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supernovafics · 10 months

Note

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness.

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch.

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan.

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock.

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be.

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him.

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.”

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words.

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other.

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance.

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.”

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.”

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.”

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?”

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?”

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs.

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be.

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday.

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door.

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care.

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.”

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve.

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth.

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve.

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies.

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.”

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door.

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.”

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful.

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that.

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible.

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you.

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again.

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different.

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year.

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning.

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him.

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.”

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.”

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.”

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously.

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.”

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?”

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.”

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided.

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.”

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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oconswrld · 9 months

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The first meeting - Kimi Raikkönen x Rookie!Reader

summary: Maybe the sunshine can melt ice.

warnings: age gap,fluff, out of character probs,friends to lovers

(set in 2023, kimi and seb didnt retire in this fic, Y/n is in aston martin w Lance)

Part 1

It's Y/n's first year as a Formula one driver.It feels weird but comforting to be able to say she's apart of the big dogs. To be honest her first race week she was afraid of the others not liking her. Seeing how she is the only eastern european on the grid, her fears were caused by her accent and different way of acting.

Media day was something that was new to her. Well not necessarily but knowing more eyes were gonna be on her it was uncomfortable. Her thoughts ended early as she arrived to the room w the classic couch and screen walls. The screen reading 'Bahrain'. She was guided to the white couch sitting on the left side edge. Her PR officer handing her the pink water bottle, the white glitters she applied to it when she was 16 sparkling in the lighting.

The door opened again, familiar faces of legendary drivers appeared. Kimi and Sebastian came into the room, Seb stopping every two steps to talk to someone and say 'Hi'. After a long 3 minutes of talking coming from the blonde german, they finally reached their respective places.

Kimi sitting beside the young woman,glancing at each other earning smiles from both of them, making a silent agreement to stay close but silent. Her flustered, red face burning up as she tried to conceal it by drinking from her bottle. Is what she would've done if the cap wasn't stuck.

Kimi watched her struggling to open the bottle only to snicker and asking her a simple yet comforting question.

"Want help?" His monotone voice now weirdly quiet and kind. Her hand reaching out the bottle torwards the older man, basking in the fact he spoke to her.

His hand softly handing it back to her. A small 'thank you' left her rose tinted lips. Quickly forgetting about the thirst in her throat, she placed the bottle down on the floor turning to Kimi. Reaching her hand out for a handshake . Their hands meeting as in a form of understanding. The fin's hand was soft to touch, leaving her melting at his touch. But she wasn't the only one. He was screaming in his head, like a teenage boy having a crush.

Maybe this was when it all started.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen imagine

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hrryshoney · 8 months

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no. 1 party anthem

A/N: lowkey projecting bc im a photographer/videographer❤️ this is set during like self-titled. if u could tell. named this after the AM song bc i think it fits (the bridge of this song is so them coded) this is unnecessarily long (6.1k words) but anyway Enjoy

warnings: smut 18+. um fingering, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation a bit? (male), degradation, praise, use of a camera during sex, Sir kink, exhibitionism (kinda), sex on a couch, light choking/slapping (blink and miss it!), probs more kinda filthy etc..

Today was shit. Complete and utter shit. Your alarm didn’t go off, you spilled coffee all over yourself, had to go home to change, and you were going to be late to your first clients appointment. It’s only 8:30, and you could already tell it was going to be a bad day.

Your first client was booked at 7:45. You only had four appointments today. Normally, you’d be a bit more booked out. But, your last clients would take up more time than usual. An up-and-coming band you heard, that were quite popular already. Their management had informed them about your local studio, and an appointment was made.

Upon walking into your studio promptly at 8:00, you saw that your best friend was stalling for you. She had your first client engulfed in mindless conversation. God love her, Lexi knew how to keep a crowd entertained. Really, showing up 15 minutes late wasn’t a good look. You were glad she was here to null some of the damage.

As you walked up to them, you caught the tail end of her gossiping, no doubt. You placed your hand on Lexi’s shoulder, startling her out of conversation. “Oh! Let me get out of your way. I was just telling Christian how my last shift at the diner was absolute madness. As always, though. He’s all checked in. Have fun, hope the shoot goes well!” You shot her an appreciative smile, then an apologetic one to Christian.

Stepping out of the lobby and leading him to the studio, you were face to face with him. “I am so, so sorry I kept you waiting. This morning was one from hell, for sure.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry. Shit happens.” He smiled back at you, following you into the room.

You were grateful for his understanding, hoping it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. You prided yourself on being punctual and professional. Thankfully, the studio was already set up for his shoot

You took the lens cap off your camera and began to set up your tripod for some head shots. Flipping the camera switch to ON, you then turned to Christian.

“Let’s get started.”

…

Your next 2 appointments went on without a hitch. They were both fairly basic shoots, nothing too heavy. Your 2nd client was even a regular. She was so lovely. Today she came in to get maternity photos with her husband. Considering how long she’s been coming to your studio, you were ecstatic for her.

You were still a bit out of it and tired though, the effects of your morning not completely worn off yet. You had an hour and 45 minutes before your last clients for the day came in. The band that you’ve been anticipating.

It was 11:34 now, so you were taking this as an opportunity for your lunch break. You decided to go to the sandwich shop that was about a block down from your studio. Walking out of the darkroom in your facility, (some guests preferred genuine photographic film) you spotted Lexi. Still behind the front desk, but now on a stool, slouched and looking at her phone. Mindlessly scrolling, she was kicking her feet back and forth as they dangled from her place in her seat.

“Hungry?” You came up beside her, tapping her thigh twice. Lexi was pulled out of whatever she was watching on her phone, looking up at you. “Mhm, starving. Lunch?”

“On me,” You confirmed, “thought we could get it in before our last clients. They’re gonna take a while, but I’m looking forward to it.” You said honestly, looking out the studio’s glass windows to the street. “Have we ever shot a band?” You use the term ‘we’ loosely. When you and your best friend both got a start, you always knew that you were going to be more hands-on. She didn’t necessarily share the passion for photography, but when she had no shifts picked up for her service job at the local diner, she would pay you a visit. She stuck beside you, and you’re thankful for it.

Lexi does most of the behind the scenes work for you when she’s there, and it would honestly be 10x harder without her. “Don’t think so. I would have remembered that. Every guy in a band is, like, insanely hot.” She hopped off her stool, beat white converse hitting the ground.

“Good to know where your priorities are. Hopefully they’re cooperative.” You wondered aloud, you knew they were young. That normally meant they would be rowdy, too. Four guys around your age was bad news in general, even worse that they’re musicians. “Hopefully they’re hot.” Lexi corrects, too caught up in picking at her nail beds to see your expression.

She had you laughing out loud. Wide eyes and an even wider grin on your face. “Right, extra incentive.” You picked up your keys to the front door that were lying on one of the shelves under the front desk. Checking your watch and walking to the door, you flipped the sign to CLOSED so you and Lex could grab a bite in peace.

…

You and Lexi wasted more time than you thought. You were out for at least an hour, having went shopping after eating. You both decided you could use a new outfit. Not for anything particular, but just to treat yourselves. Then, you traveled back to the studio.

30 minutes until your next client, you still had time to kill. You went to read the email from their management, again. You saw they specifically wanted a couch in their shoot. You should probably set up their studio now. You knew you had an old, black leather couch in the back somewhere. Finding it would be the hard part.

It wouldn’t be in any of your front studios, so you decided to check the last one first. Studio 13, it was more of a storage room now. When you first leased this place, you were pretty sure it used to be a one-level warehouse. You’re never booked to the point where you’re using all the studios, and you don’t have enough staffing anyway. Still, it cleans up nicely.

You end up shouting for Lex’s help dragging the big couch to your front studio. You had already set up a white tarp for your backdrop, knowing it was a pretty minimalistic shoot. As you lug the couch along the concrete floor, the feet of it scraping against it to make a rather brash noise, you began to think the soft, calming music that you queued to combat it wasn’t working very well.

You finally push the last bit of the couch into the studio, dragging it in front of the white tarp. Lexi raised her hand for a high five, which you gladly reciprocate. You look at her with a grin. “Not bad, huh? Little studio we got going.” You both laugh, staring at the quite bleak set.

“Best in town,” Lex returns dryly, she steps out and looks to the front windows. “Those your clients?” Before you even look, you answer. Albeit sarcastically, “And I’m supposed to know, how? I’ve never met these people before.” But the words died in your throat the moment you looked. They had to be your next clients. You didn’t think anyone could fit the bill for ‘band members’ more perfectly.

So, there they were. Smoking and loitering outside the studio. And Lexi was right, because she always had to be. They were hot. No sooner than you think it, the words are coming out her mouth. “Christ, they’re handsome.” All of them wearing some short of black getup, with tight jeans and t-shirts. One boy, with longer, blonde hair, had his sunglasses on with a snapback. She laughs through her sentence in disbelief, a hand coming to her mouth. You can’t help but follow suit.

“Right, well. Even if they are, he best not ash his cig in my flower pots.” You squinted your eyes, the cigarette resting between the boys middle and index figure. Trailing your gaze to his face, he had dark curly hair. A pale complexion with deep brown eyes, cheeks sunken in as he took a drag of his cigarette. The face that, after you finished staring, you saw was looking right at you with a half-smirk. You smiled back and looked to Lex, taking a step back into the front studio. “He saw me.”

“You weren’t exactly being subtle, but oh well. That’s the one you want?” She raises her eyebrows in a tease, a wide grin splitting across her lips. Your face and body heat, eyes widening. “Can you not? I need to be professional. This is the real deal, you know? They’ve got management and everything.” You didn’t wanna blow your shot, you knew this was the foot in the door to bigger things. Cute band members were not taking this one from you.

Your hands came subconsciously to brush at your outfit, looking down at yourself to see if you looked presentable. You could practically hear your best friend’s thoughts, and the smirk on her face. You ignored her.

The bell on your door rang with entrance, and you turned to see one of the guys walking in. He had shorter dirty blonde hair, and you could see one of the others stomping on his cigarette before following behind.

Putting on your customer service smile, you took a few steps back to make room for the 4 men in the lobby. You scooted closer to Lexi, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Four sets of eyes were now looking back at you. Two brunettes, one who had closer to black hair. Two blondes, one whose was longer and lighter.

“Nice to meet you,” You sighed out, their intimidating gazes piercing. “So, um, welcome to our studio.” You introduced the both of you, giving your name and Lexi’s. Gesturing between the two of you with a wave of your hand.

They went down the line doing the same. Ross, Matty, Adam, and George. In that order, introductions exchanged in their thick accents through giggles. The boy you had taken interest in you now knew as Matty, and he was only drawing you in more.

“Well, we can get started on your session early since… you’re here.” You looked to the group, waiting for some sort of approval. You got a couple head nods, and a smirk from Matty.

“That eager to get us in, babe?” He chuckled, knocking his shoulder into his friend’s playfully. You felt embarrassment flood through you, but you led them to the studio with your head up.

“Sure. So, Studio 13. I’ll get a lot of ‘full band’ shots, but your manager said he wanted some solo shots of the each of you, too. Think it’ll be easier to get the group ones now, though.” You told them, wringing your hands slightly.

There was a small murmur of agreement, and you turned around to get your camera ready. Checking your lens, SD card, battery. “Whatever you think, you’re the pro.” Your head shot up, seeing Ross smile reassuringly at you. You returned the gesture and got back to work.

As you walked around the room to flick your lights on, you saw Matty shooting his friend a look. You didn’t think too much of it, but your eyes couldn’t stop finding his face. You were gonna have fun photographing him solo. “Okay, everyone! Get together, pose, do whatever you want. I’ll take a bunch of shots.”

After a few pictures, you stopped. Lowering your camera. “Maybe.. We should get you in the middle.” You pointed at Matty, him freezing in his place at the end of the line. “I mean, you’re just…” You trailed off, hoping he’d get the point.

George spoke up, saving you from having to complete your sentence. “She’s saying you’re the shortest, mate. Get in the middle.” He snickered, hand raising to his mouth to hide his smile.

Matty’s smile dropped, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever,” he muttered, moving to his new spot. “Better?” He tried to hold back his laugh, but was failing over the sound of his friends chuckles in the background.

Once you got them started, you could see they really were naturals. You assumed their close bond caused them to work so well and naturally together. Joking around, but still getting good shots.

However, this perception faded when you had to go in for the solos. Of course, above anything, they were boys. And they were also making your job a living hell. No matter who you were photographing, the other three were trying to get a laugh. Anything to make their friend break.

Your last straw was when you tried to get a photo of Adam, and Matty all but fell into his lap. You laughed along, (because truly, it really was just a little bit funny), but forced yourself back into work mode.

“Okay, this isn’t working. How about for the solo shots the rest of you stand out in the hallway? And we get a little rotation.” You suggested, trying to make yourself sound as light hearted as possible. Though a wave of whines passed over the group, they ultimately agreed in the end.

Working with them one-on-one was really nice. The two guys you shot so far, Adam and George, were very intelligent and funny. Unnaturally respectful for men your age, and you really couldn’t complain.

You finished both of them up, their mini shoots taking about 15 minutes each. You went back in the hallway you collect another one of them.

Adam and George now stood to the side, leaving Matty and Ross to linger right outside the door. You opened the door, looking at both of them and keeping your palm on the door handle. “Who’s next?”

Ross’ eyes went to Matty’s, about to step backwards and let him go. Then, Matty’s arm shot out to land on Ross’ shoulder. It seemed he tried to give his friend a shove forward, but the most he got out of Ross was a stumble. “Ross will go next. Save the best for last and all that, right?”

You giggled at Matty’s antics, while the rest of his friends let out sighs and eye rolls. Ross mumbled something under his breath, a sarcastic ‘right, sure..’ was the most you caught. You then lead him into the studio, closing the door on your way.

Ross’ session took about 5 minutes more than the others. He was incessantly flirting, making it hard to do your job. And while there was no denying that he was very cute, you knew they were all harmless comments.

You were finding out quickly that the boys were good company. And the shots were all turning out more than great. They were all so naturally photogenic, and the camera loved them. You doubted you’d have to do much editing.

…

You walked out with Ross, on your way to finally bring Matty in. You two lightly chatted on your way out, Matty’s eyes landing on you the second the door opened. He looked at Ross and tilted his head, to which the taller boy only looked down at him and grinned.

You broke the awkward silence, clapping your hands together. “Right, well. Matty, last but not least and all that.” You step back and put your hands up, gesturing for him to step in before you.

Once you finally got him away from the rest of the band and you closed the door, his whole demeanor shifted. Matty turned around instantly to look at you, and you looked down to the floor. You could see his smile through your periphery.

“Okay, so. For the rest of the guys I got a few of them standing and a few of them sitting on the couch…” You trail off, looking around the room. At this point, you’re just desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. Maybe saving him for last wasn’t the brightest idea.

“Okay,” Matty nods his head, eyes following yours and looking around the studio. “Should I.. get on the couch?” He says offhandedly, a hand coming to hide the smirk that’s blooming on his face.

You feel your face get hot, but you agree anyway. “Um, yeah. That’ll work.” You walk over to the studio light, dragging it in place from where you moved it when with Ross.

After getting the area set up, you turn back to Matty. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for direction. “You can just pose however you want. I’ll just take a bunch of shots and there’s bound to be some keepers.” You smile and turn your camera on, fiddling with the settings.

“Have to tell me if I’m doing good, then. Don’t know what I’m doing when I pose, to be honest.” He laughs, moving in his seat a bit. You scoff, still too preoccupied with your camera to realize you did it out loud. “What?” he asks intrigued, still smiling.

“Don’t think you could really look bad. I mean, you’re photogenic and good looking to begin with, so.” You press your lips together, the words flowing out of your mouth too freely. You turn around and walk to a cart that’s in the corner of the room, pretending to grab something from it.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Think I look good?” His smile grows unbelievably wider, not being able to hold back his teasing remarks. You roll your eyes, obviously not meaning the blatant compliment to come out. You come closer to him and he kicks his knee out so it brushes your thigh.

Trying to brush it off, you shrug your shoulders. “You caught me,” You said with the faintest smirk on your face. Taking photos of him flows naturally. He’s just too.. perfect. And though you don’t throw that word around, he really is. You already love the few shots you have of him.

You get down on your knees to take the next picture from a better angle, leaning back on your calves as you do. Matty’s eyes widen and immediately find yours. It doesn’t register in your head what he’s thinking, until you see him shift in his seat.

He doesn’t do it subtly, and you know he wants you to look. You’re no better, so easily giving into temptation. Your eyes drag to his hips, watching the way he lifts himself off the couch momentarily.

“Alright, babe?” He calls, drawing your attention back up to his face. Though, your gaze lingers on his mouth. He winks at you.

“Should I be asking you that instead?” You hide behind the camera, snapping more pictures. You remembered the promise you made to Lexi and yourself. Be professional.

He chuckled, bringing his hands to run them along his thighs. “Only if you’re gonna help me out.” His eyes search yours for an answer, and you can only guess that you look as desperate as you feel. You nod.

His hands run higher, rubbing over the tent in his jeans. “Gonna need your words, then.” He smirks, and you feel so out of control. But it feels nice.

“Yes, please. I’ll help you.” You get up from your spot on the floor, ready to move towards him. Matty’s hand presses on himself harder, and he groans.

“Ah,” He tsks, stopping you in your tracks. “Don’t get to touch me yet, we’re not done our photo shoot.” He smiles, which then gets interrupted with a moan. The only thing you’re focusing on is how he works himself with his hand.

“Please, Matty. Need you.” You’re already begging him, but you don’t dare move from your spot. Because you want to be good for him. You feel the pit in your stomach, and then the pool of arousal in your panties.

“C’mon, take a picture of me baby. Isn’t that your job?” Matty throws his head back, palming himself through his jeans even more. You feel your knees weaken, the camera suddenly heavier in your hand.

You bring the camera up to your face, looking through the view finder. Matty looks sinful. You clench your thighs together and his hips lift off the couch even more, a whimper falling past his lips. You take the photo.

“Knew you’d be so fucking eager. Could see ya eye fucking me since we got here.” Matty starts to unzip his pants, allowing his cock to be less constrained by the pressure. You don’t even think when your finger hits the button.

“Like you weren’t doing the same?” You shoot back, voice coming out breathier than intended. He lifted his hips up, pulling his jeans down past his thighs. He was left in his black Calvin Klein boxers. The imprint of his hard cock very much visible.

He strokes himself over his boxers, mouth parting slightly. “Watch that mouth, thought you were a good girl.” He groans out through gritted teeth. “Come here.”

You obey, of course. Walking straight to him, though your mouth gets the best of you. “Maybe you thought wrong.” You say with an innocent smile, the toes of your shoes hitting his. He grabs your wrist, bringing it to his dick. He moves your hand up and down, letting you feel all of him.

“Wanna be a brat for me, baby? Come on, take me out. I’ve got another use for that mouth.” You reach for his waistband, your camera still in your other hand. He notices the compromising position and takes it from you. You expect him to put it to the side, but he keeps it in his hand. “Get back on your knees.”

You lower yourself down, pulling Matty out fully. He’s pretty. His cock is long and thick, the tip slightly red with precum beading out from touching himself. “So big, Sir.” You look up at him through your lashes, pumping him twice. He whines out.

“Sir, huh?” He smirks, throat gravelly. You work your hands around his length more. Then, you hear it. The camera shutter. You look up, his eyes looking through the viewfinder.

“Can I suck you off?” You bat your eyelashes, waiting for permission. Matty’s hands falter, bringing the camera down slightly. He hums.

“Mhm, take your top off, sweetheart. Leave your bra and leggings.” You pull your hands off him, swiping your shirt over your head. You were wearing a blue bra with lace trim, and it pushed your tits together nicely. Thank you, Lord.

Matty started to pump his cock when your hand left, now working himself faster. “Open your mouth.” You submitted to him, quickly sticking your tongue out. You subconsciously pushed your breasts together with your elbows.

Matty slapped his dick on your tongue, loving the way your moans vibrated around him. He teased you, taking himself away to take another picture. “Please, please Sir.” You rock yourself on your heel, the desperation growing.

“Little slut,” He giggles, pressing his cock into your mouth. Groaning out when you close your lips around him. You could only take a little more than half of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip.

Your hands came up to work the rest of what didn’t fit. “Made for this, to take my cock.” You whined around him at that. Hollowing your cheeks and pulling off a bit. You say something around him that he can’t make out, and he bucks into your mouth.

Matty’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head, hand tangling in your hair. “Like that? Wanna be my fucktoy?” You nod around him, bringing one of your hands to rub yourself over your leggings. Matty guides your head down on him until you gag, letting you pull off and take a breath.

Tears welling in your eyes, you swallow your saliva and look back up at him. “I’m okay, please keep going. I like it.” You respond to the concerned look in his eyes, and he nods. Before you take him in your mouth again, you spit back on his cock.

“Fucking hell, shit.” Matty moans, throwing his head back on the frame of the couch. He pushes your head down again, making you take his whole cock in your mouth. You don’t gag this time, and he starts to move his hips.

He’s fucking your mouth, and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You felt your knees starting to bruise, and you rubbed your cunt faster. The only thing separating you being two layers of fabric.

He pulled you off of him, then. Looking at you touching yourself. “Getting off on making me feel good? S’pathetic, baby.” He teased you, and you heard the camera go off yet again. “C’mon, up here. Gonna make you feel good.”

What a gentleman, you think. Not coming before you. The thought makes you giggle, but it’s interrupted by your own shriek when he pulls you onto the couch. He places you on his thigh, grinding you down against him. Your whines are constant and he’s not letting up. “Please, Matty. I want you.” You whimper.

Matty pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. You state shamelessly, taking in all of his tattoos. They make him even more attractive, and you know you’re only feeding his ego with your wide eyes and parted lips.

He flips your position, and now Matty’s on his knees before you. He pulls your leggings off briskly. Then, you’re only left in a bra and panties. He presses over the wet spot on your panties, and you jolt. He hooks his finger in them, and pulls them to the side.

His fingers run through your wetness, and you’re practically glistening under the studio lights. He slips his middle finger inside of you, but it’s gone as soon as it came. You squirm, needing to feel any kind of friction. He pulls you closer to him by your thighs, spreading your legs wide.

He’s just staring for a few minutes, until you feel him blow a gust of cold air onto your exposed cunt. You scream out, hips bucking off the couch. Matty lightly slaps your inner thigh. “Sh, don’t want our friends to know what a whore you are, right? Giving it up so easy for a guy you just met.” You hear the smirk in his words, his accent becoming thicker and breathing more rapid.

Without warning, he licks a bold stripe up the center of your pussy. You put your hand in front of your mouth, muffling the moans. Matty sees this, however, and has a different idea. He says something without lifting up from you, the feeling of his mouth making your eyes roll back. Finally, he pulls off of you. “Camera.”

You whine, “Huh?” The camera is suddenly being placed in your hand, the weight making you shake more. “Only fair you get some pictures of me. Had your photoshoot, now it’s my turn.” And with that, his mouth is back on you.

Matty licks your clit, pursing his lips and sucking. Your legs start to shake, and he brings his hand around to insert his middle finger in your hole. Your whole body goes weak, the light grip you have on the camera not helping.

Matty continues eating you, and he’s messy with it. You feel your slick on your inner thighs. His tongue goes inside of you, slowly moving in circles. He pulls off again, watching you clench around nothing before shoving his face between your thighs.

Your moans are nonsensical, bucking your hips off the couch and squirming uncontrollably. Matty spits on your cunt, moving his hand to pinch at your clit. “Fuck! Oh my God, Matty. Don’t tease.”

“God or Me, which one?” He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your clit. “You haven’t taken any photos, Miss ‘pro’.” He brings up Ross’ words from earlier, the realization causing you to smile. The smile is wiped away, though, when he runs his two fingers through your slit and puts them inside of you.

Your mind clears, and you finally take a photo. You don’t even bother to check the shot anymore, just clicking the button mindlessly. Matty grins and curls his fingers inside you. His tongue laying flat against your clit.

He sucks on you again, scissoring his fingers slowly. “Mm, please, Sir. Gonna cum, please.” You beg, hoping he won’t take it away from you. That he’ll just allow you to let go. You take another picture, the top of his hair and bottom of your abdomen most likely the only things visual.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me and I’ll give you what you really want. Fill you up with this cock.” He stutters in his words, and you realize his other hand went down to lightly stroke himself. More precum that he’s been using to lubricate himself.

You cum with a shout, that’s muffled by his lips on yours. Matty swallows your moans, sticking his tongue in your mouth instead. You can barely taste yourself on his tongue, and you ride his fingers through your orgasm. “Matty, Matty. Shit, thank you.” You pant, chest heaving.

“Good girl.” He pats the top of your head condescendingly, snickering. He stands back up to his full height. “Don’t thank me yet, ‘M just getting started with you.” His hand comes behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to your lap. “Lift your hips up, love.”

You do as he says, letting him pull your panties off. He throws both scraps of fabric somewhere on the grand. His hand immediately going towards your tits. He grabs a handful, and starts kissing down your neck.

“Sir, need you now. Can’t wait anymore.” Matty’s lips attach to your collarbone. He bites you, sucking on the spot. He licks over the red mark, moving to another spot on your neck to do the same.

“You’ll fuckin’ wait if I make you. Do anything to please me, right?” You nod, head rolling to rest on your shoulder. You finally feel satisfied when Matty takes his cock, resting it just above your pussy.

He lines himself up, but never goes where you need him. He keeps bumping your clit, every time making your body twitch. He holds your hip in place, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. The only coherent thing coming out of your mouth is please, mixes of Matty and Sir.

He puts his tip inside of you, feeling you clench and then quickly pulling out. You whine, trying to move down the couch and put him back in. “Beg for me if you want it so bad, baby.” Matty is hard, and you know he must be aching as bad as you are. His cock and angry red, you know he needs to give in soon.

“Please! Please, I need it. Need you so bad.” You’re not above begging, obviously. And Matty loved it. He groaned, your wet cunt coming in contact with his dick again.

“Need what? Gotta use your words like a big, or I won’t know.” He rubbed his cock down your slit, pressing on top of your clit. He moved his hips forward slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You threw your head back, “You! Your cock, Matty. Need it inside me.” You tried to close your legs, clenching around nothing and needing friction. Matty gripped your inner thighs, prying them apart and pressing them to either end of the couch.

He lined himself up with your dripping hole again, slipping inside of you slightly. “Gonna give it to you, ruin you.” With that, Matty thrusted inside of you. He started slow, half his cock inside of you. He was stretching you out so good, letting you adjust. “More,” You grit out, teeth clenching in your head.

“Was gonna give it to you gently.” He pressed more of himself inside of you, watching you shake your head. His hand came up to grip your jaw, making you look at him. “You don’t want it slow, right? Just wanna be fucked dumb.” Matty pushed the rest of his cock inside of you. Finally, you were taking him in full.

“Yes! Yes, Sir.” You feel so whole, so full. It makes you want to scream, and you bring your knuckle to your mouth and bite down. You see Matty reaching behind your head for something, and see him with the camera in hand.

He pulls halfway out of you, and the camera shutters yet again. “Look at the way you grip me, christ. Just milking my cock. He starts pounding into you again, hips slapping against yours.

Matty has a steady rhythm, it feels so fucking good for you. You keep clenching around him, and you’re close again from your other orgasm. “Faster, sir. Please.” You jut your lips out. “Wanna cum.” Matty laughs.

“Thought you wanted to be my toy, huh? Sit so pretty for me and take it? That’s dirty, you know, babe. Toys don’t get to cum.” He pouts at you in faux sympathy, eyes casting down towards you. The leather couch was making you sweat now, his gaze piercing through you.

“Please, Sir. Need it so bad, I’ll be so good. I’ll be quiet.” You whined, hips coming off the couch before Matty’s strong hand pushes you back down. Letting your head fall back, a gasp escapes your mouth again when his hand attaches to your clit.

“You’re greedy. Already came once and begging like a slut for it again.” He presses down on your clit, thrusting into you harder. He does go faster, speeding up his rhythm. Your stomach turns and you know you won’t be able to hold it.

Matty’s hand comes to rest lightly on your throat, pressing his thumb into one of the hickeys. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

You do, with a shout so loud Matty doesn’t even bother covering it. He’s too focused on reaching his own release. He speeds up even more, riding you through your orgasm and making you overstimulated. “Fuck, fuck. Good girl. Where can I cum, baby?”

“My mouth.” You say with no hesitation, and he pulls out of you cunt. Matty moves up slightly, and pumps his cock above you. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and the visual makes him cum. He throws his head back with a loud moan, letting his cock hit your bottom lip.

You swallow, holding his eye contact. He curses under his breath, picking the camera back up and taking a picture of you like that. Then, one with his thumb pulling on your bottom lip before he wipes the corner of your mouth with it.

You giggle. “You taste good.” You watch him step off the couch, searching for your clothes. He finds your underwear and bra, bringing it back over to you. When he realizes there’s nothing to clean you up with, he leans down and licks your cunt.

You shriek out. “Could say the same about how you taste.” He winks at you, handing you your clothes so you can get dressed. He goes to find his own and do the same. You hide your face in your hands.

“No way you’re shy, you just had my dick inside of you.” He rolls his eyes, throwing his shirt back on. Tone full of amusement and disbelief.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be vulgar.” You joke, strapping back into your leggings. The anxiety about Lexi and his band mates is hitting you now, but there’s no going back. “Thank you.”

He looks over, a wide grin on his face. Matty grabs your shoulders. “No, thank you. Best photoshoot of my career.” He walks over to the door, and you take long strides to catch up with him.

You smooth a hand over your hair and straighten out your clothes. It’s no use though, because when you open up the door and walk into the hall with Matty, they all know.

Lexi and the guys all stood there, knowing smiles on their faces. George even starts laughing when you both walk out. Adam’s head hung with his shoulders shaking, and Ross a smirk on his face.

“Think Matty got the all inclusive session, then?” George says, causing the rest of the group to burst out in laughter. You shrink in on yourself, looking over to see Matty’s grin. Lexi shoots you a look. A timid smile, but her eyes say ‘we’ll talk later.’

Matty giggles, humming. “Mhmm, don’t be jealous.” He shrugs looking between Lexi and you. “Contact us again for another shoot, then? We love your work, and would love to come back.” His eyes go to your face for the last bit, and you nod.

They all say their goodbyes, exchanging handshakes and stares. When they walk out, Matty catches your eye again through the window. Waving, and pulling out a cigarette.

…

Later, when you’re cleaning up the studio, you find a folded piece of paper under the front desk. A 10 digit phone number, a small heart and the words Matty scrawled under it.

#divider cred: @cafekitsune #photographer!reader #tea’s writing✍🏻

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httpiastri · 3 months

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

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MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

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wannabehockeygf · 3 months

Text

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!

#auston matthews #am34 #toronto maple leafs #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #auston matthews fic

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