#leaf imagines

[prinnay]

Nature + Fiddler

This month's (June) exclusive sticker club artwork. There are a few slots still open!

[raycatzdraws]

HATSUNE MIKU!!!

Hiiiii! :D I drew some fanart for @twilight-linkess' magical girl designs. They're adorable! (look! x x)

I love Twi's cropped jacket and the fringe and the moon phase design! I had to put him on the Master Cycle haha. I took inspiration from Linkess' fairy Hyrule drawings and gave some clover flowers to Four. His stockings are so cute!

[lilhughesy]

Falling Into You | Matthew Knies x Fem!Reader

warnings! slow burn ish, mainly fluff, mentions of weed, slightly suggestive, and secret dating

word count: 7.1k

summary: You love your job as the athletic therapist for the Toronto Maple Leafs but you also seem to start falling for one of the players on said team. You swore to not catch feelings for him since it puts your job at risk but what if the risk is worth it?

a/n: first kniesy fic for my beloved @lovesickhughes !! I enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! (ps the title actually doesn't have any correlation to the fic itself lol)

You were the few rare people who could say that they loved their job. You loved every aspect of your job as the athletic therapist for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Since the start of your career, where your professor during your graduate studies somehow made a few calls to get you your job, you’ve been so thrilled to go to work every day. Your colleagues were a pleasure to work with, your job had you on your feet — a feature which you loved, and the players you worked with were always very nice.

A part of you adored the part where you got to wear your Toronto blue scrubs with a team logo clad zip up fleece and your fun sneakers every shift. The other part loved being able to meet so many different people while you worked. And obviously, being an athletic therapist in itself was a joy.

You walked in the brisk November breeze in Toronto, with a thin down jacket protecting you from the cold that’d been building up lately. You clutched the straps of your work purse closer to your body as you crossed the street towards the arena. It was nearly 6:45 AM and the city was already waking up with the occasional car horns and the shouts from down the street.

The warmth of Scotiabank Arena greeted you as you carefully closed the door behind you. You scanned your ID to enter down the long hallway where you said a quick ‘good morning’ to others who were also just starting work. You turned the corner to the large blue-painted double doors, you fished out the keys to unlock them and pushed the two open.

Your foot kicked the door stop to wedge at the bottom to keep them open before settling your purse on the nearby table. The bright fluorescent lights flickered on as you peeled off your coat, your scarf, and your purse to shove into your small designated locker. You started to get the small clinic ready for the long day ahead of you, first by checking the stock of supplies currently in the room. You mumbled to yourself a list of things to grab from storage,

“Okay, need white tape, pre-wrap,” You sighed, rubbing your temple in slight annoyance that your colleagues hadn’t stocked up the night before, “And maybe some extra electrodes and gel-”

“Hope I’m not bothering you,” A voice spoke up from behind you and you jumped slightly from being startled, your hand was pressed against your chest to soothe your racing heart when you spun around,

“Good morning,” You chuckled with a low shake of your head, “You scared me.”

He laughed lightly before offering you a to-go cup, “Sorry sweetheart, just thought I’d drop off a coffee for you since I know you’re in for a long day.”

You smiled as you took the drink from him, “Thank you Auston, that’s very sweet of you.”

Auston shrugged, “Working the game too right?”

You nodded as you sipped at the hot liquid, feeling the bitter taste run over your tastebuds and down your throat, “Yeah, going to be needing a few more of these later on.”

He chuckled as he patted your shoulder, “I’ll see you later, I think something’s up with my wrist again that I need you to check out.”

You hummed while he pulled away to head down the hallway, “I’ll see you later then.”

You watched the captain walk away before turning your attention back to your mental list. You braced yourself for another day of treating hamstring pain, sore wrists, ankle taping, and telling each player to stop training themselves to the point of injury. They never listened to you, only a nod and uh-huh yeah got it, before they got off the treatment bed and to their next stop.

The coffee from Auston was saving you, whether it was from keeping you warm in the chilly hallways to and from the supply stock or just keeping you awake in general. You worked through your several emails and the stack of paperwork that’d been sitting on your desk in the corner of the treatment room. The paperwork was definitely your least favourite part of the job, along with updating your notes on each player. You liked to keep track of small things they’ve mentioned in sessions, just so you could monitor them even when they say that everything feels fine. It was excessive, but it was important to you.

You hummed to yourself quietly as you opened the hydrocollator heat unit, to be greeted by a wall of steam — indicating that the heat packs were ready for the day.

“Morning!” You turned around to see Mitch Marner and Auston Matthews both entering the treatment room in their athletic wear. You checked the time to see that their morning skate must’ve ended, meaning the flood of hockey players was just beginning.

“Good morning, gentlemen. How’s that quad feeling, Matthews?” You asked the team captain as he sat down on one of the beds.

You continued to have your typical conversations with the different hockey players as you treated them. Often giving them a heat pack to help with blood circulation and muscle recovery, or providing them with deep tissue therapy with electrodes being placed on their point of injury. They often told you about their weekend plans or their most recent trip, all which you enjoyed hearing since a part of you lived through them as you never really left the city.

However, there was one hockey player who never seemed to make conversation with you — not that you would force them to, but rather because the rest were always social. Matthew Knies, one of the younger guys on the team, was always quiet when receiving treatment from you. 

Every time he comes in ten minutes early, always — he’s got his AirPods jammed in and that distracted, somewhere-else look in his eyes. He lowers himself onto the treatment table like he’s thinking about the next game or the one after that, gaze fixed on some point just beyond your shoulder. He gives a flat, “Morning,” if he remembers, and holds out his ankle like it’s a business transaction.

You tape him in silence. Efficient, practiced movements. Over, under, pull, press. He thanks you in a tone that might as well be pre-recorded. Then he’s gone.

You never pressured the guys to talk, if they didn’t want to then they didn’t have to. You don’t take it personally. Some players are chatty, some aren’t. Some want to talk about recovery protocols and shoulder mobility; others just want to get in and out. He’s young, focused, intense in that way rookies often are. You just did your job and what you’re being paid to do, which is treating them and assisting their recovery since their job as professional athletes takes a toll on their bodies physically. Although you noticed it was odd since you’d seen Knies outside of the treatment centre where he was loud, rowdy, and constantly joking around with his teammates. But then again, he could just be one of those people who open up to people that they’re comfortable with. You didn’t blame him, besides it wasn’t your job to psychoanalyze him.

So you continued to work the way you typically did, never minding the quiet when Knies was on the bed, “This okay?” You asked him as you attached the final electrode to his lateral ankle while your other hand started the IFC machine, “Not too high? I can adjust it if it’s uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, not looking up from his phone as his thumbs typed away, “No, you’re good.”

You nodded as you pulled away and started to clean up some of your supplies that were left on the table. You kept track of the time on your Apple Watch for Knies’ electrode treatment as you dropped some white towels into the used bin and reorganized the tape into their designated spot.

“Hey,” Mitch said to you as he poked his head in, “Just wanted to say that those stretched your prescribed for my wrist last week have been working wonders! It’s been feeling great and I didn’t notice any pain during practice today.”

You smiled at him, “I’m glad! I still want to check up on it later though.”

He nodded as he leaned against the doorframe, “Also, that Italian restaurant on Bloor St is fantastic — Steph and I stopped by to get a bite and the food was amazing.”

“The place you’ve been meaning to try?” You asked, to which he hummed an agreeing response, “I’ll definitely check it out with a few of my girls sometime soon.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Mitch chuckled before noticing the younger player on the bed, “Is he always this quiet?”

You glanced over to Knies, seeing him still focused on his phone, “Yeah, he’s typically like this but I don’t mind.”

Mitch shrugged, “He’s always a big yapper so I’m surprised Kniesy can actually shut up for once. Anyway, I’m heading out for a bit before the game, catch you later.”

“Bye Mitch,” You laughed to yourself as he waltzed away.

The guys were playing some sewer ball before their game with some music playing off of one of their blue tooth speakers. It echoed the concrete walls and floors along with their laughter and occasional chirps. Matthew was chatting with Willy while clutching onto his plastic water bottle,

“Yeah man, I dunno,” Matthew shrugged, “Just hoping they’d stop calling me about it, it’s just a pain in the ass.”

Willy barked a laugh before looking past Matthew’s shoulder to wave a small hello to whoever was behind him. He didn’t care to check, assuming it was another one of the guys or something. It wasn’t until Willy pulled away from their makeshift circle to grab the extra iced coffee that stood on a box and jogged in that same direction.

Matthew turned around to see Willy handing the drink to you, and watched as a large smile drew upon your face as you took the drink from him. He assumed you were thanking Willy as your hand placed onto his forearm before you pulled away and disappeared down the hall.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Willy said to Matthew as he returned, “What were you saying?”

Matthew furrowed his brows as he also tried to recall the conversation between the two of them, “Fuck, I can’t remember- Who was that?”

His eyes widened, “You joking right?”

Matthew only rolled his eyes, “No dude, who is she?”

“No fucking way, man!” Mitch laughed from the other side of Matthew, “Are you for real, Kniesy?”

“That’s Y/N, our AT,” Auston told Matthew with a mocking smile on his face, “I thought you went to get treated for that ankle pain today”

Mitch lowly shook his head in somewhat disbelief, “He did, I saw him there but he was so focused on his phone the entire time. Didn’t realize he didn’t even know who our AT was.”

A chorus of laughter filled the area as Matthew scoffed, “Alright, alright knock it off. So what if I don’t know Y/N, I’m sure Joey doesn’t know her either.”

“They’re actually really tight,” Willy told Matthew, “They grab coffee and chat pretty often outside of here.”

“So, you’re saying that I’m seriously the only one who didn’t know her name?” Matthew repeated as he watched all his teammates nod their heads and stifle their laughter, “She’s so quiet, it’s legit not even my fault.”

Auston rolled his eyes in amusement, “She’s the opposite, that girl is so chatty. You just ignore her when you’re getting treated.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

It was before their game and you were preparing for the multiple tape jobs that you need to do for each of the players. You noticed it immediately, the no AirPods. It’s the first thing you clocked when Knies stepped into the room. He paused just inside the door, glancing around like he’s not quite sure where to stand. You’re restocking the tape tower, kneeling beside a cart with a roll of white in one hand and your clipboard in the other.

“Hey,” He said with his voice low.

You looked up at him, noting his voice, the direct eye contact, and no earbuds.

“Hi,” You replied with your friendly tone as always.

He walked over and sat on the treatment table. You rose to your feet and grabbed the pre-wrap, keeping an eye on him as you approached. 

“Same ankle?” You asked as you crouched down.

“Yeah.”

You start wrapping, muscle memory taking over. It’s quiet for a beat, a little too quiet. He’s not scrolling his phone nor zoning out, he was just watching you work.

“This song’s new,” He spoke up, catching your attention away from his ankle.

You glanced up with a confused expression written across your face, “Sorry?”

“The playlist,” He clarified, “I haven’t heard this one before.”

You arched a brow, “You’ve been coming in here with your AirPods in for three months and now you’re commenting on my music?”

He flushed as he looked away, “I was… focused.”

“Uh-huh,” You said with the corner of your mouth twitching, “Well, thanks for noticing. It’s a new mix.”

He nodded like he’s not sure what to say next while you finish taping and pat his ankle lightly.

“All set.”

Knies doesn’t move right away, “You, uh… ever go out with the team after games?”

Your eyes narrowed just a little, “Not usually.”

He nodded again as he pushed himself off the table, “Cool, just wondering.”

You blinked as he left the room, leaving you confused as ever with his change of behaviour. But you didn’t let it bother you too much since you still had to treat all the other players before their game against the Kings, as you heard Mitch’s loud voice from down the hallway that snapped you out of your trance. 

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The next few days brought more of the same. Knies kept showing up without his AirPods. You caught him hovering a bit longer after his treatments. He asked if your sneakers were new. Another time, he pointed at your coffee mug and said, “That quote’s funny,” even though it wasn’t particularly as it was just another cheesy mug you had grabbed in the check out line at Winners a few weeks ago. It was like watching a large dog try to act like a cat — awkward but kind of endearing.

He still didn’t talk much, but he was trying and you could tell. He'd meet your eye more often. Occasionally he'd mirror your small talk with asking if you had plans for the weekend, if you liked Italian food, if you’d ever tried paddleboarding of all things. Each time, it felt like he was pushing himself just a centimetre or two out of his comfort zone.

“You don’t have to make conversation, you know,” You said to him one morning while wrapping his wrist, “I’m not taking attendance.”

He gave you a small sheepish smile, “I know, I just feel like I should’ve learned your name from you and not from the guys.”

“You’re only the last one to do it, no big deal,” You teased with eyes twinkling in amusement.

He groaned, “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

A few weeks later, it was a back-to-back game weekend. You were exhausted, your lower back aching from leaning over treatment tables for too long. You had just finished setting up post-game recovery stations when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned, and there was Knies and he was holding a smoothie.

“You looked dead on your feet,” He said awkwardly, holding out the drink towards you, “This one’s supposed to help with muscle soreness. I think… or maybe it’s gut health. Either way, it’s not poisoned.”

You blinked, as you slowly reached out for the plastic cup, “Did you get this for me?”

He shrugged, “Figured it was the least I could do.”

You took it slowly, unsure if this was a prank, “Thanks, that’s really thoughtful.”

He shoved his hands into his hoodie, “You uh, do a lot for us. Most of the guys don’t really say it, but I noticed.”

Something about his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t smooth or rehearsed. It was genuine.

“Thanks, Knies,” You said to him with a warm smile, trying not to stare too hard at his dark lashes or the faint pink on his cheeks, “I’ll take gut health over muscle soreness any day.”

He chuckled, “You’re welcome, and you can call me Matthew by the way.” 

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You started to notice his presence around you more when you were hauling a bulky crate of foam rollers and resistance bands from the storage room. The wheels on the crate had been jammed for weeks, and dragging it across the hallway carpet was like shovelling the March time sludge off of the longest driveway. You were bracing yourself for the familiar strain in your shoulders when a quiet voice piped up behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You turned, eyebrows already lifting in surprise.

Matthew stood there and out of his training jersey, fresh from a shower, curls still damp and sticking to his forehead as he held a protein shake and eyeing the crate. You’d almost said no, but instead you stepped aside.

He grabbed the other end with ease, hauling it down the hall like it weighed nothing, and didn’t say another word until you both reached the clinic treatment room and dropped it with a dull thud by the back shelf.

“Thanks,” You said to him, still slightly bewildered.

“No problem,” He replied casually, like he did this kind of thing every day.

Except he didn’t, not until recently.

After that, it became a pattern. He was suddenly everywhere but not in an annoying way, not in a suffocating way, just present. One morning you caught him restocking the tape tower while you were juggling a phone call and trying to log a player’s treatment report. He didn’t ask, he just saw you struggling and silently stepped in, peeling the shrink wrap off the white rolls and sliding them into place, one after another like how you always had them shelved. 

You had paused, still cradling your phone between your cheek and shoulder, to glance at him.

“You volunteering as an intern now?” You joked as you entered the treatment report into the system on your laptop.

He smiled without looking at you, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, “Figured I’d start pulling my weight.”

Professional boundaries, you reminded yourself. You weren’t here to flirt or banter or let one of your clients, no matter how good his jawline looked under the soft lights of the clinic or how his compression shirts made his shoulders and biceps look delicious, get too close.

But he, Matthew Knies, made it so damn hard.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

It became even harder after the coffee.

One morning, your name was called from the hallway just as you were rubbing the sleep out of your eyes in the supply room. You stepped out, brows raised, only to find Matthew standing awkwardly with a cardboard drink tray in hand.

“I uh, this one’s yours. No cream, just one sugar, oat milk, extra hot, right?”

You blinked twice, trying to understand the situation in front of you, “That’s… yes.”

He looked visibly proud of himself as he handed it over with a smile growing on his face.

“I saw the look you gave Auston last week when he brought you a hazelnut latte thing with soy milk,” He admitted with a slight grin, “Figured I’d pay more attention.”

You were too stunned to answer right away. Your heart did this little somersault in your chest, a gentle flutter of surprise that threw your entire day off-balance. You wrapped your hands around the warm cup, letting the steam hit your nose.

“Thanks, Matthew,” You mumbled with a small smile tugging at your lips.

And maybe he noticed because the next time, it was banana bread and then a small paper bag of roasted almonds, then a Tupperware container of pasta salad which he responded with a sheepish, “My sister makes too much and makes me take leftovers,”

You told yourself it was just friendly. A rookie trying to be nice. A player making an effort. How it was no different from you and Joey grabbing a coffee on Thursday mornings at the local coffee shop, or how Mitch would ask for your input when he was buying a gift for Steph, or how you would go shopping with Auston because he liked hearing your take on his fashion style. Even then, something about Matthew felt much more different than any of that.

It had been a long double-practice day and your feet were sore even with your new orthopaedic approved sneakers. Your hair was shoved into a claw clip that you only ever used when you were too tired to bother styling it. Your voice was dry and hoarse from repeating the same instructions to four different defensemen who didn’t know how to foam roll properly. You were exhausted beyond belief, and it didn’t help that Toronto was getting so cold with winter settling into the city.

The final lights in the arena clicked off behind you, and you wrapped your fleece jacket tighter around yourself as you stepped out into the early night. The snow fell softly down, glazing the sidewalk in a thin layer of white. You adjusted your toque and scarf and turned toward the TTC stop when you heard a car honk.

A sleek black SUV idled near the curb as the driver’s side window rolled down, and there he was, yet again.

“You’re not seriously walking to the subway in this,” Matthew called out to you, noticing how your nose was turning red from the windchill.

You tilted your head at him, amusement threading into your voice, “What, worried I’ll freeze into an ice cube? Don’t worry the station is just another block away,”

He shrugged, clearly not hearing you out,  “I’m not letting you take the train, Y/N, get in.”

You hesitated then stepped off the curb and headed to his luxury vehicle.

Inside the SUV, it smelled faintly of eucalyptus and leather and the faint residue of a vanilla air freshener clipped to the vent. Warmth blasted from the heater vents, fogging the windows slightly.

He didn’t make a move, didn’t say anything cocky or smug. Just kept his eyes on the road, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the indie playlist you’d always had on in the clinic.

You turned your head slowly to look at him, the city lights passing in golden streaks outside the passenger window.

“You really pay attention to things, huh?”

He glanced at you, then smiled, “Only the important ones.”

Your stomach flipped, goddamn it.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

And you don’t know when it started. Not really.

There wasn’t a single moment, there was no sudden cinematic shift where everything changed at once. It was slow and gradual. A soft, barely noticeable tilt. Like the way shadows stretch longer as the sun sinks lower — inevitable but subtle, until suddenly the whole world looks different.

Late-night texts that used to be about injury updates or recovery times quietly shifted into something else. “Let me know you got home safe” turned into “Wish I was driving with you again.” Quick check-ins became inside jokes. He started lingering after treatments, offering to help you close up by reorganizing the Theraband drawer, restocking the massage oil cabinet, just anything to stay a little longer.

Sometimes, he didn’t even say anything and he’d just be there. Sitting on the edge of the treatment table, head tilted, a lazy smile on his face while you moved around the room like a storm on legs. Watching you, he was always watching.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything more than being friends, that he was just friendly and that it was harmless – until the one night where you let him kiss you.

It was after an away game and the team was exhausted, the bus ride quiet, the locker room half-empty. You were restocking bandages behind the clinic curtain when he found you — just appeared, like he had a radar for when you were alone. Matthew said your name softly, and when you turned around, his eyes were warm and uncertain.

“Don’t yell at me,” He murmured, “I know I’m pushing my luck.”

You didn’t yell, you actually didn’t say anything at all. You let him take a step closer and let his hands hover near your waist, you let your forehead press against his chest for a heartbeat. You felt his heart speed up at the close proximities of your bodies, and then you let him kiss you — soft and slow, like he had been planning for this moment, and you kissed him back.

Now it’s a secret because it has to be.

You have rules, both personal and professional, and this breaks nearly all of them. He gets it and he understood where you were coming from. It was against the policies at work for both of you. You talked about it once, when you were curled up in the back of his car at 1 AM, headlights from passing traffic slipping like ghosts across the ceiling. You told him you weren’t ready to risk everything you worked for.

He nodded, “Then we don’t risk it.”

You’re not dating, not officially but the lines blur anyway.

There are late-night drives and kisses stolen in utility closets and locker room back corridors. His hoodie smells like cedarwood and worn leather, and you start keeping it in your office, telling yourself it’s for emergencies but wearing it when you stay too late. He picks up your coffee order without being asked. He knows the way your eyes dart when you’re overstimulated, how you braid your hair tighter when you’re stressed. He doesn’t say much, just appears when you need him — with food, or a smoothie, or his knuckles gently brushing yours like an unspoken “I see you.”

You think you’re being subtle when in reality you’re not.

Auston Matthews noticed, of course he did.

It starts innocently enough, during post-practice cooldowns, when guys are distracted and the room is buzzing but he sees the way Matthew’s eyes flickered over to you as you entered the space with various resistance bands. 

One day, he side-eyed Matthew during stretches and mutters, “Someone’s chipper today, you finally get a new mattress or what?”

Matthew just grunted, brushing off his captain, “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

“Mmhmm,” Auston hummed as he grinned, “Weird. You’ve just been very smiley lately.”

Matthew doesn’t respond and doesn’t even look at him, but you saw the way he tightened his grip on the resistance band in his hands.

Then Auston turns his attention to you, it was slow, at first. Barely-there comments dropped into casual conversation.

“Is it just me or do you look extra glowy today?” He asked as you passed by during the gear check.

You snorted with a shake of your head, “It’s sweat, Auston.”

“Still works for you,” He told you with a wink.

Matthew was across the room, watching and you could feel it. That simmering weight of his gaze, the way it darkened and sharpened, as Auston continued his not-so-subtle comments on you.

The next time Auston made a cheeky comment was with a, “You ever think about being a model instead of a therapist?” Followed by a knowing look, “Because you’d kill it.”

You nearly dropped the ice pack in your hands and your face immediately heated up and flushed pink, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Auston grinned, folding his arms behind his head as he laid on the table, “You’re wasted in this job, too pretty to be patching up sweaty hockey players all day.”

The room got too warm and too quickly, you cleared your throat and turned away, fumbling with your clipboard.

Later, when you slip into the staff hallway, you feel a presence behind you, big and familiar and silent. Then a hand slides along your wrist and tugs you into a quiet alcove between two supply closets. A familiar scent of cedar, winter air, and his warmth.

He’s already kissing you before you can say a word. It’s rougher this time. A little desperate. His hands bracket your hips and his mouth is all heat and frustration, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead dropped to yours.

“You okay?” You whispered out as your hands landed on his broad muscular shoulders.

He doesn’t answer right away and his breath fanned across your cheek.

“You’re mine,” He told you quietly yet possessively, “Even if no one knows it.”

Your heart stuttered, warmth filling your chest and abdomen at his tone and his words.

“Someone’s jealous,” You said with a half-teasing voice.

“I’m not jealous,” He mumbled, though the heat in his voice betrayed him, “I just don’t like hearing someone else flirt with you.”

You look up at him, “Technically, I’m not yours.”

His jaw clenched as he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, “We both know that you’re lying right now.”

The words hang in the air between you, unspoken and dangerous and too, too tempting.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

It’s nearly midnight in New Jersey.

The hotel hallway is hushed, the kind of quiet that hummed with sleeping bodies and the occasional distant whirr of the elevator. A storm rolled through earlier, leaving a cushion of snow on the ground. You should be in your room, replying to emails or icing the bruised winger who swore he didn’t need treatment but would absolutely complain tomorrow morning.

But your feet moved before logic could catch up. Down the carpeted corridor, past the ice machine still rumbling in the corner room. Your hoodie was zipped up to your chin and you didn’t bother brushing your hair. You clutched a bag of ice packs against your chest like some excuse to be here.

Room 427.

You hesitated just outside the door, heart beating too loud in your chest.

Then you knock softly, just once.

The door opens almost instantly as if he’d been standing on the other side, waiting for you.

Matthew looked like he hadn't slept either. His hair is tousled, damp around the edges like he just ran his hands through it under the sink. He wore grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and no shirt, a lazy crease down the middle of his chest where he must’ve been lying down. The lamp on the nightstand behind him casted a low golden glow across the room, warm and sleepy and intimate.

You don’t say anything and neither does he. He just stepped back, letting you in.

You move on instinct both quietly and cautiously — as if even the walls might be listening. The door clicks shut behind you with a finality that settled like a stone in your stomach.

“This is a bad idea,” You murmured, still not looking at him.

“Probably,” He agreed, with his voice just as soft, “But you’re here anyway.”

You glanced up.

He’s watching you the way he always does like you’re something fragile, something sacred, something he’s scared to touch too much for fear of breaking it.

The bed is unmade with the blankets scrunched up. The television is off. There’s a protein bar wrapper on the desk and his phone charging by the lamp. It’s all painfully ordinary, except for the tension stringing between your bodies, pulled so tight it might snap at the slightest move.

You dropped the ice pack bag on the chair, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

He takes a slow step toward you, by the time he’s close enough to touch, your breath has already hitched in your throat.

“You can still go,” He said almost like he meant it, “I won’t stop you.”

But when you don’t move and you don’t even blink, his hand rises, curling gently around your wrist. You feel the anchor of him, the warmth and steadiness that he always seemed to provide.

Then he kissed you.

It’s not urgent, not this time. It’s slow and meaningful. Like he’s memorizing the feel of your mouth, your breath, the curve of your jaw under his fingertips. 

You end up on the bed, tangled limbs and quiet sighs, your hoodie halfway off, your body pressed to his like you’ve been waiting your whole life to breathe in this exact air. He pulled you against him afterward, arms wrapped around your back, his chest warm and flushed against yours. There’s no words being exchanged, just the rhythmic lull of his heartbeat against yours.

You're curled up against him with your fingers grazing the soft line of his ribs,

A knock.

You jolted, immediately sitting up with his strong arms still across your thighs.

Then a voice, “Yo Knies? You up?”

Your body goes rigid as every nerve in your body catches fire.

It was Auston.

Knies sits up, already grabbing a hoodie from the chair to pull over his naked torso.

You’re flying off the bed before he can say anything, grabbing your melted ice bag, heart hammering.

“Bathroom,” He whispered, “Now.”

You darted across the room and slipped inside just as the lock clicked open. The bathroom is cold and silent. You press your back to the door, hands shaking. Your breath comes in quick, clipped bursts.

You can hear them on the other side of the door.

“Didn’t mean to barge in,” Auston said, his voice casual and slightly amused, “Saw your light was on. Got anything to eat?”

You imagined Matthew plastering on that half-lazy smile he wears when he’s trying to look unbothered.

“I dunno. Check the desk.”

There’s a pause before the unmistakable rustle of wrappers, then,

“Your room smells like vanilla,” Auston commented.

Your eyes squeezed shut.

“And... is that menthol?” Another pause, “You hiding your favourite therapist in here or what?”

The silence after that stretched for long, too long.

Then Matthew laughed low and easy, like it was all a joke, “You high or something?”

Another pause, then the shuffles of feet.

“Whatever, I’m taking your last protein bar.”

The door shuts again and you don’t move. At least not until Matthew opened the bathroom door, his face pale with adrenaline, hair a mess from dragging his hand through it a hundred times.

“I’m so sorry,” You said to him instantly, the words cracking out of you, “That was so fucking stupid, I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop,” He told you, gentler this time.

You meet his eyes. He’s still looking at you like you matter. Like you didn’t almost ruin everything and like you’re worth the risk.

But suddenly all the guilt, all the pressure, all the hiding — it swells up inside you like a flood.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” You mumbled quietly, “This sneaking around, it’s not just about me anymore, Matt. If anyone finds out, it’s your career too. Your team. I’ve worked too hard to be respected here. And now I’m scared every time someone looks at me too long.”

He nodded and he didn't interrupt, he just let you talk.

“I told myself I could handle it and that whatever this is would be temporary. But then you do shit like text me when I haven’t eaten, or notice how I wear my hair when I’m stressed, or memorize my coffee order like it matters,” Your voice cracked, “And suddenly I’m not just scared of getting caught. I’m scared of what it’ll feel like when this ends.”

His hand finds yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

“You think this is temporary?”

You opened your mouth, but the lie died before it could even take shape, so you closed your eyes instead.

“I don’t want it to be,” You admitted to the hockey player, “I think I’ve been pretending I don’t care because if I say it out loud, it becomes real. And if it’s real... I don’t know how to protect myself anymore.”

Matthew took a breath before he took a step closer, “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

And something inside you finally comes loose. You fall into him, arms around his neck, face pressed to his chest, and you let yourself believe it. You want more. Not just the touches in the dark. Not just the late-night kisses and whispered hellos in empty hallways.

You want him fully, loudly, and messily – and maybe it’s time to stop hiding that.

The next evening, the air in the practice facility feels thick but not with humidity, but with tension you couldn’t shake. You kept your head down, hyper-focused on stretching routines and inventory counts, acting like you didn't notice the way Matthew kept orbiting near you. Like you can’t feel his eyes grazing your skin like a touch he’s not allowed to give.

But you feel it, every time. The looks, the brushes, and the silent pleas hidden in those ocean-blue eyes when he caught you biting the inside of your cheek or fiddling with the lanyard hanging around your neck.

And worst of all, you feel Auston watching everything with a smirk he’s not even trying to hide.

You're helping Willy with a resistance band when you hear it.

Low. Casual. Razor-sharp.

"Didn’t know you were so hands-on with the team,” Auston said from across the room, his voice just loud enough to carry, "Guess I should fake an injury, see what I get."

Your throat tightened and you glanced up, and he's looking right at you, wearing that boyish grin that means trouble.

Next to him, Matthew stiffened – it was subtle, but unmistakable. He was leaning against the treatment table, arms crossed, jaw clenched. The flicker in his eyes wasn't amusement, it contained fury.

“Knock it off,” He said to his captain through gritted teeth.

Auston raised his brows, amused, “What? I’m just saying she’s good at her job.”

You cleared your throat, “I’m right here, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Auston grinned even wider, “Trust me.”

You feel the heat rise in your face before you can stop it and that’s the worst part – that your body always reacts before your brain does, and that Auston and Matthew both saw it.

He turned away abruptly, you could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

You fled to the supply room, with heart pounding in your ears, and hands shaking as you started reorganizing the tape shelf for the fourth time today. It was stupid, and you knew it, but it’s easier than facing the fact that maybe you’ve lost control of this. Of yourself.

The door opened behind you, softly with no knock. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“You can’t keep doing that,” You said, without looking up from the various rolls in front of you.

“Doing what?”

“Letting it show. You think no one notices, but they do. Auston definitely does.” You explained with a slight scoff in your voice.

“He’s a jackass.”

“He’s perceptive.”

You hear him exhale – low, frustrated, and then the room gets smaller and warmer. You felt him step closer, and then he's there, behind you, not touching, just existing too loudly in your space.

You turned, and his eyes locked on yours immediately.

“You’re shaking,” He told you softly.

“No, I’m not.”

He reached down and gently pressed his fingers against your hand. You hate how steady he feels, and how steady he makes you.

“You don’t have to keep pretending,” He mumbled out, “Not with me.”

Your laugh comes out brittle, “Matt, you don’t get it. I can’t afford to mess this up. If anyone higher up finds out-”

“So let them, let them find out.”

Your chest tightened, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I’ve never meant anything more.”

There’s silence for a moment. You could hear the hum of the vending machine outside the room, the dull thud of a puck dropping to the floor in the hall.

“I’m so tired of hiding,” He confessed with his voice low and almost hoarse, “I’m tired of pretending that you’re not the only thing I think about every fucking day. That I don’t look for you in every room. That I don’t get pissed off when I see someone else making you smile.”

You blinked and your breath caught in your throat.

“I want to show you off,” Matthew continued, stepping closer, “I want to take you out. Sit next to you on the plane and not pretend it’s a coincidence. I want people to look at us and know, I want them to know you’re mine.”

The door opened behind him before you could speak.

Mitch.

He stopped mid-step, Gatorade bottle in hand. His eyes instantly widened, comically wide, as he took in the scene – your flushed cheeks, Matthew standing too close, both of you frozen like teenagers caught by a parent.

Auston appeared right behind him now also seeing the same thing, and grinned like a devil who just won a bet.

“Well, well, well,” Mitch said slowly as he dragged the words out like he’s savoring them, “That explains helluva a lot.”

Matthew doesn’t flinch. He turns his body halfway, planting himself in front of you protectively like it’s instinct, like shielding you is second nature.

Without hesitation, he said, “Yeah. She’s with me.”

You inhaled sharply.

Mitch blinked twice while Auston looked like Christmas came early for him, 

“Okay, okay, Kniesy. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“No shit,” Mitch told Matthew while shaking his head, “Okay, I owe Willy fifty bucks.”

Auston cackled, clapping Mitch on the back as they walked away allowing the door to shut again.

Silence.

You couldn’t speak and you couldn’t move. You just stared at Matthew, who looked more grounded now than he had in weeks. Like the dam finally broke and it didn’t ruin him, rather it freed him.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” He admitted, eyes softer now as they searched yours, “But I don’t regret it.”

You swallowed hard, “Matt…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just please, stop pretending you don’t feel it too.”

He looked at you like he already knew the answer. Like he’s not afraid of the risks anymore and in that moment, neither were you.

Your lips met his immediately, as if they sealed the deal to the question he was asking. He melted into you, his arms pulling you by your waist closer to his chest as he felt your body relax at his touch.

"You already know what I'm going to say to that," You teased before pecking his lips lightly to which he responded with a large boyish grin.

[lightsoutmatthews]

Alone time – William Nylander

summary: people and things keep interrupting the limited alone time you had with your boyfriends (3 + 1)

pairing: William Nylander x female!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: +18 (NSFW content!!), mentions of period, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v intercourse, dirty talk, cum inside

authors note:

first time writing a full on smut scene, hope its not too bad lmao

------------------------------------

When Alex signed with the Marlies

Hosting Alex in your and Williams home after he signed a contract to play hockey for the Marlies, the Leafs AHL team, was obvious. There was no reason for him to live in a hotel or search for a place, when you had a perfectly good guest room right here in your apartment.

It was nice for a while, you and Alex had become good friends over the course of your and William´s relationship which lead to easy conversations, many laughs and an enjoyable overall atmosphere in your shared home.

At first, at least.

At the beginning you didn’t really notice how intimacy slowly crept away from you and William.

There was less touching around the house, especially when Alex was around. No more heated kisses on the couch while watching a movie, because Alex was right there with you. No more experiments in the bedroom, mostly opting for something quick and quiet, neither of you knowing when Alex would come home.

And you slowly started to miss how your relationship was before Alex moved in with you.

How you made out against the kitchen counter before putting off making breakfast just to go back to bed. How he pressed you against the door after the two of you got home from one of his games, no matter if it went good or bad.

It was like you were tiptoeing around each other in your own apartment just to accommodate.

This morning you leaned against the counter, preparing a cup of coffee for you, before going to the living room to read.

William was still asleep when you got up, Alex would get home from a road trip with the Marlies today which made you debate if you should wake him up to go at it once more before he got back. But the ache between your legs from the night before was so strong you decided against it.

The coffee maker rumbled as you turned to look out one of the massive windows on the other side of the kitchen and dining space.

Winter was slowly spreading over the roofs of Toronto, the chill slowly creeping through the walls of the building.

You got lost in your thoughts looking outside. The upcoming holidays and team events, visiting your family, William and Alex´s parents and sisters coming for a visit in a few weeks. Only snapping out of it when soft kisses were placed on your shoulder and big hands wrapped around your waist.

“Good morning, älskling.” His voice was warm in your ear. “Good morning,” you whispered back before leaning into his touch. This was the first morning in a long time where it was just the two of you.

“Sleep well?” he asked while grabbing the mug out of your hand and taking a big sip. “Hey,” you laughed before turning around to face him. His hair was disheveled, sticking up in multiple directions, his eyes still dark from being asleep mere minutes ago.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked at him with a soft smile. “I always sleep well in your arms.” A soft laugh bubbled out of him before he looked at you with the softest expression of love and admiration which had you lean forward and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

When you tried to lean back, he tightened his grip on your waist and pulled you chest to chest, deepening the kiss while doing so.

His hands slowly began to wander under the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. Tracing soft circles over your back before stopping at your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

You began tracing the outlines of his abs. Him not bothering to put on a shirt before coming to find you coming in handy.

You made out against the kitchen counter like love-sick teenagers, and you enjoyed every second of it. “We should take this back to the bedroom,” William whispered against your lips before carefully lifting you up, you automatically wrapping your legs around his waist. “If you´re not too tired from last night,” he added with a wink.

Shaking your head laughing you pressed another kiss to his lips before he started walking towards the bedroom. But before you could even make it past the living room the front door opened. The dogs rushing past you to greet the new guest.

Instinctively you uncrossed your legs from behind Williams back and dropped back down on the floor. A frown creeping up on your face.

Your boyfriend grabbed your hands before you slipped away. “I´m sorry,” he whispered before pulling you into another quick kiss.

2. Surprise visit from teammates

Two weeks later you and William sat on the couch, watching a movie. Alex left for another road trip a few hours ago which finally left you alone with your boyfriend again.

He didn’t have a game today, but he spent the morning at practice and the afternoon in meetings with the team and his agent, so this was the first time you had him to yourself since.

He proposed catching up on your show but both of you knew that you would not focus on that for long, so you opted to watch a movie. A comedy that didn’t need much attention span.

While the both of you too tried to focus on the movie but about 10 minutes in his hands began to wander and within 5 minutes of that you were lifted onto his lap.

“This is not focusing on the movie,” you giggled when he started to trace soft patterns over your back.

“What do you expect from me; this is the first time I´m getting you alone in what feels like weeks.” You held back a sigh that was about to leave your mouth as to not ruin the mood but obviously William picked up on it.

“I know the situation isn’t ideal right now, you wouldn’t believe me how much I miss waking up in the morning and being able to make out in the kitchen without being subjected to my brother minutes later or evenings like this.”

The sigh you were holding left your mouth. “I know, Will. But he´s your brother, I would never ask you to kick him out.” He started to scratch his beard. “I know, but I will talk to him about it. I promise.”

You nodded before burying your head in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. A mix of his typical shower gel as well as his cologne. “Until then I guess we´ll just have to make do with the time he´s gone,” you mumbled against his shirt before placing a line of kisses from his collarbone to his cheek before moving on to his lips.

William wrapped his arms around your hips, keeping you firm in his space as you kissed. His hands slowly wandering over the curve of your ass before hooking into the waistband of your leggings.

But before you could go any further the doorbell rang. A simultaneous groan escaped your mouths. “Let it be, we´re not home,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again.

Unfortunately, the bell rang again a minute later and then again, a minute after that.

Reluctantly you removed yourself from your boyfriends lap, moving to the intercom to check who was interrupting you.

“Yes,” you bit into the machine, pressing the button to let the person on the other end answer.

“It´s your favorite hockey player,” Mitch Marner´s happy voice shelled back to you. “And Steph, Auston, Matt and Joe are here too. We´re getting dinner and you´re coming.” You bit back a grin at the prospect of the five of them standing on the sidewalk at the entrance of your building.

William, who heard the entire exchange groaned behind you but both of you knew it would be rude to send them on their way when they made it all the way here before leaving for dinner.

You didn’t have plans originally and God you wished they hadn’t shown up but you hadn’t seen Williams teammates in forever.

“Hello?” Mitch belted from the intercom. You took a deep breath, looking at your boyfriend who gave you a short but firm nod. “Fine, come on up, we need to get ready first.”

3. your period

You were laying on the couch, heating pad pressed against your stomach as you tried to breathe through the painful cramp that was rattling through your entire body. Your period had unexpectedly arrived two days earlier than expected and you cursed your body for it.

This was the last road trip Alex would be on for a while before your parents would come over for Thanksgiving and soon after their family would arrive to spend some time here before Christmas.

The Sweden based Nylander´s wouldn’t stay at your place but you knew they would be here every day and while you loved Williams family with all your heart you dreaded the even fewer alone time you would have with him.

You had looked forward to the next two days. He would return from his road trip in a few hours, and you wanted to spend the night going on a dinner date before having a relaxed evening at home. Given they just got home you didn’t have any expected visits from Williams teammates that could interrupt anything either.

Unfortunately, your body had other plans.

Despite taking two pain killers earlier the cramps didn’t go away so you spent the majority of the day curled up on the couch with the dogs giving you comfort. The TV played a re-run of one of your favorite shows you had put on to not suffer in complete silence, the lights were dimmed because alongside the period cramps a headache slowly started to form in the back of the head and the bright overhead lights would just make it worse.

-----------

You didn’t even have the energy to lift your head when William arrived a few hours later. The dogs ran to greet their dad and based on the voices you heard coming from the hallway he was equally as excited to see them as they were to see him.

“Where´s mom?” He asked the doodles, and you immediately pictured Pablo and Banksy’s offended expressions. “Älskling?” He then asked into the quietness of the condo.

You thought about answering but opening your mouth seemed like too hard of a task. He would find you eventually.

When Pablo trotted back to the couch William wasn’t far behind him. You didn’t see the expression on his face, but you could imagine from the many times you had seen it before. A blend of concern and confusion.

His familiar scent reached your nose as he stepped closer, his steps dulling as he stepped from the hardwood floors onto the carpet. “Hey,” he whispered, his hand tenderly brushing over your cheek as he kneeled in front of you. “What´s wrong?”

His voice was laced with concern. His brows furrowed when you let out a pained hiss when another cramp hit your body, and you shrank together shortly after.

Having experienced this many times before he obviously immediately knew what was up. “Oh sweetheart,” he kept whispering. “What can I do to help? Do you need another blanket? Chocolate? Some tea?”

Your heart flattered at his sweet voice. “Can you come cuddle?” you breathed out. You didn’t need to look up to see that there was a soft smile spreading on his face. “Of course. Let me go rinse and change real quick.”

He left you alone with a kiss to your cheek and the dogs resting on the carpet in front of you like they were deemed to protect you.

When he returned 20 minutes later, he was dressed in a pair of shorts and a hoodie. His phone in one hand, a bowl filled to the brim with your favorite ice cream topped with whipped cream and sprinkles in the other.

You hadn’t heard him rumbling around in the kitchen, but you appreciated him knowing exactly what you needed. In the end he´s been through it almost a million times.

He placed the bowl on the table before nudging Banksy out of the way to get to the other end of the couch. He shook up the pillows and then flopped down right on top of it. But he didn’t stay there long.

A second later he reached for you and carefully pulled you against his body. Making sure he wasn’t making the cramps worse by moving you too much.

After you were safely tucked against his chest, he grabbed the heating pad and softly placed it on your lower stomach again before wrapping his strong arm around you. “I´m sorry we can´t have the evening we planned,” you mumbled, the warmth of his body as well as the one coming from the heating pad making you sleepy immediately.

“Don’t worry about it, älskling,” William whispered and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You just rest, we have all the time in the world.”

+1. When the time was finally right

The tension had been building the entire day.

When you woke up to William was placing soft but urgent kisses to the back of your neck but he had to get up to get ready for morning skate.

When he came back, he saw you in the kitchen, only wearing one of his shirts because you couldn’t motivate yourself to leave the bed until shortly before he came back.

He had toyed with the rim of the shirt before rubbing his hands over your bare back, sending shivers down your spine. But he had to stop himself again to get into his pre-game routine.

You cooked him his pre-game meal while he eyed you up and down sitting at one of the barstools on your kitchen counter.

You did the same thing to him when he appeared from his closed dressed in a black suit. You bitt your lip at the sight of him, imagining taking the suit off him later.

After the game, that luckily ended with the Leafs taking home the victory, you barely made it through the door before both of you finally snapped.

He kissed you with urgency. Dropping his keys and his phone on the tray next to the door carelessly, ripping your purse from where it was hanging on your shoulder, dropping it mindlessly on the floor before he attacked your neck.

Slowly but determined he moved you to the bedroom and shut the door behind you, not wanting to risk the dogs interrupting.

Sometimes they had no concept of personal space.

He set you on the bed with ease and took a step back. Your breath was shallow as you watched him with a playful gleam in your eyes.

His gaze was glued to you as you got up, hips swaying as you approached him. “What are you doing?” His voice stained.

“My turn to make up for all the times we´ve been interrupted,” you murmured.

You could see his jaw tighten as you tugged down his slacks, them pooling in a chaotic huddle at his feet. You licked your lips, eyes trained on his dick staining behind his boxers.

You moved your hand between the two of you to rest against him, grazing the outline with teasing strokes.

He inhaled deeply, clearly fighting to stay composed. You knew the last thing he wanted to do was lose control before you had even put your mouth on him. But at the same time, you knew that it was so hard to maintain it when your skilled fingers were intent on torturing him with every stroke.

You slowly dragged his boxers down and looked up at him, touching his abs beneath the dress shirt he was still wearing. “Off,” you commanded. He quickly obeyed and started to undo the buttons, top to bottom, tossing it off to the side.

He watched intently as you wrapped your hands around his dick and let out a hiss when you gave it a gentle squeeze. Moving your hand up and down unhurried, in steady strokes.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

You lifted your hooded eyes to meet his as you lean forward wrapping your warm mouth around it. Winding his fingers through your hair you knew his eyes were rolling back. Keeping the motion up for a few minutes, never going to quick but always going steady, you heard him hiss out soft sounds of pleasure.

A groan when you abruptly stopped, tracing his dick with your fingertips. A low hum rumbled in his chest, his restraint slipping with every second that passed.

You ran your tong along his dick again, this time applying pressure to the vein. He let out a guttural groan when you swirled your tongue around the crown and back down. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he breathed out.

He entertained your game for another few seconds before stepping back and lifting you off the ground. “Get out of these clothes.”

“You have two hands, Will, use them,” you teased him. “You better watch it, I´m in charge now.” Goosebumps shivered down your spine at the thought.

He tugged your top over your head and dropped it to the floor, right next to his dress shirt. His hands were back on you within seconds, unclasping your bra.

You had to suppress a groan when your breasts spring free but there wasn’t much time to think about it because he pulled your pants down until they pooled at your ankles like his did just minutes before.

You let out a sharp exhale when he started to trace lazy circles on your thighs. His fingers reached your panties, slowly dragging them down you grabbed his shoulders to keep your balance.

His ocean-blue eyes sparkled at the sight of you naked.

Grabbing your hand, he brought it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “God, you´re perfect like this,” he said pressing a kiss to your forehead. The tender action a strong contrast to the heated atmosphere of the room.

You smirked at him, climbing onto the bed and crawling into the middle. Spreading open your legs.

The mattress dipped as he joined you, hovering above you for a second, taking everything in before he leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. “I´ve been waiting to do this.”

“Will,” the nickname falling from your lips like a prayer. You knew there´s hardly anything better for him than to have you at his mercy.

He takes a hold of his dick, solid as granite, looking like it was aching to be inside you. He guided the tip into your pussy, a hiss leaving your mouth as you clenched around it.

“You can take it, we both know you can,” he whispered against your ear, placing another soft kiss to your forehead.

Once he was fully inside, he didn’t waste a second before starting to snap his hips in a steady rhythm. You meeting him eagerly with every single thrust. Loud moans you were holding back many times when others were around finally being set free.

“Damn, älskling, you feel so good. You were just made to take me.” His voice was hoarse. Another loud moan left your mouth.

His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, groaning when you opened you mouth to let him in. Sealing his mouth over yours in a possessive kiss, the taste of the both of you mixed sweet on your tongue.

You moaned against his lips when he picked up the pace even more. “I can feel you´re almost there, baby,” he grunted.

“God, yes,” you mewled.

He reached down and rolled your clit with his thumb, and soon enough you were both barreling towards your releases.

Pleasure surged through you as you unraveled below him.

He held you tight as you rode out your orgasms together, nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent as he carefully eased out of you.

“I´ll be right back,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

He returned moments later with a washcloth, knowing if he would clean you up now it would have to wait until tomorrow and neither of you wanted you to sleep like that.

After making sure you were all set, he climbed back into bed behind you and pulled you against his chest. Silence lingers as you laid wrapped up in each other’s arms, a soft smile spreading on your lips as he looked down on you.

“Worth getting interrupted all the other times we tried to do this?” You huffed. “I love your brother and your teammates but no.” He let out one of his signature laughs and pulled you even closer into his chest.

“I´ll make sure they´ll leave us alone a little more often.”

[nylwnder]

little secret

a/n: hiiiiii bbs, sorry for the long gaps between fic drops for this series, life hates me and sometimes i just dont have the time to write </////3 or the motivation which is worse. waahhhh!!! HOWEVER, i was gifted some free time the past month, and because i love you guys so so much, i birth to you all: my first am34 fic <333333

pairing: auston matthews x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! sex toys (lush toy), edging, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, cockwarming, swearing, auston being in loveeeeee, secret relationship, confession of feelings

word count: 3.4k

taglist: @shoot-the-puck , @lukepangburn118, @eastoncowan , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay , @fallinallincurls , @andrea9 , @dylpickle4791 , @biznastysloneshift12 , @dramatic-queen

series masterpost

the vibrating feeling in between your thighs made you grip the edge of the counter top, almost dropping your drink. a moan escaped your throat as the pressure increased, your legs bucking before you felt yourself coming close to the edge.

“please please oh please” you mumble quietly but then the vibrations disappear all together again. you take a deep breath with a little whine.

you walk back to the couch, setting your small snack on the coffee table. watching as the leafs began to make it back out to the ice for the third period. knowing the teasing would take a break for the rest of the game unless he so happened to have his phone on the bench too.

—

it all started with a birthday present. a more mischievous gift for a relationship that's just freshly bloomed in the last few months. but your relationship is open and free and gratifying like that.

it was a small, curvy, hot pink toy. one that has devilish capabilities with the mere connection to a phone app. auston knew you would love it, and you also knew he would use the toy to its fullest potential—edging and overstimulating your folds as much as he can. and you do in fact love it, so it isn't surprising that you obliged when he handed it to you this afternoon. a mischievous grin on his face.

“need you to put this on for me, baby” he mentions gently, handing you the toy.

you take it in your palm, already imagining the impending feeling between your thighs. “when would you play with me though?” you ask, pondering the thought on how he’d manage in front of the team, nevermind the coaching crew.

he grins again, “i'll find a way. just need you to be a good girl and keep it in until i come home okay?”

you nod, biting your lip.

“i'll be nice, i promise” he mentions with a kiss to your cheek before a kiss to your lips.

—

unless his idea of nice was having you edged every single fucking time his finger began to play with the controls of the toy, then he was in fact nice. you were flustered, frustrated, being edged to reach any sort of release. you squirmed and whined as it tickled the bundle of nerves inside of you again as the team prepared for press. ready to discuss the well earned blowout win against the ducks, and the sixth hattrick of the season for auston.

you couldn’t deny it, auston looked so good out there on the ice—working the puck around bodies like nothing. and it made your heart swell that during the intermissions he couldn’t help but take the time and think of you, play with you, but oh did you want him home. in your arms so he can do you right.

you weren't even sure if you were overstimulated, even though he's been playing with you on-and-off for the past three hours and a half, you just wanted to cum. and oh god please on his cock.

—

auston kept his interview short and sweet, wanting to make it home earlier than usual despite the attention and requests regarding another outstanding performance. he wanted to get home to you.

the boys noticed his eagerness to skim through the usual routine, poking around and asking him if he's got a girl waiting at home. he gave a low smile, not discussing further than that. they didn't know about you yet. nobody knew.

being your boyfriend, he wasn't thrilled about the public eye getting a glimpse of you just yet. sure, he wants to take you out to a fancy dinner, hold your hand while you're walking home from the movies. of course he would want to show you off to the boys just so they can chirp him about how he landed you. but you were too special. too soft, kind and sweet. too perfect, he thought. he didn't want anyone to say otherwise, anyone to try to ruin you. the day will come when they know your name, sure. yet even when the moment arrives, when everyone finally lays eyes on you, he knows he’ll still be a protective force. always. if that means you’re his little secret for now, then so be it.

right now, you were all his. without anyone knowing. his warm soul. his dripping core. the one that he wants… no. he needs. right now. so badly.

—

when he got home his belongings were quickly discarded to the side. auston relishing in the warm and soothing atmosphere you have created out of his apartment, his senses welcomed by the sweet smell of you. the house always felt empty those nights you couldn’t be with him. your presence had brought a light to the home that it never had, that none of the other flings managed to spark.

he noticed your lounge pants laying near the couch in the living room. your slippers discarded on the other side. he moved forward to grab them, but placed it back down when he noticed your shirt near the entrance of the bedroom. a smile grew on his face.

a few steps forward granted him a beautiful view—his favourite view—the sole reason why he rushed through the toronto night traffic.

you sat at the edge of your bed in a satin lingerie slip. your hair was messy in that pretty way that framed your face, the way that made aus bite his lip in admiration. your lips softly pouted a “missed you.”

your legs slowly opened apart, showing your arousal from the night sopping through the fabric of your underwear. auston gave a low groan, and licked his lips.

“need you. so bad.” you whine.

he walks towards you, and you instantly wrap your legs around him to connect your lips. his grip on your hips yanks you higher onto the bed, allotting him space to get on and tower over you. you nip on his lip as you both break for air.

“you were mean” you murmur. he smirked, “i promised you i'd be nice, that's why i'm gonna make her feel so much better” he says, cupping your dripping core.

you whimper, “please”

his fingers hook on your panties, pulling them down and throwing them to the side. he reaches for the tail of the lush toy, making sure to gently pull the rest of it out. you squirmed at the emptiness, aus seeing the way your entrance clenched around nothing.

“you did s’good, baby. taking it like a good girl” he mutters in your ear as his lips attach to your neck. his wet kisses mixed with his nipping move down to your collarbone, then to the tops of your breasts.

he makes sure to keep his work up until he knows purple and red marks will litter your skin in a couple of hours. making it difficult for you to hide them everytime you leave his apartment. god forbid your friends see them. you're not in the mood to be forced to disclose any more details about your boyfriend. you just wanna keep living in this little bubble the two of you have managed to keep.

not yet. just a little longer.

“mmm, you looked so good out there baby” you manage to mutter. trying your best to not get lost in his kisses but sometimes it's just too hard.

you can feel his smile against your skin. “thank you” he says, kissing on top of his mouth’s handiwork before grabbing you by the hips and bringing you to sit down on his lap.

“your sixth hattrick. not everyone can do that” you speak again, smiling, running your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.

his smile didn't leave his face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “…nevermind the fact that this was your second back-to-back hatty” you say against his lips.

this time he begins to blush, in what you think is quite literally the most beautiful way possible. you can't help but to kiss him again. he looks down while squeezing your hips before looking back up and letting out a light chuckle. “we gonna keep talking about it or are you going to let me celebrate with you? hm?”

it's your turn to flush a bit. embarrassed you may have been discussing something in a situation where you shouldn’t even be talking in the first place. but you couldn't help it, you wanted to give him all the possible affirmations you could.

“m’sorry” you reply, wrapping your arms tighter around his frame, endeavouring in the taste of his mouth once again. you can feel the mint from the gum he was chewing on the drive back home. it relaxes you.

one of his hands stays pressed on your spine, scrunching the material of your night slip between his fingers, while his other hand travels down. his large palm shamelessly grabbing your ass, moulding your flesh to the shape of his fingers. your skin quickly heats up again and your mind swirls over the rhythm of his tongue against yours and the bulge growing beneath you. aus presses you down, hard, against his clothed lap, it feels like he's already fucking you. but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your folds and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

he sticks in a finger and you subconsciously bite down on his lip. he hums before sticking in another and you accidentally do the same thing again. there's a burning feeling between your thighs, perhaps you are overstimulated after all. but that's not stopping you. you still want him to help you to that finish line that he so cruelly didn't let you reach.

he pumps in and out a bit, making sure you’re wet enough. that was surely a fact, with the way your juices covered his fingers so exceedingly. anticipation continued to build inside of auston, causing the bulge between his thighs to strain against his dress pants. hes been thinking about you the whole night, and your pussy even more.

you untug auston’s shirt, allowing you to unbutton his pants. he helps you pull them off of his legs, while you take off his shirt from his sculpted chest. you run your fingers down his torso, following the lines that shape him. his lips connect to your neck, immediately finding your pulse point. you grind down on him and he allows a groan to escape his lips and echo in your ear. you smile.

“can i take this off?” he asks, tugging at your slip.

you nod needily, the cold air hardening your nipples at the exposure. auston can't help but groan again, yanking you up so he can attach his lips to them. you whine sharply, feeling the tip of his cock nudging near your entrance as well.

he releases your one nipple with a “pop”, sinking you down on his length before you can even make out a sound.

“m’fuck” you mumble, your body ablaze.

“god you’re truly the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” he says. holding your hips back to get a good look at you.

“auston…” you whine at him, blood rushing to your cheeks again in slight shyness. however your walls clench around him.

“let me compliment you.” he laughed, helping your hips sway against his lap. left, right, up and down, it all felt exactly how you wanted. perfect.

your cunt was soaking wet. the sounds the two of you make where your bodies connect is unholy. auston’s fingers have a tight grip on your love handles, trying his best to keep himself together for you. he chose to focus on littering whatever skin he can reach with more marks, making sure you remember you’re his when you wake up tomorrow morning.

with all the emotions and sensations it truly doesn't take you long to feel the addictive feeling deep in your stomach again. eyes fluttering shut, mewls escaping your pink plump lips, boobs swaying gracefully with your movements, it's like a scene out of a dream the way your walls have a snug grip on auston’s cock. shes perfect, he notes to himself.

he holds you close to him, before moving you to lay down on the bed. he pushes his hands under your thighs and lifts your hips. the position slides him even deeper. makes his cock push up into you, into that spongy part inside that forces your eyes to roll back even more. your thighs begin to tremble.

“take me so good baby, s’like you were made for me.”

“i am.” you respond, because he’s made you honest. in the delirium of him, you’re saying what you’ve had buried inside of you for the past months, waiting for moments like this. with the way he makes you feel it's impossible not to think this way. my god, you’re sure you love him.

with your breathing heavy, recovering from your high, auston groans against your lips––pumping himself into you like a man fueled by pure hunger. the warmth of his cum spilling into you makes you all the more lightheaded.

you grip at the nape of auston’s neck, bringing him in for a kiss. both of your lips already hot pink and puffy. but the need to ground each other is so strong.

the euphoric feeling of relief from your earlier pent up frustration begins to make your body soften. your head felt more vulnerable and you couldn't suppress the words any further. “aus..” you say, kissing his lips before looking him in the eyes. he gives out a small hum in acknowledgment.

“i-i love you. i really do.” your hands squeeze the ends of his hair in anticipation of his response.

did you know that a 6’3, beefy, sassy hockey player can feel butterflies? cause auston is pretty sure he just did. a smile crept up from the corners of his mouth and overtook his entire demeanour. you couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

“yeah?” he asks softly.

you nod, auston’s hands moving to drop your legs and grip your sides instead.

“i love you too, baby.” why wouldn't i? you're too good to be true.

a feeling of bliss overtakes your body. pent up emotions finally all out on the table. its been a lovely set of months now and perhaps you both are ready for that next step.

both of his hands interlock with yours, moving your arms up and over your head. the grip is snug and safe. you can picture holding hands in the cold weather, his palm big and warm enough that you don't need mittens like you used to.

his lips meet yours in a slow gentle kiss. your cheeks blush at the thought of kissing auston straight from the locker room, or his lips leaving a peck on your forehead as you two wait for a table at a restaurant.

the little things.

a whimper leaves your lips, an angelic sound, and an unconscious reaction to auston’s kisses. you can feel auston twitch inside you. so in response, you rock your hips upwards.

“there she is,” he smirks down at you, “there’s my fucking dirty girl.” he notes the dreamy glint in your eye, “you want some more, huh?” you bite your lip, nodding. auston pulls out, just for a moment and your pussy aches at the cruel feeling of emptiness.

kneeling in front of you, aus guides you to turn to your side, straddling one of your legs and grabbing the other one to curl around his side. he aligns himself to your entrance and pushes in without hesitation, already missing the warmth of your wet walls. he continues with his sharp thrusts, one of his hands moving to play with your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. moans fill the space in the room, and slips of his name fill in the gaps.

the stimulation you feel is so fucking good, for lack of better terms. in contrast to his earlier teases, his thrusts don’t seem to stop anytime soon and you couldn't be any more grateful. your cunt clenching around him so tight that auston hisses, groaning deeply. he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.

“you’re fucking purring angel, like i didn’t just cum on your pretty pussy. what am i gonna do with you, huh?”

his words make you cry, looking up at him with doe eyes, urging him to bring you to that beautiful edge. “fuck dontstop–so close–so close–” you mumble out quickly. searching for his hand laying on top of your breasts, you tangle your fingers around his again, he squeezes them lovingly. your cheeks fill with a blush tint.

“didn’t plan on it, baby.” he says, making his other hand move to your clit, pressing to rub circles around it, then triangles and then squares and then fucking diamonds. god you didn’t know you just wanted him to keep going and drive you through that burning feeling inside of you.

and so he does, eliciting more sounds from your soft lips along with shivers down your body. he whispers to you how beautiful you are in your ear, while he cums in your sweet cunt once again. you’ll never get over that feeling.

auston grabs you close as he flips the two of you, allowing him to lay down on the pillows, your body sprawled on top of him. his cock still snug in you. you softly hum, this position letting both of you settle down from your shared highs. aus feels your smell calm him, the faint scent of your floral shampoo steadying his breathing, his heartbeat relaxed. he has never felt so safe, so comfortable.

he didn’t want you to move, not even dare to leave this warmth the two of you have created. he's used to getting up after a sexual endeavour like such, two people going their separate ways, hell he's even urgently guided girls out the door. but you? never. if he could keep you here, with him–just him–forever, he would.

you felt auston slowly get soft inside you, and you took that as a queue to take a quick trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up. trying to detach yourself from the soft and gentle embrace of your boyfriend was hard, you didn't want to leave him.

“where are you going?” auston asks, grabbing your waist as you sit up from his chest.

“just the bathroom.” you mention, getting further up and feeling him slip out of you. you let out a small instinctive whimper to the loss. you notice the pout in his eyes, “i’ll only be a minute, don't worry.”

auston was hesitant to let go of your hand, missing the soft feeling contrasted to his rough hands, despite the fact they aren't as calloused as they could be. you smiled at his clinginess, it truly was a compliment. you got up and swiftly made your way to the bathroom mats, as the cold floor sent a quiver up your body. after cleaning yourself up you looked at yourself in the mirror while you washed your hands. you could see the love marks appearing around your breasts, not an uncommon place to find them. aus makes sure to leave new ones each time they start fading.

you make your way back to the bed, seeing auston settled in the sheets. he looks at you with genuinity. a twinkle in his eye. love pouring out of his tender gaze. your skin grows hot. you smile and drop your head to his shoulder once you reach him. “you should see the look on your face”

“what?” he asks curiously.

you look up at him, after wrapping your legs around his own. “you look absolutely smitten.”

he smiles. “good.” he exclaims. proud.

you are quick to get soothed back into his pool of warmth, along with his hand running against your back. here and there reaching the top of your bum, before making its way back up.

you think about your shared confession from earlier. the weight of those immense feelings towering over the two of you gone. all the opportunities and possibilities at your fingertips. “so when do you think i’ll get one of those cute playoff jackets the wives and girlfriends get?”

“you want one?” auston asks, you can hear the smile in his words, if you chose to lift your head you would probably see the smirk too.

“yeah,” you reply, playing with the fingers on his other hand. “i want to be at every game.”

“i’ll make sure you’re the first to get yours then.” you now chose to look up at him, your own happiness radiating across your face. “promise?” you ask, lightly giggling.

“promise.”

“good.”

[ enjoyed reading? join my taglist! : click here <3 ]

[cuteandhughesy]

Crawling Back To You ╰┈➤ MK23

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

[word count] 19.9k (…whoops)

warnings: MATURE! enemies to lovers | the slowest of slow burns. like seriously buckle up | emotional cheating? kinda not really? | thoughts of infidelity | drinking | intense make out scene | kind of a unfinished ending (sorry in advance) | suggestive scenes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

🎵 do I wanna know? by hozier (cover), every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police, pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine, wrong by zayn, your needs, my needs by noah kahan, each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex, if I can't be with you by olivia obrien, + I would by one direction

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't  have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones  "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous. 

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff.  "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific. 

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you  call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[ilyasorokinn]

mic'd up , william nylander

note, a playoff fic in february? who is she?! this fic is part of "the nylander diaries" series. check out this masterlist for more. another note, I was inspired by that video of gavin giroux mic'd upin that one video, and archie debrincat in this video. i love hockey kids guys, what can I say? pair, william nylander x reader summary, leafs fans love the nylander kids, so what better than to have them mic'd up for their dad's playoff games? warnings, kids/children word count, 1564 words

(gif not mine)

"Leafs Nation, my name is Sebastian," Sebastian smiled, proudly showing off his toothless smile.

"Julia!” Julia cheered, clapping her hands.

“And we’re going to be mic’d up for the game,” Sebastian explained.

The next clip showed both kids walking through the underground of the arena in their special denim Nylander jackets, you walking not far behind them, "What're you guys most excited for?" You asked.

"Seeing Papa," Sebastian responded.

"Seeing Carlton," Julia responded.

"You aren't excited to see Papa?" You laughed.

"Carlton." She repeated with a stern nod.

Julia and Sebastian continued to walk down the hallway before they finally made it to the glass. You were earlier than normal, due to the need to get both kids mic'd up.

"What does your sign say, Seb?" You could be heard off camera asking.

Sebastian, with the help of Julia, turned around and showed the camera the sign that had been working on all day, proud smiles on both of their faces, "Go #88" it read, scribbles and drawings from both kids scattered around the poster.

The cameras followed the siblings down the tunnel, filming all their interactions, before they finally made it to the glass, "That's where Papa is going to come out of." Sebastian pointed to the opposite side of the ice where the tunnel was.

Eventually, Julia got tired of standing and wanted to be held, so she turned to you and raised her arms up. You smiled, picking her up and sitting her on your hip, "Are you gonna cheer really loud for Papa?" You asked, kissing her cheek.

"Hmm-mm." She nodded, distracted, "I want fries." She whined.

You and Arynne, who had been conversing before Julia came over, laughed, "Alright, after warmies, we'll get fries, alright?" You reassured her. You and Arynne somehow distracted her long enough for the lights to turn on, and the crowd started cheering, a sign that their Leafs were coming out.

"Papa, Papa!" Sebastian muttered to himself, his eyes moving around the ice trying to find his dad, "Where's Papa?" Sebastian whined, looking up at you.

"Hold on, I don't think he's out yet." You told him, watching the entrance, trying to find number 88, "Wait, look, there he is!" You pointed, and Sebastian quickly looked back out onto the ice.

"Papa!" He cheered, jumping up and down. William took a full lap around the ice, getting acclimated before he finally spotted you and the kids.

He tossed a few fans a puck before making his way over to the family section where Sebastian and Julia were waiting for him. Julia wiggled in your arms when she saw Will skating over.

"All right," You set her down, bending down to their level so you could really see their faces, "Who's that, guys?"

"Papa!" They both cheered. From the other side of the glass, Will waved, the biggest smile on his face. He blew them kisses before reaching through the photo hold and handing the attendant who was there a few pucks. The man then handed them to Sebastian and Julia, who both smiled happily.

"Can you say 'Go Papa!', Juju?" You asked, shaking her shoulders. She slapped her hand on the glass when he put his gloved hand to the other side.

Eventually, warmies ended and, with one kid on your hip and the other kid walking alongside you, you were on your way to your seats, "Are you excited, Seb?" You asked, looking down at him as you walked through the tunnels.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, "Can you hold my hand, mama?" He asked, reaching up for your hand.

"Of course," You clasped your hand through his, "Do you want to see Papa after the game?" He nodded again, "All right, we'll go down to see him after, too."

"Fries, mama" Julia repeated the same words she had said earlier.

"All right, we'll go to our seats, then we'll get fries."

You left Sebastian at your seat in the care of Steph while you and Julia went to get dinner. You knew from an early age, that Sebastian was going to be a hockey player. He loved to watch the games on TV, he would watch film with Will, he had gone to practice with Will a few times, and when you were at games, he wouldn't look anywhere but the ice.

"Did you see your dad, Seb?" Steph asked him, slipping his water bottle back into his backpack.

"Yeah, and he gave me a puck!" Steph gasped when Sebastian showed her the puck.

"Wow, that's so cool!" Steph cooed, her eyes wide as she examined the puck, "Did he see your sign, too?"

"Yeah." Sebastian's eyes were glued to the ice as the Zambonis drove across the ice, "I want to ride the Zamboni." He stated.

"You do?" Sebastian nodded, "All right, let's talk to your mom first." You came back with Julia, who was happily munching on her french fries, and Steph filled you in on what Sebastian had said.

In turn, you shot Will a message, asking if he could get Sebastian on the Zamboni. He worked his William Nylander magic, and Sebastian had gotten his wish and was going to ride the Zamboni during the second period.

The game started, and all throughout the first period, Sebastian and Julia were in and out of their seats. At one point, Sebastian was even standing on top of his seat, and shouting "Go, Papa!" as loud as he could.

"Do you see who has the puck, Juju?" You looked over at Julia who was still happily munching on her, now cold, fries.

"Papa." She giggled.

"That's right." You kissed her head, a smile on your face as you looked over at Sebastian, who looked like he was way more into it than his sister.

A few minutes before the end of the first period, an usher came up and told you you'd have to down to ice level. So, you left Julia with her favorite aunt, Auntie Steph, and made your way down to ice level.

Once you made it down to ice level, Sebastian took everything in, and you couldn't help but smile at his reaction. Her eyes were wide and his mouth was open.

"Are you excited, buddy?" You laughed.

"Yeah." He wasn't even looking at you when he talked, "Zamboni?"

"Yeah, you're gonna ride the Zamboni." You nodded, "And you're gonna get to wave to everyone."

"Yeah." He nodded again, but his eyes were glazed over as he watched the game. The timer ran down to zero, and you lifted Sebastian up into the seat next to the driver.

"Look, there's Papa." You grabbed his attention and pointed over to the bench. Each of the guys made their way off the ice, but not Will. He stayed seated on the bench, his phone in hand.

"Papa!" He shouted, waving. Will was watching the entrance like a hawk, and waved back, taking a picture of him.

You waved as the Zamboni made its way onto the ice, and watched with a smile on your face as Sebastian waved to everyone he could. The Zamboni finally passed the bench, and Sebastian waved like crazy.

"Papa, I'm on a Zamboni!" He shouted.

"I can see that." Will laughed, holding his phone up to record the moment. Sebastian smiled and continued to wave to everyone.

After the Zamboni had gone over the whole rink, you made your way back up to your seats, "Did you see me, Auntie Steph?! I waved up at you and Juju." Sebastian jumped around.

"I did!" Steph laughed, "I waved back."

"I didn't see that." He admitted guiltily, "But I waved really big." He stated.

The rest of the game continued on the same as the first period. Sebastian cheered for every goal, regardless of who scored, and Julia slept soundly in Steph's arms, her beanie replaced with a pair of headphones with a giant 'JN' on one ear and an '88' on the other.

After the game, while Steph carried Julia down to the locker room, you carried Sebastian who was slowly losing steam, "Tired," He muttered.

"I know, but Papa's almost out." You reassured him, running a hand up and down his back. The guys started coming out, but when Will came out, Sebastian's attention shifted from you to his dad.

"Papa!" He cheered, wiggling in your arms, and you set him down, watching him run over to Will, who picked him up and kissed his head.

"Hi, bud." Will laughed, "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah." He nodded, "I rode the Zamboni." Sebastian stated, seemingly forgetting that he had waved to his dad while riding past. He let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Today was long. Let's get you home, bud." Will kissed his head again, grabbing his bag before making his way over to you. He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Steph was greeting Mitch, Julia still in her arms, "She had fun, too." Steph joked, "Fell asleep halfway through the second."

"A new record." Will joked, "Before we go tho, we have to say goodbye to all your fans, Seb."

Sebastian barely lifted his head off of Will's shoulder as he looked at the camera that had been following him the whole night, "Bye, Leafs Nation." He waved.

"Julia says "bye" too." Will joked, waving her little hand at the camera.

-

my taglist: @lam-ila @2manytabsopen @lady-laura-speaks @laurenairay @kolsmikaelson @bowen-power @kidlnthedark @fallinallincurls @boqvistsbabe @sc87 @iwantahockeyhimbo @lifeofpriya @nylwnder @cixrosie @mitch-slap

add yourself to my taglist!

[sydnikov]

Donut || M. Knies

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Matthew Knies / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Figure skating is no longer a sport you compete in, the decision to quit having been made years and years ago, but the magic you feel everytime you step on the ice will never fade. It’s why you coach in Toronto, but you’ve never coached at the Toronto Maple Leafs’ practice arena before—Matthew Knies just so happens to see you on your very first day, and is immediately obsessed. His charm and wittiness win you over easily, even though you’re apprehensive at the start.

Warnings: Cursing, kissing, kinda bad proofreading, and a disgusting amount of fluff

A/N: The hockey player x figure skater trope nobody asked for except it’s written by someone who *actually* figure skates 🤭 This is so silly and way too cute omg but it’s for @lifeofpriya for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! <3

Cold. So cold.

It’s the first feeling your body registers as the shrill sound of your alarm blares through the quietness of your small apartment on a dark, dreary December day in Toronto.

You quickly pick up your phone from the nightstand it was charging on, eyes shrivelling shut at the brightness before you turn off the alarm. Once it’s off, you take a moment to contemplate why you make yourself do this after so many years but never bring yourself to quit.

Figure skating. Your lifeline and also your death sentence—at least you’re convinced it will be, eventually.

It’s the only thing that makes your five-thirty in the morning wake-up worth it, even as you remove yourself from the warmth of your bed.

You’re convinced you can see your breath once you turn on the light in your bathroom, holding back a shiver as you tie your hair back to brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s better to just start getting ready immediately, a routine you picked up way back in your early skating days, lest you fall back asleep.

Growing into your teens, you found it harder and harder to put yourself through the gruelling early hours that competitive figure skating requires, and there were only so many laps of power pulls you could take in punishment for being late before you had to come up with a solution to keep to your schedule.

Dragging yourself out of bed the moment you become conscious is, unfortunately, the only solution that worked, and still is, unfortunately, what you do now even though your own competition days are over.

You don’t skate for you, really, not anymore; you skate for your students, all five of them that you coach at different times throughout the week. Anna, the sixteen year-old girl who you have at eight o’clock sharp this day, is your only source of motivation as you finish your makeup and hair for the lesson.

Normally you don’t bother with a super kept-up appearance for your coaching lessons, but this day in particular has you coaching at a brand new rink, and you figure that first impressions to whoever you may or may not meet will matter.

The rink you usually coach at - an older place that’s definitely seen finer days and on the outskirts of Toronto but close to you - is finally being put out of its misery, as you like to say.

(It’s just getting a well-deserved renovation.)

An hour later, you’re all bundled up and ready to face the frigid Toronto air that awaits you. You have on three top layers total: a normal long-sleeved shirt, a thick jacket, and then your winter coat on top. You then have leggings to skate in with sweats over top to brave the elements, and those along with your coat come off once you get to the rink.

As you step out into the hallway which immediately opens to the outdoors, you quickly lock up before shoving your gloved hands in your pockets and swiftly make your way to the train that’s supposed to get you to your new rink.

Actually getting on and boarding is the easiest part; it’s so early in the morning that few occupants means little waiting time, one of the only saving graces of waking up at such an ungodly hour.

Once you’re settled, you plug in your earbuds and wait out the forty-five minute ride to your new rink.

“Morning,” The employee attending the front desk greets you after you walk into the rink, a little less than an hour later. “You have a pass?”

Your attempt at a smile is feeble, it still too early for you to bother putting on a social facade. “I’m a coach, I have a lesson here in twenty minutes.” You hold up the pass you printed out days in advance after registering on their website, transferring all the required credentials from your old rink.

The woman, probably about ten years older than you and looking just as exhausted as you feel, scans the barcode on your pass and waves you on. “Women’s locker rooms are down the hall on the right, there’s a door to the training rink in there too.”

“Thank you,” You say before following her directions, briefly admiring all of the Maple Leafs memorabilia covering the walls and ceiling.

Growing up, you never got into hockey—figure skating was your whole life and completely revolved around it, so any hobbies you picked up were separate from the ice entirely.

You did it for your sanity, but also because like most skaters, you grew to be annoyed by hockey players’ obnoxious presence. Not only were they cocky, but they tore up the ice with their complicated drills that zamboni refreshings never quite covered.

Stepping into the women’s locker room, you stopped in awe at how updated and nice it was. Fresh paint, large toilet stalls and showers, even the floors didn’t have you cringing at the thought of walking on them without your guards on.

Now, there’s still very much a hockey theme present; you suppose you weren’t going to escape that here with it being their practice rink, and all. You weren’t exactly happy to learn that tidbit of information, but at least you have early lessons, so the crowds that likely always show up wouldn’t be here at seven-thirty in the morning.

It’s five minutes later that your student for this session, Anna, saunters in, skates already adorned in a cute workout set that as a teen you would have loved, but now in your twenties find it wouldn’t keep you warm enough.

She looks as if she could take on the world, bright-eyed and full of youthful energy you admire her for having so early in the day.

Geez. You sound like you’re fifty.

“Good morning, Anna,” You greet her, sending her a smile as you quickly go through some stretches to get your legs warmed up. “Ready to get choreographing? I have about half of your long done so far.”

A long program, or a free skate, is a four minute routine that all types of skaters have for competitions. It requires a balance of all the technical elements like jumps and spins but also artistry, or how well one performs to the music.

It’s your least favorite type of program because it takes the most amount of time to perfect and is also hell to perform; if you think four minutes doesn’t sound that bad, imagine having to fly across the ice at top speeds all while maintaining elegance, power, and accuracy in every movement you do—all on blades.

“I’m so excited,” Anna replies, clapping her hands together. “I’ve been listening to my music nonstop since, like, you first suggested it to me.”

“That was over a month ago before we even settled on it!” You laugh, finally joining her in putting your skates on.

While you don’t skate professionally anymore, you still have a pair of skates you use when you actually feel like skating for fun—the skates you can safely jump and spin on. The skates you wear for coaching, an extremely worn-down pair that looks off-white now with the leather peeling off on the sides, have most definitely seen better days.

But they’re extremely comfy and perfect for recreational skating, which is all you do while coaching and is why you keep them.

“Alright,” You finally say, standing up and rubbing your hands over your arms which are slightly cold in your jacket now that your coat has come off. “Let’s go. You’ve skated here before, right?”

“Mhm!” She answers, leading the way out of the locker room and into the rink, the fresh ice glistening in the early sunlight coming from the windows up high. “I haven’t skated in this rink though. There’s like four in here and they’re open on different days.”

“You’ll have to show me the ropes one day,” You muse, following your student’s lead as she steps onto the bench, removing her guards before stepping onto the ice.

You don’t really have any intention of coming here unless you have to coach, though.

“Okay, then!” You announce, smoothly stepping onto the ice and gliding towards Anna who is getting ready to warm up. “I want you to warm up your edges, as well as your single jumps, got it?”

Anna salutes, not mockingly but rather endearingly. “Yes ma’am!” As she immediately takes off, you do your own on-ice warm up, though much less intense than hers.

While you won’t be skating her program fully - as in, doing the jumps and spins it requires - you do have to show her the footwork, which requires your body to be properly warm for all the edge work and artistry.

The ice lost its magic for you long ago, when skating became more about winning than having fun. Nonetheless, you still find satisfaction in the deep ripping sound as your blades sink into the ice, a sign of strong edges and good technique drilled into you at a young age.

As you go through your own warm up, you swing your arms up and around your chest loosely, trying to get your whole body as pliant as possible. While you do so your eyes wander, peering through the windows curiously.

The rink still isn’t full yet; you see only a mom and two little girls, an older man with his wife, and a group of maybe four men who had just walked in.

“I’m ready!” Anna suddenly announces, gaining back your attention as she skids to a quick stop in front of you. “Want me to plug in the music?”

“Nah, there’s no need,” You reply. “I can just play it on my phone. It’ll get too chaotic with it playing over the speakers.”

She nods in return, and you gesture with an arm to follow you to the center of the ice. “Alright, I have you starting here in the middle, but it doesn’t need to be exact because I’m having you do toepick steps in a spiral pattern…”

Meanwhile, Matthew Knies is cold. He should be used to it by now, but he was born and raised in Arizona where temperatures rarely drop below fifty degrees Fahrenheit during the day in winter. In Toronto, however, where a good day is above ten degrees?

He’ll just say he’s gotten used to his teammates teasing him when he shows up to practice bundled up in five layers of coats. His Slovakian ancestors would be ashamed.

This day is no different; stepping into the familiar practice arena for his team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, alongside some of his closer friends on said-team: Joe, Auston, and their captain, John. Matthew holds his arms close to his body, ignoring the snickers from Joe.

“Hey, it’s only negative six today! That’s five degrees higher than yesterday!”

Matthew looks at his friend with wide eyes. It only takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the temperature in Celcius, not Fahrenheit.

“I still don’t know what that means in Fahrenheit,”

Joe laughs again, bumping their shoulders together as John and Auston check in at the front desk for them. “It’s really not that different once you learn, you know,”

“Another day, Joe, another day,” Matthew laments, laughing himself as Joe rolls his eyes. He holds back his chirp when John whistles for the two to follow, already several steps ahead of them.

Conversation forgotten, the four make their way to the assigned practice rink they’ll be using for the day. They’re one of the first groups to arrive, as the place is practically deserted at seven-thirty in the morning.

Matthew pulls his phone out of his pocket for a moment to scroll through his notifications, blindly following his teammates. He’s steadily ignoring them until Joe suddenly groans, the goalie swearing under his breath.

“Man, there’s gonna be holes all over the ice now—”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He laughs, only looking up to follow his friend’s gaze to where only two girls take up the ice. He immediately spots the figure skating blades and fully plans on teasing Joe about being afraid of some toe picks until one of the girls suddenly turns, and he immediately has the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Her face is flushed, likely from a mixture of the cold and skating, and her hair has tiny flyaways that she keeps trying to brush away. She’s also clearly a coach based on her coat that has ‘COACH’ in big, bold letters across the back. She’s doing some complicated, confusing footwork all up on the toe pick until stepping out, all long legs and loose arms.

Matthew’s throat dries up. She looks like an angel.

“Now, the fuck are you talking about—”

“That’s my wife.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, Joe, that’s my wife.”

“Hey Cap, did you know that Matty was married because I sure as hell didn’t?”

“No, shit, I mean,” He can’t find the right words to speak, too enraptured with the sight of the mystery woman (his future wife) gliding across the ice. “Tell the boys I’ll be right there? Thanks!”

He’s vaguely aware of Joe shouting something as he briskly walks away, but he only has eyes for you, the mysterious angel on ice.

Anna is currently running through the first twenty seconds of her program that you’ve taught so far, you standing at the boards right by the sound booth as if you were actually playing her music. She’s on the last part of the sequence, a spiral - a move where a skater raises one leg high in the air, upper body as parallel to the ice as possible - and her posture is stiff, but she seems to know that and corrects it herself before you have to.

Your back is to the glass, leaning against it casually. The door to the rink also happens to be right next to you, but you don’t notice until movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. You’re used to parents lurking, especially Anna’s, but when you allow yourself to look you quickly realize it’s definitely not a parent.

A man, tall and broad-shouldered, adorned in what looks like three or more coats, stares at you expectantly. There’s a half-smile on his face that immediately puts you on edge because no one should be that happy at eight o’clock in the morning.

Anna just so happens to finish and rushes to the bench for a water break, which is the only reason you allow your focus from her to divert to him. “Can I help you?” You frown, very aware you come across as standoffish.

He doesn’t seem deterred. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” His voice is warm and slightly sheepish, and his hands are shoved deep into his coat pockets like he’s still not entirely sure why he’s here.

“I’m in the middle of coaching right now,” You state slowly, as Anna begins to make her way back to you. You go to say something else, but she taps you on the shoulder before you get the chance to. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” She whispers, looking all too happy to leave you alone with him before she skates away without giving you a chance to respond, again.

Anna tends to do that a lot. Knowing her, she’s already planning your wedding.

Resisting the urge to get off the ice yourself, you turn back to the mystery man whose attention is still undeniably on you. “Do you need something, or…?”

“Not really, just… watching,” He says with a shrug. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the tips of his shoes barely scraping against the edge of the ice. “You’re good, by the way. Both of you. That—uh, what’s it called? The thing with the leg up? Looks impossible.”

You blink. “A spiral.”

“Right. Spiral. Cool.” He nods like he’s just learned some very important information, and you feel the corner of your mouth twitch against your better judgment.

“Do you… play here?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the rink. A silly question on your end because you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.

“Hockey,” He says quickly, almost like it’s an apology. “I’m Matthew. I play for the Leafs,” He points a thumb over his shoulder, where a few of who you assume to be his teammates are slowly trickling out of a locker room. Most look tired, some half-watching, half-laughing about something.

Of course he’s a hockey player. You almost forgot you were at an NHL team’s official practice arena.

“Right,” You say curtly, briefly looking for Anna who still has not returned. “Well, my student still hasn’t come back, but we’re almost done, anyways. You’ve got the ice in ten, I think.”

“I wasn’t rushing you or anything,” Matthew says quickly, taking a step closer. “Not that I really can. My coaches tell us when to get on and off. I was just… watching. Figure skating’s kind of cool. A lot like hockey, I mean, but I still don’t know anything about it.”

“I can tell,” You mutter under your breath.

He laughs, and it catches you off guard—low, easy, and a little self-deprecating. “Fair enough. I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to say hi, I guess. I haven’t seen you here before.”

It’s extending an olive branch on his part, leaving it up to you to introduce yourself or not. You debate skating away again, but he’s still smiling, eyes hopeful, and you don’t have it in your heart to do anything cruel.

“It’s my first lesson here,” You admit. “I’ll be coming here a lot more, now.” You finally give your name, offering your gloved hand for him to shake with your own sheepish smile. His hand dwarfs yours easily, and despite the fact he’s also wearing gloves you can still feel the heat from his skin seeping into yours.

Matthew looks as if he’s won the lottery. “I’ll see you, yeah?” You nod, unsure what to make of him as he makes his way back to his teammates. You gather your phone and coat from the bench, sparing one last glance his way again who is now standing with his teammates, but he’s not laughing along with them. He’s watching you.

You force yourself to ignore it, swiftly turning back around and stepping off the ice. But there’s something about the way his gaze lingers, like this wasn’t just a one-off conversation to him. Like maybe he’ll be back for more.

You don’t run into Matthew again for a week, and you definitely weren’t looking for a glimpse of him each time you had a lesson. You definitely didn’t take to Google in-between spare moments, searching him up on the Toronto Maple Leafs’ roster.

And you definitely, one-hundred percent did not come to the rink on a random Tuesday morning when you didn’t even have a lesson to skate on your own, just for the opportunity to run into him again.

Really, you don’t even know why. You’ve messed around with hockey players when you were younger, sure, because it was definitely convenient, but you never saw it as serious. You’re not sure why subconsciously, you think this one is different.

The cold air bites at your cheeks as you step onto the ice, smooth and untouched, a blank canvas. You take a deep breath, your warm exhale visible in the chill, and launch into your warm-up. While not nearly as intense as it used to be, you still like to keep up most of your skills—particularly, your spins.

Unlike a lot of skaters, you always hated jumps. You always loved spinning more, any and all types, and used those in your programs while jumps were always included at the bare minimum. You’ve just always hated chucking yourself into the air, never quite trusting your body to land on a singular toepick without fault. It’s one of the reasons you quit competitive skating after so many years.

The rink is nearly empty, though—just you and two others. You only plan on skating for an hour or two, even though freestyle sessions can last much longer.

You’re midway through alternating backwards power pulls - on one foot, skating left to right in half-swizzle shapes - when you notice him.

He’s sitting on top of the bench on the far side of the rink, wearing a backward cap and a hoodie that’s definitely not designed for the cold. His skates dangle off the edge of the bench as if he’s not quite committed to stepping onto the ice yet. His hair sticks out in every direction, the messy, effortless kind that probably takes zero effort but makes him look infuriatingly good.

It’s Matthew, you recognize without a doubt. Your heart jumps out of your chest, and you try to play it cool like he hasn’t probably already noticed he’s been spotted. You try to ignore him, moving onto your spins, but there’s a prickle of awareness every time you pass his side of the rink. He’s not just watching—he’s studying.

Randomly, you decide to mess with him. There’s a spin you love where you have to contort your body in an oddly flexible way, and you’ve noticed more than once how people will always stop in their tracks to watch. It forms the shape of a donut, hence the name ‘donut spin.’

You skate to the middle, the designated area for spins, decision quickly made. You have to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face at the thought of what look would be on his. Attracted, or impressed? Maybe both?

Taking a deep breath, you tighten your arms, engage your core, and take a strong step forward. Dipping slightly, you bend your knees just enough to gather momentum, shifting your weight to your left leg, having your right leg extend behind you in a straight line. Your arms sweep in, crossing over your chest, as you begin to rotate. Your vision blurs at the edges, moving too fast to make out even a shape. You feel the pull of centrifugal force, letting the spin tighten and quicken as with practiced motion, you reach down toward your left ankle, your fingers brushing the fabric of your leggings as your body folds. Your head dips low, and your extended leg arcs upward behind you, a perfect curve in the air. The donut shape then forms easily, your body compressed into a spinning circle. Your thighs burn but you welcome it, knowing it means you’ve locked in the position. Your blade scratches against the ice as you count your rotations, getting about five in before your body really starts to protest.

Quickly beginning to tire, you let the spin slow as you begin to rise. Uncurling like a ribbon unwinding, you let your right leg drop and open your arms, checking out of the spin. Your vision sharpens again, your surroundings coming back into view, and the first thing you do is shoot a quick glance towards where you last saw Matthew.

Just as you expected, his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. This time you let the smile come to your face, close-lipped but no less genuine, and watch as his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.

Knowing without a doubt that he’ll be the one coming over to you, you skate to a stop near the boards to grab your water bottle. You hear more so than see how he pushes himself up and strides over, his skates clinking against the ice.

“You’re insane,” Matthew says by way of greeting, his words almost breathless.

You grin, knowing exactly what he means. “Excuse me?”

“That spin you just did.” He gestures vaguely towards center ice. “You just completely folded in half. What is that?”

One of your brows lifts, feigning disinterest, though you think he knows you’re amused. “A donut spin. It’s my favorite,”

He leans against the boards, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A donut spin, huh? So, out of all the moves—jumps, spins, whatever—that’s your go-to?”

You nod, trying to hold back a grin. “Yup. I was never much of a jumper.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that before,” He says with a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I half-expected something dramatic, like a quad jump, or something.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Quad jumps are dramatic—and borderline impossible. I prefer spins that don’t require me to risk my life.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew replies, tilting his head as though he’s reevaluating you. “Obviously, I don’t jump, unless I’m checking somebody. Then I don’t mind coming off my feet a bit.”

You make a show out of looking him up and down, laughing internally as he seems to stand up straighter at your appraising gaze. “Makes sense. You look like you’d be violent out there.”

He takes a step closer, causing you to have to tilt your head back just slightly. He is, unfortunately, much taller than you. “Really?” He asks, voice low. “What gives it away?”

“Um,” You lose your words for a moment, tongue-tied at his sudden proximity. “Everything, honestly. I’ve seen you skate—like you’ve got a grudge against every guy who's not on your team.”

It’s Matthew’s turn to be caught off guard, though it quickly turns to cockiness that has you rolling your eyes. “You’ve seen me skate? How? When?”

“I may or may have not looked you up online.”

“Oh. So not in person?”

“Nope. I don’t watch hockey.”

“You should change that, actually watch one of our games,” He suggests, grinning. You’re starting to suspect he’s someone who always has a smile on his face. “I’ll score a goal for you.”

This time you don’t bother holding back your laugh. “That’s a whole lot of assurance for a sport that’s mostly luck.”

If possible, his grin widens at your doubt. “I’ll make you a deal,” He says, taking another step closer with a casual confidence that’s starting to feel dangerous. “Watch one of our games, and I’ll score a goal just for you. I’ll even call it a donut goal. Maybe the name will pick up.”

You shake your head, astounded by his personality that miraculously is starting to win you over. “A donut goal?”

“Yeah,” He replies, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Because of your spin. It’ll be my inspiration. What do you say?”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes, and you hate how much you’re already considering it. “That sounds ridiculous,” You giggle.

“Just one game! You watch, I score, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to watch hockey again.”

It’s annoyingly tempting, the way he pitches it. And maybe part of you is curious—curious enough to nod before you can talk yourself out of it. “I guess… Just don’t, like, hurt yourself doing something stupid.”

Matthew’s grin turns triumphant, like he’s just won a championship. ���Deal. I’ll let you know which game to tune into.” He goes to skate away, but then quickly turns back around before you even get the chance to turn away yourself.

“Uh… Can I get your number?” He blurts. “For the game.”

“Of course,” You smirk, completely aware of his intentions, surprisingly not as frightened as you thought. “For the game.”

You stay on the ice for another hour, though you don’t work on any more spins, and especially not jumps. Instead, you just skate in laps, occasionally switching to a random edge exercise, but mostly gliding. Matthew left the moment he got your number, sending you a stupid donut emoji as his very first message to you.

What you didn’t see is Matthew immediately calling Joe the moment he steps back into the men’s locker room. “Dude, I got her number,”

A scoff can be heard from the other end. “Your skater wife?”

“Yup. I even got her to agree to watch one of our games. I kinda have to put one in the back of the net though?

There’s the sound of something shattering, followed by a curse and then his friend shouting. “You—her—fuck—what?”

He laughs at his friend’s disbelief. “And you thought I couldn’t do it!”

“It was a spiral, actually.” Matthew replies, proud even he remembered the name. He wants to remember every word that comes out of your mouth, made it a goal to do so. He had to wait a week to see you again, constantly searching every corner of the rink whenever he had a moment of alone time, though it’s not like his teammates didn’t know what he was doing.

“Your first conversation with her was asking about a swirly-thingy.” Joe retorts. “Not exactly winning over girls with that one, y’know?”

Joe took the liberty of informing Auston and John, of course, who therefore told the others. He’s still not embarrassed, though.

Not about meeting you.

It does turn out that Matthew is not very good at texting, however. Understandable, because you aren’t either, but his schedule makes it practically impossible. Not that he doesn’t try, but it’s gotten to a point where you’re eagerly awaiting his next message that takes hours to come in, which is strange because it’s not like you’ve even gone on a date with him.

He gets sick of the distance, literally and figuratively, quickly. He first asks to call you at night, when you’re curled up in your bed and he having just gotten back to his apartment from an away game in Ottawa. You reluctantly say yes, not because you don’t want to but because you don’t exactly have a lot to talk to him about when it’s one o’clock in the morning.

Your ringtone is shrill, startling you despite knowing it was coming. You answer immediately, biting your lip when you can hear his breathing audible through the phone.

“Um, Matthew?” You start when he doesn’t say anything. “Are you there?”

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry,” He apologizes, and you can picture the hand running through his hair as he talks. “Would you believe me if I said I was surprised you even picked up?”

You laugh. “No. I don’t answer my phone this late at night for just anyone, you know.”

“Technically it’s early in the morning. Get it? Because it’s—nevermind I’m shutting up now. You picked up just for me?”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t for your jokes,”

“My mom thinks my jokes are hilarious,”

“I think she’s required to say that.”

You and Matthew call pretty often after that, once the ice is broken—pun not intended. Surprisingly, even though you both go to the same rink multiple times a week, neither of you run into each other that often, so calling at night when you’re both free is the solution to that problem. Maybe it’s because your schedules are so different, but you try to fix the new Matthew-shaped hole in your life by following your first ever hockey team on Twitter.

Or X. Or whatever.

You definitely don’t tell him that - his ego is already big enough - but the amount of pictures posted of him keeps you entertained, and very much endears you to the personality you don’t always see, especially around his teammates.

While Matthew isn’t the biggest talker on his team by any means, even he’s surprised by the endless amount of energy he seems to now have. The excitement gets him through the day, his favorite part now being able to go home at night and talk to you.

And finally, after weeks of scheming and talking and definitely falling in love on his end, he has a game in Toronto against a team he’s relatively sure he could probably net one. He texts you the details, and gives you a link to a pirated website you can watch the game on for free.

Hopefully the league doesn’t find out about that one.

He’s so excited, though, and you’re finding it impossible to not match his energy. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t secretly kicking your feet at the thought of him deliberately attempting to score a goal just for you, too. The days before are filled with teasing texts from Matthew, all centered around some mysterious plan involving this so-called ‘donut goal’. Every time you ask him to explain, he evades the question.

“So can you tell me exactly how you’re planning on doing this?” You ask the night before.

“Nope,” He replies smugly. “You’ll just have to watch and find out.”

You snort, leaning back on your couch. “What if you don’t even score?”

“Wow,” He says, feigning offense. “Zero faith in me. That’s harsh, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” You tease, brushing over the ‘babe’ he let slip out. “It’s hockey. You’ve got, like, five guys constantly trying to stop you. Plus the goalie. Odds aren’t exactly in your favor.”

“You’re gonna feel so dumb when I pull it off,” He replies, totally grinning just by the sound of his voice. “Mark my words.”

Despite your best efforts to play it cool, you’re more excited for this game than you’ve ever been for a hockey game in your life, considering you’ve never even watched one before. Your small circle of friends that grew up skating with you don’t even know about your late-night plan; you want to keep Matthew to yourself, almost, keep this new budding relationship small and private, and you think he feels the same.

Before you know it, you’re tuning into the game on a sketchy looking website that Matthew refused to give any extra details on. It works, though, even if it lags every so often, and even shows the commentators on the side as they watch the game, too.

It starts before you know it—tiny players zipping around after an even tinier puck, and trying to locate Matthew on each of his shifts proves to be even more challenging. Every time you manage to spot his number, though, he’s moving with a grace you weren’t expecting, all power and precision as he skates circles around the other team. That isn’t to say he’s indestructible, however, because Matthew takes a shit ton of hits. Every hit leaves you wincing for him, but he gives plenty back in retribution.

He’s captivating to watch, the way he commands attention without even trying. And when he gets the puck, everything seems to shift.

He’s fast—so fast you lose sight of him multiple times as he weaves through defenders. He gets a chance, shoots it, but it goes wide before being collected by the other team, whom you don’t even know the name of. The game goes on like this for the rest of the first and second period, until the third is underway and you still haven’t moved from your spot on the couch, burrowed in a fuzzy blanket, hot chocolate forgotten.

The game is nearly over when it finally happens. A breakaway from the neutral zone, according to the commentators you can barely hear over the blood rushing through your ears, and Matthew again has the puck and breaks away from the defenders, skating with terrifying speed.

The crowd roars as he approaches the goal, and your heart jumps in your chest when you realize this is it. Your eyes are glued to the screen as he circles behind the net in one smooth motion, pulling off a wraparound goal so effortlessly that you don’t even process what’s happened until the puck is in the back of the net.

The volume coming from your laptop fizzles in and out, the arena likely so loud the speakers can barely handle it. You can hear bits and pieces of said-commentators celebrating in shouts, but all you can focus on is Matthew.

Because he’s spinning his hand in a circle—mimicking the shape of a stupid fucking donut—before pointing upwards.

“Oh my god,” You hiss, dropping your face into your hands. “Did he actually just do that?”

You’re mortified, but also—how could you not smile? He skates back to his team on the bench, grinning like he just pulled off the biggest inside joke of his life.

Even though the commentators can’t hear you, their response almost makes you feel they can. “Knies wraps it around, a beaut, and seems to make some circle motion with his hand. A new celly for the forward?”

You’re alone in your apartment, no roommates to worry about hearing you squeal, and the grin on your face impossible to hide. Stunned, mildly embarrassed even if no one else knows that his celebration was for you, and the most surprising thing about it all?

You definitely, without a doubt like Matthew Knies.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re pulling up your text thread with him, your last messages with the player wishing him luck for the game and him saying thanks.

You’re insane, your new text starts with, echoing his words to you after what feels like ages ago. Congrats on the goal though! I’m impressed :) get home safe.

The game is over before you know it, your screen switching from zoomed-in interviews of the players to the commentators instead, going over the stats and noteworthy plays that quickly lose your interest. You keep it on as background noise, though, as you wash and put away your mug used for hot chocolate, wiping down what little mess was left on your counter.

You’re about to close your laptop for the night, too, when the words ‘Knies’ and ‘interview’ appear in the same sentence, immediately capturing your attention.

“It appears that Knies had himself ‘some inspiration’ for tonight’s goal… Check it out here,”

They show his face next, flushed red, drops of sweat trickling down his forehead. He’s in a skin-tight compression shirt that highlights his arms unfairly well, and the grin on his face is unmistakable.

A reporter is seen shoving a microphone into his face, asking about his goal celebration. He leans into it even more, if possible, staring straight into the camera. “I had some inspiration for my celly, yeah,”

“Inspiration from what?” The reporter presses.

“Donuts, actually,” He answers nonchalantly.

“Was that what the circular motion you made was for?”

Matthew chuckles sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He’s about to respond when someone who you assume works for the team taps on his shoulder, cutting the interview short.

“Donuts,” One of the commentators repeats incredulously once the camera is back on them. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“Maybe wraparound goals should be called ‘donut goals’, whaddya think?”

You tune out their chatter, picking up your phone to open Twitter. The only accounts you follow are all Leafs’ related, so you don’t know why it comes as a shock to you when you see multiple posts joking about renaming wraparound goals to donut goals, all because Matthew made a little quip about it.

Unbeknownst to all of them that you were his inspiration to begin with—all to prove a point.

Hockey players, you scoff to yourself. Biggest egos you’ll ever find.

It’s not for another two hours later until he finally texts you back. Not that you were mad, or anything, totally understanding that game nights are always busy, but the message from him catches you off guard.

hi, it starts with. im done with all the press and stuff, team meeting’s done too. can i come see you???

Your eyes are heavy, barely able to form a coherent thought, but you don’t hesitate before responding.

Yeah, I’d like that

Another hour goes by, though, and you’re starting to think he forgot or got bribed into going somewhere to celebrate, and you’re about to call it a night and crawl into bed when there’s a sudden knock at your door, startling you.

You’re positive it’s who you think it is as you rush to your door, but you check your peephole anyway. Standing there, shoulders hunched and beanie drawn so far down over his head that it’s practically covering his eyes, is Matthew.

The door almost hits the wall with how fast you open it. You stare at him, now wide-awake, as he smiles at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“You’re here,” Are the first words you blurt. “You came,”

Matthew’s smile turns soft, taking a small step towards you. “Hi, donut,” He greets. “Sorry I’m late, some fans found me on the way out of the arena…”

Your lips tilt upwards into a smile, amused at his new choice in nickname. “That’s okay,” You say. “You can come in, by the way. Don’t want you freezing.”

He lets out a laugh at that, his breath condensating in the chill. You step to the side and he wastes no time following you in, closing the door politely behind him. Walking back to your couch, you fold up the fuzzy blanket still sprawled across and take a seat, hands bundled in the sleeves of your hoodie. He follows you, but doesn’t take a seat and instead stands awkwardly in front of you, his hands fidgeting slightly as if he’s working up to something.

“Matthew?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “What’s up?”

He bites his lip, looking anywhere but at you until a decision seems to be made, determination settling over his face. He takes a deep breath, crouching down in front of you and placing one of his hands on your knee. Your heart races, breath hitching when his other hand slowly approaches your face, brushing away an errant piece of hair stuck to the side of your cheek.

“I like you. Like, a lot,” Matthew finally blurts. “I know we’ve only known each other for like a month, but when you know, you know. You know? That sounded better in my head, actually. Anyways, I think you’re really cool, and funny, and crazy talented, and not to mention beautiful, and—”

“Matthew—”

“—I think I can make you really happy, if you want, because I really wanna get to know you more—”

“Hey, hey, Matthew, Matty, shut up for just a second, yeah?” You have to grab his face at this point, hands palms cupping his cheeks as you teasingly shake his head. It does the trick, though, and Matthew shuts up with a choked swallow, eyes wide and nervous.

“I didn’t take you for a rambler when I first met you,” You start, one of your thumbs gently brushing his cheek. “You’ve always seemed so confident,”

His face is flushed a brilliant shade of red, and he tries to duck his head despite still being in your hold. However, he’s not complaining. He’d happily let you touch him anywhere you want.

“Only you can bring it out of me, baby,” Matthew’s attempt at flirting is commendable, especially since his voice is all soft, gentle, and vulnerable in the moment. “I think about you all the time. I look forward to calling you every night. And even when I knew you were watching my game, all I could think about is that I wished you were there in person to see it.”

He chuckles then, his free hand coming up to grasp one of yours still holding his face, entangling your fingers together and squeezing before bringing it down to rest in between you. Your foreheads are practically touching, your hand not being held in his moving to cup the back of his neck.

“I’m doing a whole lot of talking here, donut,” He says. “What are you thinking?”

You take a deep breath, shuffling ever so slightly closer. “I’m thinking that I really like you too,” You admit. “You’ve managed to worm your way into my life in only a month and yet I can’t imagine my life without you in it now,”

Matthew is full-on grinning now; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy. “You’re not messing with me? You’re serious?”

“I’ve known for a while now, I think. Just—didn’t know how to say it.” You answer rather bashfully, now your turn for your face to flush red.

For a moment, the two of you are silent. He squeezes your hand every so often, thumb rubbing in gentle circles over the back of yours, and his eyes don’t leave you, not for a single second. You’re so close you can see the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, his slightly chapped lips, his tongue as it comes out to lick them. Your heart races and you can’t come up with any words to cut the tension, but like always, Matthew seems to know just the right thing to say.

“I don’t think I can wait anymore,” He suddenly says, eyes pleading. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod rapidly, sighing out a quick, “Yes,” feeling like you’ll explode if you don’t get the chance to taste him. Expecting something desperate or fast, you’re surprised when he brings his free hand up towards your face, sliding around the back of your neck and tilting your head to the side. He angles you just how he likes, you happy to go along, as he leans in slowly, slowly, slowly…

The first brush of his lips sends a full-body shiver down your spine, a small whimper leaving your lips that Matthew eagerly swallows with a happy sigh of his own. He presses further, his lips pillow-soft and gentle, no desire at all to rush the moment between you.

It’s not fast or frantic. It’s slow, deliberate, and full of everything that’s been building between you two for weeks. You don’t want it to end at all, not after finally having him, but the need to breathe eventually wins over. Matthew follows your lead and rests his forehead against yours, his soft breaths mingling with yours.

It’s intimate, the way your eyes open to look at him, finding the same look mirrored in his own.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” He murmurs, not at all ashamed to admit it. You bury your head in his shoulder, hiding the bashfulness on your face as flustered giggles escape from your lips.

Matthew’s arms immediately come to encircle you, holding you so close to his chest you can almost feel his heartbeat. He moves you to sit on the couch, you happily sitting on his lap. “Aw, don’t hide, donut,” He teases, the grin on his face so obvious by the way he’s speaking.

And because, of course, you’re you, without lifting your head up you quickly pinch his arm, laughing at the squeal you get out of him. “They’re calling wraparound goals donut goals, now, did you see?”

Matthew replies with obvious pride. “Duh. Of course I did. It’s a fantastic rename, in my humble opinion,”

“No wonder your ego is so high if your fans are naming goals after you,”

“You love it though, especially after I just gave you the best kiss of your life—”

“Don’t push it, Matthew.”

A/N: I've never written for Matthew before so I hope his personality isn't too unrealistic, I feel like it gives cheesy hallmark rom-com in the best way possible 🫣 please don't forget to reblog & comment :)

────────────────────────────────

Taglist: @grittysbattinggloves @stars-canucks @besthockeyfics @ilyasorokinn @drei-mrssvechii @tanninetanya @insomniren @sidcrosbyspuck @yagetintoit @2manytabsopen @huggy-hischier4394 @estapa94 @dexthtoyounglings @ellswilliams @cixrosie @poufsouffle21 @fratboyharrysgf0201 @jovye @bunting58 @alexxavicry

Add yourself to my 18- (SFW) Taglist here!

Add yourself to my 18+ (NSFW) Taglist here!

[sweetdispatch]

https://www.instagram.com/share/reel/BAeyAMzFRU

A willy fic on this, like he just loves showing you off and making sure everyone knows you're his and he can't keep his hands off you

Madly in love - W. Nylander

masterlist pairing: William Nylander x fem!reader summary: William loves you and wants everybody to know about it warning: none note: thank you for request! hope you like it because i don't think i'm a good writer in whole fluffy and happy things haha

Since William saw you for the first time, he fell in love. He never believed in love at the first sight until he spotted you. One conversation turned into a date and shortly after you two had been dating. You were more of a shy person, you didn’t like the spotlight and attention but with him it was impossible. 

Willy loved taking you out. He felt like he was wasting time when you two are not out. Everyday he was coming to your apartment with a white rose to take you for a walk. He was taking you to the dog park where both of you were enjoying time together hand to hand with his dogs running around. 

The dogs loved you as much as Willy loved you. He never had stronger feelings for anyone like you. You’ve been together for a couple months but he already could picture your future life. On your six month anniversary, he asked you to move into his apartment. You happily agreed and for him it was a first step in making a whole future with you. 

His hand felt natural on your body. Willy always kept his hands on you like you could disappear the moment he took them away. When you were sitting on the couch, he was pulling you closer to his body. In the car, his hand was always laying on your thigh or your hand was holding his. It was clear that his love language was physical touch. 

When Willy had a team event, of course you went with him. He walked into the building hand to hand with you. If he was talking with someone, his hand was placed on your hip. From time to time he was stealing kisses from you. Everyone could see that you are his. It wasn’t a possessive act but making sure, you know that he loves you. 

Even when you two were going grocery shopping, Willy was placing kisses on your cheek or forehead. He wasn’t afraid to show everyone that he’s in love. He was proudly showing people how lucky he is with you. When you had problems reaching something from the shelf, he was always behind you with his hand on your back, helping you. 

One of his favorite things that Willy loved to do with you was going out in the rain on a balcony just to have a dance with you. He knew it’s cheesy but for him, there wasn’t anything more romantic than this. You were always laughing at this but deep down, you enjoyed this. It was your personal moment when you two were in your own bubble. 

What Willy also loved was showing you on his instagram. He was always taking pictures of you doing anything and he felt so much love that he needed to share it with the whole world. His instagram quickly became a continuation of yours. You could barely see any hockey content because everything was about you. 

His family was happy that Willy finally found someone for him. You were a perfect fit for him and they loved you. Next to you, he was acting like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes were always shining and he was looking at you like you were an art of work. He was truly in love with you and there was no doubt in that. 

When Willy was introducing you to someone, he always pointed out that you’re his girlfriend. He wanted people to know that you’re important. No matter how many times you heard that, you were always blushing hearing these words. You couldn't believe how lucky you are to have him by your side. 

Willy wanted the best for you. You were the love of his life and he wanted to be sure that you know how big a part of his life you are. He was treating you like a princess. He always had hands on you and he was always telling you compliments. Day without saying I love you was a wasted day for him. He was madly in love with you.

[thesecretestblogever]

In Which Joe Learns How to Make a Girl Come

premise: you’re married to anthony stolarz and you both decide to help a guy out and teach him the ways of the female body

pairing: reader x anthony stolarz x joseph woll

w.c. : 8k

warnings: 18+ MDNI; oral (f and m receiving), threesome, unprotected sex (breeding! kink), size!kink, inexperienced!Joe, established relationship (marriage to Stolarz)

You’d been happily married to Anthony Stolarz for five years now. You dated for 4 years before that - meeting in Philly and falling in love quickly. You followed him from Edmonton, to Anaheim, to Florida, and now Toronto. It was exhausting to pick up and move so often, but you’d do anything for him and you knew he would do the same. Your relationship was rock solid, and there were a lot of reasons behind that.

He was one of the sweetest, kindest, and softest men you ever met, despite his size. He towered over you in a way that was almost comical. He was an incredible communicator and although he was often away from home or extremely busy with hockey, he always made sure you were taken care of, in more ways than one.

It wasn’t that you had an open relationship, but you were both experimental. Over the years you’d tried almost everything there was (within reason). If you found something you liked, it was added to the rotation, and if you didn’t, it was left behind, and there were many things you both liked. Through mutual agreement, neither of you ever slept with anyone without the other. Threesomes were a way you could both discover new kinks or interests while your significant other could still feel included and get off. Road Trips were hard if you weren’t traveling with him, but ultimately you only ever wanted each other and the idea of filling the gap with someone who didn’t know what either of you liked simply fell flat. You’d already tried that and neither of you were satisfied. 

The other rule was no teammates allowed. Anthony wasn’t possessive or jealous, but he treasured you and knew how some hockey players could be. He didn’t want anyone to treat it as a cheap thrill or feel entitled to your body. There was also just potential for it to damage the team’s dynamic or create weird feelings and he took his job very seriously, so those worlds stayed separate.

Well… until recently. There had been teammates you found handsome or alluring in the past, but never dwelled on those feelings. It wasn't worth it since nothing was ever going to come of it. Anthony knew how you felt anyway - you never chose to hide your attraction to any players. In the end, his feelings were never hurt. He knew you’d always return to him. He’d smugly smile at himself knowing that no one could make you come undone like he could. He knew all your ins and outs, a blessing that came from years of learning each other's bodies and what made you feel good. Similarly, he never had any emotional interest in the partners you brought into your room. What got him off was seeing you experience pleasure, even if it wasn’t his body giving it to you. He liked when someone was fucking you and your hazy eyes found his as he stroked himself. 

Sure, there were a lot of other handsome players across the league, but none of them ever really fit the bill of what you were looking for. They were usually arrogant and bullheaded, which to be fair, was something that helped their game, but it didn’t appeal to you. That’s why, when after moving to Toronto, your eyes fell upon a certain goalie. Maybe you had a type after all.

Joseph Woll was the tall, slim and sweet player that you felt could potentially fill that roll. It took awhile for you to express your attraction to Anthony, because you were embarrassed. Up until this point, the firm boundary of no teammates had never been a problem, but you couldn’t deny that you really wanted Joe. Your husband had just chuckled upon your confession, your cheeks red and warm as you finally told him how you felt.

“That one would be a tough sell. I really don’t think Woller would be up for that,” he let you down gently. You couldn’t hide your disappointment, but moved on when he broke the news. The attraction was still there, and Anthony only ever laughed and rolled his eyes when you laughed too hard at Joe’s jokes or let your touch linger on his bicep for a few seconds too long. 

Things changed one night when the guys went out for a drink after a hard fought win on home ice. The goalies had grown close over the season. Though he was new to the team, Anthony had more experience over multiple teams and years so he fell into a sort of mentorship role to Woll. They could relate on many things and they were grateful to have each other.

They sat at the bar and talk naturally turned towards their game and the tactics they liked to use. Now and then, other teammates would join their conversation, but at the moment, it was just them two. Eventually, Anthony decided to probe and steer their conversation towards a completely uncharted topic. He wanted to get a feel for the other man and see exactly where Woll drew the line in the sand. 

“And your dating life?” He finished the whiskey in his glass and gestured at the bartender to bring them two more. Joe just scoffed and swirled the alcohol around his glass and watched as the ice cubes clinked against each other.

“What, are you trying to embarrass me or something?” He started warily. He wasn’t sure where Stolie was going with this. The man was already married, and he wondered if he was trying to set him up with one of their friends.

“No, man, I’m just asking. You’re a good guy. No luck out there?” Some players chose to focus on hockey completely. They viewed a relationship as a distraction- though that didn’t prevent them from often taking a girl home on the weekend for some stress relief. He was wondering where Joe stood on all of this. 

“Not much luck. I feel like I don’t have enough time to start a relationship during the season, and I’ve only had a few hookups. And those… weren’t the best time for either of us, if I’m going to be brutally honest,” he said sheepishly. A light flush covered his cheeks and crept up his neck like he was embarrassed. 

“No? You’re a handsome guy,” Anthony shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yea, well, handsome only gets you so far when you have no idea what you’re doing. I cannot believe I’m telling you this right now,” he rubbed a hand across his face and wished he shut up minutes earlier. He would blame it on the alcohol in the morning.

This was the in that Anthony was looking for. He leaned in closer to Joe and lowered his voice so that no one else would overhear their conversation.

“Look, y/n and I have a unique situation when it comes to our sex life,” Anthony started.

“Y/n, as in your wife, Y/n?” Joe’s walls rose immediately as the skepticism filtered in. “Where is this going?”

“She’s into you and wanted to know if you’d join us for a night,” his eyes darted around the bar, and he was relieved that no one else seemed to be paying attention.

“But - you… you guys are married!” Joe’s mouth gaped open and closed like a freshly caught fish. It was endearing and Anthony could see what made you so interested. 

“Listen, you can say no and we can forget this conversation ever happened. Usually, teammates are completely off limits, but she’s interested and you seem to be having some… trouble. We could help you gain some confidence. I don’t have to touch you at all. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he finished. Now the ball was in Joe’s court. Anthony was actually surprised to see the other man consider the offer. Maybe it was the fresh win or the whiskey impairing his decision making, but he actually thought of saying yes.

“I-” his mouth felt dry.

“Don’t feel like you need to answer now. Think it over. You have my number,” he finished the last of his whiskey and paid for their drinks. He got up from his seat and clapped Joe on the shoulder before leaving. 

It only took a few days for his phone to buzz and he shook his head, a smile growing across his face.

I’m in…

It took a few weeks to arrange things. It turned out to be the night after a bad loss. You would never tell Anthony, but those were always the best nights for you. The celebratory sex was good after a win, but there was something about the way your husband let go and took it out on you in the most delicious way after a loss. There was always a lot of weight on a goalies’ shoulders and they often took the brunt of criticism after a game. Now you would get to experience that times two. Joe had been in the net that night, and you were excited to take advantage of it.

You were ecstatic when you found out Joe had actually agreed. You’d been buzzing out of your skin since your husband showed you the text message. Planning took a little more effort and as every day passed, you were worried that he would back out, but here you were, finally sitting in your dimly lit bedroom with two beautiful men in front of you. Before anything began, it was important to discuss boundaries.

“We don’t do any hard BDSM, no piss or anything, and we check in with each other throughout the whole thing. And we use protection,” Anthony finished. You both sat on the edge of the bed, with you leaning into his side and stroking absentmindedly at his thick thighs that sat exposed from the shorts he wore. Joe sat across from both of you in a plush armchair. His eyes darted between you both and he swallowed thickly. 

“Do you think… Maybe this time we can forgo the condoms?” You asked looking up at your husband through your eyelashes. “We’re all clean and I’ve been on birth control for years now.” It wasn’t a ridiculous request, but rather a rare one. Before you ever got serious with each other, you’d had a conversation and agreed that neither of you were interested in kids. Because of this, you were never really interested in Anthony coming in you. Sure, it happened now and then, but with him it was always more about painting your body with his release. But Joe was pretty and inexperienced, and you had a feeling it would tip him over the edge. 

“Okay, no condoms then. As long as Joe is okay with that,” his warm hand drew circles on your lower back. Joe just nodded slowly, his eyes darting between the both of you. 

“What do you like, Joey?” You asked, playing with the nickname. Joe, though there completely of his own accord and agreement, looked tense and nervous. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to make you feel good…” You trailed off and rested a hand on his knee, squeezing the warm flesh there. He jumped slightly from your touch like he couldn’t believe where he was.

“I… don’t know. I’ve never really explored that kind of stuff,” he tried to think of anything to offer, but his mind was completely blank and thoughts were hard to come by. 

“We’ll try some stuff… and we’ll keep checking in, okay?” You winked and your hand crept upwards. Joe may have been scared out of his wits, but that didn’t stop the obvious tent from showing in his sweatpants. It made your mouth water and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. He nodded slowly, his mouth hanging open. Anthony pulled you closer into his side and nuzzled into your neck, breathing the scent of you in and placing open mouth kisses along the hot skin. You tilted your head to allow him better access and reveled in the scratch of his beard across your skin. 

“Joey can watch for a little bit - get used to things,” he mumbled into your skin. You hummed and your hand came to rest on Anthony's jaw and pull his mouth up to yours. It was like the sweetest release when his lips finally met yours. You never tired of his kisses and you melted into him, your legs coming up to drape over his lap. It started slow and sweet, his lips moving over yours almost lazily like you weren’t in any rush. It allowed you to peek your eyes open and look over to see Joe watching in complete awe. His eyes were wide and his pupils blown large at what was taking place in front of him. 

Anthony pushed you until you were laid back across the mattress and shifted so he was now between your legs. His body almost completely covered yours. The kisses grew deeper, his tongue swirling in your mouth. You could feel his arousal against your thigh and you wanted to grind up against him, but didn’t want things to get out of hand too quickly. 

You pulled back slowly from him and placed a few more light kisses on his lips and cheeks. You felt breathless already. 

“Can I kiss Joe?” You asked. You knew his answer would obviously be yes, but it was a part of your shared routine to continuously ask for consent along the way, especially if someone else was involved. 

“Of course, baby,” he pulled himself off of you. As he kneeled back in the bed, he stripped off his shirt which made you second guess pulling back from him. After all this time, you never tired of his body. Instead, you chose to trail one hand down his torso as you got up from the bed.

You sat on Joe’s lap, running your fingers through his hair to push it out of his face. He stared at you with his blue eyes that made your mind flicker back to your husband on the bed behind you. 

“Is this okay?”

Joe just swallowed hard again, his eyes flickering down to your lips as he nodded.

“Words, baby,” your thumb ghosted over his bottom lip.

“It’s okay.”

Leaning in to connect your lips to his, the kiss started light, but there was a quiet desperation to the way Joe moved against you. He was unsure of himself and didn’t know what to do. His hands hovered over your waist, not sure where to land. 

“You can touch me,” you said against his mouth as you broke between kisses to catch air. You took his wrists in your hands and planted them firmly on your waist. It provided stability and allowed you to take full advantage of being on his lap. This gave him a confidence boost and the kiss deepened. His hands held onto you, squeezing the soft skin on your hips and wandering down. You took the cue to shift on top of him so that your thighs rested on either side of his lap. He groped your ass as you pressed down on him, feeling the hardness there against your core. It elicited the first sound from him - just a small hum in the back of his throat but it was all you needed to continue your ministrations on top of him, swirling your hips in a figure eight and running your hands up his chest to tangle in his hair. 

Another set of hands divided your attention as they ran over Joe’s and around to your front to knead at the supple mounds of your breasts over your bra. Anthony’s lips attached to your neck as he kneeled behind you. Even on his knees, he was equal height with you and his warm, bare chest pressed against your back. It was already overwhelming to have both of their hands on you and you craved to move forward. Your husband sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and bit softly at the skin before laving his tongue over the red spot. This earned him a soft whine that was swallowed by Joe. You felt hot and itchy, like you needed more. 

You pulled back from Joe, admiring his red swollen lips and his hair that was now thoroughly disheveled - he looked downright gorgeous. You brushed your thumb along his jaw and pressed one final kiss to his skin before standing and turning your attention back to Anthony. You were past the need for subtle build up, your mind racing over all the things you wanted to do. Running your nails down his chest, you placed a singular kiss on his pec before sinking down on your knees in front of him. 

“We’re gonna test your ability to speak up. Don’t be afraid to ask if you see something you like,” you said over your shoulder to the man sitting in the chair. You wasted little time in pulling your husband’s shorts down, and he kicked them into the corner of the room. His boxers would follow shortly, but you wanted to take your time for the moment and give Joe time to adjust. You put your hands on Anthony’s hips, shuffling your bodies so that Joe could still get a good view of everything that was happening, but you could also look back at him. Your hand found the bulge in the briefs in front of you, palming over him. Your mouth kissed up his thighs and over the cock that was straining against the cotton. His hand came up to wind through your hair to take control of your movements. 

“You like that, huh? Teasing?” He breathed out, pressing your face into him. The mixture of hot skin and musky scent of him made your head dizzy. He never pushed too far, never called you names, but knew exactly how much turned you on. You moaned against him, the vibration traveling through the fabric. “That’s enough now.”

You didn’t need any more incentive, peeling away the fabric so that you could free him and give him exactly what he wanted. Anthony was a big man and that translated to many places. His hands were large, his digits always filling you to the brim when he fingered you. The same went for the thick cock that stood in front of you, leaking pre-cum from the tip. When you first started dating, it was intimidating to say the least. He always made sure to prepare you adequately and the stretch was incredible. 

Instead of looking up at him as you began to run your tongue over his hot skin, you looked past him to Joe. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you moved the muscle over his tip. You pulled back for a moment to spit into your palm before taking him further back past your lips. You hand fisted around the part of him that you couldn’t fit. You could gag over him and still not be able to take him all the way in. The obscene wet sucking sound filled the room accompanied by Anthony’s small hums as you worked over him. Blowjobs were nice, but he cared more about seeing you below him, happily working on him like you couldn’t get enough. It was one of your favorite parts of foreplay and often meant you got rewarded. 

A soft moan broke your eye contact and you looked again past your husband to see Joe sitting back in the chair, palming himself over his pants and looking at you with eyes half-lidded. It spurred you on to work harder on the man in front of you. You wanted Joe to gain the confidence and ask for what he wanted, so you decided to show him exactly what he was missing. You pushed yourself to take as much of Anthony in as you could, your tongue working against the underside of him and hollowing your cheeks. He knew exactly what you were doing, shaking his head and laughing quietly. A particular twist of your hand made him hiss out and bite his lip, his hand tightening in your hair.  

“I-” a voice broke you from your concentration. You stilled on Anthony, your mouth still enveloped around him and suckling lightly. He loved resting in your mouth - it turned him on to have complete control over you. You breathed carefully through your nose to not trigger your gag reflex as Joe spoke up from behind the both of you. 

“Can you- will you,” he struggled to find the right words. “I want your mouth on me,” his eyes flickered to Anthony as if he was asking for too much. The man only chuckled, tapping you to release him and he brushed your hair out of your face. He laid back on the bed to watch you pleasure the other man. You crawled over to Joe and ran your hands up his muscular thighs. Your hands drifted upwards and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt to signal that you wanted it off. He obliged eagerly, throwing it somewhere else in the room. 

Joseph was tall and slim - nowhere near as large as Anthony, but still beautiful. He was toned and his abs flexed as he sat back again. His chest was smooth and hairless, only a hint of hair on his stomach leading to the hem of his bottoms. He lifted his hips off the chair so you could drag down the fabric and dispose of it. You licked a stripe up his thigh and appreciated him fully naked on the chair. His arousal stood tall and achingly red against his stomach.

He wasn’t as big as Anthony, though not many were. It made your job easier and you couldn’t wait to make him come undone beneath you. You took him in your hand, fisting him slowly and watching the velvety skin stretch and retract as your hand moved up and down. His reaction was exactly what you’d hoped for. He groaned deeply, his head falling back and his eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Since his size was more manageable, you got to do something that you weren’t able to do often. You worked quickly on him, moving to take his pulsing cock into your mouth. Wasting no time, you bobbed up and down on him before sinking as far as you could, your nose hitting the skin of his pelvis and his pubic hair tickling you. 

“Fuck!” his hands flew to your hair before he could stop himself, entwining in the locks lightly. He didn’t hold you there but the shock of you taking him in caused him to tense and cry out. You swallowed around his length, gagging on him and pulling back to continue your movements. He didn’t seem the type to swear often, so you took it as a sign that you were doing something right.

Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked him, not wasting a second. You wanted to bring him to the edge and watch him squirm. From the way his mouth hung open and his abs flexed, you could tell he was barreling straight towards it. Your hands fondled his balls, rolling them in your fingers and squeezing lightly. It was then that you pulled off of him with a satisfying pop, giving him a few more lazy strokes before letting go. His chest heaved as he breathed deeply, looking down at you on your knees with wonder and disappointment that you stopped.

“The night is young. Plenty left to still explore, Joey,” you pressed one last kiss to his thigh before standing up. 

At this point, you were the only one still fully clothed. Both men were completely stripped, so you took the initiative to start pulling off pieces of your clothing, making a show of wiggling your ass at your husband as you pulled the leggings down slowly. He got up from the bed to assist you, running his hands over your bare skin every chance he got. Your shirt came over your head and was added to the growing pile of clothes. 

“You wanna help, hot stuff?” You held your hand out to Joe, knowing that all that was left was your matching bra and underwear, carefully chosen for this night. You wanted him to be the one to do it. He was still hesitant and almost scared to touch you, and you wanted that to change. Behind you, lips pressed into your skin once again and you could feel the hot arousal of Anthony’s cock against your lower back, contrasting the cool metal of his wedding band as his hands explored your body. 

Joe took your hand, pulling himself from the chair and standing in front of you. You still had to look up at him and he looked at you so softly it made your heart melt. He didn’t know how to handle you, so his default was to treat you like porcelain even if you’d taken much more before. 

You knew by now you had already soaked your panties through. Thick arousal was pooling between your thighs and you ached for someone to touch you. It was all becoming too much, the room hot with your combined sweat. 

Joe took the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and following them so he was the one kneeling now. You felt like a queen the way he looked up at you with intense admiration. It was his turn to place a soft kiss right above your knee once you stepped free of the fabric. The clasp of your bra came undone with the nimble hands of the man standing behind you.

“I want to eat you out,” Joe blurted like he wasn’t sure exactly how to broach the topic. “I want to taste you,” he was slowly gaining confidence, learning to use his words and express his needs. You hand found his chin, pulling him up from the ground. Your bodies pressed together, your front against his as your lips met again, this time with less reserve. You were sandwiched between them, your brain buzzing with the stimulus of their hands and lips all over you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, breaking you away from Joe as you were thrown over a shoulder. Laughter escaped you as Anthony carried you to the bed and Joe watched with a smile on his face. It felt nice to lighten things up now and then and not get too caught up in the intensity of the situation. You were here to make each other feel good. A smack to your ass made you yelp and you returned the favor on Anthony as you had a great view. The next moment you were thrown onto the plush mattress of your king sized bed. 

“Think you can make her come with just your mouth?” Anthony smirked after he pulled away. You looked between the men standing over you - one confident and the other looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Oh my god, you’ve never gone down on a girl before, have you?” You propped yourself up on your elbows. Deep red spread across his cheeks as he looked around at anything but you. You felt bad for embarrassing him, but there was only one way for him to learn. You crawled forward pulling Joe to the bed and holding his face in your so he couldn’t shy away. “Anthony can help you,” you rubbed your hands up and down his toned biceps and leaned in to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing his skin. “I want your mouth on me, Joey,” you nipped at his ear lobe before pulling away. “I’ll tell you what feels good.”

“Okay,” he nodded, mesmerized by you. You laid back on the bed and let Anthony take control once again. He looped his arms around your thighs and dragged you to the edge. He was over the foreplay and dove right in. You could tell he was beginning to lose his patience and you knew you were in for it. There was probably very little teaching about to happen. 

He licked a stripe up your soaking folds, moaning into you like a man starved. His ability to pinpoint every part of you that set your skin on fire would never get old. He alternated between fucking his tongue into you and licking at your sopping cunt. His arms held you down when your hips bucked upwards to follow the stimulus. The air was filled with your moans and gasps when he focused on your clit, his lips wrapping around it and sucking. He didn’t mess around, and your hands held onto his hair like it was a lifeline keeping you grounded.

You managed to open your eyes to see Joseph watching intently, no doubt taking mental notes about what to do when it was his turn. His hand wrapped around his angry cock, giving it half-hearted pumps and squeezes.  

“So fucking good,” Anthony nearly growled into you. The warmth was growing and tightening in your lower abdomen. If he didn’t stop soon, you would be sent hurling over the edge.

You tapped Anthony’s shoulder desperately. One of his favorite things was eating you out, but you still wanted Joe to have a chance. He groaned like he didn’t want to stop, but relented and pulled off. He didn’t need you to pull him up your body - it was muscle memory this time. He hovered over you, engulfing you lips with his as you tasted yourself on him. His beard was soaked with your slick and it wet your chin. 

Anthony moved behind you, effortlessly moving you so that you were laying between his legs, your back to his chest. Joseph kneeled at the edge of the bed, finally getting a good view of you. From this position, Anthony could hold you down and also coach the other man through it. You knew you weren’t going to last long and the thought of them both eating you out was enough to have your mind whirling. 

“Start slow. Flatten your tongue and lick her from bottom to top,” Anthony began. You arched into his fingers as they ran over your bare breasts. He squeezed the mounds and pinched at your nipples. When you squirmed in his grasp, he placed one large palm on your stomach, pushing you back down onto him. You watched as the man between your legs worked through his fears. Whether or not he knew how hot it was, his eyes held yours as he put his mouth on you.

His tongue was hot and wet against you, his spit mixing with the arousal that was coating your inner thighs now. With the build up from the man before him, you knew you weren’t going to last long. You were worried how many orgasms Anthony had planned for you, but knew you would end the night feeling like jelly. 

“Fuck your tongue into her once she’s warmed up. And alternate between sucking and flicking your tongue on her clit. Try some things, but also watch to see what makes her react. That’s the biggest thing,” Anthony continued playing with your chest, now placing kisses wherever he could reach. Joe listened eagerly and did exactly what he was told. When he focused his tongue over your most sensitive spot your body jerked to try and chase the sensation. You weren’t holding back anymore, the pleas and moans spilling from your mouth almost non-stop.

“You can spit on her. She loves that,” Anthony encouraged. He held you firm as you were beginning to feel the pleasure and promise of release build. Seeing Joe go from scared to a man possessed was doing more than he knew. He pulled back, his chin glistening in the dim room and looked you in the eyes as he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drip from his mouth over you. He licked back up you to collect the saliva and continued his attack, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

“Fuck, please,” you moaned, your eyes squeezing shut.

“That feel good, baby?” Anthony murmured into your ear.

“Yes, please don’t stop, Joey. I’m so fucking close,” you whined. Your husband’s grip lightened so you could grind your hips down onto Joe’s mouth. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. He wants to see your face when you come,” his hands traveled lightly over your skin and the extra stimulation drove you crazy. When you pried your eyes open, you saw the intense blue of his eyes, unwavering on yours.

Your first orgasm hit you in low waves. A single swear word flew from your lips as your hips stuttered against his mouth. Your moans were high pitched and breathless as the warmth and pleasure filled your limbs. Your hands held a bruising grip on your huaband’s forearms.

“Work her through it. Don’t stop until she’s twitching,” Anthony encouraged. Joe was a good student. He didn’t stop until you were gasping and trying to pull your hips away from him. It was too good; it felt like electricity moved through your body. He finally relented, removing himself from you, but there was a shine in his eyes that said something had moved within him. 

The room fell into silence as they allowed you to recover. Your body felt numb as the aftershocks coursed through you. Sweat covered your brow and you melted into the body holding you. A soft kiss to your temple brought you back yourself and you let out a soft sigh.

“You did so good, baby,” more kisses followed. “But I’m not done with you yet,” his voice fell lower. “There’s a lot for us to show Woller, no?” His lips traveled down and kissed along your neck. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Joe spoke up, which earned a weak laugh from you. He still kneeled on the floor and you ran your fingers through his soft hair. 

“You did a great job, Joey. You’re a fast learner,” You sat up with support from the man behind you and felt your blood pressure equalize. 

“I have an idea,” the voice from behind you said. That was always a dangerous set of words coming from Anthony. It meant you were barely going to make it through the night. Of course, you could always tap out or use your safe word, but the arousal that had been temporarily satiated now began to grow again. “Lay back on the bed, baby,” Anthony helped you move from him to lay back against the pillows rested against the headboard. 

“You gotta warm her up before you fuck her, Joe. Use your fingers,” Just like he became a mentor on ice, he was now helping his teammate in a different way. His words were commanding and it sparked something within you. Joe was so eager to please and listened, that the idea of tying him up and having your way with him flashed through your mind. Maybe you could do this again sometime and see if it was something he would like. 

For now you came back to the present moment, watching the two men stand at the edge of the bed. Joe stepped forward, stroking your thighs and ghosting around the area you wanted him to touch this most. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Please,” you sighed, opening your legs for him and inviting him in. He climbed on the bed to hover over you and kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers swept through your cunt, collecting the juices on his fingers before sliding a finger inside of you. His touch was unsure, like he didn’t know how to move his fingers, so he settled for pumping them in and out of you slowly. He added a second finger that slid in easily with how wet you were.

It wasn’t bad, just nothing special. It was clear he was working on auto-pilot and wasn’t paying much attention to what worked for you because he didn’t know. He needed a little extra help. 

“Anthony,” you beckoned your husband over to give him some guidance. You could tell Joe what to do, but you wanted the other man’s hands on you and it was sexy when he took control. He joined you both on the bed and watched as Joe worked over you. 

“Can I help you, Joe?” he asked, this time softer. He didn’t want the other man to feel inadequate, but wanted rather to guide him. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” He looked between the both of you. You didn’t want his confidence to waver.

“Just need some tips,” Anthony mussed Joe’s hair and it was a moment of sweet vulnerability between the men that reminded you that they were close friends. Anthony turned his attention to you, taking his two forefingers and dipping them into your mouth to wet them. You felt Joe’s fingers still inside of you as he watched the erotic scene unfolding. You suckled on the digits, weaving your tongue between them and staring up at your lover. He removed his fingers from your mouth, a string of spit connecting the two of you for a moment before it split. 

His fingers caressed underneath Joe’s before slowly pushing in alongside them. The stretch was almost too much and your hands found Anthony’s forearm, holding him still as you adjusted. The sight of both of them hovering over you, filling you to the brim, was pornographic. Instead of having to take turns, they now worked together on you. You nodded at them to begin moving as your walls stretched to accommodate them together. 

“You don’t just want to move in and out. Curl your fingers. Like this,” You felt Anthony’s larger digits guide Joe’s. With each thrust of their fingers, they curled together to brush the soft spot inside of your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth dropping open in ecstasy.

“Fuck that’s it, baby,” Joe breathed out. The instant change left him aching to replace his fingers with his cock. It was becoming painful and he hoped you’d let him bury his length inside you before the night ended. The pet name didn’t bother Anthony - it happened in emotional times like this, and he knew how much pet names worked for you. 

Your hips began to move in tandem with them, angling yourself whenever their fingers curled to match the rhythm and grind down on them. This was a completely new experience and your second orgasm was creeping closer. 

“You can do this, too, but it might be too much right now. She’s all filled up,” Anthony’s fingers scissored inside of you and you cried out at the stretch as Joe followed suit. 

“Shit, shit, shit. Sooooo good,” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. You whined as one set of fingers left your cunt, leaving you feeling emptier than you would have liked.  A low buzz caught your attention, and you opened your eyes to see Anthony pulling one of your favorite vibrators from the bedside table. 

“Don’t want to leave any part of you neglected,” Anthony climbed back onto the bed and kissed you deeply before pulling back. His fingers joined Joe’s once again, followed by the deep vibration pressed directly to your clit. The moan that ripped from your mouth filled the room. 

The men resumed their movement, their fingers hitting the spot deep inside of you combined with the vibration of the toy pressed directly to your bundle of nerves. Your vision went white as your second orgasm hit like a truck. You left your body as the pleasure consumed every part of you, much stronger than the first. Only once you were whimpering and weakly batting at the arm that held the vibrator against you did they pull away. 

Your chest heaved as you laid boneless on the bed, waiting to return to yourself. Anthony laid next to you and pressed soft kisses along your face. You pawed at Joe’s hand, weakly trying to pull him to you as well. He obliged eagerly, his arms resting over your waist. 

“You got one more in you, baby?” Your husband murmured into your ear.

As tired as you felt, you knew that you were the only one that came so far, and the want to satisfy them outweighed the heaviness settling into your bones. 

You nodded into the warmth of your husband’s chest, placing weak kisses there. 

“Good girl. Bend over the bed. Joe can lay here and watch before it’s his turn,” he gave you one last kiss before getting up. You scooted to place your feet on the carpeted floor and bent over the duvet, resting yourself there so you could watch as Joe once again took himself in his hands and twisted his hands around his cock. 

Anthony settled behind you, a singular smack echoing around the room followed by his hand smoothing over the stinging skin. His strong hand held onto your hips as he guided his length through your folds, collecting the excessive wetness there before slowly pushing into you. 

He always filled you so perfectly, stretching you so that you molded around him. A deep groan fell from him as he finally seated himself fully within you. There was nothing better than sinking into your heat and feeling you tight around him. 

“So fucking good. So tight around me. This pussy was made for me, huh?” He punctuated each sentence with a long thrust, pulling himself out and then slamming back into you. His hips hit your ass with each move, pushing you further onto the bed. Even if you brought other people in often, it was clear who you belonged to at the end of the day. 

“Fuck, just for you,” your hands fisted into the sheets as he set a brutal pace. He pulled you back onto him every time his hips moved forward and the sound of slapping skin filled the room. Even after both of them fingering you and stretching you out, he was always almost too big for you. It turned you on that he had to work you open and split you with his length. You would never grow tired of the feeling of him pounding into you.

“You gonna let Joey fuck you after this?”

“Please,” you gasped as he angled his hips and abused the soft spot within you. He could tell he was hitting all the right spots and slowed his thrusts to drag against your walls. He knew if you came again, it would be your last and he wanted Joe to have his turn. With much reluctance, he pulled away from you, leaving you cold and empty. 

“Go on then, sweetheart. He’s waiting,” he smoothed his hand over the handprint on your ass once more before pulling away completely. You scrambled to climb on the bed and fill yourself again, missing the feeling of being filled. You muscles ached and you knew you’d be sore in the morning, but it was all worth it. 

You climbed on top of Joe, grinding yourself down on him and sliding his dick through your pussy. He was already moaning, and you knew after all this waiting that he was not going to last. You took him in your hand, swiping once more through your heat before sinking down on him. 

He wasn’t as long or thick as Anthony, but he still filled you nicely, hitting different spots than the other man. You bottomed out on him, quickly moving to grinding down on him. The sounds spilling from his lips were beautiful as he watched where your bodies connected, pulling himself out of you before you sunk back down. 

His hands dug into your hips and you wondered if bruises would bloom there in the morning.

“Touch her, Joe,” Anthony prompted. He fisted himself watching the love of his life get off on his teammate. Joe’s hand dropped to your clit, rubbing quick circles around the puffy, swollen skin. 

“Oh, shit. Don’t stop,” you moaned. You wanted to give it right back to him. “Fuck, that pussy feel good, J? You’ve been so good. You deserve this, don’t you, baby?”

His thrusts were growing faster and sloppier, and it was a race to see who would come first. His mouth hung open as he concentrated on chasing his high and making sure you followed after.

“You wanna fill me up?” You said putting the last bit of your energy into meeting each of his thrusts and bearing down on him. His head fell back to the pillows as he whimpered. 

“Please let me come in you,” his teeth were grit as he tried to hold on long enough for you to give him the go ahead, but he was quickly unraveling. 

“I want you to, Joey. Wanna come with you and have you fill me. Please,” you squeezed down on him as he swiped his thumb over your clit. His head was cloudy and he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Your hips stuttered as your last orgasm of the night washed over you, your walls spasming around him and pushing him over the edge. His hips hit once, twice more before he buried himself in your and filled you with his hot come. Your moans chorused with one another as you let the pure pleasure consume you. 

There was only one person left in the room who hadn’t come yet, and you knew exactly what he wanted. Removing yourself softly from Joe and feeling the mixture of your releases drip down your legs, you climbed off the bed to kneel once more in front of your husband. The hand around his length quickened as you waited, your mouth open and tongue sticking out to catch his come. His blue eyes held yours as he pumped himself, his hand twisting and squeezing. Seeing you so ready and willing below him burned in his lower stomach and his face scrunched as he felt the release building.

He came with a deep groan, your own hand reaching to cover his and milk his cock, feeling the warm semen hit your cheeks and tasting the bitter substance on your tongue. You leaned forward to take him in your mouth gently, cleaning off the rest of the white liquid that dripped from him. 

He left you for only a moment, returning with a warm, wet washcloth to wipe down your face. You smiled up at him as he took care of you. The heavy atmosphere has dissipated and his soft, warm self had returned. He scooped you up easily from the floor and transferred you back to the plush bed, making sure to wipe gently between your legs to clean you off. 

You laid between the two men - the room quiet and smelling of sex. You were all tired and satiated. You could talk about the details later, discuss feelings and whether or not something like this would happen again. For now, you were content with laying between them, their body heat radiating and keeping you warm. Anthony’s arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close as you drew shapes absentmindedly into Joe’s bicep.

“Feel free to stay the night, Joe,” you murmured as the exhaustion finally hit you and you began to drift off. “I make a mean pot of coffee…”

[matthewkniesgf]

Easter Extravaganza/ William Nylander

Note: This hasn't been proof read

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: dad!William Nylander x fem!reader

Summary: It is Easter morning at the Nylander house and you have never found your husband more attractive then when you see him with your kids

You and William have been married for 3 years and holidays were never really that big of a deal. The two of you would do something small together and then you would either go to your in-laws or you would go to your family's house. That was until you had kids. Your nights become busier and your holidays become more of a big deal.  

William was with your son Grayson while you were with your daughter Elizabeth (Ellie). You were making your way upstairs to Grayson's room. When you got there you saw William laying next to your son trying to get him to go to sleep.

“Daddy, how long until the Easter Bunny comes to our house” your one year old asks his father 

“He will be here when you wake up buddy but in order for him to come to our house you are going to have to go to sleep.” William tried to explain to your son 

“But I don’t want to go to sleep” he had the sass of a 2 year old that's for sure 

“Then I guess the Easter bunny won't be coming tonight” you said to your son 

Both william and graysons head whipped in your direction not knowing that you had been standing there for so long 

“Fine” your son was not happy about what you had said but he knew that you were right 

You walked over to where your son was laying in bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead 

“Goodnight Grayson, I will see you in the morning. I love you” you say to your son crouching down beside the bed because you still had Ellie in your hands 

“Goodnight mommy, I love you” he leans over towards his sister and kisses her on the forehead “Goodnight ellie, I love you” 

Your heart felt so pure. Your son was such a sweetheart. He loved his little sister so much. You make your way outside of his bedroom hearing the sound of your husband's voice 

“Goodnight buddy, see you in the morning” He said kissing Graysons forehead before he got out of his bed 

“Goodnight dad, I love you” he said blowing his dad a kiss 

“I love you too” blowing a kiss back to his son 

He turned the light out in the room and then walked out to see his wife standing there with ellie in her arms 

“Time to put you to bed” he tickled his daughter to make her laugh. He loved the sound of her laugh, it sounded like y/n’s 

She reached out towards her dad making it known that she wanted her to hold her. you made sure that ellie was safely in his arms before you let go

You and William put Ellie down together and say goodnight. Once you leave the bedroom you make your way downstairs. Once you get to the livingroom your husband makes his way towards the couch and falls on his back in exhaustion. 

“I am so ready for bed” he tells you letting out a sigh 

“I am too but guess what?” you say while you make your way towards the space beside him on the couch and sit down 

“What” he said looking at you 

“The Easter Bunny is coming tonight” you smiled at him while you told him this

“Uhhhhh…. I forgot about that” he groaned in annoyance 

You get up and grab his hand to pull him off of the couch

“Come on the quicker we get this done the sooner we can go to bed” 

The rest of the night you and William walked around strategically placing plastic eggs filled with candy and toys all around the house. Some easy ones and hard ones for Grayson. Ellie was still too young to participate in the egg haunt. You leave out a little blue basket for Grayson to collect all of his eggs into and a note from the Easter bunny saying how many eggs are hidden around the bottom of the house. There are 30

Then you make your way to your room to go to sleep for the night 

You wake up to the sound of little footsteps running to your room. You hear the door squeak openand the next thing you know Grayson is on your bed sitting beside you.

“Mommy wake up, the bunny came last night” grayson said in a whisper yell 

“really?” you were way too tired to being this engaged in the morning 

“Yeah” he was so excited. You were surprised that he was running all around the house with how much energy he had this morning 

Grayson crawls over to where his dad is laying and shakes him awake before saying “Dad get up! The easter bunny came last night” 

Your husband groans from being woken up. He looks around and sees his son sitting next to him.

“Good morning buddy. Why don’t you go and see if your sister is awake, just be quiet” he says while he puts his son on the ground

You look over at the alarm clock and see that it is only 7:00 you sit up and take a minute to wake up before you look over at your husband 

“Good morning my love” you say to him with a smile on his face 

“Good morning älskling (darling)” he says leaning over to kiss you and you do the same 

You both get out of bed and go and get the kids. When you finally reach the bottom of the staircase grayson takes off in a flash. He runs over towards where the basket is sitting. 

Will sits on the couch with Ellie as he tells Grayson that he has to wait for you to come back before he can start the hunt. You go into the kitchen and make yourself and your husband a cup of coffee. 

When you get back you see your son patiently waiting for you to return. As soon as you sit with Ellie and Will. then you let Grayson know that he can now go and look for his eggs. 

After a while of watching your son look around the first floor of the house he runs over to you “Dad i need help I can’t find the last 3 eggs” 

“Ok bud let's look around and see if we can find them” he hands your daughter to you so he can go and help his look around 

Once Grayson had found all of his eggs you went into the kitchen to make breakfast while you Will was in the living room entertaining the kids. Once you finished making breakfast you walked into the living room to tell your family it was ready. When you walked in there you saw your husband sitting on the ground with his daughter laying beside him chewing on a chew toy for teething with Pablo right beside her. He was also playing car’s with your son surrounded by all the open eggs and chocolate all over the place. 

Will was a great dad and a loving husband and you had never found your husband more attractive in your life but you had also never loved him more than when you saw him like this with your kids.

[lilhughesy]

Toronto Girl | Auston Matthews x Fem!Reader

warnings! mentions of alcohol consumption, otherwise just straight fluff!

word count: 3.4k

summary: You and Auston have been together since the start of his NHL career in Toronto. The two of you have established multiple date traditions in the city as seasons pass from winter to summer. These are only a few of the annual dates that the two of you go on!

a/n: this one is dedicated to my beloved @isaadore! I hope you all enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing this super fluffy piece for you:)

There is nothing better than being in your 20s and living in a busy city like Toronto. It had everything you could ever want within a few blocks radius whether it be a coffee shop, a thrift store, an Artizia, or a bar to spend your evenings at. You loved the city, especially after growing up in the Toronto suburbs, living in the heart of downtown was a dream. Plus, it helped that your boyfriend who so happened to be the captain of the infamous Toronto Maple Leafs was always at your side. 

Auston Matthews was the number one draft pick to the Leafs back in 2016, and you knew from that moment while watching the NHL draft from your living room TV as a teenager – you wanted that man. How could you not? From his athleticism, his style, and obviously his looks, it was so easy for you to admire the man. And somehow, as if it was written in the stars for you, you stumbled across Auston at some party during your sophomore year at university. You were making eyes at him, he was shamelessly checking you out, you walked over to him to introduce yourself, he bought you a drink, numbers were exchanged, and the rest is history. 

So living in the bustling city with your hockey hotshot boyfriend was a dream come true, plus you loved being able to tease him when his Arizona-raised side comes out during the harsh Canadian winters. He was truly your other half and you thank the universe every day for giving you such a loving man. Auston knew you just like how he knew himself, granted that the two of you have been together for nearly ten years now. With the years full of love and memories, the two of you established several traditions and designated date spots (hidden) within the city.

1 – Ice Skates

Auston knew from the beginning that you were born and raised in Canada, he could immediately tell by your outward kindness to strangers, to how you profusely apologized whenever you bumped into him as you walked side-by-side – even though you barely caused him to move. You loved correcting him on the terms of toques and chicken burgers, strongly believing that the Canadian iteration was the right one. 

However, each winter you never failed to impress him with how terrible you were on skates. He had assumed spending every Canadian winter in Ontario would have led you to learning how to skate as a child. You proved him wrong by basically impersonating Bambi on a frozen lake whenever your skates contacted the ice rink. The way you reached out for his arms for support or how your eyes sparkled whenever you were able to stay upright by yourself and how you immediately seeked for his attention – he found it so endearing.

The two of you would always plan for at least two afternoons in the winter to skate at Nathan Phillips Square, to enjoy the public skating rink in the smack middle of downtown Toronto. You especially loved it when the sparkling Christmas lights were hanging above the rink, giving the ice a heartwarming glow.

“You ready, babe?” Auston asked you as he glanced up from his kneeling position, where he finished tying the laces to your skates. 

You nodded, “I think so,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he took in your rosy cheeks and nose from the cold, despite you wearing one of his toques and had the black knit mittens that he had bought you over your hands. Auston slowly sat down next to you, placing a loving kiss to your temple, before turning his attention to tie up his own skates.

“Hold onto me if you get scared,” He teased while offering you a hand, you rolled your eyes playfully before accepting his assistance. His hand pulled you up to your feet before he guided you to the edge of the rink. 

Auston stepped backwards, easily gliding backwards on the ice. Of course he did, skating was second nature to him. He gave you a quick wink as you let out a shaky breath as you braced yourself. You cautiously stepped onto the ice, your legs wobbling under you as both of your skateblades contacted the rink. 

You let out a small yelp as you stumbled, immediately reaching out for your boyfriend. 

“I got you, baby,” Auston chuckled as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, allowing you to stand more comfortably since you leaned on him for stability. 

Your mitten covered hands wrapped around his wrists as he readjusted to have his hands on your waist, “You ready?” 

You nodded in agreement before Auston started to slowly skate backwards, his hands pulling you slowly along with him. Your nervous energy quickly turned into amusement as you started to glide and relax into your skates, rather than staying rigid as a board.

Auston’s eyes softened as he watched how your smile grew on your features while you watched your feet slowly start moving across the ice, “You’re doing great babe, look at you!”

You giggled, turning your gaze from your skates to your boyfriend, “I’m almost doing it!”

He shook his head, “No, you are doing it!”

His hands slowly withdrew from your waist, finding comfort in holding one of your hands instead – still being able to catch you if you were to stumble, but also giving you the freedom to skate by yourself. Auston pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, “Proud of you, babe.”

“Only because my smoking hot boyfriend is also a hockey player,” You teased as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, “I love you, Auston.”

“I love you too” He mumbled against the material of your hat to hide the blush that crept onto his face, still feeling the effects of your compliments as butterflies in his gut even after being together for nearly a decade.

2 – Trinity Bellwoods Cherries

Every spring, without fail, the cherry blossoms bloom – and so do you.

You loved the cherry blossoms that bloomed in Toronto at the very beginning of spring – it was the indication that the winter cold was finally gone for the year, and the warmth was crawling back into the city. It starts the same way each year with Auston waking you up far too early for someone who’s been on the road half the week, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering, “It’s time.” 

You groaned as you buried your face in the pillow, and he chuckled softly, tugging the blanket from your grasp with practiced ease.

You both know you wouldn’t miss this for anything.

It is always Auston who remembered first. Even when the end of the season has him worn thin with legs heavy from back-to-backs, mind cluttered with playoff stats and game film, he never forgets this.

By 8:15, you're both walking west on Queen Street, coffees in hand, scarves pulled up against the stubborn April chill. The wind bites your cheeks, and the sidewalk still has patches of slush in the shadows, but there's a hum beneath it all — a warmth waking up the city from under layers of gray.

Auston’s fingers find yours without looking. Not because he needs to hold your hand. Because he wants to.

By the time you make it to Trinity Bellwoods Park, the morning light is just beginning to stretch over the city skyline. The air still clings to the chill of winter, but the promise of warmth hangs between you along with the scent of coffee in Auston's travel mug and the sweet, delicate fragrance of the sakura trees just beginning to blush.

“Still the best view in the city,” He said while not looking at the trees.

You rolled your eyes as you nudged his arm, “You say that every year.”

He grinned that slow and sleepy smile that only appears when he’s truly relaxed, “Because it’s true. And because I like seeing you pretend not to get flustered.”

“You remember the first time we came here?” You asked, breaking the soft silence between you.

He hummed, “Yeah. You wore that giant knit sweater that looked like it could swallow you whole.”

You grinned as you rolled your eyes playfully, “It was comfortable, while you wore a denim jacket and forgot gloves.”

He lifted your joined hands slightly in the air as a small smirk tugged at his lips, “Learned my lesson.”

The gates to Trinity Bellwoods are already open. You step inside the park and immediately feel the shift — the city’s buzz dulled, and the air carried something softer. Something in between green and floral, laced with the faintest trace of damp earth.

And then there they were.

The cherry blossoms stretch overhead in a pale pink canopy, each branch heavy with blooms that sway with every subtle gust. It’s like the trees are breathing. You slowed your pace instinctively, eyes drawn upward, and Auston does the same. You both know the drill by now, no talking for the first few minutes. Just look, just listen, just take it all in.

The gravel crunched under your shoes. As another couple walked by with a sleepy golden retriever trotting between them, tail wagging slowly and steadily. While a young girl spun in circles ahead of her parents, trying to catch petals in her hands.

Auston watched her for a second, then nudged you gently, “You ever think about how different this place looks in the winter?”

You nodded, “Bare, cold, and kind of lonely.”

“Exactly,” He kicked at a clump of last year’s leaves hiding in the grass, “And then this happens, every spring just like clockwork.”

“It’s comforting,” You mumbled, still admiring the pink petals all around.

He glanced at you sideways, brows softening, “Yeah. It is.”

You reached the spot — the same bench you two sit on every year. It is just beneath the tallest tree, the one with the twisting trunk that leans slightly left, like it’s always bracing for the wind. You take your seat while Auston remains standing, sipping from his cup, eyes scanning the horizon like he’s trying to memorize it all.

And you watch him.

There’s always a moment in this walk where you remember just how gentle he is. Not the hockey player. Not the public figure. Just Auston, and how he is quiet, thoughtful, easily moved by beauty when no one’s watching.

He finally sat down beside you as his shoulder bumped lightly with yours, “Thanks for still doing this with me.”

You turned to look at him, “Why would I ever stop?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish, “I don’t know, life gets crowded sometimes.”

You tilted your head, watching as a few petals fell from the branches above, landing softly on his hoodie. One clinged to the dark curl of his hair, and you reach to brush it away, your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“I like that we always come back to this,” You told him, “Even when everything else feels rushed and even when you’re tired or I’m stressed, we make time for each other.”

He looked at you like you’ve said something important, like this ritual of yours has roots deeper than either of you realized.

“It’s one of the only things I do that feels still,” He said to you quietly.

That landed heavy in your chest.

He reached for your hand again, thumb brushing across your knuckles. You sit like that for a while — no rush, no plan, just the two of you anchored under a sky of petals. Eventually, a breeze picked up, sending a swirl of pink fluttering down around you like soft spring snow.

Auston leaned back on the bench and tipped his head toward the tree canopy, “You think it ever gets bored? Doing this every year?”

You scoffed in amusement, “No way, it knows what it’s doing. It’s the main event.”

He grinned, the kind that creased the corners of his eyes, the one you’ve fallen in love with a hundred different times. You rested your head on his shoulder, and for a long stretch of time, you just sat in silence, letting the wind talk for you.

Eventually, he broke the quiet with a soft whisper, “Same time next year?”

You smiled against his jacket, eyes fluttering closed.

“Always.”

3 – City Nights

It started the way most of your best nights do, without a plan. You were half-asleep on the couch, the television humming some old sitcom in the background, legs draped over Auston’s lap as he scrolled idly on his phone. The windows were cracked open, letting in the first hints of summer with the warm and comforting breeze that felt like home.

“You wanna go out?” He asked suddenly with his voice casual but eyes bright.

You raised a brow, “Out-out?”

He shrugged, already nudging your legs off his lap so he could stand, “Yeah, let’s just go out. Let’s walk, y’know get a drink, and wander.”

Which, in Auston’s mind, really meant “let’s wander the city until we forget what time it is and end up splitting street fries at midnight with you sitting in my lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

You didn’t mind. However it’s already late, your hair’s a mess, and your feet are tucked into the kind of fuzzy socks that should never leave the house, but something about the way he said it makes you sit up, already smiling.

And fifteen minutes later, you were out the door.

The streets are still alive with weekend energy — even at this late hour. A low thrum of music pulsed from bars and clubs you pass, mingling with the chatter of people spilling out onto patios, and leaning into each other with laughter in their eyes. 

It’s one of those warm summer nights in Toronto, you know the kind that makes the whole city feel alive. The sidewalks were busy but not rushed, the breeze carried the scent of patio drinks and distant lake air, and you’re walking beside Auston down King Street with your hand tucked comfortably in his.

He wore that fitted black shirt with a hoodie tied across his chest that makes him look effortlessly put together, paired with a backwards hat that makes your heart flutter in the best way. He kept bumping your shoulder like he couldn’t walk in a straight line next to you without making contact, and you’re laughing more than you probably should for someone who hadn’t even had a drink yet.

“You good?” He asked as he bumped your shoulder as you walked.

You nodded with a smile, “This is nice, I didn’t realize how much I missed this.”

“Us in the city?”

You glanced up at the string lights crisscrossing above the street, flickering like fireflies, “Yeah and just being out in this city with you.”

You find a tucked-away bar just off a side street, the windows are foggy from the warmth inside, and soft music drifts out each time the door swings open. The glow of amber lights spills onto the sidewalk, wrapping you both in its quiet invitation.

Inside, it smelled like citrus and cedarwood and good decisions made just a little too late. The bartender nodded when Auston raised a hand, and you slid into a booth near the back, still holding onto his fingers.

He ordered your drink without asking, just like how he’s done this hundreds of times before. You pretended to pout when the glass arrived, just for effect.

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted,” You teased as he slid your drink closer to you.

“You always say you’re in the mood for something refreshing but not too sweet, and then you end up stealing mine anyway.”

You narrowed your eyes as you took a sip, and like always, it’s perfect.

“Okay, fine. You win.”

Auston leaned back against the booth, stretching one arm across the backrest behind you. He watched you with that soft look he gets when he thinks you’re not paying attention, like the one where his face relaxes completely, like everything outside this moment has fallen away.

You pretended not to notice, choosing instead to tease him about the overcomplicated name of his drink, making up a name with something with smoked maple and a hint of chili pepper, and he fired back by making up increasingly ridiculous names for yours.

“Yours is definitely called the ‘Sour-Key Spritz,’” He told you as you took another sip from your glass, “Or maybe the ‘Panic! At the Lemon Drop.’”

You nearly snorted your drink, “You are not allowed to name cocktails.”

The conversation flows like it always does with it being easy, open, punctuated by the kind of looks that lingered a second too long to be casual. You talked about the game he just played, a weird podcast you’ve been into lately, and the couple next to you whose first date is going so poorly, you’ve both started building backstories for them.

“She’s a yoga instructor,” You whispered into his ear, “And he told her he’s into crypto, and that’s where it all went downhill.”

Auston grinned as a small chuckle escaped past his lips, “They’re definitely not making it to dessert.”

An hour and two drinks later, you're both leaning into each other more, warmth buzzing just under your skin. Auston reached over your shoulder and played with the edge of your sleeve, tugging it gently, indicating it was in fact time for you two to leave the bar.

When you finally stepped back outside, the air had cooled just enough to make you tuck yourself into his side.

“Want to keep walking?” He asked you as he brushed his nose against your temple.

You nodded.

The streets have thinned now. You passed a guy painting a mural by moonlight, cigarette dangling from his lips, headphones on, lost in his own world. You passed a group of college kids eating shawarma on the curb, laughing so loudly it echoed between the large buildings.

Eventually, you wind your way toward Kensington. Where the storefronts are shuttered, but a street performer is still set up under a flickering lamp, coaxing a slow, sultry melody from a battered saxophone.

Auston stopped abruptly, causing you to glance up at him.

“What?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently took your hands, stepping closer until your chests almost touched.

You blinked at him, “Are you trying to dance with me, Matthews?”

“Trying?” He smirked, “I’m succeeding.”

And then he starts to sway, just a little. You glanced around, almost self-conscious, but no one’s really paying attention to either of you. The music wrapped around you like silk, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that you're dancing on uneven concrete with a guy in a hoodie with a backwards cap.

What mattered was the way he looked at you, with the same look he gave you when you two first started dating. His eyes full of admiration, love, and softness. Your arms wind around his neck while his settled at your waist. You let yourself move along with him, slow and easy, like the city is your ballroom.

It’s ridiculous, but it’s perfect.

After a few minutes, the song faded, and the saxophone player gave Auston a small salute before packing up and so you two kept walking.

You end the night with fries and gravy from a street vendor — the guy running it gave Auston a once-over, recognized him, and then gave you an extra handful of fries “on the house.” You ate them on a bench at the lake front, sharing bites and licking salt from your fingers.

The wind picked up again, and Auston shrugged off his hoodie without a word, draping it over your shoulders. His t-shirt showcased his tattoos just visible under the streetlight, and you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling warm in a way that has nothing to do with borrowed fabric.

“You happy?” He whispered into your hair as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You nodded as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Always, when it’s with you.”

[lightsoutmatthews]

Ignored - Auston Matthews

summary: Auston leaving you alone at an event leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

pairing: Auston Matthews x female!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: angst, fighting, swearing

------------------------

Your heels clacked quietly on the pavement of the silent streets of Toronto. There weren’t many people around at this time of the night, especially in winter.

You left the event a few minutes ago and made your way back to your home, after Auston ignored you almost the entire time since you got there.

You showed up together, at this point the Toronto scene was used to you being at his arm during events, and he sat next to you through dinner. His hand softly rubbing over your thigh as he listened to whatever sponsors the team had put on his table. They had introduced themselves to you, but their names had left your memory second after they finished speaking.

After dinner he got called away to speak more sponsors. You stayed at the table with the promise of him being back in a few but he never returned. You saw him work around the room, chatting with different people. Sponsors, team executives, teammates, but his eyes never went back to you.

It was like you left his mind the second he got up from the table.

At first it was no big deal, you knew he had obligations as the teams captain and superstar, entertaining sponsors at events like this being what he was obligated to do but usually he was checking in on you, at least occasionally. He included you in conversations, kept you close and checked if you needed everything.

Not today though.

Willam stopped by at one point, made sure you were fine, Mitch raised an eyebrow at you when he walked past but nothing from the man you were supposedly here with.

So, after two hours of sitting alone you had enough and left.

Not that Auston noticed.

---------------------

According to your phone it wasn’t that far from the venue to yours and Auston´s home and a 40-minute walk to clear your head sounded exactly like what you needed right now.

Your feet hurt from wearing heels all day, but you still decided to walk. Thankfully the streets were still lit, and you were walking alongside a main road with cars passing every now and then, backroads you definitely wouldn’t have take at this time of the night.

About 15 minutes into your walk an all too familiar blue car stopped next to you. You didn’t stop walking, even when the passenger window lowered, and you saw your boyfriend shoot you a death glare from the driver’s seat.

Of course, he didn’t stop driving, keeping pace with you, the streetlights reflecting in the windshield, the cars lights lighting you the way more than the streetlights ever could.

“Get in the car,” he bit but you still kept on walking. “What are you thinking walking around the city alone at night?” He continued.

You still ignored him.

Seconds later he parked the car and got out, jogging up to you, grabbing you by the waist to finally make you stop. "What´s gotten into you? Why the fuck did you just leave without saying anything?” He hissed. “Let me go,” you bit back.

“Are you insane? Get in the car right now.” You rolled your eyes at the anger in his voice. “I´m not debating with you and I´m not letting you walk back home alone, get in the car for fucks sakes.” His eyes glinted in the light of the streetlights. Anger written all over his face.

You wished you had the energy to argue with him but after the evening you have just had you were tired and just wanted to crawl into bed. “Babe, I can see that your feet are hurting, so just let me take you home and we can debate whatever your problem is at home.”

His words pissed you off. Like he was accusing you of being the problem. At the same time he still cared, he noticed the little detail about your shoes being uncomfortable, it made you feel better, just slightly.

His grip on your wrist was still firm but when you didn’t acknowledge him his face turned into a concerned frown. You knew he was almost at his tipping point when his brows furrowed, and his forehead wrinkled in the way you knew from previous fights.

His jaw clenched before he spoke again. “I don’t know what the fuck your issue is but get in the fucking car because if you don’t, I will drag you inside.” You knew he was serious. He wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his shoulder and carry to the car himself, no matter how it would look to any bystanders.

So, to prevent a scandal around the Leafs superstar you obliged, stomping towards his car. Heels clacking extra loudly which had him let out a long breath.

------------

The rest of the drive back to your home passed in silence. Your head leaned against the window, streetlights blurring together as you starred out at the passing buildings. Him clenching his hands around the steering wheel so hard you could see his knuckles whitening in the corner of you eye.

Back at the house, the car parked in the garage, you got out without acknowledging him. Taking off your shoes in the hallway, letting out a small moan when your bare feet touched the cold floor. A strong but welcomed contrast to the pain your shoes were giving you.

You put your coat and clutch back in the hallway closet before making your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. After, you took a right to go upstairs, locking yourself in the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You heard Auston move behind you but still paid him no mind. The fight that would undoubtedly follow soon something playing on yours through every step you took and every action you did.

30 minutes later you had gotten rid of your make up, went through your skincare routine and put on your pajamas, one of Auston´s old Leafs shirts that was so large on you it could count as a dress.

When you returned to the living room he was nowhere to be found. Felix was lounging on his dog bed in the corner of the room half-heartedly raising his head as you entered but not making a move to get up and properly greet you.

The lights from your bedroom upstairs lit the upper half of the staircase, telling you that your boyfriend was in there, probably taking his suit off and getting ready for bed himself.

Sitting on the couch, not ready to face him, you wrapped your arms around your knees and placed your head on them. The emotions of the evening crashing down on you, the scenes playing in your head on loop.

What was he thinking? Why did he leave you alone like that?

Deciding that you were too tired to have the argument tonight you grabbed the fuzzy blanket and wrapped it around your body. Laying down on the few pillows you looked out the big windows, snow slowly started to fall outside, casting the outside in a peaceful atmosphere. Much different to the tension you felt inside.

With the remote next to you, you turned on the electrical fireplace, setting a timer for it to shut off in 30 minutes just in case you fell asleep. It cast the room in an orange glow, throwing oddly shaped shadows on the walls.

You closed your eyes, trying to let calmness and sleep overtake you, listening to the quiet crackle of the fire but soft steps on the stairs had you open your eyes again. You didn’t move, but you knew he was standing right there, on the other side of the couch.

For a while no one said anything. Both of your heavy breathing filling the air around you, the tension so high it could be cut with a knife. “Come to bed,” was the sentence he broke the ice with. You stayed silent. “Or at least tell me what your problem is.” You huffed.

“It was really nice talking to you at the event today, and so nice of you to spend some time with your girlfriend between chatting up sponsors.” You didn’t know why you decided to be petty. You were tired and just wanted to sleep.

“What are you talking about?” he stepped further into the room. You sat back up, shooting him a glare. Another huff before you flicked the blanket away. “Do you even remember taking me to the event?” You argued, turning to face him as his eyes narrowed immediately.

“Again, what the fuck do you mean?” There was a harsh bite to his voice. “So, you don’t.” He stepped further into the room, the gleam of the fireplace reflecting in his eyes.

He ran his hand over his face. “Babe…” he stopped, probably not knowing what he actually wanted to say but you saw a hit of realization hitting him, his features tightening.

“You´re mad because I didn’t talk to you during the event today?” You didn’t miss the hint of accusation in his voice. It made your stomach clench.

When you didn’t answer he huffed just like you did minutes before. “You´re being serious?” His tone almost mocking. “Yes, Auston, I´m being serious. How do you think it looked to your teammates, our friends, when I was sitting at a table alone for two hours because all of you were busy mingling.”

You took a deep breath before you continued. “Why did you even bring me, none of the other guys brought their girls.” When your voice got quieter towards the end of the sentence his eyes softened, just for a second.

“You know how that stuff works, you´ve been to plenty with me, why is it suddenly bothering so much, that you go out alone and rather decide to walk home than to wait for me?”

“Because you left me alone, Auston,” you yelled, emotions finally boiling over. “Yes, we´ve been to plenty events together over the years but not once didn’t you look at me the entire time we were there.” Slapping your hands over your face you tried to hold back a sob that was threatening to leave your mouth. “I was sitting there alone for two hours while Mitch and Willy and basically every by passer threw me pitying looks. Because they knew I was there with you, but you paid me no mind.”

A few beats passed in silence. You could feel him starring down at you, processing what you just thrown at him. When you looked back up remorse had taken up his face. “Babe…” he repeated. You knew he was about to break out into an apology.

“Save it, I´m done talking about it. I don’t want to hear your empty apologies. Especially, not after you all but accused me of being the problem.”

“No, let me explain.” You held up your hand to stop him. “I said I´m done talking about it. I´m tired, I just want to sleep. Let´s talk about it tomorrow.” You rubbed your temples to try and stop a headache from approaching.

“No, we will talk about this now, I´m not going to bed like this,” he insisted. Letting out a loud sigh you got up and walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, just to escape the situation. The bright overhead kitchen lights stinging in your eyes.

Of course, he followed. “Don´t run away." a deep breath followed. "Look, I´m sorry. I don’t-,“ He stopped, rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair. “I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t do it on purpose, I was just so wrapped up in my shit today.”

“Auston, I´m going to bed, I´m getting a headache, sorry.”

He let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, we´ll talk about it tomorrow. I´m sorry.” His head dipped; shoulders hung low. Regret written all over his features.

When you made your way back to the couch, he stopped you by softly gripping your wrist. A strong contrast to how he gripped it earlier in the night. This time you let him without shouting. “You take the bed, I´ll stay on the couch.”

“You have a game tomorrow, I´m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home,” you argued quietly. Exhaustion overtaking your body, strength to keep up your strong stance no longer there.

“It´s your home too.” He slammed his fist on the kitchen island, his sudden outburst making you shiver. “Fine,” you sighed, tired of arguing. “I take the bed.”

You grabbed the water bottle you left on the counter and your phone before heading upstairs. The weight of everything crashing down as soon as you closed the bedroom door behind you.

You wondered if you overreacted, just for a second, but you knew that you didn’t. He did leave you to fend for yourself.

But at the same time you knew that he was in his head a lot recently, a goal drought in his incredible season nagging on him. But still nothing about this evening made sense to you.

--------------

You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, tiredness leaving your body as soon as your head hit the pillow. Overthinking something that had followed you through your entire life. You also missed Auston´s warm body next to yours. How he held you tight at night, how his chest was like a personal furnace during the cold Toronto nights.

Turning and tapping your phone screen to see the time for the tenth time. It was shortly after one am. Hours since you´ve gotten home. He was probably already asleep.

The bright light coming from the device, illuminated the room in something cold. Your wallpaper starring at you.

The memories the picture held made you feel warm. You were cuddled up in his lap, a bonfire taking over one half of the picture, the other half the two of you on one of his obnoxiously large lounge chairs. Mitch and Steph were visiting when it was taken. One of the best weeks you had spent together during the summer.

Following a few more minutes of starring at it you gave in and flicked the blanket aside. You knew you shouldn’t go downstairs. There was still talking to do, emotions to let simmer down but you missed him in bed next to you.

A road trip kept him away for the past week, the next one coming up a few days from now. You didn’t want to let him spend the few days he had home on the couch.

Silently you tapped down the stairs, making sure you wouldn’t wake him if he was still asleep, but when you saw his face lit up by the screen of his phone you knew he wasn’t.

The snow was still falling behind him, only being able to see it because of the lamps he had put in the garden. But they were almost covered by the amount that had fallen already so it was darker than usually.

“Come to bed, Aus.” The nickname something you used to extend an olive branch.

He lifted his head, looking as exhausted as you felt, like the stress from the day came crashing down on him like it did on you upstairs earlier.

Felix lifted his head as you took the last step. “Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep,” you chuckled at the dog who let out a sound almost sounding like a huff.

Walking over to the couch you sat down on the far end of it, facing your boyfriend head on. “Please, I don’t want you on the couch the few days you are home,” you plead.

He looked you over once, twice, three times before letting out yet another sigh.

“I don’t want you on the couch either,” he argued back.

“Then let´s both not sleep on the couch.” You grabbed his hand that was resting on his thigh closest to you and intervened your fingers. “We still need to talk about this tomorrow, but let´s just go to sleep, we´re both exhausted.”

Deep breaths followed as well as another stretch of silence. “Yeah, okay.”

He swung the blanket back and left it in a tussled mess on the floor before he put his arms under your knees and on your back picking you up.

You yelped at being lifted up by him with ease. “I can walk on my own.” He just laughed.

“Take it as my first apology for tonight…” he took a beat. “I´m really sorry, baby.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, so faint you barely registered it.

When you were nestled in bed minutes later, he had you pulled flush against his chest and even though there was still lingering anger in your chest, you let him. Relaxing into his touch, covering his hand with yours.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, probably not knowing if you were asleep or not.

“I love you too, Auston. But we still need to talk about this tomorrow, I´m still angry.” He pulled you tighter into him. “Yeah, we will. I promise."

[fallenclan]

SUNNYCOTTON!!!!! a win for the lesbians <3

i'm trying to implement more traditions and culture for Fallenclan, so behold!! giving someone a cool bug as an old-fashioned way of asking to be mates :D

First Prev Next

[cuteandhughesy]

Adore You ╰┈➤ WN88

summary: 5 times fans were more excited about meeting and seeing you rather than your boyfriend, william nylander.

[word count] 4.1k

warnings: SFW! pre-established relationship | fluff | suggestive comments | fans

a/n: based off this request, I hope anon enjoys it as well as you!! I found this style of fic (5+1 esque) was the best way to write this type of fic - so hope you don’t mind :)

🎵adore you by harry styles, she looks so perfect by 5 seconds of summer, sometimes by ariana grande, angel baby by troye sivan, + paper rings by taylor swift

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

one: coffee shop

williams hips press into you from behind, urging your further along the line in the cozy toronto cafe. it's a reminder from you boyfriend to pay attention to the moving line, rather than gawking at the large lit up menus hanging behind the counter.

william leans down, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to your cheek. "you know what you're going to get?"

you whine slightly, clearly undecided. the weather is finally cooling off for the fall seasons, and the autumn themed flavours are very enticing. apple cider, cinnamon, pumpkin, chai....it's all overwhelming.

he laughs at your indecisiveness, used to your inability to make decisions regarding drink related matters, which he always makes fun of you for - obviously.

"what are you getting?" you question, your head falling back to hit your boyfriends chest. the angle allows you to look up at him gently without losing the the press of his hips on your ass.

"i'll probably just get my usual tea - that, and the bran muffin looks really good."

you scrunch your nose in disapproval of his flavour choice. "I don't like bran."

he laughs, "good thing you’re not having any."

you gawk at him, and the sight of his playful eyes shining down at you has you feeling even more appalled. "what If I want some?"

"you'll have to suffer." he shrugs against you, once again moving you forward in the line. you're now only three people away from the cash, and the smell of autumn drinks has become even stronger.

you eye up the menu again. "i'm going to try the cinnamon apple latte - but I kinda want whipped cream, do you think it would be good with whipped cream?"

it's williams turn to pull a face. "no, probably not babe."

"should I get hot chocolate then?"

"hi, sorry," the timid voice of a younger teenager is heard to your left, and instantly your attention is turned away from the confusing menu and over towards the girl. you can tell with you and your boyfriends attention on her, the girl is even more nervous, but she continues on. "is it okay if I can get a picture?"

you smile automatically. you are always so amazed by how much these young kids love your boyfriend and the sport he's built his career in. although it was common for fans to approach william, especially downtown, it was always a nice surprise when it happened.

you move towards her. "I can take the picture if you'd like."

she smiles wearily. "I was hoping you'd be in the picture too, I love you both so much. my mom can take the picture."

you notice now that the girls mom is standing just behind her daughter, a hopeful expression on her face. you wave warmly towards the older woman.

it wasn't uncommon for you to appear in the background of fan photos with your boyfriend, sometimes even being at williams side in a quick snap of a picture, but nobody had ever asked or wanted you to be in the photo on purpose.

obviously you agree, smiling warmly into the camera. in a friendly manner, you loop your arm through the girls, making the photo feel and look more natural and welcoming. on the other side of the teenager, william smiles, slightly bending his knees to look more in line with you and the fan.

his long, muscled arm reaches all the way around behind the girl, and his hand rests soothingly on your back. the fan is extremely thankful, her and her mom happily expressing their gratefulness with sweet handshakes.

when the fan reaches out to you and embraces you in a warm sweet hug, you just about melt.

"how cute was that?" you whisper towards your boyfriend, watching as the two return to their table with what seems like her grandparents, all of them smiling because of your gesture.

"very sweet," william agrees. "you're my little celebrity."

you laugh, gently smacking the back of your hand against his bicep playfully. william's smirk changes as you both approach the counter. the young cashier greets you both kindly, and william immediately orders his tea and a cranberry muffin - you knew you could crack him.

you finally settle on a hot chocolate, your love and craving for whipped cream too strong to ignore. after all, you can get your fall flavoured drink another time.

once you're both home and william headed to the rink for his afternoon practice, you check twitter - your favourite app for social media, gossip source and news. it isn't much scrolling before you find the picture you'd taken earlier with the teen girl.

the on photo caption, which was clearly screenshotted from an instagram story, praises you and how sweet and kind you were in the meeting at the cafe. the comments are so encouraging and nice, filled with compliments directed at you.

the fan interaction was the beginning of many fan encounters with you, and if you didn't know otherwise, you'd think you were the nhl superstar over your boyfriend. 

two: puck for a braclet

during warmups it wasn't very often william would notice or pay attention to fan made signs. he wasn't doing it on purpose, but it was hard to get out of such a focused mode while he was on the ice.

but this night, william just happened to have the urge to stop and take a quick look around the crowded rink. most signs weren't anything special, and a lot were directed at other members of the leafs roster.

a neon pink board automatically caught his eye, and he finds a beautifully decorated sign held by a group of teen girls, all of them giddy as they bang at the glass to try and grab his attention.

the signs reads 'nylander #88 - can we get a puck for a friendship bracelet for you girlfriend.'

the thought of you instantly has him beaming, and without much consideration he scoops two pucks off the cold ice, gliding over to the boards.

he tosses the rubber discs over the glass, which are successfully caught by the two teenagers. in return, they excitedly throw the friendship bracelet over to william. it's a pink braided band, with butterfly charms twisted into the rope. william already knows you'd love it.

from up in the family box, you watch the interaction fondly. although from that high up in the arena, you can't read what the sign says. it isn't until the exchange is displayed on the jumbotron you can properly see the neon pink bristol board.

you watch william skate over to the bench, passing the bracelet off to one of the trainers. they exchange a few words before the trainer jogs off and down the leafs tunnel.

steph marner and aryne tavares are instantly cooing, and steph frowns playfully, wishing mitch's fans would give her gifts as well as just their dog.

you don't really listen to the two girls though, too busy pulling up your text thread with your boyfriend.

you better keep my bracelet safe for me

you send the teasing text just as the leafs finish the warmups and make their way back into the dressing room for the last couple minutes before puck drop.

after the game, before he could even attempt at giving you a greeting kiss, you ask william for the bracelet - wanting to see the sweet gift up close. it was yours, after all.

you gasp, admiring the handmade jewellery with wide eyes. "oh my god, this is the sweetest thing ever - I love my fans." the last part of your sentence is teasing, and it's successful in making william smirk with amusement.

right before gabriella mcCabe makes her way over to you - a usual occurrence after games - you slip the pink bracelet onto your wrist, admiring the charms under the dim lighting of the players hallway.

gabriella, like the mom she is, insists you two pose for a post-game picture, claiming 'you both look so cute and your outfit and new bracelet is to stunning to not capture.'

you end up posting the photo to your instagram story - capturing your and williams matching, bright smiles. the picture is you turned into your boyfriends side, with your hand resting comfortably on his suit jacket, displaying the fan-made friendship bracelet.

you caption it, 'new addition to my jewelry collection ft.my kind boyfriend who exchanged some frozen pucks for the friendship bracelet'

the picture, as well as the video captured interaction between the fans and william go viral in the online hockey community, and the love for you only amplifies from there.

three: autographs

william gathers your attention softly, the 2-1 loss from tonight's game still weighing on his shoulders. although a loss was always devastating for the team, loosing to the bruins was always an extra sting - regardless of how hard the leafs faught.

you look over at him from the passenger seat, just catching his eyes as he shoots you a glance. his blonde hair is such a beautiful contrast to the dark interior of his car, and you're momentarily distracted by his handsome profile.

"kniesy just texted and said there's a couple fans outside, so i'm probably going to stop to say hi and sign some things, you okay with that?"

you love your sweet and caring boyfriend, even after a rough game and long day, he's still willing and wanting to bring happiness to others. you smile gently, reaching over the centre console to gently caress the side of his stubbled cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone soothingly. "of course, baby."

he turns the wheel to pull into the exit lane of the scotiabank underground parking unit, and while he waits for the gate to lift, william turns towards you, a grateful expression on his face. "okay, baby, i'm sorry I know how tired we both are." he takes ahold of your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to your palm before returning his grip to the steering wheel.

"don't apologize, I love that you want to interact with your fans." you say sincerely.

once william is securely out of the parking garage,  he turns off to the side road where a small group of fans are gathered, all desperately trying to gather the attention of nhl players. william puts his car in park, and rolls down the window, letting fans have an opportunity to start interacting with him.

you watch your boyfriend display nothing but pure enthusiasm and kindness while interacting with his fans, offering nothing but laughter and smiles as new people approach him, asking for autographs and pictures. the somber mood from loosing the game seemingly seeping away as the interactions continue.

a few fans spot you in the passenger seat, and offer polite waves and greetings. now that you've become more of a recognizable hockey girlfriend online, fan interactions were more common, and you were used to strangers waving at you now.

a young teen boy approaches the open window, timidly asking your boyfriend to sign his hat and for a picture. as william signs the iteam, you notice a young girl with the teen, presumably beside her older brother.

you make eye contact, and you wiggle your fingers in a wave like motion, a smile on your face.

she waves back excitedly, which has laughter bubbling up your throat.

then the little girl, who can't be any older than 7, looks up at your boyfriend, who is chatting with the teenage boy and his father. she pokes william's arm.

her dad scolds her for the rude interruption, but it falls on deaf ears. her tiny hands are holding onto the window, and she smiles a gapped tooth smile at your boyfriend. "is that your girlfriend in the car?"

william laughs at her bluntness and the way she points at you with one blue painted fingernail. he shoots you a glance over his shoulder, meeting your gaze. "it is my girlfriend."

she hums, "she's pretty."

"I know right."

you and william, along with the siblings father laugh at the young girl, basking in her innocent interest. her brother mumbles something about feeling embarrassed, which further adds to your amusement. the conversation doesn't last much longer, and the amount of fans left waiting is dwindling down.

it's a groups of teenagers next, who unlike the last boy, are not shy at all. they immediately start chatting with your boyfriend like they've been friends for years, and william eats it up. he signs various jerseys and leaf memorabilia for the boys, and each one of them takes a selfie with your boyfriend as well.

just before they leave, one of them pauses. "yo, can we get a group photo? and can y/n be in it too?"

you didn't think they noticed you at all, to be honest. which fair enough, you think, you too would also be too interested and distracted by william nylander to notice anybody else in the vehicle. but apparently not.

william turns to you, asking if you mind being apart of a group picture with a group of rowdy, loud teenage boys. you appreciate him asking you as he'd never want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, but you don't mind and agree warmly.

william helps you get into the photo, and as you lean over the centre console, he wraps his arm around your waist, essentially bringing you further over the console. your leather jacket doesn't provide much movement, but you manage to look normal in the photo thankfully.

soon after, william bids goodbye to the fans and pulls his car back onto the main highway. once at a comfortable driving pace, he reaches towards you and gently grips your thigh over top your black jeans. "thanks again for not minding stopping for fans."

you look over at him, smiling at him even though he's focused on the road. you squeeze his hand on your leg. "i'll never be upset with you for wanting to meet and make your fans happy."

"honestly I think they were more excited to meet you, especially those teenagers." william makes an unamused face, teasingly voicing his faux jealousy towards the group of boys wanting you in their picture.

you giggle, interlocking your fingers with your boyfriends. instead of his hand on your thigh, you bring it into your lap, holding your interlocked hands there. "what can I say? i'm a hit."

william shakes his head, an amused grin taking over his face. "yeah yeah."

later when you're home, doing one last scroll of your phone before bed - william and the dogs already snoring beside you - you notice that steph has sent you an instagram post.

when you open the dm thread, you are met with the same group of teenage boys you and william took a picture with - the picture posted to one of their accounts. the caption makes you giggle, reading 'met a superstar smokeshow after the game and nylander was also there.'

steph's dm is accompanied by her mimicking the caption in a teasing matter, and you respond with a million dollar sign emojis.

you like the post and lock your phone. you turn, attempting to cuddle your space heater of a boyfriend but are denied by one of the dogs, his cold nose digging into your neck as he nuzzles into you.

you're so excited to show william the instagram post, ready to tease him by proving that you are in fact the superstar.

four: twitter mania

for your boyfriend, playoffs were always so serious and important, and even though william always managed to joke around and have fun, that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling the pressure.

for you, playoffs meant dressing in the most fun, stylish outfits and getting tipsy with the other wags. not to say you weren’t always feeling stress and pressure for your boyfriend, and you of course desperately wanted him to have a successful run- but the outfits were your favourite part, providing you with control over something playoff related.

your post was innocent enough, capturing you posing in front of your large mirror on the back wall of your and williams shared closet. the outfit was the main star of the show, and you made sure to push away all your clothes left sprawled over the ground so nobody would be distracted by them.

you’re wearing the team branded playoff bomber, the shiny, satin material catching the light in your closet perfectly. you’ve paired it with a full white outfit, a mock neck long sleeve that you’ve tucked into a pair of high waisted, mom style, white jeans. accompanied with your all white sneakers, you look very sleek and put together, especially with your hair slicked back into a curled, high ponytail and minimalist jewellery (with your now many fan made friendship bracelets).

your mirror selfie had been screenshotted off instagram and uploaded to twitter, where fans immediately started praising you.

user1 omg she’s so stunning

user2 forget willy, I need y/n

user3 the outfit is everything

user4 best wag jackets and best wag

user5 obsessed with her

user6 beautiful.

user7 she’s is so iconic

user8 look at all those friendship bracelets - she’s such a cutie

user9 we really started a new friendship bracelet trend in the nhl wag community

user10 yeah but only the leaf wags can rock them the way they do

user11 y/n is everything

and the comments continued through hundreds of replies. your instagram story was shown the same love, with fans liking the story and replying. you made sure to like and respond to every sweet message, thanking them all for the unconditional love and respect.

five: the jumbotron

unlike the first couple games of the playoffs, your outfits had become very…unique. you couldn’t help yourself and you let the superstitions from when you were first dating william come back to take over. when he’d play in sweden, you’d always deck yourself out in team memorabilia, and often you’d get into colourful face paints to complete the look. william loved it and always said your support was his lucky charm.

as you both got older, and william became a more serious member of the leafs team and the organization, you toned down your outfits for games, choosing - more sleek, professional style.

but with the boys trying to push the series against the bruins to a game 7, you knew you had to fall back into your old superstitious ways. you’ve got on williams black jersey, and you’ve paired it with black leather pants to try and maintain some dignity. you’re hair is down this time, but you caved and painted a sparkly blue maple leaf on each of your cheeks.

it was definitely a more controlled and toned down version of what you used to do back when you and william started dating, but the look was still fun and calmed the superstitious urges.

you and tessa, who you’d also convinced to paint a sparkly leaf on her cheek, chose to sit with the crowd for the game, something you’d rarely do now that you had a more online presence. william was always nervous of the idea, especially because the fans can get so rowdy this time of year, but you promised you’d be fine with tessa, and the fans are more focused on the game than you.

between periods, the media team was having a die-hard fan cam, moving through the arena and displaying some unique fan outfits and looks on the jumbotron. you and tessa were watching, sharing laughter as various ages were excitedly repping leaf themed outfits.

and then, you and tessa are suddenly looking at yourselves on the jumbotron. you laugh loudly, hiding your face briefly in tessa’s shoulder. the fans get loud, cheering excitedly as your names and titles are displayed at the bottom of the jumbotron. you both wave, smiling at the outpouring love from the jam packed arena.

for the rest of the intermission, you get fans coming up to you in clusters, asking for pictures with you and tessa. you both oblige happily, smiling with glitter cheeks as you pose with mostly little girls and teenagers.

once the crowd dies down, you pull out your phone and text william.

I was on the jumbotron with tessa and the fans loved it- im coming for you and your career honey 😉

you giggle to yourself, pocketing your phone as you’re not expecting a response until the game is over. throughout the rest of the game (which thankfully was won by the leafs), fans would come up to you both, expressing their love and asking for selfies - including carlton the mascot, which was posted to the leafs instagram captioned, ‘some of carlton’s favourite fans.’

it was all very sweet and surreal and even now, you can never fathom the amount of joy and support fans of the leafs express for you.

bonus: the amazon prime documentary

you and william make the familiar walk down to your favourite cafe, both dogs weaving around your legs as you trek hand and hand with your boyfriend.

this time is different than the last, as the amazon prime camera crew was following behind you, capturing william in all his domestic glory.

he squeezes your hand, “know what you’re going to get this time?”

this time you nod definitively. “I’m getting a hot chocolate with whipped cream, it’s been too good to change.”

william nods with a hum, “i’m getting a muffin.”

“cranberry?” you question hopefully as you remember the burst of flavours melting on your tongue the last time william got the cranberry flavoured treat.

he shrugs, “if that’s what you want.”

you squint up at him playfully. “such a kiss ass infront of the cameras.”

william laughs his usual cackle, because you know him too well. instead of answering, william lets go of your hand in favour of wrapping his puffy coat covered arm sound your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

one of the dogs bumps into your legs, which sends your knees buckling slightly. he can’t help it, he’s excited with all the attentions he’s been getting today and now that you’re not showering him with love, the puppy is confused.

you huff gently, thankful for william’s grip on you, otherwise you would’ve probably tumbled to the ground from the force of your dog. “we really need to start bringing leashes.”

he chuckles, “they’re fine.”

“no babe, they need a leash.” you insist gently, watching the way the dogs drop to the ground beside you, rolling around the melting snow as they jaw at one other playfully.

william knows you’re right, but will never admit defeat. instead he pulls you closer with a sneaky smirk, and he leans down, pressing a series of quick kisses all over your face.

the camera captures the whole interaction, from the way you giggle at the tickly feeling of williams beard on your face, to the way you finally give in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips right before entering the cafe - both dogs happily at your feet.

months later when the amazon prime documentary goes public, the clips of you and william go viral. fans obsess over the cafe walk clip, often taking the video, adding sweet romantic music over it and captioning it with something kind and wishful.

there’s a few other clips in william’s episode that included you - ones that you had even forgot they filmed. you watch back as you warmly embrace willy after a game, right after another loss to the bruins. you watch his body language shift hugely, looking more relaxed and full of relief as you soothingly rub his back, the dogs of course prancing around your and william’s legs.

another clip captured the two of you watching football on the couch, cozy under the blankets after a filling dinner. the room was dim, and the dark lighting combined with william’s warm body and long tiring day, you’d been caught sleeping against your boyfriends arm - on camera.

you watch with embarrassment, looking at yourself seemingly slumped with your messy hair and fuzzy lounge attire. in the clip, william points to you with a teasing smirk, alerting the camera crew to your sleeping state. “she can fall asleep anywhere, I swear.” his voice is quiet, trying not to wake you.

the producers voice is also a soft whisper. “is this kind of evening a reoccurring thing?”

william nods slowly. “absolutely. y/n always insists on picking the movie, promising to not fall asleep, but like every night, here we are.”

the camera moves towards the tv where the first 30 minutes of legally blonde are still playing, a movie that yes, you had begged william to watch with you.

the fans love that video more than any of them, and for the first month after the prime documentary, your social media is filled with you dozing against william’s arm.

without meaning to, you completely overshadowed william in his own documentary episode. it’s not like you did anything for that result, the fans had absolutely obsessed over you and your relationship that it’s all the posted and talked about - even over william yelling at his own teammates.

you were clearly the fan favourite, but william can’t be upset because you’re also his favourite person, so he understands why his fans love you so much.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n: make sure you check out my other william nylander published works and stay tuned for more william nylander !

[misshoneyimhome]

Okay… I have to ask for the Willy the girls out there!

Would you ever make a one shot of Willy x Inexperienced!reader testing out all his different styles of facial hair in the bedroom??

I know you did a one shot of him going down on her with just his moustache, I thought it would be a cool idea to try all the different styles of facial hair.

She must have a preference of the style of facial hair for Will ( just in general and in the bedroom 🫣 ) and he has his as well. But maybe one of them prompts the idea of trying out his different styles of facial hair while he goes down on her. He would want to see which one gets the most reaction of her, which one she loves the most, of course he would be cheeky with it as well. And I mean, I don’t think she would ever pass up the opportunity of him going down on her 😉

Ex. The full beard, just the stache, the grown out stache and some stubble on his face, or just some stubble.

I think it would be fun to see what style she prefers the most, and how Willy just makes her melt in his touch and how much fun he + her would have testing this out!

Oh love, this is perfect! 😍 We all know how Willy’s always switching up his facial hair—so of course, they had to test which style really does the trick 👅 Hope it’s along the lines of what you were picturing! 😉

Also a quick shoutout to @islandofthelostsoul for the inspo for the third night (sorry it took so long… ♥️)

Tropes & warnings: Inexperienced!reader x Willy, established relationship, 18+ smut: well, goes without saying, but a lot of oral sex (f receiving)

word count: 4.4K

➼｡ﾟ

Have you ever tried this one? | Inexperienced!Reader x William Nylander ✐☆

You didn’t even remember when you both made it to the couch—just that one second, William had come home from the game, hair damp from his shower and skin flushed from the post-win adrenaline, and then next, he was pulling you into his lap like he needed you more than oxygen.

Now, hours later, the TV hummed low in the background, the empty takeout containers had been shoved to the coffee table’s edge, and your legs were draped across his lap while his thumb traced absent patterns over your calf. You were curled into his side, head tucked under his chin. He was warm, solid, and felt like home.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured, brushing your lips along his throat, your words still slurred from the wine you’d shared and the haze of satisfaction that came from watching him score twice in a playoff win.

He chuckled, voice low and lazy. “I’m sweaty.”

You nuzzled in anyway. “Still comfy.”

William’s hand slid over your hip, then stilled. He tilted his head back against the cushions, one arm tucked behind you, and lazily scratched at the scruff along his jaw with his free hand. You could hear the rasp of it—short, stiff hairs dragging against his palm.

Then, out of nowhere:

“You ever wonder which version of me is the best at making you come?”

Your eyes blinked open slowly, warmth prickling in your chest… and lower. “Excuse me?”

He grinned without looking at you, still scratching his jaw. “Like—be honest. Do you have a favourite?”

You laughed, full and surprised, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “Are you seriously asking if I’ve ranked your facial hair based on sex performance?”

William shrugged, playing it cool, but you could see the heat creeping up his neck. “It’s valid data. Beard, stubble, moustache—each one has a vibe.”

You narrowed your eyes, considering. “…This is a trap, isn’t it?”

He turned to look at you fully, grin wicked. “Depends on your answer.”

You snorted. “Okay, well, I mean—objectively? You with the full beard? Kind of a menace. That first week after the off-season? You barely let me leave the bed.”

William’s smirk deepened. “Strong start. Keep going.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Just the moustache is pure chaos. The way you look at me with it? I can’t take you seriously. But… it does feel kind of amazing when you go down on me.”

He raised a brow, intrigued. “Yeah?”

“I’m not saying it’s the winner,” you hedged, poking him in the chest. “But I didn’t not lose my voice that night.”

He groaned, tossing his head back like it physically pained him. “God, I knew it.”

You laughed again, heart swelling at the sight of him—relaxed and playful and glowing with that post-game energy that only came after a big win. His cheeks were slightly pink, his lashes fluttering every time he blinked. You loved him like this. All soft smiles and dumb questions and teasing affection.

“Honestly,” you said, tracing a finger down the line of his neck, “I’ve always had a soft spot for the stubble. It’s just… you. Especially after a road trip. Little scruffy. Little cocky. You look like you’ve got no business being that hot in sweatpants.”

William hummed, pleased. “The classic.”

“But” you continued, settling back into his side, “that time you let the moustache grow out and kept the stubble underneath? That was a dangerous combination.”

He tilted his head. “Dangerous how?”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “You had me melting in, like, five seconds. That combo should be illegal.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “So, what I’m hearing is… you’re a data-driven person.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, the mischief in his voice unmistakable. “We could conduct a very thorough experiment. See what gets the best reaction.”

“Oh my god.” You hid your face in his shoulder. “You’re serious.”

“For science,” William said solemnly, brushing his lips against your temple. “And your pleasure. Obviously.”

You were still giggling when he kissed you—slow and sweet, his hand sliding up your side with just enough pressure to promise more. Your fingers threaded through the scruff on his cheek, already imagining how it would feel if he had a little less… or a little more.

“I mean…” you murmured against his lips, pretending to think. “If we’re doing this, we should probably space it out. Four nights. Four different looks.”

He pulled back just enough to smile down at you, eyes sparkling. “You’re really gonna let me do this?”

You shrugged, playing coy. “If we’re being thorough…”

“Älskling,” he said, voice rough with amusement, “I love how committed you are to the process.”

You kissed him once more, longer this time. Then pulled back and whispered, “Let the experiments begin.”

And just like that, the games had officially begun.

_

Night One: Full Beard

You were already half-asleep on the couch, curled beneath a knit blanket with the scent of detergent and William. The game had ended hours ago, a solid win, and William had been in a good mood ever since. He showered, walked around shirtless for no reason, and now had his head in your lap while he absently scrolled his phone. His hair was still damp, and his full beard was rough against the inside of your thigh as he nuzzled in.

“You sure you’re not too tired?” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, setting his phone aside and shifting to press a kiss just above your knee. “Not even a little.”

You smiled; your hand drifting lower to cup his jaw. You liked the beard. It made him look older, tougher, but the way he leaned into your palm so softly always gave him away.

“You remember what you said the other day?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Mmm?”

“About wondering which version of you is best at making me come?”

He grinned. You could feel it against your skin. “Oh, you’ve been thinking about that, huh?”

You felt heat crawl up your chest, but you didn’t deny it. “Maybe. I mean… if we’re doing a proper experiment, we should start somewhere.”

William sat up slowly, his smile growing wider. There was a spark in his eyes, like you’d just told him he scored the game-winning goal again. “Full beard first, then?”

You nodded.

He didn’t say another word. Just stood, picked you up bridal-style, and carried you to the bedroom like it was the most obvious next step in the world.

He laid you out on the bed carefully, like he was unwrapping a gift, kissing your ankles, your shins, the insides of your knees. His beard scratched with every brush of his lips, not painful—but so present. Every pass left a trail of heat on your skin, made your thighs clench with anticipation.

William looked up at you from between your legs, peeling away your shorts and underwear before his hands gripped your hips. “Ready to test my theory?”

You laughed breathlessly. “Always.”

He didn’t ease into it. That wasn’t the full beard version of William. No, this version was confident and a little feral, tongue broad and strong as it dragged up your slit. He sucked your clit between his lips with a low growl, the vibration sparking a jolt straight through your spine.

And the beard—God, the beard.

It scratched and burned in the best way, rough against your softest skin. Every flick of his tongue came with the added texture of him. You were squirming within minutes, hands tangled in the sheets, eyes shut tight.

“W-Willy—”

“That good already, baby?” he murmured, and you felt the words against you, felt the way his beard rasped over your inner thighs with each syllable. He held you open, relentless, his mouth devouring like he’d gone days without.

You gasped as his tongue slid inside you, as his nose brushed your clit just right. Your hips bucked, but his grip tightened.

“Stay still. Let me work.”

You whimpered, obeying, your whole body trembling. He licked you open, slow and deep, alternating between soft drags and sharp sucks. The beard was everywhere. Rubbing, rasping, teasing you to the edge.

And when you came, it was a full-body event. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into warm skin, your cry broken and needy as you clenched around nothing.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept going, tongue gentler now, lapping up everything you gave, his beard still deliciously abrasive as he slowed you down, brought you back.

Eventually, he pulled back with a satisfied hum, beard completely soaked and lips glistening.

“One for full beard,” he said smugly, crawling up to lie beside you.

You let out a shaky laugh, tucking yourself against his chest. “That… that was a strong start.”

He kissed your temple, beard scratching your cheek. “Get some sleep, baby. We’ve got three more nights.”

You groaned. “I might not survive the week.”

William chuckled, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“Science,” he whispered, smug and soft. “All in the name of science.”

_

Night Two: Stubble Only

It started the moment you walked into the bedroom.

William was already there—a loose pair of grey sweats riding low on his hips, nothing on top but the glow of his skin, still damp and flushed from training. He leaned against the headboard with one knee bent, flipping idly through something on his phone. But the moment his eyes met yours, his mouth curved into a slow, knowing grin.

“You noticed?” he asked, scratching along his jaw with two fingers.

You didn’t answer. You were too busy staring.

Gone was the thick beard from two nights ago. In its place: a perfect dusting of stubble, just enough to shadow the angles of his jaw, to catch the light when he tilted his head. Clean, sharp, precise. It made his lips look even fuller. Made him look devastating.

“I thought I’d give you the ‘classic Willy’ tonight,” he said, voice warm, teasing. “Thought I’d see how much you liked the original.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s not fair,” you murmured, walking toward the bed. “You shouldn’t be allowed to look like that.”

William laughed under his breath as you climbed into his lap, straddling him on the bed, knees planted to either side of his thighs. His hands came to rest on your hips like they belonged there.

“Tell me something,” he said, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Did you like the beard the other night?”

“Of course, I did.” Your voice was already breathy, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. “But this…”

You ran your fingers along the line of his jaw, stubble rasping against your skin.

“This does something else to me.”

He smiled. Kissed your jaw. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You feel dangerous like this.”

“Good,” he whispered, voice low. “Because I plan to be.”

He rolled you onto your back in one fluid motion, body slotting between your legs. The weight of him felt perfect—solid, grounding. But there was a tenderness in the way he kissed you next, like he wasn’t in a hurry, like he wanted to savour you.

And then his stubble brushed your neck as he moved lower.

You gasped.

It was sharper than the beard. More distinct. It scraped gently against your skin, leaving tingles in its wake. Little stings that bloomed into pleasure a second later, like tiny fires under your skin. He kissed you there, then sucked lightly, pulling a moan from the base of your throat.

“Feel that?” he murmured against your collarbone. “That’s just the beginning.”

His lips trailed lower, kisses scattered between licks, slow nips, and long, deliberate drags of his mouth along your chest and ribs. The scratch of his stubble left your skin red and buzzing in the best way. He was slower than last night—softer, but also more focused. More attuned. Like he was reading your reactions with every shift of your hips and flutter of your breath.

By the time he reached the waistband of your underwear, you were writhing.

William hooked his fingers around the fabric and dragged it down your legs with purpose. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just… intentional.

He kissed your inner thigh first. A soft brush. Then a firm one.

Then another, directly over the tenderest part of your skin—and you jerked.

His stubble rasped like a match strike, and the sensation shot through you like lightning.

“Willy—” you breathed, fingers fisting the sheets.

He didn’t speak. Just looked up at you from between your legs, eyes heavy with affection and want. And then he bent forward and dragged his stubble across the inside of your thigh again—cheek first, deliberately slow—just to watch your body tremble.

When he finally licked a broad stripe up your centre, your hips bucked instinctively.

“God, you taste so good like this,” he murmured against you, his breath hot and ragged. “So soft. So, fucking wet.”

You whimpered.

And then he was eating you with a kind of devotion that made your head spin.

Slower than the other night. So much slower.

His tongue moved like he had nowhere else to be, curling deliberately around your clit, dipping lower to fuck into you before circling back up. He alternated between sucking and licking, between deep pressure and featherlight flicks. And in between each one, he kissed you.

Not teasing. Not playful.

Just soft, perfect kisses to the crease of your thigh, your mound, the edge of your hip. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he loved you too much not to worship every inch.

The stubble rasped everywhere his lips touched. That was what pushed you closer, faster. The contradiction—the sharp drag of his jaw, the sweet press of his kisses, the filthy way he licked into you like he was desperate for every drop you had to give.

“Willy,” you gasped, your hand buried in his hair. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

His hand spread over your stomach to hold you down. “Come for me,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Just like this.”

And you did.

The orgasm stole your breath. It made your toes curl, your thighs clamp around his ears, your hips rise off the bed. William held you through it—moaning into you, lapping through your high, never backing off until you were twitching under his mouth.

And when he finally pulled away, he pressed one last kiss to your thigh.

“Fuck,” you breathed, still trembling, vision hazy. “That was—”

“I know,” he said, sliding up to kiss you gently on the lips. His cheeks brushed yours, and you shivered at the sensation again.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “That stubble’s… lethal.”

He chuckled; eyes sparkling. “Noted.”

Then he kissed you again, slow, and sweet, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You good?” he asked softly, curling himself around you.

You nodded into his chest. “That was perfect.”

He smiled into your hair.

“Just wait till next time.”

_

Night Three: Just the Moustache

You didn’t hear him enter the room.

Fresh from the shower, your skin was still damp, and your hair wrapped up in a towel as you lounged on the bed, naked and warm from the steam. You were scrolling on your phone, basking in the post-shower haze, your legs lazily spread on top of the crumpled duvet. William had told you he’d be a few more minutes finishing up something in the kitchen. You didn’t expect him to make his entrance with zero warning.

But suddenly he was there, and you felt it.

A shift in the air. A sudden weight on the mattress.

And before you could register a single sound, William was between your legs—arms hooked under your thighs, his cheek brushing against your still-damp skin, moustache grazing the delicate, sensitive flesh like velvet and wire all at once.

You squeaked. “Jesus, Will—”

But before you could say anything else, he flipped the two of you in one fluid, practiced motion.

You landed with a soft gasp, your knees now resting on either side of his face, your bare core hovering above his mouth. His arms held firm around your thighs, keeping you anchored, flushed, breathless.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, wide-eyed.

He looked smug as hell beneath you. “Hi.”

You were going to murder him. After you came. Maybe twice.

“William.”

“Hmm?” He gave your thigh a gentle nip with his teeth before trailing his moustache across the opposite one. He was already grinning up at you, chin tilted, eyes wild with mischief. “Don’t mind me,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by your inner thigh as he kissed it. “Just performing tonight’s experiment.”

You tried to sit up a little straighter. “You said you needed time to digest. You were eating a snack!”

“You’re my snack,” he said smoothly.

The sensation was different. Just a whisper of friction, not harsh like stubble, not as dominating as the beard. It tickled and teased, fluttering against your skin with maddening precision, while his cheeks and chin were smooth.

“You look like a villain,” you muttered, clutching at the bedframe. “You know that, right?”

He laughed, low and pleased. “If I’m the villain, what does that make you?”

“Unsuspecting prey,” you breathed, because he’d just dragged the moustache down the crease of your thigh and kissed the spot where it met your hip. “Helpless. Horny. I don’t know.”

He hummed. “You ready?”

You nodded. Barely had time to breathe.

Because when his tongue was on you, warm and firm and slow, your eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck.”

The moustache was maddening. Every time he moved his mouth—every swirl of his tongue, every pass over your clit—you felt the press of it. Just enough texture to make you shiver, but soft enough to feel like a stroke, not a scratch.

“Oh,” you whimpered, hips jolting as he sucked lightly. “Oh, wow.”

His grip tightened around your thighs, keeping you in place. His thumbs stroked slow, grounding circles on the insides, while his mouth worked you over with calculated finesse.

“You okay up there?” he asked, pausing just long enough to let the words vibrate against your clit.

You nearly choked. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re infuriating.”

He chuckled, then did something with his tongue that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You moaned, letting your head fall back, fingers digging into his hair. “God, Willy. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it,” he murmured.

He kept going, coaxing wave after wave of heat through your body until you were shaking above him, your orgasm building like a dam ready to burst.

The moustache made it worse. Or better. You didn’t stand a chance.

And when you came, it was with a gasp so loud you were sure the neighbours heard it. Your legs quaked, your body locking up as pleasure roared through you like a freight train.

William held you steady, face still buried between your thighs, working you through it with slow, purposeful strokes of his tongue. When you finally slumped forward, boneless and whimpering, he eased you down with care, kissing the top of your thigh.

Then he looked up at you, eyes shining.

“Well?”

You blinked down at him, dazed.

“How’s the stache ranking so far?” He grinned.

You couldn’t speak. Just gave a breathless laugh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair.

“High,” you whispered. “So, fucking high.”

_

Night Four: Grown-Out ’Stache & Stubble

By the time the last night rolled around, you were beginning to think you couldn’t possibly be surprised anymore. William had kissed and licked and worshipped you through beard burn, prickly stubble, and the unexpected magic of his moustache alone. You’d moaned for him, melted for him, practically dissolved under the weight of his mouth and the overwhelming affection in his touch.

But tonight? Tonight, he was trimmed to a perfect combination—his moustache thick and grown out, the rest of his jaw rough with fresh stubble. The sweet spot. The hybrid. A little scratch, a little softness, and a lot of everything.

You were stretched out in bed when he came into the room, shirtless, shorts hanging low on his hips, humming softly to himself, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw and the gold glint in his lashes.

You looked up, blinking slowly. “You kept it.”

He glanced at you with a smirk. “You noticed.”

You bit your lip. “I more than noticed.”

William crawled onto the bed, hovering above you on his hands and knees. The scent of him—a mix of faint sweat and cologne, something warm and unmistakably him—wrapped around you like a spell.

“So,” he murmured, dipping his face close to yours, his moustache brushing your cheek. “Ready for the final test?”

Your breath caught. “Yes.”

He kissed you first. Slow and deep. His lips soft, the scratch of his stubble setting off tiny sparks across your skin. You sighed into it, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the firm muscle shift beneath your palms.

Then he moved lower.

Down your neck, where he nipped and licked and kissed until your head tipped back.

Down your chest, his moustache dragging along sensitive skin, a ticklish, thrilling tease.

When he settled between your thighs, you were already squirming.

But he didn’t rush.

His hands gripped your hips with firm reverence, spreading your legs slowly, thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin. He leaned in and mouthed a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, higher this time.

And then he licked.

One long, languid stroke that had you gasping.

The combination of moustache and stubble was devastating. Every flick of his tongue was edged with sensation, every kiss a balance of sharp and soft.

He moaned when you moaned.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered against your skin, breath hot. “You taste so good.”

You writhed, hips lifting involuntarily. And he didn’t hold you down this time. He let you move. Let you chase his mouth.

He alternated between slow, deep sucks on your clit and gentle circles with the flat of his tongue. Just when you thought it would be too much, he’d pull back and press a soft kiss just below your bellybutton, grounding you.

“Willy,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

His eyes flicked up, dark and sweet. “Tell me what you need.”

You reached for him blindly, fingers threading through his hair. “Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He pulled you closer, arms wrapping under your thighs like a vice as he pressed in deeper, licking and sucking with intent, with love, with that perfect, maddening edge of chaos he wielded so well. The grown-out stubble scraped deliciously against your thighs—sharp enough to burn, soft enough to make you crave more. His moustache was damp, brushing against your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and it was all too much. Exactly enough.

Your thighs trembled, but he didn’t let you pull away. If anything, he pulled you closer—anchored you down, your hips pinned tight against his mouth as his tongue flattened, then circled, then flicked until you couldn’t breathe through the pleasure. Until your eyes rolled back.

Needles to say, the orgasm hit hard.

Your body arched without your permission, a raw sound ripping from your throat as the wave crashed over you, blinding and hot and dizzying. You fisted the sheets with one hand, his hair with the other, barely able to gasp his name as the pressure released all at once.

But William didn’t stop.

Not even for a second.

He eased up only slightly—enough to let your body twitch and jerk in overstimulation, but not enough to let you come down completely. His hands traced slow, possessive lines up your ribs, then back down to your hips, holding you open with reverence as he dropped a soft kiss right against your still-sensitive clit.

You whined, legs shivering. “Willy—”

“Shhh,” he murmured against you, the sound low and coaxing. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

You barely had time to answer before he was there again—gentler this time, more coaxing than devouring. His tongue moved in languid, teasing strokes, licking up your slick, tasting the aftershocks. And when you started to squirm, when your hips bucked forward in response to the steady rhythm he built again, he smiled against you. You could feel it.

“Still so sweet,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Still so fucking perfect.”

Your thighs closed in around his head instinctively, your entire body tight and aching, raw nerves exposed. But he just held you there—one arm curled tight around your hip, the other sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing across your nipple as he started to suck harder again.

It sent lightning through your core.

You tried to warn him. Tried to speak. But all that came out was a whimper as your second orgasm built with punishing speed—faster than the first, sharper, curling hot and high in your belly.

“Come for me again,” he urged, breathless and steady and maddeningly good. “Let go, baby.”

And so, you did.

You shattered.

This one was even messier, more guttural—your body jerking, fingers digging into his forearms as you sobbed through the release. He held you through every pulse of it, grounding you, kissing you through it like he was worshipping you. Like he’d never get tired of the way you broke open for him.

And when your body finally went limp, he loosened his grip, gently easing you down from the high. He pressed one last kiss to the inside of your thigh—so soft it made you shiver all over again—before he looked up at you.

His face was wrecked in the most beautiful way. Flushed, lips swollen, jaw glistening, the ends of his moustache curled just slightly with damp heat. And that smirk—lazy, proud, entirely in love.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You laughed softly, dazed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He grinned. “Just doing science, baby.”

He kissed your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach—like he couldn’t stop touching you. Like he didn’t want to. Then he curled into bed beside you, pulling you onto his chest, still panting himself like he’d run a marathon.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just lay there, tangled together, your heart still racing.

Eventually, William chuckled, voice low and satisfied. “So. Winner?”

You lifted your head, gave him a lazy, blissed-out smile. “Keep the combo. Forever.”

He grinned. “For science?”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, humming. “For everything.”

And when he pulled the blankets up around you both, when he kissed your temple and whispered something soft in Swedish against your skin, you knew exactly how you liked him best.

And he knew exactly how to ruin you with it.