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austonwithan-o · 11 months

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“We’re parents? Like actually parents?”

No warnings really… pregnancy ig if that’s a trigger

You sat on the bathroom floor. The cold tiles sending chills throughout your body, the pregnancy test on the counter sat there. Your period was late. You hadn’t told Auston mostly because you just realized it that day but you also didn’t want to freak him out, he already had so much going on during off season. Training and planning for the season to start, it was a lot and the last thing you wanted to do was stress him out. You were shaking, praying for a good outcome but you didn’t know what a good outcome was. Auston and you always talked about getting married first before having kids. That’s just the way you were raised and how you pictured your future. Starting a family was one of your biggest dreams and you had expressed it many times with him but with his career and everything going on for him, he wanted to wait a few more years. On the other hand you wouldn’t mind having a mini you or a mini him running around playing floor hockey until you were confident enough to get them in skates, imagining Auston as a dad made your heart ache longingly for those days but you had no idea how Auston would react to it being so soon. You looked down at your phone. The 3 minute timer rang loudly in your ears and you slowly stood up. Grabbing the packaging you peeled the wrapper back revealing two pink lines. Your breath was caught in your throat. You felt nauseous and shaky. Quiet sobs left your mouth but you covered your mouth because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop once the crying really started. Your mind started racing with every outcome, truthfully you were happy but god you were terrified what Auston would think. You put the pregnancy test back in the box and threw it in the trash grabbing a wad of toilet paper and throwing it in to cover it. Auston wasn’t too observant thankfully. You knew he’d never look in the trash can and it bought you some time to think about how you would break the news to him.

You washed your hands and wiped your eye’s making yourself look presentable. It was almost 5 and he’d be home from playing golf with Mitch and Willy. Walking out of the bathroom and making your way downstairs you saw Auston pull into the driveway. You watched as the three piled out of the car grabbing their gear out of the back, you sat at the bar scrolling through instagram trying to distract yourself. The front door opening letting the warm Arizona air drift in.

“Hey baby how did the golfing go?” You asked not looking up from your phone.

“Absolutely crushed these goons.” He said laughing. He walked over lightly grabbing the side of your face, planting a kiss to your temple grabbing a beer from the fridge. Your anxiety was through the roof at this point and he knew something was up.

“Man I don’t even care, I’ve won the last 3 games buddy I just let you win this time.” Mitch said throwing his hat on the dining room table. “Sauce me a beer will ya?” Everyone was gathered around the bar at this point chatting and talking about their game mostly making fun of each other laughing.

“Mitch no one likes a sore loser bud.” Willy said cracking the beer open taking a long sip.

“I’m not a sore loser I’m just saying I won the last 3 times. This one win doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t help but laugh at their childish banter.

“Baby you want a drink?” Auston asked grabbing a white claw from your side of the drink fridge.

“Oh I’m okay! I’m not thirsty.” You said giving him a small smile, finally looking at him he gave you a weird look putting the drink back in the fridge. He went on with his conversation with the boys who were completely oblivious to the slight tension between you two.

You got up from the bar area heading back up to your room. Auston’s eyes not leaving your figure walking up the marble stairs, you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. You laid in your bed with Felix staring at the ceiling, you were so exhausted you slowly drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to it being pitch dark outside and a warm spot from where Felix was laying beside you. You checked your phone and checked the time, 9:55pm, “holy shit y/n… 5 hours?” You rolled your eyes slightly annoyed with yourself for sleeping so long. You definitely weren’t getting any sleep tonight. You got up from the bed walking into the bathroom to brush your teeth and at least get ready for the night and the trash can was spilled onto the floor. Felix had a tendency to go through the trash can and you were mentally punching yourself for not shutting the door this morning. Horror filled your mind as you realized the pregnancy test was missing.

“Fucking hell Felix!” You whispered under your breath. You were certain Auston was probably taking a night swim or watching tv downstairs. All you had to do was find Felix and get the test before Auston could find it. You tiptoed downstairs and found him sitting on the couch watching TV. His back was facing towards you. Felix’s head perked up from the couch, Auston didn’t move and neither did you.

“You wanna talk about it?” His voice was raspy. You could tell he had been crying and your heart broke at the sound of it.

He finally turned around holding the test. His face showed no emotion. Slowly walking towards him the tears started streaming down your face again.

“Auston I didn’t mean to hide it from you I swear. I - I just needed time to process it, I was going to tell you I swear.” Your voice wash shaky and small, he lightly grabbed your wrists bring you down to his lap. His eyes were glossy and his lips curved into a slight smile.

“Y/n I love you with my whole entire being God I can’t even imagine my life without you. I know we weren’t planning this but I’m ready to be a dad if you’re ready to be a mom. I want to grow old with you, I want to raise a little family, teach our kids how to skate, how to play hockey.” He was crying and his words made you cry as well. His hands travelled from your hips to your tummy. His tattooed hand rested onto your tummy lightly rubbing it. Your cheeks were on fire. The feeling of everything was so surreal.

“Auston we’re gonna be parents now…like actual parents!” Tears still poured out of your eyes but a wide smile spread across your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead placing it against yours. “You know I kind of guessed it earlier.” A cocky grin was plastered on his tear stained face. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” You asked now playing with the chain around his neck.

“You refused a white claw for starters and I know when you start your period and it’s been a week since you usually start. I put two and two together and when Felix brought the test to me it just confirmed it.”

“I’m mildly impressed that you pieced that together.” He just laughed. Lifting your chin up and kissing you. He scanned your features. He was so lucky and he knew it.

———————

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butterflypov · 2 months

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he’s SO CHEEKYYYYY making everyone laugh like that pls

#william nylander #willy nylander #willy styles #toronto maple leafs #help his smile is everything to me

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letsgetrowdy43 · 5 months

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Look at the cuties 🤭

#rotalks<3 #quinn hughes #luke hughes #jack hughes #willy nylander

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holy-puckslibrary · 4 months

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━ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — camboy!MITCH MARNER x camgirl!reader word count — 3k

note — uh so yeah <3

recommended viewing — heathers (1988) and VHS (2012) recommended reading — 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐎 and 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖𝐒

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares — home movie, exhibitionism, group sex, risky location, and (pseudo) group sex additional content warnings — cameos...bc cameo lol, public sex (a literal audience), unprotected boinking + creampie, some reach-around finger-bang action, unprotected coitus + cum play bc mitchy is nasty, praise kink influencer!mitch — "content, baby, content!" (name that vlogger lol), brief past phone sex (kinda? idk you'll see), discussion of sex work and the selling of items

MITCH MARNER IS BEYOND ANTSY.

He wants to leave, and has since you arrived. You wouldn't be hard-pressed to assume enduring the company of his teammates was physically painful with how he's been behaving.

You have an inkling as to why, and you know your hands aren't exactly clean in that respect, but it's his lack of time management that should bear the brunt of his ire, not you.

You left more than enough time for him to get his dick wet.

Brooding like a hormonal teenager, he haunts the far corner of the room, glaring at you over the rim of a glass you know he hasn't touched all night. Morgan's in his ear, but anyone can tell he isn't listening just by looking at his pinched expression and hard, detached gaze; Mitch's been too busy glowering to allow even a little fun to bypass his sour mood.

Which is precisely why you're ignoring him. Instead, finding conversation in Matt, who's in town for the weekend.

The more Mitch pouts, the more you tease—he should know that by now.

You're halfway to the kitchen for a refill when your boyfriend finally corners you. One second you're walking down a deserted hallway, and the next you're trapped between the wall and Mitch's heaving chest.

His eyes have gone a deep shade of navy, and that's all you need to see to know you've fucked up.

If there's one thing Mitch hates, it's being denied attention. Namely, yours.

"I'd say it's time to call it a night, wouldn't you?" he growls lowly into your mouth.

You’re more marionette than person at this moment, bobbing your head along with his every whim, wholly transfixed and with no real thoughts of your own. It's dizzying how much power he can exert without doing much at all. He could get you to agree to anything.

Never in your life has submission felt this innate or this safe.

And it isn’t often Mitch gets like this. Usually, only after he’s been away for a while or you haven’t had much alone time; tonight both are at play.

Hunger rolls off of him in giddy waves. Breakers that don’t spill or curl; the energy piles up until it has nothing left to do besides compress together. Albeit, far too late to be elegant or uniform. The tempestuous emotion hurtles rapidly to your shore, slamming into you without care or warning. Hypnotic is a word he suits best in this state.

Someone fakes a cough a few paces away. Your heads snap in the direction you came, only to find three figures idling in the entryway.

Mitch grinds his teeth. "Can we help you?"

"No need to cut the evening short, Mitchell," Auston teases through a shit-eating grin, undeterred by his friend's burgeoning tantrum. Mitch doesn't answer, so Auston presses on, "What? My guest bedroom not good for a movie star such as yourself?"

"What, you three what some kind of live demonstration? Fancy yourselves an in-studio audience?" Mitch snorts too quickly and the realization hits just as fast. "You can't be serious."

Had he taken a moment to think about anything besides his raging hard-on, he might've noticed the way your thighs squeezed together at the thought of putting on a show. Or, heard the little whimper you couldn't catch before it got loose.

It's an idea you have been toying with lately, having been a mutual fantasy for some time now, and this is as good an opportunity as any.

Better than most, actually, if you take into account the added risk that comes with bringing your romantic relationship out of the shadows. With more eyes on you as you than ever, Mitch isn't the only one who needs to proceed with caution anymore.

These are people you know and trust, and who are already privy to your unconventional side hustle.

Willy shrugs. "It's not like it'd be the first time we were there while you two were going at it."

Physically, it would be but virtually? Denial would be an outright lie.

Your boyfriend is to blame for that bit of ammunition.

"Jesus, fuck, Mitch! Are you playing with your eyes closed or something? Because it sure as fuck looks like it."

"It's not my fucking fault, alright? Can't fuckin' concentrate with all her whining and shit," he spat back into the mic.

The intensity of his defense made him thrust his hips, accidentially jostling you in his lap, which just made you whimper louder.

He didn't spare you a second glance.

The lewd squeak was poorly muffled by his neck and, as much as Mitch loved to bitch about how distracting your sounds were, this was exactly why he wanted to be buried balls-deep while he played with the guys.

But that wasn't the half of why he insisted you stay put.

Mitch may be territorial as hell, but he'll never pass up an opportunity to have his ego stroked or to flaunt what luxuries he has at his disposal.

These virtual escapades are like open season for that shit.

Every compliment was more his than yours. Praise for your obedience was truly kudos for his firm hand. Each envy-laced remark, whether it be laden with degradation or brimming with flattery, went straight to his head and to his cock. And, best of all, they had him to thank for the small taste of a heaven they could only dream of.

Win or lose, every game resulted in a night that rendered you speechless and incredibly sore—he loves attention that much.

"Fine," he relents, more aroused now after his trip down memory lane. "You can look, but you can't touch. And don't even think about sweet talking her or bullying me into it. Got it?"

“What’dya say, baby? Should we give the people what they came up here to see?”

Sheepishly, you nod. A pitiful whine matches the pout you wear, impatient as ever.

His reply tickles your ear. The low chuckle is surprisingly airy for a sound burdened by the weight of his smugness.

Ever since he got his hands on your heart, your boyfriend's been inclined to... pomposity. Mitch needs the world to know it's his palm you reside in. He wants the credit he's owed for the spectacular state of disarray you become whenever he's present.

Occasionally, the ego of it all drives you up the wall. But, it's difficult to knock someone down a peg when they've earned every right to be on their high horse.

Not that you're complaining; he's hot when he's cocky.

At the foot of the bed, Mitch frames your body with his thighs. Yours are parted narrowly, only enough for a hand and some wiggle room, but your crowd of three isn't starved for visual stimulation in the slightest.

What you'd put on not two hours prior now sits on the dresser opposite you neatly folded.

Mitch rubs a few fingers over the budding mess between your thighs and, even though the touch remains central to the source, the last garment standing diffuses a delicious tingling sensation. It's minimal, and to an infuriating degree—enough to kindle the fire in your belly without ever risking a premature finale.

Your knees knock together in frustration, but they won't stay that way for long.

Mitch wrenches his hand out from between your thighs, completely ignoring the way you whimper at the loss. He pulls your legs apart with both hands and hooks each one over his knees, leaving your feet dangling outside his.

“You keep them spread, yeah?"

Again, you nod.

Now is not the time to push his buttons.

Mo runs a hand over his flushed face. “Fuckin’ hell,” he laments.

The damp patch, now verging on translucent, stands in stark contrast to the bright, creamy cotton. A pretty, little satin bow sits demurely above the drop of sweetness no one but Mitch will ever taste again.

Mitch is just as eager as you are. You can feel it on your skin; in the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat; in the effort behind his breathing. But, most obviously, in the bulge burrowing into the small of your back. Which is why, when his deft hand slips beneath the thin waistband to curl into your heat, it comes as no surprise.

He doesn't linger, much to everyone's disappointment.

Mitch is quick to dispel the new gloom blanketing the room, though, holding the evidence of your enthusiasm up to the light as if raising the Cup.

A thick combination of horror and delight burns shallowly under your skin as he slowly separates them, revealing the full extent of your arousal as it hangs proudly between the chuffed digits.

“Showin’ off for my friends?” he chides, though it's clear he couldn’t be happier about the sticky display.

You mewl in response to the light mockery.

And now it's just as evident how badly the three men standing against the wall want to alleviate the growing pressure below their belts.

However, they won't because they can't.

Mitch wants to be able to see their hands—both of them, at all times.

"They're being so good for you, aren't they? So quiet and polite; got 'em their best behavior for you, baby."

The stage whisper makes Auston scoff and Willy groan. Mo seems to have gone mute.

Ignoring them, your chin dips. Mitch huffs his amusement.

"But have they behaved well enough to earn a treat?" —and before you give him yet another nod, he specifies how he'd like you to respond: "Words, baby. Let them hear that pretty voice."

You comply in a series of choppy whimpers, "Y-Yessir... s'good... They've been s-so good—more than enough."

You plead on their behalf as much as your own.

Mitch moans into your ear, unhinged and primal, and immediately rucks down the ruined material—one half of a matching set—until they hang off one ankle.

It's taking every ounce of self-control to not flip you over and take you face down ass up; Mitch is enjoying this demonstration of power that much.

The blood pumping in your ears drowns out whatever reaction Mitch's teammates had to seeing you bare and on display, but simply knowing they're there, watching with undivided attention, sets your skin ablaze.

"I always have to stretch her out before we can do anything fun. Doesn't matter how long or how often I've been fucking her—or which hole. Without fail, my girl tightens right back up like she's brand fuckin' new."

At a gingerly pace, your boyfriend tugs back the soft, subtle hood covering that tender, oh-so-sensitive spot. He lifts the curtain, unveiling the bundle of nerves like the work of art that it is, watching as it pulses for attention. His free hand frames your weeping folds before spreading them open. Though, this early on there's not much to see. And it would be hard to if there were, considering what a mess you've made already. The finishing touch comes from Mitch's hips, which nudge yours in a silent demand for an upward tilt that yields an unobstructed view of both needy, flexing holes for the audience.

"—and I never get sick of breaking her in all over again."

At their wide eyes and slack jaws, Mitch preens. He's delighting in this torture, never having had something they didn't that was worth coveting. Still, regardless of how high Mitch gets off the attention, his generosity has its limits.

The hand petting your clit abandons its post in favor of venturing further south. Mitch absorbs the full-body jolt his mild prodding elicits while continuing to circle the pretty pucker, though never breaching the taut band.

"This little one—it doesn't come for free, and it doesn't go for cheap, either. I can tell you that much right now, boys."

For a bit, mitch plays with you to his heart's content. Still withholding what you want most, but somehow managing to keep you more than satisfied.

But, eventually, your boyfriend begins taking requests from the live audience the way he's done in the past cam shows he has participated in.

"Show us how many that needy cunt can take at once." (Morgan)

—Tonight, three. But the real answer is all of them—thumb included.

"You're doing all the work. Make her fuck herself on them." (William)

—You do a decent job...until your legs give out under the demands of exertion with little to no leverage. Mitch resumes control seconds before your lower extremities begin tingling, a precursor to the eventual numbness that will undoubtedly render you useless.

"Oh, c'mon. I know she can take it harder and faster. Don't hold back, Mitchy." (Auston)

— You can; you do.

...and when you can no longer resist succumbing to the unbearable tightness just below your navel, ruthlessly coupled with his thumb swiping over your swollen clit, you convulse violently in Mitch's steely grip. Your limbs thrash with all their might just to make the most of what little autonomy they've been allotted. A heavy downpour of tears stream down your cheeks, collecting beads of perspiration as they go.

“Goddamn, your tears are even prettier in person," Auston remarks, awestruck.

Willy softly mumbles something to the effect of deeming you an angel and Mitch snorts, knowing that couldn't be further from the truth; you were putting on a show in more ways than one.

“A fuckin’ star—that’s what she is," he's quick to correct.

You're still entrenched in the aftershocks of your first Mitch-induced climax in over a week when he abruptly removes his fingers in favor of spreading you open for your adoring fans.

On the surface, pulling your outer lips apart with his thumbs a second time seems purely for the benefit of a spectator. However, in further exposing such sensitive, delicate skin to the elemets, Mitch is doing you a brilliant favor. The wetness clinging to you like a second skin chills considerably.

At a certain point, you can't discern which shivers belong to these escalations and which stem from the peak you're still reeling from.

Your boyfriend peers over your shoulder, slightly envious of his friends' vantage point, to watch your puffy opening constrict around nothing.

He smirks with his lips pressed to your neck. "Even after all that, this greedy hole still isn't satisfied. You guys done nothing to earn more, but she's too damn inviting to resist."

You're three orgasms deep and verging on incoherent when Mitch finally lowers your limp form over his hard cock, and he finds immense satisfaction in how easily you come apart for him once again. Before he even bottomed out.

A few sharp thrusts with his hand around your throat, his arm firm in the valley between your breasts, and your body milks him like it's after his very soul.

But unfortunately for your poor, overstimulated pussy, he is far from finished with you...

"Y'did so good for me, always so fuckin' good, aren't you? Now stay still for me, baby, just for a second."

You nod and do as you're told, mostly because you can't do much to the contrary even if you wanted to. An overwhelming mix of too sensitive and almost numb has incapacitated you. You're too strung out for that, too far gone even for words. Everything is fuzzy; your mind, senses, and vision.

Physically, you aren't faring much better. Without Mitch propping you up, you fall back onto the sheets with a faint sigh. You're vaguely aware of what's happening and why, but aren't in a state to be much help.

Lucky for you both, Mitch loves to play creative director.

Your boyfriend gently configures your body the way he needs it in order to get the best stills and a few clips to GIF. Mitch bends your knees, placing each foot flat a few inches from your ass, mindful of keeping your knees wide. Enough so that your folds are forced apart naturally just the way he likes, but without causing you any unnecessary discomfort.

Soon, you're splayed open again—Mitch and his camera join the sea of spectators—your swollen cunt on full display as the evidence of your tryst dribbles out onto the duvet.

"Uh, what... What're you doing?" Willy asks, perplexed.

At least, you think it's the winger. You can't be certain, ot with your head still somewhere amongst the stars.

"What does it look like?" he huffs in response, clearly annoyed by the interruption to his artistic process.

There's more murmuring across the room. From what you can gather, you surmise they're taken aback by how casually this aspect of the job is unfolding, how easily Mitch slips between roles; from run-of-the-mill boyfriend to seasoned dominant, to professional content creator, and back again.

It's something you yourself have thought about on more than one occasion, but never at length.

"Alright, that should do it," Mitch says mostly to himself before leaning down to address you, one hand cradling your jaw while the other brushes away a stale tear. "Now's the hard part."

You can almost feel the triple dose of concern radiating from the far corner. You'd chuckle to yourself if it wouldn't make you look crazier than you already do.

Your boyfriend isn't wrong; this next part is the hard part.

It's funny how your perception of something can change dramatically depending on the context in which it happens. For example, right now, Mitch is sliding ruined fabric up from your ankle for the express purpose of soaking up everything that's fast escaping; you're too spent to keep it squeezed in.

When he does this just because he can, the overt display of dominance makes you borderline feral. But when the intent is to create a product for profit, it's far from enjoyable.

Hence the whine of discontent presently bouncing off of the walls of Auston Matthews' guest bedroom.

Mitch is quick to soothe you, "I know, I know, but we gotta get 'em ready to ship out tomorrow, baby."

He knows you'll stop complaining once it starts to dry. Once the chill is no longer so harsh or foreign on your sensitive skin. After it tightens, Mitch knows what you'll beg for. His greedy girl always wants more. Especially when she's freshly marked and unable to think of anything but him.

"What? No party favor?" Auston asks, the words bleeding sarcasm.

From between your still-quivering thighs, you catch Mitch rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, did you tip my pretty girl nearly five grand last week?"

Auston balks, head wagging.

Mitch gloats.

"That's what I thought. No cash, no panties."

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toasttt11 · 15 days

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daughter

August 7, 2006

Sidney was pacing out side the hospital walls, hearing the screams of Jasmine, who has been in labor for 17 hours now. Sidney had sent home his parents and younger sister as they had been with they all day and he wanted them to at least get some sleep.

Sidney’s head snapped up as the door opened and one of the nurses walked out, “Mr. Crosby, your daughters been born.” The woman gave him a kind smile.

“Daughter!” Sidney choked out as Jasmine didn’t want to find out the gender as she didn’t care for it.

Sidney shook his head pushing back the emotions, “Can i see her.” Sidney questioned looking desperately towards the nurse.

“Of course.” The nurse kindly replied and gestured for him to walk into the room.

Sidney walked in and only spared a single glance at his ex-girlfriend, who was turned away from the door and away from the bassinet that had his newborn daughter in it.

Sidney took slow steps and looked down and saw the most precious thing in the whole work, Sidney knew his daughter has already stolen his heart and nothing was more important to him then her, he gently picked her up and she made a small cooing sound as her little fingers wrapped around his finger.

“Hello Cameron.” Sidney lovingly mumbled, letting out a watery laugh as he feels his cheeks wet from his tears.

He has picked out the name when he found out about her, He loved it because it fit for a girl or a boy name, just like his.

“Sir?” One of the nurses kindly called out gaining his attention, “You have to write out full name and as Ms. Waters has signed away all of her rights so you will need to sign this for the birth certificate.” The nurse set down the papers in front of her him and handed him the pen.

Sidney nodded and shifted his daughter carefully to his one arm and picked the pen up in the other hand, he wrote out her name, Cameron Taylor Crosby. And signed everything he needed too and handed the papers back to the nurse.

“We just need to clean her up and give her a checkup and you’re good to bring her home dad.” Another nurse kindly told Sidney and stretched her hands out towards to take Cameron, Sidney hesitated not liking the idea of letting go of his daughter.

The nurse just calmly smiled because she is use to parents not wanting to let go of their kids, “Why don’t you come with us.” She kindly suggested and Sidney quickly nodded and followed the nurses out of the room not even sparing a glance at his ex, he picked up his back pack swinging it onto his shoulder.

Sidney followed them into the room and gently and reluctantly set his daughter onto the bed, he stayed closed by her side tho and let her fingers stay gently wrapped around his finger.

The nurse started doing a thorough check up on the newborn making sure everything was good and she was healthy before she then started cleaning her up, “Do you have an outfit to bring her home in?” The nurse asked him as many parents will bring in an outfit to bring their baby’s home or the hospital will give them one.

Sidney nodded and opened his backpack pulling out a white and pastel yellow onesie that has little flowers on it, the nurse helped him put it onto Cameron.

The nurse then made sure she went over everything with him as she could tell he was nervous and she knew he was a single father so she wanted him to feel prepared.

“And you are ready to take your girl home.” The nurse kindly told Sidney making him smile, he nodded and thanked the nurse before he started the walked out of the room and down the hallway towards the front of the hospital, he walked out of the front doors and to his car.

Sidney opened the back door and gently laid his newborn daughter into her new car seat and he gently caressed her tiny and soft cheek and gave her one more lovingly smile before he shut the door and he walked around putting all of his stuff into the car before he got into the driver seat.

Sidney took a nervous breath as he turned on the car and slowly and cautiously pulled out of the parking spot and drove the short drive to his house in Nova Scotia, he had recently bought his own house in his home town and bought a house in Pittsburgh as he wanted his daughter to have homes.

Sidney gently grabbed his peacefully sleeping newborn, he slung his bags over his shoulder.

He walked into his house for the first time with his daughter and it felt like home with her.

He set down all of his bags by the door and gently walked over to his couch and slowly sat down being mindful of his daughter in his arms.

Sidney knew he needed to tell his parents and younger sister, and his team that his daughter has been born but he wanted some time alone with Cameron, taking a moment to just have with his daughter.

Sidney slowly and gently slipped his shirt off as he read in one of the parenting books that babies enjoy skin to skin contact and he gently rested his newborn daughter on his chest and pressed a gentle kiss to her head.

Sidney knew that being a single dad and only about to start in his second NHL season, he knew it would be a lot of work but he had a good support system and it would all be worth it for his daughter.

Sidney felt his daughter squirm around slightly and he gently hummed a small soft tune and gently rubbed his tiny back and felt her let out a little puff of air before relaxing fully against him once again.

Sidney smiled contently and relaxed more into the couch and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and could feel his eyes slowly beginning to fall shut.

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snowangel415 · 2 months

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From X

#william nylander #willy nylander #wn88 #toronto maple leafs

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ijustdontlikepeople · 3 months

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NHL All Stars Skills Competition

McDavid’s Saw Trap Event (feat. Winner Connor McDavid)

Inspo @sirjaybobobka

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larsnicklas · 4 months

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like a cat that got the cream ❣️

#william nylander #willy nylander #nylander #toronto maple leafs #maple leafs #leafs #nhl #hockey #meg.gif #meg.leafs #meg.all #shirtless under his adidas tracksuit. earrings in. chain peeking out. backwards cap.#he really has such an Aura #(aura i love)

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lvrhughes · 1 month

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A Little Fun | W. Nylander

pairing: William Nylander x f!reader

summary: Unintentionally hiding your relationship with Will can be fun, but tonight there's no more secrets

warnings: teasing, making out, inudenos of sex

word count: 1.6k

not my gif!

“You know we don’t have to-”

“It’s a little fun, Willy don’t lie!” The smile on your face with the words was enough to make every concern he had leave his body, leaning across the console to give you a kiss. One last kiss before dinner.

It was never meant to be a secret, it just became one. After a few dates, and night in, it was official but not public. The rest of the team still assuming you were still best friends, where it started. The first time out with Willy after getting together, nothing had changed, the dynamic the same, allowing everyone to assume nothing had changed. Finding entertainment in their obliviousness, you kept the facade, seeing how long it’d take for the team to notice. Suspicion arose and was shut down by the rest of the team, leaving you and willy to laugh about it at home.

“Hear me out,” he started, still leaning into you, “We don’t hide, we just act like normal. Kisses, you sit in my lap,”

“Will, we already do that.”

“Not the kisses!” you giggled at his answer, his dramatic groan.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yep, we’ll do that.” you could feel his smile when he kissed you, before running out of the car to open your door.

“M’lady.” he grinned, reaching his hand out for you to take.

“You’re so cheesy!”

He led the way in, holding your hand the entire time, quickly finding the team. Team drinks and dinner. It was a usual thing, the entire team and the wags, you too even before you and Willy started dating.

“They’re here!” Auston cheere, pulling William into a side hug, forcing Will to drop your hand. “How have you been?”

“Tone, you saw me yesterday.” Will deadpanned, reaching for your hand again, making you slightly smile at his clinginess.

“See but maybe in those 24 hours, you finally got some.” Auston grinned, slapping Will on the back. Earning a choked out laugh from Will, clearly thinking back to last night, earning a smack to the arm by you.

“Well, princess, did you get any?” the attention switching to you, the nickname that had stayed since the very first meeting.

“Hmm, yep.” you grinned, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“What-” Auston, clearly not expecting the answer, choked on the water he was sipping, earning some pats from Mitch.

“Good for you.” Mitch grinned, staring at his best friend who sat beside him coughing.

“Hmm, it was very good, he really knew what he was doing.”

The words covering Will in red, earning some snickers from around the table.

“What’s up Will? You're all red, acting like it was you in her bed.” Micheal joked, turning Will an even darker shade of red.

The table was quiet for dinner, the food coming and silencing everyone after Micheal’s joke. Letting you and Will sit in peace for a bit, sitting curled into his lap. Grabbing whatever you wanted and making Will grab what you couldn’t, keeping your head against his chest most of the dinner. Sneaking kisses to his neck when no one was looking, leaving a hickey when everyone was too engrossed in the conversation to pay attention, earning groans in your ear, his head falling to your shoulder.

Then the drinks came, loosening the entire table up, people leaving to dance. The perfect time, dancing with Will.

“Will! Please we need to go dance!” you jumped up, grabbing his hands and pulling him.

“Slow, älskling.” he grunted after being pulled and almost tripped by you. Not having a second to catch up to your fast speed.

“It’s our song!” the words were rushed, much like your pace to the dance floor.

William knew it was, hearing the subtle music, letting you lead him to the floor. Following your lead when you went to slow dance with him, keeping his arms secure around you the entire time, letting you lean against him. He could see the other wags recording in the corner but he couldn’t care less, keeping swaying with you. You led him away after an hour, claiming to need another drink to pull him into a hallway to make out instead.

“You know, kärlek, we could be making out, out there.”

“That’s too much PDA.”

“So you shove me in a hallway instead?” he grinned, no harm in his tone.

“Exactly.” you whispered, kissing him again, letting your hands run through his hair, earning a groan into the kiss.

“We should go home.” he mumbled, still pressed against your lips.

“We just got here!”

“No we didn't, we've been here long enough.”

“Keep it in your pants Will.”

“Weren’t you just saying how good I was in bed?” the words earning smack to his arm and being drug back to the table.

“Shut up.” you groaned, seeing the smirk on his lips still, pushing him in a chair to sit on his lap, wiggling around a bit for him to grip your hips.

“Still.” the words were a growl, his eyes were filled with lust.

“What?” his eyes narrowed at the innocent act, earning a tighter grip.

“Don’t.” another growl, his tight grip giving you no space to move, letting out a whine at the lack of freedom.

“Willy let go!” you groaned, trying to shift. Earning a breathy groan from Will.

“Stop.” he loosened his grip, letting you slip off his lap.

“Are we sure they aren’t dating?” Auston spoke from the other side of the table, shocking you, not seeing him come back.

“No”

“Nope”

“Not a clue”

A collective answer of no following his question, earning a laugh from you and will, still never answering.

The night continued, similarly, sneaking off with Will to make out, more dancing and more drinks. Your filter disappears with the drinks, speaking more freely, acting on impulse.

“Willy” you groaned, reaching at his walking away figure, “Don’t leave me.”

“Älskling, I’m getting you water.”

Taking him by surprise when you practically jumped onto him, kissing the edge of his mouth. Making him turn to the side to kiss you properly, letting your hands reside in his hair.

“Älskling, what’re you doing?”

“Kisses.”

“Everyone, out in public, my darling we are in the middle of the bar with all our friends around.”

“Oh.” The response earned a questioning look.

‘What’s up? Do you not want to be seen with me?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You were my secret, I want to keep you only mine.”

“Oh min kärlek, I’ll always be only yours.” he whispered, kissing the side of your head.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” letting him leave to the bar to get water, claiming Will’s seat alone in the meantime, sitting with Auston, Mitch, Steph, and Micheal.

“Are we really going to ignore that?” Auston was clearly watching tonight.

“Ignore what?” Mitch asked, turning away from Steph.

“They just, almost kissed…?” the sentence came out sounding very confused earning a laugh from you.

“Who?”

“God, Mitch, keep up! Princess and Will.” Micheal groaned.

“Oh that’s normal, I don't know why you're talking about it.” Mitch commented, returning to steph.

“Here, älskling.” Will returned, handing you a cup of water. “Drink up.” he said, kissing the side of your head, standing behind you.

“See he doesn’t call any of us things in Swedish!” Auston’s complaint admit.

“That really what you want, dumhuvud?” Will smirked, earning a slap from you.

“Be nice.” Will laughed at your scolding, knowing the word from being taught by Will. Laughing in response, lifting you up, sliding to sit before placing you back on his lap.

Soon the rest of the team came trickling back, sliding in empty seats, dramatically claiming exhaustion. Starting random conversations again, curled on William’s lap, gently kissing his chest from time to time.

“Hey Will,” Zach called, earning a ‘hmm’ back from your boy, “What’s on your neck?” the words gaining the attention of the table, all the team coming over to see, chirping him immediately.

“Aye Willy got some!” similar cheers from other boys around the table, Will’s face covered in a deep blush, your face buried in his chest in an attempt to ignore the team.

“So you want to tell us about it?”

“No.” Will’s response was short, earning some laughs, earning some glares. But the team let it go, leaving you to tease Will some more. Kissing his neck, leaving more hickeys.

“Sluta.” he groaned, pushing you back slightly.

“Nej.” He didn’t say anything, leaning in to kiss you, his arms around your waist keeping you tight against him.

“LOOK!” Auston practically screamed at the scene. Earning some glares from other tables and confused looks from the team. “Princess and Will! I was right!” he was still oud, pointing at the scene, earning some eye rolls.

“Aus, this is not that revolutionary.” Mitch groaned.

“But none of you said anything, why was I the only one?”

“Because they already acted like a couple, we knew it was coming!” Zach complained, leaning back in his chair.

“So you’re done yelling at us?” The question was sarcastic, earning an eye roll from Auston and laughs from the others.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Auston whined, earning a smack from John and some mumbled ‘stop whining your not a child anymore’

“We meant to but we forgot? I mean nothing changed and then it became a game.” Will tried to explain, earning some laughs as he explained how you guys would make it a game.

The night ends peacefully, stealing more kisses now, getting interrogated about your relationship, childish groans from Mitch and Auston realizing that you were talking about each other in bed.

#mads writings!#william nylander #willy nylander #william nylander x reader #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #this was written when bunts was still there💔

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whore4hockeymen · 1 year

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Jealousy

~Trevor Zegras~

y’all don’t understand what this man does to me

no hate the Willy in this, I’m absolutely in love with that man, I just needed a guy to use. he’s portrayed as an asshole but i don’t actually see him like this lol.

TW: Fighting, Cussing, Not full-blow smut but very suggestive at end

word count: 1433

Trevor’s POV

Trevor was thankful for having a drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, but at times like these, he wished that he could put a plastic bag over your face. No, not just your face, your whole body. The two of you were at a media party with the Toronto Maple Leafs, just before the game that was tonight. And you had decided to wear the most mouth-watering, toe-curling, hottest dress ever, which he definitely made a note to thank you for later.

However, the dress drew the wandering eyes of too many people that Trevor was comfortable with. He gripped your waist, slightly embarrassed of the territorial feelings he had over you. But he worked goddamn hard to get you, he wasn’t letting you go. Unfortunately, Trevor was pulled away for an interview and you gave him a kiss before leaving to the bar.

“Are you confident in the game tonight?” The interviewer asked.

Trevor nodded, “Oh yeah for sure, I’m not saying the Leafs are bad, but I think we’ve honed our skills enough to beat them.”

The interviewer continued to talk, but Trevor’s eyes wandered away to you at the bar, talking to Troy Terry’s fiance and laughing. He went to look away, but saw William Nylander stride up to you and do a blatantly obvious sweep of your body. Trevor tightened his fist, but said nothing and kept watching the interaction between you and Nylander. He watched as Nylander stood a little too close to you for comfort and brushed his hand against your arm.

“Yeah that’s it,” Trevor said, ignoring the protests from the interviewer and walking over you. He draped a protective arm over your shoulder and plastered on a smile, “Hey baby,” he said to you and turned to William, “Hey Willy.”

William smiled, “Hey Trevor, I was just talking to your beautiful girlfriend here.”

Trevor’s teeth clenched, “Ah, well we best be going now, see you on the rink.”

He steered you away from Nylander and out of the room, you turned and draped your arms around his neck, his hands coming to rest on your hips, “I’m gonna go home and change and be right back for the game,” you said, smiling up at him.

All of Trevor’s annoyance sweeped away at the sight of your smile, “Aw, but I like this dress.” He laughed as you rolled your eyes and gave him a quick kiss, turning around to leave, “Wear my jersey, yeah?”

You grinned, “Always!”

A few hours later, the arena was filled with fans, chatting, and music. Trevor grinned as he did his warm-ups, he always loved the atmosphere of the games, and the fact that he saw you sitting up at the glass wearing his jersey made him happier.

The first period kicked off smoothly, with Troy scoring the first goal, but Matthews scored a goal at the last second. The second period was similar, Vatrano scored a goal and so did Marner. It was in the middle of the third period where things started to get rocky, Nylander had scored a goal and they kept pushing offense.

The puck flew to the boards and Trevor quickly skated over, but William was also there, the two of them struggling over control. That’s when everything went downhill.

“Your girlfriend is a looker eh? Mind if I have a hit?” Nylander said with a cocky smirk.

Trevor’s head snapped up, he barely even noticed Troy come in and take the puck, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

William leaned in, “I said, I want to fuck your girlfriend,” he pronounced each word slowly. That’s when Trevor lost it, he shoved William back into the boards and pinned him there, ignoring the shouts from the players on the ice.

“Keep talking Nylander, I dare you,” Trevor said, his hands starting to visibly shake.

“Why are you being so defensive Zegras? Scared that you aren’t pleasing her enough? Hey, maybe I can make her scream my name and you can watch to take notes.”

Trevor shoved him again and threw his stick down, taking off his gloves and throwing the first punch. William responded by taking off his own gloves and fighting back, launching himself at Trevor. The referees tried to get in between them, but he shoved them away. William landed a good hit on Trevor, he could feel his lip split open and start to bleed. He smirked and wiped at the blood with his thumb, proceeding to hit William in the jaw. Their helmets had come off by now, laying discarded on the ice. After a few more hits, and a little bit more spilt blood, the refs were able to rangle them away from each other.

Reader’s POV

You’ve seen Trevor in plenty of fights, but you had never seen him that mad before. You couldn’t hear what Willy said, but it sent your boyfriend into an absolute frenzy. The rest of the third period went by in a blur, with the Ducks being able to score two more points and winning the game.

Soon enough, you were driving the car back home with Trevor in the passenger seat, completely silent. You could tell he needed to cool off, so you gave him space. Once the two of you got to your shared apartment, he went straight into the bedroom and you went into the kitchen. You decided to grab him an ice pack for his busted lip and went to the bedroom. He sat at the edge, hands holding his head.

“Trev,” you said softly, he looked up at you and you walked over to him. Sweeping his hair back with one hand and gently pressing the ice pack to his lip with the other, “Are you ok?” He didn’t answer, he just stared at you for a moment before removing your hand gently. He stood up and grabbed your waist, guiding you back until you hit a wall, “Trev?” you asked.

Suddenly, his lips were on yours, tasting slightly like copper. He deepened the kiss, softly biting your lower lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your hands wander up to his hair, tugging on it slightly, to which he hummed in approval. A tap on your thighs signaled you to jump up and wrap your legs around him, you could feel him pressing against the area that was getting increasingly tense.

You tugged at his hair again as his lips wandered down your jaw line and to the soft spot between your shoulder and neck, definitely leaving a mark there, “Trevor, please,” you whined, hips pressing into his.

He smiled against your neck and went back up to attach to your lips. He turned the two of you around and placed you onto the bed, kneeling just above you. You watched in fascination as he took off his shirt, revealing his toned abs from his years of being an athlete. You immediately ran your heads down his chest and across his stomach, never tired of exploring every inch of it.

You went to take off your own jersey, but was stopped by his hands grabbing yours, “Keep it on, I like it on you.”

You smiled as he dipped for another kiss and slowly started to inch his way down your body. He went to slide down your leggings and panties, with your help kicking them off. Your legs trembled in anticipation as he stayed there at the base of your shins.

He picked your leg up slightly and pressed a soft kiss to it, “You’re all mine, you got that?”

You whined as his lips traveled up your leg to the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Unfortunately, he stopped there, teasingly drawing circles with his fingers on your other thighs.

“I asked, you got that?” he said again. You nodded your head, just wanting him to move his mouth a few more inches. He hummed against your thigh, an agonizing feeling, “Use your words sweetheart.”

He looked up at you through his thick lashes, “I’m all yours,” you said.

He smirked and finally moved, you ended up saying that phrase a lot that night.

#hockey players #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #hockey men #willy nylander #spice #jealousy #hockey #fight

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muppetjohntavares · 1 month

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Hate it when he goes, love it when he goes, you know how it is. (Willy Styles jersey butt appreciation)

(Picture credit to Minas Panagiotakis, Mark Blinch and Vitor Munhoz)

#this is completely serious i promise. i'm just obsessed with whatever is happening in that first picture #i know this isn't even ass out by his standards but i liked the combo of these :>#willy nylander #william nylander #toronto maple leafs #maple leafs #leafs #88 willy nilly #muppet edits leafs edition #muppet edits

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typical-simplelove · 3 months

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Guilty (W. Nylander)

Summary: Based on the title song by Jordana Bryant, it's easy to hide your feelings for your best friend because, after all, you're guilty of loving him.

Author's Note: Hi! This is for @lifeofpriya for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Word Count: 5k (Including song lyrics)

gif very generously made by @wyattjohnston :)

likes are appreciated, reblogs are better!

I've been working way too hard to act like I don't care If I got paid to hide the truth, I'd be a millionaire

Walking into Willy’s house always felt different from walking into your own house. Physically, it was different. The smells were different. The furniture was distinctly different from the ones your mother picked out. All of the wall decorations screamed Nylander in a way that you never knew possible until you saw those exact paintings. The pictures adorning coffee tables, shelves, and walls were different (obviously). All these differences were good, despite how different and odd it was.

Maybe it wasn’t the physical differences that impacted what you felt when you walked into their home. Maybe it was the smile and pat on the shoulder you got from Willy’s brother, or maybe it was the brief hug his mother always gave you, or maybe it was the way Willy would jump up and down until you took off your boots and coat before he could take your hand and drag you toward whatever toy or game he was obsessed with at that moment.

Maybe it was just Willy that made it different walking into his house in comparison to yours.

At your home, it was you and your family. While you loved your home and loved being at home, it wasn’t the same feeling as going to Willy’s house and seeing him. Part of him always made your bad days better. And that continued all through elementary school into middle and high school. You felt just as much at home with Willy’s family as you did with yours.

And a lot of that had to do with Willy.

One of the memories and traditions you have with Willy and his family is Christmas cookie decorating. Every Christmas Eve, your family and his would gather together and make and decorate cookies.

When you and Willy and your siblings were little, you would all watch your parents as they baked the cookies. You, kids, would sit at stools by the counter, drinking milk, and watching the cookies get made. Sometimes, you would play small card games—not getting in the way of the adults, making the cookies, and warming up with sips of wine.

That was how it was done.

As you kids got older, more freedom was given, and you were allowed to help with the baking but under strict supervision because after all everyone still planned on eating the cookies. Mostly, though, your favorite part was decorating the cookies. It wasn’t ever a competition, but between you and Willy, it was a competition. With that man? Of course, it was; everything is a competition to him.

It was always a competition of who had the most colorful cookies, who had the most realistic cookies, who had the least scary cookies, and who had the overall best cookies.

No one really ever wanted to judge the competition. It is always just you and Willy judging each other’s cookies, but because you were each biased towards your own cookies, no one was ever crowned a winner.

“Oh, come on, you know mine is better,” you would chide, sending him a sweet smile, hoping he’d also smile at you and declare your cookies better.

“They’re really not,” he’d reply, smiling at you, looking at you like you owned a sugar factor. “If anything, mine are better.”

An eye roll would always follow that because there was no way his cookies were better than yours, and oftentimes, yours were better because Willy just didn’t have that skill.

By the time all of the cookies were finished being decorated and all the milk drank, Willy ended up relenting, calling your cookies better. It didn’t take much nagging. By the time he relented, it would have been at least an hour or more since you bugged him about the cookies.

“I give up,” Willy would say out of nowhere. “Your cookies are much better than mine.”

“Really?”

“Mh-hm,” he’d tell you, nodding his head in a similar rhythm. “Always have been, always will be. That’s the way it goes. You always have been and always will be the better one between the two of us.”

Oh, the things those words did to your little middle school heart.

You look at me, I look away Wouldn't believe the energy it takes But I bet it shows, clear as a sign on the highway

It was sometime during your second year of university that you figured it all out. You were finally able to put words and attributions to the feelings and aura that surround all your interactions with Willy. For so long, you thought it was just an elevated friendship that you felt. You figured that all close friends felt what you felt whenever you were around Willy. Turns out, you were wrong on that front. It wasn’t just friendship. Sure, it was a deeper, elevated friendship, but it was love.

You loved Willy and have loved him for so long.

The little fireworks that explode all over your body when he hugs you or gently brushes against you are more than just friendship.

The warmth that consumes your body whenever he’s near you is more than just friendship.

The ability to know exactly where he was in a room without even seeing him means more than just friendship.

They were signs of love.

It was always more than just friendship, and it was always love for him, your best friend, your Willy.

And as much as you know that you want to tell him your feelings, you know that he probably and likely doesn’t feel the same way about you. You’ve seen the way he acted around previous girlfriends and people he liked, and he wasn’t that way with you. There was no comparison. So why would you put your heart and happiness on the line?

You weren’t going to tell him; you knew you couldn’t ever tell Willy just how much you loved him.

So you didn’t.

You were on the sidelines, and you were guilty of falling madly in love with your best friend. You were guilty of wanting his full and undivided attention. You were guilty of wanting his love and everything a life with him could bring. You wanted it all, but for the sake of still having Willy in your life, you knew you couldn’t say anything.

And you didn’t.

As you moved through university, moved around a little bit, trying to find the right job, you and Willy remained the best of friends. While communication occurred more through texts than phone calls, the connection never wavered. When you moved to Toronto, finally finding a job that fulfilled your needs and long-term goals, it was as if the puzzle pieces had finally fit in place.

Until you remember just how much you loved him and being around him reminded you of your life.

Every time he looked at you, sent a smile your way, laughed at one of your jokes, or praised you for one of your accomplishments, a little fire that only Willy could ignite would start and spark in your heart. There were little parts of your heart, mind, body, and soul that only were triggered whenever you were around Willy. You tried to set boundaries and give distance between the two of you, but sometimes, at the end of a long week or day, all you would want was to be around him.

He is the light and love of your life, and he only saw you as a friend. A close friend, a best friend, but still, only a friend.

It still pains you to think about the state of your feelings, but fully cutting Willy out of your life was going to do much more harm than good, you know. You know it deep in your soul, that’s why you’ve refused to fully step back from him and his life and orbit.

At the end of the day, all you were to Willy was a friend, and while you weren’t okay with that, you’ve found peace with it. You’re going to take in all the little moments with him, trying not to read into it too much, but you’re not going to hate yourself or be disappointed in yourself for soaking it in and loving it. Because, after all, you can’t control your feelings. It’s biological and psychological—things you can’t control.

You were guilty of falling in love with Willy, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

So, you’ve resulted in being his friend, and for the most part, you were okay with that.

Really.

Or so you tried to convince yourself.

That I'm guilty of love, guilty, so what? I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it I'm guilty of you stuck in my heart Guilty of wanting to be in your arms Wanting a kiss, wanting a call, wanting to fall I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all

“Hello, hello,” you hear Willy’s voice echo from the front door from where you’re sitting in your room. With a slight smile on your face and your face heating up, you walk out of your room to find Willy shrugging off his shoes, and bags in his hand.

“What’s this for?” you ask, helping take the bags from his hand, and leading him towards your kitchen.

“You know how we’re going to that concert in a few months?”

“Sure.”

“I figure that we could make friendship bracelets for them,” Willy says, hiding a cheeky smile, his cheeks burning red.

“Yeah?” you confirm, too, concealing a familiar smile.

“I figured it’d be fun to binge-listen to their discography as we make bracelets.”

You nod, trying to hold in and push away the feelings blooming deep in your heart. This man, oh, the things this man could make you feel with an afternoon of crafting.

With an emotion that can only be described as giddiness and elation, Willy pulls out the various friendship bracelet kits and separate bags of beads in your and his favorite colors in addition to various types of string. In doing so, he said various things that made your stomach clench, but for the sake of your heart and long-term plan, you pretend you’re not feeling those feelings.

“I didn’t know which type of string is best, so I figured we could just go with trial-and-error.” “There are more beads of your favorite color because I guess you’d rather wear those colors more than your lesser favorite colors.” “I remember you telling me the color of the outfit you planned, so I also got more of those beads.”

You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face with every word that left his mouth. Who knew this man could be so precious and thoughtful? Well, you did know just how precious and thoughtful he could be because, after all, you did fall in love with him.

“Are you ready to get started?” he asks, eyeing you, giving you curious but nervous looks. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I could always return it.”

Oh, he was so cute when he was nervous.

“Willy, I promise that I want to do this,” you reassure.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “I’m just going to go get some water.”

You nod, watching as he seamlessly maneuvers around your kitchen, grabbing water, snacks, and drinks for the two of you. The way he easily fit into your home life caused a knot in your throat. How easy would it be for him to fit and fill into the remainder of your life? Well, the delusional thoughts were going too far now; it’s time to pack those away.

As you and Willy began to make the bracelets, you managed to have fun, pushing away thoughts about you and Willy being more than friends. If you were going to survive your friendship with him, then you were going to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, choosing to remember the platonic moments between the two of you.

This plan went down the drain when Willy was having difficulty putting the smaller, letter beads on the string and you had to help him. As you helped him with your technique, your fingers often brushed against his. The roughness of the tips of his fingers but the softness of the palms of his hands overwhelmed you.

This man.

One day at a time is the way to go, right?

Yeah, I don't mind At least these words ain't locked up in my head Those eyes that smile Guess I was buying time 'til I confessеd

It was inching closer and closer to midnight, well past the time you should be in bed to have a decent amount of resting time before having to go to work tomorrow. But, it was as if your body wouldn’t let you finish your night routine and make your way to your bedroom.

You were sitting on your couch with a re-run of one of your favorite now-ended sitcoms playing in the background. It was as if you were glued to the couch. As much as you wanted to get up, you knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t.

It’s not like you don’t know why you’re stuck on the couch. You know exactly why you’re stuck there, and the reason just pains you more and more. It’s not like it’s his fault that the picture he posted on his private story would freak you out or pain you. It’s his prerogative. He’s allowed to hang out with whomever he pleases, and if they’re pretty girls with long, gorgeous legs, then so be it. He had his own life, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

There was a reason why you haven’t told Willy your feelings for him, and part of it is the fear that he doesn’t have feelings back for you. And, with that territory comes the idea that he’ll be spending his time with other people—other girls. You know how important it is for him to find a life partner, so of course he would be doing that on a night off when he didn’t have any early plans or obligations the next day.

That doesn’t mean your decisions and choices don’t haunt you and cause you visceral aching.

This now leads to why you’re currently sitting on your couch, unable to move, shocked at the pictures you’re seeing on his private story. He’s all over this girl, and this girl is all over him. Good for him, you think because this girl is gorgeous. Good for her, too, you follow up because Willy is a great person.

As the clock struck midnight and the minutes into the new day got closer, you kept replaying his story, overanalyzing the images, trying to see if there were any signs that he was being held captive. Because that could be an explanation, right?

By twelve-thirty, wiping away stray tears, you decide to get up and go to bed. This wasn’t going to help your feelings or make you feel any better. You’ve been good at hiding your feelings (at least you think so). This means that there’s no reason for him to think you want anything more than friendship with him, so why else would he be waiting around for you? You’re sure if you gave him a sign, then he would act on it if he felt any particular way about you. You also know that Willy is a confident person, so if he felt anything more for you, then he would make it clear. He’s not one to keep things hidden; he wears his heart on his sleeve and makes his thoughts and intentions clear. He would have told you or given you a sign.

Therefore, you conclude there shouldn’t be any reason for you to be upset by his hanging around this other girl. He has a right to do whatever he wants, and he does not need to listen to you or report to you.

With that, you place your phone on your nightstand and finish getting ready to go to bed. As you’re brushing your teeth, you tell yourself that you’re not going to check Instagram one last time before you sleep. You know that if you see another photo of him—regardless if anyone is in the photo with him—you’ll spiral and obsess over every little thing. He’s one of your closest friends (and vice versa), so every little thing that seems different in a picture, phone call, or text sticks out to you. You tell each other everything (for the most part), so little changes are interesting and concerning. And you want to notice something different so that you have a reason to text him or call him in the morning and bring up his night out. You wanted any excuse to bring up his night out without sounding jealous, bitter, or judgmental.

But for your sanity, you’re not going to check his story again. It wouldn’t do your mental health or relative stability any good.

By the time you’re ready to go to bed, you’ve considered picking up your phone at least two and a half dozen times, but surprisingly, your self-control is holding strong.

But you can’t fall asleep, constantly tossing and turning. It’s a quarter after one, and all you want to do is call him. Even if it’s not about his night out or anything important, you want to talk to him. His smooth, deep voice never fails to put a smile on your face and calm you down. In some instances, his voice can put you to sleep.

As much as you want to call him, part of you knows that you’ll be nosey and ask about his night out and what he did, and just hearing what he did—whether or not he tells you the truth—will pain you in ways unimaginable. You want to know, but you also don’t want to know. Though, you still want to hear his voice.

Man, having crushes and being in love is so embarrassing sometimes. Why, just why??

You don’t call him, and end up falling asleep a little while later after tossing and turning. It’s for the best, you reason. You wouldn’t know what would happen if you talked to him. Maybe it’d be best just not to bring tonight up at all, you know, out of self-preservation.

Little did you know, Willy was sitting in his bed, alone, trying to find any reason or excuse to call or text you. Just so that you had something to wake up to from him in the morning.

So now you know, so do all my friends And the town's smaller than it's ever been They all know

After obsessing way too long about the pictures on his story from that night a few weeks prior, you thought you had gotten over it. You thought that you could ignore the ugly feelings of jealousy and dread deep in your stomach weren’t there. You thought you could look at Willy and not immediately picture the images of him with that girl.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he knew what him living his life was doing to you, and you weren’t angry at him. You were jealous and sad and wished you could control these ugly feelings. You wished those images weren’t seared into your memory, but they were, and you felt those feelings.

But the way you felt when he smiled at you greatly topped the other feelings you had.

Until he flashed that smile, those sparkling eyes, that persuasive tone to some random girl at the bar.

It wasn’t the same person from the other night (you would know; that image is burned into your memory for the rest of your life). It was someone else, but from the way Willy was looking at her, he seemed into her, despite only meeting.

The bartender had just taken Willy’s order, but within seconds, he was flagging them down again and asking that girl for her order. Once it was taken, his hand was low on her hips as he pulled her closer to his body.

He was whispering into her ears, and it made your stomach drop. It felt like you wanted to throw up, but you were wedged between some friends. A glance at the bathroom’s long line made you realize that the chance of a swift escape was futile. He’d be waiting for you, and at this moment, you didn’t want to explain to him why you didn’t want to talk to him.

It wasn’t like Willy knew what he was doing when he was doing this. At the end of the day, you and Willy were just friends, so it didn’t matter.

But.

But, oh gosh.

Weren’t you just so guilty for the way it made your heart patter every time he glanced at you? Weren’t you so guilty for how happy it made you feel when you’d look over at you and you’d see that he was already looking at you? Weren’t you incredibly guilty for how happy it felt when he chose to sit next to you? Weren’t you incredibly guilty for the happy feelings you felt when he’d text you, even if it was over something mundane?

All those happy feelings were flushed down the drain by the way Willy touched that girl’s hair and lingered his fingertips down her neck. It wasn’t his fault, but the way you felt couldn’t be controlled. While you recognized that, it still hurt knowing you couldn’t have your best friend like that.

You’re gripping your glass tightly, hoping that none of your friends can sense your inner turmoil. They would try to get you to talk to him, or they would try to get you to get over him. Neither of those options was one you wanted right now. Or maybe ever.

When you happened to look up at Willy and that girl, shock hit you as you watched him already looking at you over the girl’s shoulder. She was whispering something to him, but all he was doing was looking at you. By the way that she was pulling at his hair, it was something intimate, but he was staring with his eyes open right at you.

That was weird.

Right?

Clearing your throat for no one, you broke the intense stare and looked down at your phone, checking your phone for the millionth time. You’re staring at the notifications on your lock screen so intently that you don’t notice Willy slide into the booth next to you.

“Was she not your cup of tea?” you ask, internally smacking your face for asking that.

He shrugs. “She’s really pretty, and I’m sure she’s a great person. I just wasn’t feeling it.”

You snort. “That’s such a dude thing to say.”

“Hey!” Willy says, feigning annoyance, slightly pushing your arm. “I have my eye on someone else, so it would be fair to that girl.”

“If you have your eye on someone else, then you should just tell them,” you reply, your heart beating rapidly. “If they know what’s good for them, they won’t turn you down. I can promise you that.”

Willy’s eyes are intently staring at you.

“Okay,” he replies, eyes not leaving yours or blinking. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you answer.

“Okay,” he responds, the air thick with tension. If he wants to say something else, he doesn’t. Either he loses his nerve or it’s the burst of laughter to your right that strikes him out of the trance.

Not you, though. You’re not entirely sure what just happened. Did something just happen?

I'm guilty of love, guilty, so what? I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it I'm guilty of you stuck in my heart Guilty of wanting to be in your arms Wanting a kiss, wanting a call, wanting to fall I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all I'm guilty of it all, all, all, all, all

At first, you didn’t think it meant anything. It was a common saying, and you said it all the time. And then he kept on saying it, and you figured that he was just feeling insecure in his friendship or maybe his job or maybe just in his life in general, so you responded and just helped him know he had you as a friend. You didn’t think it meant anything until it did mean something and you realized what he meant.

“I like you,” Willy told you one day while watching a rerun of your favorite show.

“I like you, too,” you reassured, patting his hand before grabbing the next pencil crayon for your color-by-the-number coloring page.

“What?” you heard him mumble. He shook his head to himself before turning back to the show.

The next time he did it, you and Willy were walking through the grocery store, finding snacks to bring to an upcoming football night.

“I think four bags of chips should be more than enough, considering we’re also bringing cheese and crackers,” you said out loud but mostly to yourself.

“I like you,” Willy responded, grasping a bag of chips on the shelf.

“I like you, too, but that doesn’t mean we need five bags,” you commented. “Unless, you wanted that bag for your apartment, then do whatever you want.”

With that, you grab the shopping basket and start walking down the aisle toward the next thing you need.

And it kept happening. At random moments, he would just tell you that he liked you, and it didn’t really click in your mind. In a sense, you’re similar. When things get tough in any part of your life, you reassure yourself of your favorite things in your life as a grounding technique. You didn’t think anything of his words.

Until he said it to you once, and his face was burning red—the only time you’ve actually looked at him when he said those words.

It was game night at your place. Well, a game night for you and Willy, and you were playing Monopoly. He had just landed on one of your properties, and you were looking down at the property listing to determine how much he owed you.

“Eighty monopoly dollars for New York Avenue please,” you said with a small smirk, looking up. You scrunched your eyebrows when you noticed the little beads of sweat at his hairline and how red his face had gotten. “It’s only eighty dollars, Will.”

“I like you,” he whispers, barely meeting your eyes. With his words, his face grew a deep shade of red, and his frantic blinking seemed to be what made you finally realize the meaning of what he was saying.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of where to go next. You’ve been in love with Willy for as long as you can remember, and now that you know he feels the same way, you’re not sure where to go from here or what to say. What does one say to their best friend that they’ve been secretly in love with for years and were convinced that there were never any feelings between the two of them?

And then all the times he said those words to you over the past few months came rushing back to you.

Months!

He’s been telling you he loves you for months, and you kept brushing it off.

You have to give him credit for not giving up.

But, you still have to face plant. And you do.

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” you keep chanting to yourself as you push your chair back and make your way to your kitchen counter to get a drink of cold water. You’re both happy that you know but you’re also embarrassed at yourself for not noticing.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hear Willy mumbling from where he’s sitting at your table just a few feet away. That takes you out of your trance. He must think you’re rejecting him.

“No, stop,” you blurt out, rushing towards him.

You’re standing next to him, and he shifts in his chair to face you. He’s staring straight ahead, not looking up at your face. Gently, you wrap your hands in his hair and angle his head to face yours.

“Did I do something wrong?” he whispers.

You shake your head. “No, I’m just an idiot.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for so long, and you didn’t say anything. At this point, it’s gotten pathetic,” he whispers, his eyes closing at the way you’re massaging his scalp. “Please tell me if I’ve gotten it wrong.”

“I got it wrong if anything.”

“Really?” Willy’s eyes open, lazy from being comfortable with the way you’re holding him.

“I like you, too, Willy,” you whisper. “You know, maybe I even love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A lot, and I’m really stupid for not recognizing what you were saying. I guess I was completely convinced you could never love me that I didn’t take it as that.”

“Love?”

“Shit,” you murmur, pulling your hands out of his hair.

“I’m joking,” Willy says, smirking and pulling you down on his lap. “I love you, too.”

“Okay,” you smile, leaning in to give him a small kiss.

“Okay,” he replies, closing the space. “Always okay for you.”

You were guilty of loving Willy, but he was also guilty of loving you, so maybe it all worked out in the end.

Was guilty of love, so what? If I'm guilty of thinking of you too much These feelings just won't quit So I'll admit it

#willy nylander #william nylander #claudia writes #hockey fic #nhl fic #willy nylander x reader #william nylander x reader #op: 2024 #nhl writing #hockey writing

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