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sasahuaa · 2 days ago

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Vil Schoenheit as an omega

Riddle - Leona - Azul - Kalim - Idia - Malleus

hello! i finally recovered from my sickness!! and finally finished this, changed subspace to omeganspace bc i didn’t think the previous word had the meaning that i wanted, i wrote a very soft!vil, but i hope you enjoy it!

gn!reader; sfw; warnings: none

Vil is a very desired omega, from men to women, young to old, alphas, betas and omegas utter his name with countless praises. Though he is popular and has many types of people offering their suits to him, he hardly gives them a second thought.

He is too busy with work! He justifies with the partial truth. Vil is somewhat flattered by the confessions, but subtly scrunches his nose when he feels their intentions aren't heartfelt and merely wanting him for his appearance or fame - which, in his opinion, is very common, he is alright if people think of him nicely, but he can count on his fingers who really know him.

It's also a matter of his standards; an mate with great virtue, objective driven, earnest and passionate is hard to find. But he won't ever settle for less, Vil may not have personally seen amazing relationships, yet he understands what people are capable of doing for their loved ones.

His papa works very hard and is still doting towards him, during his breaks, sometimes he reads words of support his fans write for him and he admires the thoughtful gifts he receives during fan meetings.

It's not romantic love, but still is some type of love, if only he could meet his knight in shining armor to show him what passion is like…

Courting

Vil felt he developed a kind of kinship with everyone involved in SDC, not only because everyone was focused on the same objective, but also as a senior and housewarden, he charged himself to guide the entire group to the standards he expected of them. Vil knows potential when he sees one, so he has good intentions when he pushes their limits, though many misinterpret his determination to contempt.

This kinship towards you shook from time to time, he respected how you managed the rest of the boys and your words of support were great incentives to them, you were also generous and elegant, his eyes couldn't help but linger on your form as you helped around the house and during practices, the omega admitted to himself that you were a hard worker and admirable for that.

You sure had many qualities that he approved of, but what truly moved his heart was how heroic you could be, of course he heard of you dealing with overblots before, but you coming to rescue him alongside Rook and Epel was the cherry on top for him.

Vil is not one for romance, he does not open himself up easily, much less give opportunities to others, and yet he became quite infatuated with you. He made an exception out of you, and while he never chased for a relationship before, Vil was committed to be with you.

You miss all the shots you don't take, and he lived by this motto his whole life.

This dorm leader is not ashamed to be the one to pursue, though he would also enjoy being equally pursued. It's a matter of equilibrium for him, as such, he tries to nudge for both. Vil is open about his interest, but he hopes that you would be the one to seal the deal.

And what other better way to have your attention than to use his main prize? Vil knows he is an undisputable beauty, and is not ashamed to flaunt that. He begins to wear your favorite colors, his lips are more glossy, his hair up so he can show off his neck, and when he is in the mood to be a bit more daring, he wears dresses, skirts or mini shorts and puts his long legs to use.

“What do you think?” the omega asked, twirling around himself, the dress fluttering and revealing more of his skin “I made a haul recently, if you come to my room, I can model all of my new clothes just for you”

Clothes don't have gender, he thought so since forever, if it's pretty on him then it's more than fair that he will use it. Bonus points if he can make you gawk while embellishing himself.

He loves to see you flustered, might even be his favorite hobby.

Vil also gives you a lot of things, he says he is not spoiling you, that it's because you did something that made you deserve it, though his standards for this in particular are very low. You eating healthy is already an excuse for him to give you something, be it soaps, clothes, trinkets, homemade smoothies, and mostly items from sponsorships that he does not see a use for himself. Between the gifts, there's a lot of diy stuff, but in this case he likes to do it with you. The omega would invite you to come over and make subtle matches of necklaces and bracelets.

And dates! At first he doesn't call it dates, but his intentions are obvious at what he calls “one on one meetings in which we get to know each other more intimately”. Pomefiore is decorated from top to bottom when he decides it's a good day for a date, candle light dinners and fancy food are perfectly prepared for the night, picnic dates always have the most variety of food and the gardens are trimmed to magnificence. Maybe all of this is corny, and yet he wants to enjoy all the kinds of cliches possible.

Vil knows that people like to talk about their hobbies or preferred topics, and he has dealt countless times with alphas in the past that didn't know how to shut up. Although the dorm leader really hates when people talk over him, he finds it adorable when you get excited over a thing you are passionate about, you could be talking about the cycle of life of beetles and he would stop anything he is doing to listen.

Even when it's a subject he is connoisseur of, Vil's answers keep being “Oh yeah? Tell me more”, it's not like he will pretend he doesn't know about the topic, if you have any questions he will answer, but he won't ever interrupt and will encourage you to talk to him. It very much warms his heart when you are being zealous and intense around him.

All of that just to make you fall in love with him.

He wants so bad to hear you preaching for his name.

And he hopes that one day you will talk about him as ardently as your most dearly passions.

Growling

Self-control is a sacred behavior that everyone should learn, that's what Vil believes and expects from his dorm mates. Growling, in Vil's point of view, is an animalistic form of expression, impolite even when justifiable, and as someone who prizes his own dignity he learned from a very young age to suppress his growls. Nowadays, he barely feels the need to do so, and doubts he ever will when he is in the right state of mind.

Vil scolds his underclassmen if he hears them growling, Epel could tell, as he is a frequent victim of his stern gaze. Pomefiore learned quickly to avoid Vil if they need to put out their frustrations, though very unsuccessfully most of the time, as hardly ever anything escapes the loyal hunter by Vil's side.

If he is not in his right state of mind… it's rare for things like this to happen, but if he is close to his heat and he is not using suppressants to control his hormones, you would be able to hear an almost inaudible growl when Vil reads a proposal to act in another villain role, or when Neige gets more attention than him in an add or post. It's a self-deprecation most of the times, that he deserves better, that he can be better, he will seek to be under your care when this happens, but after he turns back to normal he sees it as another obstacle he needs to surpass.

Purring

Vil is not as against purring as he is about growling, although both are expressions of intense emotion, he sees more use in purring than growling. It’s just that he doesn’t see the reason in growling and expressing his anger, disappointment and upset in a verbal and yet uncommunicative way, it’s stressing to both him and whoever hears it in his opinion. But purring is different, it brings healthy benefits for himself, his alpha and, if he ever has one, future pups.

He also knows that some celebrities use their purr as a form of attracting fans, but he is not comfortable sharing it for the world, seven knows what weirdos would be doing with this kind of audio. Vil does have exceptions though, sometimes, when little pups get lost in events he is part of, he will purr away their frustrations until their guardians find them, but he makes sure that there are no cameras or audio recorders close by.

When he is with you, if you are being especially nice he will reward you with purrs, a good job deserves a exquisite prize after all. But honestly, his concept of “being nice” for him is really simple, taking care of yourself? Purr. Going out of your way to please him? Purr. Finishing your assignments so you have more time for him? Epel got jumpscared by the loud sound.

Nesting

Vil maintains a very neat nest, he changes the blankets, sheets and pillowcases each three days, he color codes and also separates by texture. Anytime he uses his nest he tidies it before he leaves, just like his appearance, not a single rumple is supposed to be seen in his safe haven.

As for the people he permits to go in it, not a single person besides himself and his mate are even allowed to see his nest. It's a very intimate endeavor for him, he can understand that some omegas are more catering towards pups and such, like Kalim and his communal nest, but he simply can't fathom the thought of also doing so.

It's not like anyone else was worthy enough anyway.

Months go by into your relationship before he invites you to his nest, he wants to make sure you are the right person before he does. Though he much prefers doing his daily skincare routine on his vanity, he also adores to make you sit on his nest, pull you to him until your back hits his chest and apply creams to your face, sometimes just sweep the brush on your face without any product, a gentle and slow movement in caress while he kisses softly the top of your head.

In all, he doesn't spend too much time in his nest, he chooses to do so when he feels particularly vulnerable or wants a deeply romantic time.

Marking

Vil likes to take one step at a time, because of that, it would take a while for him to properly mark you. He sees it as a matter of protection and privacy, it's not a secret that fans can be quite overprotective over their idols, and he fears that you would be an easy target, being someone from another world and, therefore, vulnerable.

At first, he would make essential oils, lotions and perfumes of his scent and gift to you, it's a disguisable form of marking and can be deferred as simply your choice of favorite smell and barely conclude that it's related to him, as these kinds of aromas have a superficial fragrance. It's enough for Vil though, at least in that moment of your relationship, enough for his omega purr in possession and chant that you are his, his, his!

Eventually Vil gets greedy, and lipstick marks blossom onto your skin. It's unseen in the start, hidden under your sleeves or collar, subsequently becoming more visible, until a visible kiss mark is placed on your cheek.

When he feels his public is ready or that he can't wait for the next step of your relationship, Vil would be more than honoured to receive and give a bite mark.

Omeganspace

He is not one to indulge very often, and this includes his omega instincts. It feels good when it happens, of course, but he gets quite uncomfortable later on, to be so vulnerable and out of control, he feels the possibility of falling out of perfection anytime he enters his omeganspace.

It would take a lot of trust in you for him to permit himself to strip off his senses. But when he does, he is quite talkative. Naturally, Vil likes to show off, and in situations like this he is no different, stretching out his body and whining for attention.

And if he is demanding being his normal self, he is hundreds times worse in this state, you won't get away from his line of vision, and he won't permit you to stray your gaze, cupping your face and snarling in warning if he sees your eyes tremble.

But, as always, even if his mind is filled with cotton, he promises to make it worth your while, you just need to cherish him, treat him as the queen he is, and Vil will deliver the greatest rewards for his knight.

☽ ☼ ☾

“Thank you for coming today, prefect.” Vil opened the door for you, his slender fingers circled around your wrist, subtly pressing his fingertips on your scent gland, he pulls you into his dorm “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

“It's no problem, what do you ne-” you swallow your words, and Vil feels chills coming up his spine.

You look at him, truly look at him, his skin ignites everywhere your gaze lands upon. For a brief moment, he feels too exposed, thinking that the miniskirt he chose for the day was way too short, but an undeniable thrill began to blossom in his stomach. This is what he wanted all along, for your attention to belong for him alone.

“You look stunning” you settled to look into his eyes, and Vil's heart filled with indescribable warmth, he returned a soft smile.

“As always. You don't look bad yourself” yet, your eyes remained averted from his body, and despite the frustration he felt into the very pit of his soul, he rested easily knowing that your focus was still on him.

The longer he spent with you, nudging the corners of your mind to learn more about you, he came to an understanding that you were afraid of crossing his boundaries and making him uncomfortable. Adorable that you believe it would be disrespectful to admire him, even, but it’s quite bothersome when he dressed with intent.

It's no matter, soon you would come around your behaviour, and it would be impossible for you to notice anything else but him, Vil was sure of that.

Vil pointed to a pile of cushions, rushing you to sit on it. He rounded the room, stopping at his desk and taking many lipsticks with him, then he walked to your side, comfying himself on another pillow.

“I am testing new formulas for my make-up, though I am still uncertain which one is the best,” he started, uncapping the first lipstick “can you help me decide?”

“Mn” but as soon as you went to take one of the lipsticks, he swatted your hand away.

“Transfer proof,” Vil played with the cap between his fingers, coloring his lips with deep red “is the characteristic I am looking for.”

“I don't understand how I can help with that.”

“Stay still,” the omega got closer to you, his scent containing a hint of excitement “you will be the perfect test subject” and then, his lips touched yours.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #omega!vil #alpha!reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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bapeach · 3 days ago

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Stuttering heart

Another Azzi fic! I just feel like she'd be the sweetest girl ever. Hope you all enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Azzi Fudd x female!reader Word count: 6.2k+ Warnings: Cursing, stuttering Summary: In which your voice isn't the only thing that stutters, but your heart as well. ------------

UConn was the place to be if you wanted to be someone in the world. To some people, at least. You were one of them. You’ve wanted to go to UConn since you were 11 years old, and now, 7 years later, you’re living the dream.

Okay, maybe living the dream was a slight overexaggeration that you told your parents to make them stop worrying about you. But you were happy. You were studying something you actually cared about and weren’t struggling all that much. So what if you didn’t live the typical college student life, going to parties every week? You’d much rather curl up in bed with a good book and some great music. And so what if you didn’t have any friends? You didn’t need anyone. You’d gone through your life alone for most of it anyway.

Whenever your parents asked, however, you always lied about how much fun you were having with your new besties. You just didn’t want them worrying about you when you were miles from home. You also didn’t want to hear your mom nag about how you need to go out more and actually talk to people. You’d tried that when you were younger, but it just didn’t work.

The whole making friends thing wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t suffer from social anxiety and didn’t also have a speech impediment. You’ve had a pretty bad stutter your entire life, which always gets worse when you’re nervous. And so nerves make the stutter worse, which makes the nerves worse, which means you get stuck in a vicious cycle. Always being left a stammering mess at the slightest inconvenience.

It was really bad when you were still young. The kids in your school constantly bullied you for being different. They’d always mock you and tease you but pretend to be nice kids when the teachers were around. It took you a while to tell your parents about the abuse you suffered in school, but when you finally did, they let you stay home. So you were homeschooled for most of your life. Your parents couldn’t exactly give you a whole college degree at home, though. So now you were at UConn!

Thankfully, you’re mainly surrounded by mature adults now, so the bullying was over. That sadly didn’t mean that they understood, though. Most people don’t really have the patience to listen to someone when they can barely say 2 words without a stutter coming through. You can see it in their eyes, the way they dart around the room, looking for an escape. Or you can tell by the way they try to help by finishing your sentences for you. You suppose it’s nice of them to try to help, but in reality, it’s just annoying. It completely throws you off, making you forget what you’re trying to say. Or it just makes you feel like an inconvenience.

So yeah, you didn’t really try to socialize with the students around you. You’d accepted your lonely life a long time ago and had made your peace with it. You never raised your hand in class, emailing the professor when you had any questions. You avoided group projects, opting to do all the work alone over having to deal with the anxiety of talking to your peers. So, maybe it wasn’t the best life you were living, but you tried to make the most out of it.

-----

You’re making your way out of the library when you first bump into her. You’d planned on getting some studying done in a quiet corner, surrounded by the smell of books, but the universe had other plans. Or, well, all the other students with the same idea did. The library is filled to the brim with people, so you’ll have to make do with studying in a coffee shop nearby.

You grip your books a little tighter as you walk, eyes trained on the floor. You don’t notice the athlete making her way towards you until you crash into her. You fall down, dropping your textbooks along with the articles you’d planned to read. You quickly get up into a crouch as you start collecting your stuff, as well as the papers from the person you’d run into. “S-s-s-s-orry,” you mutter, still not looking up as your face turns red with embarrassment from both running into someone and your stammered apology. A hand enters your view as the person helps you grab everything.

“Don’t worry about it,” you hear a female voice say. You finally glance up and freeze for a moment. The angelic voice belonged to an actual angel. Your heart skips a few beats as you feel your mouth drop open a little. The girl in front of you might just be the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. Even though she’s crouched down, you can tell she’s tall and athletic. She has big, beautiful eyes that twinkle in the light. Her soft-looking lips are curved into a sweet smile. A smile that reaches her eyes and can melt the heart of anyone.

Once you’ve both grabbed everything, the brunette stands up, one hand holding some books as the other is stretched out towards you, ready to pull you up. You accept her hand as you stand up. Her hand feels both soft and rough at the same time. You smile awkwardly at her as she looks at the items she’s holding, trying to figure out which ones are hers and which ones are yours. You stare at her a moment longer before looking through your own pile.

“Oh my God, you also have Mr. Davis? Is he also such an assh- I mean, is he also super strict in your class?” She asks, a small grin forming on her face at her slip up. She tilts her head a little as she waits for an answer. You swallow harshly, hoping you won’t completely embarrass yourself in front of the goddess standing before you. “Yeah, he’s p-p-p-pretty s-s-s-strict,” you mutter, clenching your jaw in annoyance at the stammer. You prepare for the inevitable. The classic “Why are you stuttering? Are you nervous?” or maybe the typical awkward smile as people try to get away from having a conversation with you.

You’re surprised to see and hear none of that. Instead, the girl’s smile softens just a bit, her eyes still looking into yours. “I have an assignment of his due tomorrow, and I honestly have no clue what I’m doing. He’s also too much of a jerk to give people an extension, so I’m screwed,” she huffs as her lips form into a pout. She straightens up a bit, her smile returning. “I’m so sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself! I’m Azzi,” she grins, stretching out her hand to shake yours. You hesitantly shake it as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m Y/N,” you reply, exhaling a sigh of relief when you don’t stutter.

You’re about to hand Azzi her papers when you see the assignment she was talking about. It was the same one you’d finished working on yesterday, and it was definitely not an easy one. Before you can overthink it, you start speaking. “I can help you if you w-w-want?”

The brunette’s smile becomes even wider. “Really? You’d do that?” You can already feel regret bubbling up in your chest as you realize you’ll have to talk a lot if you want to help her. You almost back out, but you can’t. Not when Azzi is looking at you with those wide, hopeful eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum as you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you so much! Are you free right now?” she asks as she taps her fingers against the spine of the book she’s holding. You open your mouth to reply, but shut it again, instead choosing to simply nod. “Alright, let’s go,” she grins. She starts making her way to the library when you gently grab her arm to stop her. “The library is f-f-full. Wanna go to a c-c-coffee sh-sh-shop?” You ask, nervously scratching your arm.

“Sure! Have you been to the one that only just opened? I swear their coffee is the best I've ever had,” she claims, leading the way. You shake your head as you follow her. The whole way to the café, Azzi talks about everything and nothing. From Mr. Davis’ class to her upcoming basketball game (You knew it, there was no way she wasn’t an athlete!).

You listen to her voice, nodding and shaking your head at the right times. You reply when she has questions, but you try to avoid talking when you can. Whenever you do speak, however, your heart swells a little. Not once does the brunette try to hurry you up or talk over you. She patiently waits for you, the smile on her face never leaving.

When you reach the shop, the athlete tells you she’ll order the drinks as you go find a seat. You give her your order with a small smile before finding a table. Once Azzi has the drinks, she hands you yours and plops down with a smile. You grab your wallet to pay her back, but she holds up her hand to stop you. “No, no, it’s okay! Consider this payment for your help.”

You start shaking your head, ready to tell her she doesn’t have to pay you for that. You don’t get the chance to, however, as Azzi gives you a playful glare. You sag your shoulders with a huff, but a smile makes its way onto your face as you hear the brunette giggle.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” she says, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You give her a firm nod as you crack your knuckles. You spend the next 45 minutes explaining the assignment, giving examples, and showing her a step-by-step on how to solve the issue. Once she finally understands, she makes the task before looking at you for approval. You quickly scan the page as a bright smile makes its way to your face. You show her 2 thumbs up as she cheers, leaning back in her seat with relief.

You can’t believe you’d just spend almost an hour with someone who wasn’t a family member, and you didn’t even feel bad once. Every time you got stuck on a word, the brunette would just calmly wait for you to continue. She’d look at you with kind eyes and a relaxed posture, never once getting annoyed or losing her patience.

It’s silly how you haven’t even known Azzi for a day, but you already feel so safe in her company. Is this what it was like to have a friend? You feel a pit grow in your stomach as you realize you’ll both go your own ways again soon and probably won’t ever talk again. Because sure, Azzi didn’t mind spending some time with you, but it’s not like she’d want to be your friend and deal with you all the time, right?

You get shaken out of your thoughts as the athlete speaks again. “How about we exchange numbers? You seem like a cool person to hang out with outside of school stuff,” she says, her pearly whites on display. You stare at her in shock for a moment. It feels like you somehow ended up in a movie. The pretty and popular jock befriending the shy, nerdy girl.

“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t wanna! No pressure!” She continues as you don’t reply. “N-n-no! That’d be n-n-n-n-,” you sigh in frustration as you clench your fist. “Jesus Christ, can I please just speak like a normal person for once?” You think to yourself. A warm hand lands on your clenched one. You look into Azzi’s eyes as she sends you an encouraging nod.

“Exchanging n-n-numbers would be n-nice,” you stammer, but you don’t break eye contact. The athlete grins as she grabs her phone and hands it to you. You try to suppress the disappointment that goes through you when Azzi takes her hand off of yours. You give her your own phone before quickly adding yourself as a new contact in hers. A tiny grin curls on your lips as you see hers. “Azzi 🏀👸🩷”

“I need to head off. ‘ve got practice soon, but we’ll talk, yeah?” The basketball player states as she starts getting up. You follow her lead, planning on leaving your own schoolwork for some other time. You think you deserve some time to relax after how well you’d done this afternoon. “Okay, good luck at p-p-practice,” you mumble with a grin. She sends one of her own in return, as well as a playful wink, before leaving. For a minute you stand still in the quiet coffee shop, your chest warm but light.

The smile on your face doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

You don’t hear from Azzi the next day, but you don’t mind. (Really, you didn’t. You just kept checking your phone to uh… see if your mom had any updates on her newest plants! Or maybe your dad needed some help with his e-mails again!). Maybe it would’ve been too good to be true. What are the chances an angel like her would want to befriend you?

The following day, you don’t expect anything, either. You figure Azzi just wanted to be polite and didn’t actually want to hang out again. You’re in the middle of writing a boring essay when your phone buzzes. You know you shouldn’t look, being well aware that you’ll get distracted and push aside your work. But what if you’d gotten an important message? You eye your phone for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and grabbing it. Your breath catches in your throat as you see it’s from your… friend? Acquaintance? From Azzi.

She sent a picture of her assignment with a few happy faces. The assignment has a big red A marked on the corner. Your heart fills with happiness at the fact that she let you know she did well. You quickly send a reply congratulating her, your homework completely forgotten.

Azzi immediately sees the message and starts typing. You quickly close out of the messages as you bite your nail nervously. When your phone buzzes once more, you look at the text through your notification bar, too anxious to let her know you’re reading it.

“Do you have any classes left today?” The message reads. You open the app again as you reply, “Nope, what about you?” You press send before throwing your phone on the bed next to you as you get up and pace around. You were glad the brunette was texting you, but at the same time, it made your anxiety skyrocket.

Buzz buzz

“I’m free for the rest of the day” “Wanna get lunch together to celebrate? My treat, as a thanks”

Your cheeks blaze a bright red at the invitation. You quickly start replying. “Lunch sounds nice :) Also you really don’t have to do that! You already paid for my coffee!!” You bite your lip anxiously, scared you’re coming on too strong with the exclamation marks. “That was a thank you for explaining the assignment, this is a thank you for getting me an A 😁” You shake your head in amusement. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?”

A giggle escapes your mouth as you see her react with a 😛. Your smile drops when you read her next message. “Text me your dorm number, I’ll come pick you up” You freeze for a moment, realizing you’re about to hang out with a pretty girl for the second time this week, and this time, you had time to prepare. Sure, it wasn’t a lot of time, but enough to make you panic about how you can fix your appearance quickly to somewhat look okay.

You text her your room number before getting up and running to your closet. You stumble out of your pajama pants while simultaneously trying to take off your coffee-stained shirt. You hurriedly put together an outfit that looks nice but doesn’t make it seem like you’re trying too hard. After a lot of tumbling and cursing, you finally finish getting dressed. You spin around your room a few times trying to locate your hairbrush while also attempting to put on your shoes.

Once you’re happy with your appearance, you sit down on your bed and take a deep breath. “Chill before you give yourself a panic attack,” you think to yourself. Once you’ve calmed down a bit, you walk over to your desk and grab everything you’ll need later. You take one last look around your room, making sure you’ve not forgotten anything, when you hear a knock on your door. You wipe your sweaty hands on your pants before making your way towards the door.

“Hi,” Azzi says with a beaming smile. “Hi,” you grin back. You lock your door behind you before making your way down the hall with the athlete beside you. “I honestly still can’t believe I got an A on that assignment. I didn’t even know Mr. Davis gave people A’s.” Azzi starts the conversation.

“Yeah, he r-r-rarely gives out A’s, and f-f-f-for some r-r-r-reason h-h-h-e,” you huff in annoyance with how much you’re struggling to speak right now. You shake your head a little, letting the brunette know she can ignore you. You feel a familiar heat crawl up your face.

You knew this would happen. You were hanging out with someone you barely know, who is extremely pretty, and who is definitely way too cool to be your friend. It’s a surprise you’ve been able to say some words without stuttering, with the nerves you’re feeling.

“He what?” Azzi asks, looking at you with wide eyes, her head slightly tilted with interest. Your blush burns even brighter, but this time it’s not from embarrassment but rather the adoration you have for the taller girl. “H-he seems to h-h-h-,” you clear your throat, taking a quick glance at Azzi. She still has that easy, calming smile on her face as she listens to you. “hate to give p-p-people an A… Which d-d-doesn’t make sense, because he’s a t-t-teacher, so he should be happy that his s-s-s-students score well.”

You’re surprised with yourself. You try to avoid talking as much as you can, but with Azzi it’s different. She listens to you. Really listens to you. It makes you actually want to have proper conversations with her. Because she’s the only person outside of your family and speech therapist that doesn’t seem to judge you.

Azzi chuckles as she nods her head. “Yeah, it makes no sense at all. I hate teachers like that! Why become a professor if you’re gonna hate your job and students?” You send her a grin before looking away. You continue to listen to the athlete ramble about the professors she loves and hates, adding your own opinions as well.

You spend hours with the girl. The lunch “date” spilling over into a walk around campus as you both enjoy each other’s company. You make sure to have a pit stop for ice cream, giving the employee your card before Azzi has the chance to pay again. When hours have passed, and the skies have become a mix of oranges, pinks, and purples, you finally decide to call it a day.

The brunette walks you back to your dorm before wishing you a goodnight with the promise of another hangout soon. You give her a tiny salute, regretting it immediately when you realize what you’re doing. Your regret melts away the second you hear Azzi’s sweet laugh, her eyes crinkling as she smiles widely. She shakes her head in amusement and adoration as she gives you a salute back before leaving.

Not long after she’s gone, you get a message saying she made it to her dorm safely. You heart the message before getting ready for bed. Your chest feels warm with giddiness as you crawl underneath your blanket. Once you finally fall asleep, you dream of a beautiful, tall girl holding your hand as you walk on the beach, without a worry in the world.

The following weeks, you and Azzi text every day. You give each other updates on how classes are going, talk about your families, and laugh at each other’s silly stories. You even arrange some more hangouts. You’ve already made plans to meet up at the library to study together, the coffee shop to give life updates, and even your dorm for movie nights.

Your heart feels light when your parents ring you for their scheduled video call. You tell them about the new friend you’ve made and how much you’ve been enjoying university lately. Your chest is free from the familiar ache, as you don’t have to lie to them for once. You’re in the middle of recounting your latest adventure with the tall girl when your phone buzzes. You pause your story for a moment, glancing at the message. “Is that her?” Your mom interrogates you with a tiny smirk. You roll your eyes at her, but you can’t hide the smile that’s growing on your face.

“Mhm,” you hum. “She wants to h-hang out later,” you reply as your eyes linger on your phone. “We’ll let you go then, sweetie,” your dad says with an affectionate wink. You’re glad they don’t tease you any longer, saying their goodbyes. The second your laptop screen goes dark, you snatch up your phone, typing a reply. “Sounds good!”

“Great! Would you mind if my team also comes over? They wanna meet you” Azzi replies. You feel a pit form in your stomach but feel a bit calmed when you see the next message come in. “You can totally say no! No pressure :)” You feel your heart swell two sizes as you read the comforting words. The brunette always made sure you were comfortable, never making you do anything you weren’t into. She always picked up on your anxiety the second you started feeling nervous. She’d even googled all the ways you can help someone out of a panic attack after learning you struggled with them sometimes.

Azzi is your first ever friend, and you’re extremely grateful to have her in your life. You hope you two will stay friends for a long time, which is why you hate yourself for falling for her. She can never find out. She’d probably finally realize that being your friend wasn’t a good idea, and then you’d be all alone again.

You don’t realize you’ve zoned out until your phone buzzes again. “Y/N seriously, don’t worry about it! I can see you’ve read my messages and I know you’re probably freaking out but you don’t have to, I’ll tell them now isn’t a great time :))”

You immediately start typing back. “No no! I’d love to meet them too! When should I come over?” Azzi was right, of course, you were freaking out, but that didn’t mean you were going to let her cancel on her friends for you. Besides, you really did want to get to know the girls from Azzi’s stories. If they were as great as the brunette says they are, you had nothing to worry about. You’d also seen the team pass by on your TikTok plenty of times to know they were some of the funniest people you’ll ever meet.

“I’m just chilling rn, so whenever you’re free you can come over :) the girls won’t be here for another 2h so we can relax a little before then if you want? :D” You let her know you’ll be at her dorm in 10 minutes, not even letting yourself rethink anything. You quickly get ready, giving yourself a brief glance in the mirror before leaving.

When you knock on the athlete’s door, it opens almost immediately. Your heart skips a beat as you see Azzi’s dazzling smile. “Hey! Come in, come in!” She beams. You grin as you follow her to her room. She plops down on her bed, patting it to invite you in. She grabs her laptop, putting on a show you two had started a while ago but never really cared for that much. The taller girl knew you liked having something as background noise as you talked, so all the focus and pressure wouldn’t be on you.

You’re in the middle of a story when you see Azzi’s expression shift. She’d been looking at you with wide, interested eyes and a tiny smile as she listened, but now her eyes look softer. You can almost see a hint of… adoration? In her eyes. Her smile looks more real too. “W-what?” You stutter as your ears start burning.

The brunette shakes her head softly before saying, “I just… I’ve noticed you’ve started stuttering less when you’re with me.” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, but you hear it perfectly fine with how close you two are sitting. You look down, trying to not let her see the blush on your face, but you know there’s no way she could miss it.

“Y-yeah, I guess I’ve just b-b-become more comfortable around you,” you mutter back before looking her in the eyes. You see Azzi’s own cheeks change into a different shade. As she opens her mouth to reply, a knock can be heard on the door. You both jump in surprise before the athlete gets up to go open the door.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you’re not fully sure why that is. Is it because the team had arrived? Or is it because you only just noticed how close you and Azzi were sitting when you’d jumped apart?

You take a sip of water, trying to calm your nerves. As you’re putting the bottle down, KK and Paige bounce into the room. Azzi is quick to follow, settling back down beside you and sliding her hand over yours below the blanket. A few seconds later, the other girls walk in, but you’re too overwhelmed by Paige and KK to notice. You look like a startled deer as they excitedly introduce themselves, pushing their hands towards you to shake them. Azzi doesn’t hesitate to slap their hands away with an amused grin as she shakes her head. “Can you guys please be normal for once?” She asks, sending you a smile when she hears you chuckle at her friends’ chaos.

The excited girls pout as the rest of the team introduces themselves as well. You can already feel the nerves melt away by just being near them. They just have this aura that makes you feel comfortable. Once everyone is done, you introduce yourself as well. “H-h-hey, I’m-m Y/N, it’s nice to m-m-m-meet you guys.”

You see KK’s eyes widen a little at your stutter before she looks over at Paige. The blonde immediately gives her a little push with a quick shake of her head. They’re subtle enough that no one else notices, but you’d grown up watching the people around you and blending in, so it wasn’t a surprise you’d caught their interaction. You send Paige a thankful smile, sending KK a grin as well to let her know you aren’t upset. You’re used to people giving you looks when they hear you stammer. You also know that the team didn’t mean anything bad by it, they probably just didn’t expect it.

The girls all find a spot to settle down in, some on the floor, some on the beanbag in the corner of the room, while KK sits on Azzi’s desk chair, spinning it in circles. As you all hang out, your smile never leaves your face. Have you ever laughed this much before? If you weren’t chuckling at Paige’s sass, you were laughing at KK’s dramatics. During the rare moments when they shut up, Nika’s voice fills the air as she teases the younger girls. The constant murmur of voices makes you feel a type of comfort you’ve never felt before.

Right now, you’re listening to a funny story Paige is telling as KK and Ice squabble in their corner of the room. You feel lighter than air with the relief of feeling like you finally fit in. Thankfully, Azzi is there to ground you. Somehow, you two have ended up fully leaning against each other, the brunette’s arm around your waist. You don’t know how you got here, but you weren’t complaining.

You can feel yourself becoming a bright shade of red as Paige glances at Azzi’s hand on your hip before looking up at you and wiggling her eyebrows. You look down as you try to hide your blush and the smile that can’t seem to leave your face. Feeling the brunette squeeze your side, you look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She mouths the words, “Are you okay?” making sure you’re doing alright without alerting the others. You stare at her lips a moment longer than you should before sending her a tight-lipped smile and a nod.

You quickly look back at Paige, checking to see if she’d noticed the whole interaction. The blue-eyed girl is already facing you with a smug look. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out playfully, feeling a bit surprised at how at ease you feel, even after getting teased.

When the skies become a dark shade of gray, the team slowly starts dispersing. The girls all give you their number, demanding you all hang out again soon. Paige is the last to leave, sending you both a sleepy wave as she closes the door behind her. You don’t miss the sly wink she sends your way when Azzi turns towards you.

You sit up a bit straighter as you stretch your arms and crack your back. The brunette sends you a playful look of disgust, scrunching up her nose as she hears your joints pop. You give her a wide, innocent grin. “I should get g-going,” you sigh, not wanting to part with the girl just yet. “Stay,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. You look back at her, a little shocked at the request. Her brown eyes meet yours. Her shoulders look a little more tense than usual, but her face looks calm and steady. “Okay,” you whisper back.

Azzi’s shoulders immediately relax as she sends you a soft smile. She gets up and walks over to her closet, finding you something to wear. “Is this okay?” She asks, holding up a pair of her shorts and a shirt with her basketball number on it. “Mhm,” you hum, trying not to blush at the fact that you’ll be wearing her clothes, her number.

After she hands you the clothes, you walk over to the bathroom and get ready for bed. You take an extra minute to let your face cool down after seeing yourself in the mirror. Once you’ve calmed down, you walk back into the bedroom and over to Azzi’s bed. The athlete’s eyes linger on you for a moment before she briskly walks into the bathroom to get ready herself.

You don’t see the brunette’s reddened cheeks as she goes to hide. You can’t tell Azzi is splashing water in her face to calm down as her mind goes a million miles per hour at how cute you look in her clothes. You’re completely unaware of the fact that your crush is fully losing her mind about the fact that she has fallen for you.

When Azzi returns, she crawls into the bed next to you, sliding down so you’re face to face. Your left hand is lying under your head, as your right lays between you two. She mimics your position before slowly sliding her hand into yours. Azzi sends you a soft smile, receiving one of your own in return. The smile doesn’t leave your face as you fall asleep staring at the angel in front of you.

When you wake up the next morning, the bed feels cold and empty. You frown a little as you get up. You pad over to the bathroom, scratching your head when you don’t see Azzi in there either. You swiftly get ready before making your way to the living room. You immediately see Paige and Azzi as they’re leaning over the kitchen counter. They’re both leaning in close, talking in hushed voices, before the blonde notices you in the doorway. She loudly clears her throat, straightening up as she exclaims, “Y/N! Good morning!”

“M-morning,” you say softly, sending Azzi a raised eyebrow. You wonder if something is wrong when she sends you an awkward smile that looks more like a grimace than anything. Noticing her look, Paige gives her a tiny push with her elbow before walking over to you. “So, do you have any classes today?” She asks.

“Y-yeah, in an hour… I should probably head b-b-back to my dorm to get r-r-ready,” you reply as you grab your stuff. You give Azzi a questioning look as she awkwardly stands behind Paige, looking down at the floor.

“Okay, w-well… See you guys l-later, I guess,” you say as you give them a small wave before leaving. You hear Paige turn to Azzi and say, “Oh my God, bro,” as you close the door with a small frown. Did you do something wrong? Did she find out you have a crush on her, and did she hate you?

You barely pay attention to your classes, still too focused on the way Azzi was acting this morning. Around noon, she texts you, wishing you good luck in Mr. Davis’ class, like she always does. You feel a bit more at ease, figuring you’re probably overthinking stuff. The athlete sends you her usual good night message when she goes to bed, as well as a routine good morning. You let the weird morning fall to the back of your mind as you both continue everything like normal.

Your nerves flare up again when a few days pass and Azzi doesn’t text you anything other than a good morning. She doesn’t even look at the messages you send in return, though she usually replies within a few minutes. By the time it’s noon and hours have passed, you’re pacing your dorm so much, you think you might leave a walking trail on the carpet. You’re biting your nails, the pit in your stomach growing by the minute. Your mind is floating with thoughts of something having happened to her or her not wanting to be your friend anymore.

You get shaken out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. You quickly walk over, hoping it’s the girl you can’t stop thinking about. When you open the door, you lose your breath for a moment. In front of you, Azzi is standing, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. She swallows harshly, looking at you nervously but also with determination.

She clears her throat a little, gripping the flowers a bit harder. “Hi,” she says. “Hi,” you breathe out, staring at her with wide eyes. “Listen, I… I really like you and… Damn it, I had this whole speech planned, but now that I’m here, I’m completely blanking,” she says as she starts frowning, looking at the floor.

You take a step closer to her, now standing halfway into the hallway. “Azzi…” you whisper, biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling. She looks back up at you before taking a deep breath. “I really like you, and it’s completely fine if you don’t like me back, but… I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me?” She says, trusting the flowers forward. You take them with a wide smile. “I’d love t-that,” you reply.

Your heart skips another beat as her face brightens. She pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tightly while making sure not to crush the flowers. You wrap your arms around her waist as you put your face in the crook of her neck. Inhaling deeply, you relax into her hold. You pinch yourself, making sure you’re not dreaming, grinning even wider when you realize you’re not.

You let go of each other as you hear a “YES!” from a few feet away. You both look towards the end of the hallway, seeing Paige peeking around the corner. The girl’s eyes widen as she quickly moves back behind the wall. You giggle as Azzi huffs. “I swear that girl cannot be normal.” “HEY!” The blonde yells back but doesn’t show herself. “Nor can she be subtle!” Azzi raises her voice. “Sorry!” Paige apologizes before you hear her retreating footsteps.

You grin up at Azzi, who’s rolling her eyes in amusement. “Sorry about that. I practiced my speech with her and told her to stay in our dorm, but she’s Paige, so she didn’t listen.” You shake your head, your eyes twinkling in entertainment as you pull the brunette into your dorm.

You two have a date to plan, after all.

#azzi fudd x reader #azzi x reader #oneshot #imagine #azzi fudd oneshot #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #azzi x you #uconn huskies #azzi fudd x fem!reader #wlw fanfic #BaPeach writes

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nickistuffs · 3 days ago

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Birthday with you

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference

Summary: As a late birthday celebration, Harry invited you to meet the people he holds dear to his heart.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None. Fluff 💗

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Harry had invited you to his birthday party at one of his luxurious villas in Italy. The villa, perched on a hill with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean, was stunning. The atmosphere was filled with the clinking of glasses, laughter, and the gentle hum of conversation—a perfect blend of elegance and warmth. But as you stepped inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were an outsider. This wasn’t just any party. It was an intimate gathering, filled with Harry's close family and friends, all of whom had known him for years. They shared memories and inside jokes you could only wish to be part of. You had never met any of them before, though you knew them from following Harry's career—interviews, social media, the occasional tabloid headline. But surface-level knowledge was hardly the same as truly knowing someone.

Harry, ever the warm and welcoming person, had been ecstatic to invite you. The moment you arrived, he stuck close to you, offering fleeting touches of his hand and gazes that reassured you. "I can’t wait for you to meet everyone," he had said, his enthusiasm undeniable. You tried to calm your nerves, but with every new face you saw, you couldn’t help but feel small. Would they accept you? Or would you just be another fan who had somehow found their way into Harry's world?

You sat quietly on a stool, nursing your drink and watching the lively chatter around you. Stories about childhood antics, tour memories, and quiet moments filled the air—things you were never a part of. The feeling of being an outsider weighed on you. But Harry had wanted you here, and you couldn’t let your nerves take over.

Just as you began to wonder if you'd ever feel at ease, someone tapped you gently on the shoulder. You turned around, startled, and found yourself face-to-face with Anne, Harry’s mum. Her warm smile immediately made you feel a little less alone.

"You must be Y/N," she said, her voice full of kindness. "Harry's told me so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Twist," you replied, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

"Please, call me Anne," she insisted. "I hope everyone’s making you feel welcome."

"Everyone's been lovely," you said with a smile, though a part of you still felt that initial intimidation.

Anne gave you a knowing glance before leaning in slightly. "You know, when Harry first mentioned inviting you, I could see how much he values your presence. He spoke about you with such enthusiasm."

You looked over at Harry, who was deep in conversation with a group of people. He caught your eye, offering you a warm smile that melted some of the tension.

"He's been looking forward to introducing you to everyone," Anne continued, "and I’m glad he did. It’s always wonderful to meet the people who mean so much to him."

Her words touched you more than you expected. "Thank you, Anne. That really means a lot."

Just as you were beginning to relax, you noticed Harry’s playful voice behind you. "I see you’ve met the most important woman in my life," he said, wrapping an arm around his mother’s shoulders.

Anne chuckled and patted Harry’s hand. "We've been getting along splendidly. I was just telling Y/N some stories from when you were little."

Harry groaned, his face contorting in mock horror. "Mum, you didn’t!"

"Oh, I did," Anne teased. "I had to let Y/N in on the time you tried to bake a cake and ended up with flour everywhere."

You laughed, picturing a younger Harry covered in flour. "That must have been quite the sight."

Harry rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. "I was seven! The recipe was way too complicated."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "It was a simple sponge cake, dear."

Before Harry could respond, Gemma, his sister, stepped into the conversation with a mischievous grin. "Oh, that’s nothing," she chimed in, her voice full of amusement as she approached the two of you, her baby cradled in her arms. "If we’re talking about embarrassing Harry stories, I’ve got plenty more."

Harry groaned louder. "Not you too, Gem."

Gemma’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, this is one of my favorites. Do you remember the time when Harry decided to put on a magic show for the whole family?"

Harry’s eyes widened. "Gemma, don’t you dare."

But Gemma, clearly enjoying the moment, wasn’t about to stop. "Well, let’s just say the 'magician' managed to lock himself in the bathroom for an hour because he couldn’t get the handcuffs off. And we had to call Mum to get him out."

You burst out laughing, imagining little Harry, desperate to get out of the bathroom. "That sounds like a real magic trick."

"It was more of a disappearing act," Gemma teased. "The only thing Harry disappeared into was the bathroom, and we had to rescue him."

Harry’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the smile on his face showed he was in on the joke. "I was, like, five!" he protested.

Anne laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think we should let Y/N hear the one about his birthday party when he got his first guitar."

You couldn’t help but laugh even more. It was so clear how much love and laughter surrounded this family. Their teasing, their easy camaraderie—it all made you feel like you were slowly becoming a part of it.

Harry finally gave in, rolling his eyes but laughing along with his mum and sister. "Alright, alright, I get it. I was a disaster as a kid."

"You were adorable," Gemma corrected with a playful grin, turning to you. "But honestly, Y/N, Harry’s stories are just the beginning. He’s grown up to be quite the character, even if he tries to act all serious now."

You smiled warmly at her. "I’m starting to see that."

Harry turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening. "I’m glad you’re getting to know my family. They’ve been a huge part of who I am."

"I can see that," you replied, genuinely touched by their kindness. "They’ve been wonderful."

Anne gave Harry a gentle nudge. "I’ll leave you two to chat. It was lovely talking with you, Y/N."

As she walked away, Harry took a step closer, his gaze intent. "I hope I’m not being too embarrassing," he said, a teasing smile on his face.

"Just enough," you teased back.

Harry laughed, his voice warm and carefree. "Fair enough. Come on, there’s someone else I want you to meet."

Taking your hand, he led you through the villa, guiding you from group to group and introducing you to more of his loved ones. With each introduction, you felt a little more at home, your earlier nervousness slowly fading. Harry’s world was no longer something you observed from afar—it was becoming something you were a part of. The people he loved were just as warm and kind as he was, and they made you feel less like an outsider with every passing moment.

...

After a few more conversations with family, Harry squeezed your hand and grinned. "Come on, there's a group of people I want you to meet."

You followed him through the lively party, passing by laughter-filled clusters of guests. As you neared a circle of friends, Harry's arm brushed your back to guide you into the group. The familiar faces in the circle weren't just anyone—they were his close-knit crew, each one sharing a piece of Harry’s world.

"Hey, everyone, this is Y/N" Harry announced, his voice light but with a hint of pride. "This is basically my second family." His eyes twinkled as he gestured toward them. "And trust me, they’ve all been waiting to meet you."

You smiled nervously, unsure of what to expect. The group welcomed you warmly, their faces open and friendly.

First, Harry’s friend Jeff, with a mischievous smile and an easygoing nature, stepped forward. “So, you’re the famous Y/N Harry’s always talking about. Good to finally meet you!” He gave you a quick hug, which immediately put you at ease.

Next was Glenne, whose bright eyes and calm demeanour were a sharp contrast to Jeff’s energy. She extended her hand warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you, Harry loves talking about you know,” she joked, laughing softly.

You chuckled and felt yourself relax even more. “I’m not used to this kind of attention,” you said, glancing at Harry, who was grinning proudly.

Just then, Sarah caught your attention. She was holding her infant daughter in her arms, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi, Y/N, I’m Sarah,” she said gently, her voice tender as she rocked her baby back and forth. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Harry was right your are pretty.”

"Well your daughter’s adorable," you said, blushing at her compliment.

Sarah beamed, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you! She’s a handful, but a joy. One of the many little wonders of life.” Her baby cooed, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

As if on cue, Mitch, with his wild, curly hair and a playful grin, came rushing past. He was in the middle of a lighthearted battle with a toddler, trying to tickle the little one. “Hey, I’m Mitch!” he exclaimed between laughs as the toddler squirmed and giggled. “Don’t let this chaos fool you, I’m a softie on the inside.”

The toddler finally broke free from Mitch’s grasp and sprinted toward Sarah, who swooped them up effortlessly. “It’s like a never-ending game with these two,” Mitch said, shrugging in amusement.

You smiled at the scene, feeling more and more comfortable with each passing second. Harry’s friends were warm and welcoming, each of them with their own.

...

As the group bombarded you with questions about your life, your interests, and how you ended up at the villa, you found yourself laughing and feeling surprisingly at ease. Each question felt like an invitation to share more of yourself, and their curiosity and warmth made you feel more at home with every passing minute.

You talked about your favorite books, the music you loved, and how you ended up in Italy. With every word, you felt a little more connected to the people who meant so much to Harry. The ease with which they welcomed you made the night feel like a celebration not just for Harry, but for the bonds they all shared—bonds you were now becoming a part of.

However, Harry had been standing off to the side, watching with a knowing smile. As much as he loved seeing you connect with his friends, there was something about the way they all adored you that made him want to have you to himself, just for a moment. He admired how effortlessly you fit in, but he couldn’t help but feel a little possessive, wanting a break from the crowd.

After a particularly lively round of questions about your favorite books and music, Harry stepped forward, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes twinkled with playful mischief as he squeezed your hand and, with a teasing smirk, spoke up.

“Alright, as generous as I am, I think it’s time I get a little selfish,” he said, his voice smooth and full of charm. “I want to steal my girl for a moment.” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “If that’s okay with everyone?”

The group let out a collective groan of exaggerated disappointment, but there was no mistaking the fondness in their voices. “Go on, mate, we’ll let you have her for a bit,” Jeff said with a wink, raising his glass in a mock salute.

Harry smiled at them, giving you a wink of his own, before gently guiding you away from the group. “See, they understand,” he said with a smirk, leading you toward a quieter corner of the villa.

As you walked away, a warm blush spread across your cheeks from his words. You could feel the eyes of his friends on you, but it didn’t matter. The heat of the moment only deepened the connection between the two of you, and Harry’s presence was like an anchor in the sea of social energy around you.

Once you were far enough from the crowd, Harry stopped, turning to face you. His eyes softened as they lingered on you for a moment, taking in the soft blue dress you wore for him. The way the fabric hugged your form made his heart skip a beat. He reached up, his fingers gently brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The simple touch sent a warm shiver down your spine.

He smiled, clearly appreciative of the effort you’d put into looking beautiful for him. “I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, filled with affection. “I just wanted to be with you, even if it’s just for a minute.”

You chuckled, your voice light but sincere. “It’s your birthday party, Harry. The attention should be on you.”

He shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “They’ve worked with me all year. They might be sick of me already.”

You laughed at that, the sound of it filling the space between you two, feeling like it was just the two of you at that moment, away from the chaos of the party.

You leaned in slightly, your faces close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The distant sounds of the party faded into the background, and in that quiet moment, all that mattered was the intimacy between the two of you. Harry’s gentle touch, his easygoing nature, and the warmth of his presence made everything else seem distant, like background noise.

He leaned down, his lips brushing near your ear, his breath warm against your cheek. “Though I have to say, it’s pretty fun making you blush.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your attempt at feigning indifference. “You're impossible,” you whispered, your voice light but full of affection.

Harry chuckled, and you could feel the warmth of his laugh in the air between you. “You love it,” he teased gently, his fingers still tracing circles on your skin.

Just then, the sound of laughter broke through the quiet moment, and you heard a voice from the distance call out with a teasing tone.

“Hey lovebirds, time to blow out the candles on your cake, Harry!”

The playful interruption came from none other than Jeff, who stood with the group, his mischievous grin matching the fondness in his eyes. The others behind him chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment they had interrupted.

You and Harry exchanged an amused glance, both of you still caught in the afterglow of the quiet moment you shared. With a soft sigh, Harry smiled, his hand gently holding yours once more.

“Well,” he said, his grin widening as he gave you a playful nudge, “looks like they’re calling us back to the party. But don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you’re not.”

With that, Harry led you back toward the group. As the bustling crowd and lively chatter resumed around you, the warmth of the quiet moment you’d just shared lingered. It was a perfect balance—shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and just enough of Harry’s attention to remind you how much he cared. The party was a celebration of him, but with him by your side, it felt like a celebration of the two of you.

Just as Harry was about to blow out his candles, Anne’s voice rang out, playful and full of motherly warmth. “Make a wish, Harry!” she called from across the room.

Harry paused for a beat, a small smile playing on his lips. He glanced at you, then back at his cake, before he blew out the candles. He already knew what he’d wished for—and he didn’t need to make a wish to know it had already come true.

...

AAAHHH!!! HBD to our lovely Harry Styles <3

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misshoneyimhome · 3 days ago

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What’s up, buttercups! 💕 Welcome back to chapter two of The Benchwarmer! First off—thank you so much for all the love and excitement you’ve shared for this story already. Seeing your reactions has been the absolute best, and I’m beyond excited to keep unfolding this journey with you!

Now, in case you’re wondering—will there ever be any intimate interactions between Reader and Auston? Oh, absolutely ✨ Have I made this a painfully slow burn that’s torturing even me with the suspense? Also yes🔥 Happy reading, my darlings! 💕✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, no warnings

Word count: 6.3K Chapter one

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter two: #MysteryQueen

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems we have a mystery on our hands. Last night’s charity gala gave us glitz, glamour, and a moment that has the internet on fire. Forget the perfectly tailored suits, designer gowns, and champagne flutes—because what truly stole the show was one unexpected stumble and the instant chemistry that followed.

Our beloved Ice King, Auston Matthews, found himself caught in an uncharacteristically warm moment with an unidentified woman whose presence has ignited more conspiracy theories than a Stanley Cup drought. A fleeting touch, a lingering gaze, and now a photo has been seen around the world. Toronto can’t stop talking about it, and #MysteryQueen is trending faster than you can say, ‘Hat trick.’

Could the Ice King’s frosty demeanour finally be thawing?

Now, let’s not forget the timing, dear readers. With Matthews stepping into the captain’s role this season, his every move has been scrutinised. A new relationship would add fuel to the fire, making the stakes higher than ever. But this columnist can’t help but wonder—does the man who keeps everyone at arm’s length finally have someone worth letting in?

Stay tuned, Toronto. This season has just begun, and the story is heating up – so you know I’ll be here to bring you every detail.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

Monday -

The shrill sound of your alarm cut through the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake with a groggy start. You fumbled to silence it, groaning as you buried your face back into the pillow. The events of the gala were already slipping into a hazy blur—clinking glasses, polished speeches, and that awkward but fleeting moment with Auston Matthews. Another long night of work, another day ahead. Same routine, different Monday.

Except… your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

The incessant buzzing broke through your grogginess like a second alarm. You squinted at the screen, your vision struggling to adjust to the early morning light filtering through the blinds. Notification after notification lit up your phone, the vibration almost rattling it off your nightstand. You reached for it, dread prickling at the edges of your still-sleepy mind. Why was everyone blowing up your phone?

You swiped it open only to see your group chat with Jess and Maya was on fire.

Jess (7:23 AM): OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?

Maya (7:24 AM): You’re all over X! #MysteryQueen is trending, babe!

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion settling in your chest like a lead weight. Trending? That couldn’t be right. With trembling fingers, you tapped the link Jess had sent, a sinking feeling in your gut as the page loaded.

It took a moment—your Wi-Fi felt sluggish, though it was probably just your nerves slowing time to a crawl. When the image finally appeared, your breath caught.

There it was: the photo. The one everyone seemed to be talking about.

Auston Matthews’ hands were firmly wrapped around your torso, his smirk that perfect mix of charm and confidence, while your face betrayed every ounce of surprise and embarrassment you’d felt in that moment. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide—you looked like you’d stumbled straight out of a romance novel and into his arms.

The lighting, the angle, the backdrop—it was all too good. Soft, golden hues framed the two of you like the culmination of a carefully planned rom-com climax. Whoever had captured the moment had turned a fleeting accident into what now appeared to be undeniable chemistry.

Above the photo, the headline read: “Has the Ice King finally been dethroned? Who is this stunning Mystery Queen?”

Your stomach churned as you scrolled through the attached comments. They were relentless.

“Who is she???”

“She’s gorgeous! Can we ship this already?”

“Ice King has a Queen! Loving this”

Memes were already circulating: the two of you photoshopped onto movie posters, side-by-side shots of you under headlines like “Toronto’s Hottest Couple?” Theories ranged from harmless to absurd—everything from claims you were his secret girlfriend to guesses about your astrological compatibility.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jess (7:26 AM): You broke the internet, Queen. Do we bow now, or…?

Maya (7:30 AM): You’re literally famous. Like, for real. Can we talk about how hot Auston Matthews looked holding you?

A groan escaped you as you tossed your phone back onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. “This can’t be happening…”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the panic wash over you. Your mind raced as you replayed the moment in question. It had been nothing. A stumble, a quick save, a polite exchange, and you’d moved on. How had it spiralled into this?

Your laptop sat on your desk, its sleek, black screen staring back at you like it dared you to confirm just how bad things were. Hesitating, you opened it and typed in the dreaded hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

The search results were overwhelming. Page after page of posts, photos, and speculation. Your name hadn’t surfaced yet—thankfully—but that didn’t stop people from trying to piece together every detail about you. Some users had gone so far as to zoom in on your necklace, debating whether it was a gift from Auston.

You groaned again, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. Stress bubbled in your chest, threatening to spill over. Jess and Maya’s texts kept pinging, a mix of teasing and encouragement that you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

Jess: “So… when are you introducing us to Auston?”

Maya: “Not to be dramatic, but if you don’t milk this for all it’s worth, I’ll be mad.”

You snorted despite yourself, though the laugh was hollow. You opened your email, desperate for a distraction or a sense of normalcy, but the subject line at the top of your inbox snatched that hope away: “We need to talk about last night.”

It was from your boss.

Your stomach sank further as you glanced at the clock. 7:45 AM. Not even time for coffee.

“Perfect,” you muttered, slamming your laptop shut. This wasn’t just damage control anymore—this was survival. You needed to get ready for work, figure out how to salvage your career, and pray the internet had a short attention span.

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly in the background as Auston Matthews stood in his kitchen, barefoot on the cool tile floor. He scrolled through his phone with one hand while expertly cracking an egg into a sizzling pan with the other. The aroma of coffee brewing filled the space, mingling with the faint sound of the egg frying. It was a typical morning—except for the buzzing chaos of his phone on the counter, vibrating with relentless notifications.

His phone rattled against the marble again. He leaned over, smirking as the latest messages lit up the screen.

Mitchy (7:15 AM): “Nice work, Captain. Saving PR girls in distress now?”

Auston chuckled softly, shaking his head. Mitch’s commentary was always reliable.

A second buzz followed.

Willy (7:20 AM): “Does she have a sister? Asking for a friend.”

He snorted, typing out a quick reply: “You’d have no chance, Willy.”

Sliding the eggs onto a plate, Auston grabbed a bottle of Prime from the fridge. He leaned back against the counter, sipping casually while thumbing through social media. There it was—the photo that had set the internet on fire.

The hashtags were as relentless as the messages from his teammates:

#MysteryQueen

#IceKingAndQueen

#CoupleGoals

Fans were analysing every pixel of the image: the way he leaned slightly toward you, his smirk soft and almost intimate, the subtle tilt of your head that made it seem like the two of you were the only ones in the room. It was absurd, the way a split-second interaction had been turned into a viral sensation.

His phone buzzed again.

Mitchy (7:32 AM): “So? You bringing her to practice? Or is this another ‘one night and done’ thing?”

Auston rolled his eyes and typed back, “Jealous, Marner?”

The reply came instantly.

Mitchy: “Of you? Never. Of her? Maybe.”

Auston let out a low laugh, setting his phone down with a soft clink. The teasing didn’t bother him. If anything, it amused him. Let them speculate. Let the internet obsess over the photo. He had always been good at playing into the media’s games while staying one step ahead.

He finished his breakfast in thoughtful silence, his mind briefly wandering back to the gala. The night had been standard fare: sponsors, schmoozing, and carefully crafted soundbites. But then there had been you—stumbling into his space, equal parts flustered and sharp-witted. You had been anything but predictable, and that, more than anything, had caught his attention.

The photo had turned a fleeting moment into a viral phenomenon. Now, he was caught up in the swirl of speculation, but unlike most, he didn’t mind. It was fun.

For now, though, there was training to get to. Auston grabbed his bag and headed out, smirking at his phone one last time before silencing the endless stream of notifications. The Ice King wasn’t worried—he was just getting started.

Arriving at the office felt like stepping onto a stage where you were the unwitting star of a play you hadn’t auditioned for. The usual hum of activity—clicking keyboards, ringing phones, snippets of muted conversation—was still there, but today, it had a charged edge. Every sound felt sharper, every glance lingered a second too long, and the air seemed to buzz with anticipation, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

You pushed through the glass doors, clutching your bag tightly as your heels clicked against the polished tile. The receptionist, a chipper woman named Clara who usually greeted you with a bright smile and a cheerful good morning, faltered for a split second before recovering. Her eyes flicked to her computer screen, her cheeks pink as if you’d caught her mid-gossip. She returned your nod with a stiff smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her hand nervously adjusting a stack of papers on her desk.

You offered her a polite “Morning” and continued down the hall, the weight of invisible eyes trailing you like static electricity. The whispers started almost immediately, barely muffled by the thin partitions between desks.

“Is that her?” a voice murmured, not even bothering to lower the volume much.

“I told you it was!” another hissed in reply. “She’s the one from the photo. Did you see how close they were?”

You felt your skin prickle, a flush creeping up your neck. It wasn’t just the whispers—it was the sidelong glances, the quick turns of heads as you passed, the way conversations halted the moment you entered a room. They didn’t need to say your name for you to know exactly what they were talking about.

The now-infamous image of you and Auston Matthews—locked in what looked like a moment of intimate connection—had spread through the office like wildfire. It had morphed you from a background player into the unwelcome centre of attention. Each step felt heavier than the last, your confidence sinking further as you imagined the scenarios they must be concocting. Yet, despite the murmurs, no one dared to approach you directly. They simply stared, whispered, and speculated, leaving you to endure the attention in silence.

By the time you reached your desk, your nerves were stretched taut. You dropped your bag next to the chair and slumped into the seat, staring blankly at your computer screen. The open layout of the office, which usually fostered collaboration, now felt stifling. Every glance felt like a spotlight, every quiet chuckle like it was aimed at you. Your chest tightened as if the walls were closing in.

A soft ping from your computer startled you. You opened your inbox with shaky hands, hoping for a mundane email to ground you. Instead, your heart sank as you read the subject line: “Meeting: 9:30 AM – Mr. Manion’s Office.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course. Your boss wasn’t going to let this slide without a formal discussion.

The clock read 9:30 AM sharp when you stood outside your boss’s office, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. The glass door reflected your image back at you—your blazer slightly wrinkled from the walk, your fingers clutching a tablet like a shield. You forced yourself to smooth down your hair, adjust your blouse, and plaster on a neutral expression. You knocked twice, the sound sharp and hollow.

“Come in,” came the brisk reply.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing the imposing space. Your boss’s office was the epitome of professionalism—sharp lines, muted tones, and a sense of order that bordered on sterile. Framed photos of MLSE milestones lined the walls, alongside neatly mounted jerseys signed by players he'd worked with countless times - hockey, baseball, basketball. The desk was immaculate, save for a single folder that sat directly in the centre. You didn’t need to look closer to know what was inside it.

Mr. Manion, your boss, a no-nonsense man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetually stern expression, gestured for you to sit. You perched stiffly on the edge of the leather chair, gripping the armrests like they might keep you grounded. The silence in the room stretched, the tension palpable as he flipped open the folder and scanned its contents.

Finally, he looked up, his brows knitting together in faint disapproval. “You’re aware of the situation, I assume?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your stomach. “I’ve seen the photo.”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Good. Then you understand why this is an issue. This photo—and the ridiculous frenzy it’s caused—has overshadowed what was supposed to be a highlight of our season. The charity event. The teams. Not…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his gaze unyielding. “You.”

The words landed like a slap, even though you’d braced yourself for them. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “I understand completely.”

“Do you?” His tone sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Because right now, this office looks less like a PR department and more like the set of a reality show. And if there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s distractions. Our focus is the client. Always the client.”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks burning. “I’ll fix it.”

He leaned forward, his gaze unrelenting. “Good. I’ve organised that you'll be at the hockey game tonight. You’ll work with the MLSE media team to redirect the narrative. Shift the attention back to the players, the franchise—anything but this viral nonsense. Understood?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firm even as the weight of his expectations settled on your shoulders.

“And another thing,” he added, his tone softening but his expression remaining stern. “You’ll be working with Chase.”

Your stomach dropped. Of all people. Chase, the golden boy of the department who had an uncanny ability to make every situation about himself. Smug, self-assured, and relentless in his pursuit of credit for others’ work, he was the last person you wanted to be paired with.

“Chase?” you repeated, unable to keep the dismay out of your voice.

“Yes,” Mr. Manion said with finality. “He’s handled high-pressure situations before, and I expect you two to work together professionally to resolve this. No more distractions. No more headlines.”

You forced a tight smile. “Understood.”

“Good,” he said, closing the folder with a decisive snap. “Don’t let me down.”

The walk back to your desk felt even longer than the one to his office. Chase. Seriously... You could already picture his self-satisfied grin, the condescending tone he’d use to offer “advice.” The idea of spending the evening with him—let alone relying on him—made your skin crawl.

You slumped into your chair, your head spinning. The whispers around the office seemed to grow louder, like static building to a crescendo. You wanted to disappear, to crawl under your desk and wait for the world to forget the photo. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t an option.

Maybe, you thought for a brief moment, this could be an opportunity. Not the one you’d envisioned, but a chance nonetheless. If you could handle the media circus, Chase’s smugness, and the weight of your boss’s expectations, you’d prove you belonged here—not just as a worker, but as a leader.

Straightening your spine, you smoothed invisible wrinkles from your blouse. No more photos. No more moments. No more headlines. Just fix this and move forward.

Easy enough. Right?

The Maple Leafs’ locker room was alive with its usual pre-practice energy. The air buzzed with the familiar sounds of hockey prep—sticks being taped with meticulous precision, skate blades being checked and tightened, and gear bags being unzipped with sharp zings. The smell of sweat, leather, and faint traces of menthol liniment filled the room, but today, the usual pre-game hum carried an extra spark.

All eyes were on Auston Matthews.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice broke through the din, instantly commanding attention. He was perched precariously on the bench, one foot up like a man about to deliver the Gettysburg Address. “So, do we call her your soulmate, or was she just your ‘weekend highlight’?”

The room erupted in laughter. Mitch, ever the instigator, milked the moment with exaggerated gestures, holding his heart like he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. Auston, unfazed, shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly in his stall as though Mitch hadn’t spoken at all.

“Neither,” Auston replied, his tone so smooth and casual it bordered on bored. “But thanks for your concern, Mitchy. Really warms my heart.”

“Oh, I’m concerned,” Mitch shot back, leaping down from the bench with dramatic flair. “It’s not every day our Captain makes romantic headlines off the ice.”

Matthew Knies chimed in next, leaning back lazily in his stall. His grin, wicked and knowing, spread like wildfire across his face. “You gonna share the story, or are you keeping this one all to yourself? Come on, Cappy. Did you at least get her number? Or is this just another no-strings situation?”

Auston finally glanced over, one brow arching in mock amusement. “Don’t you have a mirror to stare at, Kniesy? Go admire yourself somewhere else.”

The laughter doubled, bouncing off the walls like a puck ricocheting off the boards. Even the more reserved players smirked as the banter escalated.

Reaves, stretching out his shoulders, added in his deep baritone, “Bet her phone’s already blowing up. She’s probably sitting there right now, trying to figure out if she’s ready to handle the ‘Ice King.’”

“Or,” Mitch interjected again, holding up a finger like a professor making a critical point, “she’s trying to figure out why she’s trending while he’s already onto the next one.”

Auston rolled his eyes, dropping onto the bench as he reached for his skates. “You guys seriously need better hobbies.”

“Hobbies?” Mitch feigned outrage, clutching his chest theatrically like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is our hobby! Watching you fumble around women like it’s your first time stepping onto the ice.”

Even John Tavares, usually the stoic leader of the group, couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he taped his stick with methodical precision.

“You’re gonna need a new nickname after this,” Conor Timmins called out, grinning as he adjusted his shin guards. “Something like… Loverboy Matthews.”

“Or Prince Charming,” Max Domi suggested, leaning against the wall with a toothless grin. “You swooped in, caught her mid-fall—classic fairy-tale move. You practicing for a movie, or what?”

Auston didn’t miss a beat. “Just trying to remind you guys what grace under pressure looks like.”

The locker room erupted into hoots and cheers, players slapping their thighs or sticks against the floor in exaggerated applause. Even Auston, usually unflappable, couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s not forget the most important question, eh,” Mitch said, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “Did you or did you not close the deal? Because if you didn’t…” He let the sentence hang, his grin turning mischievous as the room erupted again.

Auston shook his head, leaning down to lace his skates with deliberate precision. “You guys are fucking awful. It was nothing. She’s just a PR manager doing her job. That’s it.”

Reaves shook his head, chuckling. “You’re telling me that look she gave you was part of the job? Please. If that’s her work face, I need to hire her immediately.”

“Let me guess,” William said, his grin widening. “You gave her your best smoulder, and she melted, didn’t she? Ice King strikes again.”

“Smoulder?” Mitch nearly doubled over laughing. “He probably just stood there and grunted. That’s his move. ‘I’m Auston Matthews. Be impressed.’”

“Don’t forget the eyebrow raise,” Max chimed in, waggling his own brows for emphasis. “That’s his closer.”

Auston grabbed a towel from his stall and lobbed it at Mitch, who narrowly dodged it with a dramatic yelp. “Keep dreaming, Marner. You’re just mad you’ll never have my moves.”

The room roared with laughter as Mitch held his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, please. I don’t need your moves, buddy. I’ve got personality.”

“Personality?” Auston repeated, finally looking up with a smirk. “That what you call it now?”

Before Mitch could fire back, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos. Chief’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Alright, enough! Let’s go! Save the soap opera for after practice.”

The laughter died down, though the smirks and knowing glances lingered as the players turned their attention to gearing up.

As soon as Auston stepped onto the ice, the locker room antics faded into the background. The cool air hit his face, sharpening his focus as he took his first powerful strides across the rink. The sound of blades slicing across the ice and sticks snapping against pucks filled the arena, a symphony of precision and power.

“Alright, boys, let’s dial it in!” Auston called, his voice cutting through the hum of activity.

His every movement on the ice was fluid and deliberate, his passes snapping perfectly to his teammates like they were guided by some invisible force. He commanded the flow of drills with the confidence of a seasoned leader, his focus razor-sharp.

Even when Mitch skated past during a drill, leaning in just close enough to whisper, “Hey, Prince Charming—don’t forget to teach us those moves later,” Auston didn’t miss a beat.

“Don’t worry, Mitchy,” he replied, his tone calm and cool. “I’ll save the lessons for when you finally learn how to backcheck.”

The nearby players burst into laughter, and Mitch groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. Auston smirked as he returned to the drill, his focus unwavering.

Back in the locker room, the banter picked up again as the players peeled off their gear and hit the showers. Auston wiped sweat from his forehead, grabbing his phone from his stall out of habit. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications, but one message stood out.

Mom: “Hola, mijo! Saw the news. You have a girlfriend now? Why didn’t you tell me? Qué sorpresa! Call me later. Besos!”

Auston groaned, leaning back in his stall as he rubbed a hand over his face. Of course, the rumours had made their way all the way to Arizona. His mother never missed a thing.

He quickly typed out a reply:

Auston: “No girlfriend. Just the media blowing things out of proportion. Promise I’ll call later.”

From the stall next to him, Mitch leaned over, his grin as wide as ever. “Let me guess—Mama Matthews wants to meet her future daughter-in-law?”

Auston groaned, tossing another damp towel at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Marner?”

“Not until I hear how you’re gonna explain this to her,” Mitch quipped, dodging the towel with a laugh.

Auston shook his head, smirking despite himself. It was going to be a long day. The Ice King wasn’t just trending—he was thriving.

“Oh, Auston. A commanding captain on the ice, a knight in shining armour at the galas—tell us, is there anything you can’t do? From blistering wrist shots to a disarming smirk that leaves reporters and fans alike spellbound, you’ve mastered the art of being Toronto’s shining star. Perhaps Mitch Marner should take notes—not just on your hockey technique, but on handling attention with your signature, infuriatingly effortless charm. And William Nylander? He might need a crash course in keeping up with your knack for drawing the spotlight without even trying.

But every kingdom needs balance, doesn’t it? A king isn’t a king without his loyal support. The rookies may watch your every move, but the city is watching, too—an entire court of adoring subjects, dissecting every detail, every headline, every photo. Careful, Matthews. It’s easy to rule the ice, but when the lines between the rink and the spotlight begin to blur, kingdoms can crumble under the weight of their own grandeur.

Your throne is solid for now, but your court is hungry for more. What will you give them next? - The Benchwarmer”

The Scotiabank Arena buzzed with pre-game anticipation, the hum of excited chatter blending with the sharp sounds of skates cutting across the ice during warm-ups. Fans clad in blue-and-white jerseys filled the air with energy, their collective excitement palpable as they streamed through the wide doors. The aroma of buttery popcorn and sizzling pretzels wafted through the concourse, mingling with the chill that radiated from the rink below.

You adjusted your blazer with a sharp tug, clutching your tablet tightly as you made your way to the media section. This was your arena of expertise—coordinating interviews, ensuring the narrative focused on the team, and staying invisible in the process. But tonight, the stakes felt impossibly high. The viral #MysteryQueen photo wasn’t just following you; it was plastered in the eyes and whispers of everyone around you.

As you approached the media room entrance, Chase was already waiting, predictably pristine in his perfectly tailored suit. His signature smirk was firmly in place, the kind that always made you want to roll your eyes. He leaned casually against the wall, looking as though he were preparing to deliver a victory speech rather than assist you in damage control.

“Well, well,” he said as you reached him, his tone dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t Toronto’s newest viral sensation. Tell me, how’s life as #MysteryQueen treating you?”

You shot him a glare, your jaw tightening. “Let’s just focus on the job,” you replied curtly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chase said, falling into step beside you as you walked into the room. “I’m here to make sure you don’t turn this into an even bigger mess. You’ve done enough of that already.”

You clenched your teeth, your grip on the tablet tightening. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Chase.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Because from where I’m standing, you could use a crash course in PR basics. Like staying invisible and not ending up as the story. Rookie move, don’t you think?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with an icy glare. “Are you going to help, or are you just here to gloat?”

Chase raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrelenting. “Relax. I’m just here to keep you in line. Wouldn’t want you tripping over Matthews again and handing the internet more fuel for their fire.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the jab, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath, counting silently to three. “Let’s just get through tonight without any incidents,” you said, turning on your heel and walking ahead without waiting for his reply.

The pre-game interviews began in a whirlwind of camera flashes and bustling reporters. Auston Matthews entered the room right on time, his presence commanding immediate attention. Every camera lens turned toward him, capturing his perfectly composed demeanour as he prepared for the barrage of questions.

You stood to the side, tablet in hand, observing quietly as he answered each question with ease. He was a natural—calm, polished, and confident. His responses were precise yet charming, a masterclass in handling media under pressure.

Chase leaned in slightly, his voice low but laced with condescension. “Look at him—perfect posture, perfect answers. You’d think he rehearsed this a hundred times.”

“He has,” you shot back under your breath, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Auston’s gaze flicked in your direction, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. For a split second, a glimmer of amusement danced across his face, as though he’d overheard your exchange. He smirked slightly, turning back to the reporters, but somehow the gesture felt like it was meant for you.

When the interviews concluded, you stepped aside to check the evening’s schedule, your focus shifting back to logistics. Of course, Chase remained close, ready to offer unsolicited commentary.

“You know,” he began, his voice teasing as he leaned against the wall, “if you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, you might want to stop looking at him like that.”

Your head snapped up, a frown forming on your face. “Like what?” you demanded, sharper than you intended.

“Like he’s the only person in the room,” Chase replied with a smug grin. “Just saying.”

Before you could respond, the crowd began to disperse, the pre-game atmosphere shifting as fans filed toward their seats for the national anthem. You let out a frustrated breath, forcing yourself to refocus. Chase wasn’t worth your energy. Not tonight.

As the game began, the arena roared to life, the crowd erupting with every rush down the ice and save by the goalie. From the media section, you watched the game unfold, your tablet propped on your lap as you took notes and ensured the schedule ran smoothly. Auston was, as always, in his element, commanding the ice with every stride. He directed plays with a sharpness that reminded everyone why he wore the captain’s “C.”

But even amidst the game’s intensity, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you glanced up, it felt as though the whispers of fans were louder than the cheers. You caught glimpses of people pointing in your direction, their phones raised discreetly—or not so discreetly—to snap photos.

The hashtag wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, the spectacle was growing.

Chase leaned over during a break in play, his smirk firmly in place. “You’re a hit, you know. The internet can’t get enough of you.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, keeping your eyes on the game. But his words lingered, gnawing at your already frazzled nerves. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—or ever asked for. Worse, you couldn’t tell if Auston was ignoring the attention or quietly revelling in it.

As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, you exhaled deeply, the weight of the night still pressing down on you. But this was only the beginning. There was still so much more to face.

The buzz of the post-game crowd echoed faintly through the tunnel, a mix of jubilant cheers and the hum of arena staff preparing to wind down for the night. The air was thick with energy, but you barely noticed, your thoughts consumed by the task ahead. You stood just outside the media room, shifting your weight between your heels as if the motion could steady the whirlwind of nerves building inside you.

Your tablet felt heavy in your arms, not because of its weight but because of what it symbolised—your professional armour in a moment that felt far too personal. The image of the viral photo flashed through your mind for the hundredth time that day. The teasing. The whispers. The relentless #MysteryQueen hashtag that refused to die. You hadn’t asked for this spotlight, but it seemed determined to follow you.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and when Auston Matthews stepped out of the media room, your pulse quickened. His shirt was damped, the faint sheen of exertion still clinging to his skin. He exuded a casual confidence, as if he were entirely unfazed by the chaos swirling around him. His gaze swept the hallway before landing on you, and just like that, his professional mask slipped into something more playful.

Raising a brow, he smirked, his tone low and teasing. “Waiting for me?”

You let out a huff, trying to summon the last reserves of your professionalism. “We need to talk,” you said briskly, nodding toward a quieter corner of the hallway.

Intrigued, Auston fell into step beside you, the faint click of his shoes on the concrete floor adding to the tension. Once out of earshot from the lingering media, he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a relaxed pose that was the polar opposite of how you felt. His posture was casual, but his eyes were sharp, watching you with open curiosity.

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his smirk never wavering. “What’s on your mind, Mystery Queen?”

The heat rushed to your cheeks, and you resisted the childish urge to stomp your foot. “Can you not call me that?”

“Fine,” he replied, clearly humouring you, though the amusement in his voice only grew. “What’s the issue, boss?”

Taking a steadying breath, you tightened your grip on your tablet, the hard edges grounding you. “I need you to address the rumours,” you said firmly. “Publicly. Tell everyone there’s nothing between us.”

Auston tilted his head, his smirk softening into something closer to curiosity. “Why?”

“Because,” you said, struggling to keep your frustration in check, “my boss isn’t thrilled about the attention. I’m supposed to be behind the scenes, not… trending online. I have a career to build, and this whole spectacle is not helping.”

He nodded slowly; his expression thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might agree. But then, a different light sparked in his eyes—something calculating, almost mischievous—and his smirk returned, sharper than before.

“You want people to take you seriously, right?” he asked, his tone almost too casual.

“Yes,” you said cautiously, narrowing your eyes. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“And you need to stand out? Get noticed by your boss?”

The suspicion prickling at the back of your neck deepened. “What are you getting at?”

Auston straightened slightly, his relaxed stance giving way to something more deliberate. “What if… we don’t deny it?”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive tone that could probably charm half the city. “The attention isn’t going away anytime soon. If anything, it’s only going to get worse. So why not use it to your advantage?”

“You’re suggesting we… fake it?”

“Exactly,” Auston said, his confidence radiating like heat from a fire. “You want people to notice you? They will. You’ll look like the PR genius who landed me. And I get the media off my back for a while. Everyone thinks I’m ‘taken,’ and they stop asking me about my personal life. Win-win.”

You blinked at him, completely stunned by the audacity of his proposal. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he countered, his tone steady, his expression calm. “You said you wanted to build your name. What better way to get people talking? We use this Benchwarmer columnist to our advantage - the gossip she’s writing about me. Us. It’s pure strategy - something you’d know all about. Huh?”

Logic screamed at you to walk away, to tell him he was out of his mind. But another part of you—the part that had endured Chase’s relentless teasing, your boss’s stern lecture, and the whispers of your co-workers—paused. Was this really any more ridiculous than the situation you were already in? And if you played it right, couldn’t this be an opportunity?

You chewed your lip, your gaze darting toward the hallway where the faint buzz of the arena still lingered. “If this has to work,” you said hesitantly, “it has to be believable. No half-measures.”

“Believable,” Auston repeated, his smirk widening into a full grin. “That’s my specialty.”

You let out a resigned sigh, shaking your head. “This is crazy.”

“Crazy works,” he said with a wink, leaning in just enough to make your pulse skip. “Trust me.”

You searched his face for any sign that he wasn’t serious, but all you found was confidence and a glimmer of mischief. Against every ounce of better judgment, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The grin that spread across Auston’s face was triumphant, almost wolfish. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his voice low and assured.

As you turned to walk away, your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts racing faster than the cheers that still echoed faintly through the arena. You couldn’t help but wonder: What have I just gotten myself into?

“Dear Toronto readers, it seems we have yet another moment destined for the record books. The Ice King himself, Auston Matthews, and his so-called Mystery Queen were spotted in an intimate exchange in the depths of Scotiabank Arena, away from the roar of the crowd and the cameras—well, most of them.

Sparks, dear readers, are flying faster than pucks on a power play.

The city is buzzing louder than the boards after a hard check, and why wouldn’t it be? For a team as iconic as the Maple Leafs, even the smallest whisper of a new royal couple in their kingdom is enough to set the fandom ablaze. And this particular pairing? It has all the makings of a modern fairy tale—complete with a little mystery and a lot of chemistry.

But let’s not forget the rest of the court. The rookies may be loyal subjects, and the veteran players ever-watchful advisors, but every kingdom comes with its share of intrigue. Whispers from the locker room suggest a reign of strategy, while murmurs in the stands lean toward romance.

Whatever the truth, one thing is certain: this King and Queen have the entire city watching their every move. Will their story be one of triumph or turmoil? Only time will tell.

So, stay tuned, Toronto. The season is young, and the drama is only just beginning.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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