Will Smith publicly loved many things in life; home alone, hockey, “people watching”. But off screen, he loved more. It wasn’t like he was planning on keeping his family a secret, he just had no reason to expose his children to the limelight—not that you cared. Plus, it’s not like the fans didn’t know of your existence. For years you were a blurry face in the background, a head leaned on his sister’s shoulder in her tiktoks, the woman everyone assumed was one of his cousins because you “had the same last name.” But then a fan invaded your privacy, and suddenly the whole world realized they never really knew Will Smith.
pairing dad!will smith x fem!reader Mrs Smith masterlist
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Prompt: Will can take a lot, a shove into the boards, a puck to the body, even the sharks chirping him. But, what he can’t take is someone disrespecting you, especially over things he loves that you have
requested!
Fancy lights, yelling reporters, and cameras flashing isn’t exactly your favorite way to spend an evening. However, how could you complain when you have your boyfriend at your side? Especially when you have him at your side looking like he does. His suit fits him perfectly, his golden hair falling in its normal curls, and the warmth of hockey worn hands on your back, keeping you pulled into him as you enter the ballroom of the charity event.
You smooth your hand over the front of your dress for the fifth time since you arrived.
“Are you okay?” Will asks quietly, ducking his head close enough that his lips almost brush your ear.
“Yeah,” you say, glancing up at him with a smile. “I’m good.”
His gaze drops over your face like he is checking anyway.
“You look beautiful.”
You roll your eyes, mostly because if you do not, you will smile too hard. “You already said that.” You chide, following him to the bar.
“Let me say it a thousand times more.” He says, as you nudge him with your elbow. He grins, then takes your hand as a photographer starts motioning for both of you to smile for the camera.
It doesn’t take long for a reporter to wrap up with Misa and float over to Will. You recognize him from past events, and as he starts asking Will questions you slowly sneak out of your boyfriend’s grasp.
He looks at you, eyes crinkling for a second before you just wink at him. Trying to silently tell him to answer the questions and come find you when he’s done. And even though you can tell he’s a little stiff, he gives a silent quick nod before laughing along with the reporter.
This is how the night starts. Will finding you easily again talking to Misa at the bar, a glass of red wine in your grasp as the younger player talks to you about also hating these events. Will barely has a minute to open his mouth, barely has a minute to ogle you for the millionth time tonight before a reporter wants to hear from him and Macklin.
“Go on, I’ll be okay.” You reassure him, a guilty look falling over his expression.
“I’m sorry baby.” He says, but Misa looks to him with a small head nod towards Macklin and the reporter. A silent, I’ve got her, to Will.
“Go, before poor Mack perishes over there.” You joke, taking a small sip out of your wine glass, your dark lipstick staining the rim. In that moment Will wants that lipstick staining his flushed skin instead, but he snaps out of it, kisses you for a second too long to be casual, and makes his way to Macklin, not really caring at all if the color transferred to his mouth.
—
As you and Misa continue your conversation at the bar, you begin to feel it. The weird warmth when you can tell someone is staring. Not a stare of recognition, but a stare of judgment. You know why immediately. Your tattoos are visible tonight in your black dress, not all of them, but enough. The ones along your legs, the one wrapping softly around your arm and going to your collar bone. You love them, and Will loves them, too. He traces them absentmindedly while you are curled up on the couch, he kisses them all constantly, he makes sure they’re covered in sunscreen when you’re outside. They are a part of you, sometimes you forget they are even there until someone points them out.
So you did not think about them when you had originally walked into the ballroom tonight. But you’re thinking about them now, you’re thinking about them as you watch your boyfriend joke and laugh with his best friend in front of a camera, you’re thinking about them even as Will spares you the tiniest glances and flirtatious smiles, you’re thinking about them as you can tell someone is staring at them.
Then someone steps up beside you, and at first, you think nothing of it. But it’s the way she just stands a little too close, the way Misa can instantly tell you’re distracted.
The woman has a small recorder in one hand, and a press badge hangs from a lanyard.
“You’re Will Smith’s girlfriend, right?” she asks you, not seeming to mind that she’s interrupting a conversation.
“Yes.” You say politely before turning your attention back to Misa.
The woman smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. “I thought so.” She says, her eyes glancing down at your legs. Then your arm, then near your collarbone. “Those are real?”
You blink, the question catching you off guard for a second. “My tattoos?”
“Yes.” She says with a disapproving tilt of her head. “It’s an interesting choice for tonight.”
Your fingers tighten around your glass, Misa stands up straighter, the need to defend you clouding his eyes.
You could ignore it, in fact you should ignore it. You know how this goes. It takes one reaction, one flash of discomfort, and suddenly the story is not about what someone said to you. It is about how you respond.
So you keep your voice even, you hold your hand out secretly to Misa, as if telling him to not say anything.
“They’re part of me,” you joke, motioning to your skin. “So yes, I find it hard not to bring them.”
The reporter gives tiny laugh, but not joyfully, instead in a mocking and condescending way.
“That’s one way to put it.”
Your gaze instantly tracks Will, he is in a conversation, though his body has shifted slightly in your direction. Like some part of him can feel you looking for him.
The reporter follows your gaze, as Misa gives you one look before following your eye sight as well. He knows in that moment what he needs to do, and he excuses himself as he tries not to look in a hurry to reach Will.
“He’s very young,” she says, snapping you out of your trance.
“I don’t think I understand.” You say, trying your hardest not to take a big swig of wine out of anxiety.
“Will.” She says, like you’ve very obviously missed the point. “He’s young, has a clean image, big future. And there are a lot of people who are very invested in what that future looks like.”
Your stomach dips, and you say nothing.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she starts, a snake like smile pulling at her lips like she knows her words will hit a mark.
“Yet I get the sense you will be anyway.” You say, a piece of your control slipping.
“Do you really think you’re what Will needs?” she asks. “I mean, no offense, but with the tattoos and the whole look, don’t you worry you might, taint that?”
The word hits like a slap to the face. Taint. Your lungs constrict, but she keeps going, because people like that always do when they sense they have hit a mark.
“It’s just that he’s got this, wholesome thing going for him. And you must know how people talk, you don’t want to be the reason sponsors start asking questions.”
Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, and suddenly your eyes are darting to Will, who’s listening to what Misa is explaining. Your eyes beg him to see you, beg him to understand, they scream help me.
“Oh, dear. Don’t look like that, I was only-“
“Don’t.”
The voice is low, calm, but carrying a sense of authority.
Will.
“What did you just say to her?” he asks.
“Will, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” The reporter says, lifting her hands slightly even with the recorder still tucked in one palm.
“No.” His voice stays even. “I don’t think there has.”
You stare at him, your heart beating wildly as a few people nearby have started to notice something is going on.
“I was only making a light comment. It wasn’t serious.” She tries to defend herself.
“If it was so light you shouldn’t have a problem saying it again.”
The reporter’s face tightens, and your breath catches. You know Misa must have told him the basics, but here he is, unmoving and unflinching as he uses a tone you’ve only heard from him a few times. You know he must have caught some of it on his way over as well, and he takes a step forward, not aggressively, but protectively. His hand finds its home on your back, his thumb moving against you like he is reminding you he is there.
“Let me be very clear,” he says. “She doesn’t taint anything.” He spits the word out with anger. The reporter opens her mouth, probably to try to defend herself, but Will doesn’t let her speak. “She is not a problem for my image. She is not something I need to hide or be ashamed of. She is the person I love. She is kind, and smart, and stronger than anyone in this room. And those tattoos you decided to insult? They are a part of her, which means I love them too.”
“Will, I think you’re taking this very personally-“ she starts, but Will cuts her off.
“I am,” he says immediately. “You were cruel to my girlfriend, I am taking it personally.” He says as he turns slightly, angling himself so he’s standing just ahead of you. “And for the record,” he continues, “the idea that she is below me because she has tattoos says a lot more about you than it does about her.”
The reporter’s mouth snaps shut as she looks between the two of you, her pride shrinking with the fact that people are definitely watching now.
“I apologize if she felt-“
Will scoffs immediately. “You don’t apologize for how she felt, you apologize for what you said.”
But then someone else steps in, one of the event organizers, you presume.
“Is there an issue here?” She asks, looking between the three of you.
“Yes,” Will says. “She is making inappropriate comments about my girlfriend.”
Your ears start to buzz, you don’t hear the next words, only watch as the reporter is escorted from the event.
“Baby,” he says, his voice softer now as it breaks through the mist around your brain. “Follow me.”
You don’t say anything as you press your lips together and give him a small nod, and Will does not ask twice. He keeps your hand in his and guides you through the ballroom. He does not rush you, but his eyes appear to say, not now, to anyone who looks at him.
The second you are alone, you sigh and Will’s arms are around you immediately. You step into him without a second thought, burying your face into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Do not apologize.” He says sternly but not angrily. His fingers circling comfortably on your hot skin.
“I froze.”
“So?”
“I just stood there.” You say, embarrassed you didn’t have the fight in you to standup for yourself.
“You were shocked because someone was being cruel.” His hand moves over your back slowly. “That’s not something you have to apologize for.”
Your fingers curl into his jacket and he pulls back just enough to move his hands. His thumb brushes your wrist, right over the start of one of your tattoos.
“She doesn’t know you, baby.” he says. “She had no right to make you feel small.”
You look down at your arm, at the ink you loved this morning, at the skin that suddenly feels too visible. Will notices and he shifts, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. Your breath catches as he follows it all the way up your arm with soft kisses, all the way to your collarbone.
“You are not below me,” he says against your skin. “You are not bad for me, honestly you are way out of my league.”
“Will.” You say softly, your slightly watery eyes locking with his.
He cups your face with both hands. “I need you to hear me baby.” he says. “I don’t care about what people think is perfect. You’re perfect, and we’re perfect together. That’s all I want, that’s all I care about. And I swear to God, if anyone ever tries to make you feel like that again, I’m throwing that glass of wine at them.”
You smile through unshed tears, pulling at his suit collar to bring his lips down to yours.
Then the hallway door opens, and you both break away from each other only slightly and turn.
Macklin steps out, scanning the hallway with concern written all over his face. Behind him is Misa, who looks equally as concerned.
“Hey,” Macklin says carefully to you. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.” You say to him, before turning your gaze to Misa. “Thank you.”
“I should have said something sooner-“
“You did the right thing man.” Will says, cutting off his self doubt.
Macklin shifts awkwardly, then gestures back towards the ballroom. “Also, not to make this weird, but half the guys are pretending not to hover by the doors.”
Will sighs, before his eyes turn back to you. A silent question in them.
“Let’s go.” You say, motioning back towards the ballroom as you pull your hair forward, the waves covering your collar bone.
“Don’t cover them,” he says softly, almost pleading. And you watch the emotion floods eyes. He brings his hands up, pulling your hair behind your shoulders as his eyes light up with joy at the art of black ink that is fully on display once again. “I love you. I love you so much.” He says, not caring about his best friend or his teammate still behind him, even as they start to make a silent exit back into the ballroom.
“Kiss me, Smith.” You say, a smirk on your face. You know your lips taste of the red wine you were drinking earlier, and Will groans into them as his lips find yours.
“I love you.” He whispers, taking his lips off yours and kissing under your ear. Then he repeats it, kissing your cheek, your temple, your nose, your forehead, then back to your lips. “And for the record,” he murmurs, “I love your tattoos.”
“Someone is going to catch us.” You joke trying to ignore the feeling of melting under his touch and words, and squirming slightly at how ticklish his lips feel against your flushed skin.
“Let them.” Will says, clearly not bothered by anything. And as his lips continue to move around your skin, everything around you melts away. You’re not just the girlfriend of a famous hockey player, you’re you. And not only is that your favorite version of yourself, but it’s Will’s as well.
Prompt: it’s officially Father’s Day, which means you can finally tell your husband the secret you’ve been keeping for two weeks
thank you to all the people who have commented and asked for a part two, here it is! part one
You wake up before most of your house does, which when you have a young child is a very rare occurrence.
And as you stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, you smile, because it’s finally the day. The day you can tell Will. His side of the bed is cool, and you know he’s been in the kitchen for a little while. He kissed your cheek telling you to go back to sleep as he carefully got out of bed.
And this morning, this sunny and warm morning, this is yours.
You throw your hair up and out of your face, slipping on a pair of socks before your feet have to touch on the cold hardwood floors. Then you make your way over to the closet, hidden in a box with a new pair of shoes is the navy blue box. It’s been hidden and wrapped for just about a week now.
You smile, rubbing your thumb over the ribbon you tied around it with shaky hands. You thought about doing some big reveal, but you opted to do it privately, giving you and Will the option to tell your son together.
So, as you make your way down the stairs, careful to go slowly and not wake up your son, you see Will in the kitchen.
He’s leaning against the counter top, shirtless with light grey sweatpants on. He sets down his mug when he sees you appear, setting down his phone as well. His blue eyes roam up and down your frame. You watch as he takes in the black socks bunching a bit by your ankles, and the old BU shirt you are wearing which makes him smirk.
“Well.” He says, looking exactly like he did all those years ago when you met him outside of Boston College. “Good morning to me.”
You let out a snort, blushing slightly, walking up to him and kissing him softly.
“Happy Father’s Day.” You say, the box still hidden behind your back.
“Thank you.” He says, kissing you again. “You look pretty good in that shirt.” He says, and you playfully roll your eyes at Will’s enthusiasm.
“You say that every time I wear anything of yours.” You joke.
“Because it’s true.” He says back with a little shrug, and that’s when he really notices your arm behind your back, how it’s been planted there since walking down. “Alright.” He says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you hiding?” He asks you, motioning to your back.
You stop moving a bit, giving him a small smile before bringing the box around your body and holding it out to him.
“Your gift.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders, trying your hardest to act nonchalant.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, baby.” He whispers, and you shrug again. “You’ve already given me everything I could ever want.”
The words hit you like an arrow. Your entire body floods with warmth, and damn your early pregnancy hormones because you’re about to burst into tears at those words.
“Just open it.” You whisper, and you can tell that Will drops the teasing act at the softness of your tone. He can see this is serious, see the anticipation in your eyes. So he nods, planting a quick thank you kiss to your temple before unraveling the ribbon.
He rips off the navy wrapping paper, and he sets the box down on the counter top so he can open it without dropping whatever is inside. And as Will finally opens it, you stop breathing.
You watch his eyes as he takes in the contents of the box. Of the sonogram pictures given to you by the doctor, of the onesie that reads, ROOKIE OF THE YEAR, and of the little card that you wrote, officially a father of two, surprise!
Will stops breathing, his shoulders lock, his eyes go wide. It takes him only a moment to realize what he’s seeing. And as his gaze flicks to you, he swears he could black out.
“Baby.” He starts, his shaking hand reaching for the pictures. “You’re pregnant?” He says, voice cracking on the last word.
You nod your head, wiping away a tear that falls from your eye.
“Yeah, I’m pregnant.” You confirm, and you watch as Will grips the counter top like his knees are about to give out.
“We’re having another baby?” He asks, fully turned to you now. And his eyes are flooded with unshed tears, and even though you know he knows, you confirm again with a small nod.
And that nod is what is Will’s undoing. His face crumples, and he rushes to you so fast. Pulling you into his arms as he squeezes you tightly. He plants kisses all over your face, and he’s sniffling as tears are falling down his cheeks.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe this.” He says through a laugh and more tears. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
Your hands go up to his face, keeping it still for a second so you can really look at him. But you aren’t able to get any words out before he’s kissing you on your lips. His hands going to your cheek, your neck. And then he’s pulling away, laughing in happiness as he looks down to your stomach.
“I love you so much.” Will says to you, kissing you again before resting a shaking hand on your stomach. “And I love you too.” He whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. He drops to his knees, kissing your stomach through his tattered old BU hockey shirt. The same shirt that he saw you wearing after your first time staying over. The same shirt that he saw you wearing as he texted Mack saying I’m going to marry her.
Your hands immediately run through his golden curls, and you shake with happy tears.
“How long have you known?” He asks, blue eyes gazing up to yours.
“Two weeks. I wanted to save it for your surprise.” You say, another wet laugh coming out of you. Will stands back up and pulls you back into him. Your feet are off the ground as he slowly spins you around the kitchen. Whispering I love yous and I’m so happy into your ear.
“And here I thought I was going crazy wondering why you suddenly stopped the coffee.” He jokes, and you laugh as he wipes your tears away with his thumb.
“I’m surprised that didn’t give it away.” You joke, and Will agrees with you. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, and his heartbeat is fast.
“We’re having another baby,” he murmurs against your hair.
“Yeah.” You whisper.
“Our son’s going to be a big brother.” He says as he pulls back just enough to look at you. “Does he know?”
“No.” You say, placing your hands on his chest. “I wanted to tell him together.” Will’s eyes fill again at your words. “He’s our son, and this is our baby. It seemed right to do it together.” You say, and Will exhales, shakily as he kisses you.
Then from upstairs, your son’s door creaks, and both of you freeze.
“Mommy?” His tiny voice comes from the hallway upstairs.
“We’re down here, bug!” You call, and Will releases you from his grip as your son makes his way slowly down to you both.
“Happy Daddy day.” He says as he appears on the stairs, walking down then slowly as he hangs onto the railing. His truck pajamas are a bit twisted, and his hair is standing up at odd angles. Will crouches down and scoops him into his arms. Your son snuggles into Will’s chest, and you can see your husband physically restraining himself from breaking into tears.
“Thank you buddy.” He says, kissing his forehead as he continues to hold him.
“Are you sad?” Your son asks, noting the red eyes and wet cheeks of his dad. His small hand coming up to poke Will’s damp cheek.
“Not at all, bud. I’m happy.” He says, and your son looks over to you like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“Why?” He asks, and Will looks at you, then to your stomach. You nod your head, coming over to stand with Will and your son.
“We have something to tell you.” You whisper to him, and as you adjust the sock on his foot he lights up.
“Is Uncle Mack coming over?” He asks, and you and Will both chuckle before Will responds with a probably.
“Not at this moment, bud.” Will says finally. And you give Will a face as if telling him to say it. “You know how sometimes we talk about families getting bigger?” Will asks, and your son nods. Will opens up his mouth to continue but his lips shake. And his eyes shed fresh tears as he looks away for a second.
“Bug.” You start, brushing your son’s curls away from his eyes as Will silently tells you to say it. “Mommy and Daddy are having another baby. You’re going to be a big brother.” You say, and you both watch as the lightbulb appears above your son’s head. He gasps loudly causing you both to laugh.
“Where is it?” He asks, and Will response only seems to confuse him. “Why’s it in there?” He asks, pointing to your stomach.
“That’s where baby’s are in the beginning.” You say.
“Yeah, bud. You were in there too.” Will says, and your son looks shocked.
He giggles into his little closed fist before saying, “No I wasn’t!”
Will laughs at his response, and your son quickly goes into asking more questions.
“Can it sleep in my room?” He asks, looking between the two of you. You chuckle, and Will holds your son with one hand and continues wiping away your happy tears with his other.
“Maybe eventually.” You say, and for now that answer seems to be enough.
“I’m going to be a big brother!” He states, clapping his hands together before Will sets him down. “I’m going to be just like Uncle Mackie!” He states, and it causes a teasing groan from your husband. “Does he know you have a baby in there?” Your son asks, and you instantly freeze, which of course Will catches.
He eyes you for a second, before making a shocked face.
“Does Uncle Mack know?” He asks, his tone accusatory but smirking all the while.
“By accident.” You say with a wince. “He figured it out yesterday. I was rubbing my hand and-“ but Will cuts you off.
“And that’s exactly what you used to do when you were pregnant with him.” Will says, and you nod.
“I’m sorry.” You say, and Will just shakes his head.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I just can’t believe I didn’t notice. The lack of coffee, the lack of meals recently.” He says, like it all makes sense now. “That’s why you gagged when I opened that bag of cheesy chips!”
“Oh god, baby. Those smelled so horrible.” You joke before Will pulls you back into him.
“I love you so much.” He whispers in your ear, and you beam up at him.
“I love you too, Happy Father’s Day.” You whisper.
“The best one yet I think.” He counters as he bends down and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your mouth. He kisses you softly, and his fingers tighten just slightly at your waist. “You’re making me cry a lot today,” he whispers.
“You’re very loving today.” You say jokingly, and Will snorts at your tease.
“I am.” He nods seriously. “I am for you guys, always for you guys.”
And as you press a kiss to his shoulder, Will wraps both arms around you and holds you there, the ultrasound picture catching the early morning light. It doesn’t take long for your peace to be interrupted by the doorbell, and before either of you could untangle yourselves to get to it, Macklin’s familiar voice fills the house.
“Hey family, I’m here!” He shouts, and your son sprints towards the front door giggling all the way.
“Uncle Mackie, Uncle Mackie guess what!” He shouts, and you groan as you plant your forehead into Will’s bare chest.
“Oh I bet I know.” You hear Mack say with a chuckle, and he rounds the corner to see you both. The red eyes, the damp cheeks, and the way you guys are both curled into each other.
Mack smiles, emotion hitting him hard in the chest.
“Congratulations Smitty.” He says, and your husband makes what almost sounds like a pained sigh, unlatching his arm from you and going to hug his best friend. They hug for a long moment, Mack’s eyes catching yours over your husband’s shoulder.
Mack smiles at you, then his eyes glance down to the navy blue box and its contents. Will pulls away from his best friend, wiping at his eyes again before laughing as your son starts asking for pancakes. But Mack’s eyes stay locked into the pictures, and his eyes turn glossy as well.
“You alright, man?” Will asks, noticing the change in emotion.
“Yeah.” Mack says, “I’m just real happy for you guys.”
And as Will makes pancakes, and Mack sets the table, you smile and catch your son who’s morning energy has him running around the kitchen.
You pull him up from the ground, and he giggles and giggles as you pull him into your chest. He calms down for a second, resting his head on your shoulder.
“I love you, Mommy.” He says, quietly enough that the moment is just for you.
“I love you more, bug.” You whisper.
“I’m going to be the best big brother ever.” He says more to himself than anything, and you bite your lip to hide the swell of emotion.
And as the pancakes flip, as Mack gets your son set at the table, and as you watch your husband bask in the news, in his family, in the life he always secretly dreamed for himself, you feel so damn lucky.
Prompt: Will and Mack go ring shopping, needless to say the two are in way over their heads, until Will finds the perfect one
requested!
The first thing Will realizes is that engagement ring shopping is significantly harder than everyone had told him. When he talked to married team members, his dad, and your dad, they didn’t make this part seem like so nerve racking. But, this part was everything, this ring will be on your finger for the rest of your lives, and that stress is what prompts Will’s hands to shake when he and Mack walk through the glass door.
“Why are there so many?” he mutters, standing frozen in the middle of the jewelry store, he’s sure he looks like a deer in headlights.
“You’re telling me. I thought it was just, ring, and then, done.” Mack mutters, his hands shoved in his pockets as he takes in the glistening displays.
“Wow, how romantic, Mack.” Will says, the need to joke with his best friend second nature to him, but right now he does it more out of anxiety than anything.
“I can see that.” Mack says, rolling his eyes.
“No, like, there’s so many shapes. Oval, princess, cushion, what the hell even is a cushion cut?”
Macklin loses it at that, laughing loud enough that the woman behind the counter glances over with a polite, practiced smile. Will can tell she was giving them some space, but he’s sure that the confused look on his face and Mack’s laughter was enough for her to feel the need to step in.
“You’re so screwed,” Macklin says, rubbing his face with one hand. “Have you never asked Y/N what she likes? There’s been no, ‘look at this’ moment?”
Will bristles immediately, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want to ask, that basically ruins the surprise. I just-” Will exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “I want it to be perfect. She deserves the perfect ring.”
That shuts Macklin up for a second, the best friend feeling a bit bad for teasing him. Because this isn’t just Will being clueless, this is Will being, well, Will. Doing something with all his heart, because for you he’s all in.
—
There’s a memory that keeps looping in Will’s head as he stares at the glass cases. It’s of you, which isn’t surprising because you are constantly on his mind. No matter what he’s doing, playing, at practice, driving, his brain always lingers over to you. But he remembers how you were curled up on his couch one day. Your body framed in one of his hoodies, sleeves swallowing your hands. Will has never, and will never say it to you because he knows you’ll tease him endlessly, but he secretly loves how large his clothes are on you. He always tries to get you to wear his things around the house, not that you’ve ever complained about it. But this time it had been one of those late nights after a game, he’d come home wired, still buzzing from adrenaline, and you’d been half asleep but waiting for him anyway.
“You scored,” you mumbled, voice soft, eyes barely open, but you smiled. And Will knew this is what he wanted to come home to every single night.
“Yeah,” he’d said, dropping his bag, already smiling. Your hair was a bit crazy, obviously tousled around from having it resting on the couch for a while. Your makeup was a bit smeared under your eyes, but you looked gorgeous.
“Course you did,” you teased faintly, reaching for him. He climbed onto the couch, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your hair like it grounded him. The smell of your rosemary shampoo filling his nose. And as you settled into him, you just fit there, like you always had.
“What would you have done if I didn’t?” he asked you once he felt your body relax.
You hummed, not needing a second to think before you said, “Still would’ve been proud of you. Always proud of you, Willy.” You finally said, giggling a little at the nickname.
But that moment was one of Will’s favorites, it was simple, domestic, and that’s what was so special about it. It’s like loving you had never required effort, and that’s when it started, that semi terrifying certainty that he needed to marry you, and he needed it more than anything.
—
“Okay,” Macklin says now, snapping Will out of it. “Strategy. What do you know about her ring taste?”
Will leans on the counter, eyes scanning rows of wedding bands and engagement rings, thinking.
“She likes more simple stuff,” he says slowly. “But not boring simple. Like, meaningful simple.”
Macklin squints, his hand back to rubbing his face. “That’s literally the least helpful description I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m trying, man!” Will expresses, before his eyes catch with the woman on the other side of the counter.
She approaches them, warm smile firmly in place. Her hands had a slight shake to them, and Will couldn’t help but look to the ring settled on her finger. I wonder if her husband lost it like I am, Will thinks.
“Can I help you boys find anything?”
“An engagement ring.” Will says, his spine straightening like it does during a post game interview.
Her smile softens, just a little. “Of course. Do you have anything in mind?”
Will shakes his head slightly in a no. But her voice is soothing, and for the first time since he and Mac walked through the door he doesn’t feel out of place.
“He doesn’t know what shapes are.” Macklin says, immediately pointing at Will in a can you believe this guy way.
Will glares at him. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
“I am helping. I’m giving her context.” Mack supplies.
The associate laughs softly, clearly amused with the two. “That’s okay. We can figure it out together.” She says cheerfully, sliding open the glass cases. She starts pulling out trays, diamonds catching the light, different settings, bands, metals.
Will stares like he’s in a museum, he doesn’t make any movements as five trays full of rings are set in front of him.
“Okay, I kinda get the hype now.” Mack says, leaning in to inspect them all.
“Right?” Will whispers back.
The best friends jump slightly when the associate slides a ring closer.
“This one’s an oval cut,” she explains, setting her glasses on her nose as she hands the ring to Will.
—
Another memory hits him without warning.
You in his kitchen, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach something on the top shelf.
“Babe,” he’d said from the doorway, watching you struggle.
“I’ve got it,” you insisted, fingers barely brushing the edge of the box.
He walked over anyway, reaching past you easily, grabbing it.
“You’re annoying,” you said, but you were smiling.
“You love it,” he shot back.
You turned, poking his chest. “I love you. Big difference.”
But he’d caught your hand, pulling you closer. “Same thing.”
You rolled your eyes, but you leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around you. It wasn’t about you not being able to reach, but instead it was about him wanting to be the one who did.
—
“Try picturing it on her hand,” Macklin says, pulling Will back to the present.
He nods, focusing on the sparkling ring, but he knew instantly that it wasn’t right.
“That one feels, too much.” Will expresses, handing the ring back to the woman.
Macklin tilts his head, brows furrowing at Will’s words. “Too much how?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t wear something that flashy every day. She’d feel weird about it.”
“Okay,” Macklin nods. “So not that.”
They move on to another one, and another one.
“What about this one? It’s got like… sparkle but also chill vibes.” Mack says, and Will is actually surprised by him. He thought by now his best friend would get bored, or get annoyed that Will was taking so long. But instead Macklin starts getting way too into it.
“Sparkle but chill vibes is not a real category.” Will says, dead panning at Mack.
“It should be.”
The woman is definitely holding back laughter now, but instead of growing irritated like Will was worried about, she smiles. Putting each ring that Will, or Mack, shakes their heads at back.
—
There’s another moment Will can’t shake. A random afternoon, nothing out of the ordinary. You’d been sitting cross legged on the floor, going through old photos on your phone.
“Look at this,” you said, turning your screen toward him. It was a picture of the two of you early on in your relationship, you mid laugh, and Will staring at you like there was nobody else on the planet.
“You look at me like I hung the moon,” you teased.
“Maybe you did.”
You went quiet for a second, something softer settling over your expression.
“Will-“
He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said, but you were smiling in that way that made his chest ache. That’s the night that he texted Macklin, the text short and to the point.
I need your help.
—
“Wait,” Will says suddenly, pointing, and his heart stops in his chest when he sees it. Macklin follows his gaze, looking towards the square ring sitting in the display case.
It was perfect. Square diamond, thin band made up of tiny diamonds. Nothing too over the top, but it catches the light in a way that feels right, it feels like yours.
“Can I see that one?” Will asks, and he grows less nervous. The associate places it gently in his hand, and as he turns it slightly, watching it sparkle Will was certain for the first time today.
It looked like it belonged to you, like it was made for you. Your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you tuck your hands into his hoodie sleeves, the way you always look at him like he’s more than just some hockey player.
“She’d love this,” he says quietly. “This is it.”
Macklin studies his face, then nods once. “Yeah. I think that’s the one Smit.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Macklin says grinning. “Also, if you’re wrong, let it me known that that’s on you, not me.”
Will huffs out a laugh, eyes rolling in his best friends direction. “Good to know where your loyalty lies.”
“Hey, I got you here. That’s already above and beyond.”
—
Later, when they’re leaving the store, the small box tucked safely in Will’s jacket pocket, Macklin nudges him.
“So, how are you gonna do it?” Mack asks, eyes brows raised in waiting.
Will smiles, softer now, and Mack almost teases him for how in love he looks. “I don’t know,” Will admits. “Something, us.”
“Wow. Deep,” Macklin says.
Will bumps his shoulder. “Shut up.” But he’s already picturing it. Maybe something quiet, maybe something simple. Just the two of you. Because that’s always been enough.
—
That night, you’re curled up beside him again, head resting on his shoulder, half watching something on TV.
“Why are you smiling like that?” you ask, glancing up at him.
“Like what?”
“Like you know something I don’t.”
Will looks down at you, heart doing that stupid, overwhelming thing it always does.
“Just thinking about you,” he says.
You narrow your eyes playfully. “Suspicious.”
He laughs, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your hair. And as you settle back into him, completely unaware of the future sitting quietly in his pocket earlier that day, Will thinks, not for the first time, that he got this impossibly right.
Prompt: who knew that a coffee spill was the beginning of the rest of your life?
requested!
Surprise surprise, you’re late.
The pick up counter at the coffee shop right around the corner from your job is packed. And not the normal packed, it’s a summer day, type of packed. People are shoulder to shoulder, squeezing through others while the door remains constantly open with the amount of people entering and exiting.
You take a step back, only to be met with someone taking a step forward at the same time. You collide with a tall man, and you collide hard.
“Oh shit!” You exclaim, as you both freeze in place. Your once white shirt is now light brown, sticky drops of your coffee landing on your only clean acceptable pair of work pants. The man in front of you looks horrified, his bright eyes going wide, and a large smile dropping off of his face. He’s tall, so tall that you have to move your head up a bit to see him. He’s wearing a zip up with what looks like a small shark emblem in the corner, his hat is backwards, and his eyes move from your ruined shirt, up to your eyes, and back to your shirt.
“Oh my god.” He says, immediately setting down his very full cup on the counter. “I am so sorry.” He reaches for napkins and starts moving as if he’s about to try to help you clean up, until he realizes he can’t pat dry some random women’s chest in the middle of a coffee shop. “That is, wow. I’m so sorry that was completely my fault.” He says again.
You fight the urge to laugh, not only are you running ten minutes behind, but the presentation you’re supposed to be giving in 30 minutes you’ll now have to give with a brown shirt instead of a white one.
“It’s okay.” You say, moving so you can stand in a not so crowded spot of the shop while you take the napkins in his hand to start dabbing yourself dry.
“I’m Will,” He says quickly, cringing a bit as you clean the spill. “Sorry. That’s probably the least important thing to you right now. I’m such an idiot.” He says.
You fight a smile, because what else can you do? “Nice to meet you, Will the idiot.”
His laugh is consuming, and as soon as he does, your focus snaps to him, to the sparkle in his eyes and the way he looks like pure sunlight.
“Can I please buy you another coffee? Or pay for this to be cleaned? Or literally anything to make this better?” He asks.
“I would normally fully take you up on that, however I have a meeting in…now,” You check your watch. “20 minutes, so I really have to go.” You say with a small smile.
“No.” He says, like that news is the worst possible thing for him to hear.
“Yeah, unfortunately.” You joke, trying to make the mood lighter. But you watch as he unzips his zip up swestshirt from his frame, and he hands it over to you. “What are you doing?” You ask him, staring at the offering in front of you.
“Fixing my crime.” He says sheepishly. “Please, I feel horrible and I can’t let you go into a meeting with that.” He says pointing to his alleged crime.
“It will be fine Will, really.” You say softly, but his hand does not retract. If anything he shoves it out more. So, against your better judgment you take the zip up. The smell hits you instantly as you put it on, clean laundry, and something woodsy and warm hitting your nose.
“It is clean, I just wore it here.” He rambles, and for some reason it makes you smile. He’s nervous, nervous and apologetic. “Plus, it looks better on you anyway.” He says, before freezing like he can’t believe those words just came out of his mouth.
You smile wider now, laughing a bit as you hold out your hand. “Give me your phone, Will.” He pauses, almost like he can’t believe you’re being so nice after this. You notice his eyebrows shoot up so you continue. “So I can text you to give this back to you.” You state, and he snaps out of it to hand you his phone. You put your contact information in, but add under your name, coffee victim. He looks at the contact and laughs as he locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.
“I am so sorry, Y/N.” He says again as you walk towards the doors.
“Have a good day, Will.”
—
Needless to say your coworkers, and managers, had a lot to say about your appearance. They all begged to see the ‘crime’ and as you unzipped the sweatshirt before your presentation everyone thought this was the funniest thing they’ve seen in a while. It wasn’t until someone said, “who’s Smith?” That you actually started to piece together who it was that spilled coffee all over you.
The sharks logo on the sweatshirt, the name on the back. Of course, are you dumb? It’s the hockey team, the San Jose Sharks.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket before you could look him up.
Will: Hi, this is Will, you know the guy who threw coffee at you this morning. Did the zip up do its job?
You smile and let out a small laugh at the question, before quickly replying.
Y/N: Barely, but now I’m getting questions over why I’m wearing an apparently famous hockey players clothing
Will: Sorry about that, I owe you a lot. Especially a new coffee
Y/N: That’s a little dangerous coming from you, don’t you think?
Will: It will go directly from the barista’s hand to yours, I wouldn’t even look at it
You laugh out loud in your office, and type back.
Y/N: Are you normally like this before noon?
Will: Normally I wait until after practice
Y/N: Ah, the San Jose Sharks practice? Are you perhaps famous, Will Smith?
There was silence for a second, and you wonder if your teasing isn’t coming across as teasing. But that thought was snuffed out as soon as the three dots appeared once again.
Will: I am slightly recognizable in specific buildings. But don’t google me, I’d rather you know me as the panicked coffee guy instead
—
For the next week, you’re glued to your phone. You and Will text non stop, and at some insane hours of the day. You chalk it up to him being awake because of hockey or traveling.
Y/N: How can I return the zip up you sacrificed for me?
Will: How about dinner? Tonight?
You stop, look away, and then look back. He can’t possibly be asking you out, you shake your head and type back.
Y/N: Sure, just let me know where you are and I can meet you in the parking lot or something.
You send it before cringing slightly.
Y/N: That sounded slightly like a drug deal
Will: I wanted to ask you out normally before asking you to come to drug deals, but I guess you beat me to the punch
Y/N: You want to ask me out?
Will: I did ask you out
Will: But yes. Y/N, would you like to go on a date tonight?
You stop in your tracks, your heels stopping against the floor in the break room, and you can’t help the smile that blooms over your entire face. But then it drops, as you remember the girls night you have planned it your best friends.
“Fuck,” you whisper silently to yourself.
Y/N: Tomorrow night? I’m sorry, my best friend just went through this break up and all of us are coming together for a wine night. Plus I’m in charge of the wine which means I have to track down our favorite kind
Y/N: I swear I’m not blowing you off
You stare at the two text messages, embarrassment flooding your body. But his response makes your smile return.
Will: Tomorrow night then. I’ll pick you up. Sorry to hear about your friend, but a wine night sounds dangerous
Y/N: As dangerous as a coffee shop?
Will: No, significantly less
—
Will texts you when he’s on his way, telling you to wear ‘comfortable couch clothes’, and bring a sweatshirt. You respond with a fun and flirty message, just like you guys have been doing this entire time. And it doesn’t take long for a car to pull up outside your small house, and for Will to step out of it. His gaze goes up and down your frame, and for a second you think you’re not dressed correctly.
Your linen pants are blowing lightly in the breeze, and your top is casual enough to be a normal house shirt, but still nice enough to look like you put effort in, which you are trying to hide the fact that you did. Your hair is done in soft waves, your makeup also so light but noticeable if you’re standing close, and your strappy sandals giving you a few extra inches of height. You don’t miss Will noticing every detail about you, and you smile as you take him in as well.
“You look,” He starts as you walk towards him, his sweatshirt clean and thrown over your arm. “Just, wow.”
“Thank you.” You joke, as he opens the passenger door for you.
Once he gets in and starts driving, you both fall into a comfortable conversation, the same teasing words you’ve been giving over text, but this time with the ability to see how bright his eyes get every time he asks you something about yourself. You don’t even realize where you are until he puts the car in park.
“Here’s my plan.” He says, turning towards you. “Pick up pizza, and then a quiet spot, very low key.” He explains almost like he’s nervous you’ll hate it.
“That sounds perfect.” You say with a smile as he takes you into the small pizza joint. You both negotiate a pizza order, which isn’t hard because you find that you like the exact same things.
It wasn’t until youre back in the car, the smell of a pizza filling it and making your stomach rumble that you spot the bottle in the backseat. A bottle that looks suspiciously like the bottle of your best friend and your favorite wine. The same wine that took you hours to track down last night. The same wine you remember complaining to Will that he hasn’t lived until he’s tried it.
“You found it?” You ask him, not believing what you’re seeing.
“You said it was your favorite.” He says with a small shrug, like this wasn’t one of the best things someone has done for you.
“Will that’s expensive, and like impossible to track down.”
“You’re worth it.” He says, a little shy. But your smile blooms again, and you realize you might be in way over your head when it comes to him.
“Thank you.” You whisper, like you couldn’t trust your voice to say it any louder.
—
You didn’t realize how much Will had brought until he was carrying it up a small hill just outside San Jose.
“Let me-“ You start to say, but each time he shoots you down. Once you got to a certain spot half under a tree half under the open sky, Will sets up shop. He throws a blanket big enough for five people down in the grass, and lays out the pizza boxes, the wine, and other drinks and snacks he somehow managed to carry.
You guys talk for hours. The sun keeps slowly slipping down the sky, birds chirp, and it wasn’t until the slight chill swept through the air and the crickets started to sound that you knew you’ve been here for hours. But you had no intention of leaving, and neither does Will.
He asks you about your job, your friends, your family at first. But you can’t help but find yourself going into detail about everything, about where you grew up and how the move to San Jose was terrifying at first. He tells you about growing up with hockey and continuing his life with it. He tells you about college, about getting drafted, about the Sharks and about Macklin.
“He did what!?” You exclaim, leaning over in laughter as Will retells it.
“He did pay for it, but still I drove around with this giant crack in my windshield. And every day when I would go to pick him up he’d smile at it.” Will says with laughter. You guys are closer now, the pizza long since eaten, and the wine bottle half empty. He leans on his elbow, his body angled to face you while the rest of him is laying down on the blanket. You’re the same, only as the hours continue to pass you swear the closer you guys are getting to each other.
“He sounds fun.” You say, smiling at Will.
“He’s my best friend, I can’t image doing all this without him.” You watch him as he says it, you note the soft smile on his lips, and the way the sun casts everything in a pink orange glow. “He’d really like you, you know.” Will says after a moment of silence.
“Macklin?” You question, but you know that’s who he means.
Will nods, and he looks at you with a warm intensity. “You guys are similar, so for my sake I might keep you hidden for a while.” He jokes, but his eyes are soft, and they glance to your bare arms as a rush of wind causes goosebumps to rise on your arms. “Here.” He says, reaching behind him to give you his sweatshirt.
“I did bring my own, you know.” You state, but you grab for the one outstretched in front of you.
“I know. But I think I like the look of you in mine more.” He states, and as your fingers brush you let them linger. “Plus, this way you’ll have to see me again to return it.”
You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. “That’s your grand plan? Every date to give me something so I’ll see you again?”
Will doesn’t respond as you slide the sweatshirt over your head, he only watches and commits the look of you in his sweatshirt into his memory. This time it isn’t the San Jose Sharks that you are representing. But instead a black sweatshirt with RED BULL printed on the front. You watch him as he takes it in, watch as the blush returns to his cheeks, and as his fingers gently brush a thick strand of your curls out from under the sweatshirt collar. His fingers stay there, planted right under your ear, and you know he can hear the gasp exit your mouth at the movement.
“I’m trying so hard to be respectful.” He whispers, his eyes moving between your eyes and your lips. And in that moment, you have never wanted more than for him to follow through on something.
“What does it look like when you’re not?” You ask him, leaning slightly closer, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he responds.
“Like this.” And he leans in. His hand planting firmly but softly behind your ear as he closes the gap between you two. You on instinct move into his space, your body molding into his as your own hands move to touch him. The kiss starts out gentle, but it deepens as you let out a noise that’s swallowed by his mouth. He pulls away gently, smiling at you, and you know your face is revealing just how much you enjoyed that.
“What?” He asks with a small laugh.
“Nothing.” You nearly whisper, moving your hands up to slowly brush a curl out of his face.
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” He says, moving slightly into your touch as your fingers do not let up.
“It’s just,” You start, watching him watch you. “That was a really good kiss.” You say, and you laugh as his cheeks go pink again.
“Yeah?” He questions, and you nod. “Good, because I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.”
“A while?” You question, and he nods.
“I think since you zipped up my hoodie that had my name on the back.” He admits, and you lean in then to kiss him again. Like the small confession was the nail in the coffin. Will Smith is sweeping you off your feet.
It wasn’t long until he was laying down on his back, pulling you in so your head is resting on his chest as you both stare at the stars. One arm tucked against your waist, holding you steadily into his warmth. The other running softly through your hair as you guys continue to talk.
“There.” He says, pointing to the sky.
“I see the Big Dipper.” You say, your eyes scanning the stars. “But I’m still not seeing the small one.”
He takes your hand gently, moving it so he is using your finger to point to it for you. His warm hand engulfs yours, and you can’t escape the flutter in your stomach at the feeling. He traces your finger in the air, and you finally see it. The Small Dipper.
“I thought you were an athlete, not an astronomer.” You joke, and Will laughs as he lowers both of your hands, bringing your palm over to rest on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, a bit fast, but also strong and steady.
“I think I could stay here for a very long time.” You whisper, your eyes still scanning the stars above.
“Under the stars? Or with me?” He asks softly, and you can tell his gaze has found its way to you.
“Both.” You say with complete honesty.
“Yeah, me too.” He says, planting a kiss into your hair.
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Pairing: will smith x reader!gf, platonic mack x reader
Prompt: you’ve always had that sixth sense before something terrible happens. and needless to say, when that feeling tells you to lock the hotel door? you listen
Warnings: attempted break in, also Eky is mentioned still on the sharks… sue me
One incident? Luck. Twice? Maybe a coincidence. But Will Smith has lost track of how many times you’ve single handedly saved him, a teammate, or especially Macklin from something going wrong.
He made a few jokes in the beginning, as did Mack of course. But every time you felt that sickening feeling crawl up your spine, every time you went weirdly pale, every time your breath hitched and your eyes went wide, Will has listened. And every time, you’ve been exactly right.
Macklin likes to joke that you’re a witch, which of course you immediately threw your slice of apple at him as he said it.
“Not the scary kind!” He amended as Will gave him a ‘did you really just call my girlfriend a witch’ look.
“You’re lucky I like you.” You chirp back to the younger player, as Will gives your side a squeeze.
—
Really, Will doesn’t know how these things keep happening, but they do.
First it was Macklin in the summer, he was walking down to the dock, the wood squeaking under his bare feet. He was rambling about something, Will couldn’t really remember because he was entirely too focused on you.
The breeze through your hair, the deep brown color of your bikini against your skin, the smell of pine wafting off you from your body wash that Will tells you smells like Christmas.
But then he noticed the switch, noticed your skin grow goosebumps, the slight shiver that racked through you. At first he thought you were cold, even with the warm sun beating down on the July day. But then it was the paleness of your skin, and the shaking of your fingers. And then.
“Mack.” You say, all teasing and lightness dropped from your tone. But Macklin wasn’t paying attention, which was not out of the ordinary. “Macklin.” You say again, voice stern. Yet, his best friend still didn’t stop walking. “MACK.” You finally yell, your hand going up to Mack’s t-shirt. You tightened your fist around the fabric and yanked him backwards. His body crashing into you, which then crashed into Will.
“What the fuck!” Mack yelped more out of suprise than anything. And the very next second the board Mack was just about to step on cracks, the old wood falling into the lake, and three of you stare at the spot that definitely would have made Macklin fall through if he stepped on it.
Not that the boys weren’t convinced, but the second time made them agree never to question you at all. What you say goes now. So, at dinner with the team, Will and Mack both agreed to listen to you.
A dish was getting passed around, but as soon as you saw it you questioned it. Then that all too familiar feeling crept in, and you whispered quietly to Will not to eat it. He looked from you to the food, and he nodded. Macklin agreed too with no hesitation, and once again, you were proven to be correct. Half of the team got food poisoning.
“You’re basically magical.” Mack told you while you and Will were dropping him off that night. And you shrug your shoulders, trying not to get freaked out by whatever it is that makes you feel these things.
—
Will has been on the road for three days. Which isn’t long by hockey standards, but you’re definitely missing him being around. So when Mack plans for you to surprise Will in the hotel after their game, you jumped on the opportunity.
Mack:
It’s room 130
You:
Okay, I’m just up the street
Mack:
Hurry up
You:
Oh my bad, I’ll make sure to tell my driver that. I’m sure he’ll listen
Mack:
Wow, you must really be missing Will
You:
And you’re implying what exactly?
Mack:
Nothing. Just try to hurry
By the time you make it there, Macklin is already waiting half in the hallway half in the room. You roll your eyes with a smirk at his impatience as he ushers you in.
“My god woman you’re so slow.”
“It’s been three minutes since you texted me last!” You whisper exclaim, not wanting Will to hear your voice over the shower.
As you throw your bag on the bed Macklin looks at you, before hugging you quickly in greeting before the shower shuts off.
You instantly sit on the foot of the bed Will is going to be sleeping in and as Will opens the door he sees Macklin standing there.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Will asks, walking out of the bathroom but not yet seeing you. He’s got a Boston shirt on, and a pair of black sharks shorts. This golden hair is damp, wet curls stuck to the back of his neck.
“Nothing. Move.” Mack says, getting defensive.
“You’ve been weird all-“ But then Will stops, stops because he turns to see you, sitting on his bed, a goofy smile on your face.
“2 goals tonight? That’s pretty impressive.” You say, a sultry little tone in your voice. You make sure to keep it in check because you know Macklin will complain otherwise.
But Will doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say anything until his arms are around you, picking you up and spinning you around a few times.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, your feet back on the ground as his hands move to your face.
“I missed-“ But you’re cut off by the press of his lips. Like he couldn’t even wait for you to get your sentence out.
“Oh my god.” He says with a laugh.
“Your best friend did some planning.” You say with a small shrug. And at that Will turns to Mack, who’s standing sheepishly by the door like he’s trying to give you guys privacy in the smaller hotel room.
“You did this?” Will asks, and Mack also gives a small shrug.
“You’ve been a mope since we left, plus she’s been no better.”
You and Will both laugh, and Will goes back to you, pressing his forehead against yours and planting small kisses to your face.
“I dreamed about you the last couple nights, so this better be real.” He says.
“It’s real.” You whisper.
“I figured. If it was a dream Macklin would not be here.” He says, and you let out a laugh, your shoulders shaking in his arms.
“Hey, I brought her here!” Macklin says, but you see the bright smile on his mouth.
“Thank you man, really.” Will says, before pulling you into him once again. The smell of him washes over you, some musky woodsy calming smell, reminding you as well that this is real. You lean up on your tip toes to kiss him once more, before you fall into the familiar pattern of your boyfriend and his best friend.
—
A few hours later the three of you are still up, still laughing together and eating the room service Will called for.
You’re leaning into Will’s chest, his thighs and legs bracketing you, and you couldn’t lie that his size compared to you makes you blush.
Macklin was retelling some story from the game, and Will chimes in every once in a while to add something Mack forgot.
Everything was good. Everything was happy and safe and warm, until it wasn’t.
You think you fake it for a second, but then the feeling hits again. That cold, bone chilling feeling that slithers up your neck. You freeze against Will, your heartbeat picking up as your eyes scan the room.
“Baby?” Will says, a bit concerned, and Mack immediately shuts up as he notices what’s happening. “What’s wrong?” He asks, but you stay still, color draining from your face as you wait for the sense, that weird voice to tell you what is happening.
And then it hits.
You fly off the bed, yelling at them to stay there as you race to the door, using your shaking fingers to use the chain to lock the door shut.
“Y/N.” Will says, getting up with Macklin directly beside him.
“Don’t.” You say, and then you hear it.
Three soft knocks on the door. The three of you freeze.
“This is maintenance, we have to check on your bathroom. The room beside yours flooded.”
“Y/N.” Will says, taking a step forward.
“Stay away from the door.” You say, your voice comes out in more of a whisper than anything.
The knocks happen again, and Will steps forward again. But not for the door, instead for you. But he freezes again as the knocks are now pounds. Angry. Loud. Violent.
“Will Smith!” The voice bellows outside the door. And instantly you shove your back against Will’s chest, like you’re ready to protect him if this man gets through.
“Macklin!” Will calls, and Mack flies towards the phone. Dialing quickly for the desk before holding it to his ear. The pounding sounds again, even louder and more aggressive this time. And Will like he’s now realizing where you’ve placed yourself, says “Absolutely not.” And shoves your body behind his.
“Yeah, room 130. Someone is banging on the door trying to get in.” Mack says quickly, the pounding continuing, the yelling of Will and Mack’s names making your hands shake violently. Mack steps in front of you both, the three of you in a single file line. You shoved behind Will, because he will always protect you, and the two of you behind Macklin, because Macklin wouldn’t let anything or anybody hurt the people he loves.
But that’s when it happens, the beeping of a hotel key being swiped, and the door opens a half an inch. You swear, one hand gripping Will’s shirt, one hand reaching around to grip Macklin’s.
“They have a fucking key!” Mack says urgently into the phone, his left arm coming around to shove both you and Will farther against his back.
But the door doesn’t budge past that half an inch, because you locked it. Because somehow, something told you to do it. And as the gold metal lock holds strong, you know deep down you were able to protect them, just like they protect you.
“Will.” You mumble, and he tightens you further into his back.
“It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Your chest rises and falls fast, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you shove your head as deep into his muscled back as you could get it.
But then finally, after what feels like hours, you can hear the yelling of security, what sounds like a scuffle outside the door, and the confirmation from Macklin that security has taken someone away.
There’s a knock on the door, and you go wide eyed until you hear the voice of a man, he states his name, how he works for the hotel, and tells whoever is on the phone to confirm this information with the front desk. Mack relays it, and he hangs up with a thank you as he goes to unlock the door for the security guard.
You hold out a breath you don’t remember holding. And as Macklin talks to the man, Will whips around to you, holding your face in his hands as he tells you over and over that you’re safe, that everything is okay now.
“Breathe, baby.” He soothes, unable to stop touching you, like he’s got to prove to himself you’re safe. “You’re doing so good, just like that.” He says as you following his breathing.
And once everything has calmed down, and Tyler Toffoli has checked in on you guys, the three of you sit on the same bed. You can tell they want to say something, anything about how you basically flew for the door, but both of them know it’s not the time.
Will only keeps his arms around you, keeps you pressed into him as he takes a deep breath in and out.
“I thought he was going to get you.” You say, and you meet Will’s worried eyes. “I didn’t want him to hurt you. Either of you.”
“He didn’t, because of you.” Will says, kissing your temple for a long moment. “But this doesn’t mean that once we get out of this fucking hotel that I’m not going to lecture you about trying to stay in front of me.” Will says, and you roll your eyes with a small smile.
“That’s just what you do when you love someone.” You say.
But you and Will both think back to it, think about how Mack was the one to step in front of you both. How Mack reached his arm around to hold onto both of you as the man tried to breach the door.
“He wouldn’t have gotten to you.” Mack says. “You either.” He says looking at his best friend.
“Yeah?” Will says, still anxious, still on edge, but giving Mack his normal teasing tone and face.
“I’m Macklin Celebrini.” Mack says, with a wave of his hands. “I would have figured something out.”
And even though you can tell behind the jokes that Macklin is serious, that if it came down to it he would have thrown himself in the line of fire for you and Will, you both decide that something more light hearted is in store.
“You mean like how you got into a fight early because someone hit Eky?” You question, eyebrow raising.
And that seems do to the trick, because next thing you know Macklin has jumped into the detailed story, and you lay back against Will, his thumbs rub small circles into your skin. Like he needs to remind you he’s here.
“I love you.” He says into your ear.
“I love you more.” You whisper back, careful not to interrupt Mack as he’s deep in acting out what occurred on the ice.
“Not fucking possible.” He says back, his hand brushing your hair back as he kisses your temple again. Settling you deeper into him as you both give your focus back to Mack.
What happens when your team decides to bring another Red Bull athlete to hungary for a special one-of-a-kind hot lap? And what if that athlete just so happened to be Will Smith– a hockey player and one of your biggest fans?
pairing will smith x redbullf1driver!fem!reader warnings fluff, banter, playful teasing, strangers x ??? wc 4.2 note lowkey thought about making an au with this exact pairing but i’m not sure, maybe?
( f1 terms meaning : dnf = did not finish, points = what you get when you finish top 10, WDC = world drivers’ championship, formation lap = the warmup lap, pole position = the first grid slot that you get from having the fasted lap in qualifyin, chicane = a series of corners with a sequence of left and right turns, straights = a straight line on the track where the cars go the fastest.)
After Christian Horner was dropped from Red Bull the media lit up in flames, all eyes from around the world drawing directly towards your team.
The news only grew louder the more reporters began reading into the fine print, their hungry fingers releasing article after article. It didn’t help that each new statement was accompanied by fan videos that did nothing but create more baseless rumours.
It was noisy and for a few days it disrupted everything. Well, for you it did. The attention didn’t affect your teammate, Max, that much. Sure the few stray interviews were distracting but with his priorities lying sturdy with his growing family, he was easily able to let go. But to you, it was a lot.
You already had all eyes on you, the whispers of the paddock reaching your ears long after everyone else’s. Not only because two years ago was your rookie year, having been brought up when you were not yet eighteen- just like Max. but because you made history.
Red Bull thrived in both the 23’ and 24’ seasons. Though, the first year you were more than just overlooked. You were good, really good. But you weren’t the best, not yet. Not when your teammate was the one winning nineteen out of the twenty-two races, with you barely scraping up into points for the first half of the first season.
But then Zandvoort came, your teammates’ home race– and your first victory. You’ve only raced there once before, the year prior in F3. So when you took pole from your teammate with a tenth of a second difference, people started noticing you.
Before, it was all negative noise. No one cared about you and almost everyone was implying that you were some sort of publicity stunt, that Horner brought you up just to clear his name.
But then you started challenging the reigning champion of two years. Your calculated overtakes stealing the spotlight in its own way, your rookie year podiums causing a frenzy amongst fans.
But you didn’t win the 23’ season, coming forth in the championship. But the next year, you stole the narrative back. It was the hardest thing you’ve done– beating the man who was said to be the new Senna. So when you ended his winning streak with your own world championship in 24’ the world paused, their minds frozen as you took hairpins too fast and beat the former champion in equal machinery.
And then came the applause, your name making waves across the media. But you weren’t called the next Senna. Instead, they called you ‘The Female Prost”. Perhaps it was the media’s own way to bring the past back to life, relighting an old flame. Or maybe they saw something in you that you were still blinded to. Either way, they stopped at nothing to attempt to villainize you and max– the media and fans alike twisting your post-race press conference’s words.
But it didn’t work. Both you and Max were mature enough to recognize that the tension was there on track, and that it was better to keep it nowhere but there. It didn't bleed into the late nights you spent celebrating together, nor the team dinners you had to beg Max to accompany you to.
So when your new team principal, Laurent Mekies, changed over from the Racing Bulls, he wanted to draw the light away from Horner and back to the two of you. More so, away from the McLarens and their newfound dominance.
And that’s when he came up with the great idea of filming a different type of video right before your multi-week summer break. And by default, he chose you to participate in whatever new videos he and the media team could come up with on short notice. Not that you could really blame him, Max has always been quite vocal about how much he disliked those kinds of things.
And all this brought you to today, your back resting against your pit wall with your wired earphones pressed deep into your ears. You weren’t too worried about what was waiting for you today. Not because you weren’t nervous, but because you simply didn’t know what exactly was waiting for you.
Your media girl didn’t give you much of an explanation of what was expected from today’s media day, having only informed you that you’d be accompanied by an American celebrity. And the only video you could come up with was some version of a hot lap in between free practices, which happens to line up with your current schedule.
Though, having an American come all the way to Hungary for a video on a random race weekend during their summer seemed a bit… intense. And it was safe to say you were at least a bit curious. Was it an influencer who knew nothing about the sport? Or maybe it was some entitled athlete who only agreed to do a video with you in hopes of being more than just another boy in your DMs– which happens quite often.
But when your media handler came over to get you for the surprise video, you cleared your mind with a small smile directed towards her. “Ready to be stuck in a car for half an hour with a stranger?” She winked at you with her left eye, a small giggle leaving her lips when you played along with her facade. A hot lap, you were right.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been dreading it all day.” And by the time you reached the small group of Red Bull employees waiting for you at turn three, her charisma had already left its lasting effect on the anxiety you would’ve otherwise been drowning in.
Everyone turned to look at you with identical smiles, their eyes kind. “Hey, sorry for keeping you guys waiting.” An older employee brushed your concerns off with a swipe of his hand, his lips pursing out with an exhale of air, “It’s fine, we’re just getting Will wired up for your hot lap.”
Your ears perked up at the unfamiliar name, anticipation building beneath your skin the longer you had to imagine who “Will” could have been. You just nodded in response before letting one of the staff put a mic on, your own hands taking it from her to click it onto your team kit. But it wasn’t long before you felt a presence behind you, and a throat quietly clearing itself.
You spun on your heels, your french braided hair swinging against your back. And when you saw the taller man standing in front of you, your breath hitched. His blonde hair seemed brighter in the sun, honeyed strands spread messily over his forehead as if he's been anxiously running his fingers through them whilst waiting. But what caught your attention was the way his blue eyes seemed to see you- and not through you.
You struck your hand out towards him for a handshake, “Hey, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you…” and even though you already knew his first name you wanted to hear him introduce himself, hear the way his name would sound rolling off his pretty lips. Lips that you shamelessly admired, not that you ever planned to let him know.
But Will, being the gentleman he is, perked up with a bright, friendly smile. His hand was slightly warm as it grabbed yours, his fingers rough as they touched the back of your hand. “Yeah, I know who you are.” he quickly replied before he backtracked, his cheeks warming when he realized what he said. His other hand pushed up to rub the back of his neck, his expression growing shameless. “But I’m Will”
You looked at him from under your lashes, “Will?” you pressed, dragging his name in a questionable tone. He caught what you were putting down and replied with an equally as playful response, “Will Smith, center for the San Jose Sharks.” He laughed when your eyes still didn’t light up with any recognition, “It's a hockey team.” Your mouth opened with a quiet oh, your lips reflecting his smile albeit a tiny bit more shameful.
You dropped your hands when an impulsive giggle left your mouth, your lips spreading in a smile that drew his eyes down to them. “Oh, I don't know if I'm funny enough to entertain Hollywood royalty.” Will jokingly rolled his eyes at your play on his name, his hand leaving his neck to cross over his chest.
“Well I wouldn't worry too hard, you’re doing pretty good so far.” You both jumped at the sudden voice coming from your sides, both of your eyes wide as if you both just remembered you weren't alone. “The car’s ready when you are.” Two helmets were in his hands and upon further inspection you saw that they both had your number on them- number 46.
“Did you know before I went to the NHL I once used the same number as you?” Your head snapped over towards Will who was casually leaning forward to grab one of the helmets, his eyes momentarily locking onto the staff as he shot them a small thanks.
“Guess we’re more alike than we think.” His eyes met yours with a small hesitance, his response coming out slower than the others. “Guess we’ll see soon.”
By the time you were both securely strapped into your seats, with him starting with the questions and you behind the wheel, you were already making small talk.
It wasn’t anything worth mentioning, the topic never strayed from a surface-level conversation about his travels from the USA to Hungary. But when your in-ear buzzed with life you knew it was time to go.
You looked over towards the man who was sitting right beside you with his arms centimetres from yours, and you slightly tilted your head with a carefree smile. Surprisingly, it was genuine. It was easier to like him than most people.
But when your eyes reached him your eyebrow rose when you already saw him staring at you with his mouth slightly open, just enough for you to see a few of his teeth peaking through his lips. When he realized you were looking at him his cheeks lit up with a blush that, fortunately for him, was covered by his helmet. It was at that moment that he wished that he looked as good to you as you do to him, even with the ridiculously obnoxious helmet.
“You ready to start?” Your voice still carried the teasing tone from earlier, which he noticed and reciprocated with his own response. “Depends, are you going to go fast?”
You scoffed out loud and when a challenging look entered your eyes Will gulped. You looked up at the camera that was already recording you, the light blinking red, and you adjusted your hands on the wheel.
You gave Will another minute to prepare himself before you went to shift the gear, as the car was already running. But before pressing the gas you shot him a cocky glance, “better hold on, pretty boy. I don’t slow down for anyone.” Before he could respond, your foot pressed down on the throttle and his back went pushing back against the seat.
Your hands moved fluently between shifts, your skills seamlessly bleeding into sports cars just as much as your Red Bull. But when Will still didn’t say anything by turn 9 you quickly glanced over towards him only to accidentally let out a laugh that was a bit too real.
Will, for what it was worth, was doing better than you thought he would. Sure, his eyes were closed and his head was tilted back against the headrest. But he wasn’t green, nor throwing up.
“You doing alright, Mr Hollywood?” Will finally opened his eyes all the way but couldn’t lift his head far enough from the seat to comfortably look over towards you. But his voice came out deceitful to how he actually felt, it was confident in all the ways he wasn’t. “Yeah, of course. It’s not like it feels like my brain is about to fly out of my head or anything.”
When you slowed down to take turns 12 through 14 he finally had a chance to look down at the cue cards gripped in his hand and at the first question the team prepared for him.
Will’s lips pulled up into a smile when he read the first question, which he knew you would get wrong. He didn’t know who wrote these questions because they clearly weren’t aware that you had no idea who he was, or what he did for a living before today.
You looked over at Will at his sudden laugh, your interest piqued at the amused expression on his face, “what?” you questioned. Will shook his head before looking up at you, “You’re cooked. These questions are all about me.”
Your jaw dropped, “You’re joking.” He shook his head, “Nope. This one is asking when I joined Red Bull.”
Your head shook at him in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing as no answer came to mind. “How am I supposed to know any of those questions when we just met today?” Will shrugged in agreement before he paused and backtracked, “Actually, I bet I will get all yours right.”
You gasped in shock at his claim, your eyes flickering between him and the track in front of you. “No shot, Mr Hollywood.” But Will wasn’t going to give up, “I swear I will! Unlike you, I knew who I was meeting today.”
You pretended to flinch in pain, removing your hand from the wheel to clutch at your chest for dramatics. “You’re not supposed to kick me when I’m already down.” Will looked up from the next cue card only to also gasp– except his was real.
“Whoa! Both hands on the wheel, please. You said it first, you have Hollywood royalty here.” He reiterated your words from earlier with his best attempt at your voice and accent– which was a mixture of a few due to how often you travel.
“Right, my bad. Forgot I had precious cargo to get back to San Jose.” At the mention of the city Will lives in his head shot up with a bright smile, his voice coming out excited when he laughed at your accidental correct answer. “You literally would’ve gotten the next question right!”
“No way-“ you played into the overexcited act with your voice coming out higher-pitched, to which he responded the same way, “Yes way, it was asking what city I play for.”
When you went to respond again the producer's voice came into your ears, his statement clear. You only had one more full lap until it was Will’s turn to drive. “Speed run round?” Will nodded at your words, his hands already shuffling through the deck for the easiest ones.
“What year did I start playing hockey?”
“2014?” Wrong.
“What’s my number?”
“46.” Wrong.
“What team do I play for?”
“First of all, I should get a half point for 46. But this one’s easy, San Jose Sharks.” Correct.
“Wow, I’m surprised you remembered. What position do I play?”
That question forced your attention away from the road to send him a bewildered look, “Position? Are we allowed to talk about that kind of stuff?”
Will’s head tilted back with a laugh, his eyes and smile bright, “Like center, defence, goalie.” He started listing off all the positions, to which you just nodded along.
“Right, yeah obviously that’s what I was thinking of too.” He nodded, “Definitely believe you.”
“Goalie?” You stressed the word, stretching it out longer than you should’ve due to the time nearing its final seconds. And by Will’s silence as you passed the final corner you knew you got it wrong. Which was proven when you parked and looked over at him only to be greeted with him tsking whilst disappointingly shaking his head.
“Goalie? Really?” You shrugged in defence, your hands releasing the wheel to throw up in front of you, “I mean, maybe? What’s wrong with being a goalie, Mr Hollywood? Do you hate goalies?”
Your bickers didn’t stop between seat changes, your voices coming out loud enough to pull a laugh from the staff around you, and a few headshakes from the ones who were fastening your seatbelts. And as you sat confidently in the passenger seat with the cue cards already prepared, Will was the opposite.
He knew how to drive but having you, someone who drives for a living, sitting beside him made his heart race. He wanted to impress you, he did, but he wasn’t sure how he could do it.
Instead, he looked at you for guidance, his eyes wide and excited as his palms rubbed against the ribbed wheel. Your pretty eyes were looking at him all patiently, your eyelashes long and fluttering against your eyebrow bone due to your slightly downturned head.
“Full throttle?” You excitedly nodded at his question, your lips pulling up into a wide smile. “Of course, wouldn’t want anything else.” He nodded to himself as he psyched himself up for it. Full throttling seemed easier in hindsight, but now that he was actually about to do it he had no idea where to start.
“Hold on tight.” You rolled your eyes at his tone but gripped the door handle just to humour him. But right when he released the clutch pedal the engine stalled and the car started rolling.
Will’s head snapped to you when he felt the car move on its own, his eyes wide in shock. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, whether it was from fear or embarrassment he wasn’t sure.
But when you saw it you broke out in a loud laugh and reach over from your side, your arm brushing his, and ordered him to press the brake whilst you shifted the car into neutral, a small huff left his lips before they pulled into a smile.
“What happened to full throttling, Mr Hollywood?” Will groaned at your playful diss, his eyes fluttering closed as his head tilted away from the camera– which was his attempt to hide his flustered face.
“I’m a hockey player for a reason.” You nodded at his words with a hum, your eyes squinting as him whilst you pulled back and sat back up in your seat, “right, at least I don’t need to worry about Red Bull dropping me for you.”
An offended gasp left Will’s lips at the same time you winked at the camera, “Okay wow, maybe I should wear Max Verstappen’s number this weekend instead.”
He bit the inside of his cheek when you dramatically side-eyed him, his heart fluttering in his chest at the look in your eyes. “I’m not sure how well Max will take someone who can’t throttle a car to wear his number…” You trialled off as your in-ear once again went off.
Will shook his head, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You shrugged with an easygoing laugh, “Well, Mr Hollywood, he’ll definitely be hearing about this later.”
This time when Will started the car he didn’t take off right away, opting to have a slower start compared to yours. “Oh yeah, the McLarens would eat you alive.” Unlike Will, you didn’t have any issue freely moving your head, your neck supporting far less g-force than you were used to.
“Okay, let’s see if you live up to your own expectations.” You clapped your hands together once before clearing your throat to read off the first question.
“How many times have I finished out of points since moving up from Formula 3?”
Will didn’t hesitate to answer, his voice coming out confident and sure, “eight, with only one DNF.” You nodded your head all impressed, your mouth opening with a quiet wow, “Do you know how I DNFed?”
Will nodded, “Kimi Antonelli hit you whilst leaving the pit lane which caused you to lift and spin out in Austria.” He could see you looking at him with an unfamiliar expression on your face as he flawlessly explained what happened. Well, as flawless as he could without knowing all the different racing terms.
You could feel the emotion building in the back of your throat at the remembrance of the crash so you cleared your throat and tried to steer the conversation away with a new question, “I’m assuming you keep up with F1?” He shrugged a bit shyly, “mainly you but yeah sometimes when the races don’t clash with my schedule I’ll watch with Mack.” he admitted in a small voice.
You cocked your head to the side at the unfamiliar name, “Mack?” You weren’t sure why the name caused your stomach to stir but you didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way your eyes narrowed at the idea of Will having a girlfriend, even if you just met him today.
“Yeah, he’s my teammate.” You’ve never been more thankful for the man sitting beside you’s fear of looking away from the track, thanking the universe that Will didn’t catch on to your slight change of tone.
“Righ, um…” You cleared your throat as you shuffled the cue card to the back of the pile to read the next one aloud, “Okay speed run. Am I a world champion? If so, what year did I become one?”
“Last year you got your WDC.” Correct.
“What’s my max position’s lost from pole?”
“None.” Correct.
“What Formula’s did I participate in?”
“Only 3 and 1, and you won in both.” Correct.
“What’s a formation lap?”
“Uhh, the very first lap of the race?” You looked up at him with a gleam in your eyes, “Not necessarily but I guess I’ll give you a point.” You held a finger up to him, “Just this once though, can’t let you get a big head, Mr Hollywood.”
He nodded in agreement, “Right, gotta keep my ego down somehow.” You hummed in agreement, your hands dropping the cards to turn more toward him, “I’m glad you agree.”
It was nearing the last lap and Will was still barely hitting 100km/h. So in a last attempt to push him to go faster, you decided to do what you’ve been doing best, tease him.
“I’ll let you win the challenge if you manage to go 200Km/h on the main straight.” Will looked over at you like you were insane, his eyebrows furrowed in shock, “What do you mean let me win? I literally got all the questions right?”
You shrugged and kept your facade up, “Yeah, but you were also only going like 50 around the chicanes.” Will shook his head at you all bewildered, “And I thought 50 was being generous.”
Your laugh cut through the slightly humid air like an arrow, and it hit him right where you aimed, “Maybe for some teams, definitely not Red Bull though.”
Before you could save face for the camera you forgot was there until now Will’s foot pushed down on the gas as you felt your body getting pulled back. Will knew that lap was supposed to be the last one but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear your cute giggle one last time.
And he didn’t regret it one bit when you made him reverse all the way back down the straight and towards where the staff were standing waiting for you, his manager and yours both looking more impressed than anyone else.
When you both left the car you rounded the front to pull him into a small half-hug, which he reciprocated the second his mind began to work again. His lungs refused to breathe when you looked up at him, your eyes wide and still bright– clearly riding off the adrenaline from earlier.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr Hollywood.” You strung out his nickname a bit longer than usual, your right eye pulling down in a farewell wink.
“Bye.” He mentally kicked himself when he raised his hand into a nerdy wave, his eyebrows coming together when he realized that you might’ve actually been laughing at him when you saw it. But you didn’t say anything, only sent him one last nod.
And right when your back was turned to him with your braid still swinging with each step he called out your name in a singular breath, his hand clenching by his side when you looked over your shoulder with knowing eyes.
“Your summer break is next week, right?” At your nod he kept going, his voice shaky, “How would you feel about coming to San Jose? Maybe I could show you around the ice instead.” You smiled at him and fully turned to face him, but your feet kept walking backwards.
“I suppose I could make a stop at San Jose.” You didn’t offer any other details, and only turned back around– and he didn’t move from his spot until you disappeared around the corner.
It wasn’t until now that the 12-hour flight felt worth every uncomfortable shift in his seat. Because it led him to you, and he wasn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon.
—
yourusername
Liked by maxverstappen33, lewishamilton, alexandrasaintmleux, _willsmith2, mackcelebrini, and 10,729,628 others
yourusername no better good way to start off the summer break with p1 in budapest. see you soon San Jose ;)
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redbullracing Another Budapest win for L/N 🙌
47 mins ago 627 likes reply send
maxverstappen33 🍾🎉❤️
50 mins ago 3.6k likes reply send
❤️ by author
↳ yourusername thanks maxie
49 mins ago 5.6k likes reply send
mackcelebrini @_willsmith
53 mins ago 1.3k likes reply send
❤️ by author
_willsmith see you soon
52 mins ago 10.5k likes reply send
❤️ by author
↳ yourusername looking forward to it, Mr Hollywood 💋
52 mins ago 11k likes reply send
↳ mackcelebrini @yourusername i think you killed
him
51 mins ago 11k likes reply send
❤️ by author
user1 did anyone else see the way that one hockey player hugged y/n after her podium?
40 mins ago 100 likes reply send
user2 SHES ACTUALLY GOING TO SAN JOSE?
40 mins ago 12 likes reply send
user3 is anyone else wondering who took that photo of her? just me?
40 mins ago 16 likes reply send
user4 why are my two worlds colliding rn?
40 mins ago 61 likes reply send
❤️ by author
user5 WHY ARE SO MANY HOCKEY PLAYERS IN THE LIKES? @rutgermcgroaty if you see this can you follow me?
40 mins ago 71 likes reply send
user6 was that video a hot lap or a hot date because what was that tension?
40 mins ago 2.5k likes reply send
user7 am i the only one who still ships her with Kimi?
