drewsbuzzcut

[drewsbuzzcut]

Also Lyla and Jeremy coded

[drewsbuzzcut]

via nhlbruins

[drewsbuzzcut]

Ly and sway coded

[drewsbuzzcut]

Oh my🤭 this is sooo sweet

I love how it went from reader reassuring Mat to Mat reassuring reader. And Mat playing the guitar??? He’s so perfect actually😩

ALSO! “No. You. Always you, baby. There is no him without you. No me either. At least not the version I wanna be.” This line has got me near tears. I have all the feels right now

Wildest Dreams - [Mat Barzal]

Summary: Mat and his wife take turns worrying about if they're ready to be parents.

Word Count: 3.2k

Main Tropes: New Parents, Pregnancy, Established Marriage

Before I even open my eyes, I’m annoyed.

I know I haven’t been sleeping very long, can feel it in the way my brain is still running a mile a minute, churning in the darkness of mine and my husband, Mat’s bedroom. 

I never sleep well when Mat is on road trips and definitely not on the nights that he comes home to me. I get excited. Like it’s our first night sleeping together all over again. I hope that never fades, no matter how long we are together. No matter who else joins us in our place. 

As if to let me know he too is waiting for Mat, our son kicks his feet into my ribs. I let out a soft grunt, then put a palm over where I felt that. For feet that look so tiny on an ultrasound, they sure pack a hefty kick. After settling the baby as best I can with rubs and steady pats, I close my eyes again, willing the delicious tug of sleep to find me. 

Did I turn the oven off? I suddenly wonder. I made chicken nuggets and tater tots for dinner because that was all I had energy for. But now at- I turn over- 2:30am, I can’t remember if it’s been on since dinner time. I probably did, I assure myself. I force my eyes back closed, hugging my pregnancy pillow close to my body. Against my will, my brain continues to check in about the oven.

Are we sure?

Like sure, sure?

What if we aren’t sure and then we burn the house down?

Where will we bring the baby home to then?

“Damn it.” I hiss into the dark, throwing the comforter off my legs. I wiggle my way to the side of the bed, getting my feet grounded in the rug before I begin the journey out to the kitchen. On the way, I pass by our wedding pictures lining the hallway. They’re all stunning, black and white candids, exactly what we asked for. Mat’s smile is wide, nose scrunched, I can hear his laugh through the photo and that’s exactly why it is up in our home.

An amazing day, capping off an amazing chapter of dating and prenuptial bliss that eased us into a marriage better than we could have anticipated. A celebration of the decade, our families had announced the following day.

The celebration keeps getting better, even after a few years of being married. The honeymoon phase has stuck around, convincing Mat and I that it’s never going to end. This bliss is exactly why we decided to begin a leisurely journey of growing our family. After seeing a few of our friends and family members struggle to conceive, we figured giving ourselves a long runway to take off into parenthood would help cushion our expectations from disappointment. 

The universe had other plans. 

I was pregnant within the first week.

I'm 8 months pregnant now, but I can still hear every skipping inhale and exhale of Mat's lungs as we started down at the positive test together. 

"Okay. We are doing this." He had finally said then gave me a tentative smile. "I'm happy. Really happy. Just..."

"Surprised." I nodded in agreement. "Me too." He grabbed my upper arms, holding me gently. 

"Are you okay?” Worry lines creased his forehead and deepened his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm okay if you are?"

"Then we both are." He assured me before pulling me into a loving, secure hug.

There were a few more moments of shock and overwhelm in those first few weeks, but once we moved out of the first trimester, anticipation and wonder took over. We dreamed about our baby all the time. We gushed about all the experiences we wanted to share with them. We discussed what features of us we hoped they would get and which ones we hoped skipped them. We talked about what names we wanted to go by, not realizing how many different variations there were for mom and dad. When we found out we were having a boy, those conversations got even deeper as our baby began to form into a person like he was already Earth side with us. 

Telling our family was the best part. We waited until we knew the gender then I showed up packing a 19 week baby bump. My mom and Mat’s mom had fainted into each other. Liana had tackled Mat to the ground, literally. Then our dreaming because everyone’s dreaming. Baby boy Barzal can’t get here fast enough. 

A rustling of fabric from the next room over has my attention pulled off the picture of Mat and I grinning after eating pieces of our cake. I take a few cautious steps, then relax when I see the source of the noise.

Inside the baby blue nursery is my husband, wrapped awkwardly up in one of the gifts I received from the Isles ladies baby shower last weekend.

"For fucks..." Mat trails off, turning to the side with one end of the wrap in one hand. The other sweeps along the floor as Mat spins in a circle trying to gather it up. I can't help but giggle. It starts off silent, only moving my shoulders, then gets louder as he spins faster as if that will help. Mat stops abruptly, looking wide-eyed at me in the doorway. "Uh..." He looks to the side then grins sheepishly.

"What are you doing?”

"Practicing." 

"Mhm." I murmur, pushing off from the door jam to meet him on the fluffy rug in the shape of the sun.

"The directions are in Spanish." Mat insists when I go to grab the white paper tossed on the changing table. This is why my dad built the furniture for the baby's room. 

"Babe..." I trail off, flipping the booklet over.

"Oh." Mat stares down at the paper in my hands but doesn't take it. His eyes trail up to mine and I can see the turmoil. "I'm scared." He blurts out. “What if I’m not good at this? What if I’m not what he needs?”

“Mat-” He shake his head vigorously, not allowing me to say anything more.

“Baby, you have to say nice things about me. The guys laughed when I told them you were pregnant! Laughed! Their asses off! What if they know something I don’t? That I’m going to be so bad at this people will want to take him away from me… from us!?” His hands rush through his black hair, forcing it to spike out in various directions. 

“Mat, I was there. They were laughing in excitement for us.” I assure him, running my left hand up his arm. I trail the right over his other arm, locking my fingers in place behind his neck. My belly bumps into his abdomen, drawing Mat’s eyes down to it. 

“This is so out of my wheelhouse.” He sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “And I know you’re going to be so good at raising our son. You deserve a partner who knows what the fuck to do.”

“I have one of those.” I drag my face up, letting my lips find his by feel instead of sight. “This kid is so damn lucky to have you as a dad. You’ll be there for him. You’ll love him. You might not be home every night to tuck him into bed, but he will know how to much you want to be. That’s a great dad.” 

“I don’t know how to change a diaper.” He reminds me with a heavy sigh.

“That’s why we are going to class.” I chuckle.

“I sucked in school.” He huffs. “Pretty sure I can’t even read.” He flicks the paper directions for the wrap.

“The team needs to start winning soon. I can’t take this version of you much longer.” I tease, kissing the corners of his mouth as his lips turn into a knowing smile. “You were fine before the team went 1-4 on this road trip.”

“I should be better there too.”

“I love you.” I say, shaking my head in wonder at his constant desire to improve and evolve. He doesn’t see it now, but that is what will make him an amazing father. That isn’t something I can tell Mat; he will need to learn and experience it from his own perspective.

“I love you too.” 

“You’re actually not that far off from this.” I say, tugging at the wrap around him. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” I stick my tongue out in the corner of my lips then work the fabric until it is snug. I walk over to the shelf where a few of our son’s stuffies rest, waiting for him to arrive. I grab the white one with red hearts for paw pads then walk back to Mat. I stick it into the wrap, adjusting the material as I do so the bear is fully supported. “There! See! You’ve got this.” I smile at him. Mat looks down, then runs a hand down the back of the bears fur. He sighs heavily, hopefully releasing some of his worries with it. 

“I need to be good at this. For you. For him.” He quietly admits. 

Being something that matters this much to Mat is special. Soon our son will know what that means too. 

+++

8 lbs, 6oz has never sounded so angry. 

At 12 days old, Bennett Barzal has lungs louder than a missile.  

The increased noise has my tired brain frantically trying everything it can to remember what the hospital and baby books said to do to soothe him. The Isles are on the road and without Mat, I feel lost and out of sync with what to do with our baby. This is the second night out of three that I have had an impossible time getting his down to sleep after 11:00pm. He wakes up for his feeding and everything is going well except for when I try to put him back into his bassinet. All he wants is me and as adorable as that sounds, it’s also extremely overwhelming. 

Mat is on his way home and I’ve been desperately trying to get Bennett back to sleep. I’m afraid for Mat to come home and see me this way. I don’t want him to worry about us. I want to be a successful mother who know how to soothe her kid. But as I try a new hold on him, Bennett shrieks turn louder. 

As much as I don’t want to, I begin to cry. The room surrounding us is a mess of bottles, different types of pacifies, different onesies, and a few diapers that the wings ripped off because I was so desperately trying to change Bennett as he wailed about the coolness of the night. Nothing about this room says that I have any part of parenthood figured out. It screams failure instead.

I finally understand the worries Mat had when I was still pregnant. 

What if I’m finding out I’m not cut out for this? 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” A hiccup rocks through my body. “I don’t know what to do.” The stakes feel so high now with a child. Making the wrong decisions doesn’t only effect Mat and I anymore. It effects our child and I can’t stomach the thought of disappointing them.

At that admission, more tears spill off my lashes. I try to do meditative breathing but it comes out as long puffs like a dragon. I’m in a messy haze of panic still when I hear the lock twist on the front door. I turn towards where Mat is walking in, still clutching our son. Mat looks so tired, bleary even, he probably fell asleep on the plane and is still disoriented. He blinks then frowns as he registers the chaotic scene of the living room.

"I'm not good at this." I stutter out, eyes wild from a lack of sleep and worry. Mat instantly begins to shake his head in disagreement.

"Baby, you are perfect." He quietly corrects.

Mat puts his bags by the door and walks into the room. When his arms go around me, holding both of us to his chest, the world gets quiet even as the baby continues to scream against my chest. Every fumbled worry and trembling thought evaporates with his touch. His lips brush my hair for a moment, then stick firmer when they get to the skin of my temple. 

"I'm home now." He assures me. "We can do this together." 

He soothes all the unspoken worries l stuck to my tongue. I peel my face off his chest, looking up at him with full, soaked eyes. His sideways smile has me surrendering. 

"I've tried everything." I quietly reflect. "He wants none of it." 

"Okay." Mat nods, trusting my words. "What can I do?" He asks it in a pondering way as if he is a new ingredient to this mismatched equation. The backs of his knuckles float to our son's clenching back.

We stand there in the living room together, unsure. Mat rubs his back. I try remembering the 5 Ss. Mat’s hand goes to my hips, circling his thumb into my side to comfort me too. Suddenly, Mat's finger halts. 

"I have an idea.”

"Anything." I agree, not even needing to hear the next few words to trust his instinct. 

"Come with me." He threads our fingers together, then leads me down the hallway. "I'll be right back." He says, leaving me by the couch.

I sway back and forth, patting our son's butt until his father reappears. In Mat's hands is the wrap he has been working on mastering. He begins to double wrap it around my waist, then up around my shoulders. Together, we work the pieces around the baby. I adjust the wrap as best I can before we work our son into the fabric one limb at a time. His little body shakes with his heavy wails. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I feel my maternal reaction heightening. I start bouncing on my toes, Mat kisses my cheek comfortingly.

"Two more minutes. I know this will work." He promises, brushing my hair over my shoulders so it is out of the baby's face. 

"Okay." I respond weakly. 

Mat turns and drags the big ottoman we have in the room closer to me. As he heads to the corner of the room, he says, "Sit if that's more comfortable. Or stand. Whatever you think you two will like best." His hand wraps around the neck of the Gibson guitar he learned to play on during COVID. He uses his electric guitar more now in his Long Island jam band, but cranky babies require a softer approach.

I cautiously lower myself onto the couch, eyes getting misty as Mat works out the cords to tune them appropriately. In my mind, I'm transported to soft date nights at home where Mat would play for us. The baby would get still and quiet, almost like he was listening. It worked to soothe him on the nights he preferred to be a gymnast instead of sleep at 2:00am. Nights similar to this one. Mat would always end with an excited "I can't wait to play for him when he is here."

Now is Mat's moment. One he has been preparing for years before we knew what the future would hold for us.

Soft musical notes begin to work from the center of the guitar as Mat picks at the strings. It's a song I'm not familiar with- one Mat has never played for us before. 

"You gonna cry when you raise your hands in church. But you'll act tough when those sticks and stones and heartbreaks hurt.”

Against my chest, heavy cries begin to die out almost instantly at the sound of the guitar and Mat’s tentative singing voice. My thumb strokes across our son's red cheek, taking the tears off his skin, but my eyes don't leave my husband. I'm captivated by him and the sureness he radiates.

"Be a shoulder to lean on and honest when you need some with a smile that can light up a room. Just like your mama, no bull and no drama, you'll know who you are and you'll know who you ain't." Mat's mouth stretches into a sweet smile when he says my new name. Our son's tears are dying down and mine are growing. "In the mirror might look just like me. But deep down, boy, I pray you'll be, just like your mama.”

"Babe..." I sigh, reaching for his thigh. I brace my other hand on the back of our son's head so I can lean forward into Mat's shoulder.  He stops singing, but keeps strumming the guitar, kissing my head before he continues with the song.

"You might steal a sip of Crown from your old man's cabinet.”

"He would never." I insist with a quiet yelp. I rub my thumb over Bennett’s thin baby hairs, not able to handle the picture of a teenaged boy who breaks our rules. The world is cruel and unfair, so I'm sure he will look exactly like a teenage Mat Barzal- driving all the girls wild and us crazy. Okay, maybe I can picture it perfectly. Shit. "We need to lock up the liquor right now.”

Mat laughs, stopping the song for a moment. Our son begins to whimper again.

"Don't stop." I lift my head, connecting our eyes. Mat quirks an eyebrow up at me.

"You used to say that for different reasons." He teases gently before continuing with the lyrics. "You'll never meet a stranger and proud of where you came from, steady as a Midwest summer sky.”

I run my hand up his thigh to his stomach, letting my finger nails trace and scratch at his thick abs under his shirt. Mat gives a crooked smile, keeping his eyes on me as I innocently rest my chin on his shoulder. My body protects the baby from bumping into the guitar. I can feel his little sigh against my chest as he settles deeper into my skin. I run my hand vertically up and down his back, relieved to see this working perfectly for the three of us.

"I love you." I coo to Mat as he plucks away towards the bridge. 

"Baby boy I can already see, you're better than my wildest dreams, just like your mama."

Mat finishes the song with a few more cords, then tentatively pauses, fingers still ready if needed. We both wait, seeing if our baby will reawaken with the quiet. He doesn’t. His little body rises and falls steadily now, likely exhausted from crying so hard.

“Mat?” I whisper.

"Hm?" He asks, not taking his eyes off our sleeping baby.

"You're good at this.” I announce. When he turns towards me, I collect his cheek with my hand. My thumb brushes his angular cheek bone. Our eyes meet for a moment, then his close. He turns his nose into my palm, kissing there then working down to my wrist. He pecks over our wedding date inked permanently there.

"Best thing that ever happened to me.”

"He is." I murmur back.

"No. You. Always you, baby. There is no him without you. No me either. At least not the version I wanna be.”

We weren't sure how this was going to go.

We thought we needed more time to prepare.

Guess there are some things in life we just have to figure out as we go.

More hockey fics of mine are here for your enjoyment.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Some things I’ll be working on this week:

Model’s baby shower

Nolan’s first bday

Lyla seeing the aurora borealis for the first time

Jeremy proposing to Lyla

[drewsbuzzcut]

Jeremy With A View

Jeremy Swayman x Lyla Blair

A Masterminds fic

Warnings: smut!!!

Takes place during 23-24 offseason

Jeremy watches Lyla as she’s perched on his lap, soft legs straddling his strong ones. She’s donned in a silky, skimpy pajama set. The thin strap slides down one of her shoulders and she works it further down, slipping out of it. His fingers touch her hand and eventually takeover. He gently undresses his girlfriend, hungry eyes drinking in each slice of her bare skin that he uncovers. The sun seeps in through the window and casts her in an ethereal glow. A chill rolls through her body, making her shiver and reach out to his shoulders. She lets out a hesitant giggle as she scoots closer to him.

“I think I’m a little nervous,” the girl admits, distractingly tracing random patterns on his skin.

Lyla feels kind of silly about it. It’s not like they’ve never had sex before. There’s just something about the way they’re moving so slowly and intimately that makes this time different. It’s the first time they’re going to truly make love to each other, and it excites her and scares her all at once.

“Don’t be. It’s just me,” his words wrap around her in tandem with his hands. He leans forward and presses soft kisses to her neck and chest, savoring the thrum he feels running through her.

Lyla nods and waits for his next move, breath stuttering in her chest. Jeremy wraps a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss as he flips them over.

“I love you,” she breathes out after separating from his mouth. The girl is still on cloud nine after finally telling her boyfriend the L word and hearing it back.

He leans down a bit, appreciating her boobs and littering them with kisses and swift licks to her nipples. A airy sigh crawls up her throat and her body jolts in response.

“I love you.” He smiles so happily it takes her breath away. “My heart is pounding,” he adds.

To calm himself, he sets his forehead on hers. Lyla sets her hand over his heart, smiling at the way it thunders for her, because of her.

The goalie lets his lips ghost her skin in a trail to her ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and igniting everything on fire.

“I want you,” Lyla says in a breathy gasp.

Jeremy sheds his pajama pants and peels her shorts off. He hovers over her body, a hand pumping his erection and the other dipping into the arousal between his girlfriend’s legs.

“Look at you, baby. You’re making a mess on my hand,” Jeremy groans, bringing some of her wetness up to her clit.

“Oh my god.” She squirms and shifts her hips, slowly grinding against his hand.

He lines himself up with her heat, but doesn’t give her what they both want. Instead he lets his length slide through her slippery folds. His hands grip her bucking hips and he has to clench his eyes shut in concentration, so that he doesn’t explode before he can even feel her around him.

“Jeremy, please,” the girl begs and pulls him closer.

“I know. I know,” he mutters into her cheek, finally thrusting inside of her.

“Fuc-“ Jeremy swallows Lyla’s moan, his tongue caressing hers as he sheathes himself deep inside of her pussy.

He grabs onto her wrists and presses them down into an area of the bed above her head. Electricity creeps up his spine, feeling the way she flutters around him as her wet walls adjust to his size.

Flitting her eyes up from where they connect, she stares into Jeremy’s earthy pupils. They’re a shade darker due to Lyla’s doe eyes and how her swollen lips part as she pants.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck, you’re so wet. Who are you wet for, Ly?” He grunts against her jaw, nipping at her skin to retrieve more of her squeaky moans.

“You. Only you, baby,” Lyla sighs as the vibration in her body starts to make itself known. She can feel the muscles in her body start to tingle and tighten the more her orgasm starts to build. She wants to shut her eyes and focus on the lust curling around them, but she’s too enamored by her boyfriend’s sweaty chest and flexed biceps. Don’t even get her started on the gold chain he has around his neck. It dangles in her face tauntingly, just daring her to tug on it.

A particular snap of the goalie’s hips sends the tip of his cock straight to her soft spot.

“Oh,” Lyla cries out, body arching off the bed. Her hardened nipples graze across his chest and something about the sensation makes him lose control. Her hands slip away from under Jeremy’s palms and fly to his broad shoulders, baby pink nails sinking into his skin. Everything slowly melts away, all the outside noise becoming static and her vision growing fuzzy.

Eventually he lowers her body back onto the plush mattress. Jeremy’s hands are warm and comforting around her torso. His forehead finds hers, keeping her grounded and steady.

“You like that, Lucky? Does it feel good?” The words are spoken sweetly, but Lyla can feel the heat behind them. She easily bends to its will.

“So good. I want more,” she pleads, legs squeezing around his waist, her pussy purposely squeezing down on his length.

Jeremy slows his tempo, teasingly working his way in and out of her. His thrusts are languid but deep, stroking her sensitive walls until she’s quivering.

“I can feel you clenching down on me. Cum, baby. Cum for me,” the hockey player whispers, lips against the shell of her ear.

“Oh my god,” Lyla whimpers, her body going rigid. Fire rushes through her veins, her body releasing its tight coil as her orgasm washes over her. She tightly wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s upper back, needing to feel his skin melding to hers.

“Holy fuck,” Jeremy groans, his face finding the hot flesh of her neck as he continues to rock into her. His lips attack her racing pulse, sucking the skin and letting his tongue soothe the area. The feeling of his girlfriend’s heat contracting around him makes his eyesight go white. He can feel every single pulse around his cock and her arousal slipping down his shaft, triggering his own orgasm.

“Shit,” he groans, cock jerking almost wildly, filling his girl with his release.

“I love you. I love you,” the girl chants like it’s some kind of prayer, lips finding his in her post-coital bliss.

“I love you,” he hums into her mouth. The goalie brings a large paw to her neck, thumbing at her throat before cupping the side of her face.

“You’re perfect,” Jeremy whispers, leaning back up and letting his nose nudge into hers to elicit a sweet hum.

“Says you.” Lyla palms at the red blush covering his skin, the heat sinking into her bones.

“Thank you for being here. It means the world to me for you to experience my hometown.” Lyla pouts at his vulnerability and she just has to kiss it away.

“Thank you for wanting me here. This place is so magical. I don’t think you understand just how much I love it already,” she says, staring out the window at all the trees and mountains painting the Alaskan skyline.

“It’s your home just as much as it is mine, if you’ll have it.” Jeremy speaks so simply, so genuine. Lyla wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I want nothing less,” the girl voices, flipping them over and settling into her boyfriend’s warm chest.

a/n: Not sure how I feel about this, but I do hope y’all enjoy! There’s more Lyla and Jeremy in Alaska in store…

[drewsbuzzcut]

How about you tell US how your weekend was 🥹🥹

B! Hi🫶

It was good! I stayed inside most of the weekend bc it was very hot out. I rewatched a ton of movies and read many fics on here. I needed a little break from writing, but all is well now. Hopefully I get back to writing sometime this week

[drewsbuzzcut]

Hey babes!!! I really miss y’all😭

Let’s chat! Give me any ideas/thoughts or tell me how your weekend was

[drewsbuzzcut]

Model’s favorite thing of the week: Mat massaging her back with his very large hands. He also adds little kisses to her neck and upper back and shoulders. Model just melts into the bed

[drewsbuzzcut]

Lowkey forget that this is Sienna’s first time having a wag jacket…

[drewsbuzzcut]

Model has been loving her pregnancy pillow and honestly so has Mat (besides the fact that he isn’t the one holding her). He likes to lean his head on a part of it while holding onto model in any way he can

[drewsbuzzcut]

There’s so much ring camera footage from when model and Mat were just dating. Each little clip is of him dropping her off at her apartment and not being able to let go so he can leave. He just holds her and kisses all over her face

[drewsbuzzcut]

Nolan thinks it’s the funniest thing ever when model kisses Mat when she has lipstick or lip gloss on. He laughs hysterically

[drewsbuzzcut]

Bedroom thots with mat and model pleaseeee new ones

Hmmm let’s see…

I know I’ve talked briefly about when Mat wins the cup, but let’s just say their sex is the hottest thing ever. They’re buzzed on excitement and a bit of alcohol and they cannot keep their hands off each other. They’re staying in a hotel for a little staycation and they have sex on every single surface. I don’t even think they ever put any clothes on or left the hotel room (there were definitely complaints about them)

After a little event celebrating one of model’s magazine covers, Mat cannot help but rip her dress off of her. He gets so feral and they don’t make it to the bed. They just go at it on their coffee table in the living room

Their sex in Italy during the offseason? Unmatched. Everything is more intense and sexier. They’re biting at each other and May can’t keep away from between model’s thighs

[drewsbuzzcut]

Hey lovelies! I miss y’all🫶🫶

[drewsbuzzcut]

Lyla and Jeremy staying somewhere tropical during the offseason… their hotel or airbnb has a secluded backyard/patio situation. Lyla loves to sunbathe out there (naked) and it’s Jeremy’s weakness. He just has to go out and join her, kissing on the butterfly tattoo of her hip and appreciating her body under the sun

[drewsbuzzcut]

I think this just made me a stolarz fan… this fic was soooo good. I need more

Shatter Me With Your Touch | Anthony Stolarz

summary: your older brother mitch marner has only ever asked for one thing: never, under any circumstances, hook up with one of his teammates. and you're going strong....right until anthony stolarz shows up. (the 3 times you and anthony push the limits of your secret relationship, and the 1 time it bites you in the ass).

[word count] 4.7k

warnings: NSFW! slight age gap | marner!reader | secret relationship | brothers teammate | drinking | swearing | kissing | sexual acts | smut | p in v intercourse | getting caught | mature themes and dialogue | view at your own discretion

a/n: this is purely stemmed of this blurb—and you will be seeing the same scene in this story. I just knew I had to further explore this story line and share this cute and love story! plus there’s never enough stoly!

see my other brothers teammate 3 + 1 series here

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

one

your brother mitch marner has always been protective. like the kind of stereotypical protective that makes you want to rip your hair right out of your scalp, and gauge your eyes out anytime you're at the family dinner table and he starts asking your boyfriend a million questions��questions that are nothing but patronizing. honestly, protective doesn't do it justice, unreasonably overprotective is a much better fit.

you're his younger sister, two years younger than him to be exact, and because of that age gap, mitch has always felt the need to look out for you and your feelings—especially when it comes to dating.

and it's not for no reason, because you? you've always been the kind of person who would give the shirt off your back if someone else was cold, and the kind of girl who would think bare minimum behaviour was god sent. you are almost too kind and forgiving. maybe even a little naive.

from a young age, mitch saw the way people took advantage of you and your kindness, and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe and out of harms way. when you started highschool—and begun dating and going out—mitch's protectiveness only got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. your brother would drive boys away with menacing looks, and what he called 'stern talkings'—which are also known as straight up threats.

high on changing hormones and left feeling trapped, it didn't take long into your junior year of highschool for you to break. you sat both your brothers down—because yes, they were both ridiculously protective—and begged for them to chill the fuck out. you yelled and cried and practically shook their shoulders until they agreed to relax.

christopher was never really the problem, so he backed off instantly. mitch though? he took a little bit of extra convincing. after you got to your knees and pleaded, he had sighed lowly, meeting your eyes before reluctantly nodding. but before you got too excited, mitch had said—"under one circumstance."

and that circumstance? you will never, under any circumstance, date his friends, and you certainly will never date his teammates. obviously, with this new found feeling of freedom and independence that came with mitch’s compliance, told your brother that he'd never have to worry about that.

and for years, everything was going according to plan. your and mitch's relationship grew into a friendship now that he felt he no longer needed to constantly hover over you, and you kept your dating pool out of mitch's circle of friends. it wasn't difficult considering most of mitch's friends where your friends, and you didn't see them in that way. and then when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates over at the house—so you never had the chance to met them, never mind get to know them.

you can remember steph, all bleach blonde hair and bubbly grin, would beg for you to join her at the games. small hands pulling and tugging at your arm like an over excited kid in a toy store. but you weren't really interested at that point in your life. you were still a few years younger than them and with your last year of high school being so busy, frankly, you didn't the have time to sit at a cold arena for three hours.

"maybe you'll find a guy," steph used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the family living room.

you always responded the same way, "im not into hockey players."

when mitch made it to the nhl, that's when you started going to games more often. your schedule was less hectic and more open, and you always jumped at the chance to spend time away from dorm rooms and frat guys. plus, you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brothers or your parents.

as the years passed, and you and mitch got older, his dating rule or protectiveness over you never wavered. sure, he wasn't as intense as he once was—keeping his cool like you asked him too—but mitch never truly changed. he just became better at hiding it. and now with his life in the spotlight, your brother truly just wanted to keep you safe. from the media of course, but especially from the new group of sleazy guys that are coming in and out of toronto.

much to his relief, you never planned on rebuking mitch's dating rule. you had a job, and aspirations and went out with your own friends and found guys on your own accord. hockey players were long gone in your mind.

but then, anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile and completely turned your world inside out. anthony is older than you, 6 years older than you to be precise—he's mature, but doesn't take himself too seriously. he's outgoing and sweet and fucking huge. seriously, he could crush your head with his bicep. anthony had introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly had you feeling…things.

anytime after that, if you were in anthony's presence, you automatically became flustered. it doesn't help that he always chose to sit next to you, and talk lowly to you, and smile at you from across the room. anthony's had all those new faces and teammates to spend time with, and yet he only seemed interested in spending time with you.

and steph? she knew you like him. your sister-in-law is your number one supporter but also your biggest enemy, you swear. anytime mitch or someone else in a room would mention anthony's name, or she would spot you and the net-minder within five feet of one other, steph was wiggling her brows at you and grinning like the devil.

and it's fine, you thought. it's just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you'd get over it. it's not reciprocated. that flurry of feelings you grew for anthony would soon blow over and you won't have to walk on eggshells around mitch anymore—too afraid that if you breathed the wrong way, your brother would find out about your embarrassing crush.

expect it was totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and access to a private bathroom at some fancy toronto bar after an important win, you and anthony snuck off—giggling like tipsy kids in between kisses and breathless moans as anthony's length slide through your gummy, arousal coated walls.

just when you thought it would be a one time thing—a one night stand that helped get your feelings for anthony out of your system—it happened again in a supply closet during a marner foundation event. and then again in anthony's car after you two went to dinner as 'just friends'. and then again in your apartment, and then his and before you realize it, you are having sex every other night.

and kissing and laughing and ordering in your favourite take out and watching movies together.

in the blink of an eye, anthony stolarz is your secret, older boyfriend.

in the first few months, you're both really good at keeping your relationship under wraps. you set struck rules for yourselves—like standing at separate ends of rooms, no longing stares in each others direction, no dates in public, and certainly no sneaky displays of affection in places where someone could see.

but as you fall more and more in love, it's harder to hold back, resulting in more than risky situations that might as well have you begging to get caught.

—

the chatter flows around you, warm and breezy, the contagious laughter of william nylander and rumbling voice of john tavares familiar sounds where they cut through the chimes of utensils on plates.

your dinner sits in front of you, mostly untouched, but not for a lack of hunger. in fact—you're starving, maybe just not for food. because with anthony beside you, looking extra large and delicious in comparison to the dining room chair he's sitting on—a dining room chair that isn't that small...he's just that big—it’s hard to focus on anything but him.

casually, you stab some of the mini roasted potato's with your fork, keeping your eyes trained on aryne tavares and jake mccabe’s wife on the other side of the table—the latter of the two women talking about some new palates class she's started.

everyone is either listening to her, and if not her, a different conversation that’s happening along the stretch of the tavares’ dining room table. without looking away from the girls, your free hand leaves your own lap, and ever so gentley—as if not to startle him— it finds anthony's knee.

you scratch along the taut muscles underneath his jeans soothingly. teasingly. each pass of your fingers climbing higher up his leg.

and anthony knows what you're doing. he's all too familiar with it. he fights off a smirk and the urge to look over at you, clearing his throat quietly before taking a large gulp of water. you’ve got him all hot and bothered and he’s definitely getting hard in his pants.

you catch the movement out of the corner of your eye and a grin grows across your face. flattening your hand on the top of his thigh, you let your pinky finger brush over his bulge like the little shit you are.

that makes anthony choke on his gulp of water, which gathers the attention of a few of the guys and their significant others around you.

quickly, before you get caught feeling up the newest leaf goal tender under the table, you bring your hand back to your lap—playful smirk never wavering.

"you good stoly?" max domi asks curiously, eyes squinted in a mixture of concern and humour. anthony can only hum while wiping the dribble of water from his chin with the back of his hand.

casually, you rest your chin on your palm—the same palm that was just on anthony's leg. your eyes flicker with something teasing, "yeah, everything okay?"

anthony lets out a short laugh, shooting you a look—a look that others may just think is friendly, but you recognize it as a warning. a wordless demand to behave. it only sends your stomach into a twirling thrill.

"yeah, just swallowed down the wrong hole."

but even still, anthony can't resist teasing you back once all eyes are once again distracted, ring finger slipping under your skirt and passing over your lacy underwear until you're biting down on your knuckles to ensure no sighs slip out.

steph shoots you a look, which makes anthony pull away—sporting a smug grin on his face as he chews the piece of asparagus he pushes past his upturned lips.

two

it's not very often you get tipsy at leaf games. usually you're too busy hiding your face behind your hands in a stressful manner, or entertaining the gangle of children running around the suite. but today, for some reason—and that reason being $1 beer night—you're not just tipsy, you're borderline hammered.

it takes steph a whole 10 minutes to get you out of the suite and down to the tunnel—coaxing you out of there with reassuring words and an amused glint in her eye. because yeah, drunk people are annoying—especially when the other party is sober—but you're so funny and floppy right now that it makes up for the amount of alcohol you consumed.

and when steph manages to finally get you down to the tunnel, and you lean you against the wall, and you stay there...she considers it a small victory. but that all changes when anthony makes his way out of the locker room, looking divine in his dark suit and hair damp from a shower—smile wide and high off a win.

you sigh dreamily, head rolling back against the concrete wall as you watch his movements. anthony hasn't spotted you yet—which is probably a good thing for your sake, because the sight of his eyes right now would send you into cardiac arrest. but then a frown is pulling at your lips. because pontus holmberg pulls his girl into his arms and kisses her, and you just want to act normal and be able to go up to your boyfriend. kiss him silly in front of everyone.

it wasn't uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph after games, especially when you've driven to the rink together. which is the case nine times out of ten. typically after a win, steph would want to see mitch before heading home, especially because mitch likes to go out for dinner after good games.

so everytime you'd be waiting in the tunnels, you'd have to physically restrain yourself from runnning towards anthony. he will always smile at you when your eyes catch—definitely a little too sexy of a smile for trying to be discrete. but that was always it. besides some eye playful eye tag, neither of you ever pushed those boundaries.

not when your brother could walk out at any moment and catch you.

but once again, you're well passed tipsy, and you just want to love up on your man like all the other wags get to do. so before you can even think logically about your actions, your feet are moving, and moving in anthony's direction, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the lingering crowd.

and steph doesn't try and stop you. she just covers her eyes with an exhausted hand, blowing a quiet raspberry to herself as she represses a laugh. you told her about your secret relationship with the newest leaf goaltender 4 hours after that team dinner. because like usual, your sister in law read you like a book and had in incline before you even said anything.

anthony's in a casual conversation with morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him—not until you're right in front of him and the defence man.

you wrap your hand around anthony's bicep, blinking up at him with glassy eyes just as you stumble on your own feet. if it wasn't for your hold on your boyfriends arm, you'd be halfway to the floor by now.

"hi," you beam unashamedly, glossy lips tempting him in ways you'll never understand.

anthony swallows, his bright eyes squinting down at you with amusement. he shoots a tentative glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—which, god damn it tessa, because obviously you had to tell her too and clearly she’s told her husband. "hi," anthony parrots after a beat.

"missed you," you slur, pushing up onto the toes of your heeled boots and puckering your lips expectantly, "can I have a kiss?" you hum, body swaying.

anthony laughs shortly, rubbing the back of his neck while he subtly scanning the room—checking to see if anyone is watching. more specifically, anybody who definitely shouldn't be watching. also known as mitch marner, who is one of the many people who still don't know about your relationship.

and for now, you'd like to keep it that way. not that drunk you cares though.

morgan has slipped away from you both now, and there's only a few lingering bodies left in the tunnel. anthony spots steph, now eyeing you sneakily. which means your brother is still here. in the locker room, yeah, but still here.

"we really shouldn't." anthony mumbles, eyes finding your glossy ones again. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady the drunk sway you have going on. slowly, he licks along his bottom lip, words no louder than a whisper, "your brother could catch us."

"so?" you huff, pushing even further up his body. clearly, you don’t give a damn. "just a quick kiss." you say, hands flat against his chest, still searching for a smooch. you're too happy on beer and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn't care less about anything besides your gigantic, sexy boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

so quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, and connects your lips together. he's just a man after all, and with a pretty girl like you begging and blinking up at him, who's he to say no?

the kiss doesn't last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine pathetically when anthony pulls away from your mouth. you're not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

"i'll see you later, kay?" anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips once you drop back down to your heels.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, "love you." you sing song dreamily.

he smirks, "love you too."

three

to say you and anthony became comfortable in the secrecy of your relationship was an understatement. you were really pushing your limits now, making out in the guest bathroom of auston's matthew's condo like a pair of porn stars—slow, syrupy and messy.

once you told steph and tessa about anthony, it wasn't soon after that the rest of the wags found out—all of them sworn to the upmost secrecy—and in turn, a lot of their men found out as well. which wasn't your most ideal situation, but after threatening to cut their balls off, they seemed to be able to keep their lips zipped.

that knowledge amongst the majority of the leafs roster definitely contributes to the more relaxed approach you and anthony find yourselves in, in regards to your relationship. you tell yourself that's the reason you decided to sneak off to the bathroom today—even though you would've ended up here regardless. anthony is looking way to sexy today to just ignore.

and you? you've been driving him insane all evening with your pretty skirt and top and the perfume clinging to your soft skin—perfume that smells like sex. anthony can't help but trail his lips down your taut neck, inhaling the smell like it's his own personal drug.

the sound of your breathless gasps and mewls quickly has anthony returning his mouth back to yours though. because you're truly irresistible to him. always have been. as soon as your lips are back in their familiar dance, everything else fades away. the distant chatter and rapid heart beats between you—none of that exists anymore.

anthony's large hand slides up the side of your bare thigh, lifting your skirt higher and higher up your leg, while his tongue prods the plump skin of your bottom lip. you allow him the entrance he's seeking instantly, which makes anthony smirk into the kiss.

the counter top is cool under your skin where you sit on top, making your arch away and further into anthony's hold. but he doesn't mind one bit—grabbing at your skin and pulling you even closer, your barley covered core rubbing against his and creating delicious friction.

it's erotic and dangerous and you really should've double checked that the door was locked. because the feeling of dread and anxiety that surges through your boood stream when that bathroom door is thrown open is other worldy.

anthony pulls off of your mouth just as you let out a breathless gasp, both of your heads turning towards the entry way.

"holy fuck—sorry." auston matthews familiar voice has turned high pitched, which can only be a result of embarrassment and surprise as he registers the scene in front of him. and just as quick as he opened the door, the captain is slamming it closed.

silence envelopes the bathroom once again—but you can't hear anything over the blood pumping in your ears. you're both frozen in place—you, on the bathroom counter, legs still spread and lips glistening with a mixture of your and anthony's saliva. and anthony, 5 steps away from you, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled and chest heaving.

once your brain catches up to what the fuck just happened, your quickly slipping off the counter. you stumble briefly, but that doesn't slow you down as you practically run after auston matthews.

you could try and deny it, but your actions speak for themselves. and what auston just saw? there's nothing in the world that you could say that would make it innocent. so that only leaves you with one other option: begging.

thankfully, auston didn't get far, and you catch him easily, fingers enclosing around his thick wrist to halt him. he spins around to face you, dark eyes still wide with disbelief and...maybe a little bit of amusement? it's hard to tell when you're so panicked.

"auston," you start, gaze all but frantic, "please please please, don't say anything about what you just saw to anyone. especially mitch. he doesn't know yet, and if this is how he finds out—"

"hey," auston interrupts with a short laugh. "calm down, you're stressing me out."

you blink what feels like a hundred times and you drop his arm. auston's gaze flickers over your shoulder briefly, eyes glimmering with something unknown. curious, you find the subject of his attention.

anthony is behind you, lips slightly parted as his gaze narrows in on the goal scorer. it's then you understand that look in auston's eyes—it's understanding. it's a promise to anthony's wordless plea.

"don't worry kid," auston says once you turn back towards him, "your secret is safe with me."

+one

the leafs have a rare off day today—only two days before their two week long road trip over on the west coast—which means that anthony had no other plans but to be with you. more specifically, in bed, taking turns with either licking into your pussy until you're making a mess on his tongue, or pounding into you until the headboard is smacking against the wall.

it's very rare that the two of you get to have alone time, never mind getting to have proper sex. so when this kind of opportunity arises, both of you are taking it without a second thought.

you can't complain really. not when your legs are over your boyfriends thick shoulders, his cock perfectly massaging your gummy walls as he thrusts into you. the sounds between you are lewd—slapping and squealing and desperate, needy pants and grunts.

you've gone dumb on anthony's cock as he splits you in two, your jaw slack and eyes glazed as you peer up at him. and anthony fucking loves it. his hand grips your jaw firmly, keeping your eyes trained on him. the pad of his thumb pulls down your bottom lip, slowly, as a smirk grows on his face.

"gunna miss you when i'm gone baby," he pants, movements never faltering, "i'm gunna miss your pretty pussy—fuck."

the only responses you can manage is another drawn out moan and your fingers gripping his bulging biceps even tighter.

—

mitch marner pushes the front door of your place open with his hip, too busy balancing your moms homemade casserole in his hands to open the door properly. it’s your favourite home cooked meal, ready to go in a glass dish, that bonnie marner insisted mitch drop off at yours before making his way home.

his car keys are held tightly between his lips, giving him limited opportunity to make a coherent sentence, but he calls out a muffled greeting to you regardless.

no response.

mitch's brows furrow as he puts the food dish on your kitchen island. he drops his phone and keys beside the dish before spinning on his heels, peering into the living room where you're normally hiding—tucked under some fluffy blanket with a book in your lap.

the books there, open and face down on the coffee table—blanket at the foot of the pink chair—but you're nowhere in sight. a rush of panic washes over your brother. mitch had texted you 10 minutes ago, just as he was leaving your parents, to tell you he'd be stopping by with a mountain of food, but he didn't get a response then.

and then once he got here, your front door wasn't even locked. which wouldn't of been that crazy if you knew mitch was on his way over, but your lack of response has mitch second guessing your knowledge of his arrival.

"y/n?" he calls your name again, spinning around for good measure to make sure he didn't miss you the first time.

it only then does he spot a pair of shoes next to your usual slip ons—shoes that are definitely way to big for you and definitely belong to a man. logic goes out the window in that moment because mitch hums curiously, walking down the hall towards your closed bedroom door.

mitch doesn't even hesitate before turning the handle, "y/n? who's here?—ah, what the fuck?!" your brothers words die on his tongue at the sight of you and his goaltender in bed...together...doing things that make mitch want to bleach his eyes out.

it's bad enough to walk in on a family member having sex, but when the guy pounding said family member just last night was laughing and chatting like nothing was happening, makes mitch fucking shiver. oh god, he literally congratulated anthony on his win last night. little did mitch know the real prize for anthony stolarz was getting to fuck mitch marner’s little sister.

"oh my god!" you shout, wrapping the floral bedsheet around your very naked torso. "get out!"

and mitch doesn't need to be told twice. the bedroom door slams shut—so loudly and with so much force that the pictures hanging on your wall shake. regardless of the door now being shut, mitch covers his eyes with his hand while he physically moans and cringes for extra measure.

"oh my god," his voice sounds from the hallway, all dramatic and whiny. "my eyes."

you and anthony share a look—a look that's a mixture of terror and concern. because not only does mitch now know that you’re together in this capacity, but he's also just seen his baby sister having sex. you jump out of bed, tangled in your bedding, and stomp towards the door.

you don't open it, not yet, but you smack the wood wildly. "mitchell, what are you doing here!"

"I was trying to drop off some of mom's casserole—I texted you! I can't believe what I just saw." the latter party of his scentence trails off, tone low like mitch is saying it to himself. mitch swallows dramatically, rubbing at his face. "I'm gunna puke."

you laugh in disbelief. "you're gunna puke? i'm going to die."

the springs of your mattress creak behind you as anthony gets out of bed. slipping on his boxers, he makes his way towards you—all broad and warm as anthony comes up to stand behind your bare, glistening back. he reaches for you, squeezing your bicep comfortingly.

guilt prickles at your skin, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit—gnawing your plump skin until it feels sore. anthony kisses your head subconsciously, a gesture that calms you down just enough to enable you to squeak out an apology. "i'm sorry, mitchy."

emotion clogs your throat and it makes your brother sigh, hand falling from his scruff and hitting his leg with a soft thud. "don't cry, y/n."

ever so slowly, the door squeaks open—not fully though, mindful of the sheet covering you—and your head pokes out. your eyes are glassy and your lip wobbles and the protective older brother side of him wants nothing more than to fix this.

"are you mad at us?" you sniffle.

us.

through the slim space between the door and the frame, mitch has a harsh reminder that anthony stolarz is with you—his t-shirt strew across the bench at the end of your bed, his cologne clinging to the sheet around you. hell, mitch can see anthony’s fucking gigantic hand holding the back of your neck softly.

he's comforting you.

mitch sighs reluctantly. because yes, he's not thrilled with this entire situation, but clearly, anthony is a good guy—your brother has a front row seat to that—anthony is a man who clearly cares for you. "i'm more mad about you not knowing how to lock doors than anything else."

you breath hitches, a glimmer of something that feels like hope tickling your heart, "really?"

a slow nod, "yes." mitch's eyes fall over your body, or rather, your sheet, and he shivers again, turning away to give you privacy and himself some fucking peace of mind. "now just...get dressed and we can talk about it."