m34tthews

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER EIGHT

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 11k

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — thank you for your patience and all the support <3

masterlist

their days had started to stretch sweet and golden, stitched together with the comfort of shared toothbrushes and folded sweatshirts in each other's drawers. auston and y/n moved in a rhythm now—quiet, consistent, like two hands ticking along the same clock. felix’s leash by the door. coffee in mismatched mugs. her curled in his passenger seat with a yawn as he drove her to work, always five minutes early just to sit in the parking lot with her. sometimes he dropped off lunch with a grin, other times he lingered at the clinic, chatting with her boss in the staff room as if he belonged—and truthfully, he did. her coworkers had started referring to him as your guy, and auston would just smile, the good kind that pressed dimples into his cheeks.

they didn’t always sleep together. well—they did, but on nights when she had early clients or morning evaluations, she’d kiss his forehead, whisper something about needing rest, and go curl up in her own bed. auston never liked it, not really. neither did she. the space felt colder when they weren’t tangled up in each other, but she was disciplined, always thinking ahead. and he respected that. even if he lay on the couch staring at the ceiling for too long before falling asleep.

that morning had been one of those. she’d stayed over, kissed him softly just after five, and slipped out of the room so he wouldn’t wake. he had grumbled in his sleep, reaching for her. by the time he blinked awake, she was already gone.

he’d planned to pick her up after her shift. even texted her around lunch and offered to bring something, but she said she’d eaten already. still, he was antsy all afternoon, checking the clock, thinking about her laugh, the scent she left on his hoodie, the way she leaned her head against the car window and hummed when she was tired.

he walked into her clinic ten minutes before she wrapped, fully expecting to sit and scroll or maybe peek in if she was in one of the break rooms. but then he heard it—soft at first. a kind of muffled sniffling. not dramatic. not attention-seeking. just raw.

his chest tightened instantly.

he followed the sound with quiet steps, turning the corner toward the closed consult room, and when he opened the door, the breath left his lungs.

she was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, head buried, shoulders trembling. her white coat hung loosely from her frame, her name tag askew. her bun had come undone at the nape of her neck, pieces falling around her face.

“hey—hey, hey,” he said quickly, rushing in, his voice low but urgent. “what’s going on?”

she didn’t answer at first, only cried harder when she saw him. he was down beside her in seconds, pulling her into his chest, his arms locking around her tightly as she sank into him like she’d been waiting for it all day. he kissed her temple, then her forehead, his hand soothing up and down her back as he whispered her name.

“i’ve got you,” he said softly. “i’m here. you’re okay, baby.”

her hands fisted into his shirt, face pressed to his chest. the sound of her crying was unbearable. he hated it. he hated seeing her like this. it was the kind of pain that made his ribs ache with helplessness.

he adjusted, sitting back on the small couch, and gently guided her into his lap, one arm around her waist, the other wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“please talk to me,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her eyes. “it breaks my heart to see you cry, baby. please…”

she blinked up at him, lashes wet, nose red. her voice was hoarse. “i had to put a dog down today.”

auston’s expression softened instantly, thumb still moving gently beneath her eye.

“he was old,” she continued, “but he wagged his tail. even on the table. he was so good. and the owner—she was shaking. she kissed his head and thanked me. thanked me. and i just—”

her voice cracked again, and she broke, burying her face back in his chest.

“you don’t have to say it all now,” he murmured, “just breathe. you did everything right. i know you did.”

“it’s just been a long week,” she whispered, quieter now. “a couple of the kids i see—they’re not improving. and now this.”

he held her tighter, anchoring her with his body, his warmth.

“you carry so much,” he said against her hair. “and you still show up. you’re still the best at what you do.”

“i didn’t feel like it today,” she mumbled.

“even on your worst day, you’re incredible. you hear me?”

she nodded into his shirt, drawing in a slow breath. she didn’t cry again, just let herself sink into him, let the steady beat of his heart soothe her in a way nothing else could. he stayed quiet now, just running his hand over her back, fingers slipping beneath the edge of her coat where her blouse had come untucked.

eventually, she pulled back enough to look up at him. her eyes were still puffy, but the tears had dried.

“you’re gonna ruin your shirt,” she whispered.

he smiled a little. “worth it.”

“i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“and miss the chance to hold you when you need it?” he shook his head gently. “not a chance.”

her throat bobbed. “thank you.”

he kissed her again, softer this time, just below her eye. “you don’t have to thank me. just let me be here for you.”

and she did. she leaned in, her forehead against his, and breathed him in like he was the only thing tethering her to the ground.

outside the room, the rest of the clinic carried on. but in that little bubble—just the two of them, a couch too small, and a moment too big—they found their stillness again.

a few moments later, the knock was soft, tentative—followed by the creak of the door opening just enough to let in the silhouette of her boss, voice gentle.

“hey,” he said, eyes flickering between auston and y/n curled against his chest, “i… heard. i’m really sorry.”

y/n straightened slightly, blinking the wet from her lashes, her voice hoarse as she moved to sit upright from auston’s lap. “i’m okay,” she tried, wiping beneath her eyes quickly. “i can keep going. i’m fine.”

her boss stepped in, face full of quiet sympathy. “you’re not. and that’s okay,” he said. “y/n, you don’t have to pretend in here.”

she opened her mouth again, trying for composure, but he gently cut her off with a small raise of his hand.

“auston,” he turned slightly, addressing him now, “you can take her for the rest of the day. i’ll close things up.”

“really,” she said again, already pushing off of auston’s lap, sitting beside him now, her palms pressed to her thighs. “i don’t want to leave anyone short. i can handle it.”

“you can,” her boss agreed kindly, “but you shouldn’t have to. not today. this morning took a toll on all of us. he was a good dog. and you were his comfort in the end. that stays with a person.”

y/n dropped her gaze to her hands.

“i’m going to do a few check-ups,” he continued, “and then we’ll close early. spend time with your loved ones. it’s not good to keep everything bottled up.”

auston glanced over at her the moment the words left his mouth. loved ones. it hovered in the air for a beat too long.

he watched her carefully—eyes soft, studying the twitch of her mouth, the way she nodded slowly, wiping beneath her eye with the heel of her hand.

“okay,” she said finally, voice quiet. “thank you.”

her boss gave her a small, meaningful hug before stepping back. “take care of yourself, y/n. that’s not just advice I give to clients.”

he left with a reassuring smile, closing the door behind him.

as soon as it clicked shut, auston turned to her, one arm already curling around her back, voice low.

“i’m gonna take care of you,” he said with quiet conviction. “we’ll go home. order your favorite. lie around with felix. or we don’t do anything at all. whatever you need.”

y/n looked up at him, eyes still tired but heart warm. she leaned into his shoulder again, nodding softly.

“anything. just… don’t leave,” she whispered.

he kissed her temple. “i won’t.”

the bed of auston’s truck was warm beneath them, softened by a spare blanket he kept in the back for post-skate cooldowns and now, nights like this. the pizza box lay open between them, crusts half-eaten and growing cold, and the tub of ice cream sat dangerously close to melting on the folded flannel between their legs. the sun had long dipped behind the horizon, streaking the sky in burnt pink and sleepy lavender, the breeze picking up as the city lights far below flickered to life one by one.

she hadn’t said much since they got there.

not out of discomfort—just a quiet heaviness he didn’t press on. auston knew her enough now to let the silence speak for her, and tonight, it did.

felix snoozed somewhere behind them, the smell of oregano and sweet cream lingering in the air, and auston just waited. occasionally grazing her hand with his thumb, brushing her knee, letting her be still until she was ready.

it took a while.

her voice was soft when it came. “i didn’t always know.”

he looked over at her, giving her his full attention.

“that i wanted to be a vet,” she clarified, eyes on the lights below. “i didn’t figure that out until a bit after i started undergrad.”

he stayed quiet, letting her go on.

“i was originally in management,” she said, almost like she couldn’t believe it herself. “business admin or something like that. my parents thought it was smart. i thought it was safe. i hated every second of it.”

auston’s brow furrowed. he nudged her gently. “you? hating school?”

she smiled faintly. “worst time of my life, first semester. i was so… lost. i didn’t know what i was doing or why. i didn’t make friends. i barely went to class. i cried more than i care to admit.”

he hated picturing that. her, curled in on herself somewhere in a too-big lecture hall, folding in on all the parts of her he knew now were made to shine.

“my mom noticed,” she said after a beat, voice smaller. “i’d come home and just… go straight to my room. barely ate. slept all the time. they didn’t push, not at first. but then she sat me down and told me i needed to find something that didn’t feel like punishment. that maybe i should try volunteering. see if something felt like me.”

she shifted a bit, pulling her knees to her chest. “so i did. animal shelter near our place. i thought it’d just be for the credit. but then… it wasn’t.”

auston leaned against the side of the truck, elbow on the rim, chin resting on his palm as he watched her speak.

“they needed people to walk the dogs and clean cages. basic stuff. but something about it… the way those animals looked at you. like you mattered. like they were scared but still chose to trust you. i hadn’t felt like that mattered to anyone in a long time. it gave me more than just joy. it gave me purpose.”

she looked at him then, really looked at him. “it was the first time in months i didn’t feel like disappearing.”

auston’s chest clenched. she hadn’t told him this before. not in this way.

he reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers slowly.

“you know,” he said, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, “that version of you you’re describing? that lost girl who didn’t want to be seen? i would’ve never guessed.”

she smiled, barely.

“all i ever saw back then,” he said quietly, “was someone who made the smartest people in the room look average. who let me copy her answers and then made me feel stupid for not getting it. you were so sure. so… you.”

her laugh was brittle. “i wasn’t always.” a pause, then quieter: “and i still don’t feel like that most days.”

he tilted his head, studying her.

“how is it,” she said, voice breaking a little, “that i can walk into that gala, have people call me brilliant, talented… and then have days where i can’t even get through the damn afternoon without feeling like i’m failing?”

his chest ached at how broken she sounded.

“because you’re human,” he said softly. “and because you care. the work you do—it’s heavy. it’s messy and unpredictable and hard as hell. people forget that loving something doesn’t make it easy.”

she blinked fast, biting her lip.

he tugged her until she leaned over and settled between his legs, her back against his chest, his arms curling around her.

“you know what i think?” he murmured against her temple. “you’re the most capable person i know. and the fact that you still question yourself? that just means you give a shit. it means you want to be better. that’s not failure, y/n. that’s strength.”

her breath stuttered.

“it’s hard,” he added, softer now, “feeling like you’re failing at something you’re suppose to be good at. happens to me all the time.”

that made her turn her head just enough to glance at him. “really?” she asked, disbelief curling into her voice. “auston matthews? mr. multiple 60-goal seasons?”

his lips twitched. “i forgot you’re a hockey enthusiast now”

“sue me,” she said flatly, cheeks warming despite the night air. “i get curious sometimes. want to know how many people scream your name on any given night.”

he laughed then, easy and bright, and she felt it vibrate through his chest into her bones.

“those season?” he went on, voice gentler now. “yeah, it was a big deal. but it wasn’t perfect. i had stretches where i felt off. or useless. especially this past season. i was out of my element . like nothing i did would matter, no matter how many people were cheering.”

she turned slightly, watching his profile in the soft spill of light. he looked serious now, thoughtful.

“the season’s long,” he said, “and sometimes the only reason i make it through is because i have teammates. guys who hold me accountable. who remind me what i’m capable of when i forget.”

he looked down at her, voice steady.

“you don’t have that. not in the same way. you carry all of it—your clients, your staff, the lives you save—on your own shoulders every single day.”

her lip wobbled, and she blinked hard.

“you’re amazing, y/n. you’re smart, and patient, and so goddamn good at what you do. you love what you do. that’s rare. and the animals? they love you for it. felix is in love with you, and he’s a terrible judge of character,” he said lightly, kissing her hair when she gave a watery laugh.

his arms tightened around her, anchoring. “you don’t need to be perfect every day,” he whispered. “you just need to let someone show up for you. even if it’s just to eat ice cream and say nothing for a while.”

she turned in his arms, folding herself into his chest, and he wrapped himself around her like a second skin—warm and steady and unshakable.

“you’re not failing,” he added after a moment. “you’re just tired. and when you’re tired, i want to be the person you lean on. like i lean on my guys when the puck’s not going in.”

“auston,” she whispered, voice tight.

he kissed the corner of her mouth, gentle. “let me be your teammate, baby. i’ve got you.”

the buzz of the tattoo machine thrummed low, blending into the soft music spilling from a speaker in the corner. the shop smelled faintly of antiseptic and ink, sterile yet warm under the muted glow of overhead lights. y/n sat cross-legged on a small black stool, close enough to feel the heat radiating off auston as he stretched out on the padded table.

“you doing okay?” he asked gently, his voice soft enough to cut through the hum. he remembered the way she’d unraveled just last week, all quiet tears and shaky breaths that cracked something in him. how he’d held her in the dark, his arms the only thing keeping her from disappearing into the weight of it all.

she nodded slowly. “i’m okay.” and she meant it—at least more than she had then. colour had crept back into her cheeks these past few days, the heaviness loosening its grip bit by bit. maybe because every time she started to crumble, he was just there. no questions, no judgment—just steady hands and warm silence.

she’s not sure if, or when, she’s ever felt so cared for. but with auston, it was a given.

his shirt was long gone—tossed carelessly onto the counter—and her eyes had been wandering ever since. the full sleeve on his left arm was a masterpiece, black and grey ink flowing up to his shoulder like art carved in skin. from there, it melted into the scripture etched across his chest, delicate but bold, words that shifted with the rise and fall of his breathing. on the right side of his collarbone sat something simpler—three small initials, clean and permanent, resting close to his heart.

“this one,” she murmured, leaning forward, fingertip hovering just above the initials, “these are for…?”

“my sisters and my mom,” auston said, voice soft even under the low hum of the machine. his lips curved faintly. “figured they’d kill me if i didn’t make space for them.”

“smart,” she said with a small smile, brushing her thumb over her own wrist absentmindedly. then, tilting her head, “so… is the other arm next? planning on going full mural?”

he huffed a laugh, eyes flicking toward her. “eventually. maybe. haven’t decided yet.”

“hm.” her gaze drifted over his right arm, all bare skin and veins. “leave it like this, you’ve got balance. fill it in, and you’ll look like… a walking art exhibit.”

his brow arched. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“i’m saying…” she leaned in slightly, voice playful, eyes flicking over the ink on his chest before meeting his again, “i might have a preference.”

he grinned slow. “careful, you’re about to have input on permanent decisions.”

“maybe i should,” she teased. “someone needs to stop you from tattooing the entire stanley cup on your ribcage in the future.”

his jaw ticked as he tried not to laugh. “hilarious.”

“and right,” she added, then softened as her eyes dropped to the scripture curling across his chest. “seriously, though. this—” her fingertip grazed the first line, featherlight, “it’s beautiful.”

his breath hitched. just barely. but enough.

“you keep staring,” he muttered, lips twitching. “you gonna admit you’re into my tattoos or keep pretending?”

“you want me to stroke your ego?” she shot back, though her eyes didn’t leave the ink. “that’s greedy.”

“you’re the one sitting here looking like you wanna climb me,” he fired back, voice dropping, lazy grin tugging at his mouth.

“please,” she scoffed—but when she leaned in and pressed her lips just above the scripture, slow and deliberate, the way his jaw locked told her exactly how close she’d hit.

“you’re gonna get me tattoos smudged,” he rasped.

she smiled against his skin. “just… distracted.”

he barely had time to respond before the artist returned, gloves snapping, the machine buzzing back to life. y/n straightened, biting back a smirk as auston muttered something that sounded suspiciously like evil woman.

she settled back, pretending innocence, though her eyes kept drifting—over the sharp lines of his sleeve, the script stretched across his chest like it had always belonged there, the quiet initials near his collarbone. and he felt it—her gaze—because after a while, his lips curled without looking at her.

“you’re still staring.”

"don't flatter yourself. i've never seen a someone get a tattoo in person,” she murmured.

“or maybe you like me,” he said, smirk deepening, eyes cutting to hers just long enough to make her stomach flip.

she didn’t answer. not out loud. just tilted her head, slow and deliberate, before leaning in one more time and pressing a kiss where the scripture ended—warm, lingering, smug. when she pulled back, his jaw was so tight she thought it might crack.

“you,” he said, voice low enough that only she could hear, “are in so much trouble when this is done.”

and she smiled like the devil, folding her arms and crossing her legs. because honestly? she couldn’t wait.

after a beat, the artist glanced at her. “you thinking of getting one too?”

she blinked. “me?”

“yeah, you’ve been eyeing the flash on the wall for a while,” he said, nodding to the framed sketches behind her. “first time in a shop?”

she smiled sheepishly. “is it that obvious?”

“nah,” he shrugged. “just got the look of someone who hasn’t decided what they want yet.”

auston, still very shirtless and very annoyed, smirked. “she should get my number tatted. right here.” he tapped his hipbone suggestively.

“bold of you to assume i’d want your number permanently inked on my body,” y/n fired back without missing a beat.

the artist snorted. “well now i want to know—what would you get?”

y/n tilted her head, joking slipping into something softer. “i don’t know. maybe something for my family. my grandfather was a painter—he used to paint roses and gift them to us on birthdays or milestones. they were… beautiful. delicate but bold.”

auston stopped looking at her like she was a menace then. his eyes softened, lingering.

“he passed when i was fifteen,” she said quietly. “but his paintings are still around my parents’ house. it’d be nice to carry something of his with me.”

the artist nodded. “something like that would make a great first piece. personal always trumps trendy.”

auston rested his hand on her knee, thumb brushing gently. “he’d like that,” he murmured. “a rose for your grandpa.”

she smiled, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “yeah. maybe i will.”

the artist stepped out again, leaving the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic in the air. auston stayed stretched out on the leather, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach where his abs tensed every time she looked too long—and of course, he noticed.

“you keep staring,” he said again, smirk curling. “admit it—you’re obsessed.”

“maybe i just like good art,” she whispered. “maybe i like what it’s on more.”

that made him grin slow and sharp. he reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her jaw before settling beneath her chin. “you’re playing with fire, y/n,” he murmured.

“am i?”

she kissed him again—this time just above his heart, lingering like she was branding the ink for herself. he tensed, muttering a quiet fuck as she pulled back with a smug little smile.

“you,” he rasped, “are in for it.”

“looking forward to it,” she whispered back.

and just as he leaned up to kiss her—the door creaked open.

auston groaned and dropped his head back. y/n tried not to look too pleased with herself.

the sun had barely cracked through the blinds when her phone started buzzing on the nightstand.

y/n didn’t move at first — too warm, too content, too wrapped up in limbs that weren’t hers. auston was half on top of her, their legs tangled together, his hand resting over her hip, lips brushing the slope of her jaw from where he had been sleepily kissing her just seconds ago.

the buzz came again, louder this time, and she groaned, fingers blindly reaching out until her hand found the phone.

“ignore it,” auston mumbled, voice low and still thick with sleep. “they’ll call back.”

“it’s naomi,” she whispered, blinking at the screen. “i have to answer. it’s her birthday.”

“you called her at midnight,” he muttered, arm tightening around her waist. “that counts.”

“not according to her,” she said, already swiping to answer the facetime. she sat up against the headboard just as naomi’s face filled the screen, already glammed and glowing despite it being checks clock not even 9 a.m.

“finally!” naomi cried. “i’ve been blowing up your phone. why are you in bed?! get up, it’s a national holiday!”

auston groaned beside her and pulled the covers over his head.

“you literally just flew in last night,” y/n said with a laugh. “you’re lucky i even got a hold of you at midnight.”

“and you’re lucky i accepted that half-dead whisper of a birthday wish,” naomi shot back. “now get home. we’ve got nails, hair, potentially a wax if i can squeeze it in.”

auston poked his head out just then, brow raised. “wax?”

y/n smacked his chest without even looking. “don’t start.”

naomi rolled her eyes. “oh, great. you’ve already been kidnapped.”

“not kidnapped,” auston muttered. “she’s here willingly.”

“debatable,” naomi sniffed. “the only way i’m forgiving you for hoarding her this long is if you bring hot hockey men to my dinner tonight. single ones. with visible jawlines and emotional intelligence.”

“emotional intelligence is a tall order,” y/n said, grinning.

“i have faith,” naomi deadpanned. “now, babe, seriously. i need you here. i only have, like, a few years left before you go full domestic — married, kids, boring — and i’m trying to milk our youth while i still can.”

auston sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “wow. thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” she replied sweetly. “see you soon, babe. and bye, boyfriend,” she added with exaggerated disinterest before hanging up.

y/n stared at the blank screen and sighed. “i need to go.”

auston collapsed back onto the pillows with a dramatic exhale. “i figured.”

“you know how she is,” she said, sliding off the bed and padding toward her suitcase. “she’s been planning this day for months. down to the playlist and how our coffees match our outfits.”

he propped himself on an elbow, watching her tug on leggings. “i know. i just thought i had a few more hours.”

“you can nap,” she said, pulling on a cropped zip hoodie. “dream of me.”

“can’t nap if i’m grieving.”

she snorted, zipping up. “you’re being dramatic.”

“maybe i like having you to myself,” he said softly, gaze lingering on her as she moved around the room.

she paused, looking over her shoulder. “you’re sweet when you pout.”

“you’re mean when you leave,” he said back, teasing but soft beneath it.

as she walked back over, brushing her hair behind her ear, she said, “naomi thinks she’s on a deadline.”

“a deadline?”

“yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “she says she only has a few more years before she settles down and has babies.”

auston blinked, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “she might be onto something”

“she’s manifesting,” y/n replied, grinning as she leaned down and kissed him.

he kissed her back lazily, hand slipping up her spine.

“don’t tempt me to stay,” she murmured against his mouth.

“too late,” he said, kissing her again — slower this time, a hand still buried in her hoodie strings, trying to pull her back down.

but she laughed, pulling away with a gentle shove. “i’ll be back before you can miss me.”

“already do,” he muttered as she slipped on her sneakers.

she paused at the doorway, hand resting on the frame, and looked back at him — all golden skin and rumpled sheets, lips bitten pink from their morning and eyes so soft they undid her a little.

she crossed the room one last time, pressed one more kiss to his lips, and whispered, “happy naomi day. i'll see you later tonight”

then she was gone — sneakers squeaking down the hallway, leaving behind the scent of her perfume and the ache of a morning not quite finished.

the salon smelled like lavender and eucalyptus — calm and clean, with a quiet hum of dryers and soft jazz from the overhead speakers. y/n was mid-hand massage, her nails painted a sheer nude, when naomi finally leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically.

“okay. now that we’re officially seated, caffeinated, and soaking in luxury — tell me everything.”

y/n laughed, rolling her eyes. “you already know everything.”

“don’t play with me. i know what you let me know. i want the real stuff. like, when did we officially become boyfriend and girlfriend?”

y/n smiled softly, eyes dropping to her lap. “after the ASU gala.”

naomi’s jaw dropped. “shut up. you waited this long to tell me?”

“we were… kind of already acting like it,” y/n shrugged. “but that night… it just felt right. we talked after, like really talked, and then he asked.”

naomi grinned, absolutely beaming. “i knew that night was magic. you looked unreal, by the way. like a trophy wife. actually, better.”

“you’re insane,” y/n laughed.

“i’m right,” naomi said. “and you’re glowing. annoyingly so.”

y/n looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers as her tech guided her toward the UV dryer.

“it’s just been… really good,” she said softly. “like, I-wake-up-smiling good. and sometimes it freaks me out. like, i’m waiting for the shoe to drop.”

naomi’s teasing eased, gaze softening as she turned to her. “maybe there’s no shoe. maybe it’s just… your turn. for good things.”

y/n blinked, throat tightening.

“you deserve it,” naomi said gently. “you always have.”

they sat in the quiet for a few moments, soft hum of dryers filling the space. and then, of course, naomi’s voice broke through with all the grace of a jackhammer.

“now tell me about the sex.”

y/n choked on a laugh. “naomi!”

“you owe me! i tell you about all my hookups and failed dates remember? the one who made me split the uber and the appetizer? i earned this.”

y/n gave her a look but couldn’t suppress her grin. “fine. it was…”

naomi leaned in dramatically.

she paused, “really good.”

naomi slapped her thigh. “you bitch!”

y/n covered her face, muffling her laugh. “it was good! like, slow and… i don’t know, just real. like he wanted me to feel everything.”

“ugh,” naomi groaned. “i need a boyfriend. or at least someone with a jawline and patience.”

her second hand had just been set under the dryer when her phone buzzed again beside her thigh. she glanced down instinctively, eyes catching on the venmo notification that slid across her lockscreen. it took a second to register — and then her breath hitched.

she blinked at the amount. her brows lifted. audibly.

“what?” naomi asked immediately, leaning in suspiciously. “what’s that face?”

y/n stared at her screen like it had offended her. “he just—he venmoed me.”

naomi’s mouth parted. “for what?”

“for…” she hesitated, still trying to wrap her head around the ridiculous figure attached. “hair. nails. and apparently anything else i want today.”

“no. show me.” she gasped

“no.”

“you suck,” naomi whined. “but also… your man’s insane.”

y/n didn’t respond. instead, she picked up her phone and tapped his name, lifting the screen to her ear while her free hand rested carefully under the blue glow of the dryer.

it rang twice before she heard his voice, low and boyish, the subtle wind in the background giving away that he was somewhere outdoors.

“hey, baby.”

his voice curled around her chest, warm and familiar.

“what are you doing?” she asked, already smiling.

“tee time,” he said casually. “you just interrupted my swing.”

she rolled her eyes, quieting her voice as the nail tech moved on to naomi beside her. “then maybe don’t send me that much money and i won’t feel like i have to call you and refuse it.”

he chuckled, and she could hear the grin in it. “i’m not taking it back.”

“auston—”

“it’s for your day,” he cut in, voice softening. “go get your hair done. get your disgustingly sweet coffee. let naomi to boss you around and complain even though you love spending time with. i’ll see you tonight.”

she flushed. “you’re unreal.”

“and you’re hot,” he replied. “how’s the colour?”

she glanced at her drying nails, still under the lamp. “you’ll love it.”

he hummed, pleased. “will it match what you’re wearing tonight?”

her lip tugged into a smile as she leaned back, letting her voice dip low and sweet. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

he exhaled a laugh, like he could already picture it. “so you are trying to kill me before i lay eyes on you tonight”

“not before the party,” she teased.

“my girl,” he said, “so considerate.”

“sure.”

“you sound good,” he added after a beat, voice quieter. “happy.”

“i am.”

“good,” he murmured. “i’ll see you tonight.”

she lingered just a second before whispering, “can’t wait.”

when she hung up, she found naomi smirking at her with both hands under her dryer like the nosiest villain.

“i don’t know how you expect me to stay sane with this being your real life,” she said. “like. is this what being in love looks like? because i feel like i could cry and vomit at the same fine.”

“shut up,” y/n giggled, cheeks flushed.

“shut up,” naomi mimicked in a high-pitched mock voice. “i need to look perfect tonight maybe i’ll meet the love of my life and get loved up like you.”

“i have no doubt you will,” y/n said, still dazed, still glowing. “it’s naomi day, remember?”

“damn right it is,” naomi grinned. “and you are going to look so hot. he’ll go into cardiac arrest.”

“don’t worry,” y/n said, smirking. “he won’t even know what hit him.” they both deviously looked at each other getting ready for what they had in store for him.

the night started like every other time his friends dragged him out—except, apparently, they were all in on roasting him.

“well look what we have here. auston matthews,” clay drawled as they slid into the booth, bass vibrating through the floor. “voluntarily entering a club.. didn’t think i’d live to see it. you've been getting old on me”

“you’ve been out with me before,” auston deadpanned, shrugging out of his jacket.

“yeah, like three off-seasons ago,” another voice chimed in, followed by laughter. “you’ve gone full hermit since then.”

“you’re old, man,” clayton grinned, elbowing him. “and whipped as hell.”

auston leaned back against the leather, one arm stretching lazily across the top of the booth. “settled down,” he corrected, calm as ever.

they all groaned. “same difference.”

“nah,” auston said, scanning the crowd. “there’s a difference.”

“yeah?” clay lifted a brow. “like what?”

auston didn’t hesitate. “settling down means i chose it. being whipped means i didn’t have a choice.” his mouth curved, slow and smug. “and trust me—I’d choose her every time.”

they hooted at that, drinks raised in mock salute. “god, you’re soft.”

“you’ll get it when you have a girl,” auston shot back, unbothered. he pulled out his phone, lighting up the screen for the fiftieth time tonight. notifications stacked—her texts, naomi’s stories, the playlist she sent earlier.

“jesus,” one of them groaned, leaning over. “you’re actually checking her stories at the table.”

“and?” auston didn’t even glance up, scrolling through her best friend’s obnoxious videos until he caught a flash of white silk.

his pulse kicked. holy shit.

he slid the phone back into his pocket before they could clock the shift in his expression, fingers curling against his thigh as they drained their drinks and headed toward the ropes.

the second they stepped inside, the club swallowed them whole—dark corners, pulsing neon, bodies moving like water under the beat. naomi’s section wasn’t hard to find; she was a glowing center of chaos, perched on a couch in bright red, arms thrown up like she owned the place.

“you see her?” clay asked, jerking his chin toward the booth.

auston didn’t answer. couldn’t.

because she was there. right there, on the cushions beside naomi, pulled up into the orbit of flashing lights and champagne bubbles, and it hit him like a gut punch.

ivory satin. short enough that the hem flirted with the tops of her thighs every time she moved. the neckline dipped, delicate straps skimming her shoulders, the silk hugging curves he knew by heart now but still made him ache like the first time. her hair caught the glow, and her laugh—god, he could see it, even across the room—lit something up in his chest he hadn’t felt all night.

“holy…” one of the guys let out a low whistle. “that’s your girl?”

auston dragged his gaze away long enough to smirk. “yeah.”

“bro, she’s—”

“don’t finish that,” auston warned, but his mouth tilted anyway because yeah, he knew. he knew exactly what she looked like.

she hadn’t seen him yet, too busy dancing with naomi, hips swaying to the beat, her arms loose around her friend’s neck. then, like the universe hated him—or loved him—she glanced up. found him across the chaos.

and god, when she smiled at him, his lungs forgot how to work.

he didn’t even remember weaving through the crowd—just the heat of the music, the weight of his own pulse as her smile widened like a dare. by the time he reached the booth, naomi had already clocked him, grinning like she’d manifested the entire scene.

but y/n didn’t wait for him to say a word. the second his hand found her waist, she hopped down from the couch, satin brushing against his knuckles, and kissed him like she’d been waiting all night. no hesitation, no glance around to check who was watching. just lips parting against his, her arms curling up and around his neck as the bass thrummed under their feet.

auston groaned into it, low and rough, one hand spanning the small of her back, pulling her flush like she belonged there—like there wasn’t anyone else in the room. because as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t.

when she finally pulled back, her lip gloss smudged against his mouth, his breath hitched like he’d sprinted a mile. “jesus,” he muttered, forehead dropping to hers with a grin tugging at his lips. “that’s one way to say hi.”

“you like it?” she teased, voice light but eyes glinting with something darker.

“like it?” his thumb brushed the curve of her jaw, tilting her face so he could take her in. “been thinking about this since the second you answered that facetime this morning.” his gaze drifted up, and his brows shot. “and… hold on.” he caught a strand between his fingers, the soft highlights glinting under the strobe lights. “this is new.”

she smirked, fingers playing with the knot of his tie-less collar. “figured no better time to go back to highlights. it’s summer after all.”

“you didn’t tell me.”

“i asked you what you thought about it,” she reminded, tapping a manicured nail against his chest.

his laugh rumbled out, warm and unfiltered. “this why you were fishing for opinions? you look…” his eyes skimmed over her slowly, deliberately, stopping at the hair, then back to her lips. “fucking unreal, baby.”

heat climbed up her neck, even as she tried to play it cool. “just highlights,” she said, lifting her drink to her mouth.

“yeah?” his eyes dipped to the pale polish wrapped around the glass in her hand, and something wicked curved his mouth. “and nails too. you did all this for me?”

she sipped slowly, lashes lowering as if the music wasn’t pulsing like a heartbeat between them. “maybe. you like the colour?”

he grinned, teeth catching his bottom lip as his fingers slid down to the dip of her waist. “love it. gonna love it even more when they’re digging into my back later.”

her breath caught, just barely, and his smile turned downright lethal when he felt the shiver run through her.

“auston,” she warned softly, even though her body leaned closer, his cologne sinking into her skin.

“what?” his voice was a low drawl, his mouth grazing her ear now as he added, “you started this when you walked in looking like that. you think i’m gonna keep my hands off you all night?”

her laugh was shaky, her fingers tightening where they rested on his shirt. “this only just a preview.”

“mmm.” his nose brushed her temple as he kissed her cheek, slow and soft in contrast to the way his words curved sharp against her throat a second later: “but i’m still not letting you out of my sight, beautiful.”

before he could dip his head and steal another kiss, a loud voice cut through the music.

“well, well, if it isn’t my favorite couple!”

y/n didn’t even have to turn. naomi slid into view like she owned the whole damn club—because honestly, she might as well. red dress, glossy lips, grin wide enough to blind. she looped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, eyes sparkling with mischief as she clocked auston.

“happy birthday, trouble,” auston said with a smirk, slinging his arm around her in a side hug.

“about time you remembered who the guest of honour is,” naomi teased, though her grin softened when she hugged him quickly. “and don’t think i forgave you for kidnapping my best friend for like, a week straight.”

“you survived without her,” auston shot back easily, slipping an arm tighter around y/n’s waist. “barely,” naomi quipped, flipping her hair. then—just as her gaze drifted past his shoulder—everything shifted. her eyes widened, and her mouth curved slow, wicked.

“and who,” she said, voice pitching high like a discovery, “is this?”

auston didn’t even need to look. he already knew who stood behind him because the second naomi locked on, clayton let out a soft laugh like he’d just stepped into a trap.

“that’s clay,” auston said, fighting a grin when naomi all but sashayed around him to greet his friend. “clayton keller. he plays for the—”

“i don’t need his resume,” naomi interrupted smoothly, eyes never leaving clay as she extended her hand. “hi, birthday girl. you can call me your dream come true.”

clay blinked, then laughed, shaking her hand. “pretty sure i’m supposed to say that line.”

“not tonight,” she purred, sliding her arm through his without missing a beat. “tonight, you’re my present.”

“jesus,” auston muttered under his breath, earning a snort from y/n.

“go on, big guy,” naomi tossed over her shoulder, already pulling clay toward the dance floor with a grin that could set fire to the club. “you’ve got your person, i’ve got mine.”

auston shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes as he turned back to y/n. “she’s going to eat him alive.”

“it’s her birthday,” y/n reminded, laughing softly as her arms slipped back around his neck. "she can do whatever she wants. we have to nod in agreement when asked”

they slipped through the packed club toward the bar, auston’s hand firm and low on her back, like claiming her was second nature. the lights strobed over the sharp line of his jaw, cutting him in flashes of blue and red, and god, he looked unfair like that—relaxed but lethal, his height and the quiet weight of his presence clearing space no one dared fill.

“what do you want?” he asked, his voice pitched low as he bent to her ear, his breath warm and steady against her skin like a secret.

“vodka soda,” she managed, though her pulse jumped when he didn’t pull back right away, just lingered like he liked the way she tilted her head toward him.

he straightened, ordered without hesitation, his other hand sliding lower until it curved just above her hip, thumb brushing slow arcs like he had all the time in the world to ruin her composure. she was hyperaware of every inch of him, and maybe that’s why she didn’t notice them at first—the two guys a few feet over, eyes lingering too long—but auston did. he saw it in the way their heads tipped together, like they thought they had a chance. like they didn’t see him, right here, wrapped around her like a shield with teeth.

his jaw ticked. before she could even register, he leaned in again, voice lower now, the kind that crawled over your skin and stayed there.

“you look insane tonight,” he murmured, every word slow enough to drag heat up her spine. “you’ve got no idea what it does to me seeing you in this dress.”

her laugh was soft, teasing, but it cracked around the edges. “you’ve said that like six times already.”

“and i’ll keep saying it,” he breathed, his lips brushing her ear before pressing a kiss there—fleeting, not messy, not for show. a warning. a claim. his arm tightened around her waist as the bartender slid the drinks over, pulling her closer like he couldn’t help it.

by the time she caught the way those guys turned back toward their group, it was too late—they were gone, scattering like smoke, and auston smirked when he handed her the glass.

“problem?” she asked, one brow arched, catching the flash in his eyes.

“not anymore.” he clinked his drink against hers, voice silk over steel. “i’m good.”

they wove back through the crowd, his hand never leaving her, and she tried—god, she tried—to ignore the way it burned, that constant reminder that even here, surrounded by a hundred people, she was his orbit.

“you don’t have to—”

“don’t have to what?” he cut in smoothly, glancing down with faux innocence and something simmering underneath.

“act like you own me,” she teased, lifting her drink to her lips, like the warmth in her throat wasn’t from him.

auston leaned in until his nose brushed her hairline, his voice dropping to something smug and sharp-edged. “who said i’m acting?”

it hit low, deep, settling in a place she couldn’t touch even if she tried. because the truth of it was there—in his hand, in the heat rolling off him, in the way every look screamed that anyone watching should already know how this ended.

even though she knew he wasn’t a dancer, when she tugged his hand toward the floor, he came anyway, like he’d been waiting for the excuse. music thumped hard under their feet, bass rattling through her ribs, light slicing his face into something almost cruel, almost too beautiful.

“didn’t peg you for a dancer, matthews,” she teased, tipping her head up as her body swayed against his.

“i’m not,” he said easily, sliding an arm low around her waist until his palm curved against her hip, anchoring her like gravity. “but for you?” his lips brushed her hairline, voice curling like smoke. “different story.”

her laugh cracked into something breathless when his chest pressed flush to her back, closing the gap until there was nothing between them but heat and bass and the sharp, delicious drag of his breath at her ear.

“memorial day weekend,” she shot back, grinning over her shoulder. “you didn’t even try.”

his mouth curved, slow and lethal. “that was avril lavigne, baby,” he murmured, dragging the word like currency over his tongue. “this—” his hips rolled against her, a barely-there grind that stole her air— “is different.”

and it was. because the second her hips rolled back into his, slow and teasing, he didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate—just held her tighter, his hand sliding lower on her thigh where satin ended and skin began, thumb grazing her in a way that felt like a dare.

“auston,” she warned, but it was useless when her hands reached back, fingers curling in the hair at his nape, pulling him closer until his breath burned hot against her ear.

“you feel what you do to me?” his voice broke like gravel, hips shifting slow, controlled, wrecked with restraint. “fuck, y/n, you’ve been killing me since you walked in wearing that.”

by the time they made it back to the booth, restraint was a fragile thing—hanging by threads, fraying fast. he sat first, dragging her down with him until she was acoss his lap, the dress sliding scandalously high, satin whispering secrets across his thighs. her drink clinked onto the table, forgotten, because his hands were already on her—one gripping her waist, the other skimming the bare length of her thigh like he owned every inch.

"people could see us,” she teased, voice thin when his fingers trailed higher, flirting with the edge of lace.

“baby,” he murmured, low enough that it was only for her, “i could care less” his thumb stroked higher still, a lazy circle that made her choke on air.

“what if i put my hand here,” he whispered, adjusting her so his body blocked the world, his palm sliding just under the hem, brushing heat where it hurt the most. “would i find you wet for me? hmm?”

her laugh stuttered like a secret. “why don’t you check and find out.” her hands framed his jaw then, pulling his mouth to hers in a kiss that detonated every ounce of control he’d been clinging to.

he did check, and holy fuck—his breath hissed out sharp, ragged. “new underwear?” he rasped, breaking the kiss for half a second, forehead pressed to hers.

she nodded, lips slick and swollen, and he gripped her chin tight, forcing her gaze to his. “please tell me you bought it with the money i sent.”

she bit her lip, teeth sinking in like temptation personified. “among others.”

a curse tore from him, raw and filthy, before his mouth crushed hers again. heat curled everywhere, coiling tighter and tighter as his fingers moved slow, deliberate, coaxing her apart until she was trembling, nails biting into his shoulders like lifelines.

that’s when she did it—the subtle tilt of her hips, the soft graze of her heel dragging up his calf, the sharp point tracing slow, dangerous lines on his skin. his entire body shuddered like a live wire, jaw locked as his composure cracked.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he gritted, the words vibrating against her mouth.

“then lose it,” she whispered back, and it was game over.

his hand pressed deeper, working her open until her head tipped back, lips parting on a sound swallowed by the music. she bit down on his shoulder when the world shattered, every muscle bowing tight, hips jerking helplessly against his fingers.

he kissed her through it—slow, filthy, like they weren’t in a booth with half the club around them—and when she finally collapsed against him, boneless and wrecked, he brushed his lips to her jaw, his voice molten. “remember what you said earlier? about previews?”

she made a sound, something like a laugh tangled in a groan.

“good.” his teeth scraped her pulse, promise curling in every syllable. “because i’m cashing in the second we get home.”

and then, softer, like a vow: “home . later."

the night stretched long, music pulsing in her bones like a second heartbeat. she danced until her legs ached, until her cheeks burned from laughing at naomi’s theatrics, but somewhere between one chorus and the next, the weight of it all began to creep in—the lights too bright, the crowd too thick, her chest too full.

her drink was warm now, forgotten in her hand as she swayed half-heartedly next to naomi, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach. naomi caught it immediately—she always did.

“social battery’s dead, huh?” naomi leaned close, her hair sticking to her temple, perfume sweet and heady even through the haze of the club.

“running on fumes,” y/n admitted, guilt prickling even as she laughed. “i’m the worst.”

“please,” naomi waved it off, eyes glinting with something softer. “you’ve been here since before midnight, you danced with me, you looked hot—best friend of the year, babe. now go get your man before i have to pry his eyes off you myself.”

“he’s fine,” y/n tried, but her gaze betrayed her, flicking across the room like a magnet drawn to steel. auston was exactly where she’d left him—tucked in the corner booth, long legs sprawled, one arm slung over the backrest like he owned the damn thing. even half in shadow, he looked carved from something dangerous, his jaw sharp under the dim light, his shirt clinging to broad shoulders that made her mouth dry.

and those eyes? glued to her like no one else existed.

“see?” naomi grinned, following her line of sight. “he’s practically undressing you from here. go before he combusts—and tell him i said thanks for bringing eye candy to my birthday.”

y/n laughed, pulling her into a tight hug, whispering against her ear, “happy birthday, nay. i love you.”

“i love you more. thank you for today, i couldn’t have asked for a better birthday or best friend. now leave before i shove you out myself,” naomi teased, giving her a playful smack on the butt before spinning back toward the girls.

heart pounding harder than it had all night, y/n slipped through the throng, every nerve buzzing under the heat of auston’s stare. his mouth curved slow when she stopped in front of him, a smile that was more like a dare.

“tired?” he asked, though the way he straightened, sliding his hand to her hip, said he already knew the answer.

“drained,” she admitted softly, leaning in just enough for her perfume to hit him, for his breath to catch.

“let’s go,” he murmured, simple as that—no questions, no hesitation. just the kind of certainty that made her chest tighten.

the uber ride was a blur—heat pressed thigh to thigh, his fingers tangled with hers, the city lights flashing across his face like a secret she didn’t want to keep anymore. by the time they stumbled through her front door, laughter spilled out of her mouth, muffled against his as his lips found hers the second it clicked shut.

he didn’t waste time. didn’t even try. his hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, sliding down to grip her thighs like he needed her closer, deeper. she gasped against him when her spine hit the wall, his mouth trailing down her jaw, teeth grazing her pulse.

“this fucking dress,” he groaned into her skin, voice raw, like it was clawing out of his throat.

she laughed breathlessly, fingers clutching his shirt. “you like it?”

“like it?” he dragged his mouth back to hers, kissing her until she was dizzy. “i’m obsessed with it. obsessed with you.”

she smiled against his lips, whispering, “naomi picked it. said it would make you lose it.”

his groan was guttural. “i’m buying her a fucking gift.”

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he scooped her up like she weighed nothing. “you’re insane.”

“you love it,” he shot back, kissing her hard as he carried her down the hall, her laughter breaking into a gasp every time her back hit the wall in his haste.

by the time they reached the bedroom, they were both wrecked with want. he dropped her gently on the edge of the bed, towering over her like a storm barely contained. she looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes dark, and then—slowly—pushed at his chest.

“sit,” she murmured, voice low, almost commanding.

his brow arched, but the corner of his mouth curved, and he obeyed, sinking onto the mattress with his legs spread, forearms braced on his thighs like he knew exactly what game she was about to play.

“what are you doing, baby?” his tone was rough, curious, already unraveling.

“something i’ve been wanting to try,” she whispered, stepping between his knees, hands skimming up his chest as she kissed him again—soft first, then deeper, her tongue teasing until he groaned into her mouth.

she pushed his shirt up and off in one smooth pull, tossing it aside before her lips traced down the column of his throat. he hissed when she bit gently, his head tipping back as her mouth worked down—over his chest, his abs, every sharp line of him.

“fuck,” he breathed, muscles twitching under her kiss. “you’re killing me.”

“good,” she murmured against his skin, dropping lower, until her knees hit the floor between his spread thighs. her hands gripped them, nails pressing lightly through his jeans as she looked up, wrecked and sure all at once.

his breath hitched. “wait—”

she froze, fingers on his button. “what?”

he swallowed hard, every muscle tight. “are you drunk?”

she shook her head instantly, voice steady. “no! i only had that one drink hours ago. i just… i want this. i want you.”

his jaw clenched, resolve fraying with every second she stayed there, looking like sin on her knees. “fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face before meeting her gaze again. “you’re sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, fingers finally popping the button, dragging the zipper slow, deliberate. “it’s been a long time. and i want to be good for you. will you let me be good for you, baby?”

a sound ripped from his chest, half groan, half prayer. his hands found her hair, gathering it gently as he stared down at her like she was about to ruin him completely. “you’re always good to me,” he rasped, voice almost breaking. “but fuck, baby—think you can take all of me?”

her lips curled into the softest, filthiest smile, eyes wide and bright like she was both innocent and devastating in the same breath. “i know i can,” she said, tone like a promise. “i want to make you feel so good.”

and just like that, his restraint snapped.

his breath hitched, sharp and audible in the quiet room, as her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his jeans and tugged them down over strong thighs. he lifted his hips without a word, eyes never leaving her, watching her like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour her.

“jesus,” he muttered when she palmed him through his briefs, his head tipping back for a second, a groan spilling out that sounded like something feral. “you’re… fuck, you’re really doing this.”

she looked up at him through her lashes, voice velvet-soft but laced with mischief. “you don’t want me to?”

his eyes snapped back to hers, dark and wild. “don’t play with me, baby. you know i want you more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”

her lips brushed against his thigh as she whispered, “then let me.”

and then she was tugging his briefs down, freeing him, and his breath stuttered in his chest like he’d been sucker punched. big—bigger than she’d even imagined—and thick, flushed, heavy in her hand as she wrapped her fingers around him.

“holy shit,” she breathed, eyes flicking up to see his jaw tighten when her thumb swept across the tip, collecting the bead of precum there. “you weren’t kidding.”

he let out a strangled laugh, though it cracked into a moan when she stroked him slowly, teasing, savoring every second. “swear to god, you’re gonna fucking ruin me.” he ground out, one hand fisting the sheets while the other stayed tangled in her hair.

“that’s the plan,” she whispered, before leaning forward and licking a slow stripe from base to tip, her tongue tracing every vein, every ridge. his thighs tensed under her, a curse ripped from his chest.

he looked down at her with his free hand trailed across her collarbones and the top of her breasts. "take out your tits, baby. i need to see you" she didn't remove herself from him and instead used her free hand to drop the flimsy straps of her dress.

the sight of her glossy eyes and bare breasts was almost enough for him to finish then and there. “fuck—” his voice was raw now, broken. “baby… oh my god…”

she hummed against him, lips wrapping around the tip, sinking lower until her mouth was hot and tight around him. his hips jerked despite himself, his hand gripping her hair tighter, but still gentle—always gentle, even as his body shook with restraint.

“jesus christ,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as his head fell back. “you feel so good. holy shit—keep going. just like that. fuck.”

she bobbed her head slowly at first, working him deeper, her free hand curling around the base, stroking where her mouth couldn’t reach. when she hollowed her cheeks and gave the slightest moan, his whole body shuddered.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he panted, dragging his gaze back down to her, and the sight—her, on her knees between his legs, lips stretched around him, eyes blown wide with want—snapped something deep inside him. “look at me, baby. yeah—eyes on me. god, you’re perfect.”

his voice was wrecked, and when she looked up, lips slick and pupils blown, he nearly lost it. his thighs trembled when she took him deeper, gagging just slightly before pulling back with a wet pop that had him groaning like a man on his knees for salvation.

“fuck,” he hissed, his chest heaving. “you’re insane. how are you so good at this? who taught you how to do that?" he breathlessly asked, his mind short cirucuting

she lifted her eyebrow with a smirk on her lips, "actually don't answer that."

she smirked, her voice husky as she stroked him slow and deliberate. “told you. i wanted to be good for you.”

he laughed—hoarse, broken—as his thumb brushed her swollen bottom lip. “baby, you’re not good. i am starting to think you're lethal.”

before she could tease him back, his hand was on her jaw, tilting her face up, and then he kissed her—filthy and deep, tasting himself on her tongue as he pulled her up into his lap like she weighed nothing. she straddled him instinctively, knees braced on either side, and his cock pressed hot and heavy against her soaked panties, making them both moan into each other’s mouths.

“you’re wet,” he growled against her lips, dragging his fingers down to push the flimsy fabric aside, finding her slick and ready. “all this for me?”

“always you,” she whispered, rolling her hips shamelessly against him. “been thinking about this all night.”

“you’re killing me,” he said again, forehead pressed to hers like he was praying. and then his voice dropped, dark and low. “ride me, baby. i want to feel you.”

her breath hitched, heart pounding, but the hunger in his eyes burned through every hesitation she thought she might have had. she nodded, trembling with anticipation as she ripped open a condom from her side table and reached between them to slip it on, guiding him to her entrance. the stretch stole her breath—hot, thick, perfect—and her mouth fell open as she sank down slow, inch by devastating inch.

“holy shit,” he choked, his hands gripping her hips so tight she’d feel it later. “fuck—fuck, baby—”

“you’re… so big,” she gasped, voice breaking as she bottomed out, her nails biting into his shoulders. “oh my god— i don't when i'll get use to it”

“you’re taking me so good,” he rasped, kissing her hard like he couldn’t stop himself. “so fucking perfect. mine.”

her hips rolled once, testing, and he groaned like it hurt. like it healed. “yeah,” he hissed, grinding up into her, his restraint hanging by a thread. “that’s it. ride me like you mean it.”

and she did. slow at first, teasing, until his hands took control, guiding her into a rhythm that left them both shaking, kissing between curses and broken sounds, her head tipped back as his mouth devoured her throat, her chest, every inch he could reach.

“fuck, you’re unreal,” he growled, voice ragged against her ear. “gonna make me lose my mind.”

“then lose it,” she moaned, clutching his hair, moving harder, faster. “please, aus—god—please—”

“say it,” he demanded, thrusting up into her with every word. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” she cried out, trembling apart in his arms. “only yours.”

his name tore out of her like a prayer when she came, and that was it—that was his undoing. he crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries as his hips snapped up one last time before he fell apart, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

after, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and breath, her cheek pressed to his chest, his heart slamming against her ear like a drum. he didn’t let go. not when his breathing evened out. not when her lashes fluttered closed. his arms only tightened, his lips finding her hair as he whispered against her crown

“fuck, baby…i think you killed me.”

they stayed tangled like that for a long minute, both catching their breath, her cheek pressed against his sweat-damp chest. he kissed her hair lazily, one arm still locked tight around her waist like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go.

“you okay?” he murmured eventually, his voice soft now, familiar, the way it always was when the heat burned off and all that was left was this—him and her.

“more than okay,” she whispered, tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “you?”

“yeah.” he smiled into her hair, squeezing her gently. “better than okay. like… i won't be able to function tomorrow. or ever for that matter.”

she laughed quietly, lifting her head just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “glad i could help.”

“help?” he snorted, grinning now as he rolled them gently so she was on her back. “baby, you just ruined me.”

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

justice ≠ equality. E.M. deserves so much better

the justice system has failed her but we will never forget.

fuck the judge, fuck the defense lawyers, fuck hockey canada, fuck carter hart, fuck michael mcleod, fuck dillon dube, fuck alex formenton, fuck cal foote and fuck ANYONE who defended these assholes

i hope the canadian justice system is happy because more case of sa are going to continue to pop up in hockey due to their negligence & ignorance

i’m so sorry e.m. you don’t deserve this

[m34tthews]

love the hughes’ family summer dumps

[m34tthews]

“man child — why you always come running to me?”

summary — sometimes it feels like jack would fall apart without you. from your constant nagging to your "excessive" organizing, you’re the one holding everything together. but one night, you reach your breaking point and finally take control, letting him know just how much you’ve been holding it all together.

word count — 9k

warnings — smut. minors dni. dom-sub. subby!jack

an — a short one-shot because i've had man child on repeat since it dropped.

masterlist

you didn't know jack hughes’ girlfriend meant you signed up to be a full-time project manager, therapist, and laundry fairy — but here you were, mid-april, deep in the throes of playoff season, perched in the wags' box at prudential center with the other girlfriends and wives. wrapped in a black-blue devils jacket two sizes too big (jack’s, obviously; it always was), she nursed a paper cup of tea that had long gone cold.

"if i have to explain to nico one more time where we keep the tupperware..." one of the girls groaned, laughter bubbling up like champagne on a short fuse.

"at least nico puts leftovers away," another shot back. "jesper acts like the fridge is a suggestion."

they all laughed — light and easy, the familiar rhythm of women who loved men that sometimes needed mothering.

y/n smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she tucked her hands into her sleeves, eyes tracking jack as he skated warm-up laps, mouthguard dangling half out of his mouth like a kid who’d never been taught better. all energy and ambition and brilliance — but still somehow the same boy who left socks everywhere and thought “i’ll do it later” was enough to suffice.

"you okay?" luke’s girlfriend, nudged her gently.

"yeah," y/n said, watching jack high-five a teammate. "just tired."

and she was. tired in that bone-deep way that didn’t go away with a nap. tired of being the one who refilled the shampoo, who folded his laundry when he left it crumpled in the dryer, who texted the handyman and kept oat milk stocked in the fridge.

they’d moved in together a few months ago, and somewhere between unpacking boxes and colour-coding the closet, she’d realized jack didn’t so much help build their home as simply live in it — comfortably, expectantly, like it would always be warm and waiting.

he wasn’t cruel. never that. he kissed her forehead on his way to morning skate and brought her favorite smoothie back from practice. he meant well. he always meant well.

but meaning well didn’t scrub the bathroom or remember anniversaries or stop him from asking, “baby, where’s my gear?” when she was already juggling six other things.

later, after the game — a win, jack grinning under all that sweat and adrenaline like a kid who’d just been told christmas was coming twice — they went home. he kicked off his sneakers at the door, shedding clothes like breadcrumbs. she trailed behind, picking them up, almost without thinking.

"that goal in the third was amazing," she said.

he beamed. "you saw that?"

"of course i saw that. i’m always watching."

and maybe it was that — the simple, offhand admission — that made something shift inside her chest. because she was always watching. always anticipating. always fixing.

"hey, did you move my charger?" he called from the bedroom, voice muffled.

"no. i haven’t touched it."

"are you sure? because i—"

"jack." she stopped in the hallway, pulse a little too quick. "can you just... look for it yourself this time?"

silence. then a sheepish, "uh… yeah. sure. sorry."

she let out a slow breath. not angry. not exactly. but something close, simmering under her ribs.

he didn’t say anything else.

maybe it wasn’t about the charger. maybe it never was. maybe it was about the slow, constant drip of being needed in ways that didn’t feel equal. the way she’d become his second brain. or how he always said “thanks baby” but never once paused to ask if she was okay.

that night, she crawled into bed and faced the wall. jack slipped in behind her, warm and blissfully unaware, curling around her like always. his hand landed on her hip, gentle and familiar.

"i love you," he mumbled into her hair.

she hesitated. "i love you too."

but it sounded different tonight. like maybe she was finally realizing that holding someone together wasn’t the same as being held.

and maybe — just maybe — tomorrow, she’d stop picking up the socks.

the apartment was quieter than usual. the hum of the dishwasher was the only sound in the kitchen as y/n unloaded the dishes, the ceramic plates clinking softly against each other. she didn’t realize how much she noticed the little things until now — the way jack had left his gym bag in the middle of the hallway again, as if the floor were his personal closet. or how his boots had been sitting by the front door for three days, still caked in salt and snow, because someone (her) had to keep them clean so they wouldn’t ruin the hardwood.

she sighed and rubbed her temple, trying to push the frustration down.

jack had left early for a morning skate, and she hadn’t said much to him. she didn’t want to, because right now, everything about their routine felt like one big, unspoken transaction — like she was the one keeping the scorecard while he just... played the game.

as she moved through the apartment, it became almost comical how many little things there were to pick up. the coffee table was littered with receipts, a half-empty water bottle, and—yup, there it was—his practice jersey, still draped over the arm of the couch, hanging like it had been discarded without a second thought.

jack didn’t mean to do it. jack always meant well.

but she was tired of meaning well. tired of being the one who caught everything that slipped through the cracks.

later that evening, after a post-game dinner with the team and their families, they walked in together through the door of their apartment. jack was laughing about something one of the guys said, his easy smile lighting up the room. but when he stepped inside, his expression shifted just slightly. he saw the boots by the door and winced.

“oh, sorry,” he mumbled, bending down to pick them up. "didn't mean to leave those there."

y/n didn’t say anything right away. she just watched him as he slid them neatly against the wall.

“it’s fine,” she replied, a little too flatly. "just... next time, try to remember them, okay?"

jack’s gaze flickered to hers, something like uncertainty flashing across his face. but then, like he always did, he brushed it off with a grin.

“you got it, baby. promise."

the cycle continued as usual. the next day, they woke up to another busy morning. she was running late for work, and jack had overslept after a late practice. when she came out of the bathroom, getting ready to leave, she found him still lounging in bed, his phone in hand, scrolling through social media.

"you’re gonna miss your skate," she said, already halfway to the door.

"nah, i’ve got time,” jack muttered without looking up, his thumb scrolling idly. “you’re always the early one between us. you go ahead to work. i love you.”

she stared at him, feeling the familiar weight settle in her chest. it was a small thing, maybe, but it was one of the thousand things she picked up on every day. he wasn’t lazy—not by a long shot. but the way he assumed everything would just be ready for him. how he never really worried about being on time, about managing his own routine.

"jack," she said, her tone soft but firm, “you’ve gotta take responsibility for your schedule too. i can’t always be the one to tell you what time it is.”

he paused, looking up at her finally. there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes, but it quickly faded into the usual guilt.

"yeah, you're right. sorry, baby." he sighed, sitting up, his hand running through his messy hair. “i’ll get better at it.”

but it wasn’t better.

the following evening, y/n was back from a client meeting when she walked into the kitchen and found that once again, jack had forgotten to put away the leftovers. not only that — he'd left them out all afternoon. the plate was cold now, the food congealed in a sad, half-eaten pile.

she closed her eyes for a second, counting to five. she didn’t know why she was getting so worked up. but there it was again, that same feeling — the creeping weight of being the one who always had to fix things. had to manage them. had to make everything right.

just once, she wanted him to take the initiative. to clean up the mess before she had to remind him.

jack walked in from the living room then, eyes wide. “you okay?” he asked, his voice tentative, like he could sense the shift in the air.

“yeah. i’m fine,” she said, her voice just a little too sharp.

but then she couldn’t help herself. the words were out before she could stop them.

“jack, why do i always have to clean up after you?” she bit her lip, trying to rein in the frustration that was bubbling over. "why can’t you just—"

he stepped forward, his hands raised in surrender, but his tone was defensive. “baby, i’m not trying to be an ass, okay? i’m not. i’m just... i get caught up in everything, and then i forget. it’s not like i’m doing it on purpose.”

she crossed her arms, her heart pounding in her chest. “but it is on purpose, jack. not in the way you think. it’s the way you just leave things for me. over and over. it’s like i’m the one holding everything together while you are just... here.”

his face softened, guilt creeping into his expression as he realized the weight of what she was saying.

“i didn’t know you felt that way,” he murmured, his voice small. “i really didn’t.”

she shook her head, the exhaustion settling over her like a cloud. “that’s the problem. you never do. i’m the one picking up the pieces every time. i’m the one who has to make sure things get done, that everything’s taken care of.” she paused, then added, quieter, “it’s not fair, jack.”

he stood there for a long moment, speechless, as if trying to figure out how to process her words.

finally, he took a step toward her, and this time, he didn’t brush it off. didn’t throw an apology out like a quick fix. instead, he reached for her hand, holding it gently.

“i’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was steady, the sincerity there in every word. “i’ll do better. i’ll take more responsibility. i didn’t realize you were carrying so much.”

she nodded, though the tension in her chest hadn’t quite loosened. maybe this was the start of something. maybe he could really change. but she wasn’t sure yet.

but she needed to believe that he could.

the apartment was quiet again. jack had been gone for most of the day, as usual, but she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that things were... off. that conversation they had wasn’t just a one-off; it had been hanging in the air ever since, unresolved, lingering like smoke.

y/n sat at the kitchen table, staring at her phone, scrolling absentmindedly through social media. her mind kept drifting back to jack — how easy it had been to forgive him, even after everything. it was like a reflex now, to give him the benefit of the doubt. he didn’t mean to. he was just... jack.

and that’s what always got her. the way he grinned that stupid, perfect grin. the way his brown eyes sparkled when he was excited about something. or the way his voice dropped low when he murmured her name in that particular way that made her feel like she was the only thing in the world.

jack was beautiful, in every sense of the word. from the way his muscles flexed when he skated, to the way his curls always fell just a little too perfectly over his forehead. even when he left his sneakers in the middle of the floor or his dirty socks piled up on the couch, she could never stay mad at him for long.

it happened again the next morning.

jack was lounging in the living room, his legs stretched out in front of him, scrolling through his phone with an easy smile. when he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, he gave her one of those grins — wide, disarming, playful.

"you still mad at me?" he asked, voice light, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. his hands rested casually on the arm of the couch, as if he wasn’t really worried about her answer.

y/n crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise in her chest. she wanted to be annoyed, to remind him of all the things he still hadn’t done, all the ways he still wasn’t fully present.

but as she stood there, watching him — his broad shoulders, his chest stretching the fabric of his shirt, those eyes of his — she found herself faltering. god, why did he have to look so good? why did it feel like every time she was about to say something, he had a way of melting all of her frustration away?

"i’m not mad," she said, her voice softer than she meant. her arms fell to her sides, and she stepped closer to him, the pull of his presence too strong to resist.

jack’s eyes flickered with relief, his smile turning playful as he leaned back on the couch. “you sure? because you look a little mad.”

y/n sighed, fighting back a smile. “you’re impossible,” she muttered, but her words held no heat.

“nah, i’m just... charming,” he said, winking as he patted the seat beside him. “come sit.”

she rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. as she sat down next to him, he stretched an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. his scent — woodsy and fresh — wrapped around her lap a blanket, and before she knew it, she was leaning into him, her frustration fading into the background once again.

and that’s when it happened. that moment. the way he tilted her chin up gently, eyes soft with an apology that never quite made it past his playful grin.

he kissed her. slowly at first, his lips pressing against hers with a tenderness that always had a way of disarming her. when he deepened the kiss, his hand slid to the back of her neck, tugging her closer.

everything inside of her screamed that this wasn’t fair — that they were avoiding the real conversation — but in the heat of his kiss, all her thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

later that night, jack pulled her into their bedroom. she had been giving him the cold shoulder, since dinner, when he didn’t even flinch to clean up after. she continued to refuse to break her silence, but the moment he stepped into the room, something shifted.

“y/n…” he said, his voice soft but sure, his eyes studying her face with that familiar, unspoken apology.

before she could respond, he was already closing the distance between them, his hand cupping her cheek. his touch was warm, gentle, and when his lips met hers again, this time it wasn’t playful — it was raw, sincere. he was saying everything without words, and she could feel it in the way his hands roamed over her body, tracing the familiar paths he knew so well.

it wasn’t just about the sex. it never had been. it was the way he knew exactly what she needed without asking. the way he took control, even when he was the one who had messed up, in a way that made her forget her frustration and let herself be swept up in him.

his kisses moved to her neck, soft and languid, as he slowly undressed her, his movements almost reverent, like she was something precious.

y/n closed her eyes, feeling the pull between them, the way his touch made her heart race and her thoughts blur. it was hard to stay mad at him when he made her feel like the center of his universe.

his hands slid over her skin, and she melted into him, all the tension and frustration of the past few days evaporating as he whispered against her skin. "i’m sorry... i’ll do better, i promise."

there it was. the promises again. but she was too caught up in his orbit to reprimand him.

she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. his touch always made everything else fade away. and she hated herself a little for it, because she knew — he knew — that this was how he could win her back every time.

but tonight, as their bodies moved together, she realized something. he was sorry, in his own way. but was he ready to change? or was he just apologizing because he knew what she needed to hear to make the anger disappear?

the next morning, she woke up alone. jack had already gone to practice, but there was a note on the pillow next to her, written in his familiar scrawl: "i’ll make it up to you, baby."

she stared at it for a moment, wondering how long the cycle would continue. how many more mornings would she wake up to apologies and tender touches before the reality of it all — the real work — would start?

the charm and the kisses were enough to make her forget, for a while. but for how long?

y/n felt like she was dragging herself through the days. it started with a sore throat, then escalated quickly into a full-blown cold — the kind that made her body ache and her head feel like it was trapped in a fog. jack had been on the road for a couple of days, and she wasn’t about to bother him with her stupid little cold. he was busy with the team, doing his thing, living his dream. no need to pile her issues onto him.

but it was harder than she expected.

she spent the last couple of days in bed, barely able to get up. the apartment was silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. no one was there to bring her soup, no one to fluff her pillows or check on her when she got up to grab a glass of water. she was used to taking care of herself, but this time, it felt different. more exhausting.

by the time jack finally returned, she was still lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, tissues scattered on the coffee table in front of her. she barely had the energy to move when he walked in through the door, dropping his bag carelessly by the front door, his usual loud “i’m home!” echoing through the empty apartment.

y/n barely lifted her head from the pillow, feeling the wave of frustration already start to creep up her chest.

jack walked into the living room, his eyes scanning the space. he cocked his head. “you okay?”

"yeah,” she muttered, though her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. “i’ve come down with something.”

he stared at her for a moment, then looked around the apartment, his gaze flicking from the scattered tissues to the still-dirty dishes from last night. he made a face.

“you’ve been in bed all day?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight judgment she hadn’t expected. “the place looks like a mess.”

y/n blinked, confused for a moment. was he serious?

“i’m sick, jack,” she said, sitting up a little, her throat burning from the effort. she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “i haven’t been able to get out of bed for two days.”

jack didn’t seem to get it. he shrugged a little and gestured to the disarray around the apartment. “yeah, but you could’ve at least picked up a little. i mean... it’s not like you didn’t have time.”

her chest tightened. she could feel the frustration rising, the sharp edge of everything she’d been holding in for the past few days coming to a head.

“are you serious right now?” her voice was louder than she meant it to be, and the sound of it seemed to shock even her. jack froze in place, but she didn’t back down. “you’ve been gone for days, and i’m here sick as hell, and all you can do is complain about the house being a mess?”

he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.

“you don’t get it, jack. i have to do everything. i’m the one keeping the apartment clean, making sure your stuff’s put away, taking care of you — and when you’re gone, i’m left to handle it all on my own. and when you come home, all you can do is complain about the things that don’t matter." she took a shaky breath, the tears welling up despite herself.

jack stood there, staring at her, caught off guard by her outburst. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to process what she was saying.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice softening. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think... I didn’t know you were feeling like this.”

“you never know,” she whispered, leaning back against the couch, exhausted from both the fever and the fight. “that’s the problem.” she wiped at her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself.

jack’s face softened immediately, his usual easy confidence slipping away. he took a tentative step closer to her, his voice filled with genuine concern now.

“y/n, i’m sorry. i really am,” he said, his tone different — quieter, more vulnerable. “i didn’t know you were sick all week. i wish you told me. i don’t want to be that guy who... makes everything harder for you.”

she could feel the familiar ache in her chest when he looked at her like that — his eyes wide, apologetic, like a puppy who knew it messed up. the charm was undeniable. and it always seemed to work on her.

“it’s not just about the house, jack. it’s about... everything. it’s about how i’m always the one holding it together while you... while you just get to go play hockey and leave me to manage everything else.” her voice cracked, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded, but it was the truth

he crouched down in front of her, looking up at her with those wide eyes, his hand gently cupping her knee. “you’re right,” he said quietly. “i’ve been selfish. i’ve been so caught up in my own stuff that i didn’t how i’m burdening you”

y/n felt a small, bitter laugh escape her. “you only see it when i yell at you and you pout like a kicked puppy,” she murmured, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice so earnest now that she couldn’t stay mad at him. not really. “i’ll do better, i promise. just... please don’t stay mad at me.” he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

y/n stared at him for a long moment. the words were familiar. he’d apologized a million times, said the same things over and over. but this time felt different.

she sighed, letting the frustration melt away, if only for a moment. “you always say that,” she whispered, shaking her head. “but you never change.”

“i will change,” he said, his voice low, sincere. “just give me a chance.”

she stared at him for a beat, wondering if this time was actually the time he would do better. but even as the doubt lingered, she could feel the tension in her shoulders ease.

she couldn’t help it. she wanted to believe him. she always did.

“fine,” she said softly. “but next time, just... help out, jack. help out before i have to ask.”

he nodded, pulling her into his arms gently. “i will. i swear.”

the warmth of his body against hers as he pulled her close was like a balm to the tension she’d been carrying. he kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled her against him.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there when you needed me,” he murmured, voice thick with guilt. “i hate that you were sick and i wasn’t here to take care of you.”

y/n closed her eyes, the comfort of him too soothing to fight. maybe he would change. maybe this time, it would stick.

for now, though, she just let herself be held.

two nights later, they were all squeezed into a corner booth at a warm, bustling italian spot downtown. the kind with paper tablecloths, tiny candles, and waiters who greeted the hughes family like old friends. jack’s parents were in town for the playoffs, treating them all to dinner — luke already halfway through the breadbasket, jack grinning like he he had something up his sleeve.

ellen was fussing over the menu. “i still don’t understand why you won’t try the eggplant, jack. it’s good for you!”

“mom,” jack groaned, leaning back so dramatically he nearly knocked into the waiter. “if i’m not eating it now, i’m never eating it.”

“it’s actually good here,” y/n offered, just to tease, elbowing him lightly.

he gave her a betrayed look. “whose side are you on?”

“the side of expanding your child-like palate, apparently.”

luke snorted. “she’s right, bro.”

jack rolled his eyes, but under the table, his hand slipped onto her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles.

they ordered — pasta for everyone, plus calamari and garlic bread “for the table,” which meant luke would demolish most of it. they were halfway through the appetizer when jack suddenly cleared his throat, announcing he has something to say (as always)

“so… i was thinking,” he started, glancing around like he was about to announce a business deal. “we should get a dog.”

y/n almost choked on her wine. “a what?”

“a dog!” he said, perking up. “like a little golden retriever or a lab. wouldn’t that be awesome?”

ellen lit up immediately. “oh, that would be so sweet! i’d come visit all the time.”

jack leaned back, smirking at y/n like he’d already won. “see? mom loves the idea.”

she fixed him with a look. “ellen, please tell your son he needs to learn how to put his socks in the hamper before he’s responsible for a living creature.”

ellen burst out laughing. “he still doesn’t pick up after himself?”

“ellen,” y/n said gravely, lowering her voice like she was sharing state secrets, “your son left a protein shake on the windowsill for two weeks. i walked in and thought something died.”

luke nearly spit out his water, coughing as he laughed. jim was shaking his head, trying to hide a grin behind his napkin.

jack’s ears went bright pink. “okay, one time—”

“one time too many,” she cut in, smirking. “besides, who’s going to walk it? or train it? i already do all the grocery shopping, call the maintenance man, keep track of your game schedule and your laundry.”

“hey!” jack sputtered. “i help.”

“like when you said you’d clean the bathroom and just sprayed windex everywhere because it ‘smelled clean’?”

“now that. that was innovative.”

luke wiped tears from his eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

ellen patted y/n’s hand, eyes sparkling. “thank you for keeping him in line. i tried for twenty three years, but some things never stick.”

jack scowled. “you’re all traitors.”

but even as he pouted, he squeezed y/n’s knee under the table, thumb pressing gently like he needed the reassurance. she rolled her eyes but laced her fingers with his, giving him a squeeze back.

“maybe in a year,” she relented softly, meeting his hopeful eyes. “when you prove you can keep track of your socks.”

he lit up instantly. “deal. i’m gonna get so good at chores you won’t even believe it.”

jim snorted. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

ellen raised her glass. “to jack learning how to be functional adult”

everyone laughed, even jack, who lifted his own glass with a sigh. “yeah, yeah. ye of little faith .”

under the table, he leaned closer, whispering just for her, “thank you, baby. for everything”

she smiled, nudging his shoulder. “someone’s gotta make sure you survive. might as well be me.”

and he just looked at her, eyes soft, like even if he didn’t have the dog yet, he already had everything else he needed.

by the time they got home, the city was quiet and cool, the kind of april night that smelled like rain on pavement. jack unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and waited for her to step inside first — dramatic gentleman mode, as always.

“after you, traitor.”

y/n snorted, kicking off her shoes and heading straight for the kitchen to put away the leftover dessert ellen had forced them to take home. “still mad i told your mom about the protein shake?”

he shut the door and followed behind her like a shadow. “oh, i’m furious,” he said, dropping his keys on the counter. “you snitched. in front of my whole family.”

“well, quinn wasn't there and i've already told on you enough to him. and you brought up a dog. you knew exactly what you were doing.” she opened the fridge, placing the tiramisu inside. “and i told the truth. if you want a dog, start by not treating your sneakers like floor art.”

he wrapped his arms around her from behind, chest pressed to her back. “i’m still getting revenge,” he murmured, lips brushing just behind her ear.

she raised an eyebrow, amused. “oh yeah? what’re you gonna do? forget to rinse your dishes again?”

he smirked against her neck. “nah. i’m gonna make you pay for telling my mom i can’t clean.”

“jack—”

“maybe i’ll tease you until you’re the one begging,” he whispered, voice low and smug. “maybe i’ll make you say you’re sorry for making me look bad at dinner.”

she rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched — because of course it did. he always knew what buttons to push.

“you do a fine job of looking bad all on your own,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

he grinned. “true. but that's why i have you. we balance eachother out.”

“unfortunately.” she turned in his arms, tugging his hoodie by the collar. “you’re lucky i do.”

he tilted his head, lips hovering just over hers. “lucky you love me,” he corrected. “because otherwise, you’d be in big trouble for slander.”

she laughed against his mouth. “baby, if i really wanted to slander you, i’d tell them about the time you almost blew up our microwave because you microwaved aluminum in a plastic container.”

“that was one time!” he groaned, head dropping to her shoulder in embarrassment.

he groaned into her neck, “you’re here to humble me, aren’t you?,” his hands were already sliding under the hem of her shirt, thumbs brushing warm circles into her skin.

“mhm, says the boy plotting revenge.”

“not plotting anymore,” he murmured, voice husky. “your punishment is pretty much decided.”

“oh yeah?” she smirked, trying to hold her ground, but it faltered when he pressed her back against the counter, hips snug against hers. “what’re you gonna do—”

he cut her off with a kiss. greedy, all-consuming, the kind that made her knees weaken. she clutched at his shoulders, trying to remember why she was annoyed at all — the socks, the tupperware, the protein shake science experiment — but it all blurred under the heat of his mouth.

“come on,” he whispered against her lips. “come to bed with me.”

“jack—”

“please.” his forehead rested against hers, eyes blown wide, almost boyish again. “need you.”

that did her in.

he tugged her hand, leading her down the hall, their laughter tangled with breathless kisses. by the time they reached the bedroom, she was already fumbling with the hem of his hoodie, giggling when he yanked it over his head and nearly knocked her off balance.

“careful, idiot,” she whispered.

he just grinned, hands settling on her hips as he backed her toward the bed. “not my fault you make me clumsy.”

the playful edge faded the second she hit the mattress, his mouth trailing down her neck, hands everywhere at once — anchoring her, adoring her, worshiping her.

and just like that, all her quiet resentments melted. every sock on the floor, every forgotten chore — gone, irrelevant, lost under the press of his chest and the way he groaned her name like a prayer.

because in moments like these, she wasn’t the girl picking up his pieces. she was just his. wanted, cherished, needed so deeply it made her head spin.

later, tangled in sheets with his heartbeat thrumming under her palm, she whispered, almost shy, “still mad at me?”

jack smiled into his skin. “not even a little.”

because she’d remember all his shortcomings tomorrow. but tonight, in this bed, with him breathing her in like he couldn’t get enough — she only felt the good parts. and god, there were so many good parts.

it was early afternoon when she finished getting ready — slipping into a soft, silky dress for a charity fundraiser with the other wives and girlfriends. nothing over-the-top, but the colour made her skin glow, the neckline dipping just enough that she almost second-guessed it.

jack didn’t give her the chance.

“jesus,” he muttered when he walked into the bedroom, stopping dead in his tracks. his eyes raked over her like he was physically hungry. “baby, come here let me look at you.”

she rolled her eyes, heat prickling at the base of her neck. “jack, i’m already running late—”

he crowded her against the dresser anyway, hands sliding over her waist, thumbs stroking the fabric like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold her or peel it off. “you can’t just walk around looking like that. it’s illegal.”

“it’s literally a charity event,” she laughed, trying to twist away, but he only grinned and ducked his head, lips ghosting her throat.

“then it’s illegal to be that hot at a charity event without me”

she melted — for a second. then gently pushed at his chest. “jack, stop. i have to go.”

he pouted but didn’t let go, arms wrapping tighter. “fine, fine. where’s it at again?”

“the rooftop at the four seasons. you’d know if you checked your calendar.”

he just hummed, nosing along her collarbone.

she let out a little breath, trying not to lose focus. “what’re you doing today?”

“nothing, really. might play chel with luke and trevor later. why?”

her stomach tensed. she smoothed her hands over his shoulders, voice careful. “i just… remembered we’re behind on a few things. could you maybe run to the store? we’re out of oat milk and trash bags. and sunday cleaning — could you at least get started on the bathroom and vacuum the living room?”

jack pulled back just enough to grin down at her. “of course, baby. got it. don’t even worry. i’ll be so productive, you’ll come home and think a maid service broke in.”

she studied him, searching for something — maybe real commitment, or even a flicker of guilt that she had to ask at all. instead, he was just smiling at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, hands still tracing little shapes on her hips.

she sighed. “i’m serious, jack. i don’t want to come back and have to do it all myself.”

“i know, i know.” he leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet, like it was enough to solve everything. “trust me, okay? i got it. promise.”

she tried to relax into it, let herself believe him. because he looked so earnest, and god, it was so easy to fall for that soft-eyed smile.

but as she grabbed her purse and left, her chest was tight with something she couldn’t quite name — like maybe she already knew how this would end.

the rooftop was lit up with tiny golden bulbs strung overhead, the city skyline soft and blurred in the distance. waiters wove through with trays of prosecco and delicate hors d'oeuvres, and laughter floated on the warm evening breeze.

y/n stood with a cluster of the other wives and girlfriends, her glass cool in her hand, shoulders finally relaxing a little. it felt good to be out, dressed up, surrounded by people who understood the strange orbit their lives revolved around.

"so how’s jack? still leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom like bread crumbs?" megan asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

y/n laughed, shaking her head. "honestly? he’s been… pretty good, actually. like, surprisingly. i think i scared him straight after i snitched to ellen at dinner last week."

they all cracked up, nearly in unison.

"my mother-in-law would never side with me," jenna groaned. "if she could, she’d still be cutting the crusts off his sandwiches and ironing his jeans. she looks at me like i’m a war criminal because i told him to pick up after himself."

"god, jack would love that," y/n said, giggling. she took a slow sip of her drink, letting the prosecco fizz sweetly on her tongue.

“although — he’s still working his angles. i have this theory he’s trying to butter me up for a dog. keeps dropping these not-so-subtle hints, like ‘baby, wouldn’t a puppy be so cute on the couch with us?’ meanwhile, i’d just like to not trip over his skates in the hallway.”

"that’s a lot of work," one of the girls said, sympathetic but amused. "but… also kinda nice. i’d go crazy in that house by myself all season if we didn’t have our dog. at least it’s company when they’re on the road."

y/n hummed, nodding. her mind wandered for a moment — to their apartment, to jack’s sneakers by the door, to the way he’d looked at her before she left, so unabashedly in awe like he still couldn’t believe she was his.

"yeah," she admitted softly, half to herself. "he is pretty sweet sometimes. and i think… i don’t know. maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have something that’s ours, you know?"

the girls all smiled knowingly, a few squeezing her hand. the conversation moved on — trips they were planning, little updates on family back home, which players were secretly terrible cooks — but under it all was this soft, blooming warmth in her chest.

by the time she hugged them all goodbye and stepped into her waiting car, she felt light. maybe even a little giddy. she rested her head against the seat, smiling to herself, suddenly eager to be home.

to see jack, to tell him he’d been on her mind, to let him tug her into his chest and kiss her like she was still that girl from the first night they met.

because for all the socks on the floor and the ways he still had to grow up — he was hers. and tonight, that was enough to make her want to hurry back to him.

once the event wrapped up and she parked in their building garage, she couldn’t wait any longer to see him. she unlocked the door, expecting the usual quiet hum of an apartment halfway cleaned, maybe the faint scent of something cooking, the soft buzz of the vacuum in the living room.

instead, she stepped inside and froze. the place was exactly the way she’d left it. the kitchen counters still cluttered with empty milk cartons, the trash overflowing, the bathroom untouched.

then she heard it — the low murmur of voices from the living room.

peeking around the corner, she saw jack and luke sprawled on the couch, beer cans in hand, laughing like it was game night; the chores she had assigned long forgotten.

jack’s eyes caught hers and immediately went wide — frozen, caught like a kid who just got caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

she opened her mouth, but no words came out. the anger rooted her to the spot, leaving her utterly speechless.

luke cleared his throat awkwardly. “uh… hey, y/n.”

jack didn’t move, didn’t say a word. he was in trouble.

“guess the cleaning’s on hold?” she finally managed, voice tight but low.

jack swallowed hard. “i… i was gonna get to it. i swear. just… needed a minute.”

her jaw clenched. “a minute?"

he shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to luke, who gave an apologetic shrug.

“i gotta head out,” luke said quickly, standing and grabbing his coat. “don’t wanna get caught in the middle.”

“thanks, luke,” she said flatly as he hurried out.

jack stayed rooted, looking smaller than usual, but she still couldn’t find her voice.

he finally gestured helplessly toward the game console, where a controller rested. “was gonna play some chel… thought maybe after.”

she stalked over, unplugged the console, and looked at him dead on. “shut up.”

jack blinked. “shut up?”

“yes. just. shut. up.”

he did, really did, blinking in surprise. he’d never seen her like this before — silent, rigid, no warmth in her eyes. he slumped into the couch infront of her as she paced.

he stayed there on the couch, looking up at her like he didn’t know if he should stand or shrink into the cushions.

she crossed her arms, pacing once before she rounded on him again. her voice was ice. “so pathetic. you need me to do everything for you, hmm?”

his eyes widened, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “baby, i—”

“can’t do anything for yourself,” she snapped, stepping in closer. her hands went to his shoulders, pushing him back into the couch so she stood over him. “can’t clean. can’t run errands. can’t keep a single promise to me. i have to manage your whole life for you, like i’m your personal assistant.”

he reached for her hips, trying to pull her down onto his lap, but she smacked his hands away so hard the sound cracked in the air.

“you don’t get to touch me,” she hissed.

his mouth fell open. “baby, come on—”

“no. i’m the one in charge. like always. i decide if and when you get to touch me.” she snapped, her voice laced with venom

he swallowed again, hands fisting helplessly at his sides.

she leaned down, voice dropping to a mocking purr as her fingers traced along his jaw, her nails scraping lightly over the stubble.

“stupid boy. can’t do anything. don’t want to do anything but be inside me all day, huh? can’t get a single thought in that pretty head of yours if it isn’t me.”

his breath stuttered out of him in a low, wrecked groan. his eyes fluttered shut for a second, like he couldn’t even bear how much he wanted it. when they opened again, they were dark and blown wide with need, locked helplessly on her face.

“baby…” he breathed, voice hoarse, the word more a plea than anything else. his hands twitched on the couch cushions, like he didn’t dare reach for her again without permission.

she tilted her head, studying him, a cruel little smirk ghosting across her lips. her thumb swept over his bottom lip, dragging slow and deliberate, watching it bounce back when she let go. he sucked in a sharp breath at even that light touch, chest rising like he was struggling to keep himself from falling apart.

“so easy,” she whispered, her mouth brushing just against the corner of his. “you’d let me ruin you right here, wouldn’t you?”

he gave a tiny, desperate nod, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “yeah. fuck — please. whatever you want. i’ll do anything.”

“anything?” she echoed softly, letting her lips ghost along his cheek, down to his jaw, smiling when he shivered under her.

“anything,” he rasped, hands fisting tight again at his sides like he was using every ounce of control not to grab her. “just… please.”

she hovered over his mouth for a breathless beat, letting the anticipation stretch until his lips parted on a quiet, broken gasp.

then she finally kissed him.

hard. messy. her hands threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan. he kissed her back with a desperate, hungry sort of relief, grabbing her waist like he couldn’t help himself even after being told not to.

and she let him — for now — because the way he melted under her, the way he clung to her like he’d fall apart otherwise, made it so painfully clear just how much he needed her to keep him together.

and god help her, she needed it too.

she pulled back just enough to look at him, breath coming fast, her lips swollen from the kiss. jack’s eyes were blown wide, pupils dark with want, mouth parted like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

his hands hovered at her waist again, tentative now — like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. she could feel him trembling under her, every muscle wound tight, waiting for permission.

“say it,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding. “say you need me.”

“i… fuck, i need you,” he breathed, so earnest it nearly broke her. “need you to tell me what to do. need you to… to take care of me. i’m so fucking lost without you.”

her thumb brushed over his cheek, almost gentle — almost. “yeah, i know. you’d fall apart if i left. don’t even know how to use the vacuum without me.”

he let out a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering closed like he was embarrassed, but he leaned into her touch anyway.

“look at me,” she ordered.

his eyes snapped open at her words. he melted at the heat radiating from her a mix of desire and anger that reached it's boiling point

“good boy,” she murmured, and then she kissed him again — slower this time, deep and possessive, like she was staking her claim. his hands finally settled on her hips again, squeezing like he might die if he couldn’t hold her.

she shifted in his lap, feeling how hard he already was beneath her, and smirked against his mouth. “so easy. so fucking easy for me.”

“only for you,” he groaned, voice raw, forehead dropping to rest against hers. “just… please. don’t stop. don’t—”

“shut up,” she repeated, cutting him off with another searing kiss.

and he did. god, he did — sinking into her, letting her take the lead, every broken promise and messy room forgotten for now under the weight of how desperately he wanted to be hers.

she slowed the kiss, just enough to savor it — to taste the apology he couldn’t quite say, to feel the way he shivered when she dragged her nails lightly up the back of his neck.

his hands were gripping her hips so tight it bordered on painful, trying to ground himself, to prove he still had something to hold onto. but she knew — they both knew — who was really in control here.

when she pulled back, her breath was ragged, her lips slick and swollen. jack’s eyes were dazed, his mouth parted like he was still chasing her even after she’d left it.

“god, look at you,” she whispered, brushing a thumb over his damp bottom lip. “i am the only one who gets to see you like this. completely ruined”

he let out a low, desperate sound. “yeah. fuck — yes. whatever you want. just… please, don’t stop touching me.”

“needy,” she murmured, almost fond, though there was still an edge in it. “pathetic little thing. can’t stand to be without me for a second.”

his hips jerked up under her, unthinking, chasing friction, and he whined when she pressed her palm to his chest to hold him still.

“stay,” she ordered, and he did — trembling under her like he was made of glass.

she leaned down, nipping his jaw, then licking over the sting until he gasped. “good boy. that’s it.”

his hands fluttered at her sides, wanting to roam, wanting to take, but waiting for her to give the word. it sent a sharp thrill through her, how he looked at her like this — totally undone, worshipful, lost.

she rolled her hips slowly against him, and his breath punched out of him in a shudder.

“you feel that?” she whispered against his ear. “that’s all you’re good for. all you want to be good for. just me. just this.”

“fuck,” he rasped, hands clutching at her thighs now like he might fall through the earth if he didn’t anchor himself to her. “yes baby, fuck yes… only you.”

she kissed him again, hard and filthy, swallowing the broken sounds he made. he kissed back with everything he had — teeth, tongue, the desperate flick of his hips — like he needed to prove his devotion in every breath.

when she finally broke away, they were both gasping, foreheads pressed together, sweat starting to bead at her temple.

“you’re mine,” she said low, so close he could feel her words vibrate through him.

“yours,” he promised instantly, eyes blown wide, voice shaking. “always yours.”

she smiled, dark and satisfied, before capturing his mouth again — and this time when he surged up into her, she let him, let them both get lost in it. because right now, in the heat of it, with all his faults and failures laid bare, he was exactly where he was supposed to be — beneath her, wanting nothing more than to give her everything.

she smiled, dark and satisfied, before capturing his mouth again — and this time when he surged up into her, she let him, let him grab at her hips and pull her flush against him like he was starving for it.

his hands roamed greedily now, no longer tentative, sliding up beneath her shirt to feel the heat of her skin. he moaned into her mouth when her nails scraped over his shoulders, bucking up helplessly beneath her.

“fuck, baby… please,” he gasped when they pulled apart for breath, his voice nothing but wrecked devotion.

“please what?” she taunted softly, pressing her forehead to his, their breaths tangling.

“please… just — let me come. let me be good for you,” he choked out. his eyes were wide and glassy, every ounce of cockiness stripped down to this raw, pleading honesty.

she felt her chest tighten, her own pulse thundering as she rocked her hips deliberately against him. he nearly sobbed, clutching her tighter, and when she kissed him again it was slower, deeper, like she was drinking in every shattered sound he made.

somewhere in the blur of it — of soft, filthy words whispered against lips, of his hands gripping her like lifelines, of her laughter breaking through when he cursed under his breath, half-crazed — the last of her anger slipped away.

because here he was, laid bare under her, all his faults and failures on full display, and still looking at her like she was the sun. like he’d do anything, be anything, if it meant keeping her.

and right now, in the heat of it, that was enough.

when the tension finally broke and they collapsed together, tangled and breathless on the couch. when the urgency had finally burned itself out and left them in a tangled, sweaty heap on the couch — she lay draped over him, her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the frantic pound of his heart start to slow.

jack’s hands stroked aimlessly up and down her back, almost reverent, like he still couldn’t believe she was real, that she’d chosen to stay.

for a while, neither of them spoke. they just lay there tangled up on the couch, her head resting over his heart, feeling it race and then slowly steady beneath her cheek. his hands drifted over her back in slow, aimless patterns, like he couldn’t stand to stop touching her.

she closed her eyes, trying to memorize this — the warmth of him, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath still caught every so often like he was overwhelmed.

then, in a voice so quiet and rough it cracked straight through her, he whispered, “i’d do anything for you. you know that, right?”

her throat tightened. she lifted her head to look at him, taking in the flushed skin, damp hair curling at his temples, the way his lips were kiss-swollen and parted like he was still catching up to the moment.

his eyes found hers, wide and raw in the low light. “i mean it,” he went on, like he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. “i’ll do better. i promise. i’ll try harder. i’ll… fuck, i’ll grow up. i’ll be the man you need. the one you deserve. because i can’t — i can’t lose you.”

her chest squeezed so tight it almost hurt. because for all his mess, all the ways he made her want to scream and tear her hair out, there was never any doubt how deeply he loved her. it was written all over his face, in every touch, every broken, breathless promise. he loved her recklessly, wholly, with everything he was.

she leaned down and kissed him, slow and lingering, tasting the fear and the hope on his lips.

when she pulled back just enough to speak, her voice shook. “good. because i’m not doing this alone anymore. i swear to god, jack — if you don’t change, if you keep making me carry all of it by myself, i’ll leave.”

his hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen. “it won’t come to that,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “i swear. i swear on everything, i’ll be better. i’ll prove it to you. just… please don’t stop loving me.”

she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his, breathing him in like she was trying to fill her lungs with him.

“don’t give me a reason to,” she whispered back.

“i won’t,” he breathed immediately, pulling her down into him like he could keep her there forever. “i promise, baby. i promise.”

and for tonight — with his arms locked around her, his promises soft and desperate against her skin — she let herself believe it. because god, she needed to. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep holding on.

BONUS

the morning light spilled gently through the window when y/n finally stirred, her body still heavy with sleep and the lingering warmth of the night before. she blinked groggily, expecting to find herself alone or maybe jack still tangled up in blankets somewhere on the couch.

instead, she heard the clatter of pans and the faint hiss of the coffee machine.

curious, she shuffled out of their bedroom in her oversized shirt and slippers, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

there he was — jack, standing at the stove, focused and a little awkward, flipping pancakes with the kind of careful concentration usually reserved for practice drills. the kitchen was filled with the rich smell of coffee and something sweet sizzling on the griddle.

“morning,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with that boyish grin that made her heart skip. “hope you’re hungry.”

y/n’s eyes widened when he handed her a plate piled high with golden pancakes, perfectly fluffy, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup. next to it was a steaming mug of coffee, just how she liked it — creamy, not too bitter.

“jack… this looks amazing,” she said, genuinely surprised. “did you make all this?”

he scratched the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “yeah, well… i had some help.”

“help?”

he grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “was on facetime with my mom and quinn until about thirty minutes ago. they gave me the play-by-play on how to not burn the kitchen down.”

she laughed, warmth spreading through her chest. “so you were taking cooking lessons from your mom?”

“yep,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “and maybe bragging a little about how amazing my girlfriend is.”

she smiled, taking a bite of the pancake. “okay, i’m impressed. you’re full of surprises.”

he smirked, his eyes darkening with a mix of mischief and something softer, more tender. “guess all it took was you fucking me like that yesterday to light a fire under me.”

he stepped closer, voice dropping low and thick with promise. “plus, if i want mornings like this—just you and me, no distractions—I’d better start pulling my weight.”

she smiled, feeling a rush of heat bloom inside her as she reached across the table to lace her fingers through his. “well, keep it up. i’m loving this side of you.”

he caught her hand, his thumb stroking gently, grounding them both. then, without breaking eye contact, he tugged her up from her chair and pulled her close until there was no space left between them.

“i love you,” he murmured against her lips, voice raw and full of longing.

she melted into the kiss, slow and deep, the kitchen fading away until there was only the press of his body, the warmth of his breath, the taste of him.

when they finally parted, breathless and tangled, jack pressed a soft kiss to her temple before stepping back with a grin.

“breakfast is served, baby. just for you.” he said, sliding the plate of pancakes onto the table, the steam curling between them like a promise of more mornings like this.

and in that simple, perfect moment—pancakes, coffee, and stolen kisses—everything felt like home.

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

SHE DID HER BIG ONE

CHAPTER SEVEN

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 9.5k

warnings — minors dni. sexual content

an — late night update

masterlist

auston groaned through the final set of shoulder presses, sweat sliding down the back of his neck as ryan, his team-appointed personal trainer, counted him down in that same unfazed, nonchalant tone he’d heard for years.

“three more. come on. don’t wimp out on me now, matthews.”

“i’m not,” auston huffed, pushing through the burn. “you sound like lou.” their head strength and conditioning coach.

ryan chuckled, arms crossed as he watched auston’s form. “he was pissed, you know. ghosting your offseason program? rookie mistake.”

“i didn’t ghost,” auston muttered, voice strained. “i just… paused.”

ryan shot him a look. “for how long?”

“a couple weeks.”

“and what were you doing for those couple weeks?”

auston grinned despite the ache in his arms, a dumb smile tugging at his lips even mid-set. “seeing someone.”

ryan raised a brow. “oh?”

“yeah.” auston dropped the weights with a quiet thud and sat back on the bench, chest rising and falling with effort. “her name’s y/n. we grew up together. ran into her again when i came back here. haven’t really stopped talking since.”

“huh.” ryan tossed him a towel. “and she’s the reason you skipped workouts?”

“no,” auston said quickly, then hesitated. “okay, maybe a little.”

ryan laughed. “she must be something.”

auston nodded as he wiped the sweat from his face. “she is.”

once they wrapped up and ryan moved on to another client, auston lingered in the locker room of the private training facility, cooling down. he scrolled through his phone, fingers tapping through old texts — most of them from y/n — until her name lit up the screen with a new one.

baby ❤️: i need you when you’re done

his brows pulled together. no emojis. no extra words. just those five. he didn’t waste time replying. instead, he immediately hit call, switching to speaker as he peeled off his damp shirt and reached for a fresh one in his bag.

“hey,” he said, stepping into the shower area while the water ran behind him, steam starting to fill the space. “you good?”

“yeah, all good,” she said quickly, her voice light but a little breathless, like she’d rushed to pick up. “so… i need to ask you something.”

he laughed under his breath, setting his phone on the dry ledge of the sink. “do you have any idea how that text sounded?”

“what?” she asked, a smile in her tone.

“you text me ‘i need you’ like you’re in trouble, and then answer the phone all casual. you trying to give me a heart attack?”

she giggled. “okay, fair. sorry. i didn’t mean for it to sound that dramatic. i was tending to a patient and texted you in a rush.”

he stepped under the water, angling himself so he could still hear her. “so what’s up? what do you need?”

“do you… have a suit?”

he paused mid-shampoo, blinking water from his eyes. “yeah, course i do. i’m not a caveman. why?”

“well,” she said, and he could hear the shyness creeping in, “i kind of forgot tonight is the alumni ball at ASU. it’s this formal thing they do every year for alumni, recent grads, and professors… but this one’s specifically for stem graduates. they invited me because i’m receiving an award for community outreach and mentorship.”

he blinked, a slow grin pulling at his face. “and you need a date.”

“i do,” she said with a soft laugh. “i know it’s last minute and you’ve been so busy lately and i’ve already stolen so much of your time—”

“hey,” he cut in, rinsing off, “you didn’t steal anything. i wanted every second with you. and second—of course i’ll go.”

“really?”

“yes.” he stepped out, grabbing a towel. “i’ll be your date. though, you’ve got some nerve.”

he continued, toweling off. “taking me to a fancy dinner as your date. you trying to impress me, y/n?”

she giggled again, warm and fond. “technically it’s not dinner. it’s a ball.”

“even worse. now i gotta wear a tie.”

“you look good in a tie.”

“you look good in everything.”

she hummed, pleased. “you’re sure you’re up for it?”

“y/n,” he said, more serious now, pulling on fresh clothes, “any excuse to be near you tonight? i’m in. i'll have you know i hot in a suit”

“i don't doubt that. thank you,” she said, softer this time. “i’ll send you the details.”

he smiled and leaned against the locker, phone back in hand. “can’t wait to see you all dressed up.”

“ditto.”

“and y/n?”

“yeah?”

“wear something sexy for me.”

there’s a pause on the other end, then her laugh filters through the speaker, warm and bright.

“oh, so it’s that kind of event now?”

“depends on the dress,” he murmurs, clearly enjoying himself.

he could hear the smile in her voice. “i'll see what i can do.”

later that day, he stood just inside her bedroom, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes moving slowly over the space.

it was neat — not in a sterile or untouched way, but intentional. warm. curated. the soft glow of a corner lamp painted the walls in gold, and her perfume lingered faintly in the air like a memory. a small woven basket in the corner held a couple of toys, and a playmat lay carefully folded beside it. near her desk, a collection of hand-drawn pictures were tacked to the wall — messy crayon hearts, clumsy rainbows, and a few childlike signatures in crooked lettering. he paused there for a moment, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took them in.

“i’ll be out in a minute!” her voice called from the washroom.

“take your time,” he replied, though his pulse had already picked up. he hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet, but standing in her room — her world — with its soft edges and quiet affection, made something stir deep in his chest.

then the bathroom door opened.

and he went still.

she stepped out in black — that dress. it clung and draped in all the right places, the bodice hugging her waist just enough, an asymmetrical neckline pulling his gaze toward the delicate lace-up detailing along her back. the chiffon skirt moved with her like a sigh, catching lamplight and revealing flashes of skin through a thigh-high slit as she walked forward, graceful and completely unaware of the way she’d just shattered him.

the scarf she’d draped over her arm was momentarily forgotten as she glanced down to adjust the hem.

“okay,” she exhaled, smoothing her hair, still not looking at him. “what do you think?”

he didn’t answer. his mouth parted, stunned. he blinked, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with his eyes.

when she finally looked up and caught his expression, she stilled. “what?”

he shook his head, laughed softly. “i’ve never seen you like this.”

“like what?” she teased, cheeks already heating up.

he took a step toward her, hand rising to her waist, careful not to wrinkle the fabric. “like you’re about to ruin me before we even leave.”

she laughed, swatting his chest. “you’re so dramatic.”

“am i?” he grinned, but his eyes were still heavy on her. “you walk out looking like that and expect me to act normal?”

“it’s just a dress.”

but he hadn’t stopped looking. not once. even as they left her room — him with a guiding hand at the small of her back, sneaking glances like he was afraid she might vanish — she could feel the tension humming under his skin.

they walked through the apartment, low lighting glowing across the hardwood floors, the city just starting to blush outside her windows.

“you know,” he said as she reached for her clutch, voice dipping low as he leaned against the doorframe, “you really shouldn’t have come out of that bathroom looking like that.”

she turned, brow raised, amused. “why not?”

his eyes darkened, and he moved toward her again, slower this time. his fingers found the edge of her scarf, brushing it aside before his mouth found her jaw, trailing kisses down toward her neck — slow, open-mouthed, just enough to make her breath catch.

“because now i’m thinking maybe we don’t go.”

her pulse jumped. “auston—”

“just hear me out,” he murmured, lips brushing that spot just beneath her ear. “we stay in. i’ll pour wine. you wear this—” he tugged lightly at the side of her dress, “or nothing at all. we’ll order takeout. i'll rub your feet. let you talk my ear off about your award. i’ll even pretend to know what any of it means.”

she was laughing, but it was breathless, her fingers curling into his lapel like she might actually give in.

“you’re ridiculous,” she whispered.

“no,” he said, trailing kisses to the corner of her mouth, “i’m so serious. you don’t know what it’s doing to me—watching you walk around like this. i’ll be good, baby. i swear. whatever you want.”

his hand slid over her thigh, just beneath the slit. heat bloomed low in her stomach.

“auston,” she warned, but it was weak, more of a sigh than anything else.

his voice dropped, a little rougher now. “say the word. i’ll lock that door and we won’t leave. not for hours.”

and she thought about it. god, she thought about it.

but just when her lips parted, just when she tilted toward him with a soft little gasp—he pulled back.

smug the same look he uses when he toys with her. as soon ashe met his grin she knew.

“nah,” he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder, “we better go. i wanna meet all your smart colleagues. see your campus. hear about how brilliant you were all those years i didn’t get to see it.”

she stared at him, flustered and flushed, trying not to smile too hard.

“you’re awful.”

“mm,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “but you like it.”

“god help me,” she muttered as she reached for her coat, “i really do.”

he took it from her hands and helped her into it, fingers lingering a moment too long on her arms, his gaze never softening.

and just before they stepped out into the hallway, he leaned in one last time.

“it’s not just anything,” he said, voice low, mouth brushing against hers, “you’re—”

he didn’t even finish it. just kissed her, slow and lingering, one hand still at her waist while the other cupped the back of her neck. her fingers curled around the lapels of his navy jacket — a deep, rich blue that complimented the black of her dress and made them look like something out of a movie.

when they pulled back, she gave him a look, that little half-smirk that always made his chest ache.

“so, you ready for the fancy ball?”

he raised a brow. “after seeing you in this? more than.”

and with one last look — reverent, almost — he offered her his hand.

“let's go i can't wait to show off my beautiful, intelligent, successful girl"

after the drive, he parks near the alumni center, quiet melodies spilling from the car speakers as they sit for a moment longer, the sun dipping just enough to cast a golden hue over the university’s buildings. when she reaches for the door, he catches her hand.

“wait,” he says, lacing their fingers. “can we—can we walk around first? i kinda wanna see it.”

she smiles, surprised. “the campus?”

“yeah.” he squeezes her hand. “i never really got… this. dorms, campus parties, lectures i’d sleep through.”

“so, you want the tour?” she teases, opening her door.

“only if the tour guide’s you.”

they wander past the stone buildings and wide lawns, the sidewalks worn from years of students racing to class. it’s quiet now, peaceful, the way only summer campuses can be. his fingers never leave hers—thumb brushing the side of her hand, pinky occasionally curling around hers tighter like he can’t help it.

it feels natural. like they’ve always been this way.

“it’s kinda pretty,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the ivy along one of the old lecture halls. “but i probably wouldn’t have fit in.”

she stops walking, looking up at him. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” he shrugs, glancing at a group of framed grad photos in the window of the humanities building. “i was on the road a lot with the program. bus to bus. rink to rink. i barely finished high school before i was flying to switzerland.”

she nudges his side gently. “i still think you would’ve been the talk of the campus.”

he raises an eyebrow, smirking. “yeah?”

“yeah.” she nods, smiling. “like, who’s that hockey player on arizona? why is he in my intro to psych class when he clearly doesn’t care? who is he dating?”

he grins. “and then they’d see me with you and wonder how ten hell i managed that?”

“exactly.”

he pulls her closer by the hand they’re still holding, steps in front of her now, slowing their pace. “well, for the record… i would’ve only gone for you.”

her breath catches, lips parting slightly.

“if we ever tried back then,” he says, voice softer now, eyes on hers, “when you weren’t with trent… i would’ve gone to college for you.”

she stares at him for a second, caught off guard by the sincerity. the weight of what he said. the way he said it—without hesitation, without shame. like there was no world in which he wouldn’t have followed her here if he’d had the chance.

“you mean that?” she asked, knowing he thought as much about their past as she did since reuniting

“i do,” he says. “i would’ve sat through any lecture, learned any dumb subject, just to meet you between classes. just to take you home after.”

she bites the inside of her cheek, heart aching with something tender and warm and unfair all at once.

they stand there for a moment longer, just them and the quiet rustle of wind in the trees above, until she reaches up and straightens the lapel of his navy suit jacket with a soft, “come on. let’s go be fancy.”

he holds the door open for her as they enter the building. but he keeps her hand in his.

he doesn’t let go.

the event hall hums with laughter and conversation, heels clicking over polished floors and the soft clink of glass. the décor is elegant but not overdone—maroon tablecloths, gold-rimmed glasses, small centerpieces of fresh-cut florals—and the moment they step in, y/n straightens up beside him, like muscle memory taking over.

“hey—” she starts, tugging his hand gently. “i should probably tell you—”

but before she can finish, a voice from across the room calls her name, warm and loud and familiar. “dr. y/l/n?”

and just like that, she’s swept away.

handshakes, hugs, inside jokes that stretch over years and years. professors who still call her “doc” with pride. a few former classmates who ask where she’s been hiding since graduation, eyes flicking briefly to auston before returning to her. she introduces him when she can—“this is auston”—but most of them just nod politely, not recognizing him.

and it’s almost a relief.

no photos, no autographs, no whispers of stats or injuries. it’s like being on another planet, one where auston gets to be just a guy at a party, holding his girl’s purse while she hugs her old program chair.

but eventually, she’s deep in conversation with a cluster of women talking about dissertation committees, so he excuses himself to the bar.

he orders them both drinks, leaning casually against the counter, glancing over his shoulder every so often to find her. that’s when someone steps up next to him.

“is that who i think it is?”

auston turns, slightly startled. the guy’s in a deep green suit, hair tousled like he didn’t try but somehow pulled it off. clean smile. confident posture.

“whoa. you’re… auston matthews, right?”

“yeah,” auston says slowly, extending a hand.

“i knew it. man, i followed your whole draft year. wild numbers. been a leafs fan since i was a kid—god help me.”

auston chuckles, relaxing a little. they slip into easy talk—line changes, summer training, the upcoming season. the guy knows his stuff, surprisingly well. auston finds himself actually enjoying it.

until the guy says, “so what brings you here? don’t tell me you've got a phd.”

auston smirks. “i’m here with my girl.”

the guy raises an eyebrow, amused. “anyone i know?”

auston opens his mouth, ready to say her name—but then, as if on cue, y/n walks up to his side.

“hey—sorry, that took forever,” she says, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“y/n,” the guy finishes with a grin, reaching out. “i was wondering when i’d see you”

auston’s brows lift, looking between them. “wait—you guys know each other?”

y/n winces like she’s taken a shot of bad tequila, smiling tightly. “unfortunately. auston… this is sebastian. sebastian, this is auston—my boyfriend.”

a beat.

the word lands in his chest like a surprise punch he didn’t see coming.

boyfriend.

he hadn’t expected it, not like that, not here. but his heart does a stupid little leap anyway. he glances at her—there’s a soft flush in her cheeks, the tiniest flicker of nerves in her eyes—and for a second, he forgets everything else.

“boyfriend, huh?” sebastian says, shaking auston’s hand now with a grin. “who knew ex would be dating auston matthews.”

auston blinks. his grip tightens slightly in the handshake.

ex?

he turns to y/n. she gives him a look. he's deluded.

“small world,” sebastian adds, sipping his drink, not even hiding the smirk that curls at the corners of his mouth.

auston pulls y/n a little closer by the waist, anchoring her beside him. “yeah,” he says, steady. “real small.”

y/n slides her fingers into his free hand, squeezing gently. when he glances at her again, she mouths, i’ll explain.

and for now, that’s enough.

because no matter who sebastian is or was, she just called auston my boyfriend in front of an ex—and that, in his book, feels like a win.

the only way y/n could describe sebastian was honestly being a pain. not in the way that kept her up at night or made her avoid rooms—but enough to make her roll her eyes whenever he popped up, like a stubborn weed in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn.

she looked up from auston's side, eyebrow cocked. “excuse me? i am not your ex.”

he laughed, low and easy. “come on, we were exclusively sleeping together. that counts for something.”

she snorted, shaking her head. “once or twice. and frankly, it wasn’t memorable. considering how short you lasted.”

he shot her a mock offended look, but the spark in his eyes told her this was his favourite game.

“you always were the star pupil, head of the class,” he teased, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. “i was just the jealous sidekick.”

she bit back a smile. “keep telling yourself that, sebastian.”

sebastian’s eyes flicked between the two of them, that familiar smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth like he was gearing up for something clever.

“so this is the new guy?” he asked, voice dipped in condescension. "who knew your type was jocks?”

auston didn’t flinch. he stood still, straight-backed in his navy suit, the kind of posture that spoke more than words ever could. his hand didn’t move from where it lightly rested on the small of y/n’s back, just enough to be steadying, but far from possessive. showing how much he needed to hold her.

y/n felt it — that slight shift in pressure, the way his fingertips subtly grazed over the fabric of her dress like a silent anchor. she leaned ever so slightly into him, her weight natural against his side, the motion unnoticeable to anyone but the three of them.

“that’s me,” auston said evenly, his tone pleasant. “didn’t expect to run into a fan here.”

sebastian blinked, caught off guard. “a fan?”

“didn't you just say you were a huge leafs fan your whole life?" auston said smoothly, offering a half-smile as he handed y/n the drink he’d gone to get her, his eyes not quite leaving sebastian.

"i wouldn't say huge" he scrambles to recover himself. his eye twitched clearly irritated at the couple infront of him

“so, you two go way back?” auston asked casually, though the meaning simmered beneath.

y/n answered before sebastian could puff his chest. “nope. not at all.”

“huh.” auston looked down at her with something like affection warming his expression. “shame. seems like he remembers it more than you do.”

she smirked, lifting her glass to her lips. “must’ve made a bigger impression on himself.”

“probably why he’s still talking about it,” auston added under his breath, but just loud enough.

sebastian huffed out something like a laugh, clearly irritated. “well, if you ever want to catch up, y/n—”

“i think i’m all caught up,” she said simply, her gaze cool.

auston didn’t say anything else. he didn’t have to. his presence beside her was grounded and still, like a line had been drawn with a single quiet gesture. his thumb brushed once, lightly, against her back. a private motion.

and she leaned into him again, her heel just grazing his shoe, eyes never leaving sebastian.

whatever game sebastian had in mind, it was over before it started.

once sebastian finally slinked off — with a muttered goodbye and a smug little nod — auston guided y/n toward their assigned table, his hand warm and steady on the small of her back. he didn’t say anything right away, just pulled her chair out gently, lingering for a moment as she sat.

he took the seat beside her, not across. close enough their arms brushed when he shifted. he spread his legs a bit wider than necessary, his thigh angled toward hers, and her heel, completely on instinct, landed against the inside of his calf. when she crossed her legs, the point of her heel slowly dragged up his leg.

he tilted his head slightly, glancing down at her with that familiar, knowing grin.

“boyfriend, huh?” his voice was low, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and wrapped in amusement.

she didn’t look at him right away, just took a sip of her drink and smirked behind the rim. “figured it’d get the point across.”

he hummed. “were you just saying that or is that what you want me to be?”

her lips twitched as she finally turned to him, eyes gleaming under the soft lighting. “i figured we were dating,” she murmured, her fingers reaching out to smooth the front of his tie, the movement slow and teasing. “but i was waiting for you to ask, matthews.”

he chuckled under his breath, watching her closely. “you were gonna make me ask?”

“of course,” she said, smug now. “you think i’d just give you the title without a little effort?”

“i take care of you everyday and make sure you're fed and caffeinated,” he whispered, eyes dark as he leaned in. “that counts as effort.”

her laugh was soft but warm, and her heel continued its lazy trail up his calf. “so dramatic.”

“i’m serious,” he murmured, his hand brushing against the curve of her knee under the table. “i like taking you out. more than that.”

she tilted her head, giving him that look — the one that always made him lean in without realizing it. “you like being mine?”

“i do.” he met her gaze, sincere beneath all the teasing. “don’t really care what we call it, as long as it’s us.”

her heel paused for a second, then moved again, slower this time. “you liked hearing it though, didn’t you?” she asked, voice quiet but knowing.

he glanced down to where her hand still played with his tie. “yeah,” he said, honest, soft. “i really did.”

his hand drifted under the table, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing along the slit of her dress, settling against the bare skin of her thigh. his thumb traced idle circles there, warmth pooling beneath his touch, and it made her breath catch just slightly.

“you’re gonna have to act surprised,” he murmured, voice low and meant only for her. his eyes stayed on hers, like the room had gone quiet just for them. “when i take you out to dinner sunday.”

she blinked, her brows pinching playfully. “why?”

he leaned in closer, his thumb still tracing along her skin. “because i was gonna ask you then to be my girlfriend then.”

she blinked again — the good kind of stunned — and then a grin split across her face so fast it made him laugh.

“you were gonna make a whole thing out of it,” she said, her tone delighted, her knee bumping his under the table. “did you already tell the restaurant?”

he nodded, trying not to look too pleased with himself. “i told them it was kind of a special occasion and asked for their most expensive bottle.”

she bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide, but it didn’t work. “you’re so sneaky.”

he smirked, squeezing her thigh gently. “and now you’ve ruined the whole surprise with your 'this is my sexy athletic rich boyfriend’ moment.”

"shut up" she laughed while lightly nudged his chest. he remained in her orbit. “that was necessary. i had to put your little fanboy in his place.” she leaned in, chin lifted defiantly, “

“who that guy?” auston scoffed under his breath. “he’s never recovering from not getting the best of you. can't say i'm complaining"

she leaned in again, just until her lips were at the corner of his jaw. "fine. i guess i'll act surprised sunday. wouldn't want to ruin your surprise”

he turned to face her, their noses nearly brushing. “yeah,” he said. “you better practice your acting skills, baby.”

they didn’t have long to dwell in their quiet bubble. moments later, the lights dimmed and the gentle clink of silverware settled into silence. auston leaned back in his seat, his fingers brushing against hers under the table.

“this the part where you get the nobel peace prize” he murmured, teasing, but soft with something heavier underneath.

she smiled, shaking her head like it wasn’t much. “just a little recognition. it’s not a big deal.”

he gave her a look — like he didn’t quite believe her, but let it go for now.

then the host took the stage, and as soon as her name was spoken — full name, said with purpose — a quiet hush of pride washed through the room. applause started small, then swelled as the announcer listed out the sheer scope of her involvement: lead organizer, community outreach, long-standing volunteer, mentorship programs, scholarship initiatives — things auston hadn’t even heard her mention once.

he sat a little straighter, his brow furrowed, glancing over at her as she stood, smoothing the front of her dress.

she didn’t look nervous. she looked radiant.

he clapped, of course he clapped, but his hands slowed for a moment when he noticed how many others were already on their feet. people were nodding, smiling with real warmth as she walked toward the stage. and one by one, they greeted her — a few shook her hand with reverence, others wrapped her in hugs that spoke of years of admiration and pride. she hugged them back just as tightly, her grin wide and uncontained, and for a second auston felt like he was seeing her through someone else’s eyes.

he always knew she was special. he always knew she worked hard and cared deeply and poured herself into everything she touched. but this — this was different.

this was everyone else knowing it too.

he lifted his phone to record her as she accepted the plaque, smiling with something soft and stunned behind the camera. she wasn’t just some girlfriend people whispered about being with him. she was the kind of person they whispered about with awe — “that’s her,” they’d say. “she hosts the annual adoption fundraisers with the arizona humane society.”

as she walked off stage, a younger volunteer stopped her mid-aisle with wide eyes, thanking her, hugging her. then another. and then an older woman approached her a proud gleam in hers, clasping her hands between both of hers. auston couldn’t hear what they said, but the way y/n’s eyes shimmered a little said enough.

when she returned to their table — cheeks flushed and smile still stretched wide — auston didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at her, the corners of his mouth pulling into something small and in awe.

“what?” she asked, slightly breathless, tucking her hair behind her ear.

he leaned in again, like he couldn’t not. “you’re incredible,” he murmured.

she blinked, taken aback for a beat, then softened. “you’re just saying that because of the plaque.”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i mean it. i knew you were amazing, but…”his voice dropped a little, eyes lingering on her face. “you’re kind of a big deal, huh?”

her cheeks flushed deeper, laughing shyly. “stop.”

he smiled. “never.” then, quieter — more to himself — “i’m so proud of you.”

and when she reached under the table, slipping her hand into his again, he squeezed it gently. he didn’t let go for the rest of the night.

the ballroom lights dimmed just slightly, the music shifting to something slower, something with a sultry beat that settled like smoke over the room. the clinking of glasses faded beneath the low thrum of the bass, voices dipping into whispers, laughter softening into murmurs.

auston held out his hand, and without hesitation, she took it.

they moved onto the dance floor with practiced ease, even if they'd never done this before — it felt instinctive, the way her body slid against his as he pulled her close, one arm around her waist, the other clasping her hand against his chest. the slit in her dress parted with each step, revealing more of her thigh than the room probably warranted, but auston didn’t seem to mind.

in fact, his eyes dropped to the exposed skin, then flicked back up, darker now. heavier.

“you know this dress is criminal,” he murmured, his voice brushing against her temple. “you’re lucky i've been on my best behaviour.”

she let out a quiet laugh, letting her head fall back slightly as she swayed with him. “this is your best behaviour?”

he leaned in just enough so only she could hear. “not even close,” his hand slid lower on her back, “all i can think of is how i’m gonna take you home. make good on everything i’ve been thinking about since you opened that damn door.”

she tilted her chin, lips brushing along the edge of his jaw. “like what?”

his hand squeezed at her hip, drawing her tighter into him. “like the way you looked when you walked out of that bathroom. had me speechless. almost canceled the night right then.”

“mm,” she hummed, fingers idly adjusting his tie. “you were supposed to play it cool.”

“i’ve never been good at that with you.” his lips brushed her cheekbone, breath warm and measured. “every time you move, this dress shifts and i get another inch of thigh. it’s not fair.”

“good,” she said, teasing, her heel dragging gently up his calf again. “you deserve to suffer a little.”

he let out a quiet groan and pressed his forehead to hers. “keep doing that and your boyfriend’s gonna lose his last thread of self-control.”

she smiled, soft but dangerous. “then maybe my boyfriend should take me home.”

his head lifted, eyes narrowing slightly. “yeah?”

she nodded once, eyes full of promise. “and make good on those promises.”

he stepped back just enough to grab her hand again, no hesitation this time.

“then let’s get the hell out of here.”

the car ride felt endless.

every red light, every turn, every slow driver in front of them — it all stretched out the ache between them, taut and pulsing, like a cord wound tight enough to snap. her hand had rested on his thigh the entire time, fingers drifting just enough to drive him half-mad, and every time he glanced at her, her eyes sparkled with knowing.

by the time they reached his house, the tension had twisted into something unbearable.

auston barely managed to park before he was out of the driver’s seat and around the car. she stepped out and he caught her by the waist, pressing her back against the door before it even closed, his mouth on hers in seconds. she gasped softly against him as he kissed her like he was starving — like that slow dance and the way she’d whispered my boyfriend should take me home had been a challenge, not a request.

her hands slid up his chest, over the lapels of his suit jacket, as he reached behind blindly, fumbling with the lock before the door gave with a soft click.

they stumbled inside, barely breaking the kiss, lips brushing between breathless laughs and hushed exhales. her back hit the inside of the front door with a gentle thud, and he kissed down her neck, his hands bracketing her waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of the slit in her dress.

“auston—” she started, voice a little breathless, her fingers gripping his jacket lapels again, “where’s your family?”

he paused just enough to look up at her, forehead resting against hers.

“at my sister’s,” he murmured, lips brushing hers between words. “they’re staying over. hiking in the morning.”

she let out a relieved laugh — short and sweet — before pulling him back into her with a quiet, eager noise. “perfect.”

he didn’t waste a second. his lips found hers again, deep and slow, and the heat between them roared back to life. he let his hands wander this time — dragging up her sides, sliding beneath the open drape of her dress at her back, fingers tracing the delicate lace-up ribbon there.

“you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he said against her mouth, “this dress, those heels...”

“you’re not doing so bad yourself, matthews,” she whispered, tugging at his tie just enough to loosen it, sliding her hand beneath the collar. “looking like a navy-blue sin.”

he groaned, pulling her off the door just enough to spin them around, walking her backward down the hallway — each kiss a little more urgent, a little more desperate.

her heels clicked softly against the floor, echoing with each step he took toward his room.

“was the drive long for you too?” he asked, lips brushing over her cheek, down her jaw, as they moved.

“agonizing,” she replied, her hand on the back of his neck now. “i almost told you to pull over.”

he let out a low laugh, nipping at her earlobe. “don’t tempt me. next time, i will.”

her back hit the doorframe of his bedroom and she smiled, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, hair slightly out of place from all his hands. beautiful, he thought — not just from the dress, not just from the night — just her, here, like this, with him.

“you know,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth, “you really were the smartest person in the room tonight.”

she kissed him once, slowly. “and yet somehow... still not smart enough to keep my hands off you.”

he pulled her into the room, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them off from the world.

“good,” he breathed, eyes dark. “because you’re not gonna need to.”

his voice was low, rough, barely a whisper against her lips, and it sent a sharp thrill through her. he didn’t give her time to reply — his mouth found hers again, deep and possessive, like he’d been waiting to say that all night.

she smiled into the kiss, fingers already working to undo the of his shirt, pulling it free from his pants as she walked him backward toward the bed.

“been waiting to get you out of this all night,” she murmured against his jaw, lips trailing down to his throat, “you look so good in blue.”

he let out a low groan, tipping his head back as her teeth grazed his skin.

“you’ve got a mouth on you tonight,” he muttered, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her dress, fingers ghosting up her thighs, “think i should do something about it.”

“you should,” she whispered, dragging her tongue along the shell of his ear, “but you won’t. you love when i get like this.”

he laughed, a deep sound in his chest that made her stomach flip.

“yeah,” he said, lips grazing her collarbone now, “i really do.”

she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. her fingers tangled in the loosened tie still hanging around his neck.

“i can't believe you were gonna make me wait until the weekend ,” she said softly, tugging the tie just enough to bring him close again, “to ask me to be your girlfriend”

he nodded, eyes dark. “was gonna take you somewhere nice. make you blush. order wine. pretend i’m not dying to drag you home the whole time.”

“so romantic,” she teased, grin wicked.

he leaned in, his lips brushing just below her ear now. “i was gonna get you flowers. tell you how crazy you make me feel.”

“mm.” she curled her fingers around his neck. “you could’ve just said that tonight, saved me from being on the edge of my seat all the time.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he breathed. “besides, watching you in that dress tonight... torture. the good kind.”

“you like it?”

he pulled back just enough to look at her — really look — the dim light catching the soft sheen of her skin, the way the chiffon skirt clung to her hips, the way the slit revealed just enough leg to haunt him forever.

“you know i do.” he ran his hand up her thigh, slow and purposeful. “you wore this for me?”

she nodded, lips barely parted. “told you. wanted to see if you’d behave. this is your reward.”

his hand slid higher. “you already know the answer to that.”

she gasped as his fingers reached the apex of her thigh, just brushing against the thin lace beneath.

“auston...”

“yeah?” he whispered, mouth brushing her neck again. “say it.”

“want you to touch me,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “want you to tell me all the things you were thinking about during that stupid drive home.”

he hummed low in his throat. “i was thinking about this,” he said, hand sliding beneath the lace. “how warm you’d feel. how wet.”

she whimpered, fingers clutching his shirt. “i was thinking about it too. how good you looked at that bar. how smug you were when you said i was your girl.”

“you are.” his lips were right at her ear now. “mine. and i’ve barely started showing you what that means.”

“then start,” she whispered, pulling him closer, the heat between them nearly unbearable. “please.”

his eyes darkened as he scooped her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist again as he carried her the rest of the way to the bed.

“say it again,” he murmured, easing her down onto the mattress. “say please.”

she looked up at him, lips parted, breath shallow, and smiled.

“please, auston.”

he leaned down, brushing his mouth over her collarbone, over the hollow of her throat.

“good girl.”

the words rumbled against her throat like a promise, low and deliberate, and she exhaled a quiet whimper, arching slightly beneath him.

his mouth found hers again, slower this time, more purposeful. she could feel the heat rolling off him, the restraint he was just barely holding on to as his hands wandered her body, like he was learning her all over again.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured, one hand sweeping her leg aside so he could settle between her thighs, the split of her dress falling away like water.

“yeah?” she whispered, chasing his mouth. “how long?”

“since you walked into the room that day at the clinc,” he said, lips brushing hers between every word, “since you looked up at me like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“i did,” she confessed breathlessly, fingers tugging his tie free and tossing it to the side. “i wanted you to lose your mind.”

he chuckled darkly, pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, revealing the sheer edge of her lace bra. his mouth followed the path of his fingers.

"you wear this for me?" his mouth watered as he traced the lace of her lingerie. the same shade of her discarded gown.

"of course. only for you" she managed at the trace of his hands

“congrats,” he muttered against her skin, “you got what you wanted.”

“not yet, i didn’t.”

“mm,” he hummed, dragging his lips lower, fingers brushing along her ribs. “you’re greedy tonight.”

“i want all of you,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair, voice thinner now, needier. “not just the way you kiss me. not just the way you look at me like you could ruin me.”

he stilled at that. just for a moment. then his eyes lifted to hers. dark, weighted, molten.

“i don’t want to ruin you,” he said quietly. “i want to worship you.”

she swore she forgot how to breathe.

but he didn’t let her linger in it — his mouth was already sliding down her sternum, his hands lifting her skirt until it bunched around her hips, baring her completely. his voice came again, low, heavy, right against the inside of her thigh

“tell me what you need.”

her hips lifted subtly, instinctively. “you.”

“where?” he asked, thumb brushing the edge of her lace.

“everywhere,” she whispered, flushed and gasping as he kissed the inside of her knee.

“you don’t make it easy to behave.”

“i don’t want you to.”

he hooked her underwear with slow, deliberate fingers, drawing it down her legs, dragging his mouth across her thigh until she was trembling beneath him.

“look at you,” he murmured, spreading her legs just enough so he could press a kiss to her inner thigh. “laid out like this for me, all soft and sweet.”

“auston—”

“shh, baby.” his hand came up, holding her hip gently as his lips dipped lower. “you’ll get what you want.”

and she did.

she got every breathless stroke of his tongue, every low groan against her that vibrated through her spine. her hand gripped the sheets, the other buried in his hair, tugging him closer as he worked her open with slow, perfect focus. he whispered her name like a vow between strokes, like a man devout in worship.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice rough and full of pride, “just like that. taste so good. been thinking about you like this since the second you looked at me in that damn dress.”

she bucked beneath him, overwhelmed, thighs trembling against the pressure of his shoulders — but he didn’t ease up. he held her there, firm and focused, dragging her to the edge with quiet praise and relentless need.

when she came, it was with a stifled whimper into her hand, his name falling from her lips like it meant something sacred.

but he didn’t stop.

“auston—”

he crawled up her body, mouth slick and grin lazy. his weight pressed her into the mattress just enough to make her feel it — the full brunt of what they'd just done — and she melted beneath him, arms wrapping around his shoulders like instinct.

he reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a condom packet. her eyes narrowed at the familiar red packaging.

“someone was presumptuous,” she teased, fingertips trailing down his back, nails light and slow. “is that a costco value-pack?”

he raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "there’s this girl i’m seeing. can’t get her out of my head. figured she might finally let me have her.”

"now," he brought the packet to her lips, hovering with a grin. “rip it open for me, baby.”

she bit the corner, smiling around it as she tore it clean, handing it back. “smooth.”

“told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her mouth like he hadn’t just wrecked her. “not done with you.”

“you weren’t kidding,” she breathed, hands already at his belt, fingers trembling slightly.

“never am when it comes to you.”

she paused, fingers brushing his waistband. “just—before we do this... it’s been a long time. for me.”

he stilled, eyes softening. “me too.”

her brow furrowed, just a little. “really?"

he chuckled, low and warm. “not since earlier this year. and never like this.”

her tension eased. something settled.

he kissed her again, deeper now, as she freed him from his pants, their hands moving with shared urgency — kisses messy, laughter hushed between breathless curses. when her hand closed around him, he let out a guttural groan, hips twitching into her palm.

“fuck,” he whispered into her mouth. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“then die happy,” she murmured, wrapping her legs around his waist as he eased into her, slow and careful, stretching her inch by inch.

her breath caught, face buried in his neck. “you feel—god, auston—”

“you’re mine,” he growled, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made the headboard groan. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” she gasped, arms tight around him. “only yours.”

she cried out when he drove into her again, head falling back.

“shit,” she whimpered, nails sinking into his skin. “auston—”

he froze instantly, a hand running down her spine. “too much?”

her breath came ragged. “you’re just—jesus—you’re really…”

“big?” he offered, smirking despite the restraint in his eyes.

a breathless laugh escaped her. “what does the team feed you?”

he chuckled, brushing damp strands from her forehead. “just protein shakes and the fear of god.”

“this should be illegal,” she muttered, clinging tighter.

“want me to stop?”

she groaned. “no. just—i need a second.”

he kissed her forehead gently. “you wanna try something else?”

“like what?” she asked into his chest.

he grinned, slow and smug, and flipped them carefully, settling against the headboard with her in his lap.

“you on top,” he murmured. “your pace. i just watch.”

her legs tightened around him, something hot and electric in her eyes. “just watch?”

“or help,” he grinned, voice thick. “whatever you need.”

“you’re insane,” she whispered, lowering herself onto him again — slower this time, her breath shaking with every inch.

his jaw flexed. “yeah. for you.”

she moaned, soft and low, as he filled her again, and the stretch left her dizzy. but the way he held her steady, murmuring encouragement against her skin, made it easier to breathe.

“god, you’re thick,” she whispered.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“it’s not,” she gasped, starting to move. “but you better buy me a smoothie tomorrow. i won’t be able to walk.”

his eyes darkened as he watched her ride him, breath catching with every roll of her hips. “i’ll buy you a smoothie. i’ll buy you the damn blender.”

“good,” she whispered, tugging his hair as she kissed him, hungry and slow.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned. “you’re killing me.”

“you can handle it,” she teased. “big, strong hockey player like you?”

“smartass,” he growled, gripping her hips and grinding her down hard enough to make her cry out. “ride me like you mean it.”

they chased each other like that — hips rocking, mouths hungry, hands greedy — until everything else blurred and only they remained.

“baby—fuck—wait—” his voice cracked near her ear, arms tightening.

she froze, breathless. “what is it?”

“no, just—” he kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth. “wait for me.”

her brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

his forehead pressed to hers, voice breaking. “when i go back… when summer ends. i don’t know how i’m gonna do it, but i need to know you’ll wait.”

she went still, chest rising and falling against his.

“auston,” she whispered. “i didn’t think we were talking about that yet.”

“i know. but you’re it for me. i don’t care how long it’s been — it’s you. and if i leave not knowing you’re mine…”

she cupped his face, eyes shining. “you’ve been mine since the first time you made my niece like you more than me.”

a soft laugh escaped him. “so you’ll wait?”

“i’ll wait,” she nodded. “as long as you promise you’ll come back.”

his kiss was slow, deep. “i always come back to you.”

and then there were no more words.

just hands and breath and the soft sound of her name against his lips as they fell apart together — his arms tight around her, her mouth warm on his neck, the sheets tangled beneath them like a promise.

they froze there, tangled in each other beneath the covers, breath still uneven, he held her tighter than he ever had before.

she laid collapsed against his chest, shaking and spent, all he could do was kiss her temple and whisper, “you feel like home.”

and so did he.

the morning sun spilled lazily through the windows, casting soft light over the tangled sheets and still bodies. his arms were still around her — one underneath her, curled under her ribcage, and the other draped across her stomach like instinct.

she blinked awake slowly, her face still pressed into his chest. his heartbeat was steady, slow. she felt his breath on her forehead, and her nose scrunched as it tickled.

“you’re awake,” she mumbled, voice raspy.

“and you drool,” he replied sleepily, voice still husky from sleep.

“you're lying,” she grinned, not bothering to move, nuzzling further in instead.

his chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “if you say so, baby.”

they laid there for a while, bare and content and quiet. then his hand slid down her back, and he stretched beneath her.

“stay here,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “i’ll make breakfast.”

“you?” she peeked up, suspicious. “you know how to do that?”

“have a little faith.” he smirked, carefully untangling from her. “you’ll see.”

she rolled onto her back and winced slightly.

he caught it immediately.

“sore?” he asked, a little too smug.

“shut up,” she groaned, covering her eyes.

“you’re welcome.”

she threw a pillow at him as he laughed his way down the hall, wearing nothing but boxers and yesterday’s grin. she eventually got up, tugging on the closest things she could find — his oversized leafs tee and the pair of sweats he left draped over her chair sometime this week.

he heard her before he saw her — the subtle creak of the stairs, the lazy scrape of her heel against the floor. morning light stretched in long ribbons across the kitchen tiles, and the scent of coffee still lingered faintly in the air from when he’d brewed it earlier just the way she liked it. he didn’t expect her to be awake yet, not after the night they’d had. his muscles still ached in the best way, a quiet reminder of just how close they’d been only hours ago.

but then she stepped into the doorway, and his whole world tilted.

she was wearing one of his team shirts — not one he usually wore around her, not even one he thought she’d ever noticed. it was older, slightly faded, vintage navy with the classic crest stretched gently across her chest, and it hung off her like it was made for her.

the fabric slipped off one shoulder, revealing warm skin and the soft slope of her collarbone. it fell just far enough to cover her, but not enough to be decent, not when paired with the loose grey sweats she’d tugged halfway up her hips. her hair was pulled into a knot on her hair, and she looked like everything he didn’t know he’d missed.

he froze with the spatula in his hand, halfway through flipping her eggs.

she blinked up at him sleepily. “what?”

he couldn’t answer. his mouth opened slightly, then closed again, and all he could do was stare. not in a crude way, not even in an overly awestruck way — just... completely undone. there was something about her like this that unraveled him, something quieter than desire but just as intense. maybe it was the way she moved so effortlessly through his space, like she belonged there. maybe it was the shirt — how natural it looked on her, how wrong it felt that he’d never seen her in it before. he’d spent so many mornings with her, but this one felt different. deeper. familiar in the way that made his chest ache.

“that shirt,” he said, voice low, finally finding the words. “i’ve never seen you wear that one.”

she glanced down, tugged the hem idly. “this? found it buried in the back of your closet last night.”

he let out a soft laugh, more breath than sound. “you look... fuck. don’t take it off unless i do it for you”

she rolled her eyes and padded over to pour herself some coffee. he tried to act normal after that, focused on their breakfast, but his eyes kept drifting back to her — to the slope of her legs, to the way the shirt swayed with every movement. she didn’t even notice the effect she had on him. or maybe she did. she always did.

they sat together at the island, knees brushing beneath the counter, the air filled with the clink of cutlery and quiet conversation. she sipped her coffee with that familiar hum of contentment, and he watched her through the corner of his eye, just happy to be near her like this again. something about mornings with her felt more intimate than anything they did at night — like every shared bite, every sleepy smile, was another reason he wanted her forever.

after they finished eating, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh and started to push herself up.

“i should clean up,” she mumbled, moving to stand.

he didn’t let her.

“nope,” he said, voice low as he came around behind her.

“no?” she asked, glancing up at him.

before she could say anything else, his hands were curling around her thighs and, with one effortless motion, he lifted her clean off the chair.

“what are you—”

she gasped, instinctively clinging to his shoulders as laughter spilled out of her.

“you’re insane!” she giggled, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“you’re obviously still sore,” he murmured against her skin, lips brushing the edge of her jaw. “i’m carrying you back to bed.”

“this is your excuse to manhandle me.”

“you caught.”

“i’m not complaining.”

he smiled, the kind that made her stomach twist, and pressed a kiss just below her ear as he walked them slowly down the hall. her laughter trailed behind them, light and breathless, legs swinging lazily with each step. the hem of her shirt — his shirt — crept higher with every movement, and he didn’t even bother pretending not to notice.

when they reached the bedroom, he kicked the door open with his foot and laid her down gently, like she was something breakable. she landed on the bed with a soft sigh, hair fanned out across the pillow, looking up at him with that lazy smile he couldn’t get enough of.

her fingers reached for him, drawing him down without a word.

“i’d wait forever for you.”

her breath caught, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep in her chest. she was reminded of his promises last night, coming to light. the realization dawned on her how serious he was to make it work.

she blinked up at him, eyes softer now, lips parting like she might say something — but didn’t. instead, she reached for his hand, fingers finding his like they belonged there, like they always had.

he didn’t look away.

neither did she.

and in the quiet between them, something shifted. not in a loud, crashing way — but in the way her body relaxed against the sheets, in the way he leaned closer like it was instinct, in the way their joined hands stayed between them, steady and sure.

he wasn’t just someone she would miss anymore at the end of summer.

he was someone she had.

someone who knew her laugh, her silences, the way she pulled her sleeves over her hands when she got nervous. someone who made space for her without asking her to shrink.

he’d already seen the most vulnerable parts of her — and he hadn’t run.

that meant more to her than anything else in the world.

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER SEVEN

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 9.5k

warnings — minors dni. sexual content

an — late night update

masterlist

auston groaned through the final set of shoulder presses, sweat sliding down the back of his neck as ryan, his team-appointed personal trainer, counted him down in that same unfazed, nonchalant tone he’d heard for years.

“three more. come on. don’t wimp out on me now, matthews.”

“i’m not,” auston huffed, pushing through the burn. “you sound like lou.” their head strength and conditioning coach.

ryan chuckled, arms crossed as he watched auston’s form. “he was pissed, you know. ghosting your offseason program? rookie mistake.”

“i didn’t ghost,” auston muttered, voice strained. “i just… paused.”

ryan shot him a look. “for how long?”

“a couple weeks.”

“and what were you doing for those couple weeks?”

auston grinned despite the ache in his arms, a dumb smile tugging at his lips even mid-set. “seeing someone.”

ryan raised a brow. “oh?”

“yeah.” auston dropped the weights with a quiet thud and sat back on the bench, chest rising and falling with effort. “her name’s y/n. we grew up together. ran into her again when i came back here. haven’t really stopped talking since.”

“huh.” ryan tossed him a towel. “and she’s the reason you skipped workouts?”

“no,” auston said quickly, then hesitated. “okay, maybe a little.”

ryan laughed. “she must be something.”

auston nodded as he wiped the sweat from his face. “she is.”

once they wrapped up and ryan moved on to another client, auston lingered in the locker room of the private training facility, cooling down. he scrolled through his phone, fingers tapping through old texts — most of them from y/n — until her name lit up the screen with a new one.

baby ❤️: i need you when you’re done

his brows pulled together. no emojis. no extra words. just those five. he didn’t waste time replying. instead, he immediately hit call, switching to speaker as he peeled off his damp shirt and reached for a fresh one in his bag.

“hey,” he said, stepping into the shower area while the water ran behind him, steam starting to fill the space. “you good?”

“yeah, all good,” she said quickly, her voice light but a little breathless, like she’d rushed to pick up. “so… i need to ask you something.”

he laughed under his breath, setting his phone on the dry ledge of the sink. “do you have any idea how that text sounded?”

“what?” she asked, a smile in her tone.

“you text me ‘i need you’ like you’re in trouble, and then answer the phone all casual. you trying to give me a heart attack?”

she giggled. “okay, fair. sorry. i didn’t mean for it to sound that dramatic. i was tending to a patient and texted you in a rush.”

he stepped under the water, angling himself so he could still hear her. “so what’s up? what do you need?”

“do you… have a suit?”

he paused mid-shampoo, blinking water from his eyes. “yeah, course i do. i’m not a caveman. why?”

“well,” she said, and he could hear the shyness creeping in, “i kind of forgot tonight is the alumni ball at ASU. it’s this formal thing they do every year for alumni, recent grads, and professors… but this one’s specifically for stem graduates. they invited me because i’m receiving an award for community outreach and mentorship.”

he blinked, a slow grin pulling at his face. “and you need a date.”

“i do,” she said with a soft laugh. “i know it’s last minute and you’ve been so busy lately and i’ve already stolen so much of your time—”

“hey,” he cut in, rinsing off, “you didn’t steal anything. i wanted every second with you. and second—of course i’ll go.”

“really?”

“yes.” he stepped out, grabbing a towel. “i’ll be your date. though, you’ve got some nerve.”

he continued, toweling off. “taking me to a fancy dinner as your date. you trying to impress me, y/n?”

she giggled again, warm and fond. “technically it’s not dinner. it’s a ball.”

“even worse. now i gotta wear a tie.”

“you look good in a tie.”

“you look good in everything.”

she hummed, pleased. “you’re sure you’re up for it?”

“y/n,” he said, more serious now, pulling on fresh clothes, “any excuse to be near you tonight? i’m in. i'll have you know i hot in a suit”

“i don't doubt that. thank you,” she said, softer this time. “i’ll send you the details.”

he smiled and leaned against the locker, phone back in hand. “can’t wait to see you all dressed up.”

“ditto.”

“and y/n?”

“yeah?”

“wear something sexy for me.”

there’s a pause on the other end, then her laugh filters through the speaker, warm and bright.

“oh, so it’s that kind of event now?”

“depends on the dress,” he murmurs, clearly enjoying himself.

he could hear the smile in her voice. “i'll see what i can do.”

later that day, he stood just inside her bedroom, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes moving slowly over the space.

it was neat — not in a sterile or untouched way, but intentional. warm. curated. the soft glow of a corner lamp painted the walls in gold, and her perfume lingered faintly in the air like a memory. a small woven basket in the corner held a couple of toys, and a playmat lay carefully folded beside it. near her desk, a collection of hand-drawn pictures were tacked to the wall — messy crayon hearts, clumsy rainbows, and a few childlike signatures in crooked lettering. he paused there for a moment, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took them in.

“i’ll be out in a minute!” her voice called from the washroom.

“take your time,” he replied, though his pulse had already picked up. he hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet, but standing in her room — her world — with its soft edges and quiet affection, made something stir deep in his chest.

then the bathroom door opened.

and he went still.

she stepped out in black — that dress. it clung and draped in all the right places, the bodice hugging her waist just enough, an asymmetrical neckline pulling his gaze toward the delicate lace-up detailing along her back. the chiffon skirt moved with her like a sigh, catching lamplight and revealing flashes of skin through a thigh-high slit as she walked forward, graceful and completely unaware of the way she’d just shattered him.

the scarf she’d draped over her arm was momentarily forgotten as she glanced down to adjust the hem.

“okay,” she exhaled, smoothing her hair, still not looking at him. “what do you think?”

he didn’t answer. his mouth parted, stunned. he blinked, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with his eyes.

when she finally looked up and caught his expression, she stilled. “what?”

he shook his head, laughed softly. “i’ve never seen you like this.”

“like what?” she teased, cheeks already heating up.

he took a step toward her, hand rising to her waist, careful not to wrinkle the fabric. “like you’re about to ruin me before we even leave.”

she laughed, swatting his chest. “you’re so dramatic.”

“am i?” he grinned, but his eyes were still heavy on her. “you walk out looking like that and expect me to act normal?”

“it’s just a dress.”

but he hadn’t stopped looking. not once. even as they left her room — him with a guiding hand at the small of her back, sneaking glances like he was afraid she might vanish — she could feel the tension humming under his skin.

they walked through the apartment, low lighting glowing across the hardwood floors, the city just starting to blush outside her windows.

“you know,” he said as she reached for her clutch, voice dipping low as he leaned against the doorframe, “you really shouldn’t have come out of that bathroom looking like that.”

she turned, brow raised, amused. “why not?”

his eyes darkened, and he moved toward her again, slower this time. his fingers found the edge of her scarf, brushing it aside before his mouth found her jaw, trailing kisses down toward her neck — slow, open-mouthed, just enough to make her breath catch.

“because now i’m thinking maybe we don’t go.”

her pulse jumped. “auston—”

“just hear me out,” he murmured, lips brushing that spot just beneath her ear. “we stay in. i’ll pour wine. you wear this—” he tugged lightly at the side of her dress, “or nothing at all. we’ll order takeout. i'll rub your feet. let you talk my ear off about your award. i’ll even pretend to know what any of it means.”

she was laughing, but it was breathless, her fingers curling into his lapel like she might actually give in.

“you’re ridiculous,” she whispered.

“no,” he said, trailing kisses to the corner of her mouth, “i’m so serious. you don’t know what it’s doing to me—watching you walk around like this. i’ll be good, baby. i swear. whatever you want.”

his hand slid over her thigh, just beneath the slit. heat bloomed low in her stomach.

“auston,” she warned, but it was weak, more of a sigh than anything else.

his voice dropped, a little rougher now. “say the word. i’ll lock that door and we won’t leave. not for hours.”

and she thought about it. god, she thought about it.

but just when her lips parted, just when she tilted toward him with a soft little gasp—he pulled back.

smug the same look he uses when he toys with her. as soon ashe met his grin she knew.

“nah,” he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder, “we better go. i wanna meet all your smart colleagues. see your campus. hear about how brilliant you were all those years i didn’t get to see it.”

she stared at him, flustered and flushed, trying not to smile too hard.

“you’re awful.”

“mm,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “but you like it.”

“god help me,” she muttered as she reached for her coat, “i really do.”

he took it from her hands and helped her into it, fingers lingering a moment too long on her arms, his gaze never softening.

and just before they stepped out into the hallway, he leaned in one last time.

“it’s not just anything,” he said, voice low, mouth brushing against hers, “you’re—”

he didn’t even finish it. just kissed her, slow and lingering, one hand still at her waist while the other cupped the back of her neck. her fingers curled around the lapels of his navy jacket — a deep, rich blue that complimented the black of her dress and made them look like something out of a movie.

when they pulled back, she gave him a look, that little half-smirk that always made his chest ache.

“so, you ready for the fancy ball?”

he raised a brow. “after seeing you in this? more than.”

and with one last look — reverent, almost — he offered her his hand.

“let's go i can't wait to show off my beautiful, intelligent, successful girl"

after the drive, he parks near the alumni center, quiet melodies spilling from the car speakers as they sit for a moment longer, the sun dipping just enough to cast a golden hue over the university’s buildings. when she reaches for the door, he catches her hand.

“wait,” he says, lacing their fingers. “can we—can we walk around first? i kinda wanna see it.”

she smiles, surprised. “the campus?”

“yeah.” he squeezes her hand. “i never really got… this. dorms, campus parties, lectures i’d sleep through.”

“so, you want the tour?” she teases, opening her door.

“only if the tour guide’s you.”

they wander past the stone buildings and wide lawns, the sidewalks worn from years of students racing to class. it’s quiet now, peaceful, the way only summer campuses can be. his fingers never leave hers—thumb brushing the side of her hand, pinky occasionally curling around hers tighter like he can’t help it.

it feels natural. like they’ve always been this way.

“it’s kinda pretty,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the ivy along one of the old lecture halls. “but i probably wouldn’t have fit in.”

she stops walking, looking up at him. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” he shrugs, glancing at a group of framed grad photos in the window of the humanities building. “i was on the road a lot with the program. bus to bus. rink to rink. i barely finished high school before i was flying to switzerland.”

she nudges his side gently. “i still think you would’ve been the talk of the campus.”

he raises an eyebrow, smirking. “yeah?”

“yeah.” she nods, smiling. “like, who’s that hockey player on arizona? why is he in my intro to psych class when he clearly doesn’t care? who is he dating?”

he grins. “and then they’d see me with you and wonder how ten hell i managed that?”

“exactly.”

he pulls her closer by the hand they’re still holding, steps in front of her now, slowing their pace. “well, for the record… i would’ve only gone for you.”

her breath catches, lips parting slightly.

“if we ever tried back then,” he says, voice softer now, eyes on hers, “when you weren’t with trent… i would’ve gone to college for you.”

she stares at him for a second, caught off guard by the sincerity. the weight of what he said. the way he said it—without hesitation, without shame. like there was no world in which he wouldn’t have followed her here if he’d had the chance.

“you mean that?” she asked, knowing he thought as much about their past as she did since reuniting

“i do,” he says. “i would’ve sat through any lecture, learned any dumb subject, just to meet you between classes. just to take you home after.”

she bites the inside of her cheek, heart aching with something tender and warm and unfair all at once.

they stand there for a moment longer, just them and the quiet rustle of wind in the trees above, until she reaches up and straightens the lapel of his navy suit jacket with a soft, “come on. let’s go be fancy.”

he holds the door open for her as they enter the building. but he keeps her hand in his.

he doesn’t let go.

the event hall hums with laughter and conversation, heels clicking over polished floors and the soft clink of glass. the décor is elegant but not overdone—maroon tablecloths, gold-rimmed glasses, small centerpieces of fresh-cut florals—and the moment they step in, y/n straightens up beside him, like muscle memory taking over.

“hey—” she starts, tugging his hand gently. “i should probably tell you—”

but before she can finish, a voice from across the room calls her name, warm and loud and familiar. “dr. y/l/n?”

and just like that, she’s swept away.

handshakes, hugs, inside jokes that stretch over years and years. professors who still call her “doc” with pride. a few former classmates who ask where she’s been hiding since graduation, eyes flicking briefly to auston before returning to her. she introduces him when she can—“this is auston”—but most of them just nod politely, not recognizing him.

and it’s almost a relief.

no photos, no autographs, no whispers of stats or injuries. it’s like being on another planet, one where auston gets to be just a guy at a party, holding his girl’s purse while she hugs her old program chair.

but eventually, she’s deep in conversation with a cluster of women talking about dissertation committees, so he excuses himself to the bar.

he orders them both drinks, leaning casually against the counter, glancing over his shoulder every so often to find her. that’s when someone steps up next to him.

“is that who i think it is?”

auston turns, slightly startled. the guy’s in a deep green suit, hair tousled like he didn’t try but somehow pulled it off. clean smile. confident posture.

“whoa. you’re… auston matthews, right?”

“yeah,” auston says slowly, extending a hand.

“i knew it. man, i followed your whole draft year. wild numbers. been a leafs fan since i was a kid—god help me.”

auston chuckles, relaxing a little. they slip into easy talk—line changes, summer training, the upcoming season. the guy knows his stuff, surprisingly well. auston finds himself actually enjoying it.

until the guy says, “so what brings you here? don’t tell me you've got a phd.”

auston smirks. “i’m here with my girl.”

the guy raises an eyebrow, amused. “anyone i know?”

auston opens his mouth, ready to say her name—but then, as if on cue, y/n walks up to his side.

“hey—sorry, that took forever,” she says, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“y/n,” the guy finishes with a grin, reaching out. “i was wondering when i’d see you”

auston’s brows lift, looking between them. “wait—you guys know each other?”

y/n winces like she’s taken a shot of bad tequila, smiling tightly. “unfortunately. auston… this is sebastian. sebastian, this is auston—my boyfriend.”

a beat.

the word lands in his chest like a surprise punch he didn’t see coming.

boyfriend.

he hadn’t expected it, not like that, not here. but his heart does a stupid little leap anyway. he glances at her—there’s a soft flush in her cheeks, the tiniest flicker of nerves in her eyes—and for a second, he forgets everything else.

“boyfriend, huh?” sebastian says, shaking auston’s hand now with a grin. “who knew ex would be dating auston matthews.”

auston blinks. his grip tightens slightly in the handshake.

ex?

he turns to y/n. she gives him a look. he's deluded.

“small world,” sebastian adds, sipping his drink, not even hiding the smirk that curls at the corners of his mouth.

auston pulls y/n a little closer by the waist, anchoring her beside him. “yeah,” he says, steady. “real small.”

y/n slides her fingers into his free hand, squeezing gently. when he glances at her again, she mouths, i’ll explain.

and for now, that’s enough.

because no matter who sebastian is or was, she just called auston my boyfriend in front of an ex—and that, in his book, feels like a win.

the only way y/n could describe sebastian was honestly being a pain. not in the way that kept her up at night or made her avoid rooms—but enough to make her roll her eyes whenever he popped up, like a stubborn weed in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn.

she looked up from auston's side, eyebrow cocked. “excuse me? i am not your ex.”

he laughed, low and easy. “come on, we were exclusively sleeping together. that counts for something.”

she snorted, shaking her head. “once or twice. and frankly, it wasn’t memorable. considering how short you lasted.”

he shot her a mock offended look, but the spark in his eyes told her this was his favourite game.

“you always were the star pupil, head of the class,” he teased, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. “i was just the jealous sidekick.”

she bit back a smile. “keep telling yourself that, sebastian.”

sebastian’s eyes flicked between the two of them, that familiar smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth like he was gearing up for something clever.

“so this is the new guy?” he asked, voice dipped in condescension. "who knew your type was jocks?”

auston didn’t flinch. he stood still, straight-backed in his navy suit, the kind of posture that spoke more than words ever could. his hand didn’t move from where it lightly rested on the small of y/n’s back, just enough to be steadying, but far from possessive. showing how much he needed to hold her.

y/n felt it — that slight shift in pressure, the way his fingertips subtly grazed over the fabric of her dress like a silent anchor. she leaned ever so slightly into him, her weight natural against his side, the motion unnoticeable to anyone but the three of them.

“that’s me,” auston said evenly, his tone pleasant. “didn’t expect to run into a fan here.”

sebastian blinked, caught off guard. “a fan?”

“didn't you just say you were a huge leafs fan your whole life?" auston said smoothly, offering a half-smile as he handed y/n the drink he’d gone to get her, his eyes not quite leaving sebastian.

"i wouldn't say huge" he scrambles to recover himself. his eye twitched clearly irritated at the couple infront of him

“so, you two go way back?” auston asked casually, though the meaning simmered beneath.

y/n answered before sebastian could puff his chest. “nope. not at all.”

“huh.” auston looked down at her with something like affection warming his expression. “shame. seems like he remembers it more than you do.”

she smirked, lifting her glass to her lips. “must’ve made a bigger impression on himself.”

“probably why he’s still talking about it,” auston added under his breath, but just loud enough.

sebastian huffed out something like a laugh, clearly irritated. “well, if you ever want to catch up, y/n—”

“i think i’m all caught up,” she said simply, her gaze cool.

auston didn’t say anything else. he didn’t have to. his presence beside her was grounded and still, like a line had been drawn with a single quiet gesture. his thumb brushed once, lightly, against her back. a private motion.

and she leaned into him again, her heel just grazing his shoe, eyes never leaving sebastian.

whatever game sebastian had in mind, it was over before it started.

once sebastian finally slinked off — with a muttered goodbye and a smug little nod — auston guided y/n toward their assigned table, his hand warm and steady on the small of her back. he didn’t say anything right away, just pulled her chair out gently, lingering for a moment as she sat.

he took the seat beside her, not across. close enough their arms brushed when he shifted. he spread his legs a bit wider than necessary, his thigh angled toward hers, and her heel, completely on instinct, landed against the inside of his calf. when she crossed her legs, the point of her heel slowly dragged up his leg.

he tilted his head slightly, glancing down at her with that familiar, knowing grin.

“boyfriend, huh?” his voice was low, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and wrapped in amusement.

she didn’t look at him right away, just took a sip of her drink and smirked behind the rim. “figured it’d get the point across.”

he hummed. “were you just saying that or is that what you want me to be?”

her lips twitched as she finally turned to him, eyes gleaming under the soft lighting. “i figured we were dating,” she murmured, her fingers reaching out to smooth the front of his tie, the movement slow and teasing. “but i was waiting for you to ask, matthews.”

he chuckled under his breath, watching her closely. “you were gonna make me ask?”

“of course,” she said, smug now. “you think i’d just give you the title without a little effort?”

“i take care of you everyday and make sure you're fed and caffeinated,” he whispered, eyes dark as he leaned in. “that counts as effort.”

her laugh was soft but warm, and her heel continued its lazy trail up his calf. “so dramatic.”

“i’m serious,” he murmured, his hand brushing against the curve of her knee under the table. “i like taking you out. more than that.”

she tilted her head, giving him that look — the one that always made him lean in without realizing it. “you like being mine?”

“i do.” he met her gaze, sincere beneath all the teasing. “don’t really care what we call it, as long as it’s us.”

her heel paused for a second, then moved again, slower this time. “you liked hearing it though, didn’t you?” she asked, voice quiet but knowing.

he glanced down to where her hand still played with his tie. “yeah,” he said, honest, soft. “i really did.”

his hand drifted under the table, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing along the slit of her dress, settling against the bare skin of her thigh. his thumb traced idle circles there, warmth pooling beneath his touch, and it made her breath catch just slightly.

“you’re gonna have to act surprised,” he murmured, voice low and meant only for her. his eyes stayed on hers, like the room had gone quiet just for them. “when i take you out to dinner sunday.”

she blinked, her brows pinching playfully. “why?”

he leaned in closer, his thumb still tracing along her skin. “because i was gonna ask you then to be my girlfriend then.”

she blinked again — the good kind of stunned — and then a grin split across her face so fast it made him laugh.

“you were gonna make a whole thing out of it,” she said, her tone delighted, her knee bumping his under the table. “did you already tell the restaurant?”

he nodded, trying not to look too pleased with himself. “i told them it was kind of a special occasion and asked for their most expensive bottle.”

she bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide, but it didn’t work. “you’re so sneaky.”

he smirked, squeezing her thigh gently. “and now you’ve ruined the whole surprise with your 'this is my sexy athletic rich boyfriend’ moment.”

"shut up" she laughed while lightly nudged his chest. he remained in her orbit. “that was necessary. i had to put your little fanboy in his place.” she leaned in, chin lifted defiantly, “

“who that guy?” auston scoffed under his breath. “he’s never recovering from not getting the best of you. can't say i'm complaining"

she leaned in again, just until her lips were at the corner of his jaw. "fine. i guess i'll act surprised sunday. wouldn't want to ruin your surprise”

he turned to face her, their noses nearly brushing. “yeah,” he said. “you better practice your acting skills, baby.”

they didn’t have long to dwell in their quiet bubble. moments later, the lights dimmed and the gentle clink of silverware settled into silence. auston leaned back in his seat, his fingers brushing against hers under the table.

“this the part where you get the nobel peace prize” he murmured, teasing, but soft with something heavier underneath.

she smiled, shaking her head like it wasn’t much. “just a little recognition. it’s not a big deal.”

he gave her a look — like he didn’t quite believe her, but let it go for now.

then the host took the stage, and as soon as her name was spoken — full name, said with purpose — a quiet hush of pride washed through the room. applause started small, then swelled as the announcer listed out the sheer scope of her involvement: lead organizer, community outreach, long-standing volunteer, mentorship programs, scholarship initiatives — things auston hadn’t even heard her mention once.

he sat a little straighter, his brow furrowed, glancing over at her as she stood, smoothing the front of her dress.

she didn’t look nervous. she looked radiant.

he clapped, of course he clapped, but his hands slowed for a moment when he noticed how many others were already on their feet. people were nodding, smiling with real warmth as she walked toward the stage. and one by one, they greeted her — a few shook her hand with reverence, others wrapped her in hugs that spoke of years of admiration and pride. she hugged them back just as tightly, her grin wide and uncontained, and for a second auston felt like he was seeing her through someone else’s eyes.

he always knew she was special. he always knew she worked hard and cared deeply and poured herself into everything she touched. but this — this was different.

this was everyone else knowing it too.

he lifted his phone to record her as she accepted the plaque, smiling with something soft and stunned behind the camera. she wasn’t just some girlfriend people whispered about being with him. she was the kind of person they whispered about with awe — “that’s her,” they’d say. “she hosts the annual adoption fundraisers with the arizona humane society.”

as she walked off stage, a younger volunteer stopped her mid-aisle with wide eyes, thanking her, hugging her. then another. and then an older woman approached her a proud gleam in hers, clasping her hands between both of hers. auston couldn’t hear what they said, but the way y/n’s eyes shimmered a little said enough.

when she returned to their table — cheeks flushed and smile still stretched wide — auston didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at her, the corners of his mouth pulling into something small and in awe.

“what?” she asked, slightly breathless, tucking her hair behind her ear.

he leaned in again, like he couldn’t not. “you’re incredible,” he murmured.

she blinked, taken aback for a beat, then softened. “you’re just saying that because of the plaque.”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i mean it. i knew you were amazing, but…”his voice dropped a little, eyes lingering on her face. “you’re kind of a big deal, huh?”

her cheeks flushed deeper, laughing shyly. “stop.”

he smiled. “never.” then, quieter — more to himself — “i’m so proud of you.”

and when she reached under the table, slipping her hand into his again, he squeezed it gently. he didn’t let go for the rest of the night.

the ballroom lights dimmed just slightly, the music shifting to something slower, something with a sultry beat that settled like smoke over the room. the clinking of glasses faded beneath the low thrum of the bass, voices dipping into whispers, laughter softening into murmurs.

auston held out his hand, and without hesitation, she took it.

they moved onto the dance floor with practiced ease, even if they'd never done this before — it felt instinctive, the way her body slid against his as he pulled her close, one arm around her waist, the other clasping her hand against his chest. the slit in her dress parted with each step, revealing more of her thigh than the room probably warranted, but auston didn’t seem to mind.

in fact, his eyes dropped to the exposed skin, then flicked back up, darker now. heavier.

“you know this dress is criminal,” he murmured, his voice brushing against her temple. “you’re lucky i've been on my best behaviour.”

she let out a quiet laugh, letting her head fall back slightly as she swayed with him. “this is your best behaviour?”

he leaned in just enough so only she could hear. “not even close,” his hand slid lower on her back, “all i can think of is how i’m gonna take you home. make good on everything i’ve been thinking about since you opened that damn door.”

she tilted her chin, lips brushing along the edge of his jaw. “like what?”

his hand squeezed at her hip, drawing her tighter into him. “like the way you looked when you walked out of that bathroom. had me speechless. almost canceled the night right then.”

“mm,” she hummed, fingers idly adjusting his tie. “you were supposed to play it cool.”

“i’ve never been good at that with you.” his lips brushed her cheekbone, breath warm and measured. “every time you move, this dress shifts and i get another inch of thigh. it’s not fair.”

“good,” she said, teasing, her heel dragging gently up his calf again. “you deserve to suffer a little.”

he let out a quiet groan and pressed his forehead to hers. “keep doing that and your boyfriend’s gonna lose his last thread of self-control.”

she smiled, soft but dangerous. “then maybe my boyfriend should take me home.”

his head lifted, eyes narrowing slightly. “yeah?”

she nodded once, eyes full of promise. “and make good on those promises.”

he stepped back just enough to grab her hand again, no hesitation this time.

“then let’s get the hell out of here.”

the car ride felt endless.

every red light, every turn, every slow driver in front of them — it all stretched out the ache between them, taut and pulsing, like a cord wound tight enough to snap. her hand had rested on his thigh the entire time, fingers drifting just enough to drive him half-mad, and every time he glanced at her, her eyes sparkled with knowing.

by the time they reached his house, the tension had twisted into something unbearable.

auston barely managed to park before he was out of the driver’s seat and around the car. she stepped out and he caught her by the waist, pressing her back against the door before it even closed, his mouth on hers in seconds. she gasped softly against him as he kissed her like he was starving — like that slow dance and the way she’d whispered my boyfriend should take me home had been a challenge, not a request.

her hands slid up his chest, over the lapels of his suit jacket, as he reached behind blindly, fumbling with the lock before the door gave with a soft click.

they stumbled inside, barely breaking the kiss, lips brushing between breathless laughs and hushed exhales. her back hit the inside of the front door with a gentle thud, and he kissed down her neck, his hands bracketing her waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of the slit in her dress.

“auston—” she started, voice a little breathless, her fingers gripping his jacket lapels again, “where’s your family?”

he paused just enough to look up at her, forehead resting against hers.

“at my sister’s,” he murmured, lips brushing hers between words. “they’re staying over. hiking in the morning.”

she let out a relieved laugh — short and sweet — before pulling him back into her with a quiet, eager noise. “perfect.”

he didn’t waste a second. his lips found hers again, deep and slow, and the heat between them roared back to life. he let his hands wander this time — dragging up her sides, sliding beneath the open drape of her dress at her back, fingers tracing the delicate lace-up ribbon there.

“you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he said against her mouth, “this dress, those heels...”

“you’re not doing so bad yourself, matthews,” she whispered, tugging at his tie just enough to loosen it, sliding her hand beneath the collar. “looking like a navy-blue sin.”

he groaned, pulling her off the door just enough to spin them around, walking her backward down the hallway — each kiss a little more urgent, a little more desperate.

her heels clicked softly against the floor, echoing with each step he took toward his room.

“was the drive long for you too?” he asked, lips brushing over her cheek, down her jaw, as they moved.

“agonizing,” she replied, her hand on the back of his neck now. “i almost told you to pull over.”

he let out a low laugh, nipping at her earlobe. “don’t tempt me. next time, i will.”

her back hit the doorframe of his bedroom and she smiled, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, hair slightly out of place from all his hands. beautiful, he thought — not just from the dress, not just from the night — just her, here, like this, with him.

“you know,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth, “you really were the smartest person in the room tonight.”

she kissed him once, slowly. “and yet somehow... still not smart enough to keep my hands off you.”

he pulled her into the room, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them off from the world.

“good,” he breathed, eyes dark. “because you’re not gonna need to.”

his voice was low, rough, barely a whisper against her lips, and it sent a sharp thrill through her. he didn’t give her time to reply — his mouth found hers again, deep and possessive, like he’d been waiting to say that all night.

she smiled into the kiss, fingers already working to undo the of his shirt, pulling it free from his pants as she walked him backward toward the bed.

“been waiting to get you out of this all night,” she murmured against his jaw, lips trailing down to his throat, “you look so good in blue.”

he let out a low groan, tipping his head back as her teeth grazed his skin.

“you’ve got a mouth on you tonight,” he muttered, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her dress, fingers ghosting up her thighs, “think i should do something about it.”

“you should,” she whispered, dragging her tongue along the shell of his ear, “but you won’t. you love when i get like this.”

he laughed, a deep sound in his chest that made her stomach flip.

“yeah,” he said, lips grazing her collarbone now, “i really do.”

she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. her fingers tangled in the loosened tie still hanging around his neck.

“i can't believe you were gonna make me wait until the weekend ,” she said softly, tugging the tie just enough to bring him close again, “to ask me to be your girlfriend”

he nodded, eyes dark. “was gonna take you somewhere nice. make you blush. order wine. pretend i’m not dying to drag you home the whole time.”

“so romantic,” she teased, grin wicked.

he leaned in, his lips brushing just below her ear now. “i was gonna get you flowers. tell you how crazy you make me feel.”

“mm.” she curled her fingers around his neck. “you could’ve just said that tonight, saved me from being on the edge of my seat all the time.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he breathed. “besides, watching you in that dress tonight... torture. the good kind.”

“you like it?”

he pulled back just enough to look at her — really look — the dim light catching the soft sheen of her skin, the way the chiffon skirt clung to her hips, the way the slit revealed just enough leg to haunt him forever.

“you know i do.” he ran his hand up her thigh, slow and purposeful. “you wore this for me?”

she nodded, lips barely parted. “told you. wanted to see if you’d behave. this is your reward.”

his hand slid higher. “you already know the answer to that.”

she gasped as his fingers reached the apex of her thigh, just brushing against the thin lace beneath.

“auston...”

“yeah?” he whispered, mouth brushing her neck again. “say it.”

“want you to touch me,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “want you to tell me all the things you were thinking about during that stupid drive home.”

he hummed low in his throat. “i was thinking about this,” he said, hand sliding beneath the lace. “how warm you’d feel. how wet.”

she whimpered, fingers clutching his shirt. “i was thinking about it too. how good you looked at that bar. how smug you were when you said i was your girl.”

“you are.” his lips were right at her ear now. “mine. and i’ve barely started showing you what that means.”

“then start,” she whispered, pulling him closer, the heat between them nearly unbearable. “please.”

his eyes darkened as he scooped her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist again as he carried her the rest of the way to the bed.

“say it again,” he murmured, easing her down onto the mattress. “say please.”

she looked up at him, lips parted, breath shallow, and smiled.

“please, auston.”

he leaned down, brushing his mouth over her collarbone, over the hollow of her throat.

“good girl.”

the words rumbled against her throat like a promise, low and deliberate, and she exhaled a quiet whimper, arching slightly beneath him.

his mouth found hers again, slower this time, more purposeful. she could feel the heat rolling off him, the restraint he was just barely holding on to as his hands wandered her body, like he was learning her all over again.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured, one hand sweeping her leg aside so he could settle between her thighs, the split of her dress falling away like water.

“yeah?” she whispered, chasing his mouth. “how long?”

“since you walked into the room that day at the clinc,” he said, lips brushing hers between every word, “since you looked up at me like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“i did,” she confessed breathlessly, fingers tugging his tie free and tossing it to the side. “i wanted you to lose your mind.”

he chuckled darkly, pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, revealing the sheer edge of her lace bra. his mouth followed the path of his fingers.

"you wear this for me?" his mouth watered as he traced the lace of her lingerie. the same shade of her discarded gown.

"of course. only for you" she managed at the trace of his hands

“congrats,” he muttered against her skin, “you got what you wanted.”

“not yet, i didn’t.”

“mm,” he hummed, dragging his lips lower, fingers brushing along her ribs. “you’re greedy tonight.”

“i want all of you,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair, voice thinner now, needier. “not just the way you kiss me. not just the way you look at me like you could ruin me.”

he stilled at that. just for a moment. then his eyes lifted to hers. dark, weighted, molten.

“i don’t want to ruin you,” he said quietly. “i want to worship you.”

she swore she forgot how to breathe.

but he didn’t let her linger in it — his mouth was already sliding down her sternum, his hands lifting her skirt until it bunched around her hips, baring her completely. his voice came again, low, heavy, right against the inside of her thigh

“tell me what you need.”

her hips lifted subtly, instinctively. “you.”

“where?” he asked, thumb brushing the edge of her lace.

“everywhere,” she whispered, flushed and gasping as he kissed the inside of her knee.

“you don’t make it easy to behave.”

“i don’t want you to.”

he hooked her underwear with slow, deliberate fingers, drawing it down her legs, dragging his mouth across her thigh until she was trembling beneath him.

“look at you,” he murmured, spreading her legs just enough so he could press a kiss to her inner thigh. “laid out like this for me, all soft and sweet.”

“auston—”

“shh, baby.” his hand came up, holding her hip gently as his lips dipped lower. “you’ll get what you want.”

and she did.

she got every breathless stroke of his tongue, every low groan against her that vibrated through her spine. her hand gripped the sheets, the other buried in his hair, tugging him closer as he worked her open with slow, perfect focus. he whispered her name like a vow between strokes, like a man devout in worship.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice rough and full of pride, “just like that. taste so good. been thinking about you like this since the second you looked at me in that damn dress.”

she bucked beneath him, overwhelmed, thighs trembling against the pressure of his shoulders — but he didn’t ease up. he held her there, firm and focused, dragging her to the edge with quiet praise and relentless need.

when she came, it was with a stifled whimper into her hand, his name falling from her lips like it meant something sacred.

but he didn’t stop.

“auston—”

he crawled up her body, mouth slick and grin lazy. his weight pressed her into the mattress just enough to make her feel it — the full brunt of what they'd just done — and she melted beneath him, arms wrapping around his shoulders like instinct.

he reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a condom packet. her eyes narrowed at the familiar red packaging.

“someone was presumptuous,” she teased, fingertips trailing down his back, nails light and slow. “is that a costco value-pack?”

he raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "there’s this girl i’m seeing. can’t get her out of my head. figured she might finally let me have her.”

"now," he brought the packet to her lips, hovering with a grin. “rip it open for me, baby.”

she bit the corner, smiling around it as she tore it clean, handing it back. “smooth.”

“told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her mouth like he hadn’t just wrecked her. “not done with you.”

“you weren’t kidding,” she breathed, hands already at his belt, fingers trembling slightly.

“never am when it comes to you.”

she paused, fingers brushing his waistband. “just—before we do this... it’s been a long time. for me.”

he stilled, eyes softening. “me too.”

her brow furrowed, just a little. “really?"

he chuckled, low and warm. “not since earlier this year. and never like this.”

her tension eased. something settled.

he kissed her again, deeper now, as she freed him from his pants, their hands moving with shared urgency — kisses messy, laughter hushed between breathless curses. when her hand closed around him, he let out a guttural groan, hips twitching into her palm.

“fuck,” he whispered into her mouth. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“then die happy,” she murmured, wrapping her legs around his waist as he eased into her, slow and careful, stretching her inch by inch.

her breath caught, face buried in his neck. “you feel—god, auston—”

“you’re mine,” he growled, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made the headboard groan. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” she gasped, arms tight around him. “only yours.”

she cried out when he drove into her again, head falling back.

“shit,” she whimpered, nails sinking into his skin. “auston—”

he froze instantly, a hand running down her spine. “too much?”

her breath came ragged. “you’re just—jesus—you’re really…”

“big?” he offered, smirking despite the restraint in his eyes.

a breathless laugh escaped her. “what does the team feed you?”

he chuckled, brushing damp strands from her forehead. “just protein shakes and the fear of god.”

“this should be illegal,” she muttered, clinging tighter.

“want me to stop?”

she groaned. “no. just—i need a second.”

he kissed her forehead gently. “you wanna try something else?”

“like what?” she asked into his chest.

he grinned, slow and smug, and flipped them carefully, settling against the headboard with her in his lap.

“you on top,” he murmured. “your pace. i just watch.”

her legs tightened around him, something hot and electric in her eyes. “just watch?”

“or help,” he grinned, voice thick. “whatever you need.”

“you’re insane,” she whispered, lowering herself onto him again — slower this time, her breath shaking with every inch.

his jaw flexed. “yeah. for you.”

she moaned, soft and low, as he filled her again, and the stretch left her dizzy. but the way he held her steady, murmuring encouragement against her skin, made it easier to breathe.

“god, you’re thick,” she whispered.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“it’s not,” she gasped, starting to move. “but you better buy me a smoothie tomorrow. i won’t be able to walk.”

his eyes darkened as he watched her ride him, breath catching with every roll of her hips. “i’ll buy you a smoothie. i’ll buy you the damn blender.”

“good,” she whispered, tugging his hair as she kissed him, hungry and slow.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned. “you’re killing me.”

“you can handle it,” she teased. “big, strong hockey player like you?”

“smartass,” he growled, gripping her hips and grinding her down hard enough to make her cry out. “ride me like you mean it.”

they chased each other like that — hips rocking, mouths hungry, hands greedy — until everything else blurred and only they remained.

“baby—fuck—wait—” his voice cracked near her ear, arms tightening.

she froze, breathless. “what is it?”

“no, just—” he kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth. “wait for me.”

her brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

his forehead pressed to hers, voice breaking. “when i go back… when summer ends. i don’t know how i’m gonna do it, but i need to know you’ll wait.”

she went still, chest rising and falling against his.

“auston,” she whispered. “i didn’t think we were talking about that yet.”

“i know. but you’re it for me. i don’t care how long it’s been — it’s you. and if i leave not knowing you’re mine…”

she cupped his face, eyes shining. “you’ve been mine since the first time you made my niece like you more than me.”

a soft laugh escaped him. “so you’ll wait?”

“i’ll wait,” she nodded. “as long as you promise you’ll come back.”

his kiss was slow, deep. “i always come back to you.”

and then there were no more words.

just hands and breath and the soft sound of her name against his lips as they fell apart together — his arms tight around her, her mouth warm on his neck, the sheets tangled beneath them like a promise.

they froze there, tangled in each other beneath the covers, breath still uneven, he held her tighter than he ever had before.

she laid collapsed against his chest, shaking and spent, all he could do was kiss her temple and whisper, “you feel like home.”

and so did he.

the morning sun spilled lazily through the windows, casting soft light over the tangled sheets and still bodies. his arms were still around her — one underneath her, curled under her ribcage, and the other draped across her stomach like instinct.

she blinked awake slowly, her face still pressed into his chest. his heartbeat was steady, slow. she felt his breath on her forehead, and her nose scrunched as it tickled.

“you’re awake,” she mumbled, voice raspy.

“and you drool,” he replied sleepily, voice still husky from sleep.

“you're lying,” she grinned, not bothering to move, nuzzling further in instead.

his chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “if you say so, baby.”

they laid there for a while, bare and content and quiet. then his hand slid down her back, and he stretched beneath her.

“stay here,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “i’ll make breakfast.”

“you?” she peeked up, suspicious. “you know how to do that?”

“have a little faith.” he smirked, carefully untangling from her. “you’ll see.”

she rolled onto her back and winced slightly.

he caught it immediately.

“sore?” he asked, a little too smug.

“shut up,” she groaned, covering her eyes.

“you’re welcome.”

she threw a pillow at him as he laughed his way down the hall, wearing nothing but boxers and yesterday’s grin. she eventually got up, tugging on the closest things she could find — his oversized leafs tee and the pair of sweats he left draped over her chair sometime this week.

he heard her before he saw her — the subtle creak of the stairs, the lazy scrape of her heel against the floor. morning light stretched in long ribbons across the kitchen tiles, and the scent of coffee still lingered faintly in the air from when he’d brewed it earlier just the way she liked it. he didn’t expect her to be awake yet, not after the night they’d had. his muscles still ached in the best way, a quiet reminder of just how close they’d been only hours ago.

but then she stepped into the doorway, and his whole world tilted.

she was wearing one of his team shirts — not one he usually wore around her, not even one he thought she’d ever noticed. it was older, slightly faded, vintage navy with the classic crest stretched gently across her chest, and it hung off her like it was made for her.

the fabric slipped off one shoulder, revealing warm skin and the soft slope of her collarbone. it fell just far enough to cover her, but not enough to be decent, not when paired with the loose grey sweats she’d tugged halfway up her hips. her hair was pulled into a knot on her hair, and she looked like everything he didn’t know he’d missed.

he froze with the spatula in his hand, halfway through flipping her eggs.

she blinked up at him sleepily. “what?”

he couldn’t answer. his mouth opened slightly, then closed again, and all he could do was stare. not in a crude way, not even in an overly awestruck way — just... completely undone. there was something about her like this that unraveled him, something quieter than desire but just as intense. maybe it was the way she moved so effortlessly through his space, like she belonged there. maybe it was the shirt — how natural it looked on her, how wrong it felt that he’d never seen her in it before. he’d spent so many mornings with her, but this one felt different. deeper. familiar in the way that made his chest ache.

“that shirt,” he said, voice low, finally finding the words. “i’ve never seen you wear that one.”

she glanced down, tugged the hem idly. “this? found it buried in the back of your closet last night.”

he let out a soft laugh, more breath than sound. “you look... fuck. don’t take it off unless i do it for you”

she rolled her eyes and padded over to pour herself some coffee. he tried to act normal after that, focused on their breakfast, but his eyes kept drifting back to her — to the slope of her legs, to the way the shirt swayed with every movement. she didn’t even notice the effect she had on him. or maybe she did. she always did.

they sat together at the island, knees brushing beneath the counter, the air filled with the clink of cutlery and quiet conversation. she sipped her coffee with that familiar hum of contentment, and he watched her through the corner of his eye, just happy to be near her like this again. something about mornings with her felt more intimate than anything they did at night — like every shared bite, every sleepy smile, was another reason he wanted her forever.

after they finished eating, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh and started to push herself up.

“i should clean up,” she mumbled, moving to stand.

he didn’t let her.

“nope,” he said, voice low as he came around behind her.

“no?” she asked, glancing up at him.

before she could say anything else, his hands were curling around her thighs and, with one effortless motion, he lifted her clean off the chair.

“what are you—”

she gasped, instinctively clinging to his shoulders as laughter spilled out of her.

“you’re insane!” she giggled, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“you’re obviously still sore,” he murmured against her skin, lips brushing the edge of her jaw. “i’m carrying you back to bed.”

“this is your excuse to manhandle me.”

“you caught.”

“i’m not complaining.”

he smiled, the kind that made her stomach twist, and pressed a kiss just below her ear as he walked them slowly down the hall. her laughter trailed behind them, light and breathless, legs swinging lazily with each step. the hem of her shirt — his shirt — crept higher with every movement, and he didn’t even bother pretending not to notice.

when they reached the bedroom, he kicked the door open with his foot and laid her down gently, like she was something breakable. she landed on the bed with a soft sigh, hair fanned out across the pillow, looking up at him with that lazy smile he couldn’t get enough of.

her fingers reached for him, drawing him down without a word.

“i’d wait forever for you.”

her breath caught, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep in her chest. she was reminded of his promises last night, coming to light. the realization dawned on her how serious he was to make it work.

she blinked up at him, eyes softer now, lips parting like she might say something — but didn’t. instead, she reached for his hand, fingers finding his like they belonged there, like they always had.

he didn’t look away.

neither did she.

and in the quiet between them, something shifted. not in a loud, crashing way — but in the way her body relaxed against the sheets, in the way he leaned closer like it was instinct, in the way their joined hands stayed between them, steady and sure.

he wasn’t just someone she would miss anymore at the end of summer.

he was someone she had.

someone who knew her laugh, her silences, the way she pulled her sleeves over her hands when she got nervous. someone who made space for her without asking her to shrink.

he’d already seen the most vulnerable parts of her — and he hadn’t run.

that meant more to her than anything else in the world.

next

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

luke is never beating the nathan scott allegations i fear

[m34tthews]

a hughes brother summer

[m34tthews]

he is the view

[m34tthews]

daises is so y/n auston core when they have to do long distance after spending every walking second together this summer

[m34tthews]

swede summer 💙💛

[m34tthews]

thank you to everyone feeding my delusions that this is another life coded

auston’s off season with friends and family

[m34tthews]

auston’s off season with friends and family

[m34tthews]

felix isn’t the only one barking

[m34tthews]

STOPPP YOU’RE TOO SWEET 😭🩵

CHAPTER SIX

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 9k

warnings — minors dni. sexual content

an — someone play its getting hotin here by nella

masterlist

she woke slowly.

the kind of slow that came with dry mouth, a dull throb behind her eyes, and the unmistakable ache of alcohol still dragging itself through her bloodstream.

it was too bright in the room. too warm under the duvet. and the shirt she wore—his shirt—was pooled around her waist, exposing the bare skin of her hip to the morning air.

for a moment, she kept her eyes closed, face half buried in the pillow that smelled like him.

but then she shifted, winced, and sat up with a groan.

on the nightstand: a tall glass of water with beads of condensation. a pair of ibuprofen. and a folded note in familiar handwriting.

had to hit go to gym. the guys wouldn’t take no for an answer. take the medicine and water for your inevitable hangover i'll be right back — A

she huffed a laugh, soft and grateful, and swallowed the pills.

the embarrassment hit about five minutes later—after brushing her teeth, after washing her face, after remembering how boldly she’d pulled him down on top of her the night before, hands all over him, kissing like she was starving. her whole body turned hot as the memory filled her like steam in the shower.

god, she thought. what was i doing.

she got dressed slowly, choosing comfort over anything remotely revealing. loose drawstring shorts, a soft ribbed tank. her hair still damp, her cheeks still pink, she padded down the hall and made her way to the kitchen.

the house buzzed in a lazy kind of way. someone was playing music low on a speaker. the scent of eggs and maple and freshly brewed coffee curled in the air. and when she turned the corner, she saw steph seated at the island, chatting animatedly with two other women she didn’t know well yet.

“morning,” y/n murmured, trying not to squint too obviously at the light.

steph lit up. “hey! the party girl’s alive.”

y/n laughed weakly, sliding onto a stool as someone handed her a glass of iced coffee. “barely.”

“mitch said you and auston disappeared early.” she lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

“i think i was just—tired,” she said, picking at the edge of her cup. “and very… drunk.”

the girls laughed, light and easy, and for a while they just talked—passing plates, debating who actually made the best pancakes on the team. and then the conversation shifted, like it always did, back to hockey. to the guys. to the life.

“so… how are you feeling dating the most desirable professional athlete in toronto?” one of them asked casually, reaching for the butter.

y/n blinked. “oh—um.”

“you are dating auston, right?” steph asked, eyebrows raised with a grin.

y/n blushed, hiding her face behind her mug. “not yet.”

steph’s grin widened. “okay. yet. i’m holding onto that.”

the kitchen filled with a soft chorus of teasing oohs, and y/n smiled, even through the heat prickling her cheeks.

when the chaos finally subsided, she seized the opportunity to ask steph a question that had been haunting her daily. although they had only known each other briefly, there was something about steph that made people feel comfortable around her.

"how do you do it?" she didn't have to elaborate, steph's eyes softened as the question lingered between them,

steph straightened up a little, spinning her spoon in her coffee. “look, with mitch—we’ve known each other since we were kids, so i grew up around this life. it’s familiar. but even then… nothing really prepares you for the travel. or the pressure. or the long roadies where they’re in another time zone and all you want is to feel close.”

y/n nodded quietly, the words sinking in.

“i have zeus and now our son miles,” steph added with a shrug. “which helps. he cuddles with me and hogs the bed and keeps me company when mitch is gone for eight days. but honestly? the hard days are worth it. when he comes home, when we’re together—it reminds me why we make it work.”

y/n smiled softly. “that sounds nice.”

and she meant it. she really did.

but somewhere in the space between the kitchen laughter and the ache in her temples, the doubt bloomed again. she thought about auston in the gym. about his routine. about the world he lived in—high-intensity, high-profile, high-stakes.

and her?

her life was quieter. rooted. arizona felt like home because it was home. it was her clinic, her morning walks to get her daily cofee, her family. it wasn’t toronto. it wasn’t games and cameras and long stretches apart.

what would it even look like, she wondered, to try and belong in his world.

the conversation shifted again—back to stories about away games and travel mishaps—and y/n listened, laughing where she could, smiling where it felt right. but a part of her drifted. just a little. somewhere far from the countertop and the coffee.

and then, just as she reached for her second piece of toast, she felt it.

a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind.

auston—still damp from his shower, still warm, still very much her safe place—nuzzled into her neck, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear causing her to shiver in reponse.

“you survived,” he murmured against her skin.

“barely,” she replied, turning slightly to look up at him.

he smiled. tired, but real.

he kissed her cheek, lingering, and she didn’t miss the way the other girls looked at each other, stifling their collective swoon.

“what’d i miss?” he asked the table, still standing behind her, still holding her like it was second nature.

“just talking about how y/n’s not yet dating you,” steph teased.

auston looked down at her, his smile widening. “not yet, hmm?”

y/n groaned, sinking lower in her seat. “you’re all the worst.”

but when he kissed her again, this time right on the temple, she didn’t pull away.

not even a little.

because maybe she didn’t know what this was supposed to look like. maybe the miles between them were real. and maybe she was still figuring out if her life could ever fit into his.

but in that moment—surrounded by his people, his world, his warmth—she didn’t feel so far away.

his arms wrap tighter around her middle the second he notices the way she tenses under the attention, her smile dimmer now that everyone’s watching.

“you’re shy this morning,” he murmurs into her hair, grinning. “don’t tell me i have to carry you back upstairs so you can keep hiding in my bed.”

her breath hitches, quiet but audible. she leans her head back just enough to glance at him, and god—she looks wrecked in the prettiest way. sleepy and soft, hair still damp from her quick rinse, cheeks flushed from either the heat or the memory of everything she’d done the night before.

auston doesn’t miss it. doesn’t want to.

he presses a kiss to the crown of her head and drops his voice, teasing but low enough for only her to hear.

“you know,” he murmurs, “for someone who was dragging me on top of her last night, you’re awfully shy in the daylight.”

she elbows him gently in the ribs, but she’s smiling, biting down on it like she’s trying not to laugh.

“i guess you got lucky, didn’t you,” she whispers back. obviously joking.

he chuckles, the sound deep and easy in her ear. “i’m lucky? i had to handle my problem after you slept”

he shifts just slightly behind her, enough to lean in again, brushing his mouth against the curve of her jaw. her skin tastes like toothpaste and sleep and something sweet from breakfast, and he lingers there a second too long.

“baby, if you knew the kind of things i want to do to you,” he breathes, “you’d never stop blushing.”

she stiffens a little, pulse fluttering just beneath her collarbone. he sees the way her hand tightens around her iced coffee. how she’s trying not to melt into him.

“that so?” she says, not quite steady.

he smiles, pleased.

“mhm,” he hums, eyes flicking over her shoulder toward steph and the other girls, who are absolutely pretending not to eavesdrop. “but you’ll have to be good if you wanna find out.”

she turns her head, meeting his eyes with a look that’s part challenge, part barely-contained laughter. “and if i’m not?”

he grins, teeth flashing. “then i guess i’ll have to show you how good i can be instead.”

there’s a pause—her lips parted, her eyes wide—but then steph clears her throat loudly and calls out, “hey! save that for later, loverboy.”

auston laughs, backing off just enough to pluck the edge of her shirt where it’s tucked in lazily at the back.

“just reminding her who took care of her drunk ass last night,” he says, tossing a wink in her direction.

y/n rolls her eyes, face still pink. “you really want credit for pouring me water and tucking me in?”

“i want credit for not cutting you off at one sangria ,” he says, only loud enough for her.

she rolled her eyes at him before standing as he grabbed his plate and led her to the patio.

he sunk into one of the cushioned chairs with his breakfast on his lap and felix sprawled out beside him, snoring.

he grins when he sees her.

“despite last night, you still look irressitable,” he teases, eyes trailing over her like he’s already memorized how she looks in his tank and cotton shorts. “you sleep okay?”

“once the room stopped spinning,” she mutters, squinting at the sun. “i can’t believe you made me drink that much sangria.”

he snorts. “you made you drink that much sangria.”

“whatever.” she walks over and plops herself into his lap without asking, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you didn’t stop me.”

“i never do,” he says, smiling as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i like you loud and clingy.”

“so basically i embarrassed myself all night,” she groans.

“you were perfect all night.”

he nudges her closer and rests his chin on her shoulder as he cuts into his eggs with one hand. “you want some?”

“no thanks,” she murmurs, letting her legs dangle over his, the sun warming her skin, his arms surrounding her. “this is nice.”

he hums. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she says, and it’s quiet for a minute. the kind of quiet that feels good. settled. “thanks for inviting me.”

he sets the fork down.

“we’re way past that,” he says into her neck, the words steady and sure. “i want you anywhere i am.”

her heart thuds a little harder.

she leans back just enough to catch his gaze, chewing on her lip before asking softly, “even in toronto?”

he doesn’t even blink. “especially toronto.”

she stares at him, surprised by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how certain he sounds.

he shrugs like it’s nothing. like it’s obvious.

“i know it’s not that simple,” he adds, pulling her hand into his lap to play with her fingers, “but if it ever was simple—yeah. i’d want you there.”

her voice is a little small when she says, “you’d really want me around that much?”

he glances up, mouth quirking into that slow, crooked smile she’s starting to fall for way too easily.

“baby, i already do.”

she hides her face in his shoulder, mumbling something about how gross he is, and he just laughs, arms wrapping tighter around her.

they stay there for a little while longer like that—her in his lap, him finishing the rest of his eggs with one hand while holding her close with the other.

eventually he mentions casually, “i rented the rink for the guys later—little summer skate. girls are all coming if you’re up for it.”

she lifts her head. “like… actual skating?”

“not for us,” he chuckles. “we’ll run some drills, mess around. the girls usually hang on the benches or bring snacks. you don’t have to come, just thought you might want to.”

“i do,” she says without thinking, then adds, “yeah, i’d like that.”

he smiles into her shoulder, and something about the quiet warmth between them feels settled. domestic. like a life she could maybe get used to if she let herself.

he finishes his last bite, puts the plate aside, and kisses her jaw gently.

“told you,” he murmurs. “i want you around for everything.”

the chill reaches her first—sharp and biting as she enters the arena, the frosty air clinging to her skin and making her shiver under her hoodie. the girls precede her, bent against the cold in light jackets, steaming cups in hand, clearly used to the sting of the rink.

she was not.

but that's alright. because the second she sees auston out there on the ice, her entire body locks up.

"jesus," she breathes without meaning to, wide eyes, stuttering heart.

he's quick. not only quick—smooth, controlled, as if he were designed to do this. moving on the ice with explosive force, stick-handling with ease, making calls with fast cuts and a booming voice. his blades cut clean edges, and when he shoots, the puck smacks against the glass from wayward shots and jams into the net when it finds its way in—hard, sharp, fatal.

"holy shit," she repeats.

steph leans into her with a smug grin. “first time seeing him skate?”

she nods slowly, still staring.

steph snorts. “i knew it. you’ve got that awe-struck look. it’s okay, we’ve all had it.”

“i mean…” y/n blinks. “it’s crazy. he’s—he’s flying. i’ve never seen anything like this.”

“wait, actually?” steph tilts her head. “you’ve never watched a game? not even on tv?”

y/n shakes her head, amazed. "i'm arizona, steph. i don't even known which espn channel it comes on. i'll definitely tune in now"

steph laughs, hard enough that a couple of people look around. "i am glad i am apart of history. your first time watching your man skate"

y/n stands watching auston shoot in on a breakaway, skating with so much power his jersey puffs out behind him like a banner. he whips around, helmet tilted slightly back, cheeks red from cold and effort. when he glances at her from across the ice, his smile spreads wide and he forms words with his lips.

that was for you.

she blinks, stunned, and then smiles gently, running her cold fingertips over her cheek.

"wow," she breathes. "he's…incredible."

"yeah," steph smiles and nods. "he's not just good. he's one of the best. and i don't say that because i'm contractually obliged to seeing as he's mine and mitch's bestfriend."

y/n regards her. "i don't even know where to start with all of this." she blushed

steph shrugs, sipping from her bottle." i was the same. i never watched it constantly or anything. it's different when you're with someone who eat, sleeps, breaths it. i had to play catch up fast."

"so i'm not the only one?"

"not even close," steph assures. "you learn after a while. the slang, the traditions, the goofy fan culture. most of us are thrown in at the deep end—roadies, game day superstitions, press, playoffs… but you adapt."

y/n hums thoughtfully, eyes still following auston as he shoves joseph woll playfully after a missed pass, both of them laughing. he glances back up at her again, subtly, like he needs to make sure she’s watching.

and she is.

completely.

“i didn’t realize how little i know about this part of his life,” she admits, voice low, thoughtful.

steph nudges her gently. “that’s the easy part. what matters is if you want to know. and if he lets you in.”

y/n smiles faintly. “he’s trying.”

“then you'll be alright.”

on the ice, auston winds up again, skates cutting deep into the surface. he shoots. scores. and this time when he grins up at her, she doesn’t just smile back—she presses her hand to her heart, slowly, teasingly, like he’s just personally wounded her with his talent.

he bites back a grin, winks, and skates off.

and she thinks, yeah. she’s starting to really get it now.

moments late he separates from the group after another quick drill, helmet tipped back and steam rising barely from the neck of his jersey. when he spots her at the glass, leaning with her arms crossed and the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips, his smile goes lazy.

he skates to a stop right in front of her, blades complaining slightly against the ice.

“hey,” he says, breath a little uneven, cheeks flushed, grin easy.

“hey, captain,” she teases softly, eyes traveling over him slowly, shamelessly. “you, uh… always look like that when you’re on the ice?”

he quirks a brow. “like what?”

like you belong out there," she answers truthfully, the awe unfiltered now that they're this close. "like the pads and the gear and the skating at a million miles an hour are just—second nature."

he rests his gloved hands on the top of the boards, leaning in slightly. "is that your way of saying you think i look hot?

"i mean." she pretends to consider, biting the inside of her cheek. "I was going to hold off on inflating your ego but you're kind of amazing, auston matthews.”

his smile becomes full-blown smug. "yeah?"

"mhm. all that gear and speed and your overall capability. it's a lot."

he laughs, his eyes dropping to her mouth briefly before moving back to her eyes. "good. because i've been trying to impress you since warmups."

"oh?" she tilts her head, lips twitching. "scoring all those goals just for me?"

"every last one."

she takes a step closer to the boards, close enough that her fingertips almost brush against his gloves. "well. mission accomplished."

he leans in closer, mouth near the glass, voice low. "i like it when you look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like you want to pull me into the nearest closet and do unthinkable things to me."

she laughs, caught off guard, cheeks burning. “we are in public, auston”

“what?” he shrugs innocently. “i’m just saying. you’ve got that look in your eye. total bedroom eyes”

she raises a brow. “you’re lucky there’s glass between us.”

he smirks. “you think that’s gonna stop me?”

her heart misses a beat as he looks at her with that quiet intensity again, the kind that has her forgetting where they are, who's looking, and how easy it is to fall into him when he's this way—playful, confident, and completely hers.

"i'm gonna have to ask that you stop looking like that in the middle of practice," she says, voice softer.

he leans in once more, lips parted just slightly. "only if you don't look like this when until i step off the ice."

she has no comeback. not one that wouldn't get her completely flustered.

so she just smiles, takes a step back, and lets him return to practice.

and when he glances back over his shoulder at her once more, she's still watching, arms crossed and eyes soft, heart racing like he'd already scored again.

the scrimmage winds down with a flurry of blades and laughter, a few goals that earn whoops from the guys and half-hearted complaints from the ones who missed their mark. the pace slows, sticks get dropped lazily on the bench, and a few helmets are peeled off as they coast in loose circles.

y/n lingers by the boards, content where she is, arms tucked around herself against the lingering chill in the air. she watches the way auston skates — easy, fluid, like the ice belongs to him. like he belongs to it.

he breaks from the small crowd by center ice, gliding her way with one hand in the air, motioning her to come to the gate.

“nope,” she calls, shaking her head, already anticipating what’s coming.

he skids to a stop right in front of her with a grin, cheeks flushed pink and hair damp beneath his helmet. “why are you still over here?”

“because i value my life,” she says. “and my skull. i’ve made it this far without cracking it open and i’d like to keep that streak going.”

auston laughs, leans over the boards. “you’re being dramatic.”

“i’ve never skated, auston.”

“exactly,” he says, slipping off his gloves. “time to fix that.”

before she can protest further, he turns and skates to the benches, grabbing something — a pair of smaller skates, laces tied together and dangling from his fingers. he comes back and grins, presenting them like it’s a peace offering.

“what size are you?”

she blinks at him. “you brought me skates?”

“got them from the front when we came in. you could say was optimistic,” he shrugs. “i figured if you weren’t watching the game with heart eyes, I’d use other modes of cohersion.”

she snorts. “wow. full of yourself, huh?”

“a little,” he admits, stepping aside to let her through the gate. “but also right, because here you are.”

“reluctantly,” she mutters but steps onto the rubber matting off the ice and takes the skates from his hands.

he sits beside her on the bench as she swaps her shoes for the skates, shaky fingers threading the laces. “tighten your body until your feet,” he says gently, reaching to help. “you want support.”

when she stands, it’s wobbly — like a newborn deer taking its first steps — and she shoots him a look of utter betrayal.

“i told you this was a bad idea.”

he stands in front of her, already on his blades, hands ready. “you’re fine. i’ve got you.”

“you better,” she mumbles, letting him take both her hands as they approach the ice. the moment the blades hit it, she jerks. “oh, god.”

“relax,” he laughs, moving backward slowly, pulling her forward with him. “you’re doing great.”

“you liar,” she breathes, focusing entirely on his chest and not the sheet of death beneath her feet. “i look like bambi on ice.”

he grins. “bambi was adorable, so that tracks.”

she tries to glare at him but it’s hard to be angry when he’s holding both her hands, skating backward with such ridiculous ease, guiding her in small half-circles around the edge of the rink.

“i didn’t know you skated backward,” she says, voice tight with nerves.

he smirks. “kind of a crucial skill.”

“show off.”

“you love it.”

“maybe.”

they move in small arcs, her feet stuttering under her as she tries to keep up. every time she leans too far or starts to panic, he tugs her gently upright, steady hands and even steadier voice.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

“you say that a lot,” she says, breathless, half-laughing.

“because it’s true.”

her fingers tighten in his. “what if i fall?”

“then i fall with you.”

she glances up at him then, the grin on his face softening into something more tender. the arena lights cast a glow across the ice, and for a second, it’s just them in this bubble of cold air and warmth between their palms.

“you’re annoyingly good at this,” she says.

“the skating or flirting with you?”

she blushes. “both.”

he skates them in another lazy curve, close to the boards now, and pulls her a little closer, one hand slipping to her waist instinctively as she stumbles slightly.

“you’re doing better already,” he murmurs near her ear.

“you’re such a liar.”

“a supportive liar.”

she laughs, heart racing not from fear but from the closeness — from the way he watches her like she’s the only thing on the ice that matters.

they don’t go far, don’t need to. she’s not here to master skating — not really. she’s here because he wanted her here. because he picked her out of the crowd and brought her into his world. and somehow, that feels bigger than any first step she could take.

eventually, they make their way back to the boards. her legs ache and her balance is questionable at best, but her cheeks hurt from smiling, and his hands haven’t left her once.

as he helps her step off the ice and unties her skates, she sighs. “okay. maybe that wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

he glances up, fingers gentle as they loosen the laces. “so you’ll skate with me again?”

“if you promise to always catch me.”

he meets her gaze, something quiet and certain settling in his voice. “always.”

the sun hangs low by the time they all make it back to the house, the sky swirled in soft purples and golds. there’s a relaxed ease in the air, the post-scrimmage kind — bodies tired but spirits high. laughter echoes from the backyard where the guys are stationed around the grill, beers in hand, chirping one another over everything from missed shots to who’s the better cook.

the girls have all spread out on the patio — shoes off, glasses of alcohol or water in hand, hair let down and legs stretched out under the last of the summer warmth.

y/n steps out onto the deck after finishing a call from her boss regarding work — something small, nothing urgent, just enough to remind her how different her day-to-day is from this. she pockets her phone and catches eyes with steph, who waves her over with a wide smile.

“you good?” she asks, scooting over on the cushioned patio seat.

“yeah,” y/n nods, slipping off her sandals and sitting cross-legged. “just work.”

“vet stuff?”

y/n nods, smiling faintly. “my boss is older and we recently upgraded our filing system so he called to double check where he could find a file for a monday appointment. I could've let him figure it out then but i love the old man.”

they sit there, talking casually with a few of the other girls about dogs and air fryers and who brought the best sunscreen until the guys call out that food’s ready — burgers, ribs, grilled veggies, everything passed down the long outdoor table set up beneath fairy lights that someone, probably mitch or clay, strung up unevenly earlier.

auston’s standing at the head of the table, still shirtless from the rink under a loose flannel, hair slightly damp from a rinse in the shower. he’s talking to johnny and rasmus while holding a plate stacked like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

y/n moves to the table, easing into the only open seat near the end — but auston catches her wrist gently before she sits, tugging her toward him with a lazy smile and a low, “nope, you’re up here with me.”

“up here?” she lifts an eyebrow, eyeing the already full bench.

he leans in and lowers his voice, hand warm on the small of her back. “my lap. come on. don’t make me beg.”

her cheeks flush, but she can’t help the grin. “your love language is definitely physical touch.”

from further down the table, mitch vhimes in over steph's shoulder as she admire them from her husband lap, “you’re damn right it is. guy initiates every hug on the team. just a big teddy bear.”

“shut up,” auston mutters, though he’s smiling, arms already slipping around y/n’s waist as she settles onto his lap.

“it’s true,” y/n agrees, leaning back against his chest. “he’s soft for the people he loves.”

he hums into her shoulder, lips brushing the edge of her hair. “don’t let them know that.”

“too late,” she whispers, twisting slightly so she can grab a rib from his plate.

the meal unfolds easily around them — plates scraping, beers clinking, occasional bursts of laughter rising from one end of the table to the other. the girls naturally lean into their partners, arms draped, fingers laced under the table. and y/n feels the shape of it all as she sits tucked into auston — the quiet rhythm of his fingers trailing absent circles on her thigh, his chin occasionally brushing her shoulder as he talks lowly into her ear or kisses her temple.

and then something shifts — not jarringly, but enough.

she leans back again, eyes skimming the table.

she sees them all — his team. his life. the camaraderie, the deep-rooted connections, the language they all speak without speaking. and then she tilts her head just slightly, looks up at him.

and it hits her — this is auston matthews, captain of the maple leafs. the guy who skates like he was born on the ice, whose teammates look to him, whose world has always been bigger than hers.

despite all the doubts swirling in her mind, she realized that he was still her auston.

regret twisted in her stomach for the time she had wasted overthinking, trying to distinguish between the auston she slept with every night and the one who led the guys around her table. all along, they had been one and the same.

she swallows, slow and quiet, resting her head back against his chest. he notices the change in her posture immediately — arms tightening slightly around her middle, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“you okay?” he murmurs into her hair, tone low enough for only her.

she nods in response and she is okay. maybe she’s just a little overwhelmed — by the way he fits here so seamlessly, how everything seems so certain in his world, while hers still feels like shifting sand. how this all started from something as innocent and distant as a party, and now they’re here — her on his lap, surrounded by his life.

and she can’t help but wonder how she fits.

but then his hand presses flat against her stomach, warm and grounding, and his mouth finds her temple again with a soft kiss.

“you still hungry?” he murmurs.

she blinks out of her thoughts and looks up at him. “yeah,” she says, just to be close. “but you’ll have to share.”

he laughs quietly and slides his plate closer to them.

she lets herself enjoy this — his warmth behind her, the sound of laughter at the table, and the way his chest rises and falls like a quiet promise

after dinner winds down and the plates are cleared, the air outside shifts into something lighter. someone brings out dessert, the fairy lights are twinkling, and low music hums through a speaker tucked beside the patio bar. it feels like the golden hour of a perfect night — when everyone’s full, sun-kissed, maybe a little tipsy, and entirely content.

that’s when mitch stands on a patio chair and claps his hands loudly, almost knocking over his beer. “okay, okay — it’s time.”

there’s an audible groan from the table. someone boos. others cheer.

“karaoke!” mitch announces like it’s the oscars. “you know the rules.”

y/n tilts her head, confused. “what rules?”

beside her, steph leans over with a soft wince. “i should’ve warned you. mitch insists on karaoke after every team dinner. like… insists. it’s non-negotiable.”

“and the rules?” y/n asks with a laugh.

“he sings first,” steph deadpans. “every time.”

y/n’s eyebrows shoot up just as mitch snatches a mic from somewhere inside the house and cues up a song on a tablet someone passed him.

and then—the opening notes of justin bieber’s baby blares through the speakers, and mitch sings it with everything in him — off-key, fully committed, jumping around like he’s on stage at madison square garden.

y/n claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “oh my god.”

steph just nods, resigned. “it gets worse.”

but it doesn’t — because suddenly, in the middle of the chorus, auston stands up beside the couch where y/n is sitting, grabs the second mic, and without hesitation jumps in for the ludacris verse.

her jaw drops. literally drops.

he raps it directly to her, playful and confident, every word ridiculously on point. he’s still in a hoodie and mesh shorts, hair a little damp, socks half sliding down from being pulled on too fast. and yet somehow, he’s never looked more himself.

y/n bursts out laughing, full belly laugh, tipping her head back as he drops to one knee in front of her with dramatic flair and takes her hand, still rapping flawlessly.

steph’s already got her phone out, recording the whole thing. “i’ve never seen him do this verse.”

“me either,” someone says from across the patio.

but he keeps going, pointing at her with each line, exaggerating the delivery with raised eyebrows and mock intensity — all while she laughs so hard her eyes water.

by the time the verse ends, mitch picks steph up in an exaggerated twirl and shouts, “thank you and goodnight!” like he’s closing a vegas residency.

the patio explodes in laughter, applause, and a few rogue howls.

auston collapses next to y/n on the couch, slightly out of breath, cheeks pink with laughter and maybe a little exertion.

she’s still grinning, her hand tucked into his. “you’ve been hiding that talent.”

he smirks and shrugs, lacing their fingers together. “only pull it out for the right crowd.”

“you knew all the words,” she says, half in awe.

“it’s a classic. i knew i had to sing for my girl.”

she looks at him, the weight of everything hitting her slowly — how at ease he is here, how much fun he’s having, how different this version of him is from the quiet, confident man she treated in her exam room.

she’s never seen him like this.

and she realizes, in this moment — not only is he good with pressure and poise, but he knows how to play. how to love. how to live loud with the people who see him for all he is.

he leans in and nudges her cheek with his nose, voice low. “you’re still laughing.”

“can’t help it.”

he presses a kiss to her temple, quick and fond, before glancing around at the chaos of their friends and teammates now debating the next song. “i think you’re next.”

“absolutely not,” she says, laughing again as she sinks deeper into the couch and into his side.

but the smile that lingers on her face doesn’t fade — not for the rest of the night. and neither does his hand, which doesn’t leave hers once.

the music cuts in abruptly — a sharp, bratty let’s go! blaring through the speakers.

auston turns toward the sliding doors just as steph and y/n burst out of the house like they’re on a mission. both holding microphones like they’re headlining coachella, as they sing to the melody of avril lavigne’s girlfriend.

a collective laugh breaks through the crowd. joe, crouched near the tv with a devilish grin, gives them a thumbs-up. the beat kicks in harder, and the girls go all in.

steph points directly at mitch like he’s a stadium full of people and y/n — she’s playful and magnetic, mouthing the words and bumping her shoulder into steph’s with a confidence that makes something in auston’s chest ache.

he watches her — captivated — like he’s seeing her for the first time and every time all at once.

her hair’s loose and wavy from the desert air, her cheeks pink from wine and summer heat, her smile effortless as she spins dramatically toward steph for the chorus.

they sound terrible. off-key, slightly breathless, and giggling too hard to stay in time with the track.

and it’s perfect.

by the second chorus, steph’s already pulled mitch in, dragging him by the wrist until he’s dancing like a fool beside her, doing half the choreography from memory. “i know the dance,” he insists over the music, as if that’s an accomplishment.

auston’s still watching when y/n picks him out across the patio. her eyes soften but she doesn’t stop singing, doesn’t stop moving — she just crosses the distance like it’s the easiest thing in the world. and when she’s close enough, she holds out her hand.

“dance with me, captain.”

his mouth twitches. “i thought you didn’t care for hockey.”

“i did say that but i've had a change of heart seeing you on the ice today,” she counters. “i am not an avid hockey watcher yet but we can agree, avril is timeless"

he laughs, setting his drink down and taking her hand. “you’re insane.”

“you love it.”

he does.

he really, really does.

he pulls her closer by the waist, resting his forehead against hers for a brief second. her hands settle gently on his shoulders. she’s still smiling — flushed and full of joy — and it’s so her that he almost forgets there are a dozen people around them.

“you’re so good at this,” he murmurs as they sway, loosely in rhythm with the beat.

“at what?”

“making me my worries disappear." she tilts her head, lips parting slightly, eyes searching his. “it feels easy with you.”

he smiles, leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “it’s supposed to be.”

and then he spins her.

poorly. so poorly.

she yelps and nearly crashes into him, laughing against his chest as he catches her.

“you’re actually awful at this,” she says through a laugh.

“i play hockey, not ballroom dance,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “but for you, i’ll do anything.”

she softens. leans into him as the bridge plays and the others join in — wives and husbands pairing off, dancing terribly to a 2000s pop-punk anthem like it’s a slow song at prom.

and in the middle of it all, auston holds her like she belongs there.

because she does.

and for a second — swaying with her in the backyard, surrounded by friends and warm lights and music — he thinks maybe, just maybe, this could be a life they build together.

her laughter, her hand in his, them. always.

the sun hangs lower in the sky now, casting a warm, amber hue over the backyard as the last of the bags are packed, coolers zipped up, and leftover snacks gathered. one by one, the couples filter out of the house, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, calling out see-you-soons and promises to make the next get-together even bigger.

steph pulls y/n into a tight hug just past the patio doors, the kind of hug that lingers, like they’re both aware this was more than just a weekend hangout — that it meant something.

“you better not disappear on me,” steph says into her ear, a soft smile curling against her cheek. “i expect texts, instagram stalking, and daily updates when you two make it official.”

y/n lets out a small laugh, but it’s a little too soft, a little too wistful. “you’ll be the first to know.”

steph pulls back, eyebrows lifting like she sees right through her. “i really hope you come to toronto.”

y/n's lips part. she wants to say me too. but it comes with so many moving pieces, so many fears.

before she can find the words, auston steps in behind her, his hand brushing the small of her back. “we’ll figure it out,” he says, firm but gentle, like it’s already decided. like she’s not alone in this decision.

steph catches his eye and gives him a knowing smile. “you better take care of her, matthews.”

“always,” he replies easily, gaze dipping to y/n like she’s the only thing that makes sense in this moment.

mitch crashes in next, pulling y/n into a hug that nearly lifts her off the floor. she lets out a surprised laugh, clutching his shoulders. “jesus, mitch, you’re stronger than you look.”

“i work out,” he says smugly, then softens. “hey, seriously… he really likes you. like really. you already know that, but i gotta say it just in case.”

her throat tightens. “i care about him too.”

he nods, all the usual goofiness gone. “then don’t let distance scare you off. some people are worth the work.”

y/n nods, barely able to reply before he pulls back and gives auston a slap on the chest. “she’s a keeper, tone.”

“i know,” auston says, voice low and sure.

and then they’re gone.

the door clicks shut. the laughter fades down the driveway. and suddenly, it’s quiet — achingly so.

y/n stands in the middle of the open-concept kitchen, arms folded gently, her gaze trailing across the now-empty wine glasses and abandoned flip-flops by the door. the echoes of a weekend filled with joy and comfort and something dangerously close to belonging still linger in the walls.

auston leans on the island behind her, watching her carefully.

“you okay?” he asks.

she nods once, then slowly turns to face him. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt so... involved. like not just a house or a weekend or a group. in it. like i was part of something.”

he moves closer, his voice softer. “you were.”

she exhales, her hands sliding into her pockets. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt like this with anyone. not even close.”

auston’s jaw tightens. not with fear, but with understanding. “it’s different with us.”

“yeah,” she whispers, “that’s the scary part.”

he nods, stepping into her space. “what scares you more? how fast this is, or how right it feels?”

her eyes lift to meet his, searching.

“both,” she admits. “it’s like… you fit. but everything else doesn’t. my life’s here, my job, my family. and you—”

“i’m there,” he finishes for her.

she looks at him, voice barely above a breath. “how do we figure that out?”

he reaches out, fingers grazing her wrist before taking her hand completely, grounding her.

“i don’t have the answer yet,” he says honestly. “but i know i want to. i know i have to.”

she looks down at their hands, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “what if we try, and it’s too hard?”

“you will never be too hard for me. where you are.”

she lifts her eyes again. and the weight of what they’re feeling — what they are — hangs between them.

auston takes a step forward, close enough for her to feel his breath.

“you make me want to be somewhere and someone,” he murmurs. “that’s not nothing, y/n. that’s everything.”

she doesn’t reply — can’t, not without crying. instead, she rests her forehead against his chest, his arms curling around her.

and for a moment, the quiet isn’t heavy anymore. it’s still, full, patient. the kind of silence that only settles between two people who feel something real and are still figuring out how to hold it.

they won’t say goodbye. not this after this weekend.

they just stay there, wrapped up in each other in a house that’s suddenly too big and too quiet and yet still feels like the start of something they’ll both remember.

forever.

their evening wound down the way it always did when it was just them.

his arm slung lazily over her waist, fingers tucked into the space between her body and the couch like he needed her close. her legs tangled with his under the soft throw blanket, the cotton worn and familiar against bare skin. the flickering light of the tv cast soft shadows across the room, painting their skin in muted tones as love island buzzed quietly in the background — chaotic british accents and villa dramatics filling the silence like white noise.

they were curled up on the sectional in the dim quiet of the house — finally alone, finally still. no karaoke. no barbecue smoke. no mitch chirping them from across the patio. just them. just this.

the house was theirs until tomorrow evening — a quiet gift from their friends who had helped clean and clear out before leaving. all they had left to do was exist together, unwind after a weekend full of people and noise and heat.

auston shifted slightly, drawing her even closer, his palm slipping under the hem of her sweatshirt to rest warm and firm against the bare dip of her back.

“this is what i’ve been waiting for,” he murmured, voice low and thick as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

she smiled into his chest, cheek nestled against him. “what, twenty-year-olds yelling about bombshells and loyalty and girl code?”

he huffed a soft laugh, chest rising beneath her. “no. just you. me. nobody else.”

the silence stretched comfortably — not heavy, but intimate. until another dramatic fight broke out on screen and y/n stirred, shifting to sit up slightly. her hair was tousled from his hoodie, her cheeks still flushed from the wine they’d been sipping. she looked soft, open — like every nerve had been soothed by just being near him.

she turned to him, voice barely above a whisper. “can i say something?”

he was already looking at her. “when has that ever stopped you?”

she rolled her eyes but bit her lip, fingers toying with the gold chain around his neck. her voice dropped a little lower, almost shy.

“you looked really hot playing yesterday. and i can’t stop thinking about it.”

his lips tugged into a slow, crooked smirk. “oh yeah?”

“unfairly hot,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “the pads. the speed. the confidence. you looked so in your element — like nothing could touch you.”

he sat up a little straighter, tilting his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. “didn’t know hockey did it for you.”

she shrugged. “didn’t either. but apparently, it does. or maybe it’s just you.”

“hmm.” he leaned in, eyes flicking to her mouth. “so me in pads turns you on.”

her fingers tugged lightly at his chain, pulling him a little closer. “more than it should.”

he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating between them, and then — as if he couldn’t take another second — he reached for her waist and lifted her into his lap like it was nothing. her knees bracketing his hips, her thighs pressing into the sides of him. her hands found his shoulders as she straddled him, her eyes already half-lidded.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he said, brushing the hair back from her face.

“you’re the one pulling me into your lap,” she shot back, breath already quickening.

he kissed her then — slow at first, sweet and unhurried. but it deepened quickly, the tension that had been simmering all weekend finally catching fire. her hands slid into the curls at the nape of his neck, and her hips rolled against his thigh without thinking.

he broke the kiss just enough to speak, his voice wrecked. “i wanted to wait. i wanted to take care of you the way you deserve. slow. but you don’t want that… do you, hmm?”

she blinked at him, already breathless, lips parted.

“my dirty, impatient girl,” he murmured, lips brushing hers. “can’t finish the weekend without me making you come. so desperate.”

her only response was a shaky exhale, her fingers tightening in his shirt.

his grip on her waist stayed steady, grounding, guiding. she was already rocking against him — small, deliberate motions that turned into something more desperate with each pass.

“that’s it,” he whispered against her ear, the grit in his voice making her whole body tense. “feel what you’re doing to me?”

she nodded fast, but he stilled her again with a squeeze to her waist.

“words, baby.”

“yes,” she gasped. “yes.”

he kissed her jaw, his lips trailing down her neck. “look at you. riding my thigh like it’s the only thing that matters. so fucking needy for it.”

a sound caught in her throat — half-moan, half-whimper — and it spurred him on.

“been wanting this since the moment i saw you again. you on top of me. falling apart.” his hands dragged under her sweatshirt, fingers skating up the warm skin of her back.

she arched into him, hips stuttering. “auston…”

he kissed the shell of her ear. “say it. say you like me in control.”

“i do,” she moaned. “i love it.”

“yeah?” his hands dropped to her ass, pulling her tighter against the hard muscle of his thigh. “you love working yourself on me like a desperate little thing?”

she was trembling now, breath hitching, mouth finding his neck. her teeth scraped lightly across his pulse.

“please,” she whispered. “please, i need it…”

“not yet,” he said, dragging it out. “you don’t get to until i say so.”

she was soaked through the thin barrier of her shorts — and he could feel it. the heat, the pressure, the way she was losing control right there on his lap.

“you close, baby?” he asked, lips brushing her temple.

“y-yeah,” she whimpered. “so close.”

“then come for me,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “show me who you belong to.”

it only took one more slow roll of her hips — one more deliberate press of his thigh — and she was unraveling. her body tensed, a gasp catching in her throat before she collapsed against him, shaking with the waves of her release.

he held her through it, hands stroking her back, lips brushing her temple.

“there she is,” he murmured. “my pretty girl.”

and even breathless, boneless, still trembling — she managed to lift her head, dazed but grinning. “you’re evil.”

he laughed, eyes roaming her face. “and you’re perfect.”

she shifted in his lap, cheeks flushed, still catching her breath.

“i’ve never done that before,” she whispered, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “but then again, i’ve never met someone with legs like yours.”

he let out a full, belly-deep laugh, chest shaking under her. “huge, huh?”

“ridiculous,” she muttered, smiling against his skin. “you have a lot of real estate, matthews.”

he cupped her ass, still cocky. “i am a professional athlete, baby.”

“god, shut up,” she groaned, dropping her head back with a laugh. “your thighs are basically a public hazard.”

he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, smirking. “you weren't complaining when i watched you soak my thigh, baby.”

she blinked up at him, eyes soft again. “can you blame me?”

“no,” he said honestly. “you look gorgeous when you come.”

she snuggled in closer, and he shifted them on the couch, grabbing the remote to restart the episode. but when she shivered slightly, he stood — arms sliding under her thighs and back like instinct.

“you’re not walking up those stairs.”

“why not?”

“‘cause i don’t trust your legs right now,” he grinned.

and she giggled, helpless and lovestruck as he carried her — steady and sure — up the stairs. her arms looped around his neck. her lips kissed under his jaw. and he didn’t let her go until she was laid gently in his bed, tucked under the covers, his arm thrown over her like he didn’t ever want to be anywhere else.

she was already half-asleep, but she heard him whisper it — barely above the hush of the night.

“i’d wait forever for you.”

and in the quiet that followed, her fingers reached for his and squeezed.

a simple touch. but something about the way his hand tightened around hers — firm, steady, without hesitation — made her heart twist.

it hit her then, quietly, in the space between breaths.

he wasn’t just talking about now. not just the soft stillness of this night, or the heat of her skin under his hands. he meant something deeper.

he meant the days he’d be away. the long stretches where she wouldn’t wake up to him, wouldn’t hear his voice except through a phone. he meant the quiet ache of distance, of missing each other in ways that made your chest hollow out.

he meant the kind of waiting that wasn’t easy — the kind that asked for patience, for trust, for choosing each other even when it would be simpler not to.

and she realized: he was already choosing her.

every time. in every way.

and suddenly, that promise felt bigger than the room. bigger than the moment. like something she might carry in her chest for the rest of her life.

she blinked, swallowed the lump in her throat, and whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear:

“i’d wait for you too.”

and she meant it. every word.

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER SIX

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 9k

warnings — minors dni. sexual content

an — someone play its getting hotin here by nella

masterlist

she woke slowly.

the kind of slow that came with dry mouth, a dull throb behind her eyes, and the unmistakable ache of alcohol still dragging itself through her bloodstream.

it was too bright in the room. too warm under the duvet. and the shirt she wore—his shirt—was pooled around her waist, exposing the bare skin of her hip to the morning air.

for a moment, she kept her eyes closed, face half buried in the pillow that smelled like him.

but then she shifted, winced, and sat up with a groan.

on the nightstand: a tall glass of water with beads of condensation. a pair of ibuprofen. and a folded note in familiar handwriting.

had to hit go to gym. the guys wouldn’t take no for an answer. take the medicine and water for your inevitable hangover i'll be right back — A

she huffed a laugh, soft and grateful, and swallowed the pills.

the embarrassment hit about five minutes later—after brushing her teeth, after washing her face, after remembering how boldly she’d pulled him down on top of her the night before, hands all over him, kissing like she was starving. her whole body turned hot as the memory filled her like steam in the shower.

god, she thought. what was i doing.

she got dressed slowly, choosing comfort over anything remotely revealing. loose drawstring shorts, a soft ribbed tank. her hair still damp, her cheeks still pink, she padded down the hall and made her way to the kitchen.

the house buzzed in a lazy kind of way. someone was playing music low on a speaker. the scent of eggs and maple and freshly brewed coffee curled in the air. and when she turned the corner, she saw steph seated at the island, chatting animatedly with two other women she didn’t know well yet.

“morning,” y/n murmured, trying not to squint too obviously at the light.

steph lit up. “hey! the party girl’s alive.”

y/n laughed weakly, sliding onto a stool as someone handed her a glass of iced coffee. “barely.”

“mitch said you and auston disappeared early.” she lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

“i think i was just—tired,” she said, picking at the edge of her cup. “and very… drunk.”

the girls laughed, light and easy, and for a while they just talked—passing plates, debating who actually made the best pancakes on the team. and then the conversation shifted, like it always did, back to hockey. to the guys. to the life.

“so… how are you feeling dating the most desirable professional athlete in toronto?” one of them asked casually, reaching for the butter.

y/n blinked. “oh—um.”

“you are dating auston, right?” steph asked, eyebrows raised with a grin.

y/n blushed, hiding her face behind her mug. “not yet.”

steph’s grin widened. “okay. yet. i’m holding onto that.”

the kitchen filled with a soft chorus of teasing oohs, and y/n smiled, even through the heat prickling her cheeks.

when the chaos finally subsided, she seized the opportunity to ask steph a question that had been haunting her daily. although they had only known each other briefly, there was something about steph that made people feel comfortable around her.

"how do you do it?" she didn't have to elaborate, steph's eyes softened as the question lingered between them,

steph straightened up a little, spinning her spoon in her coffee. “look, with mitch—we’ve known each other since we were kids, so i grew up around this life. it’s familiar. but even then… nothing really prepares you for the travel. or the pressure. or the long roadies where they’re in another time zone and all you want is to feel close.”

y/n nodded quietly, the words sinking in.

“i have zeus and now our son miles,” steph added with a shrug. “which helps. he cuddles with me and hogs the bed and keeps me company when mitch is gone for eight days. but honestly? the hard days are worth it. when he comes home, when we’re together—it reminds me why we make it work.”

y/n smiled softly. “that sounds nice.”

and she meant it. she really did.

but somewhere in the space between the kitchen laughter and the ache in her temples, the doubt bloomed again. she thought about auston in the gym. about his routine. about the world he lived in—high-intensity, high-profile, high-stakes.

and her?

her life was quieter. rooted. arizona felt like home because it was home. it was her clinic, her morning walks to get her daily cofee, her family. it wasn’t toronto. it wasn’t games and cameras and long stretches apart.

what would it even look like, she wondered, to try and belong in his world.

the conversation shifted again—back to stories about away games and travel mishaps—and y/n listened, laughing where she could, smiling where it felt right. but a part of her drifted. just a little. somewhere far from the countertop and the coffee.

and then, just as she reached for her second piece of toast, she felt it.

a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind.

auston—still damp from his shower, still warm, still very much her safe place—nuzzled into her neck, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear causing her to shiver in reponse.

“you survived,” he murmured against her skin.

“barely,” she replied, turning slightly to look up at him.

he smiled. tired, but real.

he kissed her cheek, lingering, and she didn’t miss the way the other girls looked at each other, stifling their collective swoon.

“what’d i miss?” he asked the table, still standing behind her, still holding her like it was second nature.

“just talking about how y/n’s not yet dating you,” steph teased.

auston looked down at her, his smile widening. “not yet, hmm?”

y/n groaned, sinking lower in her seat. “you’re all the worst.”

but when he kissed her again, this time right on the temple, she didn’t pull away.

not even a little.

because maybe she didn’t know what this was supposed to look like. maybe the miles between them were real. and maybe she was still figuring out if her life could ever fit into his.

but in that moment—surrounded by his people, his world, his warmth—she didn’t feel so far away.

his arms wrap tighter around her middle the second he notices the way she tenses under the attention, her smile dimmer now that everyone’s watching.

“you’re shy this morning,” he murmurs into her hair, grinning. “don’t tell me i have to carry you back upstairs so you can keep hiding in my bed.”

her breath hitches, quiet but audible. she leans her head back just enough to glance at him, and god—she looks wrecked in the prettiest way. sleepy and soft, hair still damp from her quick rinse, cheeks flushed from either the heat or the memory of everything she’d done the night before.

auston doesn’t miss it. doesn’t want to.

he presses a kiss to the crown of her head and drops his voice, teasing but low enough for only her to hear.

“you know,” he murmurs, “for someone who was dragging me on top of her last night, you’re awfully shy in the daylight.”

she elbows him gently in the ribs, but she’s smiling, biting down on it like she’s trying not to laugh.

“i guess you got lucky, didn’t you,” she whispers back. obviously joking.

he chuckles, the sound deep and easy in her ear. “i’m lucky? i had to handle my problem after you slept”

he shifts just slightly behind her, enough to lean in again, brushing his mouth against the curve of her jaw. her skin tastes like toothpaste and sleep and something sweet from breakfast, and he lingers there a second too long.

“baby, if you knew the kind of things i want to do to you,” he breathes, “you’d never stop blushing.”

she stiffens a little, pulse fluttering just beneath her collarbone. he sees the way her hand tightens around her iced coffee. how she’s trying not to melt into him.

“that so?” she says, not quite steady.

he smiles, pleased.

“mhm,” he hums, eyes flicking over her shoulder toward steph and the other girls, who are absolutely pretending not to eavesdrop. “but you’ll have to be good if you wanna find out.”

she turns her head, meeting his eyes with a look that’s part challenge, part barely-contained laughter. “and if i’m not?”

he grins, teeth flashing. “then i guess i’ll have to show you how good i can be instead.”

there’s a pause—her lips parted, her eyes wide—but then steph clears her throat loudly and calls out, “hey! save that for later, loverboy.”

auston laughs, backing off just enough to pluck the edge of her shirt where it’s tucked in lazily at the back.

“just reminding her who took care of her drunk ass last night,” he says, tossing a wink in her direction.

y/n rolls her eyes, face still pink. “you really want credit for pouring me water and tucking me in?”

“i want credit for not cutting you off at one sangria ,” he says, only loud enough for her.

she rolled her eyes at him before standing as he grabbed his plate and led her to the patio.

he sunk into one of the cushioned chairs with his breakfast on his lap and felix sprawled out beside him, snoring.

he grins when he sees her.

“despite last night, you still look irressitable,” he teases, eyes trailing over her like he’s already memorized how she looks in his tank and cotton shorts. “you sleep okay?”

“once the room stopped spinning,” she mutters, squinting at the sun. “i can’t believe you made me drink that much sangria.”

he snorts. “you made you drink that much sangria.”

“whatever.” she walks over and plops herself into his lap without asking, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you didn’t stop me.”

“i never do,” he says, smiling as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i like you loud and clingy.”

“so basically i embarrassed myself all night,” she groans.

“you were perfect all night.”

he nudges her closer and rests his chin on her shoulder as he cuts into his eggs with one hand. “you want some?”

“no thanks,” she murmurs, letting her legs dangle over his, the sun warming her skin, his arms surrounding her. “this is nice.”

he hums. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she says, and it’s quiet for a minute. the kind of quiet that feels good. settled. “thanks for inviting me.”

he sets the fork down.

“we’re way past that,” he says into her neck, the words steady and sure. “i want you anywhere i am.”

her heart thuds a little harder.

she leans back just enough to catch his gaze, chewing on her lip before asking softly, “even in toronto?”

he doesn’t even blink. “especially toronto.”

she stares at him, surprised by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how certain he sounds.

he shrugs like it’s nothing. like it’s obvious.

“i know it’s not that simple,” he adds, pulling her hand into his lap to play with her fingers, “but if it ever was simple—yeah. i’d want you there.”

her voice is a little small when she says, “you’d really want me around that much?”

he glances up, mouth quirking into that slow, crooked smile she’s starting to fall for way too easily.

“baby, i already do.”

she hides her face in his shoulder, mumbling something about how gross he is, and he just laughs, arms wrapping tighter around her.

they stay there for a little while longer like that—her in his lap, him finishing the rest of his eggs with one hand while holding her close with the other.

eventually he mentions casually, “i rented the rink for the guys later—little summer skate. girls are all coming if you’re up for it.”

she lifts her head. “like… actual skating?”

“not for us,” he chuckles. “we’ll run some drills, mess around. the girls usually hang on the benches or bring snacks. you don’t have to come, just thought you might want to.”

“i do,” she says without thinking, then adds, “yeah, i’d like that.”

he smiles into her shoulder, and something about the quiet warmth between them feels settled. domestic. like a life she could maybe get used to if she let herself.

he finishes his last bite, puts the plate aside, and kisses her jaw gently.

“told you,” he murmurs. “i want you around for everything.”

the chill reaches her first—sharp and biting as she enters the arena, the frosty air clinging to her skin and making her shiver under her hoodie. the girls precede her, bent against the cold in light jackets, steaming cups in hand, clearly used to the sting of the rink.

she was not.

but that's alright. because the second she sees auston out there on the ice, her entire body locks up.

"jesus," she breathes without meaning to, wide eyes, stuttering heart.

he's quick. not only quick—smooth, controlled, as if he were designed to do this. moving on the ice with explosive force, stick-handling with ease, making calls with fast cuts and a booming voice. his blades cut clean edges, and when he shoots, the puck smacks against the glass from wayward shots and jams into the net when it finds its way in—hard, sharp, fatal.

"holy shit," she repeats.

steph leans into her with a smug grin. “first time seeing him skate?”

she nods slowly, still staring.

steph snorts. “i knew it. you’ve got that awe-struck look. it’s okay, we’ve all had it.”

“i mean…” y/n blinks. “it’s crazy. he’s—he’s flying. i’ve never seen anything like this.”

“wait, actually?” steph tilts her head. “you’ve never watched a game? not even on tv?”

y/n shakes her head, amazed. "i'm arizona, steph. i don't even known which espn channel it comes on. i'll definitely tune in now"

steph laughs, hard enough that a couple of people look around. "i am glad i am apart of history. your first time watching your man skate"

y/n stands watching auston shoot in on a breakaway, skating with so much power his jersey puffs out behind him like a banner. he whips around, helmet tilted slightly back, cheeks red from cold and effort. when he glances at her from across the ice, his smile spreads wide and he forms words with his lips.

that was for you.

she blinks, stunned, and then smiles gently, running her cold fingertips over her cheek.

"wow," she breathes. "he's…incredible."

"yeah," steph smiles and nods. "he's not just good. he's one of the best. and i don't say that because i'm contractually obliged to seeing as he's mine and mitch's bestfriend."

y/n regards her. "i don't even know where to start with all of this." she blushed

steph shrugs, sipping from her bottle." i was the same. i never watched it constantly or anything. it's different when you're with someone who eat, sleeps, breaths it. i had to play catch up fast."

"so i'm not the only one?"

"not even close," steph assures. "you learn after a while. the slang, the traditions, the goofy fan culture. most of us are thrown in at the deep end—roadies, game day superstitions, press, playoffs… but you adapt."

y/n hums thoughtfully, eyes still following auston as he shoves joseph woll playfully after a missed pass, both of them laughing. he glances back up at her again, subtly, like he needs to make sure she’s watching.

and she is.

completely.

“i didn’t realize how little i know about this part of his life,” she admits, voice low, thoughtful.

steph nudges her gently. “that’s the easy part. what matters is if you want to know. and if he lets you in.”

y/n smiles faintly. “he’s trying.”

“then you'll be alright.”

on the ice, auston winds up again, skates cutting deep into the surface. he shoots. scores. and this time when he grins up at her, she doesn’t just smile back—she presses her hand to her heart, slowly, teasingly, like he’s just personally wounded her with his talent.

he bites back a grin, winks, and skates off.

and she thinks, yeah. she’s starting to really get it now.

moments late he separates from the group after another quick drill, helmet tipped back and steam rising barely from the neck of his jersey. when he spots her at the glass, leaning with her arms crossed and the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips, his smile goes lazy.

he skates to a stop right in front of her, blades complaining slightly against the ice.

“hey,” he says, breath a little uneven, cheeks flushed, grin easy.

“hey, captain,” she teases softly, eyes traveling over him slowly, shamelessly. “you, uh… always look like that when you’re on the ice?”

he quirks a brow. “like what?”

like you belong out there," she answers truthfully, the awe unfiltered now that they're this close. "like the pads and the gear and the skating at a million miles an hour are just—second nature."

he rests his gloved hands on the top of the boards, leaning in slightly. "is that your way of saying you think i look hot?

"i mean." she pretends to consider, biting the inside of her cheek. "I was going to hold off on inflating your ego but you're kind of amazing, auston matthews.”

his smile becomes full-blown smug. "yeah?"

"mhm. all that gear and speed and your overall capability. it's a lot."

he laughs, his eyes dropping to her mouth briefly before moving back to her eyes. "good. because i've been trying to impress you since warmups."

"oh?" she tilts her head, lips twitching. "scoring all those goals just for me?"

"every last one."

she takes a step closer to the boards, close enough that her fingertips almost brush against his gloves. "well. mission accomplished."

he leans in closer, mouth near the glass, voice low. "i like it when you look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like you want to pull me into the nearest closet and do unthinkable things to me."

she laughs, caught off guard, cheeks burning. “we are in public, auston”

“what?” he shrugs innocently. “i’m just saying. you’ve got that look in your eye. total bedroom eyes”

she raises a brow. “you’re lucky there’s glass between us.”

he smirks. “you think that’s gonna stop me?”

her heart misses a beat as he looks at her with that quiet intensity again, the kind that has her forgetting where they are, who's looking, and how easy it is to fall into him when he's this way—playful, confident, and completely hers.

"i'm gonna have to ask that you stop looking like that in the middle of practice," she says, voice softer.

he leans in once more, lips parted just slightly. "only if you don't look like this when until i step off the ice."

she has no comeback. not one that wouldn't get her completely flustered.

so she just smiles, takes a step back, and lets him return to practice.

and when he glances back over his shoulder at her once more, she's still watching, arms crossed and eyes soft, heart racing like he'd already scored again.

the scrimmage winds down with a flurry of blades and laughter, a few goals that earn whoops from the guys and half-hearted complaints from the ones who missed their mark. the pace slows, sticks get dropped lazily on the bench, and a few helmets are peeled off as they coast in loose circles.

y/n lingers by the boards, content where she is, arms tucked around herself against the lingering chill in the air. she watches the way auston skates — easy, fluid, like the ice belongs to him. like he belongs to it.

he breaks from the small crowd by center ice, gliding her way with one hand in the air, motioning her to come to the gate.

“nope,” she calls, shaking her head, already anticipating what’s coming.

he skids to a stop right in front of her with a grin, cheeks flushed pink and hair damp beneath his helmet. “why are you still over here?”

“because i value my life,” she says. “and my skull. i’ve made it this far without cracking it open and i’d like to keep that streak going.”

auston laughs, leans over the boards. “you’re being dramatic.”

“i’ve never skated, auston.”

“exactly,” he says, slipping off his gloves. “time to fix that.”

before she can protest further, he turns and skates to the benches, grabbing something — a pair of smaller skates, laces tied together and dangling from his fingers. he comes back and grins, presenting them like it’s a peace offering.

“what size are you?”

she blinks at him. “you brought me skates?”

“got them from the front when we came in. you could say was optimistic,” he shrugs. “i figured if you weren’t watching the game with heart eyes, I’d use other modes of cohersion.”

she snorts. “wow. full of yourself, huh?”

“a little,” he admits, stepping aside to let her through the gate. “but also right, because here you are.”

“reluctantly,” she mutters but steps onto the rubber matting off the ice and takes the skates from his hands.

he sits beside her on the bench as she swaps her shoes for the skates, shaky fingers threading the laces. “tighten your body until your feet,” he says gently, reaching to help. “you want support.”

when she stands, it’s wobbly — like a newborn deer taking its first steps — and she shoots him a look of utter betrayal.

“i told you this was a bad idea.”

he stands in front of her, already on his blades, hands ready. “you’re fine. i’ve got you.”

“you better,” she mumbles, letting him take both her hands as they approach the ice. the moment the blades hit it, she jerks. “oh, god.”

“relax,” he laughs, moving backward slowly, pulling her forward with him. “you’re doing great.”

“you liar,” she breathes, focusing entirely on his chest and not the sheet of death beneath her feet. “i look like bambi on ice.”

he grins. “bambi was adorable, so that tracks.”

she tries to glare at him but it’s hard to be angry when he’s holding both her hands, skating backward with such ridiculous ease, guiding her in small half-circles around the edge of the rink.

“i didn’t know you skated backward,” she says, voice tight with nerves.

he smirks. “kind of a crucial skill.”

“show off.”

“you love it.”

“maybe.”

they move in small arcs, her feet stuttering under her as she tries to keep up. every time she leans too far or starts to panic, he tugs her gently upright, steady hands and even steadier voice.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

“you say that a lot,” she says, breathless, half-laughing.

“because it’s true.”

her fingers tighten in his. “what if i fall?”

“then i fall with you.”

she glances up at him then, the grin on his face softening into something more tender. the arena lights cast a glow across the ice, and for a second, it’s just them in this bubble of cold air and warmth between their palms.

“you’re annoyingly good at this,” she says.

“the skating or flirting with you?”

she blushes. “both.”

he skates them in another lazy curve, close to the boards now, and pulls her a little closer, one hand slipping to her waist instinctively as she stumbles slightly.

“you’re doing better already,” he murmurs near her ear.

“you’re such a liar.”

“a supportive liar.”

she laughs, heart racing not from fear but from the closeness — from the way he watches her like she’s the only thing on the ice that matters.

they don’t go far, don’t need to. she’s not here to master skating — not really. she’s here because he wanted her here. because he picked her out of the crowd and brought her into his world. and somehow, that feels bigger than any first step she could take.

eventually, they make their way back to the boards. her legs ache and her balance is questionable at best, but her cheeks hurt from smiling, and his hands haven’t left her once.

as he helps her step off the ice and unties her skates, she sighs. “okay. maybe that wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

he glances up, fingers gentle as they loosen the laces. “so you’ll skate with me again?”

“if you promise to always catch me.”

he meets her gaze, something quiet and certain settling in his voice. “always.”

the sun hangs low by the time they all make it back to the house, the sky swirled in soft purples and golds. there’s a relaxed ease in the air, the post-scrimmage kind — bodies tired but spirits high. laughter echoes from the backyard where the guys are stationed around the grill, beers in hand, chirping one another over everything from missed shots to who’s the better cook.

the girls have all spread out on the patio — shoes off, glasses of alcohol or water in hand, hair let down and legs stretched out under the last of the summer warmth.

y/n steps out onto the deck after finishing a call from her boss regarding work — something small, nothing urgent, just enough to remind her how different her day-to-day is from this. she pockets her phone and catches eyes with steph, who waves her over with a wide smile.

“you good?” she asks, scooting over on the cushioned patio seat.

“yeah,” y/n nods, slipping off her sandals and sitting cross-legged. “just work.”

“vet stuff?”

y/n nods, smiling faintly. “my boss is older and we recently upgraded our filing system so he called to double check where he could find a file for a monday appointment. I could've let him figure it out then but i love the old man.”

they sit there, talking casually with a few of the other girls about dogs and air fryers and who brought the best sunscreen until the guys call out that food’s ready — burgers, ribs, grilled veggies, everything passed down the long outdoor table set up beneath fairy lights that someone, probably mitch or clay, strung up unevenly earlier.

auston’s standing at the head of the table, still shirtless from the rink under a loose flannel, hair slightly damp from a rinse in the shower. he’s talking to johnny and rasmus while holding a plate stacked like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

y/n moves to the table, easing into the only open seat near the end — but auston catches her wrist gently before she sits, tugging her toward him with a lazy smile and a low, “nope, you’re up here with me.”

“up here?” she lifts an eyebrow, eyeing the already full bench.

he leans in and lowers his voice, hand warm on the small of her back. “my lap. come on. don’t make me beg.”

her cheeks flush, but she can’t help the grin. “your love language is definitely physical touch.”

from further down the table, mitch vhimes in over steph's shoulder as she admire them from her husband lap, “you’re damn right it is. guy initiates every hug on the team. just a big teddy bear.”

“shut up,” auston mutters, though he’s smiling, arms already slipping around y/n’s waist as she settles onto his lap.

“it’s true,” y/n agrees, leaning back against his chest. “he’s soft for the people he loves.”

he hums into her shoulder, lips brushing the edge of her hair. “don’t let them know that.”

“too late,” she whispers, twisting slightly so she can grab a rib from his plate.

the meal unfolds easily around them — plates scraping, beers clinking, occasional bursts of laughter rising from one end of the table to the other. the girls naturally lean into their partners, arms draped, fingers laced under the table. and y/n feels the shape of it all as she sits tucked into auston — the quiet rhythm of his fingers trailing absent circles on her thigh, his chin occasionally brushing her shoulder as he talks lowly into her ear or kisses her temple.

and then something shifts — not jarringly, but enough.

she leans back again, eyes skimming the table.

she sees them all — his team. his life. the camaraderie, the deep-rooted connections, the language they all speak without speaking. and then she tilts her head just slightly, looks up at him.

and it hits her — this is auston matthews, captain of the maple leafs. the guy who skates like he was born on the ice, whose teammates look to him, whose world has always been bigger than hers.

despite all the doubts swirling in her mind, she realized that he was still her auston.

regret twisted in her stomach for the time she had wasted overthinking, trying to distinguish between the auston she slept with every night and the one who led the guys around her table. all along, they had been one and the same.

she swallows, slow and quiet, resting her head back against his chest. he notices the change in her posture immediately — arms tightening slightly around her middle, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“you okay?” he murmurs into her hair, tone low enough for only her.

she nods in response and she is okay. maybe she’s just a little overwhelmed — by the way he fits here so seamlessly, how everything seems so certain in his world, while hers still feels like shifting sand. how this all started from something as innocent and distant as a party, and now they’re here — her on his lap, surrounded by his life.

and she can’t help but wonder how she fits.

but then his hand presses flat against her stomach, warm and grounding, and his mouth finds her temple again with a soft kiss.

“you still hungry?” he murmurs.

she blinks out of her thoughts and looks up at him. “yeah,” she says, just to be close. “but you’ll have to share.”

he laughs quietly and slides his plate closer to them.

she lets herself enjoy this — his warmth behind her, the sound of laughter at the table, and the way his chest rises and falls like a quiet promise

after dinner winds down and the plates are cleared, the air outside shifts into something lighter. someone brings out dessert, the fairy lights are twinkling, and low music hums through a speaker tucked beside the patio bar. it feels like the golden hour of a perfect night — when everyone’s full, sun-kissed, maybe a little tipsy, and entirely content.

that’s when mitch stands on a patio chair and claps his hands loudly, almost knocking over his beer. “okay, okay — it’s time.”

there’s an audible groan from the table. someone boos. others cheer.

“karaoke!” mitch announces like it’s the oscars. “you know the rules.”

y/n tilts her head, confused. “what rules?”

beside her, steph leans over with a soft wince. “i should’ve warned you. mitch insists on karaoke after every team dinner. like… insists. it’s non-negotiable.”

“and the rules?” y/n asks with a laugh.

“he sings first,” steph deadpans. “every time.”

y/n’s eyebrows shoot up just as mitch snatches a mic from somewhere inside the house and cues up a song on a tablet someone passed him.

and then—the opening notes of justin bieber’s baby blares through the speakers, and mitch sings it with everything in him — off-key, fully committed, jumping around like he’s on stage at madison square garden.

y/n claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “oh my god.”

steph just nods, resigned. “it gets worse.”

but it doesn’t — because suddenly, in the middle of the chorus, auston stands up beside the couch where y/n is sitting, grabs the second mic, and without hesitation jumps in for the ludacris verse.

her jaw drops. literally drops.

he raps it directly to her, playful and confident, every word ridiculously on point. he’s still in a hoodie and mesh shorts, hair a little damp, socks half sliding down from being pulled on too fast. and yet somehow, he’s never looked more himself.

y/n bursts out laughing, full belly laugh, tipping her head back as he drops to one knee in front of her with dramatic flair and takes her hand, still rapping flawlessly.

steph’s already got her phone out, recording the whole thing. “i’ve never seen him do this verse.”

“me either,” someone says from across the patio.

but he keeps going, pointing at her with each line, exaggerating the delivery with raised eyebrows and mock intensity — all while she laughs so hard her eyes water.

by the time the verse ends, mitch picks steph up in an exaggerated twirl and shouts, “thank you and goodnight!” like he’s closing a vegas residency.

the patio explodes in laughter, applause, and a few rogue howls.

auston collapses next to y/n on the couch, slightly out of breath, cheeks pink with laughter and maybe a little exertion.

she’s still grinning, her hand tucked into his. “you’ve been hiding that talent.”

he smirks and shrugs, lacing their fingers together. “only pull it out for the right crowd.”

“you knew all the words,” she says, half in awe.

“it’s a classic. i knew i had to sing for my girl.”

she looks at him, the weight of everything hitting her slowly — how at ease he is here, how much fun he’s having, how different this version of him is from the quiet, confident man she treated in her exam room.

she’s never seen him like this.

and she realizes, in this moment — not only is he good with pressure and poise, but he knows how to play. how to love. how to live loud with the people who see him for all he is.

he leans in and nudges her cheek with his nose, voice low. “you’re still laughing.”

“can’t help it.”

he presses a kiss to her temple, quick and fond, before glancing around at the chaos of their friends and teammates now debating the next song. “i think you’re next.”

“absolutely not,” she says, laughing again as she sinks deeper into the couch and into his side.

but the smile that lingers on her face doesn’t fade — not for the rest of the night. and neither does his hand, which doesn’t leave hers once.

the music cuts in abruptly — a sharp, bratty let’s go! blaring through the speakers.

auston turns toward the sliding doors just as steph and y/n burst out of the house like they’re on a mission. both holding microphones like they’re headlining coachella, as they sing to the melody of avril lavigne’s girlfriend.

a collective laugh breaks through the crowd. joe, crouched near the tv with a devilish grin, gives them a thumbs-up. the beat kicks in harder, and the girls go all in.

steph points directly at mitch like he’s a stadium full of people and y/n — she’s playful and magnetic, mouthing the words and bumping her shoulder into steph’s with a confidence that makes something in auston’s chest ache.

he watches her — captivated — like he’s seeing her for the first time and every time all at once.

her hair’s loose and wavy from the desert air, her cheeks pink from wine and summer heat, her smile effortless as she spins dramatically toward steph for the chorus.

they sound terrible. off-key, slightly breathless, and giggling too hard to stay in time with the track.

and it’s perfect.

by the second chorus, steph’s already pulled mitch in, dragging him by the wrist until he’s dancing like a fool beside her, doing half the choreography from memory. “i know the dance,” he insists over the music, as if that’s an accomplishment.

auston’s still watching when y/n picks him out across the patio. her eyes soften but she doesn’t stop singing, doesn’t stop moving — she just crosses the distance like it’s the easiest thing in the world. and when she’s close enough, she holds out her hand.

“dance with me, captain.”

his mouth twitches. “i thought you didn’t care for hockey.”

“i did say that but i've had a change of heart seeing you on the ice today,” she counters. “i am not an avid hockey watcher yet but we can agree, avril is timeless"

he laughs, setting his drink down and taking her hand. “you’re insane.”

“you love it.”

he does.

he really, really does.

he pulls her closer by the waist, resting his forehead against hers for a brief second. her hands settle gently on his shoulders. she’s still smiling — flushed and full of joy — and it’s so her that he almost forgets there are a dozen people around them.

“you’re so good at this,” he murmurs as they sway, loosely in rhythm with the beat.

“at what?”

“making me my worries disappear." she tilts her head, lips parting slightly, eyes searching his. “it feels easy with you.”

he smiles, leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “it’s supposed to be.”

and then he spins her.

poorly. so poorly.

she yelps and nearly crashes into him, laughing against his chest as he catches her.

“you’re actually awful at this,” she says through a laugh.

“i play hockey, not ballroom dance,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “but for you, i’ll do anything.”

she softens. leans into him as the bridge plays and the others join in — wives and husbands pairing off, dancing terribly to a 2000s pop-punk anthem like it’s a slow song at prom.

and in the middle of it all, auston holds her like she belongs there.

because she does.

and for a second — swaying with her in the backyard, surrounded by friends and warm lights and music — he thinks maybe, just maybe, this could be a life they build together.

her laughter, her hand in his, them. always.

the sun hangs lower in the sky now, casting a warm, amber hue over the backyard as the last of the bags are packed, coolers zipped up, and leftover snacks gathered. one by one, the couples filter out of the house, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, calling out see-you-soons and promises to make the next get-together even bigger.

steph pulls y/n into a tight hug just past the patio doors, the kind of hug that lingers, like they’re both aware this was more than just a weekend hangout — that it meant something.

“you better not disappear on me,” steph says into her ear, a soft smile curling against her cheek. “i expect texts, instagram stalking, and daily updates when you two make it official.”

y/n lets out a small laugh, but it’s a little too soft, a little too wistful. “you’ll be the first to know.”

steph pulls back, eyebrows lifting like she sees right through her. “i really hope you come to toronto.”

y/n's lips part. she wants to say me too. but it comes with so many moving pieces, so many fears.

before she can find the words, auston steps in behind her, his hand brushing the small of her back. “we’ll figure it out,” he says, firm but gentle, like it’s already decided. like she’s not alone in this decision.

steph catches his eye and gives him a knowing smile. “you better take care of her, matthews.”

“always,” he replies easily, gaze dipping to y/n like she’s the only thing that makes sense in this moment.

mitch crashes in next, pulling y/n into a hug that nearly lifts her off the floor. she lets out a surprised laugh, clutching his shoulders. “jesus, mitch, you’re stronger than you look.”

“i work out,” he says smugly, then softens. “hey, seriously… he really likes you. like really. you already know that, but i gotta say it just in case.”

her throat tightens. “i care about him too.”

he nods, all the usual goofiness gone. “then don’t let distance scare you off. some people are worth the work.”

y/n nods, barely able to reply before he pulls back and gives auston a slap on the chest. “she’s a keeper, tone.”

“i know,” auston says, voice low and sure.

and then they’re gone.

the door clicks shut. the laughter fades down the driveway. and suddenly, it’s quiet — achingly so.

y/n stands in the middle of the open-concept kitchen, arms folded gently, her gaze trailing across the now-empty wine glasses and abandoned flip-flops by the door. the echoes of a weekend filled with joy and comfort and something dangerously close to belonging still linger in the walls.

auston leans on the island behind her, watching her carefully.

“you okay?” he asks.

she nods once, then slowly turns to face him. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt so... involved. like not just a house or a weekend or a group. in it. like i was part of something.”

he moves closer, his voice softer. “you were.”

she exhales, her hands sliding into her pockets. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt like this with anyone. not even close.”

auston’s jaw tightens. not with fear, but with understanding. “it’s different with us.”

“yeah,” she whispers, “that’s the scary part.”

he nods, stepping into her space. “what scares you more? how fast this is, or how right it feels?”

her eyes lift to meet his, searching.

“both,” she admits. “it’s like… you fit. but everything else doesn’t. my life’s here, my job, my family. and you—”

“i’m there,” he finishes for her.

she looks at him, voice barely above a breath. “how do we figure that out?”

he reaches out, fingers grazing her wrist before taking her hand completely, grounding her.

“i don’t have the answer yet,” he says honestly. “but i know i want to. i know i have to.”

she looks down at their hands, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “what if we try, and it’s too hard?”

“you will never be too hard for me. where you are.”

she lifts her eyes again. and the weight of what they’re feeling — what they are — hangs between them.

auston takes a step forward, close enough for her to feel his breath.

“you make me want to be somewhere and someone,” he murmurs. “that’s not nothing, y/n. that’s everything.”

she doesn’t reply — can’t, not without crying. instead, she rests her forehead against his chest, his arms curling around her.

and for a moment, the quiet isn’t heavy anymore. it’s still, full, patient. the kind of silence that only settles between two people who feel something real and are still figuring out how to hold it.

they won’t say goodbye. not this after this weekend.

they just stay there, wrapped up in each other in a house that’s suddenly too big and too quiet and yet still feels like the start of something they’ll both remember.

forever.

their evening wound down the way it always did when it was just them.

his arm slung lazily over her waist, fingers tucked into the space between her body and the couch like he needed her close. her legs tangled with his under the soft throw blanket, the cotton worn and familiar against bare skin. the flickering light of the tv cast soft shadows across the room, painting their skin in muted tones as love island buzzed quietly in the background — chaotic british accents and villa dramatics filling the silence like white noise.

they were curled up on the sectional in the dim quiet of the house — finally alone, finally still. no karaoke. no barbecue smoke. no mitch chirping them from across the patio. just them. just this.

the house was theirs until tomorrow evening — a quiet gift from their friends who had helped clean and clear out before leaving. all they had left to do was exist together, unwind after a weekend full of people and noise and heat.

auston shifted slightly, drawing her even closer, his palm slipping under the hem of her sweatshirt to rest warm and firm against the bare dip of her back.

“this is what i’ve been waiting for,” he murmured, voice low and thick as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

she smiled into his chest, cheek nestled against him. “what, twenty-year-olds yelling about bombshells and loyalty and girl code?”

he huffed a soft laugh, chest rising beneath her. “no. just you. me. nobody else.”

the silence stretched comfortably — not heavy, but intimate. until another dramatic fight broke out on screen and y/n stirred, shifting to sit up slightly. her hair was tousled from his hoodie, her cheeks still flushed from the wine they’d been sipping. she looked soft, open — like every nerve had been soothed by just being near him.

she turned to him, voice barely above a whisper. “can i say something?”

he was already looking at her. “when has that ever stopped you?”

she rolled her eyes but bit her lip, fingers toying with the gold chain around his neck. her voice dropped a little lower, almost shy.

“you looked really hot playing yesterday. and i can’t stop thinking about it.”

his lips tugged into a slow, crooked smirk. “oh yeah?”

“unfairly hot,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “the pads. the speed. the confidence. you looked so in your element — like nothing could touch you.”

he sat up a little straighter, tilting his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. “didn’t know hockey did it for you.”

she shrugged. “didn’t either. but apparently, it does. or maybe it’s just you.”

“hmm.” he leaned in, eyes flicking to her mouth. “so me in pads turns you on.”

her fingers tugged lightly at his chain, pulling him a little closer. “more than it should.”

he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating between them, and then — as if he couldn’t take another second — he reached for her waist and lifted her into his lap like it was nothing. her knees bracketing his hips, her thighs pressing into the sides of him. her hands found his shoulders as she straddled him, her eyes already half-lidded.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he said, brushing the hair back from her face.

“you’re the one pulling me into your lap,” she shot back, breath already quickening.

he kissed her then — slow at first, sweet and unhurried. but it deepened quickly, the tension that had been simmering all weekend finally catching fire. her hands slid into the curls at the nape of his neck, and her hips rolled against his thigh without thinking.

he broke the kiss just enough to speak, his voice wrecked. “i wanted to wait. i wanted to take care of you the way you deserve. slow. but you don’t want that… do you, hmm?”

she blinked at him, already breathless, lips parted.

“my dirty, impatient girl,” he murmured, lips brushing hers. “can’t finish the weekend without me making you come. so desperate.”

her only response was a shaky exhale, her fingers tightening in his shirt.

his grip on her waist stayed steady, grounding, guiding. she was already rocking against him — small, deliberate motions that turned into something more desperate with each pass.

“that’s it,” he whispered against her ear, the grit in his voice making her whole body tense. “feel what you’re doing to me?”

she nodded fast, but he stilled her again with a squeeze to her waist.

“words, baby.”

“yes,” she gasped. “yes.”

he kissed her jaw, his lips trailing down her neck. “look at you. riding my thigh like it’s the only thing that matters. so fucking needy for it.”

a sound caught in her throat — half-moan, half-whimper — and it spurred him on.

“been wanting this since the moment i saw you again. you on top of me. falling apart.” his hands dragged under her sweatshirt, fingers skating up the warm skin of her back.

she arched into him, hips stuttering. “auston…”

he kissed the shell of her ear. “say it. say you like me in control.”

“i do,” she moaned. “i love it.”

“yeah?” his hands dropped to her ass, pulling her tighter against the hard muscle of his thigh. “you love working yourself on me like a desperate little thing?”

she was trembling now, breath hitching, mouth finding his neck. her teeth scraped lightly across his pulse.

“please,” she whispered. “please, i need it…”

“not yet,” he said, dragging it out. “you don’t get to until i say so.”

she was soaked through the thin barrier of her shorts — and he could feel it. the heat, the pressure, the way she was losing control right there on his lap.

“you close, baby?” he asked, lips brushing her temple.

“y-yeah,” she whimpered. “so close.”

“then come for me,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “show me who you belong to.”

it only took one more slow roll of her hips — one more deliberate press of his thigh — and she was unraveling. her body tensed, a gasp catching in her throat before she collapsed against him, shaking with the waves of her release.

he held her through it, hands stroking her back, lips brushing her temple.

“there she is,” he murmured. “my pretty girl.”

and even breathless, boneless, still trembling — she managed to lift her head, dazed but grinning. “you’re evil.”

he laughed, eyes roaming her face. “and you’re perfect.”

she shifted in his lap, cheeks flushed, still catching her breath.

“i’ve never done that before,” she whispered, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “but then again, i’ve never met someone with legs like yours.”

he let out a full, belly-deep laugh, chest shaking under her. “huge, huh?”

“ridiculous,” she muttered, smiling against his skin. “you have a lot of real estate, matthews.”

he cupped her ass, still cocky. “i am a professional athlete, baby.”

“god, shut up,” she groaned, dropping her head back with a laugh. “your thighs are basically a public hazard.”

he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, smirking. “you weren't complaining when i watched you soak my thigh, baby.”

she blinked up at him, eyes soft again. “can you blame me?”

“no,” he said honestly. “you look gorgeous when you come.”

she snuggled in closer, and he shifted them on the couch, grabbing the remote to restart the episode. but when she shivered slightly, he stood — arms sliding under her thighs and back like instinct.

“you’re not walking up those stairs.”

“why not?”

“‘cause i don’t trust your legs right now,” he grinned.

and she giggled, helpless and lovestruck as he carried her — steady and sure — up the stairs. her arms looped around his neck. her lips kissed under his jaw. and he didn’t let her go until she was laid gently in his bed, tucked under the covers, his arm thrown over her like he didn’t ever want to be anywhere else.

she was already half-asleep, but she heard him whisper it — barely above the hush of the night.

“i’d wait forever for you.”

and in the quiet that followed, her fingers reached for his and squeezed.

a simple touch. but something about the way his hand tightened around hers — firm, steady, without hesitation — made her heart twist.

it hit her then, quietly, in the space between breaths.

he wasn’t just talking about now. not just the soft stillness of this night, or the heat of her skin under his hands. he meant something deeper.

he meant the days he’d be away. the long stretches where she wouldn’t wake up to him, wouldn’t hear his voice except through a phone. he meant the quiet ache of distance, of missing each other in ways that made your chest hollow out.

he meant the kind of waiting that wasn’t easy — the kind that asked for patience, for trust, for choosing each other even when it would be simpler not to.

and she realized: he was already choosing her.

every time. in every way.

and suddenly, that promise felt bigger than the room. bigger than the moment. like something she might carry in her chest for the rest of her life.

she blinked, swallowed the lump in her throat, and whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear:

“i’d wait for you too.”

and she meant it. every word.

next

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[m34tthews]

CHAPTER FIVE

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 9.1k

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — i am sorry for the late post! i was working on this chapter and the next one simultaneously. thank you for your patience 🩵

masterlist

he’d asked her the week before — early evening, back when the air still clung to spring and the sun dipped low and sleepy through his blinds.

they were on his couch, feet tangled under a fleece blanket, half-watching a movie neither of them could name. she was tucked under his arm, the same way she always ended up without thinking. one of his fingers was lazily tracing the hem of her shorts, and the other cradled a nearly empty glass of wine. and then, so casually she almost missed it, he asked.

“you’ll come stay with me for memorial day weekend, right?”

she blinked, looking up at him. “what?”

he grinned down at her, easy and warm. “the weekend. memorial day. we’re renting a place out near the lake — me, my family, mitch, some of the boys. you should come.”

her stomach dipped, just a little. “your friends?”

“yeah.” his voice lit up like it always did when he talked about them. “some are already here — the arizona guys — but mitch and steph are flying in, and maybe tyce too. willy’s still back in sweden, and morgan’s doing the dad thing at the cottage, but everyone else is coming.”

he kissed her forehead, then muttered into her skin, “i want my people finally get to meet you.”

she didn’t answer right away. just smiled, soft and small, and curled back into him — like the motion could shield her from the quiet unraveling already blooming in her chest.

because he meant it. his people. the ones who knew him in locker rooms and buses, after wins and losses and nights that blurred together. the ones who loved him in ways she hadn’t even begun to touch.

and suddenly, the idea of showing up felt bigger than she’d let herself think about.

she spent the next few days nodding along as he told her about the plans — the grill setup, the speaker rotation, the inflatable chairs he and michael had blown up the wrong way. he was excited. so excited. and she didn’t want to ruin that.

but the truth was — she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would mean to be seen.

not just by auston — he already saw her, all the messy, aching parts. no, it was being seen with him. beside him. through the eyes of people who had history, who carried stories and context and comparison.

the spiral was slow. quiet. built itself in the back of her throat.

she knew the invite wasn’t loaded — auston wasn’t the type to pressure. but still, it felt like a new page. like stepping from one version of them into another. and maybe that was what scared her. not the people, not the newness — but what it meant to show up anyway. because showing up meant wanting to stay. and wanting to stay meant risking the part of herself she’d kept safe.

still, sometime between wednesday and saturday, the ache of missing him had settled deeper than the fear. not loud or overwhelming — just a quiet pull she couldn’t shake. it had been a few days since she’d seen him, a stretch filled with vague texts and blurry photos: pool setups, folding chairs, beer coolers, and a bunch of faces she’d only ever heard about in stories. he’d been busy setting everything up at the rental house for the long weekend, surrounded by the local guys from arizona, waiting for the rest to fly in.

mitch was coming in with steph — the best friend and the best friend’s wife, the couple she’d heard so much about she could envision how much they meant to auston. she could picture it all too clearly — the buzz of activity in the house, the smell of sunscreen and grill smoke, the sound of auston’s voice carrying through the yard while music thumped from a speaker he probably spent too long curating a playlist for. it was his world. and for a second, she worried about stepping into it. about not fitting into the shape of his life when he wasn’t alone in it.

what if she didn’t belong in his world?

still — saturday morning came like it always did. and with it, a text:

auston <3 are you still up for today? some already here, rest are coming up later no pressure. just say the word

she stared at it for too long, her toothbrush hanging limply from one hand. her phone buzzed again before she could even think of a reply.

auston <3 don't overthink this. i want you here and maybe wear something showing skin ;)

and that — somehow — that cracked at her resolve.

not the invite. not the reassurance. but that. the little thread of him that always knew how to find her when she was upset. the kind of softness that said he wanted her there — not for show, not for proof — but because he missed her.

so she exhaled. rinsed her mouth and decided to go.

getting ready felt like threading a needle blindfolded — just the right balance of effort and ease. nothing too done, nothing careless. she pulled on denim mom shorts and a soft white tank, the hem just brushing her ribs. over it, she tugged on his hoodie — the grey one he’d let her keep, the one that still smelled like cedar and warmth and whatever detergent his mom probably swore by.

she twisted her hair into a loose clip, added lip gloss and mascara, and lingered too long at her reflection.

you’re fine, she told herself. he wants you there. that’s enough.

but the nerves buzzed anyway — not loud, just steady, just present.

when she finally slid into the car, the air was thick with heat, the kind that made her legs stick to the seat and her pulse skip. the GPS ticked down the distance, each mile closer folding her tighter into the question of what if.

but all of that — the noise, the second-guessing — dissolved the moment she pulled up and saw him.

because there he was. out by the drive, half-shadowed by the tall trees, standing barefoot in the gravel, his hair messy from sleep or humidity or both. a cold drink in one hand, his phone in the other. white tee, black shorts, gold chain glinting in the sun.

he hadn’t seen her yet. he was laughing at something someone had said just inside the open garage, one hand lifting to scratch behind his ear.

and god — she forgot what her nerves even were.

because seeing him like that — unfiltered, unaware — that was the world she wanted to belong to.

hers slowed down. the music playing in the background faded into something far away. and when he turned — when his eyes met hers across the gravel and his whole face broke into that boyish, radiant grin — everything else settled.

he walked toward her, golden with a bright energy surrounding him.

and just like that, her anxiety didn’t vanish — but it melted away. softened. tucked itself somewhere quiet.

because he felt like home. and he was already walking straight to her.

she hadn't even realized she'd opened the car door until he was there, tugging it the remaining distance and bending in with that smile — the one she hadn't seen in the flesh for too long, the one that made her forget how to breathe.

"you came," he said, voice low and warm, like it wasn't apparent, like she hadn't driven here with a heart full of him.

she smiled, already stepping out. "you asked."

his arms were around her before her feet hit the gravel. his phone and drink were abandoned on the hood of a nearby truck as he wrapped himself around her, his bare arms brushing against her arms, feet quiet crunching underneath them.

"missed you," he mumbled into her neck, one hand rising to cup the back of her head.

"It's been, like, three days," she breathed, laughing a little.

"exactly," he said, backing up far enough to look at her — really look at her. "that's too long."

her heart performed the familiar, traitorous thud.

"you smell like chlorine," she teased softly, brushing a damp curl away from his forehead.

he grinned. "been setting up all day. trying to get everything perfect before everyone gets here and starts yelling at me about grill placement."

"very serious business," she said wryly.

"life or death," he agreed, kissing her cheek. "come on, i want to give you the tour."

he intertwined their fingers like nothing, like he hadn't just changed the whole rhythm of her weekend with one touch. and she walked with him along the gravel path towards the side of the house, by open coolers and a partially assembled corn hole setup.

“tyce!” auston called out, nodding toward a tall, easy-looking guy near the side fence who was flipping burgers on a small grill. “this is her.”

tyce turned, flipped the spatula into one hand and grinned. “the her?”

auston didn’t even blink. “the one and only”

she blushed, but offered a small wave. “hi.”

“heard a lot,” tyce said, wiping his hand on a towel and reaching to shake hers. “all good things.”

"well that's suspicious," she said smiling, looking up at auston.

"accurate though," he said smugly, squeezing her hand.

they didn't linger — just long enough for her to meet freddie too, who was perched on a patio chair sipping a beer, looking like summer personified in board shorts and sunglasses.

"he's the one that brings the good wine," auston muttered under his breath as they waved.

freddie simply tipped his bottle in their direction. "and the sage advice. you ever need help in setting him straight, you know who to call."

"duly noted," she laughed.

and then auston was drawing her gently inside, past the open back doors and through the still cool of the rental home. it smelled of sunscreen and fresh laundry, a bit of grill smoke. the floorboards creaked underfoot as they moved down the hallway.

he opened a door near the end, making her precede him.

the room was bare but cozy — queen bed, windows open to allow the breeze in, one of her bags already placed in the corner next to a hoodie she hadn't seen him steal back.

"i saved this one for us," he said, softer now, voice at the back of her. "it gets the most light in the morning. i know you like to get up with the sun."

she turned to him.

"you always meant for me to stay?" she said, surprised even though she had no right to be.

his hand found its way to her waist, thumb brushing against the band of skin above her shorts. "of course, i did. i needed you here."

her breath hitched a little. not from fear, this time — from the way he said it, the way he looked at her like it was the most simple truth in the world.

"you certain i won't disturb the team dynamic?" she bantered, trying not to let the air in the room get too heavy.

he stepped in, resting his forehead against hers. "the only dynamics i care about are right here."

her mouth curved upwards. "you're such a loverboy."

"only for you." he smiled.

and there, in the quiet of that sun-filled room, she let herself relax. just for a moment. let herself lean into his chest and his arms wrap around her once again. let herself think, if only for the weekend, that she was supposed to be here — in this house, in this moment, with him.

outside, she could hear the far-off thrum of music restarting, voices rising up in the backyard. but inside, all she could hear was the thud of his heartbeat under her ear and the gentleness of his voice when he whispered, "welcome to my world."

and just like that, she didn't feel like a stranger anymore.

downstairs, the house buzzed with heat and chatter — somebody was stacking plates in the kitchen, several couples milled about with drinks in hand, and another bernedoodle slept near the back door.

felix spotted her before she'd so much as had time to call his name.

he hurtled across the wood floor like a bowling ball with legs, tail thumping and claws scrambling as he all but flung himself into her legs.

"awh you missed me, huh, felix" she laughed, bending to hug him.

"he's been sitting by the door since ten a.m.," a voice she knew drawled, easy, affectionate.

she smiled up and there was auston's dad was there with a red cup in one hand, looking older than she remembered, but just the same in every way that mattered. same gentle eyes. same soft, solid voice.

"mr. matthews," she said, rising to her feet.

"brian," he corrected, smiling. "and good to see you again. is your dad still coaching this weekend"

"probably yelling at the refs as we speak," she said, earning a warm laugh from him.

"some things never change," he said, his eyes sparkling.

she had no opportunity to reply before a second voice rang down the hallway — teasing, a little too loud, completely familiar.

she had no opportunity to reply before a second voice rang down the hallway — teasing, a little too loud, completely familiar.

“y/n?”

she barely had time to turn before alex came skidding around the corner, barefoot in a sundress, wine glass in hand. her eyes lit up the second they landed on her.

“oh my god, look at you!” alex rushed forward and wrapped her into a hug so tight it knocked the air from her lungs. “how has it been, like, six years?”

“seven, maybe,” y/n laughed, hugging her back. “your hair’s so long now.”

“and yours looks so pretty. i’m obsessed. come out back—mom’s been asking about you all morning.”

“seriously?”

“seriously. she told me to go find you. like i don’t have my own plans to get drunk by the pool.”

y/n laughed, eyes wide. “i haven’t seen her in—”

but then, the sliding door creaked open, and there she was.

ema.

“there she is,” ema said, smiling like she’d just run into an old friend at the market, not the girl who was wrapped around her son just thirty minutes ago. “i’ve been waiting to get my hands on you.”

y/n blinked, frozen for a second, unsure whether to brace for formality or pretend she hadn’t been upstairs giggling in auston’s hoodie. “mrs. matthews—”

“ema or tia,” she interrupted with a wink, already pulling her in for a hug. “don’t you dare call me, mrs. matthews. god, you look just like your mother.”

y/n melted a little into the hug, stunned at how familiar she still smelled—clean perfume and something floral. the kind of hug that said she’d always been welcome here.

“i can't believe i watched you grow up. your mom and i still go for coffee every other week. she shows me every picture you send her.”

y/n flushed instantly. “oh god.”

ema laughed, eyes twinkling. “and you always take such great care of felix at his appointments.”

“he’s a sweetheart,” y/n defended, reaching to scratch felix behind the ears again. “just misunderstood.”

“mmhm. just like my son.”

that made y/n blush even harder.

ema patted her cheek fondly. “you should come by the house one morning you're. just us. i’ll make coffee and we can swap mom gossip. now that you’re dating my son”—she smiled, wide—“i think that makes us overdue.”

“oh,” y/n said softly, caught between flustered and touched. “i’d really like that.”

“good. it’s settled.”

and as ema disappeared back into the kitchen, calling something to brian about the grill, y/n stood there for a second too long, warm all over.

"i've been meaning to ask you," bre said, taking the space infront of her where her mom was. "your scrubs? the green ones? you were wearing them that time i saw you visit campus — so cute."

y/n smiled. "i'll send you the link. i have a discount code too."

"please do. i need some that don't feel like sandpaper," bre groused.

"i got you." she nudged the youngest matthews with a smile.

auston, still beside her, smiled at the sight of it — his sisters falling into easy rhythm with her, like the years hadn't touched any of it. he didn't say anything, just nudged his thumb gently over her knuckles, grounding them both.

"i wasn’t kidding when i said mom's been talking about you all morning," alex said, guiding her towards the backyard. "and i'm not just saying that."

"really?"

"really," bre nodded. "you're, like, all auston talks about."

y/n glanced at auston, who didn't so much as flinch. "she's dramatic."

"am i?" bre sneered.

"you are," he deadpanned, drawing y/n closer anyway. "but you are alright. i am obsessed with her."

her face flamed, but she didn't let go of his hand.

he leaned in, close enough for her ears alone. "you good?"

she nodded, glancing around the space — the backyard strung with lights, the big table under the patio already full of snacks, friends scattered in groups and calling greetings.

“yeah,” she murmured, quieter. “you were right.”

“about?”

“i don’t need to be nervous.”

he smiled, brushing a kiss against her hairline. “nope. you’ve got me.”

and with his hand in hers, she let herself believe it.

auston barely made it through the first round of chips and beer before he started to crash — the full-body kind of tired that came after a morning spent hauling chairs, fussing over playlists, and fielding questions about cooler placement.

his arm slung heavier around her shoulders, his head dipping closer until she felt the brush of his nose against her temple. “might need a nap before dinner,” he murmured, voice low and scratchy. she smiled, already tugging him gently by the hand. upstairs, she let him lead the way, both of them slipping back into the quiet like it was second nature.

an hour later, she slipped out of bed gently, the way you move when someone’s arms are still around you — slow and careful, like untangling yourself from a dream.

auston stirred but didn’t wake fully. he grumbled something under his breath and shifted onto his back, hand reaching briefly for where she’d been, before he sunk into the mattress again. peaceful and slack-jawed. his curls were tousled from the pillow, and the weight of sleep softened every sharp line of his face. it made her smile.

she padded across the room to her bag, pulling it open and sorting through what she’d packed. there it was — the sundress, pale and delicate, the one with the corseted bodice and thin, ribbon straps that always made her feel pretty in the summer heat. she’d nearly left it behind, unsure if it was too much, but something in her gut told her to bring it. maybe for this very reason — tonight, when she knew she’d be around people who meant something to auston.

she tucked it over her arm and headed to the en-suite to shower. the water was warm and cleansing, and the hum of quiet upstairs made everything feel like it existed in a pocket outside the rest of the world. like this was their little place — just for the weekend, just for now.

when she emerged in a cloud of steam, towel wrapped around her torso, she peeked back into the bedroom to see auston still sprawled on the bed, the comforter kicked halfway off his legs and his arms spread like he was waiting to hold her again.

“still asleep?” she whispered to herself, tiptoeing past.

she dressed quickly in the bathroom, the corset lacing snugly against her ribs, flaring into soft fabric that brushed against the tops of her thighs. it was understated but romantic, and as she pulled her hair back and leaned over the counter to do her makeup, she felt a flicker of nerves for the first time in a while.

she was meeting his people. his friends. people who saw sides of him she didn’t yet know — versions of him from locker rooms and road trips and off-ice banter. but she’d seen her own versions of auston, too. sleepy and sweet. soft-spoken and clingy. curled around her in bed like she was something he didn’t want to let go of.

as she ran a brush under her cheekbone, eyes focused in the mirror, she didn’t hear him come in — not until a warm arm slid around her waist from behind.

“you’re up,” she murmured, startled, lips twitching.

“barely.” his voice was husky with sleep, eyes half-lidded as he pressed his face into her bare shoulder. “you left me cold and alone.”

“you were dead to the world,” she said, laughing as he tightened his arms around her.

“didn’t mean you could sneak off looking like this,” he said, letting his hands splay against the corset. “jesus.”

she rolled her eyes. “i wanted to look nice.”

he leaned his weight into her back slightly, still nuzzled into her. “you better than nice. you look unreal, baby.”

she picked up her mascara wand, trying to ignore the way her skin buzzed under his touch. “you’re just saying that because you’re half asleep.”

he shook his head, slow and sure. “nah. i’m saying it ‘cause it’s true.”

she met his eyes in the mirror, and he smiled at her — a slow, crooked thing that made her stomach warm.

“you gonna get ready too?” she asked, brushing through her lashes.

“don’t need to. i’ll just stand next to you and let people be jealous.”

“that’s your plan?” she snorted.

“mmhm.” he kissed the back of her neck lazily. “also thought about taking this off you and pretending the party never existed.”

she laughed and elbowed him gently. “get dressed, matthews.”

he sighed dramatically, finally releasing her. “fine. but only because you are sexy when you tell me what to do.”

as he shuffled back toward his duffel, yawning and dragging a hand through his hair, she smiled at his reflection again. warm and slow.

this — the easy affection, the sleep-heavy clinginess, the way he couldn’t keep his hands off her even while brushing her teeth — this was the part that made her heart ache in the best way.

she didn’t know what the night would bring, but right now, standing barefoot in a sundress while he kissed her shoulder and called her beautiful like it was fact — it felt like enough.

y/n had only just reached halfway down the stairs when there was a voice calling out as if all day she had been expected.

"you must be y/n”

she turned around, startled — and found herself wrapped in a hug that reeked of vanilla and sunscreen and fresh laundry. blonde hair, gold earrings, warm hold — she must be steph, auston's other half's, other half.

“oh my god, hi,” steph said breathlessly, beaming as she stepped back to take y/n in. “you’re even prettier than the pictures. like, unfair levels of pretty. it’s actually crazy.”

y/n blinked, momentarily thrown. “uh—hi?”

steph laughed and slung her arm around the other woman's like they were old friends. "sorry. i'm steph. i get excited. mitch says it's a problem, but he married him anyway, so joke's on him. let's go out — we've all been dying to meet you."

before y/n could say another word, she was being softly tugged through the open floor plan living room, where people drifted in groups, plates in hand, cups clinking, and felix slept by the back door like a sentinel. y/n got the occasional look, some smiles. no judgment. only curiosity.

then, as if summoned, mitch popped into view from the patio — perched on the armrest of a lawn chair, sunglasses pushed into his curls. the second he saw her, he stood up, all animated limbs and wide-eyed grin.

“finally,” he grinned, pulling her into a hug like it was nothing. “you’re real.”

“uh, yeah,” y/n laughed, overwhelmed but strangely charmed. “i hope that’s not disappointing.”

"are you kidding?" mitch took a step back and motioned between her and steph. "he's been insufferable. like, the whole season. and we didn't even get to meet the mystery girl until now?"

steph nodded seriously next to her. "you were an idea in our head. now you're a woman."

"anyway," mitch continued, already scheming in his brain, "you're coming to the lake house this summer. no pressure, but also… extreme pressure."

"mitch," auston's voice behind her, low and half-scolding.

she glanced over just in time as he approached her at the bottom of the stairs — fresh shirt, curls still damp at the ends, sun on his chain. his arm hooking around her waist as he climbed up to stand next to her.

"they're intense," he breathed in her ear.

"they're sweet," she breathed in response.

"same thing," he said, then looked up at his best friend. "mitch. relax."

"can't. already in love with her," mitch said with a dry tone. "you blew it. she's ours now."

steph grinned. "good luck prying her away."

auston let out a sigh as if he'd lost a war for which he didn't care to lose, and y/n smiled, dropping into the space between them like it was where she belonged. it was easy. too easy, maybe. but not so easy that it scared her — not anymore.

because the way auston's fingers curled around her hip, fingers curled slightly inward, the way he checked in on her every other moment without saying a word, the way he relaxed a bit when he saw her smile — it all said one thing:

she wasn't just sitting with his people. she was being engulfed into his world.

and maybe she did not have the whole map yet. maybe there were still corners in his life that she did not know. but here, with their laughter encircling them, her skirt flying back, and his hand secure on her waist — it felt like the start of something. not just a weekend, but a chapter.

and she was happy to read every line.

the music picked up a little louder. not blaring, but loud enough to highlight the clinking of glasses and random laughter creeping into the house. dusk was stretched out across the patio, spilling gold onto the floorboards as y/n stepped back toward the bar cart that had been set on the kitchen island.

by the time more teammates started showing up and the music was turned up a notch, the house glowed with golden-hour laughter and the low hum of drinks being poured. y/n found herself perched on the outdoor sectional, a half-empty glass of sangria in hand, surrounded by steph and alex and a few of the guys’ partners, all of them glowing with that easy kind of charm that came from knowing they were part of something close-knit.

her cheeks were flushed, just slightly—not from the alcohol, but from the compliments auston’s sisters kept sneaking in.

“he never brought anyone around,” bre said over the rim of her wine, her words half-teasing but mostly real. “like ever. we honestly thought he was broken for a while.”

y/n laughed softly, trying to play it off, but her chest warmed. “that’s dramatic.”

“no, babe,” steph chimed in, nudging her gently, “you don’t get it. i’ve been around mitch forever. auston doesn’t date. not publicly. not even quietly.”

the words sat in her throat long after they moved on to something else. it wasn’t pressure—it just made her more aware of the weight of his gaze when she caught it from across the room.

and she did catch it.

he was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, a fresh drink in hand, long legs braced on either side, talking animatedly with mitch, joseph, matthew—and clayton. the rest of the arizona boys. god, they were endearing, but she only saw him.

his head tilted slightly when he noticed her watching. he didn’t grin or wink—just crooked a finger and beckoned her without saying a word.

like a magnet, she was already halfway across the room before she realized how eagerly she was moving. he didn’t even get down when she reached him. instead, he opened his legs and wordlessly pulled her into the space between, his hands resting low at her hips.

“how are you this pretty?” he murmured low, leaning in like it was just for her.

“how are you still sweaty?” she teased, tugging playfully at his collar.

“you like it,” he smirked, then tilted his chin, eyes flicking to her lips but still—still—not kissing her. “i was starting to think you were avoiding me, baby.”

“maybe i’m playing hard to get.”

“you’re doing a horrible job,” he whispered, nose brushing hers.

the heat between them was palpable, but before they could do more than breathe each other in, clayton’s voice cut through the air, clearly aware of the tension and ready to poke the bear.

“y/n, right?” he leaned over from where he stood near joseph, beer in hand and grin too easy. “you ever seen utah in the fall?”

auston didn’t move at his friends attempt to flirt with y/n. but his hold subtly tightened.

“can’t say i have,” y/n smiled politely.

“you should. come watch me play next season,” clayton said, eyes gleaming, clearly aiming for a rise. “i’m always around arizona, too. every offseason.”

“oh, so you’re the local playboy,” she said sweetly, but then looked up at auston again, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. “but i already have one of those.”

auston grinned, broad and boyish, and dipped down to kiss her cheek—not her lips, but almost. “that’s right.”

mitch hooted at that, laughing into his drink. “oh my god. auston matthews is whipped”

“shut up,” auston muttered, but didn’t pull away. instead, he bent a little closer to y/n’s ear, his voice low. “thanks for that.”

“what, standing up to your little hockey friends?”

“nah,” he murmured, “claiming me in front of everyone.”

her heart kicked in her chest, fast and giddy, and she leaned back to look at him, lips parted like she wanted to reply, but couldn’t quite form words.

“we’re not gonna kiss again in front of mitch,” he added, teasing. “dude’s been emotionally invested in this since you showed up.”

“maybe later,” she said, stepping back a little, brushing her fingers across his jaw before turning around and returning to the group with a subtle sway in her hips.

“we’ve heard about you,” joseph said, smile softer than mitch’s teasing one. “finally nice to put a face to the girl who’s been keeping matty distracted all summer.”

"you make it sound like i'm the bad influence," she exclaimed, lightly bumping auston's arm with her elbow. he still held his hand wrapped around her wrist gently.

"seriously, we're just amazed you exist," matt knies added, taking a swig from his red solo cup. "he doesn't normally… do this."

"do what?"

"bring girls around," joseph answered, voice easy. "let alone invite them to a team hangout."

“anyway, welcome. he’s better when you’re around. a little less moody. a little more tolerable.” mitch winked.

“thanks, mitch,” auston said dryly. “appreciate it.”

they all laughed, but it was matthew who stepped in next, flipping his hat backward. “so you’re from arizona too, right?”

“yeah. born and raised,” she said, leaning into auston’s side when his arm curled instinctively around her waist. “i work at the clinic down the street from here actually.”

“and you’ve never been to a game?” matthew asked, brows raising.

“not once.”

at her words, the group actually went quiet.

“wait,” mitch said, putting his drink down. “you’ve… never seen auston play?”

“i knew he played but i never cared for hockey" she continued , feeling embrassed at the eyes on her.

joseph choked on his beer. mitch looked like he’d been hit with a revelation.

“i love you,” mitch told her sincerely. “this is so humbling. might be the greatest thing i’ve ever heard.”

auston merely smiled quietly behind her, eyes shining.

"okay but now i sort of want to. you guys make me feel like i'm missing out," she joked.

"don't feel pressured," auston said, voice lighthearted but a little frantic.

"you totally should," clayton said at the same time. "your boy here can't stop scoring. even his rookie stats are insne"

she peeked at auston, interest dancing. "rookie stats, huh?"

he held his head and squeezed her hip. "later."

"i feel like somewhere there is a story," she said.

“you’ll hear all of them eventually,” joseph assured her.

“just know you’re in good hands. tone's one of the bets guys i know” clayton added, smirking. “looks like he can score on and off the ice too.”

auston gave him a look—one that was more amused than annoyed—and pulled y/n closer, leaning down until his lips were near her ear.

“you okay?” he asked low, just for her. like always.

she nodded slowly, eyes still flitting between the group. “yeah. just… it’s a lot. in a good way.”

"we can get some air soon," he whispered to her. "just tell me." "i kind of like seeing you like this," she replied, craning her head back to look up at him. "with your friends. makes it real."

his jaw softened, the tension in his shoulders decreasing. "it is."

she smiled, then turned back to the group, already feeling more cozied up than she'd expected.

and the whole time, auston didn't let go.

she had been smiling a minute or so earlier. leaning against auston's kitchen counter with a glass of sangria that was mostly ice and fruit now, cheeks flushed with wine and sun and the warmth of being wrapped into a conversation that, for a moment, made her feel like she belonged.

his teammates were friendly, curious, unguarded the way close-knit people generally were. mitch talked fast, with his hands, and looked genuinely shocked that she had never heard of a power play. joseph had been more subdued but still offered her chips. matthew had engaged her in a conversation of desert temperatures versus toronto weather, which naturally devolved into an argument over what the appropriate way to take coffee was.

and auston—he'd stuck with her through it all, a steady warmth, fingers following the curve of her waist from time to time as though he couldn't help it. he never crossed lines, didn't push her, but he was there. always there.

and yet.

she hadn't even noticed it at first, not when steph smiled and called auston "matty" with the same ease of a man who'd known him his whole life, or his sisters throwing around child-hood in-jokes, or his casually bringing up a last season story about auston snapping a stick over the glass by accident.

it was when clayton said something earlier along the lines of, "he was a nightmare his first year—insanely good, but so intense. the whole was like, who is this arizona kid with the wrist shot from hell?" that it resonated.

she did not know the stories. any of them. not even the basic ones.

she was not a part of this

auston had escorted felix beforehand. he'd opened the door and stepped out as if he'd lived there, as if he'd known these people, this existence—and he had. this wasn't new to him. but she was still the girl from the clinic. the one who'd lived her whole life in arizona. the one who'd never even seen an nhl game until she'd searched for him weeks ago, stomach in flips over reddit threads where he'd been praised for skill and. other qualities.

the men laughed, the atmosphere still jovial, but beneath, she was steeling herself. it wasn't embarrassment—it was the insidious realization that she was an outsider. she was the anomaly. the one who'd slipped away once and perhaps was never supposed to truly come back.

the air outside was cooler then, the sun dipping below the horizon's edge, bathing the backyard in a soft lavender. laughter still clung inside—low and comforting and smoky with tales she did not understand, names she knew only loosely, memories shaped before she'd ever been anything to auston.

she sat on the edge of one of the deck chairs, arms wrapped around her, her drink somewhere in the kitchen. it wasn't that they'd been mean to her. they'd been friendly, warm, curious. it was that she didn't know how to be part of talk about trade rumors and practice shootouts and some bachelor escapade they all shared two summers ago.

the deeper she fell into his world, the more she realized how little she really knew of it.

and it stung. more than she dared admit.

the door slid open once again quietly, but she did not turn. she already knew it was him.

his footsteps walked softly across the wood, then stopped behind her. "hey," auston said quietly. "here you are."

she continued to look forward, watching the trees bend with the wind.

he stepped up beside her, not touching her but simply standing. "what is it about backyards and us?"

a small puff of air leaked through her nose. "they're the only places we ever get quiet."

he sat down beside her, knees wide apart, forearms on his thighs. "you have been quiet."

she shrugged and hardly moved. "i'm fine."

he tilted his head, incredulous. "no, you're not. i have sisters"

there was silence between them. the kind that felt heavy. she didn't want to make this about something. not tonight, here. but she felt. loose. as if she'd traveled too far down a path that wasn't ever going to make room for her.

finally, she spoke, low and even-toned, "you fill up every space you enter."

auston turned his head towards her, confused.

she looked at her hands. "i don't. not here."

"y/n—"

"i’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” she interrupted gently, “i’m just saying it because it’s true. i didn’t grow up with this. i didn’t grow up around hockey. i've never even seen snow. my whole world is the vet clinic and dry heat and babysitting. and now i’m here, at this house, in a room full of people who know everything about you. your teammates, your sisters, your friends. they’ve seen you win. lose. bleed. get hurt. get honored. they were there. i wasn’t.”

he sat in silence, letting the words sink in.

"and it isn't jealousy," she added quickly. "it's just… it's hard to believe that the you i know—the you who throws his dog treats and sleeps with his face in my neck and can’t go a few minutes without holding me—is the same guy they're talking about in there."

auston exhaled deeply. "you think those are two different people?"

she gazed at him, really looked at him. "i don't know, auston. i don't know who captain of the maple leafs auston matthews is. i hardly know who the guy in those stories is. and i think… that's beginning to scare me."

he whirled around so he could see her more fully, talking in a gentler tone than she'd ever heard him use.

"you know me better than anyone."

she shook her head in protest, but he wasn't letting her.

"you do. you know the me i don't let people see. you see me when i'm quiet. when i'm burnt out. when i'm curled up on a vet's office bench because felix is sick and i can't think straight. when i'm half-asleep and still trying to find your hand under the sheets. you know me in silence, and that means more than anything out loud."

she blinked, throat tight.

"i love hockey. i love my team. i'm proud of everything i've done, everything i've built. but none of that means a damn thing without someone to come home to."

her lips parted fractionally, but no words were spoken.

auston leaned in, tucking a strand of hair back from her cheek. "when i'm seeing you in my home, in my shirt, sleeping in my arms… that's the part of my life that feels real. the rest of it? it's wonderful. it still suprises me. but until i met you, it wasn't home."

she didn't know how to answer. her heart pounded in her chest, and her fingers curled into her lap like they might be able to keep her anchored.

he edged closer. "you don't need to know the entire ins and outs of the game. or of my past. you simply need to want to stick around long enough to keep learning me. and i'll learn you too."

her eyes were glassy now, rimmed with tears. “and what if i’m not enough for that?”

his expression didn’t falter. “you already are.”

a shaky breath left her lips. “i just don’t want to be something temporary.”

he moved, slow and steady, until he was kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees. “then don’t be.”

their eyes met—hers wide and unsure, his steady and soft.

he drew one of her hands into his, laying a kiss on her knuckles. "you didn't get away from me. not this time."

and that… that was when she allowed herself to believe him. even just a little.

she crouched down, their foreheads brushing, and for one moment, how much the party reeled on within didn't matter. all that mattered was the hush between them—the backyard, dusk's stillness, and him holding her like he meant it.

like he'd just keep on meaning it. each and every day.

they floated back into the hum of the house, the music muffled and the air filled with soft conversation, warm skin, and the scent of sangria and lemons. the kitchen had ballooned out even more, the tempo of the party moving into that second part of the night where no one felt like moving anywhere.

auston gave her hand a squeeze once before releasing it, depositing a brief kiss on the corner of her lips as he slipped by. it wasn't forced, but rather habitual. but the instant his lips peeled away from her flesh, the three women walking towards them let out a simultaneous gasp of excitement as y/n drew near.

"okay, that was adorable," one of them whispered to the rest of them as they smiled smugly at y/n.

steph smiled wide, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “you have got to tell us everything. i’ve known auston for almost a decade and i’ve never seen him act like that.”

y/n laughed nervously, tucking into the circle with her own glass of sangria, now a little watered down with melted ice. “there’s not that much to tell.”

"please," sarah said, having been presented as joseph woll's girlfriend. "auston texting the guys about a girl was already shocking enough. the man you walked in with? is definitely was a boyfriend."

the group had a good laugh, and y/n could do nothing but shake her head, face flushing.

"so how did you guys meet?" one of them asked, curious but friendly.

y/n darted a glance over her shoulder—barely a fraction of a second, just a flicker—before auston was already on the other side of the room, chatting with some teammates by the kitchen island. still lingering, though. his gaze caught hers through the sea of people and he smiled before returning to conversation.

"we kind of always knew each others ," she started out slowly. "i am from scottsdale too. i remember going to his coyote-themed birthday parties with the rest of our class."

"no way," sarah smiled.

"yeah," y/n smiled softly. "but we weren't really friends or anything. i don't even know if he knew me at that age. we ran in different crowds."

"until?" steph asked.

"until the summer of senior year summer. we had a kickback party at someone's place. the 'we're seniors now' sort of thing. i was dating this guy then—trent—and he and auston were actually friends."

"oh, no," steph complained, laughing into her mug. "that never goes well."

"tell me about," y/n grinned. "we weren't besties, but we started hanging out more because of trent. classes, parties, games. auston was…" she scrunched up her nose. "sweet, and my boyfriend was kind of a dick."

"understatement of the year," auston's voice came from behind her, abrupt and silky.

y/n jumped, nearly spilling her drink, and spun around to see him standing there with a full glass held in his hand. he handed it to her with a tipped grin before sitting down beside her on the couch, one arm slung over the back, leg against hers.

"listening in now?" she asked, grinning.

"just good timing." he looked at the others and added, "we became friends too late if you ask me but i didn't really have time with hockey and baseball."

"so after you guys became friends, why'd you date the other guy?" sarah inquired with interest, sipping her drink.

y/n stared into her glass, stirring the red liquid. "truthfully? he asked me and i didn't want to turn him down."

there was a pause. then steph whistled. "brutal."

"you're not wrong," y/n smirked.

"they were awful together," auston contributed, mouth spasming into a little smile.

she turned toward him with narrowed eyes. “really? because i remember you being the absolute worst when trent and i kissed under the bleachers.”

his eyebrows arched. "you mean the time i accidentally let mr. scott know you skipped fifth period?"

"we were seniors. i got one stupid decision in."

auston grinned, shifting in close enough to fill the space between them, his voice dropping. "and skipping class multiple times between periods doesn't count?"

she elbowed his shoulder, laughing, but he caught her wrist as she attempted to step back and nipped her side gently, and she squeaked.

"i hated that guy," he owned practically.

"you were an ass to him after the party," she said, shaking her head. "you'd give him glances down the hall like you were going out with me."

"i kind of felt like i was," auston said quietly now, his gaze only on hers. "at least that night."

the rest had started to drift off into another conversation somewhere else, voices mingling off into the distance, but y/n stood stock.

auston's fingers swept over hers again. "a few weeks after the party, when i found you crying in the girls change room "

her breath caught, a memory she had long forgotten but not the tenderness in his closeness that day.

"i didn't know what to do. i think i just… sat with you. didn't talk. didn't question."

"you didn't know me at all," she whispered.

"but i felt like i did," he said. "or i wanted to. you were furious, and it's not like one else even knew me. i was close with the program guys but not really anyone at school. until you. something about that day in the backyard, something about you just hit me."

her chest squeezed. "you never told me that."

he shrugged slightly. "i didn't think you'd be interexted."

she met his gaze. something raw was there, gentler than anything she'd ever seen on him for many months.

"i would've kissed you that evening," he admitted. "if i thought you'd have wanted me to."

her breathing hitched, lips parting just a fraction. "i might've let you."

he leaned in close, forehead brushing against hers. "i think about that evening more than i should."

y/n swallowed. "do you still?"

auston nodded once. "yeah. especially now."

the space around her melted away—fellow team members, beverages, sound—and there was only the memory of an evening almost lost to the passage of time and the man standing before her who never recalled it to be anything else.

and this time, when he looked at her like that, with that type of expression that unwound everything inside of her, she didn't take a step back.

she leaned in.

and she kissed him first.

the night fizzled into a slower hum, the party thinning to small, cozy clusters in the living room and on the back deck. the music softened to something hazy and forgettable. y/n had tucked herself between auston’s sisters, all three of them animated in their conversation, laughter spilling freely as they leaned into each other with half-empty glasses in hand.

auston watched from the kitchen, arms crossed loosely, sipping water now. he’d switched out of sangria an hour ago when he noticed the flush creeping high on her cheeks and the way her eyes lingered on his lips just a few seconds too long whenever he glanced over.

when she laughed again—head thrown back, cheeks pink, the sleeves of her sundress slipping just slightly off one shoulder—he took a final sip of water and padded over.

“hey,” he murmured into her ear, a low rumble beneath the soft din of the room. “come with me.”

she blinked up at him, smiling, her tone instantly pouty. “why?”

“’cause i’m tired,” he said, sliding a hand to the small of her back. “and i need you.”

“ugh,” she groaned dramatically, but it was all for show. she let him pull her up gently. “fine. but you’re so clingy.”

he smiled, brushing his thumb over her hip. “say goodnight.”

she turned to his sisters with a sheepish little wave. “sorry, he’s demanding.”

“as always,” bre teased with a wink, nudging auston as y/n leaned into his side.

but he barely reacted — his arm stayed wrapped low around her waist, warm and possessive, his attention slipping back to her in quiet beats. it was late, and the night had unraveled into something softer, heavier, humming at the edges.

as the house settled into laughter and leftover drinks, auston turned to her with that familiar, half-lazy grin. “you ready to head up?”

“only if you carry me,” she said, light and teasing, eyes glinting under the string lights on the back porch.

he didn’t even blink. just bent, slid one arm behind her knees, the other under her back, and scooped her up with practiced ease.

“auston!” she squealed, arms wrapping around his neck instinctively as her feet lifted from the ground.

he just chuckled, low and smug. “you asked for it.”

“i didn’t think you’d actually—”

“baby,” he said, adjusting her in his arms, “i’ve been thinking about having you in my arms all night. don’t tempt me.”

her laugh turned breathy. her lips brushed his neck—just below his ear, slow and warm. “what if i already am?”

he grunted, grip tightening slightly as he navigated up the stairs. “someone’s being bad.”

she kissed him again, lower this time, just above the collar of his shirt. “mhm, you like it.”

“that’s the problem,” he muttered, jaw tense, barely making it to the top landing before her lips found his skin again.

“keep kissing me like that,” he warned, voice low, “and i’m putting you over my shoulder.”

“maybe i want that,” she murmured.

he let out a strangled groan and kicked their bedroom door shut with his heel.

the second they were inside, she slid out of his hold, slow and deliberate. her sundress swayed when her bare feet hit the floor, and she walked backward toward the bed, never breaking eye contact.

“you’re drunk,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold much conviction anymore.

“and you’re hot,” she countered, peeling the straps of her dress down one at a time.

“you’re evil,” he muttered, watching as the fabric pooled at her ankles.

she stood there in nothing but her boy shorts and bra. “and you’re still wearing too much clothes.”

he crossed the room in two strides, hands already on her hips, his mouth crashing into hers with a groan that had been building all night. she gasped against him, pulling him closer, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

he walked her back toward the bed, but this time, she wasn’t just letting him take control. her mouth was demanding, her hands bold—slipping beneath his shirt, dragging her nails up his spine.

“fuck, baby,” he breathed, breaking the kiss long enough to drop his forehead to hers. “you’re killing me.”

“then let me,” she whispered, kissing down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone.

he let her, head tipping back as her lips trailed over his skin, soft and open-mouthed and hungry. when her fingers brushed the chain around his neck and tugged—just enough to guide him down—he followed, helpless to her gravity.

“you sure about this?” he asked, panting now, voice hoarse.

he kissed her again, slower this time, mouth warm and coaxing, his lips moving over hers with aching intent. it was the kind of kiss that made her toes curl, that made her forget where she was—slow and deep and reverent, like he was memorizing the taste of her, like he couldn’t get enough.

her hands slid up beneath his shirt, palms flattening against his bare back, nails dragging just enough to make him shiver. his body pressed flush to hers, and she arched into him, hips brushing, mouths parting—

but then, he stopped.

not abruptly, but with care—pulling back just far enough that his breath fanned her lips. he rested his forehead against hers for a beat, catching his breath.

then his hand came up to cup her jaw, gentle and grounding. his thumb stroked a slow line across her cheekbone, and she leaned into it instinctively, lips parted, breathing uneven.

his eyes were dark but soft, voice rough when he spoke.

“but i want you sober.”

the words landed between them like something sacred.

her lashes fluttered. “what?”

he didn’t look away. “i want you clear. steady. no haze, no sangria, no maybe-regrets.”

her breath hitched—because she hadn’t thought past this. past the kisses, the teasing, the heat curling in her belly. but he had. and now, with his hand holding her face like something precious, the weight of it all settled in.

she swallowed. “i... i’m not that drunk.”

“i want every moan,” he murmured, voice like velvet against her skin. “every shiver. every kiss. i want you to remember the first time like a fucking film reel.”

“i will,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

“not like this. you’ve had sangria, you’re flushed, and you look at me like i hung the stars. and god, i wanna give you everything. but not tonight.”

her brow furrowed, eyes shimmering. “you don’t want me?”

“i want you so bad it hurts,” he rasped, dragging his lips just beneath her ear. “but this?” he pressed his forehead to hers again, “this matters too much.”

she exhaled shakily, body still wired from how close he’d let them get. “you’re being sweet.”

“no,” he said, brushing her hair from her face, “i’m being serious.”

she watched him, something tender unfolding in her chest. and when he reached for a tee and handed it to her, she accepted it without complaint.

but not without drama.

she turned around again and slowly stripped in front of him—her hips swaying slightly as she dragged the shorts down her legs. then she bent to pick them up in a way she knew would make him groan.

it did.

“you’re torturing me,” he muttered, covering his face with his hand as she pulled his oversized shirt on.

“just making sure you suffer,” she teased, crawling into bed beside him, all mischief and flushed skin.

he kissed her anyway, one hand finding the curve of her waist beneath the covers.

and when she finally settled against his chest, warm and humming with unspent want, he whispered into her hair

“you’re worth waiting for.”

and this time, she believed him.

next

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS