#leaf’s writing

[nylwnder]

little secret

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

pairing: auston matthews x fem!reader

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

word count: 3.4k

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

series masterpost

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

you nod, biting your lip.

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“need you. so bad.” you whine.

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

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

you whimper, “please”

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

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

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

not yet. just a little longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah?” he asks softly.

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

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

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

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

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

the little things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what?” he asks curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“promise.”

“good.”

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[seelie-buddy]

Tell Me You Love Me

summary : your love for alhaitham is endless, and you make sure to express that verbally; alhaitham makes sure his affections reaches you as well

contains : alhaitham believes in 'actions speak louder than words' ; pre-established relationship ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 800

The candle by your bedside is close to running out when Alhaitham appears through the door. Eyes drooping and a yawn slipping out, the bed dips under his weight as he joins your side. You smile softly as he snuggles in, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut instantly.

"Long day?" You whisper, raising a hand to brush through his hair. You receive a sleepy hum for a response as you pull the blanket over him. "Rest well then."

You can feel his breathing slow as sleep comes over him. It's rather endearing, watching him melt in your embrace, relax to your warmth. Oh, you loved him dearly. And you had no qualms to saying it out loud.

"I love you," you say, a gentle whisper as you lay a soft kiss against his forehead. You would repeat those words for him over and over again until the whole world knew. You would let those words echo through your shared house, letting its warmth fan the fire of the hearth, allowing your abode flourish in the warmth of a home.

And you were sure he heard you, as you felt his hand brush against yours, his index finger curling around yours, wrapping your finger in a gentle, yet firm, hold.

The sky remained hidden behind large, fluffy grey clouds, indicating the rain that would soon fall on Sumeru City. It made sense then of the people rushing back into the shelter of their homes before they get caught in the upcoming downpour.

You simply smiled at the idea of a cozy evening. You paused in your tracks, however, as you caught the whiff of flowers. Turning around, you catch glimpse a flower vender, packing up their stall as the other merchants did.

You returned home, grinning brightly despite the light scoldings of the elderly flower vender who was rushing to return home.

"I'm home!" You chirp in a sing-song. And ah, the sight of your beloved welcoming you back with a warm smile.

You thrust the flowers into Alhaitham's hand, feeling absolutely gleeful at the surprise flashing across his face. His widened eyes, momentary gaping melting into a smile as he recognizes the bouquet of flowers to be the same as the first gift you had given him at the start of your love story.

"I have something for you too," he says in a soft whisper before disappearing into your shared bedroom before returning with another bouquet of flowers in hand. Ah, seems he must have encountered the flower vendor on his way home as well.

His gaze remains on you as you laugh at the coincidence, his eyes honeyed with endearment and softened with amusement.

Oh and his silent laugh as you jumped into his arms, hugging him tight.

"I love you."

You were sure you found your heaven on earth.

You love your off days. Not only did you get to sleep peacefully until the sunlight seeping in through the curtains slowly awake you, but you get to enjoy the sight of your sleepy beloved. The whispered 'good morning's as you take each other in an embrace, snuggling until late in the morning, that joy was unparalleled.

Preparing meals together, snuggling on the couch as one napped and the other read, random chit-chat about some curious thing that happened at work throughout the week; these were all simple moments, but things you yearned for when you had to be apart because of work.

You enjoy watching the sunset with Alhaitham, sitting down on the ground, surrounded by the smell of the grass and dirt. Waiting until the moon rose high as you listened to him narrate bits of poetry in languages you could only dream of learning.

As you worked around in the kitchen with him, preparing dinner, you smiled contentedly.

"I love you," you mummer.

A soft kiss lands atop your head as Alhaitham continues to work around you, leaving you grinning brighter than ever.

"I love you lots," you say amidst your soft chuckles.

"I love you too," Alhaitham smiles back. "More than words could ever express."

"Really?" You cock an eyebrow playfully, not bothering to hide how his words made you soar over the moon.

"Really," he says, not minding your playfulness. "I could use all the words I know, speak all the languages I can, and it still wouldn't suffice to express what you make me feel, how happy you make me."

Alhaitham turns towards you, devoting his utmost attention to you. "Your laugh, your smile, your voice, your eyes, they will always be more beautiful than any language, any poetry that the world has to offer. You are the language I love most, and the only one I want to remain fluent in until my time runs out."

a/n : I previously wrote this drabble (a quiet love) for alhaitham and enjoyed writing it a lot, so I wanted to write more for him (I'm definitely not biased.... okay maybe a tiny bit hehe—); but yeah, I really like the idea of alhaitham following the 'actions speaks louder than words' if it wasn't already obvious

→ this fic was the (3+1) kinda type, or well, I had that in mind when writing it; dunno if it was noticeable or not lmao

p/s : now that my senior year of highschool started, I might be a bit irregular at posting (not that I actually wrote consistently before—), but I don't have too hard courses this semester, so who knows I actually might be a tiny bit consistent; but yeah you get the point right?

[leaf-line]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Yandere! Dr Ratio x Gn! Reader

❏ You and Dr Ratio bakes cake after your milestone! All harmless, absolutely nothing bad will happen!

cw: invasion of privacy, implied isolation, people pleaser reader, mentions of insecurities and mental illnesses, suicide.

w/c: 2,856

"I'm starting to see your improvements." Ratio hums, sounding pleased, which is rare for him to do, but it's not impossible.

Contrary to his calm demeanor, you were emotional.

"That's all you could say!? This is big! This is a big deal!!" You cried out, snatching the papers—the fruits of your labor, the results of your hard, hard work—from Veritas.

Your heart was thumping so loudly. It was as if all your red blood cells received glucose simultaneously.

"I can't believe... I got high scores on all tests... All in a row..." You weep out of joy seeing all of them be above the number of 95. You could let your knees fall to the ground and start having a breakdown to release all the stress kept up in your years of living. "My life... Is fulfilled... Suffering... Is no more... Augh—" You state dramatically, Ratio could only scoff at your s-tier performance.

"It is a feat for a person like you. However, this is not the ending point for you to cry out of joy; there's always more to strive for and be better at. The room isn't that small. There's still more for improvement. However... You did great, I'm proud of you for that." He lectures as if to say 95 isn't enough and you need full scores, but honestly, you can't even be mad at him.

After all, he was the one who pushed you to achieve something such as this. If it weren't for him, you'd be nothing but a plain potato who didn't achieve anything meaningful.

A genius prodigy such as him could easily turn a useless stone like you into a shining diamond. You felt grateful.

"Ahaha..." You laugh ironically. "But thanks, it's all thanks to you, you should be proud." You wipe your tears eyes with a finger, then smile brightly at him.

He said nothing, and you grinned. Maybe it was because your smile was so contagious he was stunned, but then again, you don't know what's going on behind that mask of his. You could only see him turn his head away from you.

You wanted to know truly if he's fond of you or not.

Your tutor... No, rather, your friend Ratio was someone you never expected to get along with. Rather, you were extremely opposed to the idea, and perhaps, even was he.

Recalling back to that time, both of you first met... Wasn't exactly the best first impression...

"Welcome, Sir Veritas Ratio. Meet my child... [Name], please take care of them from now on. They might be a little... Uneducated, but I hope that you can help them with that." Your mother pushes your back towards him, in which you internally scowl in return.

You eyed him. He looked rather young to be your tutor.

"Ah, and I couldn't help but notice that both of you are the same age. If that is the case, then I hope that the both of you will get along well!" Your mother cheerfully says so.

You doubted that heavily.

That's because you did your research before meeting him in person.

A lot of people said that the prodigy was cruel, relentless, and maybe even sadistic. And the list goes on. The most positive and recurring mentioned trait of his was being academically talented.

As soon as your mother left you with him, you felt vulnerable, as if you were out in the open and someone was ready to stab you with words like knife, take for example; the person in front of you.

You try to pace down your heartbeat to not overthink it... It works.

It's fine, it's fine, he's a prodigy, surely he knows about the fact of how the human heart is delicate and needs to be handled carefully. What's the worst he could say to you out loud?

No matter what it is, you won't let it reach you!

"Hey... You." He calls out, you prepare yourself.

There's no way he's gonna be 'that' cruel to you... Right? You both just met.

"Have you taken a shower? You stink."

...

A part of you cracked.

"Let's move on quickly, I don't have time to deal with idiots such as you."

And it cracks again.

Yeah... It wasn't the best, but at least he doesn't say that anymore. In fact, it helped you that he said that, since you don't neglect hygienic activities as much anymore. But as Professor Veritas Ratio once said, 'Don't dwell in the past for long,' let's focus on the future and present!

Since this is a milestone for you, you should gift Dr Ratio with a thank you.

"I'm in no need of your services. This feat was only achieved through your hard work. You should treat only yourself." He said out of nowhere.

"Wait— H-How did you even—"

"Your face said it all."

"Huh???"

Dr Ratio seems to have a knack for using his hidden mind-reading powers on you. You don't like that. You'll always feel vulnerable to him every time at this point.

"Ah... Too bad... I was gonna make myself some homemade cake and share it with you... Too bad you don't want it. I guess I'll just stick to being lonely and take it all for myself." You puff out, obviously picking on him.

"Then let me help you, for all I could know, the house might be burned down before you can even bake one successfully." He replies back with no remorse.

"How rude!"

You end up baking at his home.

You simply didn't want the place to be yours since your mom is gonna be there saying you're wasting your time doing all this, so it's gonna be annoying.

And so you're there, stirring a bowl with a whisk, while there's Ratio holding out the instructions. You can't lie; he looks kinda cuter with that apron he's wearing if only his strange plaster sculpture weren't covering his appearance.

"You know... Veritas... You can remove that mask off. Since... Ya know? We're baking."

"Focus on the task at hand."

"Damn..."

You were silenced immediately, so you carefully put down the bowl, ——albeit with a trembling hand that made you feel pathetic——, to move over to the chopping board with the bowl of strawberries that you're gonna cut. You reach out for the knife

...If not for Dr Ratio intervening.

"Let me handle that." He says, practically shoving you away from the chopping board. He takes the knife and chops it with ease despite wearing that weird sculpture on his head. You wonder if he can see with that.

"Woah... Are you worried about me accidentally cutting myself?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

"I didn't know you actually cared for me, Professor Veritas... Hmmm, but I suppose you can't help it; after all, I'm the cutest and the best student ever had, aren't I?" You bat your eyelashes for the sake of sarcasm.

"Perhaps."

"...Eh?"

Too blunt, you feel your cheeks burning up.

You wonder if he's just playing along with your sarcasm because there is absolutely no way that's the case.

"I'm not playing around with your jokes. I'm simply laying out the possibility."

"There you go... Using your mind reading powers again..."

"It's not that hard to do if you have two eyes and a brain."

"I have a brain too... Not everyone can exactly know what a person is thinking just by looking at their face and expression."

"I doubt both of those statements."

"...Okay, rude."

"It's not about skills, actually; you're just an open book."

"Am I really??"

You hum, seeing him chop the strawberries more efficiently than you ever could. You know all well you'd cut it clumsily, then they'd end up looking like you've beaten them to mashes. You walk to the over to preheat it while he does his own thing. You gaze at the warm light.

"This cake is just for the two of us. I can't really share it with anyone else. If only I could, I would." You murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling close enough to him to tell him your issues occurring these days. You stand up to walk over next to him.

"...Why is that?"

"Everyone at the campus... Ignores me. I don't know why." You say, your expression showing one of disheartened, but you bothered to put up a smile. "I know, I know, I shouldn't be bothered with this minimalistic stuff." You chuckle.

"... Human life inevitably takes the form of a struggle against loneliness. We reach out to others in order to avoid sinking into complete isolation. However, although they might provide us with some degree of consolation and felt connection, our loneliness is something that can never be overcome. Therefore, you have the right to be bothered by it. Even if everyone on your campus notices you, you'll still end up feeling lonely."

"So... You're telling me my feelings don't matter even if I single myself out?"

"You have me, don't you?"

"Woah??"

"Don't go around putting random ideas in your head. It's just, if you ever feel like you're the only person existing in the universe, remember me." He placed down the knife to lightly pat your head.

"..." It was as if you remember something foul, you feel your smile fading for a bit. "You know, I wondered if people avoid because they think I'm annoying. Do you find me annoying too Dr Ratio?" You humor a question.

"I'd be lying if I said not entirely."

"And here I thought you were trying to comfort me." You laugh, taking the strawberries he chopped and mixed it with the other ingredients. You think carefully on what you're about to say next.

"There was this one guy named [____], he thinks I'm annoying but... We... 'Talked' everyday, but one day he just suddenly killed himself." You wonder if you were the reason, though it's too far fetched, you still felt guilty.

"...i see, but you shouldn't blame yourself. It's not your fault, he must've had his own problems." He says... For some reason, you felt like he sounded awfully guilty too.

"...You're right."

You glance back at your baking progress only to see that it's already prepared for the oven. "Oh... It seems like we were taking too much I didn't even realize."

"Focus. Place that in the oven for 40 minutes." He orders, you nod and follow obediently.

As that was done, you breathe out a sigh. "Where's your bathroom?" You ask.

"Go to that hallway, you'll find it eventually."

You didn't bother to ask more and marched straight into it.

Whilst walking, you find... His room, no, it might be an office knowing who he is.

Your curiosity lead to dumb decisions such as this one, so you open the door which was surprisingly open. The room felt fancy and professional, you felt like you were a dirt intruding inside a perfectly clean place.

The walls were decorated with a bunch of awards, eight doctoral degrees, outstanding achievements in the fields of biology, medicine, natural theology, philosophy, mathematics, physics, and engineering— ah, you felt dizzy.

"Uwah..." You felt jealous, though it must've been stressful and uneasy to achieve all this. You send a regard in your mind for him, hoping that he didn't stress all this too much.

You wonder why you were even next to him, how could you even stand next to someone such as him, it felt like something out of fantasy, only someone with the same level as him should he be talking to. You were a simpleton compared to him.

Being in character of a simpleton, a stupid, brainless simpleton, you dig more on his room, to that resulted of you seeing a notebook placed on a desk. "Looks important... Is this his diary or something?"

Despite saying that, you still flipped the notebook into a page, reading it...

[Name] [Last Name]

Home Planet: Cosmos

Gender: [______]

Species: Human

Height: [______]

Weight: [______]

Address: [______]

Social Security Number: [______]

Birthdate: [______]

Collage Campus: [______]

Degree: [______]

Average Grade: 57% —> 96%

Biological Parents:

Mother: [______] - Occupation: The IPC Strategic Investment Department

Father: [______] - Deceased

Huh? Isn't this your... Private information... Why... Is it in his handwriting...? Your hand reluctantly flips to the next page.

[Name] [Last Name]'s history with their mother isn't difficult to understand, they're not fond of their mother for the sole reason of abandonment and high expectations, their mother does not have the time to raise a child for she is busy working for the IPC. However, she holds high expectations for [Name] despite not teaching them and leaving them to fend for their own without help, naturally, [Name], without tools, [Name] learned nothing and struggled to understand the materials exposed to them. With no choice left, their mother found a teacher that will help them raise up to her expectations.

I do not understand why she chose me out of everyone, perhaps because of the same age we have, but unlike them, my standards were advanced, choosing me will only cause [Name] to struggle more, I feel bad, so I set my teachings to them to be more tame and easy to understand, but difficult enough for them to improve even slightly, but to my utter surprise, they followed along with it. Not to say that they didn't struggle, in fact, they struggled greatly, but despite that, they pursued the materials. Despite their many flaws, they strive for the betterment of themselves.

Struggles and insecurities, they suffer from anxiety and depression, for one, they struggle to be hygienic and procrastinate, they prefer to relax and wallow on their own self pity rather than choose to study, they have a rather low view of themselves and low confidence, dead honest about thinking that they're a hopeless idiot, however they cover the fact that they think of that by joking around and putting up a false confidence to everyone. They care about the well-being of other people more than themselves. On the other hand, they feel the fear from failure, evident by how their hand trembles whenever they feel like—

Enough. You felt cold sweat dripping on you face. That's... Too much, he isn't supposed to know all this. It's you personal thing. How did he even...

You don't why, you really don't know why you still haven't left the notebook alone and left the room, you don't know why you still flipped to the next page.

Spreading rumors about them weren't difficult, as it seems like all those people are easily swayed by simple words, however, through that action, [Name] regretfully became a target of bad intent. Through pros and cons, I conclude that it was worth it, the sight of [Name] relying on me is ever so priceless.

[____], a wretch, a classmate of [Name], bullying [Name] over his own insecurities, rather than taking it out on something else, he takes out his pent up stress on other people, [Name] being the victim. [Name] seems to have noticed this, so rather than telling people of fighting back, they endured it, telling nobody about it (even me). I have a speculation that they simply endured it with a naive thought of helping that ignorant wretch.

He appears to have a delicate ego and heart, as it turns out he was taking it out on [Name] simply because he admired me and thinking that it should be him that I should be teaching rather than [Name]. As said, he had a delicate ego and a delicate heart, so it wasn't difficult to shatter it into pieces. I admit, though immoral, I found his dismay satisfying, ignorant people like him deserved to jump off that building—

You head snapped to the door and you felt a chilling sensation on your spine.

No longer wearing his mask, his head leaned onto the doorframe.

You drop the note book on the floor, seeing as pictures of you that were stuck on that note book to fly and scatter on the ground.

"Had fun reading? Were even in terms of privacy, did I ever tell you that you can meddle with my notes?" He questioned, his face showed no emotion.

"...Why— Why would y-you—?" You felt tears invade your vision, you heart being constricted.

"I take it were gonna have a long conversation later? No, actually..." He says, getting closer to you, you instinctively take the same steps back.

He gets closer and closer until your back is facing the wall, he placed a hand to obscure your vision. Perhaps the reason he covers his face around you, is because he's just as an open book as you when he's around you, he can't have you seeing his overly infatuated expression, even after he was trying so hard to hide it.

"Let's settle this short, right here, right now, I'll tell you everything. We have 25 minutes left, can't have the cake burning in the oven for too long can we?"

a/n: fun fact! just in case you missed it, at the first part of this short story, dr ratio subconsciously turned his head away from you because he was flustered by your gratefulness for him, sorry if it sounded like a vent at some parts, idk what occurred to me 💀, maybe it's because dr ratio is ironically my comfort character, i hate people like him irl but...

[sydnikov]

Donut || M. Knies

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Matthew Knies / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Figure skating is no longer a sport you compete in, the decision to quit having been made years and years ago, but the magic you feel everytime you step on the ice will never fade. It’s why you coach in Toronto, but you’ve never coached at the Toronto Maple Leafs’ practice arena before—Matthew Knies just so happens to see you on your very first day, and is immediately obsessed. His charm and wittiness win you over easily, even though you’re apprehensive at the start.

Warnings: Cursing, kissing, kinda bad proofreading, and a disgusting amount of fluff

A/N: The hockey player x figure skater trope nobody asked for except it’s written by someone who *actually* figure skates 🤭 This is so silly and way too cute omg but it’s for @lifeofpriya for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! <3

Cold. So cold.

It’s the first feeling your body registers as the shrill sound of your alarm blares through the quietness of your small apartment on a dark, dreary December day in Toronto.

You quickly pick up your phone from the nightstand it was charging on, eyes shrivelling shut at the brightness before you turn off the alarm. Once it’s off, you take a moment to contemplate why you make yourself do this after so many years but never bring yourself to quit.

Figure skating. Your lifeline and also your death sentence—at least you’re convinced it will be, eventually.

It’s the only thing that makes your five-thirty in the morning wake-up worth it, even as you remove yourself from the warmth of your bed.

You’re convinced you can see your breath once you turn on the light in your bathroom, holding back a shiver as you tie your hair back to brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s better to just start getting ready immediately, a routine you picked up way back in your early skating days, lest you fall back asleep.

Growing into your teens, you found it harder and harder to put yourself through the gruelling early hours that competitive figure skating requires, and there were only so many laps of power pulls you could take in punishment for being late before you had to come up with a solution to keep to your schedule.

Dragging yourself out of bed the moment you become conscious is, unfortunately, the only solution that worked, and still is, unfortunately, what you do now even though your own competition days are over.

You don’t skate for you, really, not anymore; you skate for your students, all five of them that you coach at different times throughout the week. Anna, the sixteen year-old girl who you have at eight o’clock sharp this day, is your only source of motivation as you finish your makeup and hair for the lesson.

Normally you don’t bother with a super kept-up appearance for your coaching lessons, but this day in particular has you coaching at a brand new rink, and you figure that first impressions to whoever you may or may not meet will matter.

The rink you usually coach at - an older place that’s definitely seen finer days and on the outskirts of Toronto but close to you - is finally being put out of its misery, as you like to say.

(It’s just getting a well-deserved renovation.)

An hour later, you’re all bundled up and ready to face the frigid Toronto air that awaits you. You have on three top layers total: a normal long-sleeved shirt, a thick jacket, and then your winter coat on top. You then have leggings to skate in with sweats over top to brave the elements, and those along with your coat come off once you get to the rink.

As you step out into the hallway which immediately opens to the outdoors, you quickly lock up before shoving your gloved hands in your pockets and swiftly make your way to the train that’s supposed to get you to your new rink.

Actually getting on and boarding is the easiest part; it’s so early in the morning that few occupants means little waiting time, one of the only saving graces of waking up at such an ungodly hour.

Once you’re settled, you plug in your earbuds and wait out the forty-five minute ride to your new rink.

“Morning,” The employee attending the front desk greets you after you walk into the rink, a little less than an hour later. “You have a pass?”

Your attempt at a smile is feeble, it still too early for you to bother putting on a social facade. “I’m a coach, I have a lesson here in twenty minutes.” You hold up the pass you printed out days in advance after registering on their website, transferring all the required credentials from your old rink.

The woman, probably about ten years older than you and looking just as exhausted as you feel, scans the barcode on your pass and waves you on. “Women’s locker rooms are down the hall on the right, there’s a door to the training rink in there too.”

“Thank you,” You say before following her directions, briefly admiring all of the Maple Leafs memorabilia covering the walls and ceiling.

Growing up, you never got into hockey—figure skating was your whole life and completely revolved around it, so any hobbies you picked up were separate from the ice entirely.

You did it for your sanity, but also because like most skaters, you grew to be annoyed by hockey players’ obnoxious presence. Not only were they cocky, but they tore up the ice with their complicated drills that zamboni refreshings never quite covered.

Stepping into the women’s locker room, you stopped in awe at how updated and nice it was. Fresh paint, large toilet stalls and showers, even the floors didn’t have you cringing at the thought of walking on them without your guards on.

Now, there’s still very much a hockey theme present; you suppose you weren’t going to escape that here with it being their practice rink, and all. You weren’t exactly happy to learn that tidbit of information, but at least you have early lessons, so the crowds that likely always show up wouldn’t be here at seven-thirty in the morning.

It’s five minutes later that your student for this session, Anna, saunters in, skates already adorned in a cute workout set that as a teen you would have loved, but now in your twenties find it wouldn’t keep you warm enough.

She looks as if she could take on the world, bright-eyed and full of youthful energy you admire her for having so early in the day.

Geez. You sound like you’re fifty.

“Good morning, Anna,” You greet her, sending her a smile as you quickly go through some stretches to get your legs warmed up. “Ready to get choreographing? I have about half of your long done so far.”

A long program, or a free skate, is a four minute routine that all types of skaters have for competitions. It requires a balance of all the technical elements like jumps and spins but also artistry, or how well one performs to the music.

It’s your least favorite type of program because it takes the most amount of time to perfect and is also hell to perform; if you think four minutes doesn’t sound that bad, imagine having to fly across the ice at top speeds all while maintaining elegance, power, and accuracy in every movement you do—all on blades.

“I’m so excited,” Anna replies, clapping her hands together. “I’ve been listening to my music nonstop since, like, you first suggested it to me.”

“That was over a month ago before we even settled on it!” You laugh, finally joining her in putting your skates on.

While you don’t skate professionally anymore, you still have a pair of skates you use when you actually feel like skating for fun—the skates you can safely jump and spin on. The skates you wear for coaching, an extremely worn-down pair that looks off-white now with the leather peeling off on the sides, have most definitely seen better days.

But they’re extremely comfy and perfect for recreational skating, which is all you do while coaching and is why you keep them.

“Alright,” You finally say, standing up and rubbing your hands over your arms which are slightly cold in your jacket now that your coat has come off. “Let’s go. You’ve skated here before, right?”

“Mhm!” She answers, leading the way out of the locker room and into the rink, the fresh ice glistening in the early sunlight coming from the windows up high. “I haven’t skated in this rink though. There’s like four in here and they’re open on different days.”

“You’ll have to show me the ropes one day,” You muse, following your student’s lead as she steps onto the bench, removing her guards before stepping onto the ice.

You don’t really have any intention of coming here unless you have to coach, though.

“Okay, then!” You announce, smoothly stepping onto the ice and gliding towards Anna who is getting ready to warm up. “I want you to warm up your edges, as well as your single jumps, got it?”

Anna salutes, not mockingly but rather endearingly. “Yes ma’am!” As she immediately takes off, you do your own on-ice warm up, though much less intense than hers.

While you won’t be skating her program fully - as in, doing the jumps and spins it requires - you do have to show her the footwork, which requires your body to be properly warm for all the edge work and artistry.

The ice lost its magic for you long ago, when skating became more about winning than having fun. Nonetheless, you still find satisfaction in the deep ripping sound as your blades sink into the ice, a sign of strong edges and good technique drilled into you at a young age.

As you go through your own warm up, you swing your arms up and around your chest loosely, trying to get your whole body as pliant as possible. While you do so your eyes wander, peering through the windows curiously.

The rink still isn’t full yet; you see only a mom and two little girls, an older man with his wife, and a group of maybe four men who had just walked in.

“I’m ready!” Anna suddenly announces, gaining back your attention as she skids to a quick stop in front of you. “Want me to plug in the music?”

“Nah, there’s no need,” You reply. “I can just play it on my phone. It’ll get too chaotic with it playing over the speakers.”

She nods in return, and you gesture with an arm to follow you to the center of the ice. “Alright, I have you starting here in the middle, but it doesn’t need to be exact because I’m having you do toepick steps in a spiral pattern…”

Meanwhile, Matthew Knies is cold. He should be used to it by now, but he was born and raised in Arizona where temperatures rarely drop below fifty degrees Fahrenheit during the day in winter. In Toronto, however, where a good day is above ten degrees?

He’ll just say he’s gotten used to his teammates teasing him when he shows up to practice bundled up in five layers of coats. His Slovakian ancestors would be ashamed.

This day is no different; stepping into the familiar practice arena for his team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, alongside some of his closer friends on said-team: Joe, Auston, and their captain, John. Matthew holds his arms close to his body, ignoring the snickers from Joe.

“Hey, it’s only negative six today! That’s five degrees higher than yesterday!”

Matthew looks at his friend with wide eyes. It only takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the temperature in Celcius, not Fahrenheit.

“I still don’t know what that means in Fahrenheit,”

Joe laughs again, bumping their shoulders together as John and Auston check in at the front desk for them. “It’s really not that different once you learn, you know,”

“Another day, Joe, another day,” Matthew laments, laughing himself as Joe rolls his eyes. He holds back his chirp when John whistles for the two to follow, already several steps ahead of them.

Conversation forgotten, the four make their way to the assigned practice rink they’ll be using for the day. They’re one of the first groups to arrive, as the place is practically deserted at seven-thirty in the morning.

Matthew pulls his phone out of his pocket for a moment to scroll through his notifications, blindly following his teammates. He’s steadily ignoring them until Joe suddenly groans, the goalie swearing under his breath.

“Man, there’s gonna be holes all over the ice now—”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He laughs, only looking up to follow his friend’s gaze to where only two girls take up the ice. He immediately spots the figure skating blades and fully plans on teasing Joe about being afraid of some toe picks until one of the girls suddenly turns, and he immediately has the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Her face is flushed, likely from a mixture of the cold and skating, and her hair has tiny flyaways that she keeps trying to brush away. She’s also clearly a coach based on her coat that has ‘COACH’ in big, bold letters across the back. She’s doing some complicated, confusing footwork all up on the toe pick until stepping out, all long legs and loose arms.

Matthew’s throat dries up. She looks like an angel.

“Now, the fuck are you talking about—”

“That’s my wife.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, Joe, that’s my wife.”

“Hey Cap, did you know that Matty was married because I sure as hell didn’t?”

“No, shit, I mean,” He can’t find the right words to speak, too enraptured with the sight of the mystery woman (his future wife) gliding across the ice. “Tell the boys I’ll be right there? Thanks!”

He’s vaguely aware of Joe shouting something as he briskly walks away, but he only has eyes for you, the mysterious angel on ice.

Anna is currently running through the first twenty seconds of her program that you’ve taught so far, you standing at the boards right by the sound booth as if you were actually playing her music. She’s on the last part of the sequence, a spiral - a move where a skater raises one leg high in the air, upper body as parallel to the ice as possible - and her posture is stiff, but she seems to know that and corrects it herself before you have to.

Your back is to the glass, leaning against it casually. The door to the rink also happens to be right next to you, but you don’t notice until movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. You’re used to parents lurking, especially Anna’s, but when you allow yourself to look you quickly realize it’s definitely not a parent.

A man, tall and broad-shouldered, adorned in what looks like three or more coats, stares at you expectantly. There’s a half-smile on his face that immediately puts you on edge because no one should be that happy at eight o’clock in the morning.

Anna just so happens to finish and rushes to the bench for a water break, which is the only reason you allow your focus from her to divert to him. “Can I help you?” You frown, very aware you come across as standoffish.

He doesn’t seem deterred. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” His voice is warm and slightly sheepish, and his hands are shoved deep into his coat pockets like he’s still not entirely sure why he’s here.

“I’m in the middle of coaching right now,” You state slowly, as Anna begins to make her way back to you. You go to say something else, but she taps you on the shoulder before you get the chance to. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” She whispers, looking all too happy to leave you alone with him before she skates away without giving you a chance to respond, again.

Anna tends to do that a lot. Knowing her, she’s already planning your wedding.

Resisting the urge to get off the ice yourself, you turn back to the mystery man whose attention is still undeniably on you. “Do you need something, or…?”

“Not really, just… watching,” He says with a shrug. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the tips of his shoes barely scraping against the edge of the ice. “You’re good, by the way. Both of you. That—uh, what’s it called? The thing with the leg up? Looks impossible.”

You blink. “A spiral.”

“Right. Spiral. Cool.” He nods like he’s just learned some very important information, and you feel the corner of your mouth twitch against your better judgment.

“Do you… play here?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the rink. A silly question on your end because you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.

“Hockey,” He says quickly, almost like it’s an apology. “I’m Matthew. I play for the Leafs,” He points a thumb over his shoulder, where a few of who you assume to be his teammates are slowly trickling out of a locker room. Most look tired, some half-watching, half-laughing about something.

Of course he’s a hockey player. You almost forgot you were at an NHL team’s official practice arena.

“Right,” You say curtly, briefly looking for Anna who still has not returned. “Well, my student still hasn’t come back, but we’re almost done, anyways. You’ve got the ice in ten, I think.”

“I wasn’t rushing you or anything,” Matthew says quickly, taking a step closer. “Not that I really can. My coaches tell us when to get on and off. I was just… watching. Figure skating’s kind of cool. A lot like hockey, I mean, but I still don’t know anything about it.”

“I can tell,” You mutter under your breath.

He laughs, and it catches you off guard—low, easy, and a little self-deprecating. “Fair enough. I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to say hi, I guess. I haven’t seen you here before.”

It’s extending an olive branch on his part, leaving it up to you to introduce yourself or not. You debate skating away again, but he’s still smiling, eyes hopeful, and you don’t have it in your heart to do anything cruel.

“It’s my first lesson here,” You admit. “I’ll be coming here a lot more, now.” You finally give your name, offering your gloved hand for him to shake with your own sheepish smile. His hand dwarfs yours easily, and despite the fact he’s also wearing gloves you can still feel the heat from his skin seeping into yours.

Matthew looks as if he’s won the lottery. “I’ll see you, yeah?” You nod, unsure what to make of him as he makes his way back to his teammates. You gather your phone and coat from the bench, sparing one last glance his way again who is now standing with his teammates, but he’s not laughing along with them. He’s watching you.

You force yourself to ignore it, swiftly turning back around and stepping off the ice. But there’s something about the way his gaze lingers, like this wasn’t just a one-off conversation to him. Like maybe he’ll be back for more.

You don’t run into Matthew again for a week, and you definitely weren’t looking for a glimpse of him each time you had a lesson. You definitely didn’t take to Google in-between spare moments, searching him up on the Toronto Maple Leafs’ roster.

And you definitely, one-hundred percent did not come to the rink on a random Tuesday morning when you didn’t even have a lesson to skate on your own, just for the opportunity to run into him again.

Really, you don’t even know why. You’ve messed around with hockey players when you were younger, sure, because it was definitely convenient, but you never saw it as serious. You’re not sure why subconsciously, you think this one is different.

The cold air bites at your cheeks as you step onto the ice, smooth and untouched, a blank canvas. You take a deep breath, your warm exhale visible in the chill, and launch into your warm-up. While not nearly as intense as it used to be, you still like to keep up most of your skills—particularly, your spins.

Unlike a lot of skaters, you always hated jumps. You always loved spinning more, any and all types, and used those in your programs while jumps were always included at the bare minimum. You’ve just always hated chucking yourself into the air, never quite trusting your body to land on a singular toepick without fault. It’s one of the reasons you quit competitive skating after so many years.

The rink is nearly empty, though—just you and two others. You only plan on skating for an hour or two, even though freestyle sessions can last much longer.

You’re midway through alternating backwards power pulls - on one foot, skating left to right in half-swizzle shapes - when you notice him.

He’s sitting on top of the bench on the far side of the rink, wearing a backward cap and a hoodie that’s definitely not designed for the cold. His skates dangle off the edge of the bench as if he’s not quite committed to stepping onto the ice yet. His hair sticks out in every direction, the messy, effortless kind that probably takes zero effort but makes him look infuriatingly good.

It’s Matthew, you recognize without a doubt. Your heart jumps out of your chest, and you try to play it cool like he hasn’t probably already noticed he’s been spotted. You try to ignore him, moving onto your spins, but there’s a prickle of awareness every time you pass his side of the rink. He’s not just watching—he’s studying.

Randomly, you decide to mess with him. There’s a spin you love where you have to contort your body in an oddly flexible way, and you’ve noticed more than once how people will always stop in their tracks to watch. It forms the shape of a donut, hence the name ‘donut spin.’

You skate to the middle, the designated area for spins, decision quickly made. You have to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face at the thought of what look would be on his. Attracted, or impressed? Maybe both?

Taking a deep breath, you tighten your arms, engage your core, and take a strong step forward. Dipping slightly, you bend your knees just enough to gather momentum, shifting your weight to your left leg, having your right leg extend behind you in a straight line. Your arms sweep in, crossing over your chest, as you begin to rotate. Your vision blurs at the edges, moving too fast to make out even a shape. You feel the pull of centrifugal force, letting the spin tighten and quicken as with practiced motion, you reach down toward your left ankle, your fingers brushing the fabric of your leggings as your body folds. Your head dips low, and your extended leg arcs upward behind you, a perfect curve in the air. The donut shape then forms easily, your body compressed into a spinning circle. Your thighs burn but you welcome it, knowing it means you’ve locked in the position. Your blade scratches against the ice as you count your rotations, getting about five in before your body really starts to protest.

Quickly beginning to tire, you let the spin slow as you begin to rise. Uncurling like a ribbon unwinding, you let your right leg drop and open your arms, checking out of the spin. Your vision sharpens again, your surroundings coming back into view, and the first thing you do is shoot a quick glance towards where you last saw Matthew.

Just as you expected, his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. This time you let the smile come to your face, close-lipped but no less genuine, and watch as his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.

Knowing without a doubt that he’ll be the one coming over to you, you skate to a stop near the boards to grab your water bottle. You hear more so than see how he pushes himself up and strides over, his skates clinking against the ice.

“You’re insane,” Matthew says by way of greeting, his words almost breathless.

You grin, knowing exactly what he means. “Excuse me?”

“That spin you just did.” He gestures vaguely towards center ice. “You just completely folded in half. What is that?”

One of your brows lifts, feigning disinterest, though you think he knows you’re amused. “A donut spin. It’s my favorite,”

He leans against the boards, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A donut spin, huh? So, out of all the moves—jumps, spins, whatever—that’s your go-to?”

You nod, trying to hold back a grin. “Yup. I was never much of a jumper.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that before,” He says with a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I half-expected something dramatic, like a quad jump, or something.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Quad jumps are dramatic—and borderline impossible. I prefer spins that don’t require me to risk my life.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew replies, tilting his head as though he’s reevaluating you. “Obviously, I don’t jump, unless I’m checking somebody. Then I don’t mind coming off my feet a bit.”

You make a show out of looking him up and down, laughing internally as he seems to stand up straighter at your appraising gaze. “Makes sense. You look like you’d be violent out there.”

He takes a step closer, causing you to have to tilt your head back just slightly. He is, unfortunately, much taller than you. “Really?” He asks, voice low. “What gives it away?”

“Um,” You lose your words for a moment, tongue-tied at his sudden proximity. “Everything, honestly. I’ve seen you skate—like you’ve got a grudge against every guy who's not on your team.”

It’s Matthew’s turn to be caught off guard, though it quickly turns to cockiness that has you rolling your eyes. “You’ve seen me skate? How? When?”

“I may or may have not looked you up online.”

“Oh. So not in person?”

“Nope. I don’t watch hockey.”

“You should change that, actually watch one of our games,” He suggests, grinning. You’re starting to suspect he’s someone who always has a smile on his face. “I’ll score a goal for you.”

This time you don’t bother holding back your laugh. “That’s a whole lot of assurance for a sport that’s mostly luck.”

If possible, his grin widens at your doubt. “I’ll make you a deal,” He says, taking another step closer with a casual confidence that’s starting to feel dangerous. “Watch one of our games, and I’ll score a goal just for you. I’ll even call it a donut goal. Maybe the name will pick up.”

You shake your head, astounded by his personality that miraculously is starting to win you over. “A donut goal?”

“Yeah,” He replies, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Because of your spin. It’ll be my inspiration. What do you say?”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes, and you hate how much you’re already considering it. “That sounds ridiculous,” You giggle.

“Just one game! You watch, I score, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to watch hockey again.”

It’s annoyingly tempting, the way he pitches it. And maybe part of you is curious—curious enough to nod before you can talk yourself out of it. “I guess… Just don’t, like, hurt yourself doing something stupid.”

Matthew’s grin turns triumphant, like he’s just won a championship. “Deal. I’ll let you know which game to tune into.” He goes to skate away, but then quickly turns back around before you even get the chance to turn away yourself.

“Uh… Can I get your number?” He blurts. “For the game.”

“Of course,” You smirk, completely aware of his intentions, surprisingly not as frightened as you thought. “For the game.”

You stay on the ice for another hour, though you don’t work on any more spins, and especially not jumps. Instead, you just skate in laps, occasionally switching to a random edge exercise, but mostly gliding. Matthew left the moment he got your number, sending you a stupid donut emoji as his very first message to you.

What you didn’t see is Matthew immediately calling Joe the moment he steps back into the men’s locker room. “Dude, I got her number,”

A scoff can be heard from the other end. “Your skater wife?”

“Yup. I even got her to agree to watch one of our games. I kinda have to put one in the back of the net though?

There’s the sound of something shattering, followed by a curse and then his friend shouting. “You—her—fuck—what?”

He laughs at his friend’s disbelief. “And you thought I couldn’t do it!”

“It was a spiral, actually.” Matthew replies, proud even he remembered the name. He wants to remember every word that comes out of your mouth, made it a goal to do so. He had to wait a week to see you again, constantly searching every corner of the rink whenever he had a moment of alone time, though it’s not like his teammates didn’t know what he was doing.

“Your first conversation with her was asking about a swirly-thingy.” Joe retorts. “Not exactly winning over girls with that one, y’know?”

Joe took the liberty of informing Auston and John, of course, who therefore told the others. He’s still not embarrassed, though.

Not about meeting you.

It does turn out that Matthew is not very good at texting, however. Understandable, because you aren’t either, but his schedule makes it practically impossible. Not that he doesn’t try, but it’s gotten to a point where you’re eagerly awaiting his next message that takes hours to come in, which is strange because it’s not like you’ve even gone on a date with him.

He gets sick of the distance, literally and figuratively, quickly. He first asks to call you at night, when you’re curled up in your bed and he having just gotten back to his apartment from an away game in Ottawa. You reluctantly say yes, not because you don’t want to but because you don’t exactly have a lot to talk to him about when it’s one o’clock in the morning.

Your ringtone is shrill, startling you despite knowing it was coming. You answer immediately, biting your lip when you can hear his breathing audible through the phone.

“Um, Matthew?” You start when he doesn’t say anything. “Are you there?”

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry,” He apologizes, and you can picture the hand running through his hair as he talks. “Would you believe me if I said I was surprised you even picked up?”

You laugh. “No. I don’t answer my phone this late at night for just anyone, you know.”

“Technically it’s early in the morning. Get it? Because it’s—nevermind I’m shutting up now. You picked up just for me?”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t for your jokes,”

“My mom thinks my jokes are hilarious,”

“I think she’s required to say that.”

You and Matthew call pretty often after that, once the ice is broken—pun not intended. Surprisingly, even though you both go to the same rink multiple times a week, neither of you run into each other that often, so calling at night when you’re both free is the solution to that problem. Maybe it’s because your schedules are so different, but you try to fix the new Matthew-shaped hole in your life by following your first ever hockey team on Twitter.

Or X. Or whatever.

You definitely don’t tell him that - his ego is already big enough - but the amount of pictures posted of him keeps you entertained, and very much endears you to the personality you don’t always see, especially around his teammates.

While Matthew isn’t the biggest talker on his team by any means, even he’s surprised by the endless amount of energy he seems to now have. The excitement gets him through the day, his favorite part now being able to go home at night and talk to you.

And finally, after weeks of scheming and talking and definitely falling in love on his end, he has a game in Toronto against a team he’s relatively sure he could probably net one. He texts you the details, and gives you a link to a pirated website you can watch the game on for free.

Hopefully the league doesn’t find out about that one.

He’s so excited, though, and you’re finding it impossible to not match his energy. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t secretly kicking your feet at the thought of him deliberately attempting to score a goal just for you, too. The days before are filled with teasing texts from Matthew, all centered around some mysterious plan involving this so-called ‘donut goal’. Every time you ask him to explain, he evades the question.

“So can you tell me exactly how you’re planning on doing this?” You ask the night before.

“Nope,” He replies smugly. “You’ll just have to watch and find out.”

You snort, leaning back on your couch. “What if you don’t even score?”

“Wow,” He says, feigning offense. “Zero faith in me. That’s harsh, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” You tease, brushing over the ‘babe’ he let slip out. “It’s hockey. You’ve got, like, five guys constantly trying to stop you. Plus the goalie. Odds aren’t exactly in your favor.”

“You’re gonna feel so dumb when I pull it off,” He replies, totally grinning just by the sound of his voice. “Mark my words.”

Despite your best efforts to play it cool, you’re more excited for this game than you’ve ever been for a hockey game in your life, considering you’ve never even watched one before. Your small circle of friends that grew up skating with you don’t even know about your late-night plan; you want to keep Matthew to yourself, almost, keep this new budding relationship small and private, and you think he feels the same.

Before you know it, you’re tuning into the game on a sketchy looking website that Matthew refused to give any extra details on. It works, though, even if it lags every so often, and even shows the commentators on the side as they watch the game, too.

It starts before you know it—tiny players zipping around after an even tinier puck, and trying to locate Matthew on each of his shifts proves to be even more challenging. Every time you manage to spot his number, though, he’s moving with a grace you weren’t expecting, all power and precision as he skates circles around the other team. That isn’t to say he’s indestructible, however, because Matthew takes a shit ton of hits. Every hit leaves you wincing for him, but he gives plenty back in retribution.

He’s captivating to watch, the way he commands attention without even trying. And when he gets the puck, everything seems to shift.

He’s fast—so fast you lose sight of him multiple times as he weaves through defenders. He gets a chance, shoots it, but it goes wide before being collected by the other team, whom you don’t even know the name of. The game goes on like this for the rest of the first and second period, until the third is underway and you still haven’t moved from your spot on the couch, burrowed in a fuzzy blanket, hot chocolate forgotten.

The game is nearly over when it finally happens. A breakaway from the neutral zone, according to the commentators you can barely hear over the blood rushing through your ears, and Matthew again has the puck and breaks away from the defenders, skating with terrifying speed.

The crowd roars as he approaches the goal, and your heart jumps in your chest when you realize this is it. Your eyes are glued to the screen as he circles behind the net in one smooth motion, pulling off a wraparound goal so effortlessly that you don’t even process what’s happened until the puck is in the back of the net.

The volume coming from your laptop fizzles in and out, the arena likely so loud the speakers can barely handle it. You can hear bits and pieces of said-commentators celebrating in shouts, but all you can focus on is Matthew.

Because he’s spinning his hand in a circle—mimicking the shape of a stupid fucking donut—before pointing upwards.

“Oh my god,” You hiss, dropping your face into your hands. “Did he actually just do that?”

You’re mortified, but also—how could you not smile? He skates back to his team on the bench, grinning like he just pulled off the biggest inside joke of his life.

Even though the commentators can’t hear you, their response almost makes you feel they can. “Knies wraps it around, a beaut, and seems to make some circle motion with his hand. A new celly for the forward?”

You’re alone in your apartment, no roommates to worry about hearing you squeal, and the grin on your face impossible to hide. Stunned, mildly embarrassed even if no one else knows that his celebration was for you, and the most surprising thing about it all?

You definitely, without a doubt like Matthew Knies.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re pulling up your text thread with him, your last messages with the player wishing him luck for the game and him saying thanks.

You’re insane, your new text starts with, echoing his words to you after what feels like ages ago. Congrats on the goal though! I’m impressed :) get home safe.

The game is over before you know it, your screen switching from zoomed-in interviews of the players to the commentators instead, going over the stats and noteworthy plays that quickly lose your interest. You keep it on as background noise, though, as you wash and put away your mug used for hot chocolate, wiping down what little mess was left on your counter.

You’re about to close your laptop for the night, too, when the words ‘Knies’ and ‘interview’ appear in the same sentence, immediately capturing your attention.

“It appears that Knies had himself ‘some inspiration’ for tonight’s goal… Check it out here,”

They show his face next, flushed red, drops of sweat trickling down his forehead. He’s in a skin-tight compression shirt that highlights his arms unfairly well, and the grin on his face is unmistakable.

A reporter is seen shoving a microphone into his face, asking about his goal celebration. He leans into it even more, if possible, staring straight into the camera. “I had some inspiration for my celly, yeah,”

“Inspiration from what?” The reporter presses.

“Donuts, actually,” He answers nonchalantly.

“Was that what the circular motion you made was for?”

Matthew chuckles sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He’s about to respond when someone who you assume works for the team taps on his shoulder, cutting the interview short.

“Donuts,” One of the commentators repeats incredulously once the camera is back on them. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“Maybe wraparound goals should be called ‘donut goals’, whaddya think?”

You tune out their chatter, picking up your phone to open Twitter. The only accounts you follow are all Leafs’ related, so you don’t know why it comes as a shock to you when you see multiple posts joking about renaming wraparound goals to donut goals, all because Matthew made a little quip about it.

Unbeknownst to all of them that you were his inspiration to begin with—all to prove a point.

Hockey players, you scoff to yourself. Biggest egos you’ll ever find.

It’s not for another two hours later until he finally texts you back. Not that you were mad, or anything, totally understanding that game nights are always busy, but the message from him catches you off guard.

hi, it starts with. im done with all the press and stuff, team meeting’s done too. can i come see you???

Your eyes are heavy, barely able to form a coherent thought, but you don’t hesitate before responding.

Yeah, I’d like that

Another hour goes by, though, and you’re starting to think he forgot or got bribed into going somewhere to celebrate, and you’re about to call it a night and crawl into bed when there’s a sudden knock at your door, startling you.

You’re positive it’s who you think it is as you rush to your door, but you check your peephole anyway. Standing there, shoulders hunched and beanie drawn so far down over his head that it’s practically covering his eyes, is Matthew.

The door almost hits the wall with how fast you open it. You stare at him, now wide-awake, as he smiles at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“You’re here,” Are the first words you blurt. “You came,”

Matthew’s smile turns soft, taking a small step towards you. “Hi, donut,” He greets. “Sorry I’m late, some fans found me on the way out of the arena…”

Your lips tilt upwards into a smile, amused at his new choice in nickname. “That’s okay,” You say. “You can come in, by the way. Don’t want you freezing.”

He lets out a laugh at that, his breath condensating in the chill. You step to the side and he wastes no time following you in, closing the door politely behind him. Walking back to your couch, you fold up the fuzzy blanket still sprawled across and take a seat, hands bundled in the sleeves of your hoodie. He follows you, but doesn’t take a seat and instead stands awkwardly in front of you, his hands fidgeting slightly as if he’s working up to something.

“Matthew?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “What’s up?”

He bites his lip, looking anywhere but at you until a decision seems to be made, determination settling over his face. He takes a deep breath, crouching down in front of you and placing one of his hands on your knee. Your heart races, breath hitching when his other hand slowly approaches your face, brushing away an errant piece of hair stuck to the side of your cheek.

“I like you. Like, a lot,” Matthew finally blurts. “I know we’ve only known each other for like a month, but when you know, you know. You know? That sounded better in my head, actually. Anyways, I think you’re really cool, and funny, and crazy talented, and not to mention beautiful, and—”

“Matthew—”

“—I think I can make you really happy, if you want, because I really wanna get to know you more—”

“Hey, hey, Matthew, Matty, shut up for just a second, yeah?” You have to grab his face at this point, hands palms cupping his cheeks as you teasingly shake his head. It does the trick, though, and Matthew shuts up with a choked swallow, eyes wide and nervous.

“I didn’t take you for a rambler when I first met you,” You start, one of your thumbs gently brushing his cheek. “You’ve always seemed so confident,”

His face is flushed a brilliant shade of red, and he tries to duck his head despite still being in your hold. However, he’s not complaining. He’d happily let you touch him anywhere you want.

“Only you can bring it out of me, baby,” Matthew’s attempt at flirting is commendable, especially since his voice is all soft, gentle, and vulnerable in the moment. “I think about you all the time. I look forward to calling you every night. And even when I knew you were watching my game, all I could think about is that I wished you were there in person to see it.”

He chuckles then, his free hand coming up to grasp one of yours still holding his face, entangling your fingers together and squeezing before bringing it down to rest in between you. Your foreheads are practically touching, your hand not being held in his moving to cup the back of his neck.

“I’m doing a whole lot of talking here, donut,” He says. “What are you thinking?”

You take a deep breath, shuffling ever so slightly closer. “I’m thinking that I really like you too,” You admit. “You’ve managed to worm your way into my life in only a month and yet I can’t imagine my life without you in it now,”

Matthew is full-on grinning now; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy. “You’re not messing with me? You’re serious?”

“I’ve known for a while now, I think. Just—didn’t know how to say it.” You answer rather bashfully, now your turn for your face to flush red.

For a moment, the two of you are silent. He squeezes your hand every so often, thumb rubbing in gentle circles over the back of yours, and his eyes don’t leave you, not for a single second. You’re so close you can see the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, his slightly chapped lips, his tongue as it comes out to lick them. Your heart races and you can���t come up with any words to cut the tension, but like always, Matthew seems to know just the right thing to say.

“I don’t think I can wait anymore,” He suddenly says, eyes pleading. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod rapidly, sighing out a quick, “Yes,” feeling like you’ll explode if you don’t get the chance to taste him. Expecting something desperate or fast, you’re surprised when he brings his free hand up towards your face, sliding around the back of your neck and tilting your head to the side. He angles you just how he likes, you happy to go along, as he leans in slowly, slowly, slowly…

The first brush of his lips sends a full-body shiver down your spine, a small whimper leaving your lips that Matthew eagerly swallows with a happy sigh of his own. He presses further, his lips pillow-soft and gentle, no desire at all to rush the moment between you.

It’s not fast or frantic. It’s slow, deliberate, and full of everything that’s been building between you two for weeks. You don’t want it to end at all, not after finally having him, but the need to breathe eventually wins over. Matthew follows your lead and rests his forehead against yours, his soft breaths mingling with yours.

It’s intimate, the way your eyes open to look at him, finding the same look mirrored in his own.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” He murmurs, not at all ashamed to admit it. You bury your head in his shoulder, hiding the bashfulness on your face as flustered giggles escape from your lips.

Matthew’s arms immediately come to encircle you, holding you so close to his chest you can almost feel his heartbeat. He moves you to sit on the couch, you happily sitting on his lap. “Aw, don’t hide, donut,” He teases, the grin on his face so obvious by the way he’s speaking.

And because, of course, you’re you, without lifting your head up you quickly pinch his arm, laughing at the squeal you get out of him. “They’re calling wraparound goals donut goals, now, did you see?”

Matthew replies with obvious pride. “Duh. Of course I did. It’s a fantastic rename, in my humble opinion,”

“No wonder your ego is so high if your fans are naming goals after you,”

“You love it though, especially after I just gave you the best kiss of your life—”

“Don’t push it, Matthew.”

A/N: I've never written for Matthew before so I hope his personality isn't too unrealistic, I feel like it gives cheesy hallmark rom-com in the best way possible 🫣 please don't forget to reblog & comment :)

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[leafdoodles]

Long overdue fan art for @watcheraurora’s ranchers superhero au fics because my god have those fics been rattling round my brain at a constant rate.

[sweetmelodygraphics]

[emsdevs]

ELABORATE ON JO PLEASE NOT BC I DONT BELIEVE IT CAUSE I DO BUT JUST BC I NEED IT

a/n: did i just write and post this in my Spanish class? I'll never tell. (yes i did)

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Joseph Woll Masterlist

“How is my wife doing today?”

“I’m not your wife yet, Joey,” you giggle.

“Yeah, but you will be. So you’re my wife.”

“You proposed all of,” you glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, “thirteen hours ago,” you’re full-on belly-laughing now, loving your new fiance’s (husband according to him) way of thinking.

“So, what? Soon enough, we’ll be married, and you’ll be my wife. That’s enough for me,” he shrugs. He leans over burying his face into your neck.

It wasn’t a possessive thing for Joseph. He wasn’t really into that sort of stuff, but just knowing that soon, you would completely belong to one another made his heart swell. His heart is already completely yours, and as conceited as it might sound, he’s never doubted that you feel the same way about him. It just means so much to him that you’re as ready as him to make that commitment to one another. It’s a big promise to make to each other, but it’s the unspoken promises that warm his heart so much.

Agreeing to marry him means so much more than just being legally bound to one another. It means that you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It means that you might want to have a family with him one day, however that family may look. He doesn’t care if it’s kids, dogs, cats, a whole zoo. It doesn’t matter to him. If you want it, so does he. Marriage means that you don’t care about how rough his hockey schedule may get or how beat up he might get from the pucks. It means that you’re willing to take the good with the bad, as long as it’s with him.

He’ll be calling you his wife for as long as he lives because it means so much more to him than you belonging to him. It means he belongs to you. If that makes him wrong, he doesn’t want to be right.

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[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[senditcolton]

Can I please request some soft smut with William Nylander? I know you don’t write for him that much, but I love your writing so much!!

Finally, Finally, Finally

a/n: my dear anon!! thank you for requesting this because it is true, I don't write much for William but I do love him. so this is a wonderful push for me to write some more Willy Styles content. (I know I do at least have one other fic planned out with him, courtesy of my Mamma Mia series [gotta have the Swedes represented for obvious reasons]).

Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut! heavy makeout session, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex. but very sweet and loving smut, as requested!!

You gaze, peaceful, from your spot on the couch at your boyfriend William across the living room. The beer bottle in your hands still cool to touch as you watch him move around your space, vinyl record in his hand. It’s a simple beautiful moment to observe; how he carefully removes the pressing from its sleeve and places it on the turn table. His elegant fingers drop the needle precisely and the small scratch of static hits your ears before the sound of mellow guitars fills the air.

There was a part of you that still didn’t believe this was your life. You certainly didn’t expect it a year ago.

One year to the date, you were sitting in this same living room, playing guitar and trying to take your mind off of the fact that you were alone. Again. Another breakup, another night of wallowing in self-pity. That is, until your friend Stephanie called, inviting you to a local bar with her, Mitch, and a few of their friends. You almost said no. Now, you’re glad you didn’t. Because that was where you met William.

He was charming, sweet, kind. A night you had originally thought would include one or two drinks in one or two hours ended up lasting until last call. That night Will pulled you out to the makeshift dancefloor, spun you in time with the music from the jukebox. He ran through the streets with you in the rain to get to his car. He drove you home and you left him with a kiss on the cheek and your number in his pocket.  

A year. An entire year since that first night and even back then, both of you knew that you shared some special connection, as if the universe planned for you all to meet in that specific moment at that specific place. That’s why earlier tonight, you went to that same bar for the anniversary of the night you met – the night things changed.

Those memories fill you with happiness and contentment, a gentle smile playing at your lips as you watch William turn back to you, a similar expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to walk over to you sprawled out on the couch before coming to a stop in front of you.

Your head tilts in a silent question, one that is answered by Will holding out his hand to you, upturned palm warm and inviting.

“Dance with me?”

The answer is an obvious one, so blatant that you don’t bother giving a verbal reply. You simply take a final sip of your beer and place it on the coffee table before reaching out to him. Your hand slips into his, your skin brushing against the callouses and William’s fingers tighten around you. He helps lift you up onto your feet before guiding you to the empty space of your living room.

Everything about being with William is easy, so it’s no surprise how easy it is to fall into his hold, your arms lifting up to rest on his shoulders as his wrap around your waist. Your eyes take in the sight of him; his bright blue irises, his blonde hair even more golden in the low lamplight of the room, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers, slowly swaying you as the music continues.

“Nothing really,” you reply with a gentle shrug. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How handsome you are. The usual things.”

Your gentle joke pulls a chuckle from William’s chest, his body moving closer to you. You let yourself sink deeper into his hold, your head coming to rest on his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne, matching your heartbeat to his.

“We are pretty lucky,” he muses, the sound of his voice vibrating through his chest. “I sometimes still can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you. And that you took an interest in me.”

His statement causes you to pull your head back, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. It sounded odd, coming from his mouth: the doubt. William sees your bewilderment, offering a gentle smile before he continues.

“Steph told me that you had recently broke up with your ex. That you might not show up. That you weren’t really looking for anything serious. Imagine how it felt, starting the night with that information. Imagine my bewilderment with how the night ended.”

He grins at you, those memories running through his head with the same crystal-clear vision that they had been playing in yours. You return his smile, your hand coming up to cradle his jawline, your thumb gently brushing over the stubble on his cheek.

“It was hard to resist you. Even if I wanted to.”

Your quiet confession dances through the air, mixing with the acoustic guitar still pouring from the speakers. The sound of it hits William’s eardrums and the look he directs your way tells you that it’s the sweetest melody that he has ever heard.

There is no stopping it, the way the two of you lean into each other, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss.

Even though you had shared many kisses in the year you had been dating, you knew that you would never get tired of kissing William. He tasted like summer; like green apples and the promise of something more.

Will’s hands tighten around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your mouth opens in a sigh and he takes the initiative to kiss you deeper, his tongue dancing against yours. It was always impossible to stop the gravity of him, to resist the temptation of falling into his orbit. Not that you ever wanted to.

It is almost blind, the way that William and you stumble back to the couch, lips and bodies still pressed against one another. You only separate when the back of his calves hit the couch cushions, his body sinking onto the sofa while you remain standing. His eyes look up at you, staring at you like you were the most exquisite human in the world. Which, to him, was the truth.

You offer him a slightly mischievous smirk as your hands drop to the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling the fabric from your frame, exposing more of your skin to him. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, the only evident indication of his desire being the way his irises darken when you throw your shirt to the side. You are tempted to kiss him again; to climb into his lap and have him hold you close but you push against that need for a moment. Instead of your hands falling to William like you want them to, they find the button of your jeans, undoing the clasp and zipper before you push them down your thighs.

Finally, you lean forward, your hands resting on Will’s shoulders as you step completely out of your jeans. Will steadies you, his strong hands holding onto your hips, preventing you from tripping on the discarded fabric until you are completely settled in his lap, your legs resting on the outside of his thighs, knees digging into the couch cushions. You smile at him again, your hands drifting up to gently play with the long strands of his hair.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he whispers, his eyes still staring into yours. You weren’t planning on stopping the smile that appears on your face at his words, but even if you were, it would have been in vain. This is the way William loved you; he always stated it as a fact. The sky is blue, the earth is round, you are beautiful, and he loves you.

It was just a list of undeniable truths.

“You’re pretty stunning yourself,” you giggle, leaning in to kiss him again, relishing the way you could feel his smile through the kiss.

The hands that were on your hips start to wander, first moving down to trace over the curve of your ass and down your thighs before retracing their path and continuing upwards. His thumbs caress the cut of your ribcage, the curve of the bone guiding his touch up to your breasts. You can’t help but whimper into the kiss when he traces the outline of your bra, each new edge his fingertips encounter pulling him in a different direction. It’s the most exquisite form of torture, his hands all over your body but never truly touching you.

His fingers move towards your back, tracing up and down your spine once – twice – before he finally grips your bra and effortlessly unclasps it, the fabric loosening. The two of you break away just long enough for you to let the garment fall away. William doesn’t hesitate to lean in, kissing you only once before his lips descend down the column of your throat, across your collarbones and decolletage. You sigh, leaning your head back as he slowly marks you, claiming you as his; a fact that you had never refuted.

One of your hands tangles deeper in his hair, keeping him close to you while the other descends, crossing the planes of his back, gliding over the ridges of his shoulder blades and the cut of his muscles. It’s when Will takes one of your nipples into his mouth that your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, a soft whisper of a moan escaping you.

Through the haze of your pleasure, it slowly dawns on you at how unfair the current situation is: you, sitting on William’s lap with your underwear being the only thing preventing you from being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. You start to tug at the fabric of his shirt, slowly inching it up his back until he eventually registers your movements and tears his mouth away from your body. He grins at you, one of his eyebrows raised in a teasing silent question.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pout, continuing to pull at his t-shirt. Will simply chuckles at your words before his hands fall from yours and grip the cotton, pulling his shirt off his body.

“Better?”

“Much,” you reply, capturing his lips in a kiss again as your hands now dance across the newly exposed skin. William’s own hands come to rest at your hips, content to switch roles and let you explore his body, which you gladly do.

Your fingers trace his chest, pausing briefly to play with the golden chains still hanging from his neck, before dropping down. The kisses you give move from his lips to his neck as your hands continue to dip lower, nails gently tracing over his abs, his stomach tightening in response. It isn’t long until your fingers find the waistband of his own jeans, tracing over the edge before gliding over the bulge of him, palming the stiff outline of his cock through the denim. You can feel the vibrations of a groan that rises from his chest as you continue your movements, your own hips rolling in response.

“Baby… älskling… please.”

The gentle whines that escape from William’s throat are enough for you to return to the waistline of his jeans, your fingers deftly undoing the button and the zipper. You slip you hand underneath the fabric covering him, finally contacting his silken skin. Another moan emulates from his chest, his own grip tightening against your hips as you curl your fingers around his length, gently stroking him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praises, the words just making the fire inside you roar even brighter. You continue your languid movements against his cock, your lips retracing up the curve of his throat before hovering against the shell of his ear.

“I feel even better wrapped around you.”

You pull your face away, your sultry whisper still lingering in his ears as your eyes connect with his, a playful spark in your irises. William is simply staring at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real – a statement that he had said to you, multiple times before. You grin, your hand stroking him once again. It’s as if that sensation brings him back to the moment, his head falling against the couch cushions briefly before his eyes reconnect with yours, your grin now reflected on his lips.

“Show me,” he dares and that’s all it takes for you to lean in and kiss him once more. William’s hands rest gently on your thighs while your hands move away from his skin to grip at the waistband of his jeans and underwear, tugging both downward.

Underneath your body, you feel his hips lift, his hands and lips falling from you as he assists you in removing the remaining material from him. You busy yourself by reattaching your own lips to his neck, gently sucking and nipping at the skin, impatiently waiting for him to kick away the denim and cotton. Your actions partially distract Will but also spur him on and it isn’t long before his hands find your waist once more, holding you tight and guiding your hips down to meet his.

A mutual groan escapes both of you at the feeling of him pressed against your hot core, one of his hands lifting to cradle your head and pull you back to his lips. His other hand, still steady on your waist, gently tugs you forward and you oblige is silent request, rolling your hips against his. Every gasp and moan you utter is swallowed by him as you continue to gently rock back and forth on his lap, the fabric of your now soaked underwear creating a beautiful friction.

“I can feel how wet you are älskling,” Will whispers against your lips, his statement as staccato as your breathing, his need clearly as powerful as yours. “Already ruined, always so needy.”

“It’s all because of you,” you whine, your forehead pressed against his as your hips continue to move. “Always make me feel so good.”

“Wanna make you feel better,” he groans, his hands tightening to still your movements. You whimper at the loss of sensation but William doesn’t leave you hanging long as he lifts your hips off of his.

One of his hands glides down your leg before curling around to the inside of your thigh, tracing upwards before connecting with your core. You gasp, your eyes flying open to connect to his when you feel his fingers hook around the damp fabric, pulling it sharply to the side and exposing your slit to the cool air. Will just shoots you a grin as his fingers move again, the rough calloused skin finally connecting to your soaked folds.

You can’t stop the way your eyelids flutter shut as his fingers glide over you, meeting no resistance as they move up before connecting with your clit. You whine, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he rubs his fingertips against the bundle of nerves, every movement making your cunt pulse with need.

“William, please – I want you. Wanna feel you, please,” you beg, every ministration of his hand pulling you closer to that edge but never quite far enough. The sound of his quiet hum hits your ears before his hand falls away from your core. You open your eyes and lock gaze with him, seeing that pure admiration in his own pupils – admiration that would normally have you melting right then and there if you weren’t already so high-strung.

“Anything for you, min käraste,” he replies, the hand still on your body gently urging you to sink down onto him.

It is all encompassing, the feeling of him pressing into you, filling you up. Your mouth drops in a silent moan at the sensation. The sound that falls from William is more audible but just as satisfied as his grip tightens around you, the heat of his breath fanning across your cheekbones. You blindly chase his lips, capturing his mouth in yours and swallowing his moans, your hands tangling in his hair.

You feel his fingers flex against your skin – a silent demand that you are all too willing to obey – and you start to move your hips, slowing finding a gentle rhythm. Each roll of your body shoots another blaze of fire up your spine as you and Will messily kiss, the pleasure almost too overwhelming for you both.

A gasp falls from you as Will moves his hips up to meet yours, grazing that damnable spot within you that has you seeing stars. There is no stopping how your head falls back, lifting up towards the ceiling. Never deterred, William reattaches his lips to your collarbones, shoulders, and breasts as you two continue to move against each other.

It’s intoxicating: how he makes you feel, every movement of him inside you, every touch of his hands, every kiss he presses against your skin. That delectable pleasure builds within you, your movements faltering as Will continues to bring you to that peak.

“Let go, älskling. Let me feel you,” he whispers, the sentence punctuated by his hand slipping back between your thighs, pressing against your clit once more. The sensation has your head snapping back to look down at him, your chest and face surely flushed, your eyes filled with desire and pleasure and absolute love for the man in front of you.

It is a perfectly timed thrust combined with a skilled stroke of his fingers against you that has you coming undone, your body stilling as your orgasm thrums through you. Your head falls further down, burying itself into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, your teeth gently grazing the strong muscle there as William continues to move, prolonging your release.

He soon stills, always the attentive lover, letting you recover even though you can still feel him painfully hard within you. You sigh into his skin, kissing his neck before your hips roll again. A sharp gasp falls from him in response to your movements, the pleasurable sensation of you warm and wet around him somehow ratcheted up even more after you’ve come.

“Please, William,” you purr into his ear as your hips continue to roll, albeit less steady than before, your muscles feeling weak thanks to your prior motions and resulting orgasm. You mouth soft kisses against his jawline, your hands still tangled in his blond hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “I want to feel you come inside me. Please, min kärlek.”

The sound of those syllables, the sound of you speaking his native tongue, especially when coupled with your gentle pleas has his body stiffening beneath you, his own orgasm crashing into him. You moan at the sensation of him spilling within you, a newer feeling but one you knew you would never tire of as William wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his own moans hot against your ear.

The two of you stay there for a moment in the afterglow, bodies pressed against one another. You can feel Will’s fingers gently tracing up and down your spine while your own fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You slowly lift yourself up, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when you spy the darkening love bites scattered across his skin, William shooting a similar smirk, no doubt at the matching evidence on your decolletage.

Your hand falls from his hair to cup his jaw, thumb gently running over his cheek as you take in the sight of him, practically golden and glowing beneath you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too, min käraste,” Will replies, bringing his own hand up to gently grasp your chin, pulling your lips to his in a tender kiss.

While the vocalization of those words may have been somewhat recent, it felt as if you and William had exchanged them long ago: before this moment, before the first time you said them to each other, even before the two of you became exclusive. Those words sang their truth from both of your hearts on that very first night you met.

You knew you would be forever thankful for the universe for sending him to you a year ago. He was everything you wanted – everything you never knew you needed. But now, one thing was for certain; you had finally found that one person that made it safe for you to fall.

tagging: @thewintersoldierdisaster because I know you are in your Nylander era and @laurenairay who signed up with my new taglist... which you can SIGN UP FOR HERE!!

[seelie-buddy]

enchanted

summary : 'all I know is I was enchanted to meet you...' contains : zhongli x reader ; mutual pining ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person word count : 725 ꔛ artwork – @ ameriya7

Zhongli who notices how your ears perk up at his words.

The manner in which you keep a keener ear for what he has to say, intrigued and ever curious of what his comments and interjections include. The manner in which you seem to always have the patience for his long tales, his tidbits on history possessed only by the oldest scrolls and records.

Your attentive eyes, your little nods as you follow along his words, you hold onto his every word— mulling them over, absorbing them in a manner a gardener would preen their flower beds: with a gentle patience, with attentice and warm eyes.

Zhongli who notices your reluctance to take spotlight as he easily does.

The manner in which you don't often share your own thoughts, especially amongst a crowd. The parting of your lips, subtle actions showing your disagreement with the discussion; the slight crease of your forehead, the furrow or twitch of your eyebrows— you listened more than you spoke, saw more than you communicated.

Zhongli who notices your faint reactions towards him.

The manner in which the corner of your lips as twitch, raising into the slightest of smiles— a gesture of agreement— and of surprise at how it seemed that he knew what thoughts you had in your head without you needing to voice it out.

Zhongli who notices how your eyes turn his way more times than necessary.

The manner in which, each time, they would return elsewhere just before he could catch you in the act; the manner in which you seemed to hover close enough to pay attention to the discussions others would include him in, yet never close enough to speak with him directly.

Zhongli who begins asking for your opinions during group discussions.

The manner in which he would pay attention to what ideas you seemed to have— each one holding a depth, although the quietness of your voice making it easy for others to not hear you speak.

Zhongli who would notices the contrast between you and himself.

The manner in which his willingness to part his thoughts and knowledge to others with ease; you who allowed your thoughts to remain shrouded in clouds of mystery.

The manner in which you held back your words, kept yourself in a bubble of your own world, filled with your own ideas and dreams, your words only loud enough for a sharp ear as his to catch. Hushed contributions, quiet musings; enchanting.

Zhongli who knew what your slight smiles, attentive eyes meant.

The manner in which your head turned away swiftly the second his eyes almost makes contact with yours; the manner in which you would never take the initiative to reveal the truth of your heart unprompted, least of all to him.

Zhongli who knew why his own eyes would follow your reactions.

The manner in which he paid mind to your quiet contemplation in regards to the discussions you never directly partook in; the manner in which his own attention was quickly grabbed at the hushed tone of your words in the few instances you put yourself forward. The manner in which he knew what was the truth of his own heart.

Zhongli who would turn group discussions into private exchange of thoughts.

The manner in which he would invite you for a cup of tea to hear the wondrous thoughts hidden behind your silence, noticing you appear more at ease outside of a crowd.

The manner in which conversations grow into shared tea breaks during the day, into quiet musings on a long trek around the peaks and valleys of Liyue, and into prolonged walks along the ports at night.

Zhongli who narrates any tale you show interest in.

The manner in which he shares tales lost to time with the backdrop of the sparkling surface of waves that wash the shore. The manner in which he would fall hush at noticing your head drooping in the warm evening sunshine.

The manner in which he would let your head rest against his shoulder, a tender hand brushing back the loose strands of hair that fell forward onto your face. The manner in which he would know, and not hold back from acknowledging, that every hour spent with you was flawless, that your smile had him wonderstruck, that he was enchanted by you.

a/n : this drabble was inspired by taylor swift's song named enchanted!! it's been a while since I've written something, and this is also my first writing of the year (although, yes, it took a while; I had my exams for the end of the semester). hope you enjoyed reading it, and if so, do go through my other drabbles if you're interested !!

[ilyasorokinn]

Would you be able to write “shielding the other one with their body” + Michael bunting?

SONNY CUDDLES

i am going to change who this is for just because i no longer write for michael. love him and it's literally nothing against him, i just have a weird thing about married guys (except for like ej). n e ways, that's it. love bunts tho!! so, i instead decided to write this for joseph will, my first thing for him so that's very slay lol

when you and joseph started dating, you had disclosed to him that with you came your very clingy, very loving little dachshund sonny. he was your little sidekick and the main man in your life and joseph knew that nad picked up on it quickly.

your little boy dog loved to follow you around wherever you went and even would lay at your feet when you went to the bathroom. it took a while for sonny to take a liking to joseph, but they became pals quickly he knew no matter what, sonny was your dog.

every morning, sonny would run up the little staircase by your bed and hop around on the bed, getting your attention and effectively waking you up. if the jumping and hopping around didn't work, he would go to plan b which was to bark and lick at you. he would usually bark at joseph and gently lick at you.

this morning was no different than any other. sonny climbed up the little staircase at the edge of the bed and started jumping around and trying to get your attention. when sonny saw you were awake, his tail started wagging like crazy and he walked over to your side for morning cuddles.

joseph woke up when he felt you move to hug sonny. he groaned, "what the heck?" he mumbled groggily.

"sorry, sonny cuddles," you told him.

"no." he shook his head, maneuvering his body so you were on his side of the bed and he was on yours. he was careful not to squish the dog, but sonny was now on the outside of the bed, behind joseph.

you laughed when joseph sprawled out on top of you, wanting you all to himself, "jo, what about sonny?" you smiled, poking at his cheek.

"he can have you later. right now it's my turn." he mumbled into your shoulder.

sonny, of course, was not happy that he wasn't cuddling you and started barking at joseph. he tried to climb over joseph, but he was determined not to let sonny get to you, "no, my turn, sonny." joseph shook his head.

"you're crazy." you shook your head, laughing when sonny finally succeeded and slid into place by your side.

"we need to start closing the door."

[wmnylander]

Q: What were you thinking with the stick thing with Elvis in the first period. He grabbed your stick, you grabbed his...

Jan 22, 2025

[lukehughes43]

AM34 Auston Matthews x reader

word count: 1,400 a/n: quick little blurb and or drabble thing of auston becoming captain because how could I not? warnings: none I think. maybe some swearing

You had never seen Auston this nervous before. Normally, he was relaxed, easy going, and tried not to stress about things very often. Only now he was busy pacing a hole in the floor of your shared apartment. 

“Aus,” you called, “there’s nothing to worry about. Everyone’s going to love you as their captain.” His attention turned immediately to you. His brown eyes searching your e/c ones. “Plus the decision has already been made. Brad wants you as captain. Craig wants you as his captain. And, most importantly, John has signed off on the idea to hand the captaincy over to you.” Before he could protest, you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Gently you reached up to cup his cheek, a smile forming on your lips, “You deserve this, love. You’ve worked your life to get to this moment.” 

Reaching up, Auston grabbed on to your wrist. Thumb working small circles against the soft skin. “I know I deserve it, and there hasn’t been a thought in my mind about passing the opportunity over, but I just - can’t believe this is happening.” His confession tugged at your heart. He had put his blood, sweat, and tears into becoming a Toronto Maple Leaf. Played in their first round series sicker than a dog, and still walked away as the MVP despite the loss. 

“Well you better believe it soon, because we need to leave in an hour,” you remind with a kind smile. “Can’t keep everyone waiting for the star of the show today.” Balancing up on your tiptoes you pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek. “I’m going to finish getting ready, and you should too.” 

It wasn’t long before the pair of you were seated in the front seats of his blue Porsche. Brian and Ema smiling happily in the backseat. While you focused on carrying the load of conversation, Auston’s hand had nervously worked its way into yours resting in your lap. Without missing a beat in the conversation about preparing your classroom for the up and coming school year, you squeezed his hand. A subtle gesture to show him that you were aware of the mixed emotions rolling off his body. “I’m sure the kids are going to love hearing about Auston becoming captain this year,” Ema smiled with pride. 

Laughing you nodded your head, craning your body to face the backseat. “That will surely be the talk of the first few days,” you agreed. “Although, any chance they get Auston normally gets brought up. They always beg me to bring him in for show and tell.” The comment drew a laugh from Auston’s parents, and an eye roll from the man himself.  But even he couldn’t hide the smile that was growing on his face. 

“Has he ever come in for show and tell before?” Brian asked.

“Once,” Auston replied, eyes glancing at his fathers in the rearview mirror before turning into the parking lot. “Only it didn’t end up as happy as a day as all the little second graders thought it would.” 

Confusion painted Brian and Ema’s faces, allowing you the chance to fill them in on the rest of the story. “A couple of tears were shed because some kids thought their show and tells weren’t as ‘cool’ as mine.” Grimacing you glanced over at Auston who was still wearing his smile. 

“Well not everyone can bring a sixty plus goal scorer, can they?” He chimed, earning a smack on the shoulder from you. 

Rolling your eyes you glanced back at his parents, “Of course they were all really excited and happy Aus had come in, but some of them felt overshadowed. So from now on if he wants to come visit, it’s on days when we don’t have show and tell.” 

“Well talk about a lesson learned the hard way,” Ema laughed. Nodding your head you agreed with the woman, turning to glance around the half full parking lot. “Well, I suppose we should head in.” Taking charge as always, Ema Matthews headed out of the car, her husband following her lead. 

You stole a glance at Auston to see him already staring back at you with those big brown eyes. “You ready hot shot?” Teasing, you pulled your interlaced hands up to your lips to press a kiss against his skin. “Because the whole hockey world is ready for you.” 

A slight blush dusted over his cheeks as he stared at you, eyes darting between the diamond ring resting on your finger and your e/c eyes. “You know, I think you might have said that to me once before,” he recalled with a smile, “maybe like, eight years ago?” 

“God don’t say that,” you groaned with a smile, “you’re making us sound old.” 

“Well, we are kinda old, baby.” The both of you fell into a small fit of laughter, seemingly lost in memories from prior years. It was only when your beloved nickname fell from his lips like honey that you both silenced your laughing. “What if I can’t be the leader they’re expecting me to be? What if, even after all this we still can’t beat Boston in the playoffs? That I - we never win the Stanley Cup?” Your heart squeezed inside your chest as you stared back at him. Searching for the answers that he so desperately needed to hear, yet couldn’t place them. “What happens then? If I can’t be a Leaf for life.” 

Taking both of his hands in your own hands, you faced him fully. Knees pressed against the center console, likely pulling the nylon fabric covering them. “Auston,” you breathed, “I have never met someone so right for a position of leadership as you. I love John, with all my heart, you know that. But baby, in this business changes need to happen. Different voices need to be heard, and right now yours is the guiding voice of the Toronto Maple Leafs. And it has been since you scored four goals in your NHL debut.” The old memory of his debut tugged a smile to the corner of his lips, but you knew he wasn’t fully convinced of your vision. “You have brought life back to this team, to this fan base. You’ve given something they haven't had in a long time: hope.” 

“How does that translate to me becoming the twenty-sixth captain in franchise history?” His voice held emotions you couldn’t quite place. Sadness, fear, uncertainty. All things you knew Auston Matthews hardly felt. 

Smiling you squeezed his hands once more, “My love, that’s one of the things most important about being a leader - a captain. You have to give your teammates, the ownership, and the fans something to believe in. Something to have hope for. You’ve given them that, and so much more Aus. There’s a reason you didn’t think about passing the opportunity over. There’s a reason John was more than willing to hand the captaincy into your very capable hands.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because you have been the voice of this team since your debut in twenty-sixteen,” you answered with nothing but certainty. “It was only a matter of time until this happened, this past season was the nail in the coffin.” Auston’s face contorted into disapproval while you laughed it off, “Sorry only reference I could think of baby. But it holds some truth to it. Losing to the Bruins in the first round, again, sucked. It fucking sucked. For everyone. You. Me. The team. But you pushed through so much to play in that series. You took control and put the team on your back more than once. Playing sick goes a long way, Aus. It showed everyone in that locker room that you’re here to win. You’re here to bring this franchise a Stanley Cup, and even if you’re on your deathbed you're willing to be the person that helps bring the team to glory.” 

Sighing Auston fell back against his seat. “Are you sure you aren’t saying all this because you’re my fiance?” His head lulled to the side to glance over at you with a soft smile. Leaning over the console you fixed the collar of his suit jacket, “No, I told you that you need to buy another suit because this one has been over worn because I’m your fiance.” Once the collar was laid flat against his body you looked to meet his gaze once more. “I told you all that because I’m someone who believes in you, Auston. Also someone who sees the greatness deep inside you.”  “I love you, you know that?” He asked, body leaning forward to meet you halfway. Smiling, you nodded, “I do know that.” Quickly you closed the distance between the two of you to press your lips against his. “Now come on, I want to see you with a ‘C’ on your chest, captain.”

[sweetmelodygraphics]

[emsdevs]

please could you write a lazy morning in bed with joseph woll? i just know his morning voice is unreal 💜

Morning Schemes

a/n: i hope you like it nonnie!! i had fun with this one!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Joseph Woll Masterlist

It was a Saturday in the middle of summer. The only thing you had planned was tidying up the apartment a little bit, and since hockey was well out of season, Joseph didn’t have any plans either. However, when he woke up to the sun gleaming through the gaps in your curtains, that changed. Immediately, he was thinking of a hundred and one ways to keep you in bed with him all day. Subconsciously, he pulls you a little closer, not wanting this to end.

When you eventually wake up, it’s to Jo laying soft kisses along the back of your neck. You lean into him, loving the almost ticklish feeling. A smile creeps its way onto your face as he moves his kisses around your neck and toward your cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” your morning voice only makes Jo want to keep you in bed even more. 

“What do I have to do to get you to stay here all day?” he’s moved his kisses back down, right under your ear.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think, only answering when his kisses stopped, “Not much, Jo. Why?”

“Because I don’t wanna move from this spot, but I don’t wanna let go of you either,” he begins leaving kisses on your skin once again, starting at your cheek. However, he doesn’t give you time to answer because he moves from your cheek to your lips. You melt into the kiss, letting Joseph pull you onto your back. Before you know it, he’s hovering over you, and you don’t have anywhere to go, not that you’d want to be anywhere else. Before the kiss can heat up any more, Joseph pulls back, not giving you any time to think before plopping himself down right on top of you.

“Oh, no. Looks like you can’t go anywhere, baby. Guess you gotta stay here with me all day,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, and you can feel the smile on his face.

“Darn. Guess I do have to stay here,” sarcasm drips from your voice, but Jo can’t bring himself to care or to say something back to you. His scheme had worked, and now he gets you to himself all day.

taglist: @heartsforjh @macklin-celebrini-71 @joeyspuckbunny @beenucks @wolls-angel

join the taglist

[jellywalker-apocalypse]

Where did you mess up?

You knew — knew that it would be a bad decision, knew that it would be bad to agree with him, bad to go through with the procedure, yet you still did it.

You’re the cause of the disease.

You’re the cause of the apocalypse.

You’re the cause of every single death, every single infected cookie, every single fallen kingdom.

You’re the cause of every innocent cookie added to their hivemind.

And still, somehow, even after working with it for so long, you don’t know how to stop it? You don’t know what caused it, what makes it so hard to beat, so hard to stop?

You don’t have a cure?

You, the lead scientist of a program you knew had a high risk of backfiring, and you had no solution for if it did go wrong?

Now you’re watching the consequences of the mistake that slipped through the cracks.

You’re watching the land crumble beneath you.

You’re watching cookies band together just to survive because of your improper judgement.

And.. it makes you constantly wonder.

It makes you constantly ask yourself the same questions.

Where did I mess up?

Why did I agree to letting him help me?

Why did nobody stop me?

Why did no one see the dangers?

Why didn’t I just tell him no?