#⋆｡°✩ IC — a real good luck charm

[windcharm]

( breath of the wild sentence starters | @raptcharm )

❝  save yourself. go! don’t worry about me - run!  ❞

HIS HESITATION WAS INVOLUNTARY. he blinked, & he was watching terra fly away from the land of departure, itching to reach him with every part of his heart. another blink & ven was reaching for him as a portal pulled him into the lanes between, unsure where he was going to end up. he steadied himself, focusing on the changes between the terra in his memories & the one before him now ( he had them, & aqua had them too–––– but not ven who did not have a scar on his body or a hair longer than when he had gone to sleep ).

it had been a long time ago, things were different now–––– a mantra he repeated often.

❝ no way! ❞

his feet carried him forward until he was side by side with terra. his key blade spun in his hand, a newly familiar weight ready to take on any heartless that got too close.

❝ we can do this together! ❞

aqua would be there soon, & if they couldn't handle it on their own, the three of them would be more than enough. ven believed it, now all he had to do was get terra to have faith in him, too.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Can’t Break Tradition

cairo sweet x female reader

summary: You and Cairo are rivals in the workplace. What’s with all the tension at your holiday party?

word count: 3k

a/n: office life au. Merry Christmas!

————

“So I hear you’re still gunning for that promotion huh?”

You shrug, “Mhmm yeah” you say uninterested as your eyes dart around the lavish ballroom your company rented for the holiday party. The massive chandeliers, fancy ice sculptures, and bustling crowd do little to distract from your real focus tonight.

The rando from the IT department that you managed to find yourself in a conversation with responds. “Is that why you and Cairo have this whole thing going on?”

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Whole thing?”

“You know what I mean,” he laughs waving his arm off like you said a joke. “Everyone knows," he says leaning in like he's about to share some juicy gossip. "I heard from Iris, who heard from Janice, who heard Winnie talking to Glenn, that apparently Cairo sabotaged your presentation last week so she could take over your clients." He finished cautiously.

Of course you knew what he meant by whole thing. Everyone in your department—Writing and Communications, knew that you and Cairo Sweet were both sworn enemies. Joining the company at the same time, in the same position, had practically set the stage for it—like fate had decided you were destined to clash.

What surprised you is that the tale of you and her had reached other departments. And considering the fact that this was the third person tonight to bring up Cairo to you, it was clear your dislike for each other hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone in the company.

As the IT guy rambled on about something, your eyes finally found what you were looking for. There she was: Cairo Sweet, standing at the top of the grand staircase. Draped in a perfectly tailored red dress that hugged her figure just right, she descended the steps with an effortless grace, completely aware to the sea of male coworkers now openly gawking at her.

You tugged at your red tie, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight against your collar, and scoffed under your breath. “Someone clearly mistook ‘holiday party’ for the Met Gala. Totally unprofessional,” you muttered, the sneer in your voice unmistakable.

“I think she looks incredible,” the IT guy said, glancing at you with a grin.

You shot him a sharp side-eye and rolled your eyes for good measure before scanning the room again. Cairo had disappeared from view, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation as you tried to pinpoint where she’d gone.

Knowing where she was meant knowing where to avoid.

“Seriously, though,” the IT guy continued, oblivious to your distraction. “You two really know how to keep everyone entertained. I mean, the banter, the glares—it’s like you’re living in a rom-com, only without the romance part.”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the crowd. “You sure are right about that. There’s nothing romantic about Sweet. She’s all ego and sabotage wrapped in a designer dress.”

The IT guy just shrugged, clearly amused. “If you say so. Anyways, good luck with that promotion. Looks like she’s already working the room.” He pointed toward the bar, where Cairo was now standing, chatting animatedly with a group of senior managers.

You clenched your jaw, the sight of her effortless charm setting you on edge. Of course, she was already playing the game. Cairo Sweet didn’t just show up—she made sure everyone noticed her.

Determined not to let her get under your skin, you grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and made your way across the room. You weren’t about to let her win tonight.

But just as you reached the edge of the bar, Cairo turned, her sharp gaze locking onto yours like a heat-seeking missile. Her lips curved into a smirk, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension.

“Y/n,” she greeted smoothly, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Enjoying the party?”

“Trying to,” you shot back, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Though it’s hard to relax when certain people keep making everything about them.”

Her smirk widened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, you know.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, your colleague and best friend Glenn’s voice cut in.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, you two,” he said, stepping between you with a grin. ��Can’t you at least pretend to get along for one night? It’s the holidays.”

“Tell that to her,” you said, jerking your thumb toward Cairo.

“Please,” Cairo scoffed, crossing her arms. “If anyone needs a lesson in playing nice, it’s you.”

Glenn laughed, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Classic you two. Anyway, don’t let me interrupt. Just thought I’d enjoy the show while it lasts.”

As Glenn stepped away, Cairo leaned in again, her eyes glinting with something you’ve seen countless times. “Careful, Y/n. Keep glaring at me like that, and people might think you actually care.”

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, your champagne untouched and your pulse racing.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate her, you sure spend a lot of time looking for her,” Glenn says turning around and rejoining the conversation, holding a drink in one hand and his trademark grin on full display.

You groaned internally. Of course, Glenn had to watch that interaction. Your best friend always had a knack for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “Don’t start,” you muttered, shooting him a warning look.

“What? I’m just saying,” He teased, leaning casually against the nearby bar. “First thing you do when you walk into a room is look for her. It’s like clockwork.”

“I wasn’t looking for her,” you lied, adjusting your tie again.

Glenn barked out a laugh. “Right. And I’m next in line for CEO. Come on, admit it—you love the drama. You and Cairo going at it is like some kind of soap opera for this office. My sister says even her team takes bets on who’s gonna snap first.”

You rolled your eyes, though your stomach twisted at the mention of Winnie. Of course, Glenn’s sister would be involved— Cairo and Winnie were practically inseparable. And if Winnie was anything—she was observant. If Winnie was running her mouth about you and Cairo, then there was no telling what kind of nonsense the office was spinning.

“Winnie doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” you said firmly.

Glenn raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure she doesn’t. Look, I get it. Cairo can be... intense. But you’ve gotta admit, she keeps you on your toes. Maybe that’s why you’re so obsessed with hating her.”

“Obsessed?” you repeated, incredulous. “I’m not obsessed. She’s just—”

“Here we go,” Glenn interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to continue. “Let me guess. She’s arrogant, competitive, impossible to work with—did I miss anything?”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “She’s all of that and more. Trust me, if I could avoid her, I would.”

Your friend smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Uh-huh. Sure. But you’d be bored out of your mind without her around. Admit it, she makes things interesting.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes found Cairo again. She was across the room now, laughing at something Winnie said, her smile lighting up the space around her.

Glenn followed your gaze and let out a low whistle. “Man, if that’s what hatred looks like, then sign me up.”

You tore your eyes away, glaring at him. “Shut up, G.”

He just laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy. But if there's something else going on,” he winks, "Then feel free to confide in me."

You shook your head, as he walked off looking to network with someone that could probably make him the next CEO. You gave up on the champagne and flag the bartender down to make you something stronger.

The bartender, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense air, approached with a towel slung over her shoulder. She tilted her head, her lips quirking in an amused smile as she set a tumbler in front of you. "Let me guess—bad night already?"

You sighed, resting your elbows on the bar. "You have no idea."

As she mixed your drink, she glanced at you, her brow lifting. "You’re Y/n, right?"

You froze. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

She leaned closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "I’ve heard the whispers. You and Sweet." Her lips pulled into a smirk. "You guys really hate each other that much, or is it just for show?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. "Seriously? Even the bartender knows?"

She laughed, sliding your drink across the bar. "Hey, I’ve got ears. And let me tell you, office gossip is way more entertaining than the soap operas my grandma used to watch. People are saying it’s like the ultimate rivalry. You know, ‘will they or won’t they.’"

"It’s a ‘won’t they,’" you muttered, taking a sip of your drink. "Definitely a ‘won’t they.’"

The bartender shrugged, unconvinced. "If you say so. But honestly, you two sound like you’re either gonna kill each other or..." She trailed off, her smirk widening.

"Don’t even finish that sentence," you warned, pointing at her with your glass, looking around you for prying ears.

She chuckled, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

As you took another sip, you glanced down the bar and froze. There she was—Cairo—leaning casually against the counter, her red dress shimmering under the dim lights. Beside her, some overly confident guy was clearly trying his luck, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Cairo’s smile didn’t falter, but you could tell from the way her body angled slightly away from him that she wasn’t interested.

Your grip on the glass tightened.

The bartender, noticing your shift in attention, followed your gaze. "Ah, there she is. The infamous Cairo. Gotta admit, she’s got style."

The bartender then noticed her pushy company. "Looks like someone’s got her hands full."

You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. "Yeah, well, she can handle it."

"Sure she can," the bartender said with a smirk. "But you’re still watching, aren’t you?"

You ignored the comment, setting the empty glass on the counter. "Thanks for the drink," you said curtly before standing and adjusting your tie.

Your focus already zeroed in on the scene unfolding at the other end of the bar. You knew more than anything that Cairo could handle this situation herself, but your legs had a mind of their own.

By the time you reached her, just as you’d predicted, the guy was already retreating, his shoulders slumping with dejection. Cairo’s sharp gaze followed him for a second before shifting to you. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, but her voice remained crisp.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Y/l/n?" she asked, tilting her head.

You slid into the space the guy had just vacated, leaning casually against the bar. "Just doing my civic duty. Looked like you were stuck with a walking HR complaint."

Cairo smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "And here I thought you were avoiding me tonight. How uncharacteristic of you."

You shrugged, signaling to the bartender for another drink. "Not everything’s about you, Sweet. I was thirsty."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful glint hidden beneath her usual sharpness. "Right. And yet, here you are, conveniently stationed right next to me."

The bartender slides you another drink.

You met her gaze, holding it for a beat longer than necessary. "If you want to believe the universe keeps throwing us together, who am I to argue?"

"Well," she said, her voice quieter but no less cutting, "the universe must have a cruel sense of humor."

You smirked, setting your glass down. "Or it just knows how much fun we have hating each other."

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You have no idea."

Before you could respond, someone from your team called her name from across the room. Cairo straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place with ease.

"Looks like I’m needed," she said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on yours for just a moment too long.

"Don’t let me keep you," you said, stepping aside.

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but watch her go, the familiar mix of emotions churning in your chest.

————

The evening progressed with a blur of polite conversation and forced laughs as you navigated the crowd. Glenn eventually found you again, dragging you toward a smaller room just off the main ballroom where some of the younger employees, including Winnie, had apparently decided to congregate.

“Come on, Y/n, this is where the real party’s happening,” Glenn said, grinning as he pulled you along.

The room was cozier than the grand ballroom, with dim lighting and a more relaxed vibe. People were sprawled on couches, perched on armrests, or standing in clusters, laughing and chatting over drinks. The hum of conversation was punctuated by bursts of laughter as someone commanded the group with an animated story.

You scanned the room, and your stomach flipped when you spotted Cairo sitting comfortably on the armrest of a couch, a drink in hand and a look of mild amusement on her face as she listened to whatever Winnie was telling. Great. Of course she was here.

“Y/n!” Winnie called out, spotting you and immediately waving you over. “Come join us. We were just talking about your legendary showdown with Cairo last month.”

You rolled your eyes as Glenn shoved you toward the group. “Can we not?” you muttered, but it was too late.

Cairo’s gaze flicked to you, her expression unreadable, but you swore there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

The evening wore on, and the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed as more drinks flowed. Someone turned on music, and a few people started dancing in the center of the room. Glenn, ever the life of the party, was in his element, cracking jokes and keeping everyone entertained.

Then, out of nowhere, someone shouted, “Mistletoe!”

The room fell silent as heads turned, eyes scanning for the culprits. You froze, your gaze darting up instinctively. There it was—dangling innocently from the ceiling above you. And of course when you turn to see who had occupied the space behind you—Cairo.

“Oh, this is too good,” Glenn said, his grin so wide it practically split his face. “Y/n and Cairo, under the mistletoe? This is golden.”

Winnie’s laughter rang out, and someone else whistled. “Rules are rules, you two!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the room erupted into cheers and chants of, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Cairo, ever composed, arched an eyebrow at you, her lips quirking into a half-smile that only you could see.

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as every eye in the room bore into you. There was no escape, no snarky comment that could deflect this situation.

“Oh, come on, guys. I’m not trying to deal with HR on Monday,” you said with a dry laugh, taking a small step back from Cairo and the mistletoe.

From the crowd, Glenn’s voice rang out, loud and clear, “Boo! Loser! HR’s not invited to this party!”

The room erupted into laughter and cheers, with someone else shouting, “Yeah, live a little, Y/n!”

Before you could respond, Cairo rolls her eyes, and sighs dramatically like what she's about to do will take the life out of her. "I guess we can't break tradition."

And then her lips brushed yours in a soft, little more than corporate friendly, fleeting, yet enough to send a spark through your entire body kiss. The room erupted into cheers and whoops as she pulled back, her expression unreadable.

You immediately wiped your lips as Cairo turned on her heel and walked away into the crowd, leaving you standing there, dazed and entirely unsure of what the hell just happened.

You blinked, still rooted to the spot, before your feet carried you instinctively toward Glenn and Winnie. Glenn’s face lit up the moment he saw you, his mouth opening to unleash whatever snarky comment was brewing.

“Don’t,” you snapped sharply, holding up a hand, your voice laced with a warning edge that made him laugh even harder.

Winnie raised her glass in mock salute, biting back a grin. “What? No post-mistletoe debrief?”

You groaned, rubbing a hand down your face. “I hate both of you.”

Glenn smirked. “Sure you do, buddy. Sure you do.”

————

Moments later in a dimly lit private room in the venue, the faint thrum of the music from the party outside is barely audible through the thick walls. Cairo’s hands are tangled in your hair, her touch possessive and demanding as her back presses against the edge of a table. Her lips are on yours, urgent and searing, leaving no space for hesitation.

You gasp softly, breaking away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Cairo’s dark eyes lock onto yours, her flushed face illuminated by the faint glow of fairy lights strung along the walls.

“You didn’t have to look that disgusted when you kissed me,” she breathes, her voice low but edged with challenge.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you tease, lips quirking into a smirk. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Her expression hardens playfully, and before you can react, she grabs your red tie—the one you deliberately wore to match with her dress. She tightens it just enough around her fist to make you stumble closer—and pulls you into a kiss that obliterates any thought of teasing. It’s heated, raw, and dripping with hours of pent-up tension. Her nails rake lightly against the back of your neck as her other hand fists the fabric of your shirt, holding you close like she can’t bear to let go.

Your hands find her waist, fingers digging into the silky fabric of her dress as you kiss her back with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of your secret into the moment. The world outside could have been burning to the ground, and neither of you would have noticed.

When you finally pull away for air, your forehead rests against hers, both of you panting. A grin spreads across your face as you take in her disheveled hair and swollen lips. “Think anyone suspects us after that kiss under the mistletoe?”

Cairo shakes her head slightly, her lips barely an inch from yours. “Not a chance,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of satisfaction and mischief. “They’re too busy thinking we hate each other.”

“Good,” you reply, your grin turning sly as you capture her lips again. This time, the kiss is slower but no less passionate, a promise that this secret, this fire between you, is yours alone.

For now.

Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

[solxamber]

Witch, Please- Floyd Leech x reader

You're the best witch to go to for getting the job done. Your potions? Absolutely foolproof. At least, that's what you thought until a certain Floyd Leech waltzed into your store.

You were the go-to witch in the entire realm, known far and wide for your incredibly potent spells and potions. When people said you were good, they meant it—your concoctions didn’t just work; they exceeded expectations. Need a luck charm to ace that impossible test? Done. Want a potion to make your ex weep every time they hear your name? Consider it finished.

Of course, this level of expertise came with a price—literally. You didn’t work for free, and you made sure your clients knew it. The other price? You were constantly sleep-deprived. Sleep? Never heard of her. But hey, that’s the life of a witch: overworked, overtired, and somehow still making better potions than anyone else in the business.

So when Floyd Leech first showed up at your door, you were only half-conscious and didn’t know that you were about to enter a whirlwind of chaos, idiocy, and—unexpectedly—romance.

It was a cloudy afternoon, and you were organizing your potions, mostly to avoid falling asleep standing up. The soothing sound of glass bottles clinking was the only thing keeping you from face-planting into the nearest pile of spellbooks. That’s when you heard it: a loud, careless banging on your door. Great, you thought. Another customer.

Opening the door revealed Floyd, towering over you with that wide, toothy grin that practically screamed trouble.

“Yo, witchy! Got a minute?” He leaned in close, invading your personal space like he was about to share some sort of grand secret.

You blinked slowly, still not fully awake. “Floyd Leech… what brings you here?”

“Need a love potion.” He said it so casually, like he was asking for a cup of coffee. “Think it’ll be hilarious!”

“Hilarious?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Love potions aren’t exactly for pranks, you know. They can be… unpredictable.”

“That’s the point! Imagine someone gettin’ all mushy and clingy. It’ll be so funny.” He was already laughing at the thought, practically vibrating with energy.

You sighed, because of course, Floyd would think that messing with people’s emotions was peak comedy. But hey, a job’s a job. And you did like getting paid.

“Fine, but use it responsibly.” You handed him the potion, explaining the rules. “Only a few drops, and make sure they drink it. Not bathe in it, not pour it on them, just—"

“Yeah, yeah, got it!” he said, snatching the bottle before sauntering off like he hadn’t just asked you for the magical equivalent of playing with fire.

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon, but the next day, there he was. Except now he was soaking wet, as though he’d taken a dive in a river.

“I thought you’d follow instructions,” you said, eyeing the puddle forming under his feet.

“I did!” he pouted. “I poured the whole bottle on ‘em!”

You blinked. “You poured it on them? Floyd… I said they have to drink it.”

“Ohhh… well, that explains why they just got real mad and threw iced tea at me.” He shrugged, totally unconcerned.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was messing with you. Nope, that was just Floyd being Floyd.

“Well, at least you got iced tea,” you muttered, already pulling out ingredients to make another potion.

A week later, Floyd was back, this time bouncing into your shop with that familiar grin. You felt your eye twitch involuntarily.

“What do you need now?” you asked, mentally preparing yourself for another round of nonsense.

“Good luck charm,” he said, like it was the most normal request in the world. “I wanna win all my basketball games without even tryin’. Gotta show those scrubs how it’s done.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “I can make you a charm, but it’s not gonna turn you into some kind of invincible sports god. It’ll give you a little edge, nothing more.”

He grinned wider. “That’s all I need! Gimme your best shot.”

With a sigh, you whipped up a charm that should have been harmless. It wasn’t meant to make him superhuman—just enough to tip the scales in his favor during a game.

Three days later, Floyd came back looking like he’d been through a warzone. His hair was singed, his clothes were tattered, and he had the unmistakable stench of burnt rubber clinging to him.

“…What happened?”

“Eh, turns out bleachers don’t hold up so good when you dunk the ball too hard.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Collapsed the whole thing. Coach was so mad! It was hilarious.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Floyd, I gave you a good luck charm, not a demolition spell.”

He shrugged. “Details, details.”

You couldn’t decide if you were exasperated or impressed. Maybe a little of both.

After the good luck charm incident, you figured Floyd would take a break from terrorizing you with his wild requests. Nope. A week later, he was back again.

“Need a sleep potion.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For you?”

“Nah, for someone else. They’re too high-strung. Figured I’d help ‘em out.”

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t want to know who he was planning to knock out with a sleep potion. You just brewed it up, handed it over, and gave him a warning: “One drop. That’s all it takes. If you use too much, they’ll be out for days.”

“Got it, got it,” he waved you off, already halfway out the door.

Fast forward to three days later, and Floyd showed up at your shop with a giant bruise on his face.

“Let me guess,” you said, not even looking up from the book you were reading. “The sleep potion backfired.”

“Yup,” he grumbled. “Guess people don’t like gettin’ surprise naps.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re lucky you didn’t put them into a coma.”

“Nah, they woke up… eventually.”

You rolled your eyes. This was becoming a pattern, and you were starting to question your life choices.

Round 4: The Strength Spell Chaos

It was late one night when Floyd barged in again, this time asking for a strength spell. You were too tired to argue, so you whipped up something simple, thinking what could go wrong with a bit of extra strength? Famous last words.

Two days later, Floyd came back, and you could hear him laughing from down the street. He walked in, looking like he’d just won the lottery.

“What happened this time?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Broke the hoop clean off the backboard!” He mimed the motion, still laughing. “It was awesome! Then the hoop flew into the crowd. Chaos everywhere! Best day ever.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You… you’re not supposed to destroy the equipment, Floyd!”

“Eh, details.”

You sighed. Again. A lot.

After all the mayhem, you thought Floyd had finally gotten bored of messing with potions. You were wrong. He came back one last time, leaning casually against the doorframe with that familiar grin.

“Witchy, I need another love potion.”

You groaned internally. “Floyd, we’ve been over this. You don’t—”

“Just trust me,” he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “This one’s important.”

At this point, you were too exhausted to argue. You mixed up a stronger potion this time, hoping that whatever chaos he was planning would at least stay contained to… well, wherever he was taking it.

But then, as you handed it to him, Floyd did something that made your brain stop and reboot.

He took the potion, popped the cork, and—while staring straight into your eyes—poured it into your tea.

You blinked. “Floyd.”

“Yeah?”

“…What did you just do?”

He smirked. “Wanted to make sure it worked on you.”

Your brain went blank. “Wha—”

He leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter, face close to yours. “Y’know, witchy, I thought hangin’ out with you was just a fun way to kill time. But after a while, I realized I like ya. So let’s skip the whole love potion thing. It’s more fun without magic, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “Floyd, you… you could’ve just asked me out!”

He shrugged, completely nonchalant. “This was more fun.”

You stared at him, half-exasperated, half-dumbfounded. “You’re insane.”

“Yup,” he said, grinning like a shark. “But you like me anyway, don’tcha?”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue. Maybe he was right. Maybe, in some bizarre, unprecedented way, you did like him.

“Well,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair, “I guess you’re brewing the next round of tea, then.”

Floyd just laughed, and for once, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Masterlist

[lilacgaby]

Yay request open oh oh if youre in Gumi era just having idea can I have more of his domestic fluff like planning on their future life any kind of domestic will do (๑•́ω•̀) 💗💗

title: my heart is yours eternally

pairing: boyfriend-> husband!megumi x girlfriend->wife!reader

summary: megumi thought this life he planned was only one in fairytales, but as he looked at the life he built with you, he knew it was real.

note: i love megumi pls pls pls request him more ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

"i want a small wedding." he said out of the blue as you two laid in his bed, holding your hand in his and he looked over you. "one that's intimate, i don't mind you choosing the theme or anything."

as you nodded thoughtfully, you entangled your fingers together. "mhm. just for us. and i want you to have a pretty ring too, i think you'd look nice with one in silver."

"you think?" he replied, eyebrow raised.

"i know so. and we can have a huge wedding cake-"

"vanilla."

"yes vanilla, with ice cream too. just for us."

he seemed content with that, smiling softly. until a thought crossed over his mind and he looked down at you with a look in his eye.

"i'll get you a nice ring, i promise. you just need to wait." he said, determined.

"i'll wait for you 'til the end of time, 'gumi."

he flushed and squeezed your hand tighter, he had to get the best for you. he couldn't sleep right if he didn't.

"you want any kids 'gumi?" you asked absentmindedly, not noticing the way he choked on air at the thought. images of you pregnant ran through his mind, his mind spiraling as he failed to find the words.

"megumi?"

"oh, uh.. a brother and a sister. that's all we need."

"sounds good, i wouldn't want our baby to get lonely when we're gone after all."

he felt his mind sputter at the thought of your baby, with features from you and him.

the topic of conversation eventually changed to something different, a show you were watching. as he listened to you recount how happy you were that the characters you hated died, his mind still kept going back to the conversation you had earlier.

he fell asleep holding your hand, images of the life you'd have together running through vividly, like he could almost touch it.

since then, he was determined to make that a reality for the two of you.

he proposed to you on your anniversary, taking every possible note he could about the types of rings you liked before choosing one. as he held you hand in his and slid on the ring, kissing you with only the sunset behind you as witness, he felt truly loved.

the months spent planning your wedding weren't as stressful as you handled it together. finding the perfect venue, small like you both wanted.

going on dates to sample cakes, laughing at megumi's face of disgust. choosing the topper for the cake, opting for two loving bunnies at the top since none of them could get megumi's hair right.

choosing who to invite, megumi 'begrudgingly' inviting his old friends from jujutsu high, and you yours.

him going out with gojo and yuuji to pick the perfect suit, you choosing your dress with your most trusted friends.

walking down the aisle, megumi felt emotional since you were just so gorgeous, he never felt as luck as he did when you were announced husband and wife.

well actually, that's a lie.

when you gifted him a box, full of baby clothes and a stick with two life changing lines on it, he knew you were his good luck charm.

as he promised, he loved you through even your sickness. a lot of foods made you nauseous, so he'd started to learn how to cook because it was exhausting for you.

your bump was bigger than average, not like he'd say it to your face, but it was confirmed when you went to get your ultrasound. twins.

you squinted your eyes at him and jokingly hit him on his shoulder lightly, saying, "this is your fault!"

he only laughed. at your gender reveal, just a small thing between you two, you held hands and cut a cake slice out of the cake. to your surprise, it was blue and pink.

your stomach got huge, at 9 months you just wanted your kids out. megumi would take you out on walks everyday, well just strolls around your house technically, but it was a lot for you.

on day number 3, your water broke. you thought you'd finally feel relieved, but good thing megumi was there because you panicked. he was too but mentally.

as you delivered your babies, the son first, you squeezed his hand for dear life.

when you went home with 2 kids a couple days later, you sleeping as megumi held the two in the rocking chair he'd picked out, he felt like it was a dream.

when you awoke, and he'd matched the features of your son who took after you and your daughter after him, his heart fluttered as he felt his body soar.

this is what love is, and this is what he dreamt of.

[ijustwannabecool]

I love the way you write soft! Max so much. Would you write max and best friend reader who’s been in love with him for years but it’s one sided, until he realizes after she’s starting to date other people that he is in love with her?

Late Realizations

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

Summary…You’ve loved Max for years. Quietly. Completely. When you finally start dating someone else, he realizes—too late—that he might’ve been in love with you the whole time. But love, if it's real, always finds its way home.

Warnings: Unrequited love (turned requited), jealousy, emotional tension, soft heartbreak, cursing, comfort, fluff, past almost-kiss

A/N: I hope I did the story justice and that you enjoy it! Thank you for your request, it meant the world to me. Happy reading and have a beautiful day :)

Like, reblog, and comment :)

----

You’ve always known where you stand with Max.

Right beside him.

Not behind. Not in front. Just beside.

It started like this:

You were nine. He was ten. You were the new girl at the track, tagging along with your older cousin who karted on weekends. You were trying to tie your shoelaces and stay out of the way when a boy crashed into you—literally.

His kart spun out. Your laces weren’t even tied.

“Shit!” he’d yelled, hopping out and brushing gravel off his arm. You were crying. He froze, wide-eyed. “Don’t cry! Are you—are you okay?”

You nodded, barely.

He blinked. Then scrambled to pull something from his pocket: a tiny, squished chocolate bar.

“Here,” he said, shoving it into your hand. “Don’t cry. I’ll get in trouble.”

It was the worst peace offering. You took it anyway.

You saw him again a week later. Then again. And again. Until he started waiting for you by the snack cart. Until his dad learned your name. Until you became the girl Max always talked about.

Somewhere between shared ice creams and races watched from behind fences, you became friends.

Somewhere after that, you fell in love with him.

——

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝑫𝒂𝒚 — 𝒀/𝑵’𝒔𝑷𝑶𝑽

You set your phone down slowly after sending the text.

Date tonight. 7:30. Wish me luck?

You hadn’t planned on telling Max. It’s just dinner with someone from the gym. A guy with a charming smile and average conversation skills. But it feels… momentous.

The first real step forward in years.

You stare at the screen, waiting. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Finally:

Max 🦁: Why are you going out with him?

Not good luck or have fun. Just that.

You sigh. You don’t reply.

You leave the apartment in a soft dress and your favorite lipstick—the one Max once said made you look like a movie star. Your hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You wonder, as you park, if he’s still thinking about it. If he cares.

——

You don’t expect the flood of messages midway through dinner:

Max 🦁: Did you lock the balcony door? Do you think your spare charger’s still in my travel bag? What’s that restaurant we went to after Spa? The one with the weird lights?

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. He’s never needed this much attention. Not like this. Not from you. Not all at once.

And then your phone lights up again.

Incoming call: Max 🦁

You excuse yourself, heart in your throat.

“Max? What’s going on?”

A pause.

“I’m at your place,” he says. “My ceiling light’s not working. Can I borrow your toolbox?”

You blink. “…It’s not.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Another pause. A breath. “No. But I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your voice is softer than it should be. “I’ll be home soon.”

And you are.

——

You don’t talk about it. You never do. But when he’s sitting next to you later, watching some rerun in silence, you feel it building. The thing you’ve always avoided naming.

You glance at him. His arms crossed tightly. His jaw clenched.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods without looking. “Yeah.”

But his voice sounds like no.

You don’t push. You just lean back into the couch and watch the glow of the screen dance across both your faces.

And you wonder—how much longer you can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.

——

Max’s POV — The Realisation

It hits him on a Tuesday.

He’s mid-sim training, watching old data, and something feels off. The rhythm’s wrong. His head’s not in it.

He pulls off the headset. Stares blankly at the screen.

His mind wanders—to your laugh, your handwriting on his fridge notes, your perfume lingering in his car. Your stupid, charming date.

He remembers your hand brushing his in the grocery store two weeks ago. How he felt it for hours after.

He remembers Monaco. The almost-kiss. How his heart beat out of sync for days.

He remembers last night. You sitting on his couch, too quiet.

And suddenly, it clicks.

Oh.

He’s in love with you.

Has been. For longer than he wants to admit.

He fucked it up.

And now?

You might be moving on.

He bolts upright.

He can’t let that happen.

Not without trying.

Not without telling you first.

——

He tries. He really does.

He sees you again three days later, standing at the paddock hospitality with your sunglasses pushed up into your hair and your arms crossed as you laugh at something Charles says.

Max doesn’t like it. At all.

He walks up. You smile like nothing’s changed. Like you don’t notice the chaos beneath his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you tease. “Did your light survive the week?”

He forces a laugh. “Barely.”

Charles raises a brow, watching the exchange like a hawk. He knows. Of course he knows.

“So,” Max says casually, trying to sound unaffected, “any more dates lined up?”

You pause. Not because you’re caught off guard, but because you’re deciding how honest to be.

“Maybe,” you say, voice light. “There’s this guy who works with the F2 team. Nice smile. Very single.”

Max’s jaw twitches.

Charles coughs into his drink, trying not to laugh.

You don’t mean it to be cruel. But Max feels it like a punch anyway.

He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, heart hammering.

You’re slipping away from him. Slowly. Quietly.

And he’s the one who left the door open.

——

It’s late. Quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with something unsaid.

You’re both in his kitchen, after a long evening—just the two of you. You came over to borrow a jacket for a costume party, but stayed for wine, leftover pasta, and some old F1 replays you always pretend to care about.

Max is sitting on the counter, legs swinging gently. You’re across from him, barefoot, in one of his oversized hoodies.

The kind of night that used to feel normal. Effortless.

But now, there’s tension in the air. A weight behind every glance.

You’re laughing softly at a story he’s telling, one you’ve heard before but still love. And then—

You both go quiet at the same time.

The pause stretches. You look at him. He looks at you.

It feels like Monaco. Again.

His eyes flick to your lips.

Yours don’t move.

“Max,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You’re not sure what you were going to say. It’s stuck in your throat.

He leans in slightly. Just enough to test the air. His knees brush yours.

You lean in too—barely—but he feels it. Feels the shift.

“Why haven’t you ever…” you trail off.

He looks at you, eyes wide. Vulnerable.

“I was scared,” he admits. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

You nod slowly. “And now?”

Max swallows hard. “Now I think I’m losing you anyway.”

It’s too much. You look down. You stand up. Break the moment before it breaks you.

“I should go,” you say, voice too soft.

Max doesn’t stop you.

Not yet.

But he will.

——

Flashback — Monaco, 2019

The suite was quiet, the champagne buzz soft behind his temples. Max had just finished a round of interviews, still riding the high of the podium. His hair was damp from the shower, his voice low and tired.

You were curled into the couch in his hotel hoodie, legs folded beneath you, mascara slightly smudged from laughing too hard an hour ago. He remembers that moment too vividly—how peaceful you looked. How close.

You’d been teasing him, saying you were going to steal his last protein bar if he didn’t stop winning.

He laughed. And then he looked at you.

Really looked.

The lighting was warm. Your lips were pink from the wine. You weren’t saying anything. You were just… smiling at him. Eyes soft.

He leaned forward. Slowly. Testing the air between you.

You didn’t move away. Your lips parted just barely. Your hand was resting close to his thigh. Too close.

And then—

His phone buzzed.

Loud. Jarring. A reminder.

You blinked, pulled back first.

“It’s late,” you whispered, standing. “We should sleep.”

He never reached for you again after that.

But he never forgot it.

——

Max’s POV — The Confession

He shows up at your door like he’s done it a thousand times.

Except this time, it’s different. He’s not coming to borrow sugar. He’s not here to drop off race merch you forgot at his flat. He’s here to undo years of silence.

You open the door, eyebrows raised. “Hey. What’s up?”

Max doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightens, then relaxes. He looks like a man on the edge of something big.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

You step aside. “Of course.”

You expect him to sit. He doesn’t. He stands in your living room like he’s holding his breath.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. “And I need you to just… let me say it.”

You nod. Slowly. Carefully.

Max rubs the back of his neck. “That night in Monaco. You remember?”

Your heart skips. You nod again.

“I was going to kiss you,” he says. “I wanted to. More than anything. And I didn’t. I let it go because I thought if I crossed that line, I’d lose you.”

He steps closer.

“And then I watched you go on dates with guys who don’t know your coffee order. Who don’t know your favorite movie or that you cry when you see baby ducks.”

You laugh wetly, one hand covering your mouth.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Max says. “And I think I was just too stupid—or too scared—to admit it. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want it to be me.”

You don’t say anything. You just stare at him, eyes glassy.

“I know I’m late,” he whispers. “But if there’s even a chance… please. Let me catch up.”

He finally takes a breath.

And waits.

——

You don’t speak right away.

You just stare at him, eyes stinging, throat tight, heart beating somewhere near your ears.

Of course, you remember Monaco.

You remember everything. The way he looked at you. The breath you held when he leaned in. The disappointment that lingered for days when he didn’t close the space.

You remember convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

It always did.

You wrap your arms around yourself like a shield. “Do you know how long I waited for you to say that?”

Max blinks, startled.

You laugh, and it’s watery. “I used to practice it, you know? In the mirror. What I’d say if you ever told me you loved me.”

His voice is soft. “And what would you say?”

“I don’t remember the exact words,” you admit. “But I remember the feeling. That maybe, someday, you’d show up and say everything I was too scared to believe.”

Max steps closer, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been talking myself out of this for years. Every time I looked at you, I felt it. And then I’d hear myself say ‘best friend’ and convince myself that was safer.”

You nod slowly, tears threatening to spill. “I thought if I ever said anything, it would ruin us. But not saying it… ruined me too.”

There’s silence for a second, then Max reaches for your hand.

“I thought maybe if I kept you close, I’d never lose you. But I did lose you, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

“Almost,” you whisper. “You almost did.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“You were always there, Max,” you continue. “But you were never mine. And I wanted to be yours. I wanted to be the person you called first, the hand you held in front of the world.”

“You are,” he says, voice cracking. “I just didn’t let myself believe I could have you.”

You finally step into his arms.

He holds you tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You’re late,” you whisper again, resting your head against his chest.

“But I’m here,” he breathes. “I’m finally here.”

——

You sit on the couch together, a blanket thrown over your legs, two mugs of tea long forgotten on the table. It’s quiet—not the kind of silence that’s awkward, but the kind that hums with something new. Something tentative. Sacred.

Max looks over at you. “So… are we?”

You tilt your head. “Are we what?”

He flushes slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “Together. Like, officially. Do I get to call you mine now?”

You smile, slow and soft. “Only if I get to call you mine too.”

His grin breaks through. It’s the kind of smile that makes your stomach twist and your heart finally relax.

“You always could’ve,” he says.

You nudge him with your knee. “You’re unbearable.”

“Unbearably in love with you,” he quips.

You groan. “Okay, we’re dating, but don’t get cocky.”

He leans in, forehead to yours. “No promises.”

——

Epilogue — The Finally

It happens at a dinner in Monaco. One of those post-race gatherings that’s half celebration, half chaos. The whole crew’s there—Charles, Lando, Daniel, Lily, Kelly. Even Christian drops by for a minute before getting pulled into a conversation about tires.

You’re tucked beside Max at the end of the table, his hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your jeans.

You’ve never done this before. Not like this. Not with the world watching.

Daniel’s halfway through a story about a disastrous prank on Yuki when someone asks—point blank.

“So… are you two finally together or what?” It’s Charles, grinning like he already knows the answer.

The table goes still. All eyes shift to you.

Max squeezes your knee.

You smile, fingers intertwining with his. “Yeah,” you say simply. “We are.”

The reaction is immediate and chaotic.

“FINALLY!” Lando groans, dropping his head to the table.

“I told you!” Lily shouts, pointing a victorious finger at Daniel.

Kelly’s eyes glisten as she reaches for your hand. “You two were always meant to be. We all saw it.”

“About time,” Charles mutters, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Daniel just whistles. “I lost money on this happening before 2022. You owe me, mate.”

Max laughs—really laughs, the sound full and warm—and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Told you they’d lose their minds.”

You beam, resting your head on his shoulder. “Worth the wait?”

He turns his face, presses a kiss to your temple.

“The best thing I’ve ever waited for.”

You stay like that for a moment, tucked into him as the people you love most celebrate what they’ve known all along.

That you and Max? You were never just friends.

You were always heading here. Together.

——

The party is long over. The voices, the laughter, the clinking glasses—they’ve all faded into memories wrapped in candlelight.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

You wake to the soft rustle of sheets and sunlight slipping through the linen curtains of Max’s apartment. His arm is around your waist, his nose pressed into your shoulder. He’s still asleep, breathing even and slow, like this is the first real rest he’s had in days.

You turn slowly, careful not to wake him.

But he stirs anyway, lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you with that sleep-hazed softness you secretly adore.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Hi,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.

He tightens his hold, pulling you a little closer. “You stayed.”

“I always used to stay,” you say softly.

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. “But this is different now, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is.”

Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow. “I want to do this right,” he says. “Not just the dinners and kisses. I mean… really be with you. Wake up next to you. Make coffee with you. Go to races knowing you’re mine.”

You smile, heart warm and full. “Then let’s do it right.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Start today?”

“Start now,” you say, pulling him down into a kiss.

The rest of the world can wait.

This moment—this soft, unhurried, long-awaited beginning—is yours.

——

A/N: As I said earlier, I hope I did your story justice and that you enjoyed it. If you have any more requests please feel free to send them my way. I can't wait to see what you guys send my way and what we can create together. Have a beautiful day today and I hope this brings you joy (:

[latenightreadingpdf]

Criminal Minds Fic Recs

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Navigation ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Platonic!BAU

Cases and Candies Sweet Pea

Spencer Reid

Clingy Fell in Love Copycat   Part 2 The Receptionist Nice to Meet Ya Exchanging Gifts Too Clingy My Good Luck Charm   Part 2 A Case of the Sleepies Serendipitous Korean Film Festival Study Buddies Swooping In Double Vision in a Rose Blush Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea A Real Head Scratcher Withdrawal Emergency Contact Rose-Tinted Glasses Reuniting Magic Hands Don't Think I Don't Like You The Boy Next Door Regrets Sting She Blinded Me With Science Fugitive Affections Friends to Lovers Birthday Boy Kids Table

Aaron Hotchner

Pure Intentions Like Dad Does Something Exhilarating Sleep Snuggler Monday Hugs Momma Bear Never Let You Go FBI Triathlon Suit Jacket Pure Intentions Love Letters

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[edwardslvrr]

FUTURE NHL STAR 𐙚 lando norris

౨ৎ lando norris x wife!reader

the one where lando’s son didn’t want to become a racing driver like his dad, no matter how much he admired him he chose to become an ice hockey player

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хох��

main masterlist 𐙚 lando masterlist

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

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yourinstagram Jack had his first hockey game today, and his team won! My perfect boy you make me so proud🏒 🤍

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francisca.cgomes text me time and day and i’m there!!!

౨ৎ landonorris - interview

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yourinstagram won’t miss it for the world, babe. We’re always watching and rooting for you!!🤍

landonorris miss you both way too much

yourinstagram you’ll be here soon, we love you

username my favourite hockey player

౨ৎ messages lando/yourname

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yourinstagram life’s been crazy lately since Jack’s new hockey team, and the new house. Feeling so proud of my boys for achieving their dreams and fighting for them. Will always be the most proud mum and wife 🤍

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yourinstagram my favourite man <3

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taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @namgification @aquangxl @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando @haikyuen @evie-119 @raevyng @urfavsgf @nikfigueiredo

[prettygirl-gabi]

Dating UConn's wbb members

Paige Bueckers

Spicy Polaroids

Paige almost chokes when you slip the Polaroid into her bag before a game.

“You’re gonna distract me before the game even starts, babe,” she says, biting her lip but carefully tucking the photo into her locker.

She’ll glance at it during halftime and text you afterward: “This good luck charm is undefeated, don’t stop.”

Date Nights

Paige loves casual dates, like late-night drives to grab fast food or watching a movie together in her dorm.

She’s all about cuddling, constantly pulling you into her lap.

“You’re comfier than any blanket I own,” she teases while wrapping her arms around you.

Game Day

She looks for you in the stands every single time she scores.

After the game, she rushes straight to you, still in her jersey, and hugs you tightly.

“I think you’re my real MVP,” she whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Arguments

Paige hates fighting with you, but she gets defensive when she’s stressed.

“I don’t want to argue right now,” she sighs, running her hands through her hair.

After cooling off, she always comes back with an apology and cuddles. “I hate when we fight. I just… I love you too much to stay mad.”

KK Arnold

Spicy Polaroids

KK grins mischievously when she finds the photo in her bag.

“You’re lucky I didn’t open this in front of the team,” she says, smirking.

She keeps it tucked in her wallet as her “good luck charm” and kisses it before every game.

Date Nights

KK loves adventurous dates—bowling, arcade nights, or even roller skating.

She’s competitive but lets you win every now and then just to see you smile.

“Fine, you win. But don’t get used to it,” she jokes, pulling you in for a kiss.

Game Day

KK always blows you a kiss from the court.

After a win, she makes a beeline for you, lifting you in a spinning hug.

“This win’s for you,” she says, kissing your cheek.

Arguments

KK gets frustrated but tries to stay calm.

“Can we just talk about this?” she asks, holding your hands.

She’s quick to apologize and makes up for it by taking you out for ice cream or bubble tea.

Jana El Alfy

Spicy Polaroids

Jana blushes furiously when she finds the photo in her locker.

“You’re really trying to kill me before the game, huh?” she mumbles, her cheeks bright red.

She keeps it hidden but stares at it whenever she needs a confidence boost.

Date Nights

Jana prefers quiet, intimate dates like cooking dinner together or stargazing.

She loves when you play music while she cooks, often pulling you into a slow dance.

“I don’t need a fancy night out when I’ve got you,” she says softly.

Game Day

Jana is shy about PDA but always gives you a subtle nod or wave from the court.

After the game, she’ll wrap her arms around you and whisper, “I played better because I knew you were watching.”

Arguments

Jana gets quiet during arguments, but she’s always willing to talk it out later.

“I hate when we fight. Let’s fix this, okay?” she says, pulling you into a hug.

Allie Ziebell

Spicy Polaroids

Allie stares at the Polaroid, smirking.

“You really know how to get me hyped for a game, don’t you?”

She’ll tuck it into her phone case as a constant reminder of you.

Date Nights

Allie loves creative dates, like painting classes or going to a museum.

She’s always taking candid photos of you.

“You’re prettier than anything in this gallery,” she says with a grin.

Game Day

Allie always gives you a thumbs-up before tip-off.

After the game, she insists on taking pictures with you.

“One for the memories, and one because you’re my lucky charm,” she says, snapping selfies.

Arguments

Allie tends to get sarcastic when upset but quickly apologizes if she hurts your feelings.

“Okay, I was being a jerk. Let me make it up to you,” she says, offering to take you out for a treat.

Ashlynn Shade

Spicy Polaroids

Ashlynn whistles when she finds the Polaroid.

“You’re bad for my focus, babe,” she teases, winking at you before the game.

She keeps it in her bag, saying it’s her “secret weapon.”

Date Nights

Ashlynn loves spontaneous dates, like late-night drives or surprise ice cream runs.

She’s big on PDA, always holding your hand or kissing your cheek.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine,” she says confidently.

Game Day

Ashlynn gives you her jersey after every game, saying it’s “good luck” for next time.

She always winks at you from the court after scoring.

“That one was for you,” she mouths.

Arguments

Ashlynn is fiery during arguments but hates leaving things unresolved.

“I love you too much to keep fighting. Let’s figure this out together,” she says, pulling you into her arms.

Would you like the rest of the team written out, or any adjustments made?

[levandright]

OUR SHARED RHYTHM | P.SH

pairing : idol!sunghoon x figure skater!reader content / warning(s) : fluff, idol au, extremely supportive partner sunghoon, est relationship word count : 0.6k ・ archive

synopsis . just sunghoon being your biggest fan ever, and being a good supportive boyfie <3 ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!! the idea for this was by @kozumesphone :3 really love how it turned out and hope you'll love it too!

the rink smells the same as it always does—crisp and faintly metallic, with the hum of excited chatter echoing through the stands. sunghoon adjusts his cap, tugging it low as he settles into his usual spot near the barrier. his schedule had been packed the past few weeks—photoshoots, rehearsals, back-to-back performances—but he’d made sure to find time for you. he always does.

your competitions are non-negotiable.

in his hands, he clutches a small, slightly worn stuffed toy—a plush you’d once pointed out at a carnival years ago. it’s traveled with him to every one of your competitions, waiting for its moment to fly.

the announcer calls your name, and the crowd erupts. sunghoon stays quiet for now, his cheers reserved for the moment you finish. for now, he just watches, his heart already beating faster as you step onto the ice.

you look calm, composed, the picture of confidence. but he knows better. he notices the subtle flex of your fingers, the quick glance toward the stands. he raises the plush slightly, just enough for you to spot it.

your lips curve into the smallest smile, and he relaxes. you’re ready.

the music begins, and you move like you’re dancing with the ice itself. every glide, every jump, every spin is perfect—at least to him. he’s seen this routine in its rawest form, in late-night video calls where you’d ask for his feedback, exhaustion clear in your voice but determination burning brighter.

now, under the bright lights, you’re a force of nature. his fingers tighten around the plush as you execute your combination spin flawlessly, the audience holding their breath. the precision, the grace, the fire—it’s all you, everything he’s always admired.

it takes him back to those late-night practices, the way you’d always push yourself harder than anyone else.

“take a break,” he’d told you once after watching you repeat a spin until your legs gave out.

“i can’t,” you’d said, brushing the ice off your knees. “not until i get it right.”

you’ve always had that fire, and watching it burn so brightly now fills him with pride.

the final note of your music swells, and you glide into your ending pose, your arms outstretched, your expression radiant. the arena erupts in applause, and sunghoon is on his feet in an instant, cheering louder than anyone else.

and then it’s time.

he leans over the barrier, grinning as he tosses the stuffed toy onto the ice. it lands perfectly at your feet, just as it always does, and your eyes find his immediately. the smile you send his way is brighter than any light in the arena, and it makes every second of missed sleep, every rushed flight, and every hectic rehearsal worth it.

when you step off the ice, the plush is in your hand, and your eyes are already searching for him. he doesn’t have to wait long—you throw your arms around him as soon as you spot him backstage.

“you made it,” you breathe, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“of course i did,” he says, holding you close. “what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t show up for my girl?”

you laugh, pulling back just enough to look at him, your cheeks flushed from the performance. “you always find a way, even when you’re so busy.”

“i’d drop everything if it meant being here,” he replies, brushing a stray hair from your face. “you know that.”

your grip on the plush tightens as you glance down at it, a soft smile on your lips. “still my good luck charm.”

“always,” he says with a grin. “but let’s be real, you don’t need it. you’re amazing all on your own.”

you roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your gaze is unmistakable. and as you lean into him, sunghoon wraps his arms around you, knowing that no matter how hectic life gets, this is where he’ll always want to be—cheering for you, throwing down that same stuffed toy, and being the person who gets to witness you shine.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!) requests. open!

©levandright

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Here we are—chapter five! And I have to admit, this might just be my favourite chapter so far 😉🔥 I won’t say too much because, well… you’ll see soon enough. But let’s just say—the jar has been opened, and now? We wait and see what unfolds 👀

Happy reading! 😘✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, light smut: f masturbating

Word count: 7k Chapter one ; Chapter two; Chapter three; Chapter four

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Five: Breaking the Ice[*]

::

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Ah, the thrill of a good story! There’s nothing quite like a tale that teeters between reality and fabrication, where every glance, every gesture, seems carefully placed yet undeniably intriguing. Our Ice King, Auston Matthews, and his Queen have left us hanging once again.

After their electrifying appearance at the Scotiabank Arena—complete with cheers, a goal, and whispers of blossoming chemistry—the city is abuzz with questions. Was their public display genuine or another masterstroke in this game of optics?

And now, as the Leafs hit the road for a four-day trip, we’re left wondering: Will distance ignite longing or reveal cracks in their carefully curated narrative? Auston has managed to keep us on edge, while his Queen remains a compelling mystery.

Here’s what we know: The Queen made quite the impression at the game, seamlessly blending into the elite circle of wives and girlfriends. Could she be Auston’s good-luck charm, the one to tame the Ice King’s notorious reputation? 

One thing’s for certain: this story has us hooked. So, while Auston laces up for road games in Pittsburgh and Winnipeg, we’ll keep our eyes peeled for any signs of what’s to come. 

Toronto, the puck is in play, and the stakes have never been higher. Stay tuned for the next move in this captivating chess game of love, power, and public perception.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer

_

Friday -

Your alarm went off, earning a squirm from you as you stirred awake, last night’s memories clinging to you like a second skin. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to savour the warmth of your bed and the comfort of the familiar, but the whirlwind of emotions soon came rushing back, stirring unease deep within you.

Your thoughts jumped first to the night’s highs: the surge of adrenaline as you stepped into Auston’s world, the sense of being swept up in something larger than yourself. The camaraderie in the suite had surprised you—Aryne and Stephanie’s genuine warmth and their easy smiles had made you feel included in a way you hadn’t expected. Then there was the game itself: the electrifying energy of the arena, the thunderous roar of the crowd, and the way Auston moved on the ice—confident, commanding, completely at home. Your heart had quickened as you watched him, your eyes lingering a little too long, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his gaze. It had left you feeling conflicted, a tug-of-war between maintaining your professional detachment and something much harder to ignore.

But the glow of those moments was clouded by what came after. The ride home replayed in your mind, vivid and unrelenting. Auston’s unguarded smile, the genuine sound of his laugh—it had felt so real, like a glimpse into something he rarely showed the world. For a fleeting moment, it had been easy to forget the carefully crafted nature of your arrangement. You’d let yourself believe in the possibility of something softer beneath his polished, cocky exterior.

And then the text. That intrusive ding from his phone had shattered the illusion, pulling you sharply back to reality. The message from another woman had left a sour taste in your mouth, sparking emotions you didn’t fully understand. The dry laugh that escaped you, the sharp accusations you’d thrown his way—it had all spiralled so quickly, turning the air in the car thick with tension. Auston’s defensiveness hadn’t helped, his retorts lighting a fire of frustration inside you.

And then, the confession—your confession. You groaned, covering your face with your hands as the memory replayed, vivid and mortifying. “What if I am, Auston?” Those words hung in your mind like an echo, exposing a side of yourself you hadn’t planned to share. Admitting your lack of sexual experience had been a moment of anger and frustration, but the vulnerability of it now felt unbearable. What must he think of you? The heat rushed to your cheeks as you imagined the smug amusement he’d probably felt, replaying the moment in his head.

You told yourself it didn’t matter what Auston thought. This was just business, a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more. But deep down, that small, nagging voice whispered otherwise. The thrill of the game, the sting of the ride home, the lingering humiliation of your confession—it all swirled in your chest, impossible to ignore.

Groaning, you swung your legs out of bed and forced yourself upright. Today was a new day, and wallowing wasn’t an option. Work awaited, and you knew Mr. Manion would have something to say about your appearance at the game. Bracing yourself, you pushed last night’s emotions into a corner of your mind, telling yourself to focus on the tasks ahead. But even as you got ready, that same small voice lingered, whispering what you were reluctant to admit: it wasn’t that simple anymore. Not after last night.

_

As Auston awoke, his mind almost instantly drifted to you. It was strange how much space you occupied in his thoughts lately, even after such a short time. As he stretched and began his morning routine, your voice, your laughter, and, most notably, your vulnerable confession lingered in his mind.

He couldn’t quite understand how someone as beautiful and sharp as you could be so inexperienced in something that seemed so natural. Your admission had been raw and unguarded, a stark contrast to the confidence you otherwise exuded in a professional setting. It made him see you differently, peeling back layers he hadn’t expected to find. You didn’t fawn over him or fall for his usual charm; you challenged him, pushed back, and refused to inflate his ego. Beneath that strength, though, was a hesitance that made him wonder if you even realised how remarkable you truly were.

As he packed for the team’s road trip, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your potential. You were the kind of woman who could command a room—if only you believed it yourself. That idea intrigued him more than he expected. What would it take for you to embrace that power? What would it take for you to shed your insecurities?

Still, the memory of your argument tempered his thoughts. The way you’d called him out so directly irritated him, even if he couldn’t deny that you were partially right. If this fake relationship was going to work, he couldn’t act like a single guy with endless options. The media and his teammates wouldn’t buy it, and, frankly, neither would you.

As the bus rolled out, Auston stared out the window, an idea forming. Maybe this arrangement didn’t have to stay so one-dimensional. It could be an opportunity—for both of you. He could help you see yourself the way he did, as confident and extraordinary. And for him? Maybe it was time to see if he could focus on something simpler, even if it was just for a while.

Anticipation stirred in his chest. He wasn’t sure how you’d react, but one thing was clear: he wasn’t ready to let this end. There was too much left to discover about you—and maybe about himself, too.

_

The fluorescent lights in the office buzzed faintly as you walked toward Mr. Manion’s office, your nerves coiled tight like a spring. The summons had been curt, his assistant popping her head out and telling you he “needed to see you immediately.” That was never a good sign.

You adjusted your blazer as you knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his deep, gravelly voice called from inside. Stepping into the office, you immediately felt the weight of his gaze. Mr. Manion sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, the Toronto skyline sprawling out behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His posture was as rigid as ever, his sharp suit giving him an air of authority that made your stomach twist with unease.

“Close the door,” he said, not bothering to look up from the document he was scanning. You complied, swallowing hard as you moved to stand in front of his desk.

He finally glanced up, his dark eyes scrutinising you for a moment longer than was comfortable. “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You sat, crossing your legs and clasping your hands in your lap, determined to appear calm and collected even as your mind raced. Had he seen the headlines already? The social media buzz? Was he upset? Amused? It was impossible to tell with Mr. Manion.

“You were at the game last night,” he began, his tone neutral but probing. His gaze didn’t waver as he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him.

“Yes,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “I was invited by Auston Matthews.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, the faintest trace of surprise flickering across his face. “The captain of the team,” he said, more to himself than to you. He paused, as if weighing his next words. “It seems you’ve become quite… cosy with him.”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “We’ve been spending some time together,” you said carefully. “It’s still… new.”

Mr. Manion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he steepled his fingers. “To be honest, I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned,” he said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of dry amusement. “On one hand, having a connection to a player of Matthews’s calibre could be advantageous—for you and for the company. On the other hand…” His gaze sharpened. “There’s a fine line between professional connections and personal entanglements.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you held his gaze. “I understand the importance of maintaining professionalism,” you said. “I assure you, nothing I do will compromise the company or our work with MLSE.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back again, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “Social media is buzzing,” he said flatly. “Your face is everywhere—linked to Auston Matthews. It’s overshadowing our PR efforts for the team and the broader MLSE brand.”

Your heart sank, but he held up a hand before you could respond. “However,” he continued, “it’s not necessarily bad publicity. In fact…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were calculating something. “This could work in our favour. If you and Matthews are, in fact, a thing.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Think about it. The hockey star and the career-driven PR manager. The Ice King and Queen of Toronto. It’s a perfect narrative. Clean, aspirational, relatable. People love that kind of story.”

You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “I… I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”

“I’m suggesting,” he said, his tone clipped, “that if this is going to be a thing, it needs to be done right. If the media is going to use this, then we’ll use it to our advantage. But—” He fixed you with a sharp look. “It should be done right. No scandals, no slip-ups. And absolutely nothing that reflects poorly on the company or the team.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. “Understood.”

He regarded you for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to be capable of handling something like this,” he said. “But perhaps I underestimated you.”

The words were almost a compliment, but his tone made it clear he still had reservations. “That said,” he continued, his voice hardening, “I don’t need to remind you how important it is to maintain professionalism at all times. If this goes south—if you make the company look bad—you’ll answer to me. Am I clear?”

Crystal, you thought, but you nodded. “Yes, Mr. Manion.”

He gave you a curt nod. “Good. That will be all.”

You stood, smoothing your hands over your skirt as you turned to leave. As you reached the door, his voice stopped you.

“And miss Y/L/N,” he said, his tone lighter but no less authoritative. “If this does work out, remember who gave you the opportunity to shine.”

You forced a smile, though your stomach twisted with the weight of his words. “Of course, sir.”

Leaving his office, you felt a swirl of emotions—relief that he wasn’t furious, anxiety over the pressure he’d just placed on you, and a strange sense of validation. For the first time in years, Mr. Manion had almost acknowledged your potential. Almost.

But at what cost? As you walked back to your desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this fake relationship with Auston was becoming far more complicated than you’d ever anticipated.

Your chest felt heavy with the weight of it all. It was a thrilling, nauseating mix of excitement and nerves. There was a knot in your stomach that refused to loosen, no matter how many deep breaths you took. Could this work? Would it? Or would it all blow up in your face, leaving you worse off than before?

Yet, despite the uncertainty, you couldn’t suppress a small smile. If you had to fake-date someone, at least it was Auston Matthews—attractive, charming, and well-liked. You didn’t have to force chemistry that wasn’t there; even in your most cynical moments, you couldn’t deny his magnetic presence. It was strange to think about, but some small, quiet part of you was almost… hopeful.

That fleeting positivity didn’t last long, though. As if on cue, none other than Chase appeared at the edge of your desk, wearing his trademark smirk. His tailored suit was immaculate, and he leaned against your desk with the casual arrogance of someone who thought they owned the room.

“Well, well, look who’s making headlines,” he drawled, his tone dripping with faux amusement. “Guess you finally figured out how to play the game, huh?”

You turned to face him, already bracing yourself for whatever backhanded comment he had prepared. “What do you want, Chase?”

He chuckled, folding his arms. “Oh, nothing much. Just wondering how someone like you managed to cosy up to Auston Matthews. Did he lose a bet?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “It’s called being nice,” you said evenly. “Something you might want to try someday.”

Chase’s smirk widened; his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Sure, let’s call it that. But hey, good for you. Riding the coattails of a hockey star—it’s a bold strategy. Just don’t trip on your heels on the way up.”

Your fists curled at your sides, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Anything else, or are you done wasting my time?”

He straightened, adjusting his tie with a theatrical flourish. “Just thought I’d offer some friendly advice: don’t get too comfortable. People like Matthews? They chew you up and spit you out before you even know what hit you.”

Without waiting for a response, Chase walked away, his laughter echoing faintly in the air. You exhaled sharply, your grip on the edge of your desk tight enough to turn your knuckles white.

As much as you hated to admit it, his words lingered. Was he right? Were you setting yourself up for failure? The doubts crept in, clawing at the fragile confidence you’d built over the last few days.

But then you reminded yourself of one crucial thing: Chase didn’t know you. Not really. And he certainly didn’t know Auston, or the intricacies of your arrangement. This wasn’t about coattails or shortcuts. It was about navigating a situation on your terms, finding a way to balance the chaos and turn it into something meaningful.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed Chase’s words aside and returned to your work. There was still so much to figure out, so many unknowns. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was this: you weren’t about to let someone like Chase undermine your progress. Not now. Not ever.

_

Saturday morning brought a different energy entirely. Auston was at the rink in Pittsburgh, going through the usual motions of a morning skate. Yet, the usual rhythm of game day prep felt slightly… off. His teammates, always quick to latch onto a story, had been relentless with their questions about you.

“Y/N seems cool,” Mitch had said, skating up beside him during warm-ups. “Steph was raving about her. Said she held her own with the girls, which isn’t easy to do.”

Max Domi chimed in from the other side. “Yeah, my girl liked her too. She said you two actually looked… happy together. Didn’t know you had it in you, Matthews.”

Auston rolled his eyes, trying to keep his focus on the ice. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

Even John Tavares, ever the composed veteran, had made a passing comment in the locker room. “She seems like a good match, Auston. Grounded. You could use that.”

And it wasn’t just his teammates. Later that afternoon, his mom called, her voice bright and brimming with curiosity.

“I saw the pictures, mijo,” she said, her tone carrying that maternal mix of pride and interrogation. “Who is this girl? She looks lovely.”

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s just someone I’ve been spending time with,” Auston replied, keeping his tone casual. “It’s nothing serious.”

His mom, of course, wasn’t buying it. “Well, she seems special. And you looked happy, Auston. Really happy. It’s nice to see.”

Her words stirred something in him—something he couldn’t quite put a name to. A strange mix of pride and unease settled in his chest. He couldn’t shake the thought of how things had ended Thursday night. The way your cheeks had flushed with embarrassment, the hurt flickering in your eyes before you’d walked away. He felt guilty for pushing you, for turning something so personal into a moment of tension.

But it wasn’t just guilt. It was something else, too. A pull, a quiet voice in the back of his mind urging him to reach out, to fix things before they could unravel further.

What if you decided to go to the media? What if you exposed the truth about the fake relationship and how it had been his idea to deflect attention? The thought of the headlines—of being seen as manipulative or insincere—made his stomach twist. But deep down, he knew you weren’t like that. Even though he didn’t have much to base it on, he trusted you. It wasn’t a trust he extended easily, but with you, it felt… different.

Before he left for the evening game, Auston found himself scrolling through his phone, debating what to say. He settled on something simple.

Auston: Hey. Just wanted to say I hope you’re doing okay after Thursday. Sorry if I crossed a line. Let’s grab dinner when I’m back. My treat.

He stared at the message for a moment before hitting send, a faint sense of relief washing over him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Whatever this thing between you two was, it deserved a second chance. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realise he wanted more than just a fake story to sell to the media.

Saturday night buzzed with energy as you and your girls settled into the cosy booth at one of your favourite downtown bars. The evening had started with wine and laughter at your apartment, where Jess and Maya insisted on dressing you up for the night. They rifled through your closet, tossing aside outfits they deemed “too safe” until they found the perfect balance of sexy and confident—a sleek black dress that hugged your curves just enough, paired with strappy heels and bold red lipstick.

When Maya stumbled upon your phone lying on the counter and saw a glimpse of Auston’s message, her eyes lit up. “Is that the Auston Matthews texting you?” she teased, waving your phone like a trophy.

Jess leaned over, grinning. “Oh, spill! What does he want?”

You snatched your phone back, cheeks burning. “It’s just about dinner when he gets back,” you said, keeping your tone casual, though you couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. You were grateful they didn’t press further or catch the subtle apology hidden in his message—it wasn’t something you were ready to share yet.

As you had typed out your reply—Dinner sounds good. Let me know when you’re free.—you’d felt a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in a long time: confidence. Maybe it was the thrill of the last few days, the way people had looked at you differently since the game, or the knowledge that someone like Auston Matthews had gone out of his way to make things right. Whatever it was, it left you feeling bold.

The bar was alive with music and conversation, the dim lighting casting a glow over everything. The warmth of your friends’ laughter and the easy camaraderie of the group only added to your growing sense of self-assurance. For the first time in ages, you felt stunning, like all eyes were on you—and for once, you didn’t mind.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed freely, and you allowed yourself to let go, dancing with your friends and enjoying the freedom of the moment. Maybe it was the cocktails or the flattering outfit, but you felt light, uninhibited, and, most importantly, confident.

“Damn, girl,” Jess said, raising her glass in a toast. “Who knew all it took was one hockey player to bring out this side of you?”

You laughed, clinking your glass against hers. “It’s not him,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true. “It’s… everything, I guess. Work, the attention, feeling like I actually belong somewhere for once.”

Maya smirked. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up. You’re killing it tonight.”

Meanwhile, in Pittsburgh, the Leafs were wrapping up a rough night. A 3-0 loss to the Penguins left the team in a subdued mood as they returned to the hotel. Auston, still in his game-day suit, flopped onto his bed with a frustrated sigh. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through social media, half-distracted, until something caught his eye.

It was a photo from your Instagram story—just a casual shot of you and your friends at the bar—but the image stopped him in his tracks. You were laughing, your head tilted back slightly, the black dress you wore highlighting every curve. The glow of the bar’s lights gave your skin a warm, radiant hue, and your smile was the kind that could light up a room.

Auston stared at the screen longer than he intended, a strange mixture of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride? Admiration? Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be that. He shook the thought away, running a hand through his hair as he debated whether or not to say something.

He typed and deleted a few messages before settling on something simple:

Auston: Looking good tonight, Y/N. Careful with all the attention you’re getting out there.

Hitting send, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind racing. He hadn’t meant it to come off possessive—he was mindful of your insecurities and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But he also couldn’t help the flicker of protectiveness he felt seeing you like that. You looked incredible, exuding a confidence he hadn’t seen in you before, and it made him… happy. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure why.

As the minutes passed and his teammates’ laughter filtered through the walls, Auston kept his phone nearby, waiting to see if you’d respond. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, you were quickly becoming more than just a part of his PR plan—you were someone he couldn’t stop thinking about.

_

“Toronto, are we witnessing the rise of a true Queen?

While Auston Matthews faced defeat in Pittsburgh tonight, his enigmatic counterpart was turning heads back home. Spotted out with friends in a stunning ensemble, our Queen lit up the Toronto social scene—miles away from her king.

Is distance making the heart grow fonder? Matthews, known for his precision on the ice, might just have his eyes on his greatest play yet.

As the Leafs prepare for Winnipeg, we’ll be watching—not just for goals, but for the next chapter in this captivating saga. - The Benchwarmer”

_

Wednesday - 

The evening breeze brushed against your skin as you stepped out of the Uber, the gentle coolness a welcome contrast to the flutter of nerves you felt inside. The restaurant Auston had chosen was ideal—inviting yet discreet, its tall windows glowing with warm light and the quiet hum of conversation spilling out. You smoothed the green dress Jess had insisted was perfect, her words echoing in your mind: “Sexy but classy.” Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and stepped toward the entrance, reminding yourself of the confidence you’d been cultivating.

Inside, Auston was already seated at a cosy table near the back, and as soon as his eyes landed on you, his face broke into an easy, genuine smile. He looked effortlessly put together, a tailored jacket paired with a simple turtle neck shirt and dark jeans that struck the perfect balance of casual and polished. His dark eyes lingered as you approached, taking in your appearance in a way that made your skin tingle.

“You look great,” he said as you slid into the seat across from him, his voice low and sincere.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a warmth creep up your neck. “Jess gets all the credit for this one. Again.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Auston said with a playful smirk before adding, “How was your day?”

The conversation began easily, with you talking about work and the week’s plans, but soon the focus shifted to Auston’s recent road trip. He described the highs and lows of the games with an energy that drew you in, his hands gesturing animatedly as he recounted a particularly intense play in Winnipeg. His passion for hockey was palpable, and you found yourself leaning in without even realising it, captivated by the way his face lit up as he spoke.

“So, what about you?” Auston asked after a pause while enjoying the first course, leaning his elbows on the table, and resting his chin on his folded hands. “How was your Saturday night?”

Caught slightly off guard, you hesitated, but his playful expression made you relax. “It was fun,” you admitted. “Wine, dancing, and Jess and Maya convincing me to let loose.’”

Auston’s lips quirked into a smirk. “You definitely turned heads.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you reached for your water glass to mask your reaction. “It was just a fun night out,” you said lightly.

“You should do that more often,” he said, his tone softening. “When you’re confident, you’ve got this… thing about you. It’s captivating.”

The compliment landed harder than you expected, sending a jolt through you. Your pulse quickened as his gaze held yours, steady and unflinching. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended.

By the main course, the conversation continued, drifting to lighter topics—favourite travel destinations, embarrassing childhood stories, and Toronto’s quirks. But somewhere along the way, the atmosphere began to shift. Auston’s playful demeanour gave way to something more measured, his movements slower, more deliberate. The way he lifted his glass or leaned in to emphasise a point seemed charged, intentional.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your attention kept snagging on the details—how his voice dropped slightly when he spoke your name, how his fingers idly played with the edge of his napkin, and most distracting of all, the way he ate.

As Auston brought his fork to his mouth, your gaze betrayed you. The way his lips parted, the slight curve of his smile still lingering as he took the bite—it was impossible to ignore. His jaw moved in slow, deliberate motions as he chewed, and when the tip of his tongue darted out to catch a trace of sauce at the corner of his mouth, it was utterly distracting. That brief flick, so natural, so unintentional, sent a jolt of heat rushing through you.

You tried to look away, tried to focus on your plate or the ambient hum of the restaurant, but your gaze wouldn’t allow you. It flicked back to his mouth, watching the way his lips curved into an easy smirk, the faint sheen of the low restaurant lighting catching on his skin and beard. And then… he swallowed. The subtle flex of his throat, the muscles moving effortlessly—it shouldn’t have been captivating, but it was. Maddeningly so.

Your breath hitched, and you could feel the telltale warmth creeping up your neck. You mentally berated yourself for how ridiculous you felt, but it didn’t stop the quickening pace of your heart.

“Everything okay?” Auston’s voice pulled you back to the present, low and tinged with amusement. His dark eyes sparkled as he studied you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He wasn’t oblivious—he’d noticed your stolen glances, the way your focus had lingered just a little too long.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, grabbing your glass of water as though it were a lifeline. “Just… enjoying the food.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he teased, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression, his smirk widening as he watched you squirm.

You nodded, keeping your gaze locked on the table as you took another sip of water, trying to douse the heat threatening to overwhelm you. The teasing lilt in his voice made your cheeks burn hotter, and you cursed yourself for being so transparent.

For a moment, silence hung between you, though the weight of his gaze was palpable. Auston seemed to be mulling something over, his smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression as he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his tone quieter now, more serious.

You glanced up warily, trying to gauge his intent. “Sure.”

“About what you said the other night,” he began carefully, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken again. “About… your lack of experiences.”

Your stomach tightened, and you instinctively stiffened, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your napkin. “What about them?” you asked cautiously, your voice tinged with hesitation.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as though he was searching for the right words. “Why do you think… you haven’t been with more guys? I mean, why don’t you think anyone’s lined up for you?”

You sighed softly, lowering your gaze as a wave of discomfort rolled through you. Part of you wanted to brush off the question, to deflect or change the subject. But there was something in Auston’s expression—something genuine, curious, almost empathetic—that made you pause. Against your better judgment, you took a steadying breath and let the truth come.

“I guess… it’s just always felt the same,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady. “With my ex, with a couple of guys I dated after… it never felt good. Not for me, anyway. So, I started to think maybe I wasn’t good at it. That maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

Auston’s brow furrowed, and his voice took on a firmness that caught you off guard. “But that’s not just on you. Sometimes people just don’t communicate. Or they don’t take the time to figure out what you like, what makes you feel good.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the conviction in his tone. “Maybe,” you said hesitantly, “but it’s easier to just… not think about it.”

“But that’s not the answer,” he countered, leaning in closer. His voice was low but steady, his presence somehow grounding and magnetic at once. “It’s not about being good or bad. It’s about… trust. Communication. Letting yourself go. To be free with someone else.”

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was really saying. “Why are you telling me this?”

Auston hesitated, his gaze softening as his voice dipped lower. “Because… I think you deserve to know what it’s like when it’s done right. How good it can be… And maybe, I can help.”

His statement landed like a lightning bolt, the weight of his offer leaving you momentarily speechless. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the words settling over you like a challenge, a possibility you hadn’t dared consider.

“You’re saying… what, exactly?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying,” Auston said slowly, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, “that if you want, I can show you. No pressure. No expectations. So you can see how good it can actually be.”

You swallowed hard, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. Before you could respond, he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “And, honestly, it might help me too. Keep me from distractions I don’t need, you know.”

The air between you felt heavier, charged with something that wasn’t there before—a mix of intrigue, anticipation, and the undeniable weight of his suggestion. This wasn’t just about curiosity; it was about stepping into a space you hadn’t dared to explore before.

For the first time in a long time, you felt your walls shift, the faint stirrings of intrigue pulling you toward an answer you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

The drive home was quiet but not awkward. The calm atmosphere in the car felt almost comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered between you last week. The city lights flickered through the windows, casting fleeting glows across Auston’s face as he navigated the familiar streets. His hands were steady on the wheel, and every now and then, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, a subtle smile playing at his lips.

As he pulled up in front of your building, Auston shifted in his seat, turning to face you. “Before you go,” he said, his voice low but steady, “I think we should do something. For the sake of the show.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. “What do you mean?”

He leaned slightly closer, his dark eyes holding yours. “A kiss,” he said simply. “In case there are cameras around. But also… to help you relax around me. Get comfortable.”

Your breath hitched at the suggestion, your heart immediately racing. A kiss. With Auston Matthews. Sure, this was all for show, part of the arrangement, but the idea of it felt far more personal than anything else you’d done so far.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I don’t know, Auston,” you said quietly. “This feels… different.”

His expression softened, and his voice dropped even lower. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a soft kiss, I promise.”

You met his gaze, searching for any trace of insincerity, but all you found was patience. Auston was, admittedly, incredibly attractive—his sharp jawline, his full lips, the way his confidence seemed to radiate without effort. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the magnetic pull he seemed to have over you, but something in you shifted. So, you decided to take the leap.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just a kiss.”

He smiled, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach flip. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, as if to reassure you.

Auston leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind. The air between you seemed to hum with anticipation, your pulse pounding in your ears. And then his lips met yours.

The kiss was exactly as he’d promised—soft, gentle, unhurried. His lips were warm and surprisingly tender against yours, moving in a way that felt both comforting and exhilarating. It wasn’t intense or demanding, but there was a quiet intimacy to it that caught you off guard. For a moment, you forgot about everything else—your nerves, your doubts, the fact that this was supposed to be fake. All you could focus on was him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips lingering just a fraction longer than necessary, your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you. There was a hint of a smirk on his face, but his gaze was warm, almost protective.

“See? Not so bad,” he said softly.

You managed a small smile, your cheeks flushing as you nodded. “Not bad,” you echoed, your voice still shaky.

But then before you could open the door, Auston’s tone turned playful. “One more thing.”

You paused, looking back at him with curiosity. “What?”

His smirk deepened. “I want you to do something for me,” he said, his voice taking on a slightly teasing edge. “Consider it an assignment.”

Your brow arched, unsure of where this was going. “An assignment?”

He leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the steering wheel as he explained. “I want you to take some time and think about what turns you on. What really works for you. Explore a little—get to know yourself better.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks as you processed his words. “Auston…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“It’s not weird,” he said quickly, his tone calm but firm. “It’s normal. You said you’ve never had a good experience, right? Well, this is a good place to start. Figure out what you like, what feels good. Trust me—it’ll help.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. “You’re serious.”

“Completely,” he said, his smirk softening into a gentle smile. “Just try it out.”

Still flustered, you nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air. Before you closed the door, Auston called out, his voice lighter now. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Auston,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual. As you walked toward your building, your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions, the lingering warmth of his kiss still tingling on your lips.

For better or worse, tonight had shifted something between you. And as you closed your apartment door behind you, you couldn’t help but think about this “assignment”.

As you slipped into bed, the soft sheets brushing against your skin, you found yourself replaying the evening in your mind. The way Auston’s lips had felt on yours—gentle, soft, yet charged with something you couldn’t quite define—was impossible to ignore. The memory sent a warm ripple through you, making your body hum with an unfamiliar mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

Hesitant but emboldened by the quiet privacy of the moment, you allowed your hands to drift over your body, tentative and slow. Your fingers traced along your collarbone, down the curve of your torso, and finally rested at the apex of your thighs. The warmth pooling there was undeniable, a response to thoughts you hadn’t dared entertain before.

Most likely unintentionally, your mind drifted to Auston: his low, steady voice, the way he’d looked at you as if he could see past every layer you tried to keep hidden. Closing our eyes, you imagined his hands instead of yours—large, warm, confident—as they roamed over your skin, leaving sparks in their wake. You thought of his lips, the way they had brushed against yours with such deliberate care, and wondered how they might feel against the sensitive hollow of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, or lower.

As your fingers slowly traced your clothed core, circling your most sensitive spot, you let your thoughts delve deeper. You pictured his hands guiding yours, his voice coaxing you to let go of your inhibitions. The fantasy unravelled slowly, a tapestry of whispered promises and soft touches, building a heat that spread through your body. Your breaths grew shallow, your lips parted, and you frowned your eyes, surrendering to the sensations.

When the tension finally broke, it was like a wave cresting and then receding, leaving you breathless and still. You weren’t entirely sure if what you’d felt was an orgasm—it was different from the fleeting pleasure you’d chased in the past, deeper and more consuming—but it left you with a strange mix of relief and wonder.

As you lay there in the aftermath, your heart gradually slowing to its usual rhythm, you couldn’t help but think of Auston’s words again. Trust. Communication. Letting go. Perhaps there was more truth to them than you’d realised. And maybe, just maybe, this was the first step toward something you’d never allowed yourself to believe was possible.

_

“Dearest Toronto readers,

The saga continues, and oh, what a saga it is. Our Ice King has returned home, triumphant from his battle in Winnipeg, but the true victory might have nothing to do with hockey.

A romantic dinner at a cosy local spot unfolded tonight, where Auston Matthews and his Queen once again seized the city’s attention. Witnesses reported stolen glances, lingering smiles, and a chemistry so undeniable it could melt even the iciest rink.

But what truly caught our attention? A stolen kiss in the evening’s carriage, before the Queen departed into the night. It wasn’t the kind of staged affection we’ve seen in carefully curated public romances. No, this moment held an air of intimacy, of something unscripted, raw, and entirely their own. A kiss that whispered of possibility.

Toronto, are we witnessing a true royal romance?

As the Leafs settle back into their season, one thing is clear—our Queen is growing into her role. She’s no longer just a supporting character in Auston’s spotlight; she’s commanding her own. The confidence radiating from her isn’t just captivating Auston—it’s captivating us all.

So, we’ll keep watching, dissecting every glance and every stolen kiss. Because, after all, the greatest stories are the ones that leave us guessing.

Until next time, dear readers. Stay tuned for more intrigue, ice, and irresistible tension. 

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

[boneblushed]

Untouchable

part 1 | part 2

synopsis it is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

wc 2K

Rafe Cameron likes to do this thing where he pretends that he's hopelessly in love with you.

Every morning, when you walk past him in the Academy carpark, he says, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Easy on the morning, rolling the sweet over his tongue so heart sounds thick as brown molasses. He always has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the emblem on his breast-pocket hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Sometimes you humour him. Often you avoid acknowledging him altogether.

He has a tendency to call you every pretty noun under the sun except your actual name. Though he has a certain predilection for sweetheart, he’ll always follow up your carpark rendezvous—if you could even call it that—with a, “Wait up, beautiful!” Gorgeous if you’re particularly unlucky. You’re pretty sure he does this because it’s more convenient than remembering your name; that, or he’s covering his ass in case he mixes you up with the other girls on his roster.

“C’mon,” he adds, catching you up with ease, “think you can give me a smile today, birdie?”

That’s a new one. You frown hard, conveying your disapproval at being branded by yet another nickname against your will.

“Think you can show me you deserve it, Cameron?”

Rafe slaps his hand against his chest, faux-affronted. “Oof, I’m wounded.” He grins fondly. “You know that it’s bad luck to ice out the Head Boy on the first day, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter grimly, quickening your pace in an attempt to create some distance from him. It’s a futile attempt at hostility; he’s heading to the same handsome office that you are, home to the Academy’s once imposing headmaster.

He’s gotten soft over the years. It’s the only explanation, really, for why he’s chosen such a diametrically opposed duo to be the Head Boy and Girl respectively. Where you’re serious, unsmiling, easy on the eyes and hard on the ego, Rafe Cameron is this cocky, deceptively charming wall of solid muscle. He’s attractive in that way that’s made him every girl’s default love interest, and even worse, he enjoys the attention as much as you absolutely hate it.

“Remind you?” Rafe echoes, feigning bemusement. “Of what? That we’re partners now, partner?”

You force a breath of air out through your nose, halting in your tracks and turning to face him. He doesn’t think you look nearly as formidable as you want to, especially with that sweet, little furrow between your eyebrows. He tries to look earnest, as if proving his maturity is going to make you hate him any less than you do.

He’s to blame for the animosity, of course — callow, sophomore year him who called you “seriously fucking hot” in the boy’s locker room, and then in the gym, within earshot, added, “shame she’s such a frigid bitch, huh?” He didn’t mean it, and he was very clearly wounded; if you could’ve seen his face as he’d said it, maybe the cracks in his armour of indifference would’ve been more obvious. Maybe you would’ve realised he was deflecting from the fact that your rejection had really hurt him.

But then again, maybe you wouldn’t have. Because in what world was yelling “Go out with me?”—crudely, callously, you might add—from across the classroom meant to be taken for real? You’d assumed that sophomore year him was making fun of you. When you said no, he assumed that sophomore year you just wasn’t interested.

Fast forward two years, to now, it’s clear that neither of those assumptions were wholly true. You walk past the front reception and toward the headmaster’s office in tandem, halting just short of his closed door, a polished knocker hanging directly above eye-level.

As you reach up and press it against the smooth mahogany, you send him a wayward glance. “Just because we have to work together this year,” you say evenly, “doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, sending you a mock salute.

This just makes you frown harder than before, as if that’s fucking possible. He’s going to get a smile out of you if it fucking kills him. “I mean it, Cameron.” You let go of the knocker to punch your forefinger into his chest, eyes narrowed sternly. “No more sweetheart, beautiful, gorgeous, honey, whatever. If there’s one thing I deserve, as your,” you raise your fingers in air-quotes, “‘partner’, it’s a bit of respect. That clear?”

He’s never once called you honey. He raises his eyebrows. “Darling?”

You let out this sigh that’s more disappointment than frustration, like you didn’t want to deal with this, like you almost expected more from him. It makes his mouth go dry. “You know what?” you say, shaking your head defeatedly. “Never mind. I thought... I don't know, I thought that if Cromwell’d chosen you to be the Head Boy, maybe you’d done some growing up since sophomore year. But clearly he's getting old, because —”

“Who’s getting old?” A pleasant voice interrupts, the mahogany door in front of you jolting open abruptly. “Miss Y/L/N,” Headmaster Cromwell adds, mock-austere. “I sure hope you aren’t talking about me.”

“Headmaster Cromwell,” you answer, eyes widening sheepishly. “I didn’t mean —”

“She was talking about me, Crom-dog,” Rafe pipes up, throwing him arm around your shoulder genially. When he pulls you into his side, the smell of his vetiver and musk cologne grows ever present. “Us. How we’re no longer the scrawny little freshmen we were when we first met you.”

He pauses, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Women, am I right? Always so sentimental.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, shaking him off in a hurry. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees with a grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the price you pay for a uniform blouse, he privately thinks it should be made of thicker fabric. He can still feel your soft skin pressing into all his finger calluses. “You wanted to see us, sir?”

He nods significantly, beckoning the two of you into his office. “Yes, yes, come in,” he says, taking a seat in his brown leather chair, the headrest cracking with age. “First day of senior year, eh? How are the two of you feeling?”

“Apprehensive,” you say, sending Rafe a glare.

He meets your gaze with something akin to amusement, his blue eyes full of mirth. “Sentimental.”

“Ah.” Cromwell raises his eyebrows, regarding the pair of you with interest. “And you’ll be conveying these emotions at your address this Friday, I imagine?”

Your head whips back to his desk, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. “Oh. Um —”

“Because of course,” he adds, clasping his hands together on his desk, “the start of year speech isn’t just tradition, it’s a collaborative effort. As head students, leading the fortnightly school assemblies is going to be one of your biggest responsibilities.”

“Right,” you agree, nodding vigorously. “I assure you, Headmaster Cromwell, it’s all under control.”

Rafe turns to face you, surprised. “It is?”

“Of course it is, Cameron,” you answer tiredly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

Cromwell frowns. “A collaborative effort, Miss Y/L/N.”

You swallow a sigh, plastering on a smile before turning in tandem and nodding. Fake though it may be, being on the receiving end of one of your smiles makes Rafe unusually pleased. He grins back handsomely, his head cocked toward you in a way that accents his stubbled jawline.

“All I’m saying is,” you say carefully, the smile becoming more gritted teeth than anything remotely amicable, “I’ve… made a start on it. I know that you’ve got football trials to organise, so I thought —”

“Successfully delegated,” Rafe interjects. “Got Ollie organising them this year.” He pauses, leaning toward you and clearing his throat. “You know… to free up time for this partnership.”

“Excellent!” Cromwell exclaims before you’re able to protest, clapping his hands together approvingly. “Already taking initiative. Excellent, excellent…”

He reaches for the hefty stack of papers to his left, plucking off the two forms at the top of the pile. “Here,” he says, handing one to each of you. “A suggested programme for your first meeting with this year’s prefects.”

You accept it with a nod, scanning over the template before folding it once, twice, careful. Beside you, Rafe throws his into his bag callously, threatening a migraine.

“As you know, alongside the school assemblies, you’ll be in charge of timetabling prefect duties and maintaining order. Of course, we’ll meet every fortnight or so so I can check in — ensure everything’s running as smoothly as possible.” He pauses here, looking between you through assessing grey eyes. “Being the face of this institution is a massive undertaking, you two. You’re responsible for more than just the student body… you’re responsible for Kildare Academy’s legacy.” Another pause. “It can be quite the burden. It’s important that you trust each other… know that you can rely on one another.”

You clear your throat gauchely. Rafe feels this strange jolt in his chest as Cromwell’s words wash over him.

You’re saved the awkwardness of having to respectfully disagree with him by the peal of the bell, signalling the start of first period. Cromwell springs up and nods in dismissal, the lapels of his suit jacket quivering like jowls. “Alright then!” He exclaims, smiling jovially. “I look forward to hearing your address this Friday!”

You return his smile, albeit reluctantly, avoiding eye contact with Rafe as you turn around and exit. Though you’re determined to make it to class without having to engage in any more conversation, it appears Rafe Cameron’s more determined to do the opposite.

Scratch unnecessary though. He’s pretty sure every precious second that he’s trying for more receiving-end smile is another that shows him time is of the essence.

“What did you reckon?” He asks, messing with his dirty-blonde locks absentmindedly.

The side of his elbow brushes your blouse, and you begin to walk faster, incensed by his closeness. Despite this, he refuses to back down, “Think it’s true? Him retiring this year? Cause shit, it’d explain all that crap about responsibility and legacy.”

You frown at your feet and continue to soldier forward. Rafe tries again, “Remember when Jake was head boy? Kelce’s older brother? Swear to God he didn’t get speeches like that from Crommy… I mean, shit, he was doing all this and organising football practice, not to mention all the parties he—”

“Look,” you interrupt abruptly, letting out a tired sigh. “Yeah, whatever, I won’t tell Cromwell, alright? As long as you just… just do everything you’re scheduled to do.”

Rafe turns toward you, frowning bemusedly. “Huh?”

“That’s what you’re getting at, right?” You ask impatiently, because you’re late and the second bell is about to ring and you really don’t have time for this, not with Rafe Cameron. “Doing the bare minimum just like Jake Smith did? Because yeah, whatever, that’s fine — in fact, I’d almost prefer it to trying to work together.”

Rafe draws back slightly, regarding you for a moment. “Huh.” A pause. “You think I don’t deserve it.”

You balk at his expression, something dejected behind blue irises. “Well, I,” you hesitate, “no. I just… I don’t want to work with someone who doesn’t consider this a priority.”

“You’re a priority to me,” he says, referring to the guy sophomore year you had once rejected.

“Not me,” you mutter irritatedly, cheeks warming. “Head student stuff. You know — all those things Jake Smith got away with not doing?”

“As I seem to recall,” Rafe replies matter-of-factly, unperturbed, “I’ve already delegated football trials to Ollie to free up time.”

“For the speech,” you say slowly, unsure.

For you. “For the speech,” Rafe affirms, looking down at you in this sincere way that makes your head hurt.

You swallow. “Alright then. We’ll do it Wednesday after school.”

Rafe grins triumphantly, nudging your chin with the hook of his forefinger. “Your place or mine, sweetheart?”

“Cameron,” you warn, ducking out of his reach with a frown.

“Sorry.” He nods faux-apologetically. “You prefer honey, yeah?”

“If you call me anything other than my name, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“In my sleep?” He asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “So you’ll be on my bed, huh? Knew it. Knew you had a secret thing for me.”

“School library, Cameron,” you say grimly, beginning to walk away. “4pm on Wednesday. Don’t be late.”

Rafe nods again, sending you a mock salute. “Oh don’t worry,” he calls after you. “I never keep a lady waiting.”

[cartierre]

VIDEO GAMES | ls2

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU logan sargeant x fem!streamer!girlfriend

side note: the youtube profile took me forever to edit because i couldn't find a nice template so i did it myself. nearly ripped my hair out, but now i have a template to reuse!

♡ liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 398,003 others

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view all 1,739 comments

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tagged: alex_albon, logansargeant, yukitsunoda0511

yourusername miami dUmP (i was told a dump is only a good dump if yuki is included)

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♡ liked by logansargeant, dennis_hauger and 378,938 others

tagged: logansargeant

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[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #14: The Valentines Day Debacle

“debacle • \dee-BAH-kul\ • noun.

1 : a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river 

2 : a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout

3 a : a great disaster b : a complete failure : fiasco.”

~ It was Valentine’s Day and Jason regrets agreeing to go on this date.

Weelll, kind of, but not exactly.

This “date” was actually a covert-op with three caped chaperones because he, Steph, Tim and Cass were all on cases that ended up being the same case.

Steph and Tim had caught wind of some allegedly magic potions becoming popular among college students used to help students score dates with their up coming Valentines. There weren’t any outright love potions but confidence boosters, things to increase your attractiveness, luck boosters, thing to get people in the mood. They had been investigating into it to make sure this wasn’t secretly a drug ring but found it to some real magical bullshit. They’d located the source’s lair/lab where they brewed the potions but not the potion brewer themselves.

Cass had been in Hong Kong when she caught wind of one of her targets following rumors of a witch who specialized in potions to grant small boons and bewitching charms. After dealing with her target she started tracking down the witch to find out her goals and intentions. She followed her trail across Asia, Europe and a good portion of the eastern seaboard before her path led her to Gotham.

Jason was investigating some upper middle class chick that started hanging around the alley trying to get in with the prostitutes and drag queens(and only succeeding in making them suspicious). She met several young men who abandoned the gang allegiances too trail after her like puppies. His investigation showed she was also circling Gotham elites and was in search of gossip on two things: people looking for love and a beau for herself.

They had been going over their cases at a team meeting when they realized their 3 targets were all the same woman. Between the four of them they pieced out she was some new age witch, descendent from an older family line looking to get rich and in a relationship. Her potions weren't really actively harmful but her use of them to gain the upper hand in business deals and amass a following of boytoys she decided weren’t hunky enough for her but would do as muscle was.

Tim and Steph knew she was planning on selling her potions at the Valentine’s/Winter market place in Robinson Park coming up. Jason and Cass knew she was looking to net some more followers while they were there so the plan was simple. One of the guys would go undercover to try and get recruited while the others stayed nearby for back up. They’d try to get some information out of her and if the need for it arose, to take her into custody and hand her off to the Justice League Dark. They’d already talked to Zatana to have her ready to come to Gotham should things go awry and gotten a charm from her to prevent them from getting put under her control.

Oh if only this didn’t go so wrong.

Unfortunately for Jason, he matched their little witch’s tastes to a tee. Thus, he was the one stuck being dragged around market under the guise of having agreed to a date with her. She dragged him around, made him pay for her things, tried to use his stature to intimidate others and was generally rude to the other patrons and staff. Oh, Jason despised her but grit his teeth and pretended to play nice. Cass was investigating her stall and Steph and Tim were tailing them.

Finally over the comms he heard the team confirm Cass had found the info she was looking for and he could finally ditch little miss witch. He broke it to her that he thought this wouldn’t work out and her eye just twitched. She must have tried to charm him because she asked him to stay with her and become her main beau, which he soundly refused. This set her off on a rage as she screeched over how her charm didn’t work and how Jason would have been perfect if she’d been able to get him under her thumb. He tried to back off when she lashed out with a magic rope insisting once she captured Jason he’d be the perfect leader to her adoring little boyfriend army.

So yeah she was more psycho than anticipated.

Spoiler and Red Robin began to swoop in for the rescue which only served to enraged her further. That’s when the team learned that she was talented in more than just potions. She used her magic to start awakening magical creatures in the park surrounding them. Nymphs shed from trees and little snow golems formed and began attacking RR and Spoiler.

Black Bat had run over to extract Jason when the witch noticed her. She shrieked in outraged proclaiming if she couldn’t have Jason no one else would and that he could become fish food for the frost creatures of Far Frozen before picking him up with a spectral vine and slamming him through the frozen lake into a swirling blue portal. Cass tried to go after him but the witch quickly engaged her with too much feral rage to realize she was outclassed in hand to hand against Black Bat. By the time Steph and Tim fought off the nymphs and golems it was too late. Whatever whirling portal had been in the lake closed and Jason was no where to be found.

As Jason pushed through the ice he had one final thought before he felt himself black out: ‘Worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

~ The first thing Jason felt when he came to was cold. He was still submerged under icy water. It was chilled him to the core but was almost soothing in a way. As if cooling of a burn. As is opened his eyes the world seemed to move in slow motion. He was still underwater surrounded by chunks of ice. He could make out sounds of distorted yelling as the world seem to get even slower.

Suddenly he felt something grab his collar and place itself under his arm. Jason was unceremoniously hoisted out of a frozen river and laid out on a river bank. He let out a harsh cough and his head got dizzy. He tried to regain his wits long enough to see who pulled him out.

It was large figure, maybe an inch or two taller than his 6 foot, with the bulk of a viking and the looks of one too. The man appeared to be around the same age as Jason, possibly older, and very concerned. He had messy white hair that was tied(or braided? Jason’s vision was still blurry) in the back. He was wearing armor made of some sort of hide leather and a dark gray metal (iron?) and covered in snow-white furs.

Jason stared at his savior trying to get his wits about him, willing his vision to clear. That’s Jason felt a warm fur cloak wrap around him as the man said something Jason wasn’t able to comprehend. He let out another harsh cough and felt himself being picked up in a princess carry. His rescuer moved incredibly fast for someone carrying a man of Jason’s stature. However, the motion did not help with the dizziness or the cold. Jason shivered, curling towards his “heroic knight” and pulling the cloak tighter around himself. This spurred the man to go faster.

Finally, everything stopped moving and Jason felt himself encompassed in warmth. Several more furs were wrapped around him and he was laid down to rest. At last Jason’s vision cleared enough to see the other man’s face properly. He had a rugged face and a strong jawline. He had a small scar near his eyebrow and round eyes with light eye bags beneath them. He had a straight nose and bow-shaped lips.

Jason felt the world slow down again and realized he’d soon pass out from the cold. The man lifted Jason’s head and slipped a pillow underneath. A rough hand gently pushed the wet hair out of his face and caressed his cheek. Jason stared into the man’s eye. They were kind, gentle, and such a vibrant green they seemed to glow. The man gave him a small smile and the last thing Jason heard before falling asleep was a soothing voice telling him “Rest, we will take care of you.” And with that Jason felt himself relax and fell asleep.

~ When Jason came to the first thing he saw was a 20-something-foot tall yeti with an icy cybernetic arm looming over the foot of his bed.

He promptly screamed and fell out of bed.

A vaguely familiar voice called out from another room.

“ FROSTBITE! I thought I told you not to scare him!”

In walked the man that had saved Jason from an icy death. Upon closer inspection now that he wasn’t dying the man seem 10 times as beautiful than Jason remembered. He almost seemed to have this ethereal glow to him. The man continued to admonish the yeti who just laughed heartily and continued on with whatever task he was trying to complete. The man turned his attention to Jason, smiling at him in apology and lifting him back into the bed.

“ I’m sorry about Frostbite. He won’t admit it but I think he gets a crack out of scaring his patients,” He said with a placating chuckle. His mirthful eyes met Jason’s puzzled ones and he continued on as he began to fiddle with few thermoses, seemingly searching for one in particular.

“ You must be quite confused. I don’t exactly know how you ended up here but this place called the Far Frozen. I felt a pulse of magic near the river and went to investigate and ended up fished you of the water. You were nearly frozen so I brought you back to village where you could get warmed up and medics like Frostbite could help you before the actual frostbite set in.”

He chuckled at his own joke before placing a cup in Jason’s hands.

“ It’s soup, drink up. It’ll help you get warm.”

Jason hesitantly took a sip of his soup. It was surprisingly good! He continued to sip his soup and Jason observed the man. He had a rather muscular build Jason noticed, staring at the man for no other reason than assessing if he’d be a potential threat (and for absolutely no other reason). Danny finished closing up his thermos and continued to speak.

“ I promise once Frostbite treats you for any illness or injury. I’ll help you get home. -Oh where are my manners” he held his hand out for Jason to shake. “You can call me Phantom.”

“ Call me Jay,” he replied, taking Phantom’s hand and a glance at his biceps. Phantom pulled away and stood up.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to resting. I’ll come back later when Frostbite gives you a check up and we can talk about how you got here and how to get you back” He turned and began to walk out before turning his head back one last time and waved. “I’ll see in a bit Jay.”

Jason watched him go and fell back into bed having finished his soup. As he pulled the furs and blankets back over himself he thought ‘Well maybe it’s not the worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

[mylordshesacactus]

The Barrissoka Fusion You Never Knew You Wanted

So in celebration of FINALLY rounding out the originally-planned slate of barrissoka Disney AU/fusion challenge fics, I thought I'd put together a masterlist for those of you who are new, returning, or just never got around to them when they were first posted!

By sheer good luck, there are an even split of AU types--three fusions (ie, Star Wars characters adapted to a non-GFFA setting), and three alternate timelines (where the core setting is the same, but events developed differently--in this case, in a way analogous to the core plot of the movie the challenge was based on.).

Fusions

Through The Darkness And The Shadows

Setting: Fantasy-Medieval AU: Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle…

It'll Sound Like A Promise

Setting: Fantasy-Medieval (Scotland Redux) AU: Brave

A clan leader’s heir had to strive for perfection. That was why Ahsoka was currently hiding in a tree.

Look To The Sky With Hope

Setting: Pirates/Fantasy Age of Sail AU: Pirates of the Caribbean (62k, 5 chapters)

Anakin Skywalker. Every sailor knows that name. Captain of the ghost ship Twilight, ferryman of the dead. Some say he preys on merchantmen, out of vengeance for the loss of his ship and crew; others that he and the charred black phantom are an honest sailor's friend, a protector in the dark and the mist. According to Ahsoka, the truth is both and neither. But the Twilight is...well, it's not real. Barriss Offee may be new to this whole pirate thing, but she knows that. It's a legend, a story, a sailor's superstition; like mermaids and Fridays and the Kraken. The ship of the dead and its captain, they're just a myth. Aren't they?

Alternate Universes

Going My Way?

AU: Aristocats Podfic: By Writers_Block, available here.

Shipwrecked and stranded on a remote agricultural planet, Barriss Offee doesn't dare reveal her identity as a Jedi for fear of drawing unwanted attention that might endanger the younglings in her care. Enter the charming, compassionate young spacer Ashla, who drops everything to take the group under her protection and asks nothing in return, as Barriss grows more and more unhappy with the necessity of lying to a young woman who's been nothing but honest with them. Meanwhile, Ahsoka Tano and her master are on an undercover mission. She really wishes she could tell the scared young mother she's taken in that she's a Jedi, but, well. The mission has to come first.

Back To The Wind

AU: Cars. (I cannot emphasize enough that this is an AU and not a fusion. They are not cars. They are people. For the love of god. It's just a plot adaptation. Please stop asking me if they're supposed to be cars.)

A hyperdrive malfunction strands Ahsoka in a nearly-abandoned trading settlement in the Outer Rim. That's not the problem. While she works off her community service sentence, she ends up in the unofficial custody of a weirdly hostile Mirialan who won't stop giving her these long, searching looks and talking about the failures of the Jedi Order like she knows something Ahsoka doesn't. That's not the problem either. The problem is...Ahsoka's starting to wonder if she really wants to go back.

When These Moments Have Passed

AU: The Fox and the Hound

Jedi Master Plo Koon was sent to Shili to retrieve a Force-sensitive youngling...and arrived just a few hours too late. Years later, a Jedi padawan and an indentured bounty hunter find themselves in the same spaceport. They shouldn't be friends, not really, but...they're more alike than they are different, straining under the weight of roles they can't escape. That bond is stronger than the galaxy's expectations. Until it isn't.

Bonus

While these are NOT part of the very specific "I can turn any classic Disney movie into a barrissoka AU, fucking try me" original challenge that spawned all this, they're some very nice AUs and if you're into AUs in general, you'll probably appreciate:

Iced Offee, Caramel Twist

AU: Coffeeshop AU

(What? Someone had to write it.)

Mirror, Mirror

AU: Sith AU

(Series/Duology)

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Vampire Hypnosis

Warnings: alcohol, getting drunk, depression, mentions/threat of blood drinking, intimate vampire whumper, hypnosis/mind control, kidnapping of a human

I got a few requests from several Anons to write a vampire with hypnosis powers, so I finally got around to it! (Thank you anons that suggested it -- hope you like this one!)

Author's note: this is a standalone short story -- I probably won't continue it at all (although I'm open to being convinced otherwise if anyone has good plot ideas)

I wrote this before I had the concussion symptoms and just hadn't posted it yet.

It was late at the bar. Really late. As in, past midnight kind of late. Tom was the only one left in the entire bar aside from one woman and the bartender himself. He had been drinking his worries away, miserably reflecting on the sad state of his life. Fired from his job, in heavy debt and single as ever. He knew wasting money on alcohol would only worsen his financial situation, but... he couldn't stop. He just needed to forget everything for a while.

His gaze drifted over again to the woman a few seats away from him. She was pale-skinned but gorgeous, with fiery orange hair and copper eyes, and with a sharp, distinguished jawline. Maybe he could make a friend for once, or at least try his luck at making a new social connection to possibly benefit himself later on. So, recklessly, he ordered another drink and got out of his chair, walking over to hand it to her. More money down the drain.

"May I spoil the lady?" He teased as he approached, offering it in a hand.

The woman turned to him with a charming smile, eyes sharp and assessing as they swept his appearance, a strange expression darting briefly across her features before it was gone.

"My, what a polite young gentleman you are!" She chuckled, tilting her head down seductively. Her voice was smooth and melodic and velvety and pleasant to hear. "And what might your name be?"

"Tom," he answered, smiling welcomingly. "And yours?"

The woman paused for a second, oddly, before answering. "It's Alice. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. She reached for the drink he was offering, and their hands briefly brushed -- resulting in Alice flinching slightly with a quiet hiss, recoiling and almost dropping the beverage.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked worriedly. "I--" his eyes flicked to her hand, and his blood went cold as ice, his heart plummeting all the way to his feet. Because there, on the side of her finger, was a small burn.

Tom was wearing a silver ring. And he knew of only one creature that could be burned by silver.

"You... You're..." his voice caught in his throat, a sudden rush of fear washing over him. He couldn't get the words out, but the word came to him like a flare in the darkness. Vampire.

He instinctively took a step back. Then another. Forget making a new friend, he needed to escape.

He'd heard a lot about vampires in the past, many rumors and myths about how his town had its own population of bloodsuckers lurking in the darkness. And the rumors aligned with the murders that occasionally happened, the victims drained of blood. All the evidence pointed to them being real, and now Tom was staring right at one.

"I'm sorry miss, I didn't realize how late it was," Tom said shakily, glancing at his watch. It was three in the morning, so his excuse seemed valid enough. "I'd love to stay and talk, but I must be getting home now." He got ready to bolt.

The woman watched him, eyes glittering with -- amusement? She took a sip of the drink he'd bought for her, before setting it down on the counter. "I'm sure you can stay for awhile," she said smoothly. "You can't hand a girl a drink without getting to know her. It's considered rude, you know?"

Anxious sweat beaded on Tom's brow, and his hands started shaking. "That was before I realized how late it was." He took another step back. He was almost close enough to the door now to make his escape. He glanced behind him to check the distance, before his gaze flicked back to meet Alice's, and his mind suddenly went fuzzy.

"Don't run," Alice whispered, but her voice sounded like it was right in his ears, like she was standing right next to him instead of on a chair at the bar counter. "Come and have a seat. Let's talk."

Tom shivered, something strange brushing against his mind, latching onto his thoughts. He was moving before he even realized it, walking robotically toward Alice and settling down in the chair next to hers. Not good. Once his brain caught up he panicked, lurching back out of the chair to run away.

"Ah-ah!" I didn't say you could leave," Alice rumbled, eyes focused and intense. "Stay."

And to Tom's horror, his body listened, freezing in place before dragging him back to the chair again, as if an unseen force was controlling his movements. He squirmed and fought against invisible restraints locking all his muscles up, holding him in place. The effort was fruitless.

Alice merely looked amused, gaze sweeping over him, slow and appreciating. "Sorry if I scared you, sometimes I make mistakes that give me away," she chuckled darkly. "But I meant what I said earlier -- it's terribly rude to give a gal a drink and bail right after. Even if that gal is... someone like me." her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper at the end, confirming Tom's awful suspicion.

The hair on his arms bristled with fear, a shiver of dread racing down his spine. No. This couldn't be happening. Maybe he'd had one too many drinks and was imagining this. Maybe he'd wake up and it would all be an awful dream.

"I've made a horrible mistake," he rasped shakily.

"Yes, you did," Alice agreed sweetly. "Happens to the best of us. Don't be too hard on yourself."

Claws caressed Tom's mind, a deadly danger he became viscerally aware of. Something that manipulated his desires, influenced his entire being on a deeper level. He was walking on very thin ice.

"What do you want with me?" He breathed, fighting to stay calm.

Alice tapped the counter with her fingers thoughtfully. "Companionship, I suppose," she answered vaguely. "I'm lonely, and bored, same as you were when you bought me a drink. That's why you approached me, was it not? In hopes of starting a conversation, interact with another life form to pass time and distract yourself from mental turmoil?"

Tom's throat was dry and scratchy. How could she know?

Alice chuckled knowingly at the stunned look on his face. "I used to do the same when I was human. It was a way to escape mortal dilemmas, just for a night, by talking to someone. One thing we have in common, it seems."

And the ONLY thing, Tom thought with a shudder.

"So what do you plan to do with me now that I'm at your mercy?" He cautiously ventured, digging for any hints as to her intentions.

Alice ever-so-slowly tilted her head to the side like a predator zeroing in on prey, a look that made Tom's skin crawl. "You know, I haven't fully decided yet..." She gave him a devious smirk full of dark interest. "But I'm considering having a snack. I'm sure you can figure out what that would entail."

"You--you can't do this!" Tom blurted indignantly, a sudden burst of anger piercing through the fear.

"I can't? You dare tell me what I can and cannot do?!" She scoffed, lip curling. "Let me make one thing clear to you..." She leaned close, teeth bared. "I can do whatever I want to you. Kneel."

Tom instantly fell off the chair and dropped to his knees with a thud on the floor before he'd even registered it. His body wasn't his own, controlled by a higher force invading his entire being, trapping him in his own head.

"Hey! What's going on? Is everything okay?" The bartender hurried out from behind the counter, alarmed.

Alice spun to face him, and the urgency instantly left his face, his expression going blank. "Everything is fine. Go back to your work. Ignore us."

To Tom's despair, the bartender turned away and robotically headed off to resume his duties without helping, leaving him to deal with the menacing vampire all on his own.

Alice shifted her attention back to him, sliding out of her chair and standing inches away in front of him, intentionally invading his space.

Tom's breath hitched, eyes widening a hair as she knelt down to get eye level with him. He strained against the compulsion to obey, scratching desperately at the closed door keeping him chained in his own body, frantically trying to find an opening, a weak spot, anything that would allow him to break free of the vampire's hypnotic control.

But the claws gripping his conscience suddenly turned sharp, digging in and sinking into his brain, tearing a cry of pain from him.

"The more you resist, the more it will hurt," Alice cooed, licking her lips. "Be a dear and bare your neck to me, mmm?"

Tom gritted his teeth against the pain blasting his senses, desperately scrabbling for any shred of self-control. But it was useless. Slowly, in twitchy movements, his head tilted to the side against his will, exposing his vulnerable neck. He was panting with the effort of fighting it.

He groaned in frustration, utterly helpless. His heart was practically pounding out of his chest with terror, racing even faster when Alice leaned her head in to bring her mouth to his neck. His breaths came fast and shallow and ragged as she pressed a light kiss to his pulse, toying with him.

"Please... don't," Tom pleaded desperately, voice hoarse. "I promise I won't ever bother you again. Just... let me go."

"Who said you were bothering me?" Alice murmured against his skin, and Tom shuddered. "You smell... appetizing. Humans like that are hard to come by. Most are bland and boring -- average. All the good ones are usually taken by the more powerful vamps."

Tom flinched at the scrape of teeth against his neck -- no fangs, just normal teeth. So far.

"You don't have to do this," he rasped pleadingly.

"Oh but I want to," Alice purred cruelly, nipping his ear. "It's too good an offer to resist. What are the odds of stumbling upon the perfect human in a bar like this? I'd be a fool to let you go."

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tamp down the rising panic. His stomach churned with nausea, bile climbing up his throat.

Alice gave him a playful bite on the neck, not breaking skin, before pulling away entirely, leaning back. "Do you realize now how futile fighting me is? How useless it is to try and run away? I want to hear you say it. /Submit/ to me."

"Yes... I know it's useless," Tom forced out. Anything to appease her and protect himself from further harm.

"Good." Alice ruffled his hair with a hand. "Luckily for you, I'm not actually hungry right now. I just wanted to put you in your proper place, set clear boundaries and make it known how utterly futile resistance is in my presence. And while I might not be interested in feeding right now... I will be later. And I think we could have some fun in the meantime, hmm?" She snapped her fingers at him like a dog, her voice gruff and commanding as she straightened, looming over him. "Up."

Tom's body quickly obeyed, forcing him to his feet before her, stiff and rigid. His eyes were wide and frightened as Alice stared at him, the compulsion wrapping tight around his mind.

"Sleep," Alice ordered, and his head instantly fuzzed, filled with cotton.

He pushed against it, fighting to keep his eyes open. He couldn't let his guard down around her, couldn't let himself be vulnerable and exposed like that, where he wouldn't even be awake to know what she did to him.

Alice smiled softly, shaking her head in amusement. "You've got a strong will, I'll give you that much. It's actually kind of impressive. But I'm certain you won't want to be conscious to see where I'm going to take you. I'm doing you a favor, really." Her eyes narrowed, and Tom felt her influence amplify, tugging insistently at his thoughts, dragging him down... down... down...

He startled when she cupped his jaw in her hand, rubbing it with her thumb. "Shhhh, let the darkness take you," she whispered. "I'll take wonderful care of you."

Tom wobbled unsteadily, eyes glazing over -- and a second later his legs buckled under him, exhaustion sapping his strength. He was distantly aware of cold arms wrapping around him, catching him and keeping him from hitting the floor, before his mind dissolved into empty nothingness. And he knew no more.

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

@floral-comet-whump @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

[ivyrosewater]

Here's a preview of all of my upcoming works! I'm doing my best to work on them but it's definitely a slow process! 🫶🫶

QH43 -- Can I Get Your Number?: When the Hughes Bowl rolls around, otherwise known as the Canucks vs. Devils game, you obviously have to come and support your boyfriend. The only problem is, no one knows you two are together, and all Quinn’s given you to help is his jersey.

JH86 -- Teach Me?: As Jack’s new girlfriend, all he wants to do is show you off. You’ve been on a few dates before, but your first real opportunity to present it to the public is at the family skate. But. the thing is, you don’t quite know how to skate even the slightest bit.

LH43 -- I Hate Horror Movies: On a cozy night in on one of Luke’s off days, you decide on a movie date night. You both decide to surprise each other with your movie choices, and you decide on a horror movie, not knowing how much Luke hates them.

SJ24 -- One Beautiful Mistake: You and Seth have been dating for over a year, everything going in the right direction, even moving in together already. But one day, you find out you’re pregnant, and you just don’t know how to tell him.

NH13 -- Under Wraps: Keeping a relationship hidden from the media is one thing. Hiding one from your nosy and protective brothers was even harder, especially one involving the younger two’s team captain, the one and only Nico Hischier.

CM8 -- Behind the Scenes: a Hockey Boyfriend: When you first start dating a hockey player, there’s much to learn. One of the most important is learning all about hockey, especially when your boyfriend is the one and only Cale Makar, and when you are completely lost when it comes to all things hockey.

WJ53 -- Home is Where the Heart Is: You and Wyatt have been together as long as he’s been playing in the NHL, having gotten together senior year of high school in Ontario. Long distance has been a struggle, to say the least, but you do your best to show up to a few games here and there with your busy college schedule. After a contract is signed to keep Wyatt on the Stars, you decide to surprise him by moving to Dallas too.

LD29 -- Take Me Into Your Loving Arms: Leon has always tended to be hard on himself, especially during losses. When his team makes it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals, only to lose it all in the end, he’s distraught. Thankfully, he has you waiting at home for him just a flight away, more than ready to comfort him through it all.

CB98 -- Meet Me in Chicago: Connor knew you were special from the day he met you, all the way back in middle school. He had the biggest crush on you for years and years, but he never had the courage to ask you out, missing out on his opportunity when hockey took over his life. When he got drafted by Chicago, the last thing he expected was for you to follow, but it turned out you also were going to college there. It was a sign, and now that he was in the big leagues, there was no way you could say no, right?

TZ11 -- Break the Ice: Trevor’s life has revolved around hockey for as long as he could remember. He’d been taught all his life that ice was meant to be used for hockey, not by dainty figure skaters. So what happens when a scheduling mishap makes the Ducks have to share the ice with you, an up and coming figure skater, for a week?

AS37 -- Good Luck Charm: Andrei has never believed in silly superstitions, finding them a waste of time when he had plenty of other things to worry about. That is, until you, his girlfriend of a few months, shows up unexpectedly to one of his home games, and he scores not once, not twice, but gets a hattie.

MR73 -- May Flowers: Matt, your long-time boyfriend knows your two favorite things like the back of his hand; spring and flowers. So, when his team is officially knocked out of the playoffs, it’s the perfect spring weather he needs to take you on a picnic date of your dreams in blossoming Central Park.  

LN4 -- Dumb Ways to Meet: Lando has always been a reckless and aggressive driver on the roads, everyone knew that. You, on the other hand, have been anything but, always managing to keep your cool even in the stupidity other drivers cause. The last thing you expected was to meet an F1 driver, and especially not in this situation; in a car crash.

CL16 -- Life In the Fast Lane: Charles often got frustrated with the engineers of Ferarri. Often times, the strategy didn’t make sense, and the races usually ended poorly because of it. When the new season rolls around, they have replaced his race engineer, bringing you in instead, a talented engineer that used to work for Mercedes. Things immediately start to look up, him ending up on the podium for the past few races, and all because of you. On top of it all, he can’t help but fall for you, loving to hear your voice guiding him to victory. Will he risk it all by getting with you, or will he let you drive by just as fast as the cars around him do?

MV1 -- Hey Jealousy: Max was a person that got upset easily, that much was obvious. So when he gets with you, one of the top mechanics for Ferarri, something is practically certain to go wrong. Everyone else knew you and Charles were only good friends, but in Max’s eyes it was anything but friendly, resulting in a jealous and grouchy Redbull racer.

OP81 -- All Fun and Games: You and Oscar loved to play video games together, as it was something simple you two could bond over. The only thing that you haven’t played before is his racing simulator. When you bring it up that you want to try, Oscar is only the slightest bit hesitant, but he does let you try one round on it. It certainly caught him off guard though when you ended up beating his best time on the circuit.

LH44 -- No Risk, No Reward: Lewis was always a calm and collected driver, making calculated decisions and overtakes. So, when he gets crashed into during qualifying and spins out into the barriers, you can’t help but immediately panic and worry about him the entire time until you know he’s okay.

CS55 -- How Do You Say It?: Carlos has always loved to call you countless nicknames and give you sweet messages in Spanish. The thing is, you don’t always understand them. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands and learn Spanish on your own, but it’s not nearly as good as being taught by your Spanish boyfriend.

The Grid -- The Art of Being Spoiled: the times your sugar daddy boyfriends have tried (and succeeded) in spoiling you.