#but my city just got their own hockey team and a new ice arena so here is my chance i guess???

[blairamok]

the brain rot is so real i signed up for a free learn to skate lesson this weekend….

[wannabehockeygf]

You All Over Me - Auston Matthews

“‘Cause no amount of freedom gets you clean,

I’ve still got You All Over Me.”

Pairing: Auston Matthews x fem! oc Word Count: Currently 8.2k

Pairing: AM34 x Social Media Manager fem!oc

Warnings: alcohol, smut later on

Notes: (***) indicate chapter change, (---) time skip within chapter, or a seperation from a post or messages. Italics at the beginning of the chapter indicate who's 'pov'(not really cuz we're in third person) we're looking at. BOLD LETTERS LIKE THIS during chapters (excluding posts/the first word of the entire book) indicate location. Locations within Toronto will be more specific, outside of Toronto will be vague.

Story will be continued on my wattpad (same handle) and here, but should prob follow my wattpad because I won't announce new chaps here lol.

***

Toronto.

A place of endless opportunity – bright lights everywhere, bustling city streets, and the sinking feeling in one's stomach when realizing each of the 6 million people in the GTA have their own lives.

It's humbling, truly. Sitting on the subway, heading to a destination, one can't help but wonder about the people around them.

Thoughts don't often dwell on it, but that girl with the pink hair and the septum piercing? She just found out her dad is sick. The guy with the navy blue baseball cap? He just got promoted at work.

Sometimes she wondered if people look at her and wonder what her story is. What brought her to that moment, being in the same place as them.

She doesn't know if they do, but it brings her a sense of normalcy. Weirdly enough, it's one of the only things that makes her feel human when in doubt. Everyone is just trying to get by, right?

And sometimes, that can be especially hard - at least in her case right now.

Moving across the country had never been on Blair's radar until about 4 months ago. She had just finished her first year of law school after sustaining a season-ending, and career-ending, hip injury competing in figure skating last year.

As a little kid, she always wanted to play hockey, but her mom pushed figure skating on her, saying it was more 'feminine.' She didn't like it all that much, but it consumed her life so much that when she lost it, she didn't know what to do with herself.

So, when it blew up in her face, she decided to deny it and work towards making her communications bachelor's degree worth something in law school. Problem was, she hated it.

It drove her mental health into a ditch, and by the time she was finished, she was a shell of who she used to be - and who she used to be was broken too.

She didn't want to live like that anymore.

So, she finally broke things off with her long-term boyfriend, which she probably should've done earlier, and left. Left Vancouver behind to start a new life across the country - in Toronto.

Her music boomed in her headphones as she looked up, seeing that they were at the station she needed to get off at. Standing up, walking off the subway, she climbed up the stairs and faced the unfamiliar streets once again.

She had just come back from a job interview and was heading home to her tiny studio apartment in Trinity-Bellwoods. The job, which required navigating the trenches of Toronto public transit, was at Scotiabank Arena - working for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Coming from a fan perspective, she had been a Canucks girl her whole life, growing up in Vancouver. But this position of social media manager paid really well, and she wasn't letting team bias get in the way of putting some weight in her pockets.

Seeing the ice could be a little irking for her, sure, but it's not like she was being put out there with a puck and a stick and nothing else other than a pat on the back. She'd just be responsible for the social media platforms. Can't be that hard, right?

They said they'd get back to her within two weeks, and now the waiting starts.

***

Blair

SCOTIABANK ARENA

Blair shoved her face into the badly drawn map the information desk attendant had given her for directions. It really wasn't helping.

"Right... here?" she mumbled, taking a sharp turn without looking up and bumping straight into a firm chest, dropping the paper.

Startled, she let out a little squeal before stepping back to see who she had just run into. "Sorry!" she said, meeting the gaze of a blue-eyed man.

He smiled brightly at her. "All good," he replied, crouching down to pick up the paper and furrowing his brow at it. "What even is this?"

Blair let out an awkward chuckle, moving a lock of dark brown hair away from her face. "A... map? Sorry, I'm just so turned around here." She paused, swallowing hard. "Do you happen to know where I could find a... Brad Treliving?"

"Sure do," the man said, folding up the paper. He seemed about to give it back to her before he held out his other hand for a handshake. "And you are?"

"Blair Hanson," she replied, shaking his hand firmly. This guy must be the happiest man on earth, holding a full-on goofy grin for the entire interaction.

"Nice to meet you, Blair. I'm Mitch," he remarked, freeing her from the handshake and handing her the paper at last.

"Mitch...?" she questioned. As little as she knew about professional settings, she thought you were supposed to introduce yourself with your full name, which 'Mitch' didn't do, if that's even his name.

Mitch laughed, surveying the skeptical look on Blair's face. "You don't know who I am?"

Who did this guy think he was? Blair blinked a couple of times, then pushed her glasses up her nose. "Should I?"

Mitch chuckled again, clearly amused by her confusion. "How new are you here, exactly?"

"Well," she started, crossing her arms, "Does it matter? Maybe you should stop expecting people to recognize you on sight. I mean, what are you, Mark, like, a fitness trainer or something?"

Mitch furrowed his eyebrows, his friendly smile fading slightly. "It's Mitch," he paused, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. "Mitch Marner. I play for the team."

Oh. Oh. Blair should have known that, shouldn't she? She felt her face burn up as she started to apologize profusely. "I'm so sorry! I'm just... very new," she admitted, her guard wearing down.

Mitch waved it off, his smile returning. "No worries. So, you were looking for Brad, huh? Big day for you?"

"Yeah," Blair said, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. "I'm starting as the new social media manager."

Mitch's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's awesome! You'll be handling all the behind-the-scenes stuff, right? Making us look good on Instagram and all that?"

"Pretty much," she laughed, starting to feel more at ease. "I'm still figuring out how I'm going to make a bunch of sweaty hockey players look good, though."

Mitch grinned. "Good luck with that. But seriously, welcome aboard. You'll do great." He gestured down the hallway. "Brad's just around the corner, I'll take you."

"Thank you, Mitch. I appreciate it," she said, falling into step beside him.

"No problem," Mitch replied, walking with an easy confidence that made Blair envious. "You'll find that everyone here is pretty welcoming. It can feel like a big family, especially once you get to know the guys."

Blair laughed. "Oh, sure. I'm sure I'll fit right... in." She trailed off, her eyes widening as Mitch pushed open a big double door. She first spotted the man she was looking for, Brad Treliving, standing at the head of a big conference table, along with the entire Maple Leafs roster seated around it.

She swallowed hard, standing frozen in place while everyone's heads turned towards her. Mitch placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, "This her?"

Brad Treliving looked up from the papers he was holding, a welcoming smile spreading across his face. "Yes, it is. Come on in, Blair."

Blair forced her feet to move, taking tentative steps into the room. If she wasn't nervous before, she was now, with every pair of eyes scrutinizing her. She offered a polite smile, trying to hide her nerves. "Um... Hi," she said, approaching Brad and standing beside him. "Is this... are we doing this here?"

Brad chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, Blair. I thought it might be good for you to meet everyone right away. This is the team you'll be working with closely, after all."

She swallowed again, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "Okay, sure. Hi, everyone."

The players nodded and mumbled their greetings, some offering small smiles. Blair could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. This was what she came here for. This was her new beginning.

Brad gestured to a seat at the table, and Blair sat down, her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap. "So, Blair," he began, "We're thrilled to have you on board. Should we start with some introductions?"

She nodded, attempting to steady her breath as she glanced around the table. "Well, I'm Blair, as Mr. Treliving said, um..." She paused, fumbling with her fingers under the table. "I moved here from Vancouver a couple of weeks ago. I went to law school for a bit, and I used to figure skate competitively."

A chuckle came from somewhere across the table, and Blair's gaze shot in that direction. Her eyes met those of a tall, muscular, brown-eyed man as he stifled another laugh. "Figure skating, huh? No offense, but what do you know about hockey?"

Blair forced a polite smile, trying not to show her frustration. "None taken. I've been a Canucks fan my whole life, so, a lot more than you'd think."

A lot taken. It was like she had walked into a room with egos inflated to the max.

"Yeah, okay," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm as he adjusted his Maple Leafs branded ball cap. "Nice glasses, by the way."

Blair pushed her glasses up her nose, feeling a little self-conscious at this point, and she was about to respond before another man she didn't recognize spoke up. "Auston, lay off. It's not like she's getting on the ice with us."

Auston. That name rang a bell, she thought. Of course, Auston Matthews. Blair made a mental note to remember the faces and names, but for now, she just needed to get through this. Auston rolled his eyes, leaning back as he replied, "Says the one whose wife is a figure skater."

The other man, with strawberry blond hair, tensed up, gaining his composure before he met Auston's gaze. "And how many Olympic gold medals do you have?"

Auston smirked but didn't respond. The tension in the room was palpable, and Blair could feel her anxiety rising again. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she needed to stay professional. This was her chance to prove herself, and she wouldn't let an arrogant hockey player get to her.

Brad cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. "Alright, let's focus, everyone. Blair is here to help us elevate our social media presence, and I expect all of you to cooperate and make her job easier."

The fact that the general manager was talking to the players like they were literal children made Blair tense up even further. This was going to be a long day.

--- 436 TRINITY-BELLWOODS

Blair's phone rang as she shut the door to her apartment. She fished through her bag and pulled it out, seeing her brother's name, and slid to pick up the FaceTime.

She was met with the face of her baby niece, and it instantly warmed her heart. Sometimes, she thought she regretted choosing this type of life instead of settling down and starting a family, but she always brushed those thoughts away. She wasn't ready to be a mother—being the hot, cool aunt was enough for her.

"Hey, munchkin!" she greeted her niece, her voice softening. "Where's your dad?"

Her niece giggled, the camera shaking as she toddled around. "Da-da!" she called, and Blair heard her brother, Sam's, voice in the background.

"Hey, Blair," he said, taking the phone from his daughter and giving her a friendly smile. "How are you? How's the city?"

The stress of the day slowly dissipated as Blair saw the familiar face that brought her comfort. "Yeah, it's... different. Bigger, for sure, but nothing a little walking around can't fix. How's everything back home?"

Sam laughed, adjusting Blair's niece on his lap. "Same old, same old. Lila just started walking, so that's been fun." His face lit up with pride as he talked about his daughter, and Blair couldn't help but smile. Someday, she hoped she had that too.

"She's getting so big!" Blair said, watching as Lila reached for the phone, her chubby fingers grasping at the screen. "And walking already? Wow."

"Yeah, she's a little terror now," Sam joked, tickling Lila's side and making her squeal with laughter. He turned back to the camera, and his smile slowly got replaced with a frown as he looked at Blair's disheveled state. "We miss you, little sis."

Blair took a deep breath, feeling a wave of homesickness wash over her. "I miss you guys too. It's been a crazy day. I'm just trying to adjust, you know?"

Sam chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "Hey, you've dealt with worse, right? Remember when that one coach at nationals—"

"Sam! Don't!" Blair squealed, not wanting to be reminded of that. Figure skating might have been her entire life, but it was also the most traumatizing thing she had ever gone through.

Sam waved it off, returning the conversation to safer waters. "Whatever. But you got through that, right? You can get through anything, Blair. Toronto ain't nothing." He joked, trying to offer her more comfort.

Blair honestly felt bad for people who hadn't experienced having a big brother because they were literally the best. He was her only one, yet his words could always bring a smile to her face. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Sam. I needed that," she replied, smiling back at him.

"Anytime," Sam said, giving Lila a kiss on the forehead. "Hey, if you ever need to talk, you know we're just a phone call away. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't," Blair promised, feeling a bit lighter. "Give Lila a big hug from me."

"Will do," Sam said, waving as Lila babbled in the background. "Take care, sis."

"You too," Blair said, ending the call and setting her phone down on the coffee table. She took a deep breath, looking around her tiny studio apartment. The walls were still bare, and the only furniture she had was a small bed and a desk. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

A new start. Her new start.

***

Auston

SCOTIABANK ARENA

Auston Matthews was always straightforward with people. He thought that was a good quality, but recently, it seemed quite the opposite. His friends liked him, though, even though they butted heads sometimes. That made him not an asshole, right?

Through some light stalking, Auston had found Blair's Instagram the next day, and was actively scrolling through it, hunched over and everything while in the locker room. He didn't have shame doing it, because they might not have liked each other, but damn she was hot.

It started innocently, perhaps curious, when he searched her name at the gym the night before and saw that Mitch had already followed her. He even looked around before he tapped on it to make sure no one was looking, even though he was the only one there, and he'd been hooked ever since.

It was surprising that he wasn't drooling currently, as he was elbow-deep in her feed fifteen minutes before warmups. Mitch, who had been trying to hype the whole team up for their season home opener, frowned when he saw Auston didn't even glance up from his phone.

"Yo, Matthews!" Mitch exclaimed, trying to get Auston's attention. Auston glanced up, trying to find the source of the noise. His eyes scanned the room until they met Mitch's, whose eyes narrowed at Auston. "What?" Auston said, his tone annoyed.

"What?" Mitch mimicked Auston, mocking him as he rolled his eyes, "We have a game in fifteen minutes and you're glued to your phone. What's so interesting, anyway?"

Auston put his phone down on the bench as he started to put a glove on. "Nothing. I mean, nothing important. It can wait." He stated.

William Nylander, another one of their teammates, took the opportunity to snatch Auston's phone on the bench. He thought it would be an innocent prank to get him to flinch, but his face lit up when he saw it was still unlocked.

"Aw, you guys gotta see this," William said, quickly standing up and holding the phone out of Auston's reach.

Auston lunged for his phone, but with his gloves on, it was a futile effort. "Willy, fuck off and give it back." he snapped, his annoyance evident.

William grinned mischievously and darted away, holding the phone high. "What are you so worried about, Auston? Is it your secret mistress?" he joked, drawing the attention of a few other players in the locker room.

Mitch stepped forward, grinning at William's antics. "Let's see what's got our boy so hooked," he said, grabbing the phone from William's hand before Auston could protest.

The room fell silent as the players gathered around Mitch. Auston could only watch in horror as his teammates stared at Blair's Instagram feed. A few chuckles broke out, and Auston's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Man, she's cute," William remarked, nudging Auston playfully as he handed his phone back. "No wonder you've been glued to your phone."

Auston felt his frustration bubbling within him as he finally snatched the phone from William's hand. "I know she's cute, that's why I was looking at it, genius. No other reason."

"Whatever you say, buddy," Mitch said, rolling his eyes as he put his own gloves on, "No harm in trying anything, right? I mean, no rules are saying that we can't–"

Auston sat up from the bench quickly in his defense. "I'm not–" He paused, looking around to see that everyone's eyes were on him which made him decide to sit back down, "I'm not going to try anything, okay? I can do way better than some figure skater media manager or whatever."

The locker room fell into an awkward silence after Auston's defensive outburst. Mitch exchanged a glance with William before deciding to break the tension.

"Alright, let's get our heads in the game," Mitch said, clapping his hands to grab everyone's attention. "We have a season opener to win."

Auston kept his head down, focusing on putting on the rest of his gear. The other players started to shift their attention back to the game, the momentary distraction fading away. Auston could feel the weight of their looks, though, and he knew he'd have to find a way to get everyone to forget about it.

And he knew how to do that, precisely. He had to push away the subject – Blair – as much as possible, and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Tagged Location: Toronto, Ontario

austonmatthews: Thanks for the awesome home opener 💙🤍💙 @/morganrielly @/marner_93

♥ Liked by marner_93, williamnylander, and 73297 others.

Comments: marner_93: 🔥🐐💯

mapleleafs: Leafs nation has the PASSION

random: Auston one chance please

matthewknies: Arizona boys doing what they do best ↳ williamnylander: ice hockey...? ↳↳matthewknies: shhhhh

random: cup this ssn!? ↳ random: 1967

---

BAR DEM

"Another round?" William cheered loudly, urging his teammates on as he flipped his head of sweaty blond hair back. He was drunk – quite literally the entire team was as they celebrated their season opener win, and had what seemed like too many rounds of shots in the upscale bar downtown. Another one couldn't hurt, right?

Auston nodded towards William, approaching the bartender and placing his forearm on the sticky bartop, his credit card placed deliberately between his fingers. He waved over the young woman manning the bar until she noticed him, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she stood infront of him. "What can I get ya?"

Auston smirked, his eyes scanning the bartender head to toe. "Another round of shots for the best puck players in the league," he said, his words slightly slurring together at the end. He gave the bartender a wink before handing over his credit card.

Auston's inner dialogue, although absolutely plastered, was screaming at him to not do something he'd regret, but he decided to ignore it. The bartender flushed as she quickly pulled out the shot glasses from under the bar, then bent over slightly to grab the team's choice of tequila from the wall of alcohol. Auston's eyes, unfortunately, betrayed him at the moment but eventually found hers again. "What's your name, baby?"

The bartender's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she glanced up at Auston, her movements slowing as she poured the shots. "It's Natalie," she replied, avoiding his gaze momentarily before meeting his eyes again with a shy smile.

Auston grinned, unapologetically eye-fucking the bartender once again. "Nice to meet you, Natalie. I'm Auston."

"I know who you are," she said, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. Auston raised a brow, leaning closer to Natalie, "Really? Then who am I?"

Natalie's blush deepened as she filled the last shot glass. "You're Auston Matthews. Everyone here knows who you are," she replied, her voice steady despite her shyness.

Auston adjusted his ball cap, which he was wearing backward before he focused on Natalie again. Even while wasted, he couldn't lie – he loved the attention. "Well, it's nice to know I'm famous," he joked, his words still slurred. "When do you get off tonight?"

Natalie hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was watching her too closely. She met Auston's gaze again, her blush deepening. "Couple of hours," she said quietly, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite her flustered state.

Auston grinned wider, sensing her interest. "Maybe you can join us for a drink later," He said, his gaze flickering to her lips for a split second, "We could... get to know each other."

Natalie bit her lip before rolling her eyes, "We'll see," She said, swiping Auston's card through the machine and turning the tablet around for his signature. He frowned slightly, scribbling on the screen before Natalie slid the tray of shots toward him, "Have a good night, Mr. Matthews."

Auston opened his mouth to reply to her, but before he could, Mitch yelled from their booth and waved Auston over. "Auston, stop hitting on the bartender and bring us those shots, would you?"

Auston rolled his eyes at Mitch's interruption but grabbed the tray of shots and made his way back to their booth. The rest of the team cheered as he approached, slapping him on the back and grabbing their glasses.

"I had this grreatt idea, Auston," Mitch started, right after he downed the shot the second he got it, "You've got the hots for our new media manager right? Well... I have her number!" He slurred, the alcohol clearly hitting him as much as anybody else.

"Okay?" Auston replied without missing a beat. He had an uncanny ability of being able to look like he didn't care about things, even if he did, and this was one of those times. "Why? And... how does this affect me?"

"I'm a nice guy, I make it my personal duty to get to know everyone on staff," Mitch leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper despite the loud music and chatter around them, "And, how does this affect you? Come on, you were looking at her pictures with more passion than you play our game, Tone."

Auston's jaw tightened as he sat back on one of the worn-out leather sofas, "I don't want anything to do with that prissy 'businesswoman'" He scoffed, using his fingers to make mock quotations.

Mitch rolled his eyes, talking louder this time. "Well, here's your one chance then. I've got Blair's number right here," he said, pulling out his phone and waving it teasingly in front of Auston.

Auston hesitated for a moment before snatching the phone out of Mitch's hand, his fingers fumbling on his own phone screen as he copied the number down. Yeah, okay, he might've absolutely detested the thought of actually being with someone like Blair, but casual, no-strings affairs were his specialty.

After he was done, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and handed Mitch's back. "There. Now fuck off and let's have fun, yeah?" He said, to which Mitch gave him a smirk back.

***

Blair

PRIVATE MESSAGES 2:43 AM

???: I got your number babe Cnt fuckin believe he gotb to yous before meeee Gna tell his wife lmaoooo Im sooooo fuckshng wastped rnight nkowww I took thnis grl hime Can't stolp thisnkinf aboust u thouglh Need a girl likes u in my lifne

8:01 AM

Blair: What? I think you have the wrong number And, word of advice, never drunk text someone ever again.

436 TRINITY-BELLWOODS

Blair woke up to her alarm. She squinted at the bright screen and saw several messages from an unknown number. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to make sense of the jumbled text, feeling a mix of confusion and annoyance. Who would send something like this at such an ungodly hour?

Setting her phone back on her nightstand, Blair groaned and rolled out of bed. The small studio apartment felt even tinier in the morning light, but she had no time to dwell on that. She had her first full day at work ahead of her, and she was determined to make a good impression despite the rocky start with the team. Or, atleast, with a certain person.

She had been in Toronto for about a month now, and it felt as if she hadn't gotten a good nights sleep since. The sooner she got more comfortable with her new place, the sooner she'd be comfortable in her new life.

She quickly showered, dressed in a professional yet comfortable outfit, and made herself a quick breakfast. Her phone buzzed again, and she reluctantly picked it up.

PRIVATE MESSAGES 8:32 AM

???: Oh fuck My bad Right number tho This is Auston Matthews

Blair: Did you even read what you texted me? Completely inappropriate. Who gave you my number?

Fivehead: Look, I'm sorry. Was pretty wasted last night. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable Or whatever Read 8:34 AM

Fivehead: Mitch did. He was also pretty drunk

Blair: Asshole.

Fivehead: What?

Blair: What?

Fivehead: Me or him?

Blair: Him.

Fivehead: Oh, so I'm not an asshole?

Blair: No, you too.

Fivehead: You can't just call me an asshole

Blair: Who's stopping me?

Fivehead: I could get you fired.

Blair: You wouldn't do that. I thought you said you needed a girl like me in your life?

Fivehead: Better stop talking before I actually do it.

Blair: Make me.

Auston's typing bubble came up for a few moments, then stopped, but his reply came a couple of minutes later.

Fivehead: Whatever you say Cya in a few, princess Or would you prefer "your majesty" ? Read 8:42 AM

--- SCOTIABANK ARENA

Blair hunched forward in her office chair, the clacking of keyboards around her becoming more irritating by the second. She was told she would have her own office, but today, since renovations were going on, the general manager sent another woman to share the space with Blair.

The red-headed woman who went by the name of Jess was nice enough, but she was so focused that it drove Blair nuts. I mean, seriously, in the three hours they'd been at work, she hadn't stopped typing - other than when she would take sips of her strong-smelling herbal tea.

That's why when someone knocked on the door, Blair immediately shot up, thankful for a sound other than that goddamn keyboard. She quickly scurried to the door, passing by Jess who was unbothered by the distraction.

Blair opened the door to see Auston Matthews standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin on his face. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she took a step back, crossing her arms, "Can I help you?"

Auston's grin widened as he took a step into the office, closer to Blair. "Thought I'd come say hi. You know, our last interaction wasn't all that great."

Blair raised an eyebrow, her arms still crossed. "And texting me at 2 am drunk off your ass, trying to fuck me is what you consider 'not all that great?'" She replied, using her fingers to make mock quotations.

Auston's grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, adopting a more serious expression. "Okay, I get it. I was an asshole, and I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

Blair rolled her eyes, "I don't think I can after that string of texts," She said, walking forward to back Auston out into the hallway. She shut the door halfway before continuing, "Do you need anything? Or are you just here to distract me."

Auston chuckled and rolled his eyes back. "Yeah, actually. We need you downstairs. Something about an on-ice interview for TikTok?"

"Are you serious? I have to get on the ice? I don't even have skates." Blair remarked, slightly panicked. Auston, oblivious to the discomfort he had caused, motioned for her to follow him. "We're a hockey team. We have extra skates for everyone, come on."

Blair reluctantly followed Auston downstairs to the ice. There, she found no other players or people at all, just a selfie stick with a company phone lying by it on a bench. She turned to Auston, quite practically fuming at this point, "Small budget, huh? And I have to interview you?" She said, to which he nodded, "You didn't mention that! You said-"

"These should fit, ma'am." An equipment person interrupted, holding out a pair of white hockey skates.

Blair forced a smile as she took them and thanked the employee before turning back to Auston, "You really should work on your communication skills," she muttered, sitting down on a bench to put the skates on.

Auston smirked, leaning against the wall. "You're a fast learner. You'll be fine."

Blair rolled her eyes, trying to focus on lacing the skates, but she very quickly realized that these were very different to figure skates. She swallowed hard, not looking up as she struggled to figure out a way to make sure they stayed on.

Seeing her struggle, Auston sighed and walked over. "Let me help," he said, kneeling down in front of her.

"I don't need your help." Blair muttered, quickly angling herself away from where Auston had knelt down.

Auston chuckled softly. "You're not going to get far if you can't tie them properly," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. Blair huffed, realizing he was right but still not wanting to be in this situation in the first place. Reluctantly, she turned back towards him, allowing him to help.

Auston expertly laced the skates, his fingers moving with practiced ease. Blair watched him silently, feeling a mix of frustration and just straight up hatred. Once he finished, he stood up and offered her a hand. "Ready to go?" he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Blair looked at his hand, and then back up at him before completely disregarding his help and getting up on her own, although it wasn't easy in the new bulky skates.

"Always so independent, huh, princess?" Auston said, trying to hold back his laughter as Blair wobbled trying to walk out to the ice.

Blair managed to steady herself, her annoyance bubbling just beneath the surface. "Whatever, let's just get this over with."

***

Auston

YYZ - TORONTO PEARSON INTL. AIRPORT

Roadies - an inevitable event for a hockey player.

Usually, the Leafs schedule tried to make it so that they'd visit multiple cities during a roadie, getting it all over with and rewarding them with a long homestand, which is the way most of the players liked it. Today, though, they had a one-off trip down to Raleigh, just to fly back the same day.

Auston had decided to engross himself with his teammates today and pretend to be humble, flying on the team plane instead of his own private jet. He trudged on, a backpack slung over his shoulder and his dark hair sticking out of the beanie he was wearing.

Since he was running late, no one saw him at the terminal or even expected him to fly with them, so when he walked on everyone turned their heads. Mitch even shot to his feet, tilted his head in confusion, then finally waved him over.

Auston took a deep breath, hoping they would just talk normally, about the game or something, but braced himself for the inevitable other conversation as he walked down the aisle.

Mitch grinned widely as Auston approached, clearly eager to tease him. "Look who decided to slum it with the rest of us," he said, playfully nudging Auston's shoulder as he took a seat next to him.

Auston chuckled, shoving his backpack into the overhead bin and plopping down in the seat. "Yeah, yeah, I figured I'd give you guys the pleasure of my company for once."

Mitch's grin widened as he leaned back in his seat, rolling his eyes. "Pleasure, huh? More like a rare sighting of the famous Auston Matthews. What's next, you actually sitting with us on the bus?"

Auston rolled his eyes, adjusting his beanie. "Don't push it, Marner."

William leaned over the aisle, holding out his phone with a grin as wide as Mitch's. "This you?" He said, gesturing to the screen. Auston furrowed a brow as he leaned closer, but when he saw the Maple Leafs TikTok and a nicely manicured hand in frame along with Auston himself, he immediately looked the other way.

Auston groaned inwardly, realizing that the infamous TikTok interview had made its rounds. "Yeah, that's me," he said, pretending to not care as he slouched in his seat. "What's your point?"

William chuckled, pulling his phone back. "What's my point? Dude, are those hockey boots she's wearing? How'd you get Blair to do that?"

"Crazy thing, Willy, normal people don't carry skates around with them," Auston replied, his tone slightly annoyed, "She had to borrow them from equipment. No big deal."

William raised his hands in mock surrender, "Alright, don't kill me, but damn, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of her."

Auston scoffed, scratching his cheek. "Scared of her? What's there to be scared of, Willy?" He remarked with a passion. Auston, if asked, would describe Blair as many things, but 'scary' was not one of them."

William leaned back in his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that she seems to have no problem putting you in your place?" he teased, drumming his fingers on the tray table, "I mean, seriously, who ever tries to put you in your place? I don't know why we haven't started calling you Mr. Ego yet."

Auston shook his head defensively, "First of all, ouch, and second of all, there's a difference between 'putting me in my place' and just being annoying and bitchy," He sat up slightly, his posture straightening, "And which one is she, again?"

William chuckled, clearly enjoying Auston's discomfort. He folded his arms casually. "Come on, Auston. You've got to admit, she's got you wrapped around her finger."

Auston scowled, his annoyance growing. "I am not wrapped around anyone's finger, Willy. She's just...holy shit." He suddenly said, catching a glimpse of Mitch's phone beside him.

Tagged Location: Toronto, Ontario

blairhanson_: last warm day ever :(

♥ Liked by han.samwich, marner_93, and 1072 others.

Comments:

random: holy

han.samwich: Come back to van pls, it may be rainy but atleast it doesn't snow

↳ blairhanson_: It's also a complete ripoff of a city I fear

↳↳han.samwich: Fair point, Canucks better though

↳↳↳ marner_93: Ouch

↳↳↳↳ han.samwich: MITCH MARNER ????

random: what a hottie, age?

williamnylander: make me look this good on the ice please

↳ blairhanson_: I will try <3

---

"Hmm?" Mitch said, straightening his head up from his phone, seemingly inconspicuous to Auston's reaction.

"Give that to me." Auston muttered, ripping the phone from Mitch's hand and holding it up to his own face. It was a simple Instagram post from Blair, nothing overly special, but Auston found himself unable to rip his eyes off of it.

It only took a few moments of Auston gawking at Mitch's phone before everyone burst into laughter, including other members of the team around them. "See something you like?" Mitch teased.

Auston felt his face heat up, but he quickly regained his composure, throwing the phone back at Mitch. "Whatever, man. Just checking her out. Nothing wrong with that."

Mitch caught his phone, grinning ear to ear. "Sure, Tone, sure. You're just checking her out for work purposes, right?"

Auston rolled his eyes again, slouching further into his seat. "You guys got me fucked up if you think I've never seen you checking out a pretty girl before."

"Yeah, but I think her eyes are up there," William remarked, looking over at Mitch's phone where the photo was still pulled up. He looked at Auston, then at the photo, then back before smiling. "You think she's pretty?"

"Fuck, I..." Auston facepalmed, running his hands down his face. He couldn't believe he was in a situation where his teammates were bugging him about a girl, at their big age. "She's not bad to look at, okay? Can we drop it?"

The laughter from his teammates finally began to die down as everyone took their seats. "Okay, we'll stop... for now." Mitch conceded.

---

RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA

The Leafs took a tight victory against the Hurricanes that night in Raleigh, with a final score of 5-4 in overtime and a surprising Auston Matthews hat trick.

Fans in the arena booed him as he left the ice, but he didn't care. Drenched in sweat, he trudged into the visiting locker room with a big smile on his face, his glove out to fist bump anyone who wanted.

Auston pulled his jersey off, and left in only his compression shirt and chest protector was given the belt by last game's MVP, Matthew Knies. "Good shit, Tone, let's keep it going back home," Matt said, giving Auston a firm pat on the back.

With a smile just as wide, Auston sat in his stall, belt thrown over his shoulder and the three pucks from his hat trick in his other hand as he posed for a photo. William, as the second star of the game, posed with him, putting an arm around Auston.

Later that night, on the team bus to the airport, Auston leaned his head against the window, watching the city lights blur by as he tried not to fall asleep. All he wanted to do at the moment was collapse on his bed and have his dog cuddle up next to him, but he'd have to wait a few more hours.

As his eyelids got heavier and heavier, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he shook the sleep out of him as he fished it out and brought it to his face.

PRIVATE MESSAGES 10:07 PM

Princess: No fucking way.

Auston: ?

Princess: Do I really have to post that?

Auston: What are you talking about?

Princess: *insert MVP photo*

Auston: Wow! Who are those handsome guys?

Princess: Is there one without the egoist on the right?

Auston: Sure But he wasn't the MVP Was he, princess? See the game?

Princess: I did. Can I have his number?

Auston: Willy's? Why?

Princess: He's cute.

Auston: You're cute.

Princess: What?

Auston: You can read, right? Plus I know you're just asking that to make me jealous

Princess: Not everyone's obsessed with you.

Auston: Sure. See you tomorrow Read: 10:12 PM ***

Blair TORONTO TRANSIT COMMISION - DUNDAS ST. WEST at OSSINGTON AVE

“I’m just wondering why he has your personal Instagram. I mean, isn’t he basically your client?” Sam asked, holding his phone up to his face while he sipped a frozen margarita. Blair’s entire family had decided to go on an impromptu trip to Cancun, and when she realized her work schedule interfered heavily she was devastated. So, instead of tan lines and sun-bleached hair, she was doomed to a gloomy November in Toronto. 

Blair was looking up at the directional signs as she tried to navigate her way through the busy subway station while her brother was on FaceTime. The 8 a.m. rush was definitely a real thing, and being in a new city turned her around even further, “You know he’s a human too, right?” Blair remarked, her eyes darting wildly around at the multitude of directions she could go.

Blair heard Sam chuckle through the one Airpod she was wearing, “Sure, but commenting on your posts? Doesn’t he have a wife?” He replied, his words barely audible over the rush of the station.

Blair sighed, glancing down at her phone for a moment before finding the right platform and walking towards it, “Yes, Mitch has a wife, but I don’t see the point. He’s trying to be nice, and he’s a lot nicer than some of the other assholes there.”

"Okay, okay," Sam relented with a chuckle. "But what about the other players? Are they really that bad?”

Blair adjusted her bag as she stepped onto the train, glancing around for a seat before giving up and holding onto one of the poles. “Most of them are fine. I’m talking about Mr. Rocket Richard every year.” She replied, her tone annoyed.

 Sam's voice crackled through the earbud in her ear, his curiosity unabated. “Who? Oh, Auston Matthews?” He asked with a chuckle, “I thought he seemed like a pretty nice guy, through interviews I’ve seen anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the dude puts on a real good media face. I would know.” Blair scoffed, shuffling in her purse to find a pack of gum, “I mean, seriously, I wish he could be genuinely nice for one moment in his sad-”

Suddenly, Blair felt a hand tug at her sleeve, and she quickly turned on the balls of her feet to, most likely, tell whoever it is who just touched her to fuck off. Blair was undoubtedly more bark than bite, but being skittish by nature didn’t help that fact. “Hey, how about you-” She started, quieting down as she met the eyes of the man who looked up at her from his seat.

The blond cracked a smile, then laughed. And what an addicting laugh it was because Blair’s heart immediately skipped a beat at the sound and found herself smiling back. “Rough morning?” William asked, sliding his bag off the seat beside him.

Blair felt a flush rise to her cheeks, partly from the surprise and partly from embarrassment at her earlier irritation. She quickly composed herself, sliding into the now-open seat next to William Nylander. "Yeah, you could say that," she replied with a small smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What are you doing here?"

Sam’s voice came through suddenly. “Blair? What’s happening? Who is that?” He questioned, which caused Blair to not hear whatever William said next. “Sam, I gotta go,” Blair mumbled, her fingers fumbling against her phone for the hang-up button. She looked back at the blue-eyed man, leaning slightly closer to him, “Sorry, what was that?”

William laughed, once again, which Blair simply could not get enough of. “I always take the subway to practice. I like to blend in, plus, beats dealing with traffic.” He repeated as the train began to move.

Blair found herself more intrigued by William than she expected. She wasn’t actually going to try to get to know him unless it was to purposefully get on Auston’s nerves, but she immediately saw this as an opportunity to make a friend, and maybe get some actual action later on. “You never get noticed?” She questioned.

William shrugged as he scratched his cheek, which was already too stubbly for his liking. “Nah, not really,” He started, surveying Blair as she crossed her legs, “Who was that?” 

Blair quickly dropped her phone into her bag, not wanting any further distraction. “Oh, my brother. He was just… curious about how the job is going.” She said, knowing that it wasn’t the full truth but wanting to move on from the topic.

Unfortunately, William didn’t budge. “Ohhh,” He chuckled in realization, “You told him about Tone?”

Blair shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the question. She knew that they were friends and she couldn’t reveal much about her very strong feelings about Auston without offending William, so she offered something simple. “Oh, yeah. He’s been… difficult to work with.”

William snorted, outstretching his arm so it rested on top of the seat Blair was sitting on. “You can just say he’s an ass, no judgment.” He said, casually.

Blair’s eyes widened at William's straightforward comment. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt about Auston, especially considering they were teammates. Despite her own frustrations with Auston, she didn't want to badmouth him to someone who knew him personally.

"Well, yeah," Blair replied carefully, choosing her words. "He can be... challenging at times."

William chuckled, shaking his head. "Challenging, huh? That's one way to put it. Auston has a way of rubbing people the wrong way."

Blair nodded, relieved that William seemed to understand without her having to elaborate further. She shuffled in her bag for her water bottle, finding it and unscrewing the cap. "Yeah, you could say that. But he's not all bad. I think he means well... sometimes."

William raised an eyebrow, his expression curious. "You think so? I think he’s just into you.”

Blair was in the middle of taking a sip of water as William spoke, and when the words hit her, she choked on it, a small amount of it coming out of her nose as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Woah, Blair, you okay?” William questioned, sitting up and placing a firm hand on her back. People around them in the subway stared as Blair wiped the wetness off her nose with her sleeve.

Blair coughed and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure after choking on her water. William's concern was evident as he patted her back gently. She straightened up, angling her body towards William as she furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean he’s into me?” She said through gritted teeth.

William pulled his hand back, realizing his comment had caught Blair off guard. He glanced around at the other passengers on the subway, who were surreptitiously watching the exchange with curiosity.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," William said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "I just… Nevermind.”

The crease inbetween Blair’s eyebrows deepened as she leaned into William further, “Nevermind? You can’t just say that and say ‘nevermind’” She remarked, trying to keep her composure

William, once again laughed like he always did when he was uncomfortable and put his hands up in a mock surrender. “Hey, Bro code, I can’t tell you anything else.”

Blair stared at William, her mind racing with questions. She hadn't expected him to suggest that Auston might have interest in her, whether that be sexual or romantic or some other way - It was a notion that caught her completely off guard, and she struggled to process it.

"Bro code?" Blair repeated, her voice incredulous. "What does that even mean?"

William chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Look, I probably shouldn't have said anything. It's just... Auston can be hard to read sometimes, but I've seen the way he acts around you."

Blair frowned, crossing her arms defensively. "And what exactly does that mean?"

William hesitated, glancing around at the other passengers who were still discreetly watching their conversation. Outstretching his arm once again, he looked forward at the wall as he responded. “Okay, well, he looks at your pictures.”

Blair's mind raced as she processed William's words. Auston looking at her pictures? She hadn't even considered the possibility that he might view her differently than their professional interactions suggested.

"He looks at my pictures?" Blair repeated, her voice a mix of surprise and skepticism.

William nodded slowly, his expression serious. "Yeah. I mean, I've caught him a few times scrolling through your Instagram,” He laughed, the words keeping flowing without him noticing, “Like the other day, on the way to Raleigh, I was talking to him and Mitchy was scrolling his phone and saw your post. Auston grabbed that phone so fast, it was like-”

He abruptly stopped, swallowing hard as he turned toward Blair with a realization that he definitely overshared. “I… that didn’t happen. I just made it all up. April… fools?” He tried to lie, shrugging jokingly.

Blair stared at William, wide-eyed with her jaw dropped for a few moments before she took a breath, composing herself. “It’s November, Will,” She said, nudging him, “What the fuck? Auston Matthews? Really?” She said, more to herself than to William, but it was audible.

“Blair, please don’t tell…” William started, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Right then, the train stopped at a station, and Blair abruptly shot up, William’s arm falling limply to his side. “I gotta go.” She murmured, quickly stepping off at the nearest door before William could get another word out. 

As Blair stepped off the subway platform, she felt a rush of conflicting emotions swirling inside her. William's unexpected revelation about Auston had caught her completely off guard, leaving her reeling with disbelief and confusion.

She walked briskly through the bustling station, one she didn’t know at all, at that, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what William had said. Auston Matthews, looking at her pictures? Could it really be true? And if so, what did it mean?

Blair shook her head, trying to push aside the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. It didn’t matter. Auston Matthews was the most rude, full of himself, selfish man and she would be damned if she let herself-

And then, she felt her phone buzz. As she kept her pace, walking in who-knows-what direction, she pulled it out of her purse, and it felt like her eyes were about to pop out of her head at the notification.

New Follower: austonmatthews

***

SCOTIABANK ARENA

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Auston demanded, his hands gripping the smooth, polished leather of the chair's armrests. He took a deep breath, the scent of the office's faint cologne and clean air mingling in his nose as he exhaled. Meeting the eyes of his general manager, he added, "Sorry, language."

"Look, Auston," Brad began, his tone measured, "We're not asking you to do anything outrageous."

Auston furrowed his eyebrows, his glare piercing straight into Brad's soul. "Last time I checked, I'm an adult and I can be involved with anyone I want to. Surely you can't actually ask me to do this, right?"

Brad placed his hands on the mahogany desk, the rich grain reflecting the dim light of the office. He met Auston's intense gaze with equal resolve. "Actually, we can. This is an important event for our sponsors, and it's a 'bring your significant other' type of thing. We can't have you show up alone and hit on every breathing human woman there."

Auston gritted his teeth, feeling his frustration bubbling like molten lava ready to erupt. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms defensively, the leather creaking under his weight. "So, what, you want me to find someone to bring along as arm candy for the night? Just to make you and the sponsors happy?"

Brad sighed, his expression weary as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know this isn't your idea of fun, but it's important for the team and our image."

Auston scoffed, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "What makes you think that? Am I just some piece of meat?"

Brad sighed again, the sound heavy with exasperation. He picked up his phone, which had been sitting face-down on his desk, and scrolled for a few seconds before turning it around to show Auston. It was a video of him and a bartender from their post-season opener night out, sloppily making out outside of the bar.

Auston blinked, glaring at the video posted on Twitter by a fan. "Fucking hell, why did no one tell me that existed?" His cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat spreading up to his ears. The truth was that he regretted that night, but no one knew that but him.

"You have really good publicists, Auston. Most of it is deleted; this is just something they haven't gotten to yet," Brad replied, putting his phone back down with a heavy thud. "Do you see what I mean, though? We can't have something like that surface after such an important event."

Auston stared at Brad, a storm of frustration and resignation swirling in his eyes. The video on Brad's phone was a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions, even those moments he thought were private. He rubbed his temples, the pressure building like a headache.

"Fine," Auston finally relented, his tone begrudging. "But I'm not promising anything. This is just for the team's sake, not because I actually want to be there."

Brad nodded, his expression softening slightly at Auston's reluctant agreement. "I understand, Auston. Just find someone who can handle the spotlight and won't cause any drama."

Auston rolled his eyes, leaning back further in the chair and crossing his arms tighter. "Right. Because that's so easy to find."

Brad chuckled, though the tension in the room remained thick as fog. "You're Auston Matthews. I'm sure you'll manage."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Auston stood up from his chair. "Yeah, yeah. I'll figure it out." He turned and left Brad's office, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that matched his mood. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, contemplating who he could ask to accompany him to the event. As he turned a corner in the hallway, his eyes still on his phone, disaster struck.

Out of nowhere, hot coffee splashed over Auston, soaking his shirt and causing him to yelp in surprise. He heard a squeak and then a thud as his phone hit the floor. "Shit, sorry, I didn't see you... there."

Blair looked up at Auston, her eyes wide with a mixture of bewilderment and anger. "What the fuck, Auston, watch where you're going?" she exclaimed, her voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Auston grimaced, his eyes unintentionally drawn to the lacy red bra now visible beneath her coffee-stained white blouse. He didn't say anything else, only glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before opening the door to a random closet and pulling them both inside.

Inside the cramped, dark closet, Blair immediately yanked her arm free from Auston's grip, glaring at him with a mix of confusion and frustration. "What the hell are we doing in here?"

Auston glanced around their tiny, dimly lit surroundings, the smell of cleaning supplies and dust filling his nostrils. "Look down, Blair," he hissed.

She followed his instruction, looking down at her stained blouse and realizing her bra was completely visible. "Oh fuck, holy shit!" she exclaimed, her voice too loud for comfort.

Auston glanced at the door, then back at Blair, his discomfort clear. And even though he tried to resist, the sight of Blair’s wet shirt clinging to her curves did nothing less than make him adjust himself awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident. Do you have like, a jacket or something in your bag?"

"Close your eyes!" she squealed, feeling his gaze on her chest. "And, no, of course I don't today."

Auston squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away to give Blair some semblance of privacy in the tiny, dark closet. He could hear her rummaging through her bag, cursing under her breath. "Seriously, Blair, I'm sorry," Auston said, his voice muffled as he spoke through clenched teeth. "I didn't mean to—"

"Save it," Blair snapped, finding a tissue in her bag and trying to dab at the stain, which did little to help. "Just my luck. Of all people to bump into—"

Suddenly, Auston put a finger to Blair's lips, stopping her from talking as he heard a noise in the hallway. "Shh, shut up for a second." He hissed, listening intently.

"Auston?" Mitch called, his voice getting closer. He crouched down to pick up Auston's phone from the floor, recognizing it from the distinctive case. He figured Auston must be around somewhere if he had dropped his phone.

Blair's breath hitched as Auston's finger rested against her lips. Her irritation was still bubbling just beneath the surface, but she kept silent, listening to the footsteps approaching the closet door. Auston kept his eyes squeezed shut, clearly aware of her presence as well.

Auston finally spoke, his whisper barely audible. "Ok, you've gotta have something to cover up with, right? Maybe—"

"Give me your hoodie." Blair said suddenly, so casually that Auston did a double take. "What?" he echoed, quietly.

"Your hoodie," Blair insisted, her tone firm. "Unless you want me walking around like this."

Auston blinked, his eyes now open despite the darkness of the closet. He didn't want that, eyes on Blair and her see-through shirt even though he had no right to say so. "I'm not—I'm not wearing anything underneath it," he tried to reason.

Blair's glare intensified. "Auston, I don't care. Just give me it," she hissed, tugging at his sleeve.

Auston hesitated for a moment, realizing the predicament he was in. He couldn't exactly walk around shirtless without drawing attention, but leaving Blair in her current state wasn't an option either. With a resigned sigh, he began to pull off his hoodie, the fabric rustling in the confined space. He handed it to her, trying to avoid making eye contact. "Here," Auston said, his voice gruff and his eyes still closed. "Just make it quick."

Blair took the hoodie, her frustration still simmering but appreciating the gesture nonetheless. She turned her back to him, slipping off her stained blouse and quickly pulling on Auston's hoodie. The fabric was warm, still wet from the coffee stain, and besides smelling like it, smelled faintly of his cologne, a detail she tried to ignore as she adjusted the sleeves.

"Auston?" Mitch called out again, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. Auston knew that Mitch wouldn't leave until he found him, and that made their predicament even worse. "Alright, Blair, just think," Auston hissed, "We've gotta figure something out. He's not going to leave."

Blair, now clad in Auston's hoodie, took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. They were in a tight spot, literally and figuratively, and the urgency of their situation was growing by the second. She crossed her arms, looking up at him, "Well, go out there then."

"Yeah, right," Auston chuckled quietly, waving a hand as if it was a joke, but when he met Blair's gaze he knew she was serious. "You can't be serious, right?"

Blair stared back at Auston with a determined expression. "Dead serious. I need to get out of here unnoticed, Mitch is not leaving until he finds you, and the longer we stay in here, the worse it looks."

Auston sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But you're... you're in my hoodie, Blair. If I walk out there shirtless, people will talk."

Blair rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Let them talk. It's not like they haven't seen you shirtless before," She paused, shuddering from the now cold stain on her shirt underneath. "What, you'd rather me go out there wearing your clothes?"

"No, of course not, I just-" Auston started, but he was cut off as Blair swiftly opened the door a crack big enough for him, hiding herself behind it, and pushing him out into the hallway before shutting the door again.

Auston stumbled slightly as Blair pushed him out into the hallway, his bare chest exposed to the cool air. Mitch quickly turned around from the noise, raising an eyebrow as he glared at the shirtless Auston that had just appeared. "Uh, hey, man, where did you come from? And why do you have no shirt on?"

Auston stood awkwardly in the hallway, his bare chest feeling uncomfortably exposed. Mitch's incredulous stare didn't help the situation either. "Uh, long story," Auston muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Just... spilled coffee and went to clean up."

Mitch's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. He crouched down, picking up the now-empty Starbucks cup from the ground. "This one? I didn't know you were one for sugar cookie oat lattes."

Auston glanced at the cup Mitch held, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't raise more suspicion. "Yeah, well, I was in the mood for something different," he replied vaguely, shifting uncomfortably under Mitch's scrutiny.

Mitch raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Auston's explanation. "Right. Well, you dropped your phone." He said, stretching out his arm to hand Auston his phone back.

Auston took his phone from Mitch, offering a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Mitch. I've been looking for it" He tucked the phone into his pocket, glancing down the hallway as if considering his next move.

Mitch crossed his arms, still eyeing Auston suspiciously. "You sure you're okay, man? You seem... off."

Auston shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool despite the uncomfortable situation. "Yeah, just one of those days, you know?"

Mitch nodded slowly, clearly not convinced but deciding not to press further. "Alright, well, see you around, I guess."

Auston's eyes widened as he saw Mitch take a step in the direction of the closet. "Mitch!" he blurted out, "Let's go get a coffee, yeah?" he suggested awkwardly, nodding his head in the opposite direction. "Spilled mine anyway."

Mitch raised an eyebrow, clearly still suspicious, but he decided to go along with Auston's suggestion. "Alright, sure. Let's go," he replied, turning away from the closet and heading down the hallway with Auston.

As they walked, Auston kept glancing over his shoulder, hoping that Blair made it out without anyone seeing her.

to be continued!

[misshoneyimhome]

voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir I Simon Benoit 🖋️⚡️

Requested? Yes / No

Summary; The arrival of a new player on the team has drawn your attention, and in your role as a content creator for the Toronto Maple Leafs, you must proceed cautiously to find out whether you've also captured his interest.

I know, I'm terrible with summaries...

Other notes; Babes! We need to put on warnings when your requests introduce me to players with cute accents! 😂 I don't know why, but I've got a soft spot, alright (seriously got sucked down the rabbit hole while watching videos of him😅) 🤍 Anyway, so here is my very first smutty Simon Benoit fic - and I just hope you enjoy it 😊

Tropes & Warnings; sort of secret love; 18+ smut; fingering, protected penetrative sex (p in v);

Words counts; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

・✶ ｡ﾟ

“Strength does not come from physical capacity - it comes from an indomitable will” - Tattoo on Simon Benoit’s chest.

_

Simon Benoit was nothing short of extraordinary. At least in your opinion.

Being part of the Toronto Maple Leafs community meant you were no stranger to the inner workings of the hockey world and the turmoil it brought every single day. From game nights filled with cheers and adrenaline to quiet moments of support and camaraderie, you'd seen it all from your perspective as a social media content creator.

And when Simon Benoit joined the team for the 23/24 season, he immediately caught your eye.

You weren't entirely sure what it was, yet there was simply something about the Quebecois defenceman that intrigued you from the start. Perhaps it was his effortless grace on the ice or the way his determination shone through every move. Or the way he battled at every opportunity, not accepting when things weren’t right or fair. Regardless of what it was, you found yourself drawn to him in a way that was both exciting and intimidating. His large frame, both in height and in width, made you seem like a small mouse compared to him, even in your heels. Yet his demeanour was nothing but friendly and soothing, which quickly evaporated all the harsh exterior.

But as much as you wanted to get to know Simon better, it wasn't easy, as his focus on his career and athletic performance left little room for anything else. You rarely crossed paths outside of the arena, and when you did, he was usually surrounded by teammates or lost in his own thoughts.

Despite the challenges, you couldn't help but admire his dedication and drive. Watching him on the ice, in the weight room, or on the training field, it was clear that he poured his heart and soul into every game and anything he did, leaving nothing behind but sweat and determination. And while it made getting close to him difficult, it only added to the allure.

Every day, you found yourself stealing glances whenever he was on the ice, marvelling at his skill and tenacity as you captured pictures and videos of the team for the social media platforms. And when the opportunity arose to interact with him, even in passing, you treasured every moment, no matter how fleeting.

Yet deep down, you knew that if you wanted to truly get to know Simon Benoit, you'd have to find a way to break through his walls and connect with him on a deeper level.

It wouldn't be easy, but then again, nothing worth having ever was.

_

Navigating the workflow with the Leafs wasn’t always easy, but most of the time you felt like you had it all under control. You knew you were good at your job, and most of the staff members of the company recognised your work and effort.

You weren’t particularly shy by nature, nor were you the most extroverted person. You had your small, close group of friends and occasionally went out. However, your work took much of your time, especially when the managers wanted you to travel with the team, so you didn’t exactly party or live the crazy life in the city. Instead, you kept your life rather chill and easy-going, focusing on various ways to improve your skills and just enjoying being in your early to mid-twenties.

And to the team, you were simply a nice person, hanging around and making funny videos from time to time. You didn’t particularly spend much time with them outside of hockey, yet you felt like you had a nice bond with most of the players and their partners.

In a way, you were content with your life. Sure, it was busy and sometimes overwhelming, but it was also fulfilling and exciting. The only person you were truly interested in knowing more about was Simon.

Naturally, you made efforts to insert yourself whenever the media team wanted to interview him, but you also wanted to maintain an air of nonchalance. So, you played it cool.

Well, as cool as possible, until it came time for his turn in the Blue Room session.

You found yourself unable to suppress your smiles and giggles at each of his responses. He effortlessly delivered humour, exuding relaxation and authenticity. It was akin to witnessing a more intimate side of him, one unmasked by his athletic prowess. And as he spoke, you hung onto his every word, enchanted by his charisma and genuineness. It was in these moments that the desire to know him beyond the confines of the hockey rink intensified.

And to your surprise, Simon seemed to take notice of you too.

"That's a cute laugh," he remarked suddenly as the session drew to a close, causing you to glance up from your phone, taken aback by his boldness.

"Oh... erm... thanks," you replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice. "I mean, I've always hated it..."

Your heart raced as you found yourself in close proximity to the defenseman, the two of you lingering amidst the team's clean-up efforts after his milk-guessing antics.

But to your relief, Simon didn't seem to pick up on your nerves. Instead, he simply chuckled.

"Why hate it?" he inquired, his charming French-Canadian accent adding to the allure.

You couldn't help but blush. "Oh, I don't know," you admitted softly. "It just feels a bit... loud and weird..."

"So?" Simon chuckled again. "You should embrace it. It's cute."

You were left speechless. Simon Benoit found your laughter cute? You felt like a schoolgirl, standing there, blushing under his gaze as he offered a compliment.

This wasn't like you. You were usually confident in your interactions with guys. You knew you were pretty good-looking, had a pleasant demeanour and got along well with most people. Yet, this hockey player had you feeling flustered, your stomach aflutter with butterflies, and your mind in a whirl.

You wanted to say something. Perhaps even suggest grabbing coffee together. But before you could gather your thoughts, Simon was called back to re-join the team's training session. And as he flashed you a friendly smile on his way out, a twinge of disappointment washed over you. Had you just missed your chance?

_

Luckily, that wasn't your only chance.

Although conversations between you and Simon remained limited post-Blue Room filming, there were frequent exchanges of glances and smiles in the hallway or aboard the plane.

Whenever your camera was in hand, Simon would flash you a smile, his gaze lingering a tad longer as he greeted you with a warm "hi." You reciprocated the gesture. It was a subtle dance of silent, discreet flirtation, or perhaps not entirely flirtatious, yet there lingered an unspoken connection beyond mere friendliness.

And while on the road, shortly after Simon inked his three-year contract with the Leafs, you were on the brink of discovering if there was indeed something more between you.

Amidst the whirlwind of travel chaos and the players' hectic schedules, you settled into your seat on the plane, laptop in front of you, attempting to unwind for the flight ahead.

Meanwhile, Simon couldn't help but steal occasional glances in your direction. Your focused expression, the way you nibbled on the end of your pen while engrossed in your laptop screen, didn't escape his notice, eliciting a smile from him.

You were so incredibly beautiful, and your laughter was nothing but contagious. Yet Simon knew he had to tread cautiously. He didn't want to come across as the new guy making moves on the women of the team. Moreover, his primary focus was on his career. Despite its ups and downs, his love for the sport remained unwavering, and he was determined to prove himself and relish every moment.

So, he attempted to maintain a slight distance from you. Tried, being the operative word. You seemed to be around all the time, and he couldn't ignore the subtle sparks you ignited within him. No matter how hard he tried to keep his focus solely on the game and his professional trajectory, there was something about you that made it challenging to keep his distance. Perhaps it was your laid-back demeanour or the genuine warmth that exuded from you.

Nevertheless, Simon found himself drawn to you, even as he strived to uphold a level of professionalism. In the tight-knit world of hockey, he was wary of stirring up any unnecessary drama within the team. Yet, as the flight progressed and the hours slipped away, he couldn't shake the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something worth exploring between the two of you.

The match against the Bruins proved to be a challenge, resulting in a disappointing 4-1 loss for the Leafs. However, redemption came swiftly with a hard-fought 3-2 victory against the Montreal Canadiens two days later. 

The locker room reverberated with cheers following the intense game, where the captain had sealed the win with the third goal. Yet, amidst the jubilation, it was the smiles of a certain defenseman that caught your attention.

Though Benoit hadn't seen action on the ice tonight, his joy mirrored that of his teammates, his eyes occasionally finding their way to you at the back of the room as the managers urged the players to simply enjoy in their triumph.

Instead of heading straight home to Toronto, the team had opted to stay overnight, given the upcoming days off. So, while the players ventured out for some well-deserved fun, you decided to retreat to the hotel to tackle some work.

It was nothing too taxing, just some photo editing from the evening's events. You even brought your laptop to the bar, indulging in a glass of white wine while putting the finishing touches on the social media content.

However, suddenly, a voice broke through your focused reverie.

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to be having fun, not working," Simon chuckled as he sidled up next to you at the bar.

Startled by his sudden appearance, you nearly choked on your drink, momentarily at a loss for words. "Oh, erm... yeah, I just needed to, um, wrap up some media stuff," you managed, flashing him a sheepish smile.

"And you're drinking while working?" he teased, his laughter filling the air once more.

"Gotta make work a little more enjoyable, right?" you quipped back with a playful grin, before shaking your head slightly. "By the way, I never got the chance to congratulate you on the contract!" you steered the conversation towards a more professional and friendly tone, prompting Simon to casually lean against the bar, his smile unwavering.

"Oh, yeah, thanks! It's... it's good to have that one in place," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of relief.

"I can imagine," you replied gently. "Dealing with contracts always seem to be quite the challenge."

"Definitely... it's been a bit nerve-wracking, but also exciting," he echoed your soft tone.

"So, I guess it's time for everyone to get to know more about Simon Benoit then," you attempted to maintain a light-hearted tone.

"Yeah, maybe... so, if you ever feel like it, you can just... interview me, or something..." he chuckled softly.

"Maybe I will…” you smiled back.

There was a brief pause as you silently pondered why he was suddenly engaging in this spontaneous conversation with you.

"Wait, why are you here, Benny? Shouldn't you be out with the boys?" you finally asked.

"Oh, I was, but we were just a few who wanted to head back early before things got too monkey like," he explained, his smile serene as he stood close, the scent of beer subtly lingering around him, his tall frame nearly matched your seated position on the highchair.

"Monkey-like?" you couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Yeah, you know, some of the single guys wanted to flirt with girls, so... Cap and a few others preferred to head back and chat with their partners instead," he explained.

You smiled, relishing the closeness and the opportunity to converse with him like this. Yet, his words lingered in your mind. "And you... you have to call your... girlfriend too?" you asked, your voice soft and tinged with a hint of hesitancy, not wanting to appear too nervous or disappointed by his potential response.

Simon met your gaze for a moment before shaking his head gently. "Nah, no girl waiting for me at home," he replied simply and casually, prompting a soft sigh of relief and a smile to form on your lips.

"But you didn't feel like flirting with anyone else either?" you chuckled lightly, a blend of playfulness and nervousness.

Simon remained calm and collected, offering you a soft glance before speaking softly. "Why would I bother flirting with strangers when there's a perfectly beautiful girl right here in this bar?" he said, his tone laced with flirtation, a smile playing on his lips. His words sent warmth coursing through you, leaving an undeniable impact.

He was smooth, undeniably so. And you found yourself falling for his charm.

Desperate to maintain your composure, you took another sip of your drink, then smoothly licked your lips as you considered your response. "You certainly have a way with words, don't you?" you remarked, a playful smirk gracing your features. “Knowing how to impress a girl…” 

"Well, that depends... is it working?" 

As you glanced at the dwindling contents of your glass and then back at him with a suggestive smile, you felt a surge of desire.

"Maybe..." you replied coyly, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes…” 

When you first joined the club as a content creator, getting involved with players was the last thing on your mind. In fact, you had mentally resolved never to entertain any romantic entanglements with the team. And so far, it hadn't been a challenge. While the players were undoubtedly attractive in their own right, there had never been a spark with any of them. That is, until Simon joined the team.

So, downing the last drops of your wine, you rose from your seat, gathering your phone and laptop before making your way to the lift, with Simon following closely behind.

Nothing was rushed. It was all happening at a rather slow pace as neither of you wanted to seem too eager. Yet the build-up tension between you was evident. The longing for each that had been lingering for months was hanging thick in the air. And it wasn’t until you were stopping outside your hotel room door, you locked eyes with his.

Pressing your lips together, you struggled to find the words you longed to speak. "I, uh... I've got my own room... I mean, I'm not sharing it with anyone..." you murmured softly.

And that was all the encouragement Simon needed. Closing the distance between you, he captured your lips with his own, pressing you gently against the door in a fervent kiss, igniting a passion that had been simmering between you for months.

It was everything you had imagined and more. The kiss was perfect—gentle yet passionate, fulfilling the fantasies you had long harboured. Simon's hands on your jaw, his fingers delicately threading through your hair as he drew you closer, felt like a dream. His tongue, a subtle yet insistent invitation, prompted your lips to part, eagerly meeting his in a dance of desire. There was no mistaking the mutual longing that enveloped you both in that moment.

Managing to locate your key card amidst the haze of desire, you gently pushed open the door, inviting him into your small hotel room.

The dimmed lights cast a romantic glow, heightening the intimacy as you both explored each other's bodies with slow, tender caresses. Simon's size and strength made it effortless for him to lift you into his arms, carrying you to the bed without breaking the connection of your lips.

And your kisses remained fervent as you slowly undressed each other, shedding shirts and trousers until you were both clad in nothing but underwear. Heels were kicked aside, forgotten in the heat of the moment, leaving you lying on your back in lacy lingerie with the hockey player hovering above you.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, a hint of concern in his voice, mindful of any boundaries that might exist between a hockey player and an MLSE employee.

But in that moment, you didn't care about titles or roles. You were simply two individuals consumed by desire. So, with a light smile, you nodded, giving him the silent permission to continue, letting go of any rationalisations or inhibitions that might have held you back.

And just like the night had been so far, his touch was tender, each movement deliberate as he slowly removed your lacy knickers, exposing your core to him. His fingers traced along the skin of your thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through you as they inched closer to your centre. And when his digits finally made contact with your sensitive flesh, you couldn't help but gasp, your fingers finding his strong arms for support.

Simon then gently pleasured you, and small moans escaped your lips, betraying the wonderful feeling coursing through your body. And iIt didn't take long before those moans turned into sweet cries of ecstasy as his fingers pressed against your entrance, stretching you as they eased their way inside.

His fingers, much like the rest of him, were long and thick, and you couldn't shake the awareness that your colleague was just next door as Simon stimulated your walls, his movements deliberate and eager to bring you pleasure. Yet, your soft moans and cries only spurred him on, each pump of his fingers eliciting a delicious sensation as he curled them upwards, seeking out that particularly sensitive spot.

"Oh, fuck," you exclaimed as he hit the mark perfectly, his movements growing quicker in response to your cries, your fingers digging into his skin in a desperate grip. "Yes... right there..."

And he understood his mission completely, pumping his fingers with precision to drive you towards the brink of climax. And as he kept on going, his determined motions sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, causing your vision to blur as you arched your back and reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Oh, yes..." you panted, gasping for air as the rush of pleasure washed over you, your toes curling as you reached your high.

Gently the man above you then pumped a few more times through your orgasm, as he simply enjoyed  the wetness he had caused between your legs, before withdrawing his fingers.

"Shit, every sound you make is so fucking amazing," Simon murmured under his breath, his hardness pressing against him, aroused by the stimuli he had provided you. Your moans, much like your laughter, were nothing but music to his ears.

So, without hesitation, he crawled back to discard his own boxers, before covering his length with the condom you tossed him. 

"Gotta be responsible, right?" you smiled, flashing him a flirtatious, confident wink as you took pride in being prepared. And Simon simply chuckled in response, returning to the mattress and kneeling between your legs, before he then pulled you close to him, wrapping your legs around him as he lined the tip of his cock with your entrance before slowly pushing in.

It was no secret that Simon was a large man. Standing at 6'4" and weighing 205 lbs, he was undeniably substantial, and his hard member only reflected that. He knew he had to go slow, taking his time as he controlled the movements of his hips perfectly from this angle.

So, with a firm grip on your thighs and hips, he gently stretched your walls inch by inch, eliciting soft sounds of pleasure from you, causing you to grasp onto the pillow behind you as he reached your depths.

"Oh yes, ma puce," Simon hummed under his breath, relishing in the tightness of your smaller frame around him, before he then began to pull out and push back in, settling into a slow and steady rhythm to ease into the experience.

"Mmm, oh," you moaned softly, the sensation of his movements sending waves of pleasure through you, your legs trembling in response to his deep penetration.

The pace was a perfect blend of slow and steady, each thrust filled with deep passion. You found yourself panting for air as he gradually increased the intensity, feeling your muscles adjust to accommodate his size.

Yet, though he tried to maintain control, Simon couldn't deny the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him as your bodies melted together. With each movement, you pushed him closer to the edge, fuelling his desire for more.

However, resisting the urge to push harder and faster, he instead leaned over your petite form and captured your lips in a hungry kiss. He then took a strong hold of your body, urging you to wrap your arms around his neck as he lifted you from the mattress, positioning you to straddle him as he leaned back on his heels.

It wasn’t exactly an easy position to master at first, but as you sank deeper onto his cock, a loud, uncontrolled moan escaped your lips. And almost instinctively, you grabbed onto his brown locks and began to bounce on him.

“Oh yes, mmm baby, that’s it,” he encouraged seductively, his hands guiding your hips as you moved your core up and down his shaft. Cries of pleasure slipped from your tongue and lips, the intensity overwhelming any attempt at connecting in sloppy kisses, while pearls of sweat formed on your skin as you moved in sync, lost in pure pleasure.

“Mmm, god, it feels... so good,” you softly whined as you found a rhythm, your thighs controlling your motions while his strong embrace kept you in place. Your grip in his hair tightened with every passing moment as he stimulated you from within, and soon, you couldn’t hold back your eagerness to reach the impending second orgasm.

And Simon sensed your urgency as your muscles clenched, your panting uncontrolled, and your motions fervent. “Yes, ma puce… come for me, come on my dick,” he encouraged seductively, his hands guiding your hips to move faster, before he allowed his thumb to seek out your clit, and give you the final push. 

You didn’t need to be told twice. Bouncing a few times more vigorously, you let out a deep moan as you pushed yourself to your second climax, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes.

Barely able to hold your own body upright, Simon had you secured as you let the rush of pleasure take over. And you couldn’t ignore that your legs trembled as your core pulsated around him, this being one of the most intense orgasms you’d experienced in a long time.

Breathing became close to difficult, but you managed to refill your lungs with air as you collected yourself, slowly coming out of the euphoric state.

Simon gave you the time you needed to come down from the high, yet he felt his own climax approaching. With the tightness of your core around him, it was increasingly difficult to hold back. So, as he sensed you were back to reality, your satisfied smile indicating your pleasure as you leaned back and opened your eyes, he crashed his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss while pressing you back down into the mattress and picking up forceful thrusts.

Driven by nothing but primal instincts, Simon then pounded vigorously into you, the echoes of your moans ringing in his ears. The air was thick with the scent of sex, the noises of your bodies colliding with force filling the room. And you knew your neighbour was likely to hear you, but you didn’t care. Your mind and body had surrendered to the team’s new defenceman, and you did nothing to stop him from pushing himself closer to his own climax, thrusting with every bit of energy he had in him until he let out a deep grunt, accompanied by a few French curse words, as he released himself into the condom.

You could barely move as Simon rested on top of you, both of your breaths deep and eager. None of you spoke as the high slowly faded, and it was only with care that Simon withdrew himself, offering you a quick kiss before he went to discard the condom.

Your body still tingled from the latest orgasm, as if months of silent flirting had finally found release. Catching your breath, you couldn't help but smile as the hockey player returned to the bed.

Naturally, you both knew he couldn’t stay the night; no one should know he’d been the cause of your loud moans. However, during breakfast, neither of you could resist sending glances across the room. And during the plane ride back to Toronto, you shared only secret messages, trying not to draw attention from your teammates.

Yet that only lasted a few days before Max caught on to the sexual tension between you, and with his big mouth running, soon everyone on the team knew.

Initially, you felt a little embarrassed. However, as you overheard Simon talking about how good it felt to finally give in to his desires and wanting to find a way to ask you out, you felt a level of pride and warmth within you.

And fortunately, it didn’t take long before you finally went on your very first official date.

[couponmains]

Beebeep games widows

There is a major problem on Long Island these days. When the Islanders score a big goal, it’s butchers hugging bakers or electricians hugging teachers, not an account executive Instagramming a picture from the lower bowl with a trendy restauranteur. When Nassau Coliseum is at her best, she captures this feeling and surrounds you with it. In my mind, this is a lot of what the Islanders stood for - they were a team of the community, not a product of a city. He wanted to live in a place where he could sit on his front porch and make his neighbors laugh as they walked past. Like Islander fans, Pop chose this physical place over the glitz of New York City. Pop never realized it, but he was a huge reason I loved the Islanders the way I did. In the old ABA days, Julius Erving regularly dunked there, as well. Elvis and Bruce Springsteen came, and Long Island’s own Billy Joel also rocked the house. Beyond the heyday of the Islanders, there were big concerts. If you go to hockey games simply to watch hockey games, you love the Nassau Coliseum.ĭecades ago, the Coliseum also was a cultural polestar. There isn’t a seat in the entire building where you lose sight of the puck, and the upper-deck seats are closer to the ice than some lower decks in modern arenas. In that era, the Islanders were so good that people started referring to Nassau Coliseum as “Fort Neverlose.”ĮSPN’s ranking system also didn’t take into account the Coliseum’s flawless sightlines. The Coliseum was the home of the 1980s Islander dynasty, a team of folk heroes that won four straight Stanley Cups and 19 (!!) straight playoff series. The place was built for jersey-wearing hardcore fans and those with an appreciation for the sport and the building’s history. No Islander fan will tell you that the Coliseum is state-of-the-art, and she certainly isn’t beautiful, but neither are the Islanders. Today, an arena is judged based on amenities and concessions rather than the in-game experience it provides. That’s dead last - a position we’ve grown far too accustomed to on Long Island over the last couple of decades as the team struggled.Īnd you know what? ESPN doesn’t have a clue. Just the other day, ESPN ranked the Coliseum as the 122nd-best home facility in the four major sports. It has long been called a dump and is famously mocked as the “Nassau Mausoleum.” Even the arena’s Wikipedia page calls it “obsolete.” By now, hockey folks have the world convinced that the Coliseum is as useful to the sport as Blockbuster Video is to Hollywood. Gloriously unsponsored, the Coliseum stands as a weathered monolith in Uniondale, an urbanized town right in the middle of the county. Nassau County is the home of the Islanders and the woefully-inadequate-by-modern-standards Coliseum. President.”Īll so many years later, when we would ask him if he got to touch her ass, he would saying nothing, but a sheepish grin would trickle across his face and his blue eyes would twinkle. The son of an Irish Immigrant, a man whose mother was widowed with eight kids after Pop was born, literally had set the stage for Monroe’s infamously taunty “Happy Birthday, Mr. None was more interesting than the time he, along with his partner Al Gore (not the guy who invented the Internet), served as bodyguards for Marilyn Monroe at Madison Square Garden on May 19, 1962.Īs the story goes, Monroe’s dress was too tight for her to navigate the stairs, so Pop and Al Gore had to hoist her up to get her up on stage. Well-regarded by both his peers and supervisors, Pop began getting picked for some batty assignments. After a few years on the force, he joined thousands of other veterans and moved his family east to the suburbs. Pop served in World War II, came back alive, got hitched, and joined the New York (City) Police Department. He was, though, as much of a full-blooded Islander as anybody I knew. Born in The Bronx almost 90 years ago, there were way too many generational hurdles for him to get into hockey. Unlike his borderline lunatic grandson, my grandfather (“Pop”) never got into the Islanders. My family’s story is quintessentially Long Island. Everybody has a story about how they originally got where they came from.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 27

Word Count: 3,429

POV:  Reader

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes:  Here we are again. I think you all might kill me in future chapters so for now, let’s enjoy this one...haha. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

It was less than two weeks after your conversation with Mario that you and Sid were traveling to Los Angeles for the All Star game. Geno and Anna were supposed to be with you, but because of an injury, they had to back out. It was better for him to rest up anyhow. For Sid, it was more work than fun, though he did have a more carefree attitude than when he's normally on the ice. The two of you did sneak in some nice alone time over the few days.

Once you were back in Pittsburgh, it was business as normal. Well, maybe normal wouldn't be the right word for you, as you were busy helping with the Stadium series game that would take place at the end of February against the Flyers. Your hours were a little later when you were in town, which Sid didn't mind as he just spent extra time on the ice or watching films while he waited for you. You insisted that you could just take separate cars, but he wouldn't hear of it. It was really quite cute of him. 

The days leading up to the game were packed. The guys were doing media and squeezing in practices with their new equipment, while you worked behind the scenes with the rest of the crew setting things up. You wanted Heinz Field to feel just like PPG Arena did for them. The weather had everyone in a tither as Pittsburgh had got a bit of a warm front. Days leading up to the game saw temperatures in the seventies which was almost unheard of, for a February in Pennsylvania. In fact, on the day of the family skate, you were all literally wearing jeans and lightweight sweaters as you stood around watching the guys practice. 

"Will you hold Scar for me?" Vero asked. You were watching the guys practice with the ladies today, instead of by the bench. It was a rare occurrence that you got to take a game in with them, so it was a nice change of pace. She handed baby Scarlett off to you while she bent down and put on Estelle's skates. 

"Hello, sweetness," you said to the one-and-a-half-year-old, kissing her little cheeks in the process. "Do you see daddy out there?" You pointed out where Marc Andre was and Scarlett smiled. 

"Hi, daddy!" She yelled, but you weren't entirely sure he could hear her, as he was all the way down in net. "Unc Sid!" She exclaimed when Sidney came by and tapped on the glass. 

"Hi Scar!" He waved at her then gave you a look. One you weren't entirely sure you'd ever seen, before skating away leaving you to wonder what was going through his head. Practice ended soon thereafter and you all joined the guys out on the ice. Though most of them shed their pads due to the heat of the afternoon sun. 

"Ice looked a little slushy," you commented to Sid when he skated over to you.

"It's not bad. They said the temperature's supposed to drop tonight and tomorrow so we'll be ok. Come on." He grabbed your hand pulling you out onto the ice with him. It was something you still weren't comfortable doing. Sid could literally skate circles around anyone, while you still had to concentrate if you wanted to go backward. He recognized that and always made sure he held onto you so that you wouldn't fall. "You looked good out there." He said offhandedly as you made your way around the now shiny surface of the ice.

"Huh? I wasn't doing anything. I'm pretty sure I should be saying that to you."

"That's not what I meant."

"Obviously," you said hitting him playfully and losing your balance at the same time. Sid righted you with ease so that to the casual onlooker they never would've seen you stumble. 

"I meant holding Scarlett."

"Oh well, she's easy to love that's for sure. I'm going to miss them when they go." With the expansion team coming to Vegas, it was already widely known within the team that Flower would be the member they would choose. It was crushing, not only to you but to Sid as well. Your friendship with the Fleury's was one of the things you both treasured most; they were the reason you were with Sid right now. And while they would always be some of your best friends' things wouldn't be the same in Pittsburgh without them. 

"I know," Sid replied wistfully. "But we've still got them for now." You skated around a few more times, before he let you go, only so that he could wrap his arms around your midsection and skate with you from behind. It was definitely intimate and you were surprised with all the media around that Sid was into such a public display of affection. Sure there had been the parades, but usually, he tried to keep your relationship out of the public eye if he could. "I just think you really looked good." He whispered in your ear.

"You've seen me in this outfit before."

"Not that, you know…" You had to crane your neck back to look at him, but you noticed he was turning a bit red and it had nothing to do with the unseasonably warm temperatures. "Holding Scarlett." He finally spit out. "It makes me think about having our own."

"OH!" The word came out a little louder than you intended. Of course, Sid had confessed that he wanted kids with you. It just seemed like something that was further away in the future and not something that he'd been thinking about recently. 

"I know you're going to tell me it's too soon, and maybe you're right. I just can't help but think about it on days like today." You looked around then, watching all the guys skate with their significant others, some with kids while others had kids on the way. You could see the allure. As the two of you continued to glide around the ice, you let your mind wander to what it would be like. It was easy to picture, especially after watching Sid this summer with his Little Penguins camp. He'd be holding your son's or daughter's hands, much like Flower was doing now with Estelle, helping them navigate the ice. When Sid's hands tightened around your waist you couldn't stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to be growing his child inside you. You found yourself relaxing more into Sid's embrace as you daydreamed about your future. 

"It's definitely a nice picture," you finally sighed, letting him know that you weren't opposed to the idea.

"Yeah, yeah it is." His voice took on a dreamy quality and you knew he was imagining the same thing as you. It seemed like one minute you were caught up in your little fantasy and the next you guys were having to leave the ice and it was back to reality. Not that your reality was a bad one, you still had Sid and for now, that's all you needed. 

Sid was right temperatures definitely cooled down. By game time the following day, it was barely thirty degrees and falling. You were bundled up in a coat with the team logo on it along with a matching tossle cap on your head. Sid had been mad that you hadn't worn the one all the ladies got with their guys' number on it, but you had insisted that when you were on the clock you were rooting for the entire team and not just him. At the moment you were wishing you had it so that you could put it on top of your current one. Your teeth were chattering and you kept bouncing on the balls of your feet to keep you warm. 

Midway through the first Sid scored, which had you jumping up and down and cheering along with the team as well as the thousands of fans in the stadium. It did little to help get you warm and you were practically running to the locker room tunnel by end of the first. You grabbed a cup of hot tea while the players went over the first period and where they could make improvements. It went pretty much the same way in the second, even though Nick Bonino scored early the Flyers were able to cut the lead in half with a goal from Jakub Voracek. Again, you raced off to get warm as soon as the horn sounded. 

Your feet were numb by the time Cully scored a goal early in the third, and though the Flyers scored on a power play, Chad Ruhwedel sealed the Pens victory with over five minutes left in play. The stadium erupted with the win, though it did little to warm you up. You stayed long enough to watch the team skate around in their little victory lap, then headed back down to the nice warm locker room. 

Of course, Sid had to do media, which meant you were there even longer. He was afforded the luxury of a nice hot shower before the two of you headed home. "Can you please turn the heat up?" you whined once you were in the car. "I'm freezing."

"It was a bit cold out there, eh?" Sid commented as he turned the heat on your side of the vehicle to max. 

"Ya think? I thought I was going to freeze to death when the snow started to fly."

"Babe, it's all part of outdoor hockey." He grabbed one of your hands in his. "Fuck, you are cold. You should've worn thermals or something."

"Trust me I will next time. I think it's just worse because of how beautiful it was yesterday."

"Well, as soon as we get home, we'll get you in the tub."

"Uh, yes, please." The ride through the city, while mostly traffic free, seemed endless. 

"Head upstairs, babe and I'll bring you up a cup of tea as soon as I get rid of my gear." Not having to be told twice, you made your way up to your shared master bath and started running the water. You hated stripping out of your clothes, as it felt like the only warmth your body had at the moment but as soon as your toes touched the steaming water, you sighed as the warmth heated your skin. You were fully immersed up to your neck by the time Sid came up with a steaming mug full of tea. "Better?"

"A little," you answered taking a sip of the drink he'd prepared perfectly for you before setting it back down on the ledge of the tub. "Still a bit chilly." 

"Well in that case." Sid started to strip out of his clothes. Divesting himself of his suit that he'd worn to the game. He folded it over the chair you used to put your makeup on, so that it didn't get any wrinkles, then made his way over to you and the tub. "Scooch up, babe." You did and he scooted in behind you, easing you back against him once he was comfortable in the water. His arms wrapped around you instantly and you felt engulfed in his heat. "This better?"

"Mmm much." You were completely content wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms with the water lapping around you both, so you rested your head against his chest. "You played really well tonight," you mused shutting your eyes and just giving yourself over to the warmth that was Sid.

"It was a lot of fun. I love playing outdoors. It's so authentic." Only Sid would put it like that, but you knew what he meant. "Though I wish you would've dressed warmer baby."

"I'm fine now." You took another long sip of tea, the temperature perfect. 

Sid kissed your temple. "Good, can't have you getting sick on me." 

"God no, I'll have to sleep in the guest room, if that happens."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to be responsible for getting the star player sick." You told him, turning your head so that you could look him in the eye. "You will not be missing a game because of me."

"I'd still probably end up missing a game because I wouldn't be able to sleep without you in our bed." His arms tightened around you, almost as if you were going to run off to the guest room right then. "But we're not worrying about that now, because we are definitely sleeping in the same bed tonight." His lips captured yours then, stealing your breath away and heating your body all the way to your core. You could feel his erecting grow against you as the kiss went on. It was nothing to reach behind you and wrap your fingers around his length. He moaned into your mouth, before gently sucking on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss. "You know two can play that game." His hand stole down your stomach and slipped between your folds, the water making it easy for him to caress you there. Your hand stuttered on his cock as he slid two fingers into you. Sid took the opportunity to grab your wrist with his free hand so that you could no longer manipulate him as you liked. "Lean your head back and enjoy this for a bit."

"But…"

"We'll get to that." He told you as he settled you against him once again. He shimmied his legs so that they were in between yours but only for a moment so that he could spread yours wide; your legs now splayed on either side of his. Sid's fingers continued to toy with your pussy, alternating between pumping in and out of you and rubbing circles on your clit, while his other hand tweaked your nipples into taut little peaks. Before you knew it you were panting with need, the chill of the evening game completely forgotten as Sid stoked a fire deep within you. His lips came down on the nape of your neck, his tongue driving you wild just as his fingers were. It was all too much as the water gently lapped at your skin. You felt your body gently rise into his touch, yet he held you firm working you towards that peak you craved. It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit. It washed over you like a wave cresting on the sand as your body trembled, this time not from the cold but the pleasure of Sid's touch. "You're so fucking sexy when you cum." His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine.

You were so sated you almost didn't want to move, but then you wanted him to experience the same ecstasy that you'd just felt. "We should…" you went to tell him that you should move to the bed but Sid had other plans.

"We'll be fine here, just kneel for a second." Your legs were already on either side of him, so it wasn't hard. He adjusted himself a bit, sitting more upright in the tub, before bending his knees slightly for you to lean against. You turned your head to the side to see him stroke himself a couple times, before lining himself up with your pussy. "Now just come back a little." You did as instructed; your pussy engulfing his cock as you basically sat reverse cowgirl on him. With his knees bent you leveraged yourself against them and started to ride his cock. "Fuck baby, you feel so good." His hands were on your hips making sure you wouldn't slip in the tub, but controlling your pace as well. 

Water sloshed against the sides of the tub, some of it spilling over the sides. "Oh shit," you moaned out knowing that you were making a mess of the bathroom floor. 

Sid could see where your thoughts were going. "Forget it, (Y/N). We'll get it later." He accentuated his words by thrusting up deep inside you. The action making you groan with desire. "That feel good, baby?"

"Yes," you cried out as he hit your g-spot again. "Right there," you panted and he hit the spot over and over again until you were convulsing around him in your second climax. 

"Jesus, (Y/N)," Sid moaned as your pussy gripped him like a vice. The grip he had on your hips tightened as he rammed into your cunt. He was so close to falling off the edge and cumming with you but he wanted to hold off, make it last longer, give you one more orgasm before he sought his own pleasure. Sid slowed his thrusts then, as you relaxed momentarily against his knees. "So fucking beautiful." It took you a moment to catch your breath before you started to move again. His thrusts weren't as deep as before, giving you a moment's reprieve before he went at it again. You knew Sid, knew he could keep up this leisurely pace all night if he wanted. The water was cooling though, and even though your body was still on fire after two orgasms you had no wish to be cold again. It was then that you decided to move your hips, rocking in a motion that you knew would drive him wild. And it did. It wasn't long before he was bucking up into you again. The water going everywhere now. Some of it even hitting his designer suit which rested across the room on the chair. "Fuck, (Y/N)," he hissed out and you could tell he wouldn't last much longer at this pace. He let one hand snake around to your clit. His fingers applying just the right amount of pressure there, as he rubbed circles into the little nub. 

"Sid, I'm gonna…"

"Yes, baby, yes," he groaned on the verge of hitting his peak as well. You were both there with a few thrusts. His hot cum filling you up as you quaked around him. The pleasure so intense you swore you saw stars. Sid collapsed against the back of the tub and while you wanted to follow, the position you were in did not make it that easy. It took a little maneuvering on both your parts, but soon you were back to lounging against Sid.

"We should get out." The water was definitely cooled now and this time you shivered from it.

"You still cold?"

"A little."

"Well, let's get you in bed then." The towel you had laid out was completely soaked, so you just laid it across the floor as you moved to get out of the tub. "Careful," Sid warned as you stepped out onto the shiny marble floor. You moved quickly yet cautiously to the cabinet and grabbed both of you a towel while laying down a few more to soak up the water. 

You'd just finished wrapping the fluffy white towel around your body when Sid scooped you up and headed towards the bedroom. "Sid, stop! I need to clean up that mess."

"It'll dry." He must have been anticipating how the night would go for the bed was already turned down as he placed you in the middle of the mattress. He scooted in behind you, discarding his towel in one swift motion, before sweeping the covers over both of you. His hands made quick work of ridding you of the wet cloth that was helping you dry. "They say body heat is the fastest way to warm someone up."

"Hmm, is that so," you said turning in his embrace. 

"Mmmhmm. I'm sure I read it somewhere."

"I'm sure you did. I'm just wondering what else this book said."

His hands were roaming up and down your back and gliding across the globes of your ass. "Oh, lots more."

You kissed his neck wanting to return the favor he had given you a while ago, then you moved to his chest before saying, "such as?" You continued your path downward over Sid's abs.

"I'm sure there was…" he sucked in a breath as you placed a warm kiss on his pelvis. "Fuck I can't think of a word." 

You grinned up at him from beneath the covers. "Let me see if I can make you forget all together." Sid lost all train of thought as your lips connected with his cock. The night continued on like that for a few more hours before the two of you were so sated you could do nothing but sleep. 

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry​ post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney​ as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore. 

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

--

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

--

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

--

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

--

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

[woah-were-halfway-there]

The Most Stressful Time of the Year.

A/N: Just a little something I thought up over these past few days that is pure fluff. (And my first hockey player one shot, yikes, so please be nice) Hope you enjoy 😊.

Word Count: 2.1k

“Aus, hey.”

Although your boyfriend was partially aware that he was being called, he was too focused on his phone to even bother giving whoever was talking to him any attention.

“Auston?”

His brows furrowed as he read through his text conversations with you. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The two of you were talking about a possible date to the Toronto Christmas Market in the upcoming weeks before you wished him luck, and he had to put his phone away to get ready for the game in Philly.

It was a tough loss against the Flyers, and the entire team was in pretty low spirits because of it, but what threw Auston off, even more, was how when they were getting ready to leave the arena, and he finally looked at his phone again, there wasn’t a single notification from you.

He was almost positive it was nothing, but he’d grown accustomed to having at least one message from you as soon as he got off the ice. It was your thing. After every game, you would always say how proud you were and how much you loved him, regardless of the score. Auston appreciated it immensely, and although he had grown so used to such a small yet meaningful action, it still made the butterflies in his stomach flutter with affection. So, to not see a message from you after a game; made him worry a little bit.

You were in the midst of exam season at uni and up to your ears in homework, which was why you didn’t tag along for the trip to Philadelphia in the first place so that you could attend the game in Toronto the following night; maybe go to the Raptors game the night after. Before the game, you told Auston that you’d be up late finishing your assignments and would meet him at Pearson just like you usually did. What you didn’t tell him though, was just how exhausted you were with everything going on in life at the moment. Although he did ask you how you were doing on multiple occasions earlier in the day, you insisted that you were fine and made sure to not show how tired you were during a brief facetime call the two of you shared.

As soon as he dipped out of the dressing room, Auston called you. Again, it was something he always did after a game; but when he was instantly met with your voicemail… he was a bit confused. So, he sent you a text.

Auston

Heading to the airport now. Can’t wait to see you, x.

He couldn’t help but anxiously glance at his phone every time it buzzed with a new notification in hopes that it was you saying you’d gone to get a bite to eat or something. However, when the device dinged, and it wasn’t a message from you, his facial features would fall slightly, and he’d let out a sigh; gestures that didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates as they made their way through the airport terminal.

As everyone boarded the plane, Auston tried once more to call you, getting in the way of John and William as they tried to pass him in the narrow hallway. He didn’t realize at the time, but a few of the guys were watching as he began pacing and stressfully pushing his free hand through his hair once reluctantly hung up his phone after being met by your voicemail again. It was then they decided maybe someone should see what was going on.

Freddie was the one who decided to step up and ask what was up. But it still took him a few tries to actually gain his teammates’ attention.

“MATTHEWS!”

Jumping at the sudden outburst behind him, Auston was quick in whipping around to face Freddie. “Woah! What’s your deal?”

“My deal? What’s your deal? You’ve been acting weird since we left the arena. Everything alright?”

Auston sighed.

“You’re going to think it’s pathetic.”

“More pathetic than I already think you are?” Freddie quipped. “I’m kidding. Clearly, something is bothering you. What’s going on?”

With another sigh, Aus explained the situation. He said how he didn’t want to think much about it because maybe you were just busy with schoolwork, but there was also this weird feeling about it all that he couldn’t shake. What if something happened to you?

Freddie was able to see where he was coming from easily. He knew of yours and Auston’s cheesy antics, having seen it first hand since the two of you started dating, and to be completely honest, even he found it a little strange that no one could get ahold of you… especially Auston.

“That is a little weird, not going to lie.”

“I know,” your boyfriend huffed as a flight attendant came by to say they’d be departing soon and for them to please take their seats. “I’m probably overthinking it, but, ugh, I don’t even know…”

“It’s part of your routine, man,” Freddie reasoned. “You’re worried cause you’re not used to suddenly not hear from her, any of us would be if it were our girlfriend. But, we’ll be back in Toronto in a couple of hours. I’m sure she’s fine and will be there waiting to pick you up.”

“You’re right, thanks, man,” Auston replied with a smile before getting into his seat and trying to relax for the flight home.

As soon as the plane landed and he was able to turn his phone off airplane mode, Auston stared at his phone, hopefully, thinking it would light up with just one simple message from, but still nothing. His face fell immediately, growing even more anxious as he gathered his things and exited the plane.

You ended up not being at the gate waiting for him, and that made him feel even worse. Panicked even. So, he tried calling you again to make sure you were ok.

All he cared about at that point was knowing that you were safe. He couldn’t have cared less about you not picking him up or texting him after the game; right then, all he wanted to know was that nothing had happened to you, and all would be fine. But yet, he still couldn’t get an answer.

“Hey, she’s probably at home asleep or at the library studying or something,” Mitch spoke up from behind him. “I just got off the phone with Steph, she was talking to her earlier tonight. Said she was exhausted but had a lot to work to do, I’m sure she’s fine, Aus.”

I’m sure she’s fine. No matter how many times he was told that it was becoming harder for Auston to believe. However, there wasn’t much he could do while stuck at Pearson and you somewhere downtown.

“Yeah, um, I think I’ll just stop by her apartment… Don’t think she’d be at the library this late. Think I could catch a ride with you and Mo?”

“Of course, let's go.”

The three men made their way into the city as quickly as they could with the odd late-night traffic. Your apartment was a one-bedroom in the Church-Wellesley Village. It resided above a coffee shop, and even with its small size, you never complained, despite it being in a rougher part of Toronto’s downtown core when comparing it to where Auston’s fancy condo was. You found it after your first year of university as you were moving out of student residence and had stayed there since. However, after dating Auston for as long as you have, you pretty much lived with him and had plans to not renew your lease in the spring so that you could properly move in together.

But your apartment was near your school, so it made sense that you crammed yourself up there rather than at Auston’s with how early some of your exams could be, and how much you hated waking up for them. Also, that’s where you said you were when you and he talked earlier in the day.

You liked your apartment, to put it simply, and although you’d never admit it… you much preferred being at Auston’s when he was there as opposed to alone because it didn’t quite feel like home just yet.

When Morgan pulled up outside of your building, Auston was quick in grabbing his stuff and bolting. He muttered a quick thanks and goodbye to his teammates, saying he’d keep them updated, before digging the key you gave him out of his pocket so he could use it to let himself in. He made his way up the dingy staircase to the second floor and walked down to the hall to your door, taking a deep breath before opening it and hopefully seeing you on the other side.

But your apartment was dark and empty.

Auston could see indications that you were there at some point when he switched the light on, but after a quick look through the space, he determined you were definitely not there. But where could you be? It was too late for the library to be open, he was sure someone would’ve known if you’d gone to a friend from school to study… but no one knew anything. It was as if you had vanished.

He raked his mind for ideas of where you could be, and the only other place he could think of was his condo. Again, although you never admitted it, Auston knew you didn’t love being at his condo alone. He was determined to make it feel like home for you and things were definitely progressing in that direction, but you still hadn’t moved in fully and he was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to be there on your own until that happened. But he figured there was nowhere else you could possibly be, so that’s where he headed.

It was a short Uber ride from your apartment down to where his condo was, but for Auston, it seemed like ages. He didn’t make very much conversation with the driver, just the basic hellos and how are yous, all while his knee bounced anxiously and, he wished he could just get there faster.

As soon as he arrived, he was rushing through the building's front doors and to the elevators. It took dreadfully long for him to finally get to his floor before the doors opened again and, he hurried down the hallway to his unit. He was quick unlocking the door and pushing it open, before letting out an audible sigh when he was able to see inside.

You were completely passed out. Curled up on the large sectional in the living room, surrounded by various notes and textbooks with your laptop still open on the glass coffee table. The blinds on the windows were still open, showcasing the nights CN tower light show in the distance, while Sportsnet's late-night reruns of NHL highlights played on the flat-screen TV.

Auston couldn’t help but chuckle at himself over how worried he’d gotten, but also at his relieved he was just to know you were safe.

With a slight shake of his head, he dropped his things by the door, took his shoes off, and made his way over to you. He gently scooped you up off the couch bridal style, smiling as you unconsciously nuzzled into his chest, and carried you to the bedroom. He tried so hard to not wake you, but struggled in opening the door while making sure to not drop you in the process; ultimately resulting in you being jolted awake.

“Aus?” You muttered sleepily while knuckling at your eyes. “W-when did you get home? What time is it?”

“Almost 3am,” he replied with a soft smile.

“What!? I- oh my god, I thought I set an alarm to wake me up if I fell asleep. I didn’t even see the whole game.”

“Trust me, you didn’t miss much. Was worried about you though, couldn’t get ahold of you regardless of how hard I tried.”

“Oh,” you said quietly as he laid you down on the bed and tucked you in before beginning to strip down to his boxers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- oh shit, I was supposed to pick you up I-.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he chuckled as he switched off the light and crawled into the bed beside you. The loud yawn you let out as he pulled you into his chest didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he couldn't help his smile as you instinctively cuddle up against him. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Are you ready for your exam tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Let’s get some rest then, yeah?”

“Deal,” you answered while letting your body gradually relax as you began falling sleep again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied and placed a soft peck to your forehead before holding onto you just a little bit tighter than usual, and eventually let himself drift off into a peaceful sleep as well.

[hockeynascarfan91258]

Okay here is my first fan fiction I ever posted on here! If you read it please leave me feedback I will appreciate it but please be kind! Thanks and Enjoy 😉

Lips of an Angel

Disclaimer: I don't own Kris Letang or Sidney Crosby nor do I own anything that pertains to them or the Pittsburgh Penguins. I don't own the song or lyrics to Lips of an Angel as they belong to Hinder. I do however own Aurora and anyone else you don't recognize. I also own the plot however it is based off my interpretation of the song.

Aurora was born and raised in Montreal Canada. She grew up and went to school with Kris Letang. They started off as best friends but it quickly grew into more and they became sweethearts. They were the same age and when they graduated high school they wanted different things. Aurora wanted to go to college and eventually go to Med School to be a Doctor with a specialty in Sports Medicine where Kris wanted to peruse his love of hockey. So, they parted ways and never looked back. Aurora went on to obtain a degree in Sports Medicine and then went on to become a Doctor. While in school she met Sidney Crosby as she worked for his junior team in Rimouski. After finishing college and completing her residency Aurora landing her dream job working for the Pittsburgh Penguins where Sidney had been drafted too.

Kris continued to play hockey. He played for the Val-d'Or Foreurs for a few seasons and also played for Team Canada in World Juniors. He was drafted to the Pittsburgh Penguins the day after Sidney Crosby but was sent down to the farm team the Wilkes Barre Penguins.

What happens when fate intervenes and a love Triangle is formed.

Chapter 1: Seeing Kris after all those years

Aurora and Sid had moved in together and the Sid’s first season was under way he was the Captain of the team and it was pretty neat to watch him play. It was a home game and Aurora didn’t have to work so she was attending the game as a fan. Sid and Aurora had just woken from their pre game nap.

“So are you excited to be attending your first game that you don’t have to work?” Sid asks he dressed in his suit and tie.

“Yes I am. I will actually get to watch you play.” Aurora replies.

“I know. I am glad. Are you sitting with the other wives and girlfriends in their section?” Sid asks.

“Yes I plan on it. Or do you not want me to? I know you are private.” Aurora says.

“No baby sit with them. I am not ashamed of you or our relationship. Besides our engagement is going to get out eventually.” Sid replies.

“True.” Aurora says.

She put on her Crosby jersey and jeans. A few minutes later Sid finished dressing. Aurora fixed his tie and then then head out to the car. Sid drives them to the arena and parks. They head inside.

“Good luck baby. I love you and will see you after the game.” Aurora says kissing him.

“Thanks baby. I love you too and will see you after the game.” Sid says before returning the kiss.

Aurora heads to grab food and then heads to the wives and girlfriends section. It was right behind the players bench so she was happy she would get to see Sid during warmups and when he was sitting on the bench during shifts he wasn’t playing. Aurora sits down and eats waiting for warm ups to start. That was when someone comes over to her.

“Mind if I sit down?” She asks.

“Nope not at all.” Aurora replies.

The girl sits down. Aurora had never seen her before so she was curious how she got into the wives and girlfriends section.

“I am Allison, my fiancée just got called up from Wilks Barre to play.” Allison says extending out her hand.

“Nice to meet you Allison. I am Aurora Bradley, I am engaged to the captain of the team Sidney Crosby.” Aurora replies taking her hand.

They chat and banter back and forth. That was warmups started and the Penguins took to the ice. Aurora was standing on the Penguins sidelines. That was when Kris came off the ice and stood right in front of Aurora. She had to do a double take not believing he was really there. Kris also did a double take not believing she was there as well.

"Aurora?" Kris says.

"Hi long time no see.” Aurora replies.

He had gotten so much better looking since the last time she saw him. All the feelings she had for him came back full force. You know they say you never get over your first love. But then she looked past him and saw Sid whom she loved a lot.

"What are you doing here?" Kris asks snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I am dating someone from the team.” Aurora says.

Sid skates over.

“I see you met my fiancée Aurora.” Sid says.

“You are engaged to Sid? Wow.” Kris says.

“Hey baby good luck.” Allison says to Kris standing next to Aurora.

“Thanks baby, Aurora I see you met my fiancée.” Kris says.

“Yup.” Aurora says.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the first-time you guys met?” Sid asks.

“Because it’s not. Kris and I are from the same area and we went to school together.” Aurora replies.

“Oh that is right you are from Montreal too.” Sid says.

Aurora nods her head yes.

"Well it is really good to see you again. It has been a long time." Kris says.

"Yes it has Six years." Aurora says.

"Well the game is about to start but maybe after we can catch up." Kris says.

"As long as Sid and Allison can come." Aurora says not wanting to be alone with him.

“I am okay with that.” Sid says.

“Me too. It will be fun having someone to hang out with as I am new to the city.” Allison replies.

"Well duh that would be a little awkward not having them there." Kris says.

"Okay I will see you both after the game." Aurora says.

“Yes we will see you both. “Allison replies.

Sid and Kris head to get ready for the game. Aurora and Allison head back to their seats.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris and Sid went back with the team. He couldn't believe Aurora was here. He hadn't thought about her in so long but seeing her in his face brought back so many strong feelings. He didn't know what to do about it since she was engaged to someone who was becoming one of his best friends and he was engaged to Allison, whom he loved with his heart.

"Earth to Kris come in." Sid says tapping Kris's helmet.

"Huh." Kris says snapping out of it.

"So you and Aurora went to school together?” Sid asks.

"Yeah we were friends." Kris says.

"I call bullshit. She was way more than a friend." Sid says.

"Okay, she was my high school sweetheart. I thought we were going to get married but she didn't want to follow me as I perused hockey she wanted to go to college. I couldn't hold her back so I let her go." Kris says.

"Wow so you two dated?" Sid asks.

“Yes but that was a long time ago Sid. She’s with you now and I am with Allison.” Kris says.

"Then why dinner?” Sid asks.

“To catch up man that is it. I promise.” Kris replies.

“Okay. It will be nice to have our girls get along and be friends since we are.” Sid says.

“See that is another reason why. Let them become friendly.” Kris says.

Sid and Kris go out to play the game. Even though Aurora was on his mind he somehow, he was able to focus on the game. They ended up beating the Flyers 6-1. Kris and Sid both had three goals. After the game ended they showered dressed and went to meet the girls for dinner.

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter!  This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut.  Forewarned is forearmed! 

----

Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports.  Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns.  There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.  

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout.  She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother.  It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet.  Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself. 

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked.  Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro.  As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t.  You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises.  You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead.  You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening.  Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.  

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance.  You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.  

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point.  You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note.  That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.  

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area.  As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber.  All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles.  There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.  

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way.  “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.”  You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.  

“Relax, sis, just relax.  You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?”  She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back.  “Breathe with me, okay?  Easy in, and out, nice and slow.  You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”  

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for.  “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.”  You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.”  She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother.  “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.”  She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her.  “How mature, which one of us is older again?”  

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right.  At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated.  Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.”  She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair.  The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.  

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.”  Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman.  Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring.  Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience.  Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair.  Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly.  They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.  

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm.  “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.”  Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear.  “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.”  You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass.  So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.”  He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.  

“Good, you remind me of my brother.  We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.”  You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.  

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song.  At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer.  You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage.  She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.  

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state.  She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.  

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by.  When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances.  It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap.  She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects.  Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.  

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek.  She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well.  Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.  

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by.  When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas.  You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm.  The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip.  Bryn taps, the bell rings.  You scream.  Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in.  You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.  

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron.  Oh god, not like this.  You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax.  When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them.  “Holy shit!”  That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair.  She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.  

“You were great out there, good fight.  You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.”  You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen.  She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing.  Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear.  The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is.  She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs.  You bet she does.  She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc.  Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.”  You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one.  She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.  

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.”  She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.  

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.”  Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for.  You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies.  “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.”  You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know.  Been fightin’ for a loooong time.  Kinda orcish culture.  I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily.  I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.”  She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena.  Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug.  Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.  

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks.  You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.”  She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.  

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it.  She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting.  With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her.  Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you.  The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back.  She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart.  So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress.  You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour.  “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.”  Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression.  Unsurprising!  That fight really was great.”  The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much.  You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you.  When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping.  She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace.  She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.  

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back.  You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder.  You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by.  The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair.  She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.  

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better.  Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm.  While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.  

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest.  Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by.  When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle.  She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again.  “You’re so dainty!”  She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers.  “Look!  I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours.  She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors.  You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them.  It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed.  The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.  

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom.  You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing.  She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties.  The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning.  “Don’t stop on my account kitten.”  Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.  

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor.  Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming.  She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger.  She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her.  Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed.  She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them.  Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.  

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks.  You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own.  They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.  

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties.  You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her.  “Fuck, Ushat!”  She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.  

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.”  When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck.  “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?”  She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand.  “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.”  One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy.  She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers.  “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.”  She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb.  You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again.  Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts.  Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy.  She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.  

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to.  She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy.  She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you.  The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied.  She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises.  “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.”  The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair.  “You like that thought huh kitten?  At least this needy pussy of yours does.”  She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.  

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation.  “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.”  You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers.  “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten.  Be a good girl and cum for me.”  

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge.  You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything.  All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy.  You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.  

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed.  You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist.  “Stay?  Please?  I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.”  She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten.  Gotta clean you up.”  She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth.  She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.  

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer.  You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping.  It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive.  “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.”  You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.  

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz.  “Whatcha doin’?”  Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.  

“Gettin’ some damage control done.  I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.”  She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center.  ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort.  Really?  So uncreative.  “I like you, a lot, I want to date you.  I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin.  Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight?  Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl.  Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”  

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed.  It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly.  “I don’t think you’re scary.  I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all.  You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’”  She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.  

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast.  Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date.  And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.”  Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder.  “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.”  She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh.  This might be the best morning ever.

[boeserbby]

Only Time Will Tell- Brock Boeser 1.3

about/request: I really wanted to explore a relationship where you are ‘the other woman’ this is the result of that. I’m not sure how long this will end up so…. sorry.

warnings: cursing, i think that's it??

authors note: Sorry I took such a long time bringing this out, I didn’t know if anyone actually liked this or not. Remember that a lot of details in this story are made up or changed. Make sure to check out parts one and two, I fixed some mistakes and made some corrections. 

timeline: march 2017

word count: 2614

    Hockey used to be a life for not just me, but my whole family. Three nights a week we would hop in my dad’s old work truck to cruise over to wherever Charlie, and in turn Brock, played. Often times we would meet up with the Boeser’s to grab the best seats right by the ice. Here my mom would yell to “Shoot the puck!” or boo at whatever call she felt didn't fit the crime. My dad would grab a couple of beers while talking to some guys he knew from his work. Small towns mean most people there he knew so he would rarely sit with us the whole game. Sometimes I would sit by my mom and Brock’s mom and sisters. Sometimes there would be kids from school or members from the team who were scratched I would sit by instead. Wren was often the one scratched. He never made it to practice on time and when he did he would spend more time talking to guys on the team then practicing. He was nice and seen grew to be one of the guys on the team I felt fully comfortable with. He understood what it was like to be the younger sibling and live in the shadow of our elders. His older brother Josh was team captain and lead them to 3 state titles in a row.

    After the game, all of us would go out to eat. The Boeser’s and the Y/L/N’s and whomever joined along from the team. Dad would tell Charlie what to do better, of course Dad knew what it was like to play hockey. He played for the University of Minnesota until a really bad accident his sophomore year took him out. Charlie, and me too (at least for a little bit), just wanted to impress him. Often times dad would rag on Charlie until they got into a mini fight. Charlie would hitch a ride back with Brock and his family. My dad would then spend the whole drive home complaining that Charlie was never going to be as good as him if Charlie didn't take his advice. 

    Although the bad seeped into the good. The hockey rink was were my family was one. We all would come together to scream when number 6 would skate out. Cause no matter how awful things were going at home, the rink was a time of escape. It was when hot chocolate would warm cold fingers in the late second period or the high of sugar rush from skittles in the second intermission. It was a time to giggle at the little kids they brought out between periods. They wouldn’t yet be comfortable on skates so they would slip and fall or miss the puck completely. I couldn’t remember what it was like when Charlie and I were that young playing, but I like thinking we were better than that.

    After he had died, I didn’t go to many games. There was no more hot chocolate or skittles high. No little kids falling or scoring on their own net. We never went out to eat after the games. There were no more arguments between dad and Charlie. The nearby rink which once held the best memories was purposely avoided at all times. Life went on, but each day seemed to hold some emotional punch of remembrance. Like one day, about 3 months after he died I came home from school and my mom had cleaned out his room. Neat piles of his clothes and pictures were placed in bins labeled “attic” or “giveaway.” His first skates, his autographed Detroit Red Wings Steve Yzerman jersey, and so much more was packed away to be set aside. His posters, CDs and other trinkets were thrown out or donated to a thrift store. I remember yelling at my mom that this is his room. She told me she needed to heal and that dad had been asking her to do it for two weeks. It was time to move on.

    Since moving I had gone to no hockey games. And the Vancouver Canucks were not a bad team. They had just been having a difficult time in recent years. That didn’t make city pride for them any less. Any game night and the always crowded downtown streets turned into an obstacle only the bravest could handle. I never purposely put myself in a position to make the drive down to the stadium in the past 2 years of living in Vancouver. Occasionally I was invited to games by friends and classmates. I managed to get out of it every time too, but somehow escaping this invite seemed impossible.

    It was Brock’s mother’s last night in the city before she had to fly back down to Minnesota to care for Brock’s younger siblings. I was extended an invite due to my ‘gracious’ hosting, my mother called me and told me how Laurie, Brock’s mother, raved how I grew into such a beautiful and caring young woman. So there I was crammed in Rogers Arena with 18,000 or so people. Laurie was on one side of me wearing a new Boeser jersey. I, even though I lived there awhile, owned no such fan gear and instead dressed in a thick sweatshirt. Natalie tried to get me to wear her old Trevor Linden jersey, but I high tailed it out of there before she could fish it out of her closet. 

    I loved hockey growing up, but standing here made me feel so out of place. Life had changed so much in the past two years. I was no longer the little tomboy with scraped knees and a messy ponytail. I longer wanted to play hockey. Now, I had put hockey out of my life so much that welcoming it back in right now felt traitorous to everything I had done to avoid coming here. Laurie was cheering and dancing. I guess there is nothing quite like the debut of your child in the NHL. Warm ups had just started so every guy was on the ice. It was easy to spot him in the white 6 with the dark blue background. I got chills the first time I saw it. Boeser was spelled out in big letters across his back. I imagined at that moment seeing Charlie out there. He would mess around and probably fall trying to impress some girls he would see on the front row. But he would be here, and he would be happy.

    “I’m gonna go grab a beer, want one?” I asked his mom. Canada drinking laws are sort of amazing. I remember getting carded at a bar when I first turned 19. There was a split second of panic before I remembered I didn’t really need to be 21 up here. 

    “No, hun, I’m going to facetime the girls so they can see Brock on the ice,” she said grabbing her phone.

    People were still pouring in from the front doors. Lines were long for everything even the escultors. I recognized some people from college and waved. They sported brand new jerseys and held in their arms peanuts and beers and popcorn. “We are gonna win!” They all said. People were invigorated with the call up of Brock. I was invigorated to get a beer in me that's for sure. Fifteen minutes and 16 bucks later I carried my two beers back to our spot. Laurie was finishing up her call to Jessica and Paul, Brock siblings along with Duke. I waved and said hi to everyone. 

    “Kid, you gotta come back more often,” Paul said. Paul was Brock’s oldest sibling and he always acted like he was so much older than the rest of us. Add on to the fact that I was the youngest in our family friend group, “Kid” has been my nickname well into my early teens. 

    “I will soon, I have just been super busy with college and all.”

    It had been mine excuse through out my time here. For the first 8 months my parents begged me to come home. At this point they didn't even call me anymore. I guess it's far cause I don't call them up much too. 

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay back home,” Laurie said. “Are you guys staying up to watch the game?”

“Only for a little bit, I work early in the morning.” Jessica said. West coast games ended way too late to stay up watching them in Minnesota. While it was only 7:00 our time it was 9 there so the game could last until 12 or 1 am. 

We all said our goodbyes as the lights dimmed. The Canucks opening video was being shown on the big screen while music blared in the arena. This was pump up time. As our guys skated out people cheered loudly. This game was supposed to be good. The Ducks always had a little rivalry with us. Add on to the fact that this was Boeser’s first home game and we were on a two-game losing streak. The team, and the fans, were hungry for a win.

    Unfortunately moral lasted until the ducks scored for the third time in the first period. Add on when Montour scored to make it 4-0 in the second, people began realising that not much has changed even with Brock. As the zamboni entered the ice for second intermission, Laurie turns to me. 

    “So, your mom told me your in college,” she started. God, she was fishing. Mom’s think they are clever trying to get information by stating the conversation at a wide base value and steer it to the cavity in the situation. 

“Yep, I go to the University of British Columbia for journalism,” I said sipping water I got after downing both beers in the first period. 

“That must be a lot of work, what do you do for work?” she asks.

“I actually write for Vancouver’s newspaper, they pay pretty good, and I do work study, so they pay for so much of my tuition that isn’t covered by my scholarships and then I get some of the money”

“What do you do for work study?” she asks.

“My English professor needs an assistant. I’m basically his gopher. If he needs a book from the library or a coffee I go get it. I transcribe his lectures for any kid who misses class. Sometimes I will tutor kids or help them find good sources for their papers. It’s not too bad, maybe three or four hours per day and I get like 6 credits towards my English major.”

“Gosh, that's a lot. He needs you to do all of that?”

 I shrug, “It sucks sometimes but the professor is nice so…”

“Your mom said that you haven’t come home since moving here.” They way she phrases the end of it is hard to respond to. It's not a question, more of a statement. She didn't sound mad or upset like my mom does when she says it. Laurie just sounds concerned. Her voice feels like a hug.

“It’s just soo much,” I start. “Charlie’s gone and mom and dad are splitting up. Mom met this new guy and he is so proper. Dad hasn’t even called me in two months because I said I’m not coming home for his huge labor day party. Plus I just got so much going on.”

“It’s okay to be hurt by what's going on, but don’t hide from it. Your parents love you a lot. They just don’t know how to love each other with so much hurt.”

“I don't know how to love them with so much hurt.” I mutter.

    Everyone is buzzing as the crowd makes its way out of the arena. We may have lost, but Brock put one in the beginning of the third to excite the crowd. Laurie and I hang back to give Brock time to get ready. The team could have lost 10-1 and she still would have been glowing with excitement for Brock. His life was changing, and he was no longer the little boy who fell over on the ice. Where most parents would have been freaking out, Laurie handled with grace, something she has done her entire life. No matter the situation Laurie put on her big girl pants and muddled through.

We meandered our way to the locker room, showing our passes to the security guard. In the hallway we waited as different guys from the team joined up with their wives or girlfriends. They all hugged Laurie telling her how wonderful her son is. Everyone loved Brock. Well almost everyone.

    Brock finally made his way out. His hair was still wet from what I was hoping was a shower and not sweat. He and Laurie hugged when he reached us. It was an awkward second or two while we figured out if we would hug or not. Wrapping my arms around him felt weird, almost as weird as the time we kissed. Yet there was a nostalgia in it too; we went always so awkward. In fact I remember a time in my life where I never thought we would ever be strangers. I remember once when I was about 12 and Brock was about 13, I had a dream that Brock and I were dating. The next day I remember being shy and awkward especially when he called me “Kid”. I went all pink and Charlie would not let it go for a whole year. Finally, when Brock asked a different girl to the joint 7th-8th grade dance Charlie let it go. I spent the whole night crying and accepted Thomas Miller’s invite. He had braces and dark hair and spent all night trying to kiss me. After the second slow dance song I joined up with my friends instead. The next day I heard a rumor going around that he said not only had we kissed, but that I let him touch my boobs. Charlie had been mad and cornered me about it. When I admitted it false, he said he taught Thomas a lesson. The next week someone “anonymously” shared a picture of Thomas at a birthday party sucking on his thumb with a stuffed animal. From there rumors spread he wet the bed every night.

    We always had each others backs. It made we wonder how things ended up so differently. We all walked out together. As I reached into my pocket to order an Uber, Laurie offered to have them drive me back to my apartment.

    “It’s too late for a young woman like you to hop in some random mans car.” she insisted.

    “”I couldn’t bother you guys,” I said.

    “No bother,” Brock said. “Might be nice to see more of the city anyway.”

    Thirty minutes later I lay in bed without make up and in an old, ripped up shirt from Natalie’s older brother that he left here. Natalie was already deep asleep when I got home with one of the Harry Potter movies on full volume. With school for both of us the next day, it was important to get as much sleep as possible. But as I laid there all I could think about was Brock’s hair and his cologne. I wished things could have ended better for us all those years ago. Maybe there’s time for change now. A girl could hope.

    As I finally started to drift asleep my phone’s ping jolts me awake.

Brock Boeser has texted you.

Thanks for coming tonight. I hope to see you soon.

    God, it’s going to be a long night.

[sunriseskog]

comethru- Auston Matthews

Request: n/a this was entirely self induglent bc im sad and ive had comethru by Jermey Zucker stuck in my head for weeks

Word Count: 2,267

Warnings: cursing, angst, dudes being assholes, mentions of tr*ding auston

A/N: ive been on hiatus for a long ass time so any feedback is more than welcome!!!! also i am fully aware that i used this gift for my last post but its hot and i dont care

It had been a little over a month since Auston left. No… that’s not quite right. It had been a little over a month since Auston left Toronto. It had been just barely under a month since you had left Auston.

You weren’t entirely sure who the trade surprised more, but you did know for a fact that it had had a far greater effect on you than it had on Auston.

He had remained optimistic in the beginning. After all, Buffalo is barely a 2-hour drive on a bad day. On a good day, he could probably make it in an hour and a half. But the two of you had quickly reached the conclusion that either of you driving 4+ hours a day wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t fair to whoever drew the short end of the stick, pun intended. You knew he would never ask you to move for him, hell even moving in together had been a stretch for you, but you also knew that there was an unspoken expectation that eventually the both of you would relocate closer to the arena.

Before he had even reached the border, you had managed to convince yourself that this short distance relationship would cripple your relationship before you could even begin filling out the US immigration forms to move with him, let alone actually convince yourself to do it. So you backed off. You knew that trying to exhaust what was left of the relationship would only end up destroying you the both of you more than was necessary, so you let go. You knew it wouldn’t take him long to pick up on the fact that you were becoming distant, taking longer to respond to texts, barely calling him back and conveniently timing your responses with the specific intention of him not being able to pick up. You may have been stupid, but you sure as hell weren’t subtle. You knew that as long you were the bad guy in the scenario, it wouldn’t take him nearly as long to get over you, and as long as you remained in control of the situation, you knew that you’d come out of the tail end of things perfectly fine.

And you were. You were absolutely, positively fine. But that was all you were. You weren’t good or great or doing well, you were just… fine. You were off-kilter, sure, but you were surviving, and that was honestly all you had come to ask of yourself. You were sure that the other shoe would drop soon enough, you had ridden the high and now you were at the plateau, but the comedown seemed to always be lurking around the corner.

One too many sleepless nights in a row had come to significantly impact your sleeping schedule. It had gotten to the point where your boss had come to expect your work day to end at 5 am instead of 5 pm. It was nice, though. To see the city when it felt like no one else could. To have your whole day to yourself, even though it was technically night. Everything was much quieter, and there were moments where it felt like you might be the only person in the entire city to be awake, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You rarely interacted with anyone, you didn’t even wake up until hours after the last of your coworkers had left the building, and every errand you had to run could be completed via the self-checkout of the 24 hr supermarket a few blocks away from your apartment building. You weren’t lonely by any means, you just so happened to be alone.

Except on game nights. You were never alone on game nights. Luckily, there weren’t very many Toronto residents that enjoyed watching one of their franchise players play in a different teams jersey, but you still couldn’t help but punish yourself by watching his games whenever they were on at the sports bar you frequented. You told yourself that as long as someone else put the game on, and as long as you left with someone new before the game was over, then it wasn’t nearly as pathetic as it seemed.

An issue arose the first time Toronto played the Sabres. You hadn’t checked the schedule, you just knew that there was a game. You also knew that if you were ever alone when a game was on you would curl up with far too much ice cream and a borderline dangerous amount of rum, neither of which were ideal. Immediately upon entering the bar, you knew that it was far too crowded for there to not be a Leafs game on, it was nowhere near baseball season, and the sea of blue jerseys couldn’t be for any other team. An involuntary wince consumed your face as Auston’s name reached your ears, it seemed like every congregation of fans in the entire establishment were talking about him, and a cursory glance at the nearest screen confirmed your fears.

The bad news was that if you stayed, you would have to watch Auston play, which was bound to be painful for any Leafs fan, but this one would hurt you just a little more than all the others— the knowledge that he was just across the city weighed heavily on your shoulders as you pushed through the crowd to find an empty stool somewhere. The worse news was that there was no way in hell a single guy in here would be willing to leave before the game was over, so you’d either have to watch all of it and then fuck the feelings away, or go home and watch all of it and probably end up crying for a majority of the third period. The former seemed like a more viable option at the time.

Now, though? You wished you had just gone home. Because it turns out you were wrong, there was a dude at the bar who was willing to leave before the end, as it would turn out, he was ready to leave before the second period was halfway through. That should have been your first red flag.

In your defense, you had a lot of other shit going on, and your brain was far too preoccupied coping with the stress that the game was bringing to consider the fact that the nice guy who had been paying for your drinks might not turn out to be that nice after all.

On the cab ride back to your apartment, you found out that his name was Sam and he was a lifelong Leafs fan. The two of you bonded over having grown up around hockey without actually playing it, and you even shared a cigarette at the entrance of your building’s lobby. It wasn’t until the two of you stepped into your living room that things took a turn for the worse.

The framed and signed Matthews jersey on the mantle had been more of a joke than anything else, all of your friends thought it was funny while the two of you were together, and you hadn’t had anyone over since the breakup, so you hadn’t found a reason to convince yourself to take it down. The look of disgust on Sam’s face as soon as he laid eyes on it would have been a fairly convincing reason if you actually gave a shit what he thought about you.

“That’s borderline sacrilege,” he commented, gesturing towards the display. You shot him an incredulous look, waiting for him to give any indication that he was making a joke.

“What?” You questioned, not really confused, just wanting to clarify if he was saying. What you thought he was saying.

“You can’t seriously call yourself a leafs fan and still support that guy! He’s a traitor,” He asserted. His over passionate gesturing indicated that he was genuinely this invested in the topic, which should have been your second red flag.

“I mean c’mon, (Y/N),” He continued. “You’re not stupid, are you?”

You couldn’t help but scoff at how pretentious and condescending he was being, without seeming to realize that he was acting like an absolute prick.

“I can assure you, Samuel,” You drawled sarcastically. “I am anything but stupid, but you have got to be absolutely moronic if you genuinely believe that I’m going to let you fuck me after speaking to me like I'm a goddamn child. Your kinks are your business but that's not really my style,” you sneered as you moved towards the doorway in order to invite him to throw himself out so you didn’t have to bother touching him any more than you already had.

“Now why don’t you get the fuck out of my house, dick head,” You spoke as your lip curled and your brow quirked, gesturing through the doorway to drive the point through his thick skull.

“Gladly,” He scoffed, slamming his shoulder into yours as he stepped past you. “Not like I’d want to fuck a whore like you anyways!” He shouted over his should as he started towards the stairs.

“Open your mouth that wide again and I’m gonna have to ask you to chortle my cock, Samuel” You responded, giving a middle finger to his back for your own satisfaction. You had never been one to censor your insults, and over the years they had become more and more lewd. This, of course, had never really presented itself as a problem until you caught the eye of your neighbor as you turned to storm back inside of your apartment. You couldn’t help but wince apologetically at the old woman, giving her a repentant head nod as you shuffled back inside.

You let your back hit the inside of the door, sliding roughly down until your tailbone hit the hardwood floor beneath your feet. Of course, the first substantial interaction you had in over a month would turn out to be a spectacular disaster. And of course, it was because of Auston. Realistically, you knew it wasn’t his fault, you just really really needed someone else to blame right now. You carded your fingers through your scalp roughly, and let out an elongated groan in the hopes that it would satisfy the overwhelming urge that you had had to scream at the top of your lungs for the past month or so.

As you stared at your own intertwined fingers in an attempt to calm yourself down, you couldn’t help but notice that your fingers were shaking. This wasn’t a recent development by any means, but this was the first time that you had noticed it being this aggressive. It usually only happened when you had coffee, which was why you had abstained from it for a majority of your life. As you looked back on what your routine had become, you realized that through all the late nights and later mornings, you had been popping caffeine pills and ordering espressos far more than the ‘one-time thing’ you told yourself it was. The realization that your life had done a complete 180 in the span of 5 weeks began to weigh on you, and it seemed like your mind was consumed entirely by flurries of memories of bad habits you had fallen back into and the lifeless moments you had spent floundering, convincing yourself that you were fine on your own, despite the fact that that was anything but the truth.

It didn’t take very long to find his contact picture in your recent messages. You hadn’t had much of a reason to talk to that many people lately. It took longer to open up the message thread, trying to prepare yourself to view the unbearably awkward finality of your most recent messages to each other. The preview underneath his name only served as a painful reminder that the last time he had texted you was to say that he loved you. And you hadn’t said it back.

You weren’t sure if he was going to respond, hell you went sure he was even going to read it. For all you knew it was entirely within the realm of possibility that he had blocked you a while ago. You knew exactly what to say, surprisingly, that wasn’t the hard part. Of the few letters that you typed, the closer you got to reaching out to him again seemed to calm you down more and more. By the time you tacked on the question mark at the end, your fingers had stopped trembling for there first time in what you could assume had been at least a couple of weeks. You let your phone drop to the floor as soon as you hit send, either he would be here within the hour or his response wouldn’t be worth reading. Those were the only options on the table. Either he was going to come and the two of you were going to get to be okay for a little while, or it truly was the end. If that was the case then you really didn’t want to see what he had to say. You heard your phone vibrate from where it laid just a couple feet away, and as much as the desire consumed you, you couldn’t bring yourself to move to see what it said. So you sat there, and waited to see if you would be able to hear those oh so familiar footsteps ascending your staircase again, responding to your oh so familiar request.

‘come thru?’

[writing-realityawayfromreality]

It’s always been you, not him/ her

Requested : Yes

It’s kind of long and got off track at the end, but i hope you enjoy, it took a few days to write.

You weren’t the jealous type usually but you’ve been having a slightly harder time dealing with Ivan and other girls. One he’s extremely sweet and highly attractive and two he was a really talented hockey player who happens to plays for the Philadelphia flyers.

Ivan’s family is here in Philadelphia for the holidays seeing as that the guys had a game on the 23rd and Ivan didn’t really feel like traveling home when he knew the airport was going to be packed, and he also didn’t want to leave you alone on christmas, you thought it was going to just be the two of you and maybe a few of the other guys who aren’t traveling or can’t travel home. You thought wrong. You were a bit excited and nervous at the same time seeing as though you haven’t meet his parents even though you have been dating for a little over a year now. Also you found out that  apparently Ivan had a girlfriend back home before leaving to which he told her that he doesn’t really think he could do the whole long distance thing since it was his rookie year, he would be living in a new country and he didn’t want to have to worry about what’s going on back home with his girlfriend.

So here you were out and about with not only Ivan’s family but also his ex girlfriend who apparently had stayed really close with Ivan’s family even after the breakup. You weren’t one to judge, you knew his ex Natalia  was really liked by his parents, to which it annoyed you because this was the first time that you were meeting his family and all the could focus on was Natalia and Ivan. Ivan however was over the moon with the fact his parents and brother are going to get to see him play tonight.

Ivan was honestly just excited that his family was here with him and couldn’t careless what we did as long as we were all together. You thought that it would be fun to go ice skating. You decided to head over to dilworth park for some afternoon skating since it wasn’t that far away from the arena or your apartment. You and Ivan have been here thousands of times. This was your go to spot for date night after your dinner. Needless to say you were a pretty good skater and well everyone knows how well Ivan is, the question is how well does his family and Natalia skate.

Once you arrived you paid to skate and rentals while Ivan sat with his family waiting for you to get back with their wristbands and skates. As you waited for the skates you looked over at Ivan who had this huge smile on his face, he looked at you and you swear the smile grew bigger. You smiled in return, that was until Natalia distracted him by grabbing his arm and making him look at something that was happening on the ice.Both of them were sitting there laughing at whatever just happened. You were still slightly annoyed but glad ivan was spending time with people he loved and was comfortable with. He struggles being so far away from home and sometimes feels like he can’t turn to anyone on his team for help with that type of issue, but luckily a few guys like ghost offered a welcoming hand.

You were just waiting for ivan to finish lacing up his brother’s skates. You couldn’t believe how similar they looked to one another, genetics you thought smiling. Natalia was first on the ice followed by ivan’s brother, mother, and father and lastly Ivan and you. Ivan tapped his brother saying that he bets he could beat his brother in a race. Of course their mom yells at the both of them to be care will his father just laughs.

This left you with Natalia and his parents. skating slowly next to them Ivan’s mom was the first to speak. “So have you always lived in the city?” she questioned. Shocked that she was speaking to you you slightly choked on your saliva causing you to cough before answering. “No, I lived about an hour or so away but I applied to Temple for college and whelp, here I am.” you responded. “Oh, what are you going for?” his father asked. “Pre med. I’m hoping to be able to get into their med school right after graduation.” you said smiling hoping to impress them.

“Ah, Natalia here is already in her second year at one of the top med school back in Russia.” his mother said. You glanced at Natalia who had a smirk on her face that said it all. “Yeah, if you ever need help...” “Thanks” was all you said. Once again it was awkward silence before Ivan returned with his brother.  “Y/n... It’s our song, come skate with me.” Ivan said before pulling you towards the center of the ice.

“You okay?” Ivan asked. “Yeah, i just...” “Listen I know my parents can be harsh and distant. But they know I am happy with you and that makes them happy. They will grow to love you like i do, okay?” you nodded and continued to skate with Ivan until Natalia came crashing into Ivan who just happened to catch her. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.” “It’s okay Nat. What do you say we head back to the benches and get ready to head out?” Ivan said.

You took off ahead of everyone because you have had more than you could handle with Natalia. You looked back to see that Ivan had his hands around Natalia’s waist partly because she claimed she was scared she was going to fall after the incident. She had her hands firmly on Ivans. All of them came off the ice laughing like it wasn’t an issue Natalia was totally flirting with Ivan. Once everyone got their skates off you told Ivan that you weren’t feeling well and was just going to head back to the apartment and see if a nap would help you feel better.

You talked Ivan into finishing showing his company around Philly even though you wouldn’t be with. He didn’t really want to leave you behind but you promised him you would go to his game tonight to spend time with his family. His parents were sad to hear you weren’t feeling well and was going to miss out on all the fun of sight seeing. You finally reached your apartment to just lay down on the sofa and go on instagram. You just so happened to be looking at the pictures of you and Ivan that you were tagged in. You smiled as you came across the first picture you two were ever tagged in. After a few minutes you finally went back up to the top seeing that there was a new picture. It was Ivan and Natalia at Del Frescos having a late dinner with his family.

“I can’t thank this family for allowing me to tag along on this journey to Philadelphia to see my best friend. Much love for you Ivan. #the gangs back together.”

Barf..

After what felt like hours Ivan texted you telling you that he is now at the rink with his family. You told him that you were on your way so that way you could show them around and get to your seats before it became crowded. You found them out side of the locker room looking lost seeing as Ivan was nowhere in sight. You smiled and told them to follow you as you showed them around the arena. You asked them how lunch was. They told you that it was amazing but wished you were there to had enjoyed it with them.

After getting some chicky and pete fries you headed to your seats. Ivan skated up to the glass and waved at you guys. You smiled and laughed as Travis skated up behind him shoving him into the glass itself. Natalia looked horrified that his own team mate would hit him. you told his family each one of the teammates names and how good of friends their son and they were.

The game was amazing but it wasn’t over yet, it was a tough game to begin with considering who they were playing. They went into over time and there was only a few seconds left before shoot out. Ivan had the puck and was skating pretty fast down the side. He cut towards the middle shooting on net. The fans cheered as the puck had slipped past the goalie and somehow managed to make its way to the back of the net.  

Ivan scored the game winning goal. You don’t think anyone has ever cheered as loud as his family did. After Ivan scored he skated over to were you were sitting slamming himself against the glass has his teammates filled the ice coming to celebrate with him. He looked at you blowing a kiss. You smiled to yourself before speaking to his family. You told them that you could bring them down to see their son. The almost jumped out straight out of their seats. You were too busy talking to his parents about how well Ivan has been playing the past few games you didn’t notice he was standing right in front of you causing you to run into him.

You let Ivan’s parents be the first to hug and kiss him. They were talking in their native tongue. Making you smile because he kept looking between you and his parents. Natalia was next to hug him. She was saying things to him that you couldn’t understand but could tell that his mood had changed. Before Natalia pulled away she had given him a kiss. You quickly looked away acting as though you didn’t see it. Ivan walked up to you trying to hug you. You didn’t want to cause a scene so you gave him a half hearted hug.

Natalia had headed back to the hotel room after seeing Ivan. His family decided to head back over to your place to have a little celebratory dessert. the car ride home was a little awkward, Ivan could tell something was wrong. Once in the apartment you told them that you were tired and just going to head to bed. Ivan excused himself and followed you into the bedroom.

“Y/n what’s wrong? And don’t say nothing because ever since they’ve gotten here you have seemed annoyed. My parents are here to get to know you and you’ve just been kinda... i don’t know, off?” Ivan said walking towards you. “Nothing Ivan, I’m just tired and have a big day planned for tomorrow. Why don’t you see if Natalia wants some dessert...” You responded walking over towards your side of the bed.

“Natalia means nothing to me. She’s always been the clingy type and she couldn’t handle me breaking up with her.” Ivan said now standing in front of you grabbing your arms. “That’s not what it seems like Ivan, the ice skating and the post and then there was that kiss.”

“It’s always been you, not Natalia. Look..” Ivan said pulling you into the living room where his parents were. “from the moment I met you i’ve been crazy about you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. My parents know everything there is to know about you. Natalia tagged along hoping that I would change my mind and take her back. But I love you, no one else, I told her to go home after she kissed me because it reminded me how lucky I am to have you. I wanted my parents to be here while I did this, I know you weren’t really close with your own and I wanted to wait until they got here on christmas eve but...”

Ivan got down on one knee pulling the box out of his suit pocket. “Y/n, i know that we’ve only been together a year but I don’t want to be with anyone else in my life. I love you so much, heck even my parents love you like their own daughter. What I am trying to say is... Will you marry me?”

You looked at Ivan’s parent who were smiling with tears in their eyes. You looked at his little brother who was jumping with happiness. You knew your answer. Looking down at Ivan, you nodded “Yes ivan” your head smiling. Ivan stood up placing the ring on your finger. He kissed you to which you pulled away quickly seeing as though his parents were in the room

“Y/n. we were sorry if we seemed like we favored Natalia more, we just didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Ivan couldn’t stop talking about you and how happy you make him. We are so glad that you are part of the family. And we are glad this is how we are meeting you for the first time. You make our boy so happy, we couldn’t be happier as parents.” His mother said embracing you in a hug.

Ivan walked towards you wrapping his arms around your waist.“I told you, It’s always been you.” Ivan whispered in your ear.

[the-real-ann-onymous]

Look up.

Who am I?

I am you…

I am the thoughts inside your head.

The thoughts you choose to hear.

The thoughts you choose to ignore.

I am the everyday thoughts that go through your head. Except, I have been realized into actual words and have been typed out for you to read.

Today’s thoughts came from a date I had earlier.

A date with a man, a young millennial.

The date started off with a great plan. Dinner and a hockey game. What could be better in a city known for its hockey history and passionate fans?

The excitement set in as we started to enter into the heart of downtown. People walking around the streets, hustling to get to the arena wearing their team colours with pride.

We got into the sports arena and took our seats. We were twenty minutes early, as planned. Our seats were spectacular. A little off to the left from centre , but still close enough to hear the players shit talk each other on the ice.

I look around and my heart melts at the sight of all the people, eager to cheer on and support their team. The colours blue white and red flood the scene in front of me. I see kids holding on to their parents hand’s and pulling them in every possible direction. I feel so happy to be in this moment. Absorbing every image around me. Soaking up the adrenaline in the air. I am living in the moment. I am breathing in everything, the smell of hot dogs, nachos, spilled beer. I am listening to all the sounds around me, the cheers, the laughs.

As I get settled into my seat, ready and eager to begin the night… I turn over, and my date is staring down at his phone. I see him quickly go through his apps, like it’s an extension of his being. I see him open his instagram and start scrolling through his friend’s photos, double tapping every so often, depending on the photo being shown. I then see him receive a DM, and he starts chatting with his friend about some work dilemma. He closes that app and opens his Snapchat. Skimming through the numerous videos uploaded. BING! He then receives a text message from “The Boys”group chat. I see him start writing to them about being at the game, hoping his team will win. BING! A new message appears from his SnapChat app. He is just in some kind of “Rainmaker” mode. Minutes are already going by, and he has yet to lift his head and look up and take in the moment and everything else going on around him. More importantly, does he find his phone more interesting than me, his date?? I let it slide for a while… figuring once the game starts to unfold, his attention will become undivided.

The Home Team hits the ice, skating around and warming up. Taking shots on their goalie, getting ready to get into the zone and hopefully capture a win for their team. Then the Away Team hits the ice, skating around, remaining low key, knowing they are on enemy territory. I look over, my date is still typing away. Multi-Tasking, or rather, the 2019 version, “Multi-texting” between about 3 or 4 messages.

I am starting to feel annoyed. I look around, and I start seeing some images my brain conveniently left out before. People on their phones. Hundreds of people on their phones. Taking selfies. Taking pictures with their significant others. Taking pictures of centre ice. The point of these pictures? Well to upload onto their social media for everyone to see, of course.

Why is no one looking at what is realistically happening in front of them? Why is everyone seeing the world around them through their phone?

The lights dim, and the entrance music begins. I feel the bass and the beats of the music in my bones. Goosebumps take over my body. My eyes swell up with tears and I start to feel emotional as I look around and see 20,000 people who have come from far and wide to be here.

I look closer… in this subtle darkness, there are little flashes of light. The flashes of light look like little fireflies scattered around the whole arena. These apparent fireflies are cellphones. People on their phones all around, just snapping away. Catching the moment unrolling in front of them, through their phones.

My thoughts start racing. What is it with this generation and their cell phones and social media? What is the fascination? I feel my blood start to boil. I know we have all had these thoughts before.

I can think back at least 20-25 years ago. To my youth. A time with no cell phones. No Facebook. No Instagram or Snapchat. Where instead of meeting our friends in online chat rooms, we met them in our backyards, or on the streets of our neighbourhood.

Growing up, we never had to worry about saying something stupid, or doing something stupid and having that moment publicized and shared immortally over the internet.

When we had big moments in our life…we picked up the phone and called our friends and family. We would hear the excitement in their voices when the words “I’m Engaged!” Or “ I’m Pregnant!” were said.

Now it’s a Status Update, or a new hashtag under a filtered image.

Nowadays, if you haven’t immortalized the moment online… it’s like it never happened.

We all know the saying “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?” - well the millennium version of that would be: “If you are having an EPIC moment in your life, and you don’t post it online for all to see, did it really happen?”

Our posts and our social media accounts are not constructed for us. They are really meant for everyone else. To show them what is going on in our life. Or, more like, show WHAT WE WANT others to see our lives as. Which beach we are sipping Pina Coladas on. Which chic restaurant we are eating at. Which trendy club we are posting bathroom selfies in. This is all a mask… a facade. It hides the real us.

No one ever posts the low moments in life. The heart-breaking-breakup you just went through. The second mortgage you had to take on your home in order to get yourself out of a vicious cycle of debt. The crumby and thankless job you have been stuck in for the last couple of years.

These are the REAL and RAW moments of our lives. These are the significant moments that shape us and build our strength and true characters.

We suffer from major FOMO every time we open up our social media and see the people around us “Living their Best Life”.

Is this why there are more depression cases in this day and age? People of all ages comparing their life to what they see online? Thinking that the images they are viewing on their social media, is the norm?

The time to change is here and now. It is time to start living in the moment and being present in our own lives.

I for one am tired of viewing life through a screen. The world is beautiful and intriguing. Every moment we are living is our own. if we don’t take a second to enjoy what is happening right in front of us, we’ll miss everything. It’s time to lower the technological masks from our faces, rub our eyes, and take a good look at the blessed life we are living, because, without notice, that life can be taken away from us…and what will you have to show for it then? A few hundred “Likes” on a photo and an insignificant speck on the worldwide web.

Today is your day. Live it through your own eyes and emotions, rather than the screen in front of you.

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 43 - NJD - Exorcise and Celly

It was a rainy night in Buffalo and dread was in the air among the spires of downtown Buffalo. The Sabres were a fright since Christmas and could hardly tame cats. The absolute fright seemed to reach its peak when the Devils incarnate came to town: often the torturers of Key Bank Center crowds they had not lost in Buffalo since April fool’s Day 2014. No, not tonight, for tonight was a different night: tonight would be the night a silver sabre was stabbed into the heart of the beast. Tonight… or last night now… would be an exorcism. Enough of the theatrics: there was a kid in the row behind me who was no older than 8 who repeatedly hollered obscure stats from NHL 19. We’ll be calling him Chel kid for this blog post. Chel kid was a few seats down from Loudmouth. Loudmouth only kind of knew he was at a hockey game yelling about drama of his family and friends to the two rather fetching women at either side of him. Chel kid and Loudmouth had a rollercoaster game. This is all to say I was at this game. I’ve been at both wins since Christmas so… maybe buy me tickets if you really like this team? There might be some rich trust fund baby in Amherst who might take me up on that. Nonetheless, demons were sorta exorcised in this game. In the second period it was a regular Tae-Bo session! Yes, that was a play on words pun and Tae-Bo was basically Zumba before Zumba was popularized, kids. Is this going to be six paragraphs of this guy making exorcism and exercise jokes? The answer is yes; today we celebrate because it’s been a rough go of it for the Sabres these last few games. We’re going to Exorcise and Celly today! Exorcise and Celly with Chel Kid and Loudmouth because the Sabres have perhaps their most compelling win since November in this tilt with the Devils of Newark.

The first period really only exists in this game to remind us of what this club has not been doing well. Passes, zone entries and secondary scoring did not come in the first. That said, it wasn’t a horror show either. It started out sour. Blake Coleman redirects a puck clumsily around Carter Hutton he had received from Miles Wood. Two thoughts on this goal: Miles Wood looks way to handsome to live in Newark, like no offense Newark but that City is what New Yorkers mean when they talk trash about New Jersey; and second: that goal should’ve been stopped by Hutton screened or not. If anyone was screening him it was Sabotka who was not even in his line of sight as the puck crosses the ice to Coleman. The first period ended 1-0 Devils but not before guys like Tage Thompson and Sam Reinhart really begin to lay it on. Do note that the Sabres outshot the Devils for the entirety of this game in spite of the visitors getting many more opportunities there. Loudmouth was really raising the decibel level as the first goes on, not for the Sabres but apparently because one of the women he was with told a very meandering story about how her sister was throwing a fit about having to work on her birthday. All the power to ya girl but do you find Loudmouth shattering ear drums for ten seats around in every direction attractive? Jeff Skinner got some hot opportunities in the first and Chel Kid made sure to let his surrounding compatriots know that Skinner’s shooting rating has been updated because of his hot start. Good to know, Chel kid.

Chel Kid was overjoyed when 1:39 into the second period Jeff Skinner came in on the right circle and sliced one home over Keith Kincaid’s far shoulder to draw the Sabres even. Tage Thompson, banging on the door all night got the only assist on that play.  I get an added kick out of Skinner’s 29th goal this season out of the hope that he’s warming up for Friday night’s trip to his old stomping ground in Carolina. I have that kind of midrange buzzing hatred for the Canes and I hope Skinner does pirouette goals around them. I had hardly stopped freaking out about Skinner potentially getting his 30th goal while I was there when C.J. Smith collects an arching pass from Johan Larsson in the offensive zone all by his Sabre lonesome. He proceeded to lean around the Devils defenseman and get his shot off from the low circle. The puck lands behind Kincaid and trickles in. It hardly looked like a goal. Smith cellyed on his own while it was deliberated. The refs reviewed it and the arena buzzed with cheer as the replays played on the video board. It was made official: C.J. Smith’s first NHL goal and one that feels like the start of something great considering his last 16 months with Rochester: glorious! What comes next over the six to ten minutes to follow is a moderate counterattack by the Devils who were actually 3-2 in their last 5 games coming into this one. Hutton stoned them on the few shots they got. Loudmouth actually started getting into the product on the ice at this point; it may be in part because Chel Kid had a lot to say about the Rochester Americans following Smith’s goal. My word, if NHL 19 is an adequate teacher of Hockey then this kid is probably smarter about Hockey then me, not that I’m any genius.

Casey Mittelstadt has been rough lately. He’s almost a guaranteed commodity. In time he will be a bankable second line center. Unfortunately he’s so not that right now that talk of trading for a 2C to fill that role for a time is afoot. Mittelstadt got the puck at the blue line and went along the left boards before cutting in and shooting the puck right on Kincaid. He then collects his own rebound and puts it around him on the second attempt at 10:42 of the second. That’s a nice little weight off his shoulders and his first goal in ten games. The Devils got twice as many powerplay opportunities as the Sabres in this game but the Buffalo PK was hot and the Devils just weren’t on their PPs. The Devils were on the powerplay with Buffalo up 3-1 when Vladimir Sabotka got the puck to Evan Rodrigues who broke out of the D-Zone with Jake McCabe. The two went in two-on-one against Will Butcher and did the old last second pass and McCabe got the puck past Kincaid who was still looking at E-Rod: shorthanded goal and 4-1 Sabres! This second period had everything from tape-to-tape passes to good zone entries on the Sabres part. It was maybe the most complete period they’ve played since November. But it wasn’t done yet! They were set up in the O-Zone when Conor Sheary got the puck back to our young Lawrence Pilut at the blue line. Pilut just rips that one at a foot per second and the puck goes in a straight line past his own guys, a couple Devils defenders and Keith Kincaid: 5-1 Sabres. Loudmouth must have seen this play from the start because he immediately lost his mind. Chel kid gave me a good laugh when he yelled: How many goals will they score!?

They would score no more and neither would the Devils. The visitors would shoot as many shots as the Sabres in the third period and even get a couple scraps going. None would pass and this game ended 5-1 and hit me like a cool, spring breeze. Buffalo needed this and as Loudmouth said: I’ve never seen a Sabres game with this many goals! Not only that Loudmouth but if you count assists 14 different Sabres got points in this game and all but one from Skinner came from non-top line guys. That by itself is worth celebrating. I don’t just joke about exorcism because it’s the Devils: that lack of secondary scoring has been a real blight for this team. Moreover, the Devils are an Eastern Conference team which means in the second half of this season they get Playoff Trash talk with New Look Sabres: New Jersey, if you make the playoffs at this point it will be something of a miracle. Your mix of young guns and geriatric players makes you and enigma to figure out but goaltending is not stable in Newark and the Sabres would make quick work outscoring a Devils team that in spite of its talent has no true firepower. Taylor Hall went from a five alarm fire in Edmonton to an already burnt down sporting goods store in New Jersey and isn’t saving this team in a seven-game series: not last season, not this season. Beating the Devils in the first round would be our punishment to them for making the 2010s a nightmare at home. Sabres win in 5.

Speaking of the Playoffs: the only good news on that front last night was that the Islanders lost and are now two points back of Buffalo in the first spot out. Montreal, Boston and even Carolina won so all the other spots remain the same although Buffalo moves up to the first wildcard spot. They have to beat Carolina on Friday because every team around them in the standings plays one or two games between now and then. Their buffer is gone but yes, there is much hockey to be played. Like, comment and share this blog. I look forward to a day both Loudmouth and Chel Kid read New Look Sabres although I’m not helping myself with a younger demographic making a friggin Tae-Bo reference. Do also note however that I didn’t call this game just exorcism; yes they played the right way in this game but I am not convinced yet that they’re exorcising some of those consistent mistakes. See you Friday in what will surely be a feelsy game. Keep pace, Sabres!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. Scott Wilson getting waived right now may seem stranger than how precise Jack Eichel’s game day regimen is but the 411 on that is that when he clears he’s going down to Rochester for a reclamation stint if you will having been out since Training Camp.

[patrice-bergerons]

I would do anything to read more of your Brad & Patrice travails as ghostly godparents-slash-inept matchmakers oh mannnnnn

I have been playing in this AU as my happy place for the last few days so I’m more than happy to share & sorry I did not have access to my computer to more than like 10 min these past couple of days to format a good reply. thank you for giving me the opportunity to gush! It’s essentially a bergy/marchy version of looking for eric, which by the way is the best soccer movie ever made if you need to be lifted up.

The rookie, Kevin has been called up to the first team because they are ravaged by injury but he feels so out of his depth, has no idea how to fix it, and at this point is wondering whether the whole hockey thing was a mistake as a whole. Also this is like in 50-60 years time and NHL has gotten better about accommodating gay players but dating within the team is still a big no-no which is a problem for Kevin because he has a massive crush on a teammate.

There are rumors that the old td garden is haunted, the whole area is flooded and boarded up anyway but it’s also still hallowed hockey/basketball ground because of its history.

Kevin decides to go over there one day to see if he can find answers or inspiration or anything because he is at the end of his rope and is very desperate.

Instead of answers tho he finds bergy and marchy when marchy gleefully runs at and thru him - his favorite pastime whenever a human visits the building alongside using them for puck shooting practice - except unlike all other humans kevin can see them and he faints on the spot because a ghost literally just ran thru his torso.

see, kevin grew up reading up on the bruins history and he knows who these two are. potentially that is why he ends up opening up to them about his woes once he comes to and gets over the shock- well that and sheer desperation - all the while thinking YOU ARE TALKING TO TWO GHOSTS/POTENTIAL HALLUCINATIONS ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL OUT OF PLACE WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN??? but, they give pretty solid advice actually.

their genius plan to help kevin open up to his crush - hardworking solid first team player, quiet and kinda shy off the ice, very protective of all his teammates on it - is for kevin to lure him to the garden so they can give him a proper scare and kevin can be the hero of the day both by being super braveTM and fighting back.

it does not go according to plan

kevin likes them though and comes back. meanwhile bergy and marchy realize that they can use him as an anchor to move around the city - everything has changed so much that when they venture out on their own it gets too overwhelming (esp for marchy who has been dead for a few decades) and they feel like they might disappear. not if they zoom to where kevin is tho.

benefits for kevin include free extra 2:1 training sessions and a constant support network of bruins legends to tell him he’s got this. downsides include ghosts who have now realized how boring it was to hang out in an abandoned arena compared to being around humans and life, ghosts who love playing with state of the art and very new kitchen appliances, ghosts (but really just marchy) who have no sense of boundaries even when it comes to the bathroom and ghosts who want kevin to invite his crush over - whom they insist on calling quaider even tho that is not his name - and come up with a new get together plan every week.

this is a kind of sad au for bergy and marchy themselves - they like never got together when they were alive and marchy died all too soon - so i could even work some of that angst in as to why they want the two of them to get together so much heheheh. but essentially yeah, many mishaps and adventures once they have met. it could even be like a updates ever other week with a new adventure kinda thing with an overarching plot. but that means i need to write it LOL