thing and want something different. Macklin has learned this about you, and after dating for awhile he knows how to solve this problem every time. You say you dont want anything? He gets extra of whatever he’s getting so you can have some.

When you’re driving and you pass a gas station, or you’re in a hotel and you pass a vending machine, and you say you want something? He’ll get what you want and something else you like (or another of one of his snacks) so you won’t be upset. He doesn’t worry about the extra money that it adds up to, he wants you to be happy. You both never really noticed it.

But others did. During the sleepover with Will and Toffoli, Tyler had brought it up after the younger boys had ordered their cookies and milk. He was on his cot, Mack and Will snacking away when he spoke, “when you do this with Y/n do you get another type as well or just this?” Mack had made a noise of confusion not knowing what he was talking about, but Will did.

“You always get two different things or something for her when you’re out, even if she says she doesn’t want anything.” Macklin just shrugged, going back to his phone. “I don’t know, I just know what she likes and want her to be happy.”

This was definitely going on the offside podcast when Tyler was on.

Matt Rempe (MR73)

Makes sure you get the first bite/waits for you

We all know Matt is a big guy, and he gets hungry. And before he was dating you, he wouldn’t wait to dive into his food - whether that was at home with his family or out with his teammates. But when he started dating you, something inside him screamed that he should wait for you. He didn’t know why he had that feeling, he just did.

If restaurants served him his food first, he’d just wait, his attention fully focused on you. You noticed it one time, and told him he could eat, but he just smiled at you with a lovesick look on his face, “I don’t need to. I’ll wait.” You raised an eyebrow, “you sure? It could get cold.” He just moved his hand from his lap to on the table, palm facing up and made a motion for you to put your hand in his, “I’m not worried about that.”

If you were staying in, food being delivered or reheated, Matt would wait. Sometimes you’d heat it up, put it on the coffee table in front of the couch and mumble that you’ll be back, he lets it sit there until you come back. Shared food and dessert he always lets you have the first bite. Late night drives to get ice cream from a specific gas station near you and sharing snacks on movie nights always looks like Matt letting you eat first.

He even does it at family dinners, the whole family diving in while you and Janice were still in the kitchen. He waited, hands in his lap, his eyes looking like a lost puppy waiting for their owner (according to Alley). When you came back and sat down, you kissed his cheek and when you finally ate, he did too.

Michael Kesselring (MK8)

Will switch shoes with you

The first time it happened was back in Utah. You had gone out to a bar with the team, you opting to walk and Michael coming because he would never let you walk alone if he could be there, day or night (especially at night, though he knew you could handle yourself). He had bought you some cute, black kitten heels a couple weeks before because he noticed you looking at them on a tab on your computer, and you never ask for anything (even though he tells you not to worry and he wants to spoil you, but you still don’t ask), so he bought them and you came home to find the exact pair you were eyeing on the bed.

Maybe you should’ve thought about what it would be liking walking to the bar, spending the night in them, and then walking back to your apartment, but you were too excited about them. Michael had a feeling you would get sick of them, but didn’t say anything. The night was spent dancing and drinking, Michael having an arm around your waist or midline, or around your neck swaying to the music. You were there for a couple hours, and close to the time you had planned to leave you had migrated to a stool at the bar, still present but getting off your heels.

When you walked back together, you tried to be discreet about the discomfort you were feeling, but the backs of your heels were causing blisters to form and the front were squishing your toes. You refused to accept defeat, asking to sit on a bench before you continued. Michael was leaning against a lamp post, watching you. You were rubbing your heel, about to put them on when he sat down beside you, “switch with me.”

He took the heel out of your hand and moved to remove other and placing them on a space on the bench beside him before untying the laces on hos sneakers. “Michael . . .” You trailed off, not knowing what to do. But your boyfriend is stubborn, shaking his head while saying not happening and placing the sneakers on your lap. You were too tired to care that they were dirty and sticky with alcohol, but you probably were dirty too - sweaty from dancing and drops of alcohol falling on you earlier.

You put the shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you could to not trip because your boyfriend was a giant and had giant feet. You look up once you’re done to see Michael standing in your heels, feet barely fitting in them. One part of you wanted to laugh, while the other wanted to tell him to sit down and give you your heels back, but you could tell from the look on his face that he knew what you were thinking and that it wasn’t going to happen.

You managed to make it to your shared apartment, slowly due to the tripping hazard from the other’s shoes, but no one complained once. Michael never protested or blamed you, and he didn’t even really talk about it after, just setting the shoes down and getting ready for bed lie usual.

Since that night you tried to wear more comfortable shoes to bars and restaurants, but sometimes the shoes went too good with the outfit and Michael even encouraged it, knowing how the night would end. He didn’t care, and he wants you to be happy.

Tears of relief came out of your eyes when you ran into her arms after your last recital. A summer went by of the boys playing hockey and you playing in the yard, watching with a frown wishing to be apart of that. Ellen came to you one day, sweat beading down your forehead in the heat but refusing to leave your brothers, Luke looking at you, with a flyer of a new cheer place opening in the town. She never imagined that’s what would be your thing, but it was. Cheer stuck with you throughout elementary school, even as you tried soccer with your best friend— you did that until the last year of middle school. Ultimately giving soccer up so you could focus on cheer in high school, and you were pretty damn good at it.

It was hard for the family though, hockey games between the three boys and practice’s with you that lasted hours, plus the games you performed at, then the big competitions. And it was really hard on you, when your brothers weren’t there in the stands, nor was your mom. It was usually your father when the family couldn’t be there, but his cheers were loud enough for them.

Your brother have always been protective, you knew that. In elementary school, Quinn and Jack both got in trouble for punching a boy at lunch because somebody yelled that he was your boyfriend.

“They punched him, mom! He was bleeding!” You cried in the back seat of the car, Quinn was sitting in the front with a glare as Luke sat between you and Jack with wide eyes after just witnessing you jump over to wack Jack in the head repeatedly.

Ellen sighed loudly from the driver seat, she looked in the mirror to see you— eyes blood shot red and a permanent frown on your face. She looked at Quinn quickly, his fist were still clenched in his lap as he looked out the window.

“Yeah, he deserves it.” Jack grumbled from his seat, Ellen was ready to pull over and yank you off of your brother but instead of throwing punches you yelled.. something that never really left the four of your guys mouth during arguments. The two Hughes parents had seen a lot of fights between the boys and you, arguing though… never happened often, just opting to use your fists, legs, and teeth sometimes.

A sob tore through your mouth, Luke was watching your carefully. A hand on your leg, trying to calm you down but nothing seemed to help.

“I hate you!”

Ellen gasped so loudly, she coughed. Quinn unclenched his fist in shock, Luke’s jaw dropped watching as you sucked in a deep shaky breath as your mom pulled into the driveway, you hiccuped through your sobs and yanked your leg away from Luke, he frowned. Jack’s lip parted and snapped his head towards the back of his mom’s seat.

She yelled your name, you sobbed louder trying to unbuckle yourself but couldn’t see through the tears, Luke noticed and put his hand between the two of you and pressed his finger down and unbuckled you. Not bothering to grab your book bag, you threw your door open and slid out with another sob and ran into the house.

That was the first time, more followed, especially when you grew older. Your mother worried when you grew into your beauty, how overprotective the boys came when you entered high school… then the first boyfriend— the break up was worse. You didn’t show up to school for a week.

They were all protective in their own ways, you loved them for it but sometimes truly hated it. Quinn was protective in a way with words, a threatening sentence towards somebody and they froze… wondering if it was true or he was giving out wordless threats. Jack was protective in a physical way, he always had been. Sometimes it scared you: the way he easily got himself into trouble for you.

Luke though was different, being your twin. He was a mix between the both of them but usually it was never with the other person— it was with you. While Quinn was glaring at the person and speaking lowly to them or Jack was throwing them against a wall or throwing punches, Luke was standing beside you, making sure you were okay, protecting your feelings.

So when hockey came around and more boys came into your life because of them, one night they all came into your room. Well, Jack and Quinn did— Luke was already lying on your bed, in his pajamas under your comforter as you sat at your desk trying to study. Key word, try. Luke barged into your room an hour before, freaking out about some girl from school.

The trying to study went out the window when the other two barged in and got comfortable by their brother, you tried to focus on the paper you had been staring at for the past ten minutes but their eyes were burning a hole into you.

“What?” You spat, slamming your pencil down and turning to look at them, Jack raised his eyebrows at you as Quinn shook his head. Luke was scrolling on his phone, you assumed he stopped being a pussy and was texting the girl.

Jack raised his shoulders, “Just wanted to come hang with our favorite sister, is that such a problem?”

“I’m your only sister… and you never wanna hang out with me.”

Quinn frowned for a second, Jack’s eyebrows raised at the sudden bluntness in your words. And Luke’s fingers paused on his screen, side eyeing you.

You stared at them, noticing their facial expressions. “Not like that! Just you guys are so busy with hockey—“

“You’re busy with cheer.” Jack cut you off, sitting up a bit. You saw the panic on his face, god, he was so dramatic sometimes.

“I know.” You gritted out, leaning back into your chair, “I’m just saying— it doesn’t matter—“

“Yes it does.” Quinn jumped in, you glanced at him. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Oh my god. Because I didn’t mean it like that! What do you want?” You sighed out, throwing your arms out in front of you. Quinn looked at his brothers quickly, you bit your inner lip watching as it seemed like they were communicating with their eyes— right in front of you.

You love them, so much. More than you could ever put into words but sometimes it felt like you were on the outside looking in, Luke always tried to include you but sometimes it was so hard. They spent so much time together, while you were out at practice for hours after they got home from theirs, them sitting on the back porch together. You were too tired to bother saying hi to them, going straight to the shower and then your bed. They had a different bond, as boys and brothers, and players— something you’d never be apart of.

They were your brothers but it was different.

Swallowing roughly as Jack nodded sharply to his older brother, you straightened in your seat. They all looked at you, eyes softening just a bit.

“We just wanted to say… you know, us joining teams and all soon— our hockey friends are… y’know…”

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head with a shrug. “No, I don’t know. Use your words.”

Jack grabbed a pillow from behind him and chucked it at you, grunting quietly as you stopped it from smacking you in the head.

“You know… off limits.”

“Ew. I don’t want your hockey friends.”

That night, you and your brothers ended up in the kitchen arguing back and forth as your parents watched… attempting to soften it.

But you were right, you never batted an eye at them. Not when you walked in from practice and said hey to your brothers, nodding your head politely at their friends sitting in the living room, watching as you went into the kitchen where your mom stood in front of the stove cooking dinner, you grabbed a water and went up to your bathroom. Not when they attempted to flirt with you, ignoring your brother’s warnings to not do that.

Before you knew it, Quinn and Jack were in the NHL— something they’d always dreamed of. Quinn was in Vancouver, something that broke your heart.. him being so far away from home and his family. But nothing beat watching him score his friend goal of his NHL career, nor did it with watching Jack’s.

It was the year Luke got drafted, it was the year you parted away from your home, under the same roof as your twin brother and parents to leave to join California all stars. Of course, you came home for his draft! How could you not?

You could never miss the moment when the announcer said his name, Luke Hughes for the New Jersey Devils— the same one as Jack. How Jack practically leaped over you throwing himself around your brother with excitement, tears filled your eyes as you were squeezed between the three of them.

The four of you were all away from home and it was really hard sometimes, you guys were so close but couldn’t be more proud of each other. You texted the group chat every morning and night, especially when you knew you day would be busy, just to say something to them. It was harder with Luke, you and him had never been separated since your mom gave birth to the two of you, it took a long time where you or him didn’t burst into a tantrum when you were separated for more than a few hours… sleepovers rarely happened because by bed time you or him were running to your friends parents crying for each other.

Luke called every day, knowing your schedule after the first week of you and him being separated. You and him tried your best to talk as much as you did before but you weren’t used to him being so busy in the NHL and he wasn’t so used to you being miles away from him and different time zones. Plus, the training the two of you went through and barely had the energy to pick up your phone once you walked through your front door.

The first year was the hardest.

But eventually, you and your brothers were used to the difference. It didn’t make it any harder but it worked. They constantly bugged you about any boys, especially when one time some random boy answered your phone. Sitting in your living room. His face popped up on the group face time where your brothers stared at him in shock for a few moments.. questioning if they accidentally added somebody else but it was the siblings group chat.

It was a friend from cheer.

You honestly hadn’t truly dated somebody since high school, before the world only knew you as the Hughes sister. You attempted to go out on a date from somebody you met at the grocery store, seeing it as somewhat of a normal interaction. Not meeting them at an event or on social media. They didn’t recognize you as a Hughes or being related to the famous hockey brothers.

And then….

“I’m a huge fan of your brothers work.”

You were a bit dramatic about it, sighing loudly but nodded and apparently that gave him a signal to keep talking about them— he even asked if you could call them! The rest of the date until you cut him off as the waiter began approaching the table, quickly turning around when she heard the sharpness in your voice and stood up, walking away.

He yelled for the whole restaurant to hear about the check!

You rolled your eyes as you pulled open the doors with tears in your eyes, opting to call Luke but knew he would just run into Jack’s room so you kept your phone in your purse as you walked through the streets of California.

After that night, you declined anybody who asked to take you out. Just imagining yourself sitting in the middle of a restaurant of somebody asking something about them.

You never went on a date again after and never told your brothers. They pushed you that night when you never called after the date, you decline the first call as you laid in your bed, curled into yourself watching your comfort movie, tear stained cheeks. They immediately blew up your phone and told you to answer right now.

Sending a quick text and told them you were about to take a shower, which you did so you could look a little less crazy and the crying wasn’t noticeable. You made up some lie that all he did was talk about himself, your phone set on the counter of your bathroom as you lazily did your nighttime routine. And for some odd reason, they believed you when you lied to them. You never were a good liar and they always knew your twitch when you did lie, but apparently they couldn’t see when your face was in and out of the camera.

It was one night, your roommate who you cheered with wanted to go to a hockey game. She didn’t know anything about the game until she met you, sitting with you as you watched your brothers play and answered her questions or explained what was happening. She soon learned most of it and enjoyed for when she would hear your yell from the living room that the game was starting.

“There’s a game here! It’s like an hour away, we should go.”

That’s how you found yourself at a San Jose Sharks game, your brothers couldn’t believe you were going to be cheering another team on but you just rolled your eyes and told them the Canucks and Devils would always be the team you cheered for the most. It was a good game, your friend in her element as she could watch the game and actually understand… only a couple times did she lean over and ask you to explain something.

Then… you and her were at every Sharks game, as long as you were both free. She literally cancelled a date one night when she learned there was a game, you convinced her to just invite him and you would stay home.

“No way, girl. This is our thing.”

You ended up buying a third ticket the morning of the game and gave it to her, she kissed your cheek with a bright smile. You kind of regretted it when he arrived at the rink and the two were snuggled into each and you sat by yourself, arms crossed around your chest trying to warm yourself— usually, she was snuggled into your side, shivering about the coldness she was not used to. You guessed you’d just gotten used to her warmth.

After the game, you stood behind them as they talked, “I don’t wanna go home.” He smiled at her, intertwining their hands, you rolled your eyes as she said that for the hundredth time of the night.

Digging in your purse, you grabbed your car keys and chucked them at her back. She stopped and turned around sharply, squinting her eyes at you, looking down at your keys at her feet, she slowly picked them up with furrowed eyebrows.

“Take my car and go enjoy the rest of the night.” You smiled softly at her, her smile somehow grew larger.

The guy beside her furrowed his eyebrows, “What about you?”

“I’ll just call an uber.”

Which was the stupidest thing you could’ve offered, they left you quickly after that which was an hour ago. You were still sitting outside of the rink, of course no Ubers were available, they were all picking everybody else up from the arena. A pout formed on your lips when the first one cancelled, then when the second one did— tears formed in your eyes.

Sitting on the curb, curled into yourself as you leaned your chin against your knees watching as players drove out of the arena! You could’ve cried again but you didn’t, just watched as people walked by without blinking at you. You checked your friend’s location, you could tell she was still out with the boy so you kept the messages quiet.

You were watching as people cheered across the street, all dressed in Sharks gear. Smiling softly as somebody jumped onto another person’s back with a loud ‘whoop!’

Gravel crunched beside you, you snapped your head up and saw two boys staring down at you, they looked your age. You squinted your eyes at them as they blinked at you, like you were some animal that was standing in the middle of a road.

“Yes?” You questioned slowly, one of them straightened their back when you spoke.

“Are you okay?” The other asked, hands shoved into his pockets. Their hair was damp, they were dressed nice. You moved your head so the light wasn’t blocking their faces anymore and recognized them as two players on the Sharks.

Will Smith and Macklin Celebrini.

“Oh, yeah. I’m just waiting for the Ubers to start picking people up again.” You shrugged with a tight smile, Macklin nodded softly as Will ran his hand through his damp hair, the light shining on the side of his face, he looked like an angel… you clamped your parted lips shut as you stared at him.

Macklin stepped beside the other boy, “Do you need a ride? Ubers usually take a long time to start getting people after a game.”

You sighed and looked down at your phone, you were usually in bed by now and your phone was at ten percent.

“I don’t live around here and I can’t ask for you to drive an hour after playing a hockey game.” You said softly, looking up at them again. They both shrugged, Will jerked his head and offered his hand.

“We don’t mind, c’mon.” You looked at his outstretched hand carefully before taking it with your soft hands, he squeezed yours before pulling you up, you squeezed his back before slowly pulling away. Smiling as you looked between them as they watched you tug your jacket closer to you,

“Uh, you guys have a car right?” You asked after a few moments of you three standing there, Macklin’s eyebrows shot up before he nodded.

You thought that would be the first and last time you ever saw the two, besides at the games. But that night, when Will walked you to your door, you did your nighttime routine scrolling through his social media. Something you’d never done. And it was noticeable, when your finger accidentally double tapped a picture from too long ago. You screamed as your tooth brush stopped it’s movement in your mouth as you quickly took the like back and spit your toothpaste out, running int your roommates room, ignoring the guy sitting on her bean bag.

The next morning, as you scrolled through your notifications on your balcony, a smile graced your face. He followed you.

That was just the beginning, soon after a couple dms back and forth… Will seeked you out after the game with no Macklin by his side which surprised you.

“Wanna go get some celebratory food?” He asked softly, with that boyish grin that made your stomach flip. Your friend squealed from the other side of the car, you and Will laughed at her as she muttered an apology.

You leaned closer to him, tugging on the bottom of his jacket. “I’d love too… but I do have a friend that needs a ride home.”

“She can drive, I’ll take you home.” Will shot back with a smirk, you shook your head biting back a smile and called out your friends name who rounded the car with a wide smile, Will stepped back as you threw you keys at her.

“Have fun!” She sung with a giggle, watching as the two of you walked away, fingers brushing against each other before he flexed his hand and grabbed onto yours, she squealed again before shutting your door and driving off as Will lead you to his car.

It was sudden, the change between you and him. Before, you knew it was never about being just friends but there was also no rush to be anything more. It had been a few months since the first time you and Will went out, now he was coming over and spending the nights accidentally, the two of you falling asleep watching a movie or staying up late trying to finish putting together the legos you and him bought that day when he went shopping with you, sleep was written all over his face and you told him he could stay.

Macklin came over a lot, you and him became really close too. Your roommate got along with both of them, the four of you playing uno after dinner that you and Will made in your kitchen earlier. You soon realized how competitive Mack was, almost as competitive as your friend. You and Will would watch the two of the bicker about the cards they just put down, you just leaned into Will’s touch and waited for them to finish— sometimes you and him would have to intervene.

You met the rest of the team at a barbecue he invited you to, that was the night he took you to his home and kissed you.

You felt bad. Not telling your family about him but god you loved having him without anyone knowing, but now Mack and your friend knew… and the whole Sharks team. Now you just felt like the worst sister ever. But not even did your parents know, until your mom walked into your apartment with your dad shuffling in behind her tiredly, it was supposed to be a surprise, you had a cheer event coming up and they wanted to be there.

Your father jumped when your mother screamed, you jumped up in your bed hearing the yell.

Will stood shirtless, only in his pajama pants, in your kitchen in front of your stove as he attempted to make the two of you breakfast. You threw off the comforter, running out into the living to see your parents standing in the entryway in shock as Will stared back at the.

Your mom turned towards you when you gasped, standing in his t-shirt and your pajama shorts.

“Oh my God.” You heard your friend say, assuming she came out because of the murder like scream from your mom.

The breakfast was awkward. You ended up ordering from somewhere so Will didn’t have to make more food for everybody, he attempted to leave but your mother forced him to sit at the table. It was halfway through the silent eating, the only sound being your friend’s loud gulps of her drinking. You and her kept glancing at each other every few minutes, your dad was staring at Will as he sat beside you.

“So…”

Your mom broke the silence, “How’d you two meet?”

You and Will smiled softly, turning towards each other and that’s when your parents softened up. Especially, when your whole body softened up when you looked at the boy beside you, of course they already knew who he was before that day but after that morning, they knew him personally and loved him. They were happy it was him.

You made your parents promise not to tell your brothers, they understood but told you to tell them soon… You wanted to, but you didn’t even know how to bring it up anymore— you and Will had been together for a while. Neither of you had posted anything about each other, obsessed with having nobody having their eyes on you as a couple. Nobody had seen you guys together when you went out, luckily. But you knew your luck would run out soon.

Now the hockey season was over and the family immediately made the plans to go to the lake house.

You were standing in the kitchen beside your mom cutting up vegetables for dinner, music was playing softly throughout the house as the boys sat at the table playing a card game. You and your mom would laugh when one of them would groan loudly. It was a perfect day, everyone went out on the boat together, the five of you stayed out there almost all day.. eventually you took your parents back but you and your brothers went back out. Once you came back, your mom was starting to prep for dinner, you and your brothers took showers before joining your parents in the kitchen area.

It was perfect.

Until Luke opened his mouth, “Who’s pretty boy?“

You stopped your movements, everyone paused for a moment to look at him confused. Glancing over your shoulder, Luke’s hand was wrapped around your phone, bringing the phone closer to his face.

You slammed the knife down on the cutting board and darted towards him, snatching the phone from his hands. Now everybody was watching, cards down on the table and Ellen stepped to stand behind you.

“Y’know, Luke it was cute when we were 12 and you snooped through my shit but it’s not anymore.” You gritted out, gripping onto your phone by your side.

“Language!” Both your parents sighed out, eyes snapping between their twins, Luke’s jaw dropped at your words and the scowl on your face. Jack and Quinn looked between the two of you with caution, wondering what the hell was going on. They both just assumed it was some twin fight.

Luke looked over your shoulder, your mom shrugged. “Luke, you know it’s not nice to go through your sisters phone.” She said softly, putting her hand on your elbow and pulled you back, closer to her. She practically felt the anger coming off of you, Luke’s eyebrows furrowed.

“But who’s pretty boy? He said ‘I love you’!” Luke exclaimed, you felt both of your parents look at you with soft eyes.

This is not how you wanted your brothers to find out.

Jack shot up in his seat, bee lining for your phone in your hand. He reached over your body, not expecting a hand to his face and pushing him into the table. Ellen gasped from behind you, gritting out your name.

“No, mom. I’m tired of them thinking they have to know everything!” You cried out, she softly rubbed the back of your arm with a knowing look, the three brothers froze at your words.

Jack grunted as he fell back into his seat, “So there is something to know?” Quinn kicked him under the table when you rubbed your forehead in annoyance, he was always the one to soften to argument or fight between the four of you.. not always, mostly. Only when the four of you were older, when you were kids it was all of you throwing punches and legs.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You snapped your head to your mom, “Mom!”

She gave you a look.

“Oh my god.” You muttered and sat down as she ushered you towards the chair at the head of the able, across from your father and between Jack and Luke. She looked back at the kitchen before taking a spot beside her husband who reached out and grabbed her hand.

You put your phone under your thigh, ignoring the buzz against your leg. Your brothers stared at you, Luke had hurt in his eyes knowing there was something hidden between the two of you. You couldn’t even act like there ever had been, you kept plenty of secrets between your brothers— never Luke though.

Quinn waited patiently, watching you carefully as you picked at your nails. Jack wasn’t looking at you.

“I have a boyfriend…”

Chaos erupted around the table, you dropped your head into your hands with sigh as their voice overlapped with each other and your parents voiced trying to calm the boys down.

“Who is it?” Jack turned towards you, seemingly remembering what this was about. “Who’s pretty boy?” He mocked, lowering his voice and you wanted to smack him. You almost did but your mom said you name softly, she warned how no matter what or who.. this would be the outcome of keeping this from them. Now it was time to find out how they would react about who.

You bit your bottom lip, “Will Smith.”

“Will Smith?! Men and black Will Smith?!” Jack yelled, sitting up, almost out of his chair. You slowly looked at him with a confused face. “He’s like fifty! This is illegal! Oh my god!”

You kicked his leg, “Ow!”

“Will Smith? San Jose Sharks?” You spelt it out for him, gesturing with your hands, the room went silent. Deadly silent. You couldn’t even bother to look at any of them, the dramatics of them having betrayal written across their face. You stared at the scratch on the table from the first summer at the house.

Then chaos erupted around the table, Quinn and Jack snapped their heads towards each other— eyebrows flying up so fast you bit back a chuckle, Luke’s eyes were on you though.. eyebrows raised and parted lips.

“This is absurd!” Jack yelled turning towards you finally remembering who this was about. “Since when?” His voice softened a little, eyebrows pinched together like it was all coming to him, why his little brother was much quieter.

You swallowed glancing between all of them, “A while.”

It went oddly quiet. A quiet you’ve never been used to, not with them or your home in California. You and your roommate were loud together, and growing up it was always chaos. You heard Luke swallow roughly as he clenched his fist in front of him as he looked away from your face, Quinn just stared blankly at you.

Jack broke the silence with a scoff, “You know how hockey guys are?”

You laughed bitterly, “What? Just because you three hoe around doesn’t mean he does.”

Your parents yelled your name, you rolled your eyes as your brothers looked at you with shock.

“He’s nice to me and we love each other.” You fought even though they had pretty much been silent, “I’m sorry for not telling you but this is exactly why.”

“You know we’d support you about anything… even if it was a hockey player— you know that was just a joke.”

“Bullshit.”

Ellen gritted your name out, Jim giving up on correcting you a long time ago.

“Listen, when we told you that.. yes we were being for real but not actually! Not so for real that you can’t come to us for months.” Jack said, leaning forward with a brotherly look but also anger.

Luke stayed silent.

You swallowed, “Luke?”

“I don’t— I can’t believe you kept something from me for this long.”

The room went silent again, everyone’s eyes on Luke as he looked at you. You swallowed roughly, your throat tightening. “I’m sorry.”

There was nothing else you could say, your brothers said nothing either. What else could they say? The family separated, well more of you leaving the table to go to your room and call Will while your family still sat at the table, as soon as your door shut you heard the hushed voices of your brothers and your parents trying to calm them down.

It was another hour until you appeared from the stairs, your brothers gone onto the back porch while your parents continued the paused dinner. Ellen looked up from the stove at the sound of your soft footsteps, smiling softly she gestured for you to go outside.

Holding back an eye roll you walked towards the back door and opened it gaining the attention of your older brothers, stopping their conversation. You felt small under their gaze, hand still on the handle like you might run back into the house. Quinn noticed and scooted to the side on the small couch on the porch and jerked his head, you smiled softly and sat beside him, the oldest dropped his hand onto your shoulder and squeezed it.

“So,” Jack quickly said, smacking his hand onto his thigh and looked at you with a look you’ve seen one too many times. “When do we get to meet him?” He tapped his fingers against the table, they all looked towards you, waiting.

You messed with the strings of your devils hoodie, “I don’t know, didn’t really plan on seeing him until I went back to California.”

“You can invite him to the house, Sissy.”

It was a nickname they’d call you when you were younger, it kind of drifted when you grew up, it lingered with your parents but they’d call you anything but that— unless they were feeling nice.

“I don’t know… he probably has a bunch of plans.”

“Well, ask him anyway. Just for a weekend or something.”

Two weeks later, Will was flying into Michigan and you had never been more nervous as he texted you he landed, you were sitting in the pick up line, constantly messing with something in your car or looking at yourself in the mirror or camera on your phone. You were currently looking in your console, it was messy and you cringed but couldn’t think of that when a soft knock interrupted your thoughts.

You flinched, snapping your head up and Will stood at your window with a large smile on his face— you smiled widely back. He glanced down at the handle and your eyebrows raised as you blindly reached for the handle to unlock the door.

Will slid into the seat smoothly, tossing his duffel bag into the back seat while also leaning over the middle console to pull you closer and you melted into his touch, awkwardly pulling him into a hug but it fit. He kissed your hair, than your neck, and pulled away, hand on your neck and pressed his lips against yours.

You made a small noise of relief in the back of your throat, he smiled on your lips. “Missed you so much, baby.”

You kissed him one more time before you fell back into your seat and turned your car back on, he buckled into his seat and immediately reached for your hand, your intertwined hands rested on the console the whole ride— music playing from your phone connected to the Bluetooth.

Will and you caught up on the past two busy weeks, he was spending time with family and so were you, plus a lot of the boys friends were in town like usual— luckily only Trevor and Cole were around for the weekend Will would be. You could deal with them.

You’d known the two as much as you know you’re brothers, they treated you like a sister and they were just more brothers.

“You nervous?” You asked, pulling into the familiar area of your Michigan home, glancing towards him.

Will shook his head, only humming in response. “You’re squeezing my hand pretty hard.”

He immediately loosed his grip, you chuckled bringing your joined hands to your lips and kissed them softly, Will responded by rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand, you kept his hand rested against your lips, Will felt his shoulders relax even as you pulled into a neighborhood and he knew it was yours.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

You shook your head, suppressing a smile as you drove down your street seeing the large house your brothers bought together all those years ago.

“It’s gonna be fine, they’ll barely talk to us.”

Will shook his head, leaning back into his seat with tense muscles. “No, like seriously, why am I doing this?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yes, very much. But—“

You pulled into the driveway, “Listen, they seriously—“

“Baby, I’m not scared of them.”

You stopped, “Then… what is it?”

“No, I am terrified of them actually… but like I’ve— I’ve played against them and looked up to them— fuck, not like— I don’t want you to think I’m dating you for them— I swear…. Oh my god. Take me back to the airport— I—“ Will rambled, you covered your mouth trying to hide your smile and he thought you were crying.

“Oh my god— oh my god. Baby, I’m—“

A laugh cut through his panicking, he stopped. “Will, you have to chill or they will make fun of you and they’re sitting on the front porch, you assumed they’d been waiting since you left after they begged to come with.

He actually slid down into the seat, you laughed loudly. “I’m making fun of you. Will, get up.” You grabbed his shoulder, he groaned as he straightened. “C’mon, scaredy cat.”

“Don’t call me that.” He grunted as you both opened the door, he reached bag and pulled his bag from the backseat.

Your three brothers just sat on the porch, watching as you and Will walked up the steps, his hand intertwined with yours— they didn’t feel or sense the death grip he had on you. Smiling softly, you tugged him to your side as he attempted to stand behind you.

You knew it wasn’t because he was nervous, that’s where he always stood with you. Pressed against behind you and arms wrapped around you, sometimes around your waist but usually wrapped around your shoulders and your hands held onto his wrists, every few minutes pressing your lips to his forearms.

“Brothers.”

“Sister.”

You chuckled, “You guys all know each other…. So I don’t need to do introductions.”

They all said their hello’s, you squeezed Will’s hand three times and he quickly mimicked. “So, I’m gonna show him the room and then we’ll do dinner?”

“Okay, we’re grilling.” Jack said, tipping his beer to the two of you as you stepped back with a wide smile. The three of them couldn’t deny the way their chests warmed at the sight.

But Quinn paused as your hand went on the door handle and turned, “Wait…” And you did, hand frozen against the handle and both of you slowly looked at your oldest brother. “What’s his room?”

“Mine?” You stated but it sounded more like a question, all of their eyebrows shot up and their backs straightened.

“Your room?” Luke choked out.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door, “Ugh, yes! Its only for a weekend and he always sleeps in my bed back in California—“

“We don’t need to know that.” Quinn cut you off, eyes squeezed like he was trying to forget that. “Just… no foolishness.”

You laughed, “Yes, dad.”

After showing Will your room and laying down for a few minutes, body on top of his to calm him down, the two of you stepped out onto the back porch where all the boys were, and your parents sat on the couch together, listening to something Trevor was saying.

But they all stopped when you shut the sliding glass door, Will immediately grabbed onto your hand. “Hey.”

Trevor and Cole lit up at the sight of you, Cole reached out and pulled you onto the couch next to him, your hand yanked away from Will’s, he could’ve sworn his heart was about to stop as he made eye contact with all three of your brothers and you fell into a conversation with Cole.

“C’mon.” Jack clapped a hand against the younger boy’s shoulder, Will joined them by the grill, hands in his pockets awkwardly and shy. Will could admit he’d never been shy or this awkward before, not even when he met your pants— and that was awkward.

But after they talked for just a few minutes, Will’s hands were out of his pockets and his laughter was his usual one that you loved, a small smile gracing your face even though your back was faced towards him— Trevor and Cole needing your full attention like usual.

By the time dinner was finished, Will was back by your side at the table, his focus was on something Trevor was saying from across the table, hands thrown around in the air as all the boys pitched stuff into the conversation— something about hockey, that’s all you knew before you drew yourself out of the conversation, turning to your parents. But Will’s hand rested on your thigh, your hand on top of his, he occasionally squeezed.

Soon, your mom yawned and your dad took her to bed, leaving you and the boys, you leaned back into your seat and brought your leg up.

“So…”

Cole said, leaning forward to see you, you rested your head against your hand, just observing their conversation until he did that and now everyone was looking at you.

“What?”

“How’d you two meet?” He asked, a smirk on his face, the question gained a lot of commotion, Trevor giggled. Your brothers leaned back into their seats, eyes on the two of you.

“Uh—“

“Well—“

Will smiled, “Go ahead.”

And you simply told them, how he found you on the side of the street, curled into yourself like a homeless person. Trevor laughed as he imagined the sight, you kicked him from beneath the table, and how he found you after every game until one time he finally asked you out.

“Still can’t believe you kept it from us for so long.”

You swallowed, Will squeezed your thigh. “Yeah, well it was easier being so far away.”

Jack smiled, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, we like you, Smith.”

Will chuckled, “Thanks.”

The weekend with Will went smooth, a day spent on the water, skin burnt and limbs tired as everyone walked back into the house. You and Will fell asleep on the couch together, his head pressed against your stomach and arm draped across your waist, Quinn found you two when he went to find y’all for dinner, he smiled softly before waking you up. The next day, it was calm, games played throughout the day, movie night before you brought Will up to your room as the boys went out on the lake for a late night swim. You were glad they left, you felt wrong doing anything with them in the house— too scared they would walk in.

But Will couldn’t leave without feeling himself inside of you.

The next day, you went on the lake for a short time and spent the day in the yard with your brothers and Will, they welcomed him the open arms… by the time he left— there were inside jokes between the boys and numbers exchanged.