#toronto maple leafs fanfic

[spine-buster]

Lost in the Memory | Ryan O'Reilly | Volume II

gif credit @/leafsgm

A/N: I'm so happy with the reception this has gotten despite the mystery surrounding their relationship! Please continue to ask any and all canon questions you have on these two! I hope this chapter clears up some questions, too.

“You’ll have to fly back to Toronto without us.  If it’s a broken finger, they’ll know and they’ll fix it tomorrow so you’re good to go down the road for us.  Do you have someone that would be able to look after you post-surgery?”

“It’s finger surgery, Whit.  I’m not getting a quadruple bypass.”

“But it’s still surgery, Snook,” Whitney lamented.  “I don’t like to see you hurt.  Anywhere.  As big as your foot or as little as your finger.”

Ryan could hear the tone of Whitney’s voice, how worried she was, even though it was minor surgery.  While she always supported him throughout his hockey career, even when he was a kid, she was always nervous about injuries.  She saw Gareth have broken arms, knee injuries, and even a collarbone fracture during his own playing time.  “Hey…c’mere,” he cooed, extending his arms and bringing her in for a hug.  “It’s just a thirty-minute surgery.  I’m not even being put under – it’s local anesthesia.  No need to worry about me, sweetness.”

He watched as Whitney considered his words.  One part of him knew she’d never stop worrying about him, and another part knew it would calm her, at least slightly.  “Imagine being put under completely just for a little finger,” she half-joked.

He smiled.  “My fingers aren’t little though.  You remind me of that all the time.”

She smacked him on his forearm.  “Snook!”

“Ow!” he faked how hurt he was.  “Don’t injure me more, Whit!”

“You pervert!”

His smile was wide, the gap in his teeth making her swoon.  “So you’ll pick me up?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll drop you off and pick you up,” she confirmed.  “But I want payment though.  Payment through ice cream or something.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Ryan smirked.  “After surgery, how about we go out to Goderich for a few days?”

Whitney’s eyebrows rose.  “You’re allowed?”

Ryan nodded.  “The boys are getting back in town midnight Wednesday.  Next practice isn’t until Friday, before Saturday’s game.”

“Three nights alone with you in Goderich?  You’re spoiling me, Ry.”

He leaned down to kiss her, his arms wrapping around her body and her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.  “You know how much I love to spoil you,” he mumbled against her lips.  “So that’s a yes?”

As if Whitney would say no to going to Ryan’s cottage on Lake Huron.  She wasn’t doing anything better.

***

The drive out to Goderich, on the shores of Lake Huron, was like most other drives Whitney and Ryan took: it had Timbits, it had good music, and it had…hands.  Because of his local anesthesia, Ryan was in the passenger side this time, while Whitney was driving his rental – a Range Rover, because of course.  Ryan controlled the playlist, playing some of their favourite songs but also indulging Whitney in some of the new Taylor Swift songs.  It reminded him of when he surprised her by learning “Jump Then Fall” from Taylor’s Fearless album that came out when Whitney was thirteen.  Then, when Speak Now came out when she was fifteen, he learned “Sparks Fly”, her favourite song off the album.  Whitney told him he would have to learn a new song of Taylor’s every time she released a new album; Ryan obliged: “All Too Well” from Red, “Style” from 1989, “New Year’s Day” on Reputation, “Cornelia Street” on Lover, “August” on folklore (the whole album, really – she forced him), and “ivy” on evermore (the whole album again, really).  She’d have to request that he learn “Sweet Nothing” off Midnights. 

The air was much more crisp in Goderich, especially in March.  When she parked the car in the driveway and stepped out, Whitney could feel it.  She inhaled deeply.  It felt like summers.  It felt like home.  Even though home was Toronto now, and had been for almost ten years.  City air and country air were just different.

“Good to be home, hmm?” Ryan asked, seemingly reading her mind.

She nodded.  “Good to be home.”

They brought their bags in and Ryan disabled the alarm.  Whitney set them down in the laundry room, intent on bringing them into the bedroom later – it wasn’t like she and Ryan would be in many clothes anyway.  He turned on a few lights before grabbing the controller and pressing the button to have the automated blinds rise.  The house consisted of a main room overlooking the lake, with a glass hallway and three bedrooms, each designed like their own little pods, also overlooking the lake.  The master bedroom, at the end of the hall, had floor-to-ceiling windows and a beautiful balcony that looked over everything. 

They both watched as the blinds rolled all the way up and exposed the view.  The part of the lake in front of the house was still frozen over.  The sky was a bright blue, the sunshine illuminating the snow.  On a corner shelving unit, on the right side of the giant window, Whitney saw the array of picture frames organized that she always loved to look over.  They were filled with pictures of childhood memories.  O’Reilly family reunions.  Birthday parties.  Halloweens.  Pictures from school.  Playing hockey outside.  On the top shelf, an 8x10, alone: a picture of Ryan and Gareth with their arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling from ear to ear. 

“I’ll never get sick of this view,” Whitney said to distract herself from how the picture made her feel.

“Me neither,” Ryan said.  “It’s the best, isn’t it?”

Since the surgery happened earlier that morning, Ryan and Whitney arrived just in time for lunch.  But because Ryan hadn’t been at the house in months, there was no fresh food – just whatever was in the cupboards or freezer.  “Should I make us something?” Whitney asked.

“If I even have anything.  Otherwise we can order from a restaurant in Goderich.”

Whitney moved towards the kitchen, moving around it like she had lived in the house for years.  She practically had.  She found some pasta, lentils, and canned tomatoes – of course she would, since they were three ingredients that made up one of Ryan’s favourite pasta dishes.  “Pasta?” she held up the pack of spaghetti.

“Sounds good to me.”

She got started.  Ryan brought their bags into the bedroom but didn’t reappear again until the water was almost boiling and the lentil bolognese was being prepared.  Whitney looked over her shoulder.  “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.  Was just running the water in the ensuite to make sure it was okay.”

Whitney understood, having done the same for the kitchen faucet.  She turned back around and dropped half the packet of spaghetti into the pot on boiling water.  “Tub too?  We gonna have a bubble bath tonight?”

Before she could hear Ryan, she felt him.  He came up right behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest flush against her.  Nestling his head on her shoulder, he saw the corners of her lips smile.  “We can,” his voice was husky.  She could feel his breath on her skin.  “You want to?”

“It would be nice,” Whitney’s voice was soft.  “We need to have at least one by the time we go back to Toronto.”

“Deal,” Ryan said, kissing where her neck met her shoulder lightly.  They stood in silence together, his arms still wrapped around her, as the pasta boiled and the sauce heated up in a pan.  Whitney would stir the spaghetti occasionally with her free hand, the other arm placed on top of Ryan’s, their fingers intertwined.  “I could stay like this for a while,” he said.

Whitney hummed happily.  “Me too,” she agreed.  “You know how much I love how your body feels, Snook.  Especially like this.  Just wrapped up in it.”

Ryan planted more small kisses along her shoulder and neck, and when Whitney craned her neck, he kissed her on the lips too.  But like with any kiss on the lips with them, it couldn’t stop at just one; they always needed to have more.  So one kiss turned to two and two turned to four, and four turned to Whitney turning to face him, which turned into Ryan picking her up and setting her on the counter.  Ryan was in a hoodie and track pants, so Whitney wasted no time in sneaking her hands underneath the hoodie to feel his body, just as she wanted.  His toned muscles and the hair on his chest – all of it.  She loved all of it.

“God, Snook,” she breathed out as he kissed down her neck.  “How do I ever live without your body?”

“How do I live without yours?” he asked back, his large hands squeezing her thighs. 

At the same second that Ryan stuck his tongue down her throat again, the alarm on her phone sounded.  Ryan groaned.  Whitney couldn’t help but giggle.  “Eight minutes for perfect al dente pasta,” she said.

“Make it nine.”

She reluctantly pulled away from his kiss.  “Soggy pasta is gross, Snook,” she said, hopping off the counter and turning off the stove.  Ryan watched and stayed silent as she drained the pasta and added it to the sauce and lentils, using a pair of tongs to mix it all together.  They ate lunch in peace at the dining table, looking out onto the lake. 

After finishing and loading the dishwasher, they went back to what they did best, except this time in bed.  They lay side-by-side, their legs entangled and their hands exploring.  Ryan had gotten rid of his hoodie, his t-shirt the last piece of fabric to come between Whitney’s hands and his body; Whitney could feel the heat between her legs begin to build as Ryan’s hand wandered all over her body.  Sneaking her hands underneath his t-shirt again, she dragged her fingernails up and down his body, and could feel his hand move down to her ass, squeezing it before slipping in between her legs.

Ryan sat up momentarily and Whitney helped him take off his shirt; afterwards, Whitney wiggled out of her leggings as Ryan dragged them down, kicking them off with her feet.  Her shirt and bra came off soon after, her breasts pressed between their bodies against Ryan’s chest.  Their lips were already red from so much kissing, but they didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.  Ryan’s hand went back in between her legs, cupping her over her underwear.

“God, Whit, you’re already so hot,” Ryan mumbled against her lips.

She responded by hiking her leg over his torso to give him better access.  She could feel his hand move her underwear to the side, his fingers slipping up and down her pussy.  Her breath hitched in her throat.  “Stop teasing, Ry.”

“Thought you liked to be teased,” Ryan said, acquiescing and sticking one finger inside of her slowly, but easily.

Whitney whimpered, her hips grinding against his.  One wasn’t enough.  One was never enough.  “More.  More, Ry.”

He slipped a second finger into her, just as easily.  She whimpered again, especially when he began moving them in and out, up and down, curling them and hitting that sweet spot that caused her hips to buck and for her to cry out his name.  With whatever conscience she had left, Whitney snaked her hand down between their two bodies, slipping it underneath the band of his boxers and grabbing hold of his cock.  She could hear him groan at the contact, their lips parting momentarily.  “See what you do to me?” he asked, feeling her pumping him slowly.

Whitney didn’t respond – couldn’t respond – because his fingers had curled in her again.  “Keep doing that, Ry.  It feels so good.”

Ryan took the opportunity to pull of Whitney’s underwear, leaving her naked against his body as they spooned and got each other off.  Whitney kept stroking him until he was rock hard, pushing off his boxers too.  They lay in bed like that until Whitney felt herself becoming close, and when she did, she made sure to hike her leg up ever so slightly and guide his cock towards her entrance.  He took his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, much to both their pleasures.  They moaned at the same time over the feeling of being able to fill her up at this angle. 

“Does’at feel good, Ry?” she asked between laboured breaths after a while of moving in and out of her.

Ryan nodded.  “I love having you so close like this.  Your body against mine,” he said.  “It’s amazing this way.”

“Yeah,” Whitney nodded in agreement.  “I love it like this.  I love your body, Snook.”  She dug her fingernails into his shoulders.  One of Ryan’s hands was pushing her hair away from her face so gently, pumping in and out of her slowly and passionately, wanting to make it last.  She wanted it to last too, as long as possible.  Until dinner and the game?  Until midnight?  She didn’t care.  It had happened before, during one of her secret trips to Buffalo.  Ryan had had a particularly good game and they went all night, round after round after round.  Whitney called in a sick day because she was so well-fucked that she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it back in time.  Nor did she want to, really. 

As Whitney and Ryan continued, Whitney could feel herself getting close.  Her nails dug deeper and deeper into Ryan’s shoulders, and, eventually, she moved to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck.  Ryan groaned at the feeling, and at Whitney soon crying his name over and over again as he felt her walls tighten around him.  It was only when he could feel her breathing steady that he spoke again.  “Sweetness—baby—”

“Let me ride you, baby,” she said, pushing slightly so Ryan would roll onto his back.  He did and she climbed on top of him, Ryan grabbing his cock and positioning it so she could lower herself easily onto it once again.  “Fuck, baby.  That feels so good.”

Ryan’s hands immediately went to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples as she began to grind back and forth.  “You’re so beautiful, Whit,” he mumbled, admiring the view he had of her on top of him.  “Just so fucking beautiful.”

“And you’re so handsome,” she couldn’t help but smile as her hands went to his chest to steady herself.  “You’re so good to me, Snook.  You take care of me.”

“Ride me, sweetness.  Like you love to do.”

Her nails dug into his chest, because she was already close when they were spooning.  She tried to make it last as long as possible, even shooing away Ryan’s hand as it crept closer to her clit.  She got louder as she continued to ride him, and after some time, she felt another orgasm building.  She looked into his eyes.  Ryan grabbed her hands.  “Can you feel it?”

She nodded quickly.  “I’m gonna come again, Snook.  Are you close too?”

“Can I come inside you, sweetness?”

“I hate it when you don’t,” was how she chose to respond, because it was true.  She was obsessed with how he felt inside her (and she knew he was equally obsessed with how he felt inside her), which is why they were always going at one another.  She would have almost thought it was embarrassing, them going at it like horny teenagers all the time, if she didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of love every time they did.  It didn’t matter if it was quickie or a marathon.  Ryan knew how to treat her inside and outside the bedroom.  She just wished he wasn’t so hard on himself.

Whitney felt his hot cum filling her just as she wanted, the both of them crying out each other’s names in the pure ecstasy of the moment.  Eventually, Whitney collapsed onto Ryan’s body, letting the last of her shaking leave her.  Ryan wrapped his arms completely around her, holding her close against his body.  As always, when he slipped out of her, she whimpered at the feeling.  “I’ve never loved anybody like I love you, Whitney,” he whispered, his chest still heaving up and down.

“Me too, Snook,” she replied, her voice equally as quiet and soft.  “Nobody else compares to you.  Nobody has and nobody will.”

So why won’t you call me your girlfriend, Snook?

Whitney immediately pushed her thought into a place in her mind she hoped she’d never have to acknowledge again.  They were silent for a while, letting the words sink in.  They expressed similar romanticisms to each other all the time, especially after sex, but every time was equally as sentimental.  Hearing them felt especially magical when they reunited after having not seen each other in a while: during the season when Whitney would visit in St. Louis or Buffalo or Colorado, or when he was visiting Toronto for a game, or the first time when he came home in the summers.  Now that he was home, she could only imagine how often she’d hear the words.  They never got old. 

When her breathing steadied, she looked at the clock on the bedside table to see the time.  She looked back at Ryan to see his eyes already fluttering.  She couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Time for your pre-game nap?” she asked.

He tightened his grip around her.  “Sleep with me,” he said.

“I just did,” she smirked down at him.

Ryan groaned playfully at her joke.  “C’mon sweetness.”

“Let me go clean up and I’ll be back,” she said, wiggling slightly to get out of his grip.

“Don’t take too long.  I can’t sleep without you.”

***

Later that night, Ryan and Whitney cuddled on the couch under a blanket, watching the Leafs face the New Jersey Devils.  She’d changed into one of his old shirts, and they’d ordered some burgers and fries from one of their favourite diners in Goderich.  Ryan even went out to the shed to get some wood for the fireplace.  It was all very romantic. 

It was only in the intermission between the second and third period, when Whitney went into the kitchen to make some popcorn, did feelings shift completely for her.  While she waited as it popped, she wandered over to the giant window, and to the shelving unit that housed all the pictures.  Gareth was in almost all of them.  The only ones he wasn’t in were the ones specifically of Ryan’s family.  But in any of the others, Gareth stood out like a sunbeam, because that was what he was.  He was always smiling ear to ear or making a funny face.  In a Halloween photo, he’d dressed up as The Monster, and Ryan dressed up as Dr. Frankenstein.  That Halloween they pushed a three-year-old Whitney dressed as Winnie the Pooh in a wagon when she got tired.  In another photo, Ryan and Gareth posed on the ice together, buckets off, with matching hockey flow.  In another photo, Cal, Tara, Ryan, Shannon, Owen, Gareth, and Whitney all posed together around a campfire as teenagers and young adults, making smores, their faces covered in marshmallow and chocolate.  In another, all of them as kids at a beach in Goderich, having buried Owen under the sand.  In another, Ryan with Whitney on his shoulders and Gareth with Shannon on his shoulders in a pool.  In another, Ryan holding the Stanley Cup in his strong arms, and tipping it over so Whitney could drink champagne out of it.  In another, the O’Reilly family and the Napier family all posing together at Ryan’s Stanley Cup party.  Without Gareth.

When she got back to the couch with the two bowls of popcorn, Whitney was quiet, reserved, and in her own head.  Ryan noticed right away.  Even physically, she cuddled into his body even more than before, as if she needed to be as close to him as physically possible.  She draped her legs over his lap and nestled into him.  Thankfully, the Leafs won, but it didn’t make Whitney any happier.  When the game was over and the panel on Sportsnet began talking about the game and the late game-winning goal by Auston, he put his empty bowl of popcorn on the end table and draped his arm across her thighs.  “What are you thinking about?” Ryan asked as he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. 

She was quiet for a few moments.  “Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” there was another gentle kiss to her shoulder.

She was quiet again.  Maybe she should lie.  But she was incapable of lying to Ryan.  With Ryan, sure, to fool other people.  But fully incapable of lying to him.  “I’m thinking about Gareth.”

Ryan kept his lips on her shoulder momentarily.  “What about Gareth?”

“How much he would have loved this house,” Whitney said.  “How much he would have loved that it’s right on the water.  He always loved the lake so much and I’ve always found it…I don’t know – cruel, almost – that the lake took his life away from him.”

Ryan knew he would have to stay silent, for the most part.  While Whitney opened up to him often, when she opened up about Gareth, it meant something more.  Grief never faded, and it never went away.  It stayed with all of them, all the time, and would come up in little moments.  It would come up for Whitney whenever she saw trampolines, because Gareth loved trampolines when they were kids.  It would come up for Ryan when the beginning squirts of ketchup would hit his plate and he’d remember that Gareth would make a sexual sound every time that happened at parties, family barbecues (as long as Shannon wasn’t around), and out at restaurants.  It would come up for the both of them whenever they’d see people paddleboarding.  “It’s so unfair,” Ryan said.  “It’s unfair that he passed away doing something he loved so much.”

“Did you realize the ten-year anniversary is this summer?” she asked

“I did,” he nodded.  “I’m guessing your parents will have a mass.”

“I mean, probably,” she said.  “He—he would have gone crazy about you playing for the Leafs, Ry.  He would have absolutely lost his mind.  I think he still is up there—”

“—I think he still is up there—”

They said the words at the same time.  They could only giggle slightly at the sentiment they shared together out loud.  They both knew Gareth better than anyone else, so it was only natural.  “I miss him so much,” Ryan said, his voice sombre. 

“I miss everything about him,” she said.  “Remember how mad he used to get when I used to distract you guys playing video games?”

“Mhm,” Ryan giggled.  “You cost him a few Mario Kart wins, Whit.  Remember how he baked you that cake for your 13th birthday and it was absolutely fucking horrible?”

Whitney snorted, the memory coming back to her like a tidal wave.  “Oh my God.  The thing was as hard as a rock!”

“How do you think I lost my tooth?  It wasn’t hockey.”

Whitney couldn’t stop laughing at the memory.  Gareth had been so proud of it.  He made it from scratch, though he wouldn’t admit to the store-bought icing.  He had emptied every sprinkle container that was in the family pantry and put thirteen candles, plus one for good luck, in a giant one and three.  When he brought it out and everybody began singing, he pretended to fall.  When Gareth told her to make a wish, she wished for a cat, and for him to make all her birthday cakes in the future.  “He was so good.  It’s not fair that he’s not with us.”

“I know.  I wish he could be here to see all this.”

With the giggling about the funnier memories came the tears.  It was inevitable.  They were silent, and fell from her eyes quickly but silently as she continued to smile.  She wiped them away quickly.  It was how she liked to remember Gareth – goofy and loving and the life of the party – but it still brought her pain.  Her voice trembled.  “I wish he was here, Ryan.  All the time.”

“Me too, Whit.  Me too.  C’mere,” he urged, wrapped an arm around her and holding her close so she could cry into his chest. 

“It’s still so hard,” she cried.  “It’s been ten years and sometimes I think it’s harder now than it was in those initial days.  He didn’t get to see me grow up or graduate.  He didn’t get to see Owen become a doctor.  He didn’t get to see you win the Stanley Cup.  And it hurts because that’s all he ever wanted – everything he did was for other people.  All he wanted was to see us do well and it hurts that he couldn’t see us.”

“He’s watching, Whit.  Remember that,” he whispered, rubbing her back tenderly as she cried into his chest.  “He’s still with us in a different way.”

Whitney wiped her tears again.  She knew Ryan was right, but it was hard to accept.  Gareth, in his own way, looked after everybody, and one of the main ways he did it was by putting a smile on someone’s face, or making them laugh, or telling them “That’s amazing!” or “I’m really proud of you!” to boost their confidence or make them feel seen.  Whitney hadn’t felt that in ten years; neither had Ryan.  It left a hole in them that would never be filled.  She looked up at him, tears still welling in her eyes.  “You always take care of me, Snook,” she said.

“It’s what I was meant to do,” he said, giving her a peck.

She nestled back into his chest, savouring the feeling as he continued to rub her back until she fell asleep in his arms.

***

“What did you get up to while you were away from us?” John asked Ryan after practice on Friday, before the game against Edmonton. 

“Just headed out to the cottage in Goderich, made sure everything was okay,” Ryan revealed.  “Yours is in Muskoka, right?”

“Yeah.  No chance of being able to go up there in the days off, though.  Not worth the drive and the haul with the boys.  It’s like you have to plan for a cross-country road trip with them even though it’s only a two-hour drive.”

Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Bet there’s a lot of Timbits to keep ‘em quiet during the drive.”

“Timbits and iPad time,” John nodded.  “That girl that came with your parents to the game against Minnesota – she’s from Goderich?”

“Whitney.  And no – Varna, where I grew up,” Ryan clarified.  “Same small town as me.  Just a few houses away from each other, actually.”

“Aryne really liked her.  They got to talking at the game and Aberdeen’s surprise party,” John revealed.  “Bee, too – really liked her.”

“You close with Bee?” Ryan asked.

John smiled genuinely.  “I’m kinda like her surrogate older brother,” he said.  “Aryne’s in her wedding party.  Her surrogate older sister.”  Ryan understood what John was saying.  “Does she live in Toronto?  Whitney, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah.  Over in Summerhill.”

John’s eyebrows rose momentarily.  It was a pretty expensive neighbourhood, so Ryan understood why.  Not that Ryan would explain that he bought the house for her.  “I know she’s a family friend or whatever, but feel free to invite her to games,” John offered. 

“Yeah?”

“If the girls are asking for her, they must like her.”

***

“Ryan gave you an O’Reilly jersey, right?” Aberdeen asked through the phone.  She’d somehow gotten Whitney’s number, which she didn’t mind because Aberdeen was very nice. 

“Oh, definitely,” Whitney informed her.  “Why do you ask?”

“Make sure you wear something hot underneath it,” Aberdeen said unexpectedly.  “After the boys win, we’re going out for Matilda’s birthday.  To Isabelle’s.”

While Whitney appreciated the confident tone in Aberdeen’s voice asserting that the boys would win on Saturday, Isabelle’s was one of the hottest clubs in Toronto.  Whitney’s eyes immediately went wide at the mention.  She stopped leaning in her chair at her desk at work and put her feet solidly on the ground.  “Isabelle’s?  Really?  That’s quite exclusive.”

“Auston always makes the reservations for these sorts of things,” Aberdeen was very matter-of-fact.  “Everybody always says yes to him.  I mean – he’s Auston Matthews, you know?  He’s good for at least one thing.”

Whitney giggled.  “I haven’t been in a club in years.  I mean, I’m twenty-seven.  I feel like I’m gonna stick out like a sore thumb.  Ryan too.”

“Oh don’t worry, darling.  We’re all really hot so it doesn’t matter,” Aberdeen assured her.  “It’s about dancing and having a good time.  You dance, right?”

“I love dancing.”

“Then it’s settled.  You, me, on the dance floor with negroni sbagliatos.”

***

“Oh wow, that looks hot,” Aberdeen swooned as she gave Whitney a full up-down in the washroom right after the game.  Whitney had changed out of her jersey that she’d been wearing all game to reveal her outfit: high-waisted black leather pants and a burgundy-coloured crop top.  The leather pants weren’t tight, but they still accentuated her body perfectly, and the crop top, with its lace trim, spaghetti straps, and little tie-up bow in the centre was exactly the right fit.  Aberdeen didn’t even get to see why Whitney’s boobs or ass looked so good in the clothes – what Whitney was wearing underneath was a whole other story.  Pink.  Push up.  Cheeky panties with garter clips, already attached to thigh-highs with lace bands and a back seam.  For Ryan’s eyes only.  And totally a surprise.  She almost wanted to take a mirror selfie and send it to him as a little tease, but she decided against it.  The surprise would stay a surprise.

“Thanks,” she smiled, digging into her purse to find her lip liner.

“Are those the Aritzia pants?”

“You betcha.”

“How are you getting home tonight?” Bee asked, ever the responsible one, her beautiful engagement ring shimmering in the bright light of the washroom.

“Ryan’ll just call a taxi…for me,” she almost forgot to add at the end of the sentence.  “Depends when we get out, too.  If the subways are still running, my place isn’t that far of a walk from Summerhill station.”

Aberdeen giggled slightly.  “I doubt Ryan will want you taking the subway at one in the morning.  Or any of us for that matter.”

“You must go to Terroni a lot,” Bee said quickly after.

Whitney gave her a look through the mirror, smiling with her eyes as she reapplied colour to her lips.  “Way too much.  Their spaghetti in canna al mare is probably my favourite dish in the city.”

“I don’t disagree, but have you been to Sugo?” Aberdeen asked.  “Their ricotta gnocchi.  Or their meatballs.  Or their spaghetti.  Or their everything!”

“Ryan’s taken me to Sugo a few times,” Whitney smiled.  “You’re right – their ricotta gnocchi are to die for.  I eat a plate and take one to go.”

Bee and Aberdeen gave each other a look at the mention of Ryan’s name again. 

***

Ryan and Whitney took a cab with Bee and Morgan to Isabelle’s.  They got into the club without issue once they mentioned Auston’s reservation, and by that time, Pierre, Matilda, Rasmus, Lusine, and a few others were already in the booth in short skirts and high heels taking a shot together.  Whitney saw the look on Ryan’s face when she took off her coat and he got a view of her entire outfit.  Ryan was dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and blue suit pants.  He looked incredible.  So fucking hot that Whitney didn’t know how long she’d be able to last keeping her hands off him.  The music was already loud, and the club already full.  She could tell it was going to be a fun night.  It was going to be hard to keep up a façade Whitney didn’t completely know why they were keeping up in the first place. 

She and Aberdeen went up to the bar and ordered negroni sbagliattos.  When they got back to the booth, Matilda and Bee pulled them onto the dance floor, Oye Mi Canto by Daddy Yankee and Nina Sky blasting.  They began dancing together, moving their bodies to the music song after song.  Eventually, Whitney watched as Rasmus made his way onto the dance floor, sneaking up behind Lusine and snaking his hands around her hips and body.  Then Whitney saw Morgan, too, with what looked like an old fashioned in his hand, come up and snake an arm around Bee before she spun around and they began dancing together. 

When Whitney felt a body behind her, she knew right away that it wasn’t Ryan’s.  It didn’t feel like his at all – it wasn’t strong or warm, and her body didn’t react immediately to it like she always did.  She looked over her shoulder to see a good-looking guy – well, good-looking enough, but definitely not as handsome as Ryan – with rosy cheeks and a giant smile on his face.  He was dressed similarly to Ryan, with a collared shirt and nice pants on.  “Hey!” he screamed too loudly, considering how close he was. 

“Hi,” Whitney smiled.

“What’s your name?”

“Whitney.”

“I’m David!” he was continuously loud.  “It’s nice to meet you!”  They weren’t exactly in a position to shake hands, but she turned around to face him anyway.  She saw that his eyes were a bit glassed over, but all that indicated to Whitney was that he was, at the very least, already buzzed.  “You’re hooooot, Whitney.”

“Thanks, David,” she winked.  She saw Aberdeen keeping a watchful eye.  “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You here with anybody?”

Whitney hesitated.  “I’m here with friends,” she chose to say, hoping that would save her.  “For a birthday.”

“Here for a bit of fun?” David asked.

“Why are you asking?  Am I gonna have fun with you?” she countered.

David’s eyebrows raised.  “We can have fun right now!” he was overly excited, already starting to lean in.

“Whoa whoa whoa!  Slow down Casanova!” Whitney brought her hand up to cover his face.  “I’m a lady!  You need to buy me a drink first.”

“Come on!” he tried to lean in again.

“Leave my friend alone!” Aberdeen yelled, stepping in between them while still dancing – the perfect manoeuvre for separation.  “Let her dance!”

“Get out of the way!  What are you, her bodyguard?” David asked.

“I might be!”

David gave up so easily.  He turned around and rejoined his buddies, his eyes already scanning nearby for another girl to torment.  Aberdeen looked over at Whitney.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  What a jerk!” she exclaimed.

“Ryan’s coming up right behind you,” Aberdeen nodded her head over Whitney’s shoulder, signalling his impending arrival.

Whitney turned around to come face-to-face with Ryan.  “Was that guy hitting on you?”

“Yeah,” Whitney said, loud enough so Aberdeen would hear.  “He’d be so much cuter if he wasn’t such a jerk.”

Whitney had said variations of that same phrase countless times before in front of Ryan while they were with others that it didn’t mean anything to him anymore, because obviously they both knew she was still going home with him at the end of the night.  But it definitely sent Aberdeen for a loop.  She knew that at her surprise party and even now she had alcohol in her system, but was her judgement really that warped from it?  She thought for certain that Whitney and Ryan were hiding something, because, well, Aberdeen was the queen of hiding something, so she could sniff this stuff out a mile away.  But Ryan’s reaction to Whitney’s words – or lack thereof, honestly – was messing with her.  So…Ryan really didn’t care?  They were really just friends that had grown up together?

Whitney tried looking around for Rasmus and Lusine on the dance floor, but they were nowhere to be found.  By virtue of it being a club, the pumping music and all the people dancing around them meant that in just a few quick moments, they were separated from Aberdeen.  Whitney could still see her, but Aberdeen wouldn’t be able to hear them.  “You having fun with the boys?” she asked.

“You trying to make me jealous or something?” Ryan asked with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t have to,” Whitney said.  “There’s no girl in this club who could give you what I can.”

“You’re right about that,” he said.

“Bet there’s a couple of girls who have already approached and propositioned you though, huh Mr. Maple Leaf?  Have you flirted with any girls yet?”

“Now why would I say yes to that when I’m going home to this at the end of the night?” he asked rhetorically.

Why are we even keeping up this façade?  

Whitney immediately pushed her thought out of her mind.  Again.  “Whitney!  Over here!” she could see Matilda and Bee calling out to her, already swaying their hips to the beat.  She gave Ryan one last look, one last smirk.  “Are you going to be able to wait that long?”

***

Whitney took a separate taxi home than Ryan, and she even left earlier, but he somehow arrived back up in Summerhill before her.  She could tell by the light through her bedroom window.  She paid the driver and tipped generously before unlocking the door and walking in, taking off her shoes and setting down her purse. 

She walked slowly, and stood in the doorway of the bedroom momentarily to see Ryan had taken a seat on the foot of the bed.  “I saw the way you looked at me when I took off my coat,” Whitney said as she shut the door behind her, stepping further into her bedroom.  She stopped a few feet away from him.  “You seemed shocked.”

“Shocked?  No,” he shook his head.  “More like…stunned.  I was in a daze the rest of the night,” Ryan said.  “New top, hmm?”

Whitney smiled, sauntering over to him.  “Mhmm,” she nodded, playing with the strings of the tie-up bow on her chest.

“Looks good.”

“It better.  I bought it for you,” she whispered, stepping between his legs.

“Oh yeah?”

“Wait till you see what’s underneath,” she said, her hands moving outward to his shoulders, massaging them slightly.  “I bought that for you too.”

Ryan’s large hands grabbed on to her waist, where the exposed skin between her crop top and pants lay.  They looked into each other’s eyes for a while, Whitney massaging his shoulders, until she took her hands off him and brought them back to the tie-up bow on her chest, ready to untie it.  Before she could even pull, Ryan’s hands came up and stopped hers.  “No no no,” his voice was rushed whispers.  “I do that.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Slow down, Whit,” he whispered, pulling her body closer, his lips kissing at her exposed skin on her midriff.  She closed her eyes.  She felt the kisses.  She felt his hands.  She felt his hot breath on her skin.  “I just want to observe your body.”

Whitney could already feel her breath getting heavy.  Their eyes met briefly before she followed his eyes wandering along her entire body, getting lost in every curve.  His hands followed after his eyes, gliding over her neck, her breasts, her hips, and her ass.  “You look so sexy, sweetness,” he whispered as his lips met her skin again.  “So sexy and it’s all for me, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded.  “All for you.”

He stood up, his body looming over hers, and cupped her face with his hands, giving her a kiss.  As he kissed her, he dropped his hands and held both of hers, continuing his kissing along her jawline, down and across her neck and clavicle, and over the mounds of her breasts pushed up by whatever surprise was waiting for him underneath.  “Look at this body, this beautiful skin,” he breathed out, his lips dragging against her skin. 

 

“Ry—"

“This perfect body, all for me,” he spun them around slowly, giving her more kisses along her neck.  On instinct, Whitney’s hand went to the waist of her pants.  The second it got there, Ryan’s hand was there to grab it.  “Don’t touch yourself.”

“But Ry—”

“Don’t do it.  Let me touch you.  Let me worship your body.”

Whitney gulped.  She watched as he brought one of his hands up to untie the bow on her top.  Slowly.  Taking his time.  He noticed a peek of pink material under her burgundy top.  He hooked his fingers underneath her top and pulled it over her head, showcasing the pink push-up bra she was wearing.  She saw his pupils dilate at the sight of her breasts in her bra, her perfect cleavage taunting him, reminding him of other times she’d get dressed up for him like this.  Usually it was special occasions – this definitely wasn’t one, but he wasn’t complaining.  He caressed her exposed skin, placing more kisses on the mounds of her breasts now that they were exposed.  He could hear her breathing getting heavier, her chest heaving up and down as she ran her fingers through his hair.  “I got your favourite, Ry.  Pink.”

His hands moved down to the button and zipper of her pants, again taking his time.  Whitney tried to help him along.  “Don’t do it, don’t do it,” he warned.  “Let me.  Only me, sweetness.”

Whitney almost couldn’t take it.  He took forever to undo the button and zipper, pulling the pants down her legs slowly, revealing every little piece she was wearing one by one.  The panties.  The garter clips.  The thigh-highs with lace.  “You were wearing all this the whole time?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” she nodded.  “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You wanted to spoil me,” he corrected.  “Look at you.  I’m fucking obsessed with you, sweetness.”

She definitely felt that – that he was obsessed with her.  She felt like her entire body was on fire.  Seeing the absolute lust in Ryan’s eyes as he looked over her body turned her on completely.  A shiver ran up her spine as she saw his chest heave up and down at how she looked.  And to think, he looked even better in his dress shirt and pants.  “If I’m not allowed to touch myself, Ry, you better,” she warned.

“Lie down on the bed,” he ordered.

Whitney did as she was told.  She posed seductively for him, despite keeping to the rule not to touch herself, as Ryan stood looming over her at the foot of the bed.  He began to unbutton his shirt, but Whitney had other ideas.  “Don’t, Snook.  Keep it on.”

He eyed her.  “Yeah?”

“Unbutton.  And roll up your sleeves.  But keep it on.”

Ryan kept his eyes locked between Whitney and his forearm as he fixed his sleeves.  Whitney could have come right then and there, just watching him, if only she was allowed to touch herself.  He unbuttoned his shirt before taking one last look at her body posed and sprawled for him, waiting for him.  “You’re so beautiful, Whit.  I’m a lucky guy.”

He watched her smile.  “I’m a lucky girl to have you all to myself, Snook.”

When can we start sharing our relationship with other people, Snook?

He crawled into bed, his body looming over hers.  They kissed, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, before Ryan continued with his kisses all over her body.  Literally every inch was covered from her neck to her ankles.  Whitney was sure she had never felt so turned on in her life.  He took his time to cover every inch, using his lips, his tongue, and his hands to worship her body with everything he had in him.  She was breathless by the end of it all.  “Ry—oh my God…” she could barely get out.

“I could get drunk on you, sweetness.  Let me worship you.”

“I need you so bad,” she begged.  “This is perfect, Ry.  Touch me.  Please.”

Ryan complied, his hand going to her hot core.  Her panties were already wet.  He touched her through the fabric but decided that wasn’t good enough, so he hooked his fingers in the material and slid them down her legs.  She whimpered when his fingers returned, teasing her lips and driving her crazy.  “You’re already so fucking wet,” Ryan said.

“You did this to me.  You make me feel this way,” she told him.  “Only you.”

Ryan crashed his lips onto hers, his fingers still teasing her.  “Not Calum or Aaron?”

Whitney shook her head and bit her lip.  “Not even close,” she said.  “The best part of being with them was still hooking up with you during it.  And when we couldn’t I’d always picture you, anyways.  They could never make love to me like you could, because I’ve only ever been yours.”

“All mine.  Always.”

Calum and Aaron: Whitney’s ex-boyfriends.  Calum, from university, and Aaron, from after she graduated.  Calum lasted eighteen months.  Aaron lasted a little less than two years.  She had genuinely liked them, and wanted to be in a relationship with them.  And they were good guys.  When she told Ryan, he was fine with it.  She said, “But I’m not giving you up.”  And she didn’t.  She and Ryan continued what they were doing, hooking up every chance they got – in the summers, during her trips to visit him, during his short visits to Toronto for games.  Whitney knew it was wrong but she did it anyway.  She cheated with Ryan on her boyfriends.  She wasn’t exactly proud, but it was Ryan.  It was Snook.  He was her forever, and she wasn’t going to stop being with her forever.

“When you were with Justine and Kayla, was it the same?  Was your body still desperate for mine?” Whitney asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  “They were never as beautiful as you.  I’d always be thinking about you. I would count down the days until I could bury my cock deep inside you again.”

Justine and Kayla: Ryan’s ex-girlfriends.  Justine in Colorado, and Kayla in Buffalo.  Justine lasted two years.  Kayla lasted just over a year.  He had liked them, and found their relationship to be one of convenience instead of one that would stand the test of time – at least to him.  He was sure they thought otherwise.  When he told Whitney, she was fine with it.  He said, “But I’m not giving you up.”  And he didn’t.  He and Whitney continued what they were doing, hooking up every chance they got.  Ryan didn’t feel bad at all.  He knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway.  Because it was Whitney.  His sweetness.  He had promised Gareth he’d take care of her and he wasn’t going to back out of that promise for as long as he lived.  She was his forever, and he wasn’t going to stop being with his forever.

Did that make them bad people?  The thought still kept Whitney up at night.

“Do it now Snook.  Nice and slow.  Make it last.”

He unzipped his pants and pushed them down just enough to free his hard cock.  He positioned himself and entered her slowly, causing her to cry out in pleasure.  Then he grabbed her hands and held them over her head, thrusting into her at a steady pace.  Whitney moved her hips along with his, but Ryan kept her request of taking it slow and passionately, making it last for what felt like hours.  Eventually he let her hands go, and she slipped them underneath his dress shirt, feeling the slick sweat on his back stick to it.  “Look at me, baby,” she said.  “You see how good you make love to me?”

Ryan grunted in response.  “Tell me how much you need me, sweetness.”

“I need you more than anything.  You know that,” she said.  “I need you with me forever.  I need you to fuck me whenever you want.  I need you to worship my body.”

“What else?”

Whitney tightened her legs around his torso, getting him even deeper inside her.  “I need you to do what you love, Snook.  Take care of me the rest of our lives.  You love doing that, right?”

“Yeah.  S’what I was made for.”

“That’s right.  Take care of me.  Love me.  Worship my body like this.”

“I love you, Whit.”

“I love you too, Snook.  Show me how much you love me.  Take care of me.”

Does taking care of me mean marrying me, Snook?

Ryan quickened his pace, with Whitney’s screams getting louder from the pleasure and so she could block out her thoughts.  Ryan didn’t let himself go until he could feel (and hear) Whitney’s orgasm move throughout her body – then and only then did he release what was pent up inside of him, what had been building since Whitney took off her coat in at Isabelle’s.  He stayed inside of her as long as possible, and when his cock slipped out, he laid beside her.  Her breasts had practically spilled out of her bra, and both their bodies were slick with sweat for how long they’d been going for. 

They were silent for a long while, regaining their breath and re-thinking about everything that had just happened.  “Snook?”

“Sweetness?”

“I—I know I’ve asked you this before, but—you don’t think I’m a bad person for cheating on Calum and Aaron, do you?”

“No way,” he said.  “They weren’t good enough for you anyways.  Do you think I’m a bad person for cheating on Justine and Kayla?”

“No,” Whitney answered without hesitation.  “I would have—I don’t know if this is bad to say—”

“Say it, sweetness.”

“I would have, like, seduced you,” she revealed.  “And, like, I wouldn’t have cared, either.  I wasn’t going to let another girl have you.”

“You wouldn’t have had to do that.  The day I don’t want you is the day I’m dead in a casket.”

Whitney couldn’t help but giggle.  “Sometimes I don’t even think it’s cheating, what we did,” she continued.  “And I don’t know why.”

“Because we love each other.  Because you’re my sweetness,” he said.

Whitney could hear the tiredness in his voice.  This could be a conversation for another day.  Another day when her thoughts were threatening to bubble up more frequently.  She gave him one last kiss.  “Sleep tight, Snook,” she cooed as she lay her head on his chest.

“I will because you’re here, Whit.”

She felt his breathing steady.  She felt his chest rise and fall with every breath.  She tried to sleep.  She really tried.  But no matter how hard she tried, the thoughts kept coming back. 

Why have we been doing this in secret for ten years?

Why can’t we be together officially?

Why won’t you call me your girlfriend?

Why won’t you marry me?

***

“If you bring up any of that chickpea pasta bullshit Tyson’s not gonna be the only one with a history of glass in his leg.”

Nate snorted at Ryan’s deadpan delivery.  “Buddy, cool your engines.”

“Cool your engines?  What are you, my grandmother?!”

“Chill!”

“This is a good restaurant.  I like this place.  You can’t embarrass me here,” Ryan said sternly, opening the door to Gusto 101.  “I mean it, you freak.  No funny business.  Just be normal.”

The boys couldn’t stop giggling with each other as they were greeted by the hostess and led to their table.  They couldn’t even stop when they sat down with their menus, keeping up with the jabs and the jokes between looking at the menu and ordering.  It was just like when Nate got drafted again.  Those were memorable days, when they were just kids – Nate, a gawky 18-year-old with bad teeth from Nova Scotia; and Ryan, a 22-year-old who played guitar with a penchant to take the younger kids under his wing.  They hit it off right away.  Nate became “The Dogg”.  Ryan became “Factor”.  They suffered through some, well…interesting teammates and seasons in Colorado together, even playing together multiple times at the World Championships.  Now, they were both Stanley Cup Champions.  While Ryan’s exit from Colorado would always be considered a bit messy, he enjoyed his time there, and Nate (and Tyson Barrie) were the reasons why.  He kept in touch with both regularly, and visited in the summers.  They always found themselves in Toronto at one point or another. 

“Sucks that you had to get injured just a few games into the trade,” Nate remarked as they waited for their lunch – Nate ordered the branzino while Ryan ordered the cacio e pepe pasta.

“From friendly fire, too.  It was Auston’s shot.”

“You’ll be back for the playoffs, though?” Nate asked.  Ryan nodded.  “You must be stoked that you’re here.”

“It’s exciting,” Ryan said, trying to contain his emotions.  While Nate would have completely understood, they were also out in public.  In Ryan’s car, or a hotel room, it would have been a different story.  “When I found out, and I called my parents – I swear Nate, I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mom happier.  Even the conversation I had with my dad.  I’ll never forget it.”

“It’s a big deal,” Nate said.  “It’s Toronto, man.  You can be a piece of the legacy.  You know that you have what it takes.  And being healthy for the playoffs will only make you hungrier.”

Ryan was already itching to get back.  Having a broken finger was annoying because the rest of him worked, but the smallest, almost-most-insignificant part of his body wasn’t working – and he had ten of them!  It just so happened that one of the two most important fingers was broken.  The psychological torture of not being able to play when he was so ready to fucking go, especially since he spent so much time already not playing due to his broken foot, was worse.  “Yeah.  I’ll be hungry.  I want it again.”

“I want it again too, man.  Watch it,” Nate joked.

“You come for me and I’m avenging Tyson.  I’ll put you through a table,” Ryan deadpanned again.

Nate giggled.  “Why do you always turn to violence bro?  I thought all those guitars and folk music were supposed to mellow you out.”

Nate updated him on Colorado things, where he was living now and the dynamics of the team.  When their meals came, they ate, but still talked through it.  Ryan updated him on the dynamics of the Leafs and how he’d already been recognized while out and about in the city – something that rarely happened in both Colorado and St. Louis. 

“You’re not living in a hotel, are you?” Nate asked.

“No way, dude.”

“Then where are you staying?”

Ryan hesitated.  “Uh, up in Summerhill.”

Nate knew he’d heard the name of the neighbourhood before, but for a second, he couldn’t remember where from.  It wasn’t just mentioned whenever he’d pop over to Toronto for the BioSteel camp in the summers, and it wasn’t because he’d ever been there before.  And then it hit him.  “Wait, you mean with your friend Whitney?”

“Yeah, with Whitney.”

Nate and Whitney met during Nate’s first season in Colorado.  She’d visited Ryan during her Reading Week at Ryerson and took in three games.  It was the February after Gareth had passed away, so it was still a very emotional time for Whitney and Ryan.  Given that Whitney and Nate were the same age – she was only three days older than him – Ryan brought him and Tyson out with them every chance he got.  She took a liking to them quickly (especially Tyson) and had a lot of fun on the trip in general.  Nate and Tyson didn’t know they were hooking up, and they still didn’t know now.  Just friends.  She’s like my little sister.  But Nate always found it odd that when he started flirting one night after a few beers, Ryan had pulled him aside.  Absolutely the fuck not.  Nate didn’t see what the big issue was since she was flirting back.  Nate lay off, out of respect for Ryan, but he still found it odd.

Nate wondered whether he should even ask the question, but they were both grown men now, both Stanley Cup champions, both friends with respect for one another.  “Anything ever happen with her?”

Ryan played the fool.  “What do you mean?”

Nate rolled his eyes.  “There was a reason why I was flirting with her when she came to Colorado during my rookie year.  She’s cute, and she’s your type,” he said.  “Has anything ever happened between you two?”

Ryan thought back to a few weeks ago, after the game in Buffalo, when he spit on her fingers and demanded she touch herself while giving him a blowjob.  He thought back to just a few nights ago, where she got all dolled up for him in some pretty pink lingerie because she knew it was his favourite.  “No.  Nothing,” he shook his head.

“I can’t believe you, dude,” Nate said.  “No no no – I don’t believe you—”

“—Nate, I told you she’s like my little sister—”

“Bull!  That shit is said all the time.  I bet you’ve been hooking up with her and you just haven’t told anyone.”

“Nate.”

“I’m just asking you to be honest with me, bro.”

���You want me to be honest?  Okay, I’ll be honest,” Ryan prefaced.  He’d have to hide this well.  It wouldn’t be his proudest moment, but he had to do it.  “You remember when she came during your rookie season and I told you about her brother dying?”  Nate nodded his head.  “Gareth was my best friend, Nate.  And at 22 I had to see him die.  And I had to help Whitney through it too.  As my best friend lay in a casket, I promised him that I’d take care of Whit.  I’m not backing out of that promise.”

Nate stayed silent for a few moments, the weight of the words hanging between the two men as they looked at each other.  “Listen, man, I get it.  I understand,” he said in a much calmer voice.  “You guys have been through hell and back.  But isn’t the best way to take care of her…I don’t know, loving her?”

“I do love her, just not in that way.”

“Does she know that?  That you love her but not in that way?  Because she hasn’t had a serious boyfriend in a while, right?  What if she’s waiting for you?”

Ryan hesitated for the briefest of moments that Nate didn’t even notice.  “She’s not waiting for me.”

“Are you waiting for her?”

“No.”

“Alright bro, alright.  I’ll drop it,” Nate held his hands up slightly in defeat.

They continued talking about a myriad of other things.  When the bill came, they fought over who’d pay.  Ryan walked him back to his hotel and they hugged goodbye, despite knowing they’d see each other again at the arena after the game.  Ryan decided to walk around a little bit.  To think.

He thought about what Nate had to say about him and Whitney – about whether she was waiting for him or whether he was waiting for her.  He had answered the questions definitively but not honestly, because he didn’t know the true answer.  Was he unknowingly waiting?  Was Whitney?  But what superseded everything else was the promise he’d made to Gareth.  Ryan wanted to think that he’d upheld it, even just in his personal life.  Winning the Cup.  Winning the Conn Smythe.  But just buying a house for Whitney wasn’t enough.  Supporting her and making sure she was financially stable wasn’t enough.  What Ryan had a hard time admitting to himself was that he’d failed in his promise to Gareth, in many aspects, but in particular on July 9, 2015.  When he was arrested for drunk driving.

But nobody knew the real story.  Nobody knew that there wasn’t just two men in the truck that night.  Nobody knew the real reason Ryan was on the road in the first place.

Nobody knew that Whitney had been in the truck with him. 

Whitney had been at a summer party at the University of Western Ontario with some friends.  She’d been drinking all day and night without pacing herself.  It was the second summer since Gareth had passed away and she wasn’t taking it well.  She was very clearly trying to mask all of her emotions in alcohol and it wasn’t working out.  So, she did the only thing she thought to do: she called Ryan to pick her up.  He came in his old truck with his friend Burnsey, from their own party, and picked up Whitney and her friend Jessica.  They were all stuffed into the vintage trunk when Burnsey had the bright idea to get coffee to sober the girls up before they got home. 

Disaster obviously struck.  And when it did, the impact was so severe that they all jerked forward, but only Whitney’s head struck the dash – and struck it hard.  So hard that she passed out momentarily.

Ryan freaked out.  He knew for sure she had a concussion – he’d had his fair share in his lifetime, and Whitney passing out was a horrible sign.  He automatically knew that he was going to get in trouble for this – it seemed like everything was moving at a million miles an hour – but that didn’t concern him.  All he cared about was Whitney’s safety – that she didn’t get caught up in his trouble – and her health.  He didn’t care about anything else.  He looked directly at Jessica.  “Get Whitney out.  Get out.”

“But Ryan—”

“Carry her out.  Go!  She can’t be in here.”

“Bro, you can’t take the fall!  Put her at the wheel passed out—” Burnsey began.

“Fuck off!!!” Ryan yelled at Burnsey, turning his attention back to Jessica.  “Get.  Whitney.  Out!”

Jessica was at Western on a female wrestling scholarship, so it was very easy for her to get Whitney over her shoulder and run into the neighbourhood that was right behind the Tim Horton’s.  After this, things became a blur, with Burnsey yelling that they needed to skip town and Ryan only caring out Whitney and whether or not she was okay.  He remembered getting back in his car to find her.  He remembered the police coming.  He remembered the cops asking him to return to the Tim Horton’s, him asking them to make sure Whitney was okay and bring her to an emergency room, and the cops asking if she had been in the car with him.  He remembered saying no.

He remembered getting arrested after failing the breathalyzer. 

He was released easily on bail, and the first thing he did wasn’t to hire a lawyer.  It was going to see Whitney in the hospital.  She’d suffered a grade 2 concussion.  The nurse told him that Whitney couldn’t remember where she was the night before or how she’d suffered the concussion, and was positive Whitney would suffer post-concussion symptoms.  Her memory was foggy, she was experiencing headaches and dizziness, she was sensitive to light, and she couldn’t focus for more than a few minutes on something.  She was also crying a lot – emotional regulation was usually an issue in concussions.

“She seems to be speaking a bit of gibberish too, which is confusing,” the nurse told him.  “Do you know what or who a Snook is?  She keeps asking for Snook.  ‘Where’s Snook?’ ‘I need Snook.’  What or who is a Snook?”

When Whitney woke up, she cried when she saw him.  The nurse finally realized who Snook was.

Mr. Napier was called when she was discharged since Ryan couldn’t drive for 48 hours.  Mr. Napier was angry, understandably, and when the kids were home, Brian O’Reilly came over and demanded the full story from Ryan, who was honest with them both.  A lawyer was called. 

The entire event still angered Ryan to think about.  It upset him more than anything else, and it made him so disappointed in himself.  For his carelessness, for his stupidity.  It didn’t matter that his reputation took a huge blow, especially after the arrest made the news.  It didn’t matter that people made jokes about it, that whenever his name was mentioned now, or anybody wanted to make a joke about him, all they had to mention was Tim Horton’s and everybody understood the reference.  It didn’t matter that he was going to go to court and would have to defend himself.  What mattered the most was that his stupidity and his carelessness hurt Whitney.  He gave her a concussion.  A grade 2 concussion.  She spent almost two months with headaches and dizziness and other post-concussion symptoms, crying often because it was hard to do the things she loved and hard to regulate her emotions.  Ryan had promised a dead Gareth only two years prior as he lay in his casket that he would take care of Whitney, and he hadn’t done that.  The incident ruined him emotionally, and he still hadn’t gotten over it.  He’d hurt the one person he loved most in the world.  He couldn’t live with himself. 

He hadn’t taken care of her.  He hadn’t protected her, and Ryan had convinced himself that he couldn’t protect her up to the standard he pushed on himself. 

He couldn’t risk hurting her again.

***

Whitney had an array of photo albums in the house that chronicled her childhood.  She’d made copies of the photos in the albums her parents had so she didn’t have to go over there every time she wanted to reminisce.  School days, family trips, birthdays, backyard shenanigans with her brothers and friends.  Organized in chronological order, of course. 

There a few pictures in particular that brought her so much joy.  A picture of her, Owen, and Gareth at her thirteenth birthday, with the cake Gareth made from scratch that was as hard as a rock.  She loved the picture because she remembers being so happy in that moment.  A picture of her, her mother, her maternal grandmother, and her great grandmother: four generations of Gray women, reunited in North Berwick, Scotland.  A picture of Owen, Gareth, their dad, their paternal grandfather, and their great-grandfather: four generations of Napier men reunited in Edinburgh, Scotland, during the same trip.  A picture from her Sweet Sixteen where Cal, Owen, Tara, Gareth, Ryan, and Shannon decorated a ridiculous hot pink cowboy hat with pompoms, stickers, patches, glitter, sparkles, buttons, and so much more for her.  Just looking at the pictures brought back so many memories for her.  Memories of Gareth’s smile.  Memories of Cal and Owen doing handstand competitions to see who would last the longest.  Memories of Tara and Shannon’s laughs which were identical.  Memories of Cal, Ryan, Owen, and Gareth having Super Smash Brothers competitions.  Memories of the O’Reillys and Napiers going to Toronto to watch Ryan play in the GTHL for the Jr. Canadiens AAA.  Memories of secret lingering stares between her and Ryan as they got older. 

There was a photo album that she kept in her bedroom closet, more or less under a lock and key.  Photos she went to develop herself, ever since she turned sixteen.  Photos of just her and Ryan.  At first, she’d buy disposable cameras from Shoppers.  But then, Blackberries and iPhones had come out too, and she was lucky enough to have inherited Owen’s old iPhones until she could afford her own.  Anytime she and Ryan were alone together, she took pictures.  Pictures of them cuddling or posing together.  Pictures of Ryan playing the guitar for her.  Pictures of Ryan making a stupid face.  Pictures of them kissing.  Picture of them holding each other’s hand.  Ryan would take pictures of her at sunset with the beaches of Lake Huron in the background.  He’d take pictures of her wherever he brought her for sightseeing in Colorado, Buffalo, or St. Louis.  He’d take pictures of her at his houses or in hotel rooms wearing his shirts and just panties.  Sometimes she’d send him similar pictures taken by herself.  He was always appreciative.

Whitney checked the time, and when she saw it, she knew Ryan was going to wake up soon, have a shower, and that they’d have to get ready to head to the game.  She quietly put the photo album away, looking at Ryan sleeping peacefully in her bed.  She walked over and climbed into bed slowly and carefully, making sure not to wake him as she did.  For a while, she sat beside him, just admiring his features.  He was so handsome.  He hadn’t always been – he definitely had to grow into his looks.  She often tried to picture in her mind what their kids would look like, if she were ever to be so lucky.  Would they get Ryan’s nose?  Her eyes?  Did Ryan think about things like this too?

Why are we keeping this a secret?

Why won’t you be with me, Snook?

What’s wrong with me that you won’t be with me?

What did I do wrong?

Whitney regained her composure.  She pushed the thoughts down. 

Instead, she began to think of things that she loved about him, that she’d always loved about him…which was everything.  His kindness.  His protective nature.  His humour.  His generosity and capacity to give.  His mental and physical strength.  His passion.  His beard.  His nose.  His hands.  His body.  His thighs.

She moved her body closer to his and began to place the lightest of kisses on his face.  He didn’t move at first, but the kiss on the tip of his nose and on either side of his lips made his eyes flutter open slowly.  He stayed silent, coming to consciousness, realizing that she was placing kisses along his jawline.  “Whit?”

“Hi Snook.”

He smiled, still feeling her kisses.  “I could get used to waking up like this.”

Whitney smiled too.  “I’d love for that to happen.”

“I dreamt about you,” he told her, feeling her kisses along his neck.

“Tell me,” she said, kissing lower.

“Remember that night in Buffalo?”

He didn’t even have to specify which one he was talking about despite the numerous times she made the trip there.  She knew exactly which night he was referring to.  “How could I forget?”

“It was something like that,” he mumbled, a smile building on his face.

“Remember that time in the hot tub at your place in Denver?” Whitney asked between kisses.

Ryan hummed before giggling slightly.  “How could I forget about that?” he asked.  He still remembered how good she looked in the bikini she wore, which barely covered anything anyway and didn’t even last long on her, either.  He wondered briefly if she still had it.  She probably did.  “You’re so sexy, Whit.  Always.”

“Oh yeah?  Even now?” she asked.  She draped herself over his thighs, her hair falling over the top of her hoodie.  “So you’d oppose if I take this off?  Cause it’s sooo sexy?”

“You’re the worst,” he joked.  He felt her hand cup his growing erection through his track pants.  “C’mon, take it off, baby.”

Whitney obliged, sitting up momentarily to do just that before draping herself over his thighs again.  She wasn’t wearing anything special underneath, but she knew Ryan would still appreciate the view.  “Lift your hips up, baby,” she whispered, and he did so quickly.  She pushed his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock.

“See what you do to me?” he asked as she stroked his cock in her hands.

“You make me feel the same way, you know.  Always,” she whispered.  “Sometimes all I have to do is look at you and all I can think about is what you do to me.” 

Whitney kissed the tip of his cock, sucking it into her mouth soon after, causing Ryan to curse under his breath.  She maintained eye contact with him as she bobbed her head up and down slowly, taking her time.  She wanted to take it nice and slow, and she knew Ryan would like that, too. 

“You’re so beautiful, Whit,” Ryan cooed, pushing some of her hair out of her face so he could get a clearer look. 

“So beautiful with your cock in my mouth?”

“So beautiful always,” he clarified.  “But yeah, with my cock in your mouth too.”  Whitney gave him a cheeky look.  She swirled her tongue around a few times, taking him deeper, but still taking her time.  Her free hand wandered up and down where his thigh had been exposed, moving up to his abs eventually, nails grazing along his skin.  Seeing his cock go deeper down her throat was getting him hot.  “Let me take off your bra.”

Whitney indulged him, releasing his cock with a slight pop before moving up so he could reach around her and unclasp her bra.  She pulled it off, tossing it on the other side of the bed.  “C’mere, Whit,” Ryan huffed, pulling her forward so that her boobs were right in his face. 

Before she could protest, he buried his face between them, kissing and licking the skin there before taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking gently, causing her to gasp.  While she loved how it felt, her mind was preoccupied with what she wanted to do to him – and now that he’d taken off her bra, she knew exactly what that was.  “This is supposed to be about you,” she said, running her fingers through his hair before tugging him away.

“It’s never just about me, baby.  It’s always about you,” he hummed.

“Let me make you feel good, Ry.  C’mon baby,” she cooed, moving back down and draping herself over his thighs again, taking his cock back in her hands and mouth.  She went deeper than she had before.  “I’m yours, remember?”

He nodded.  “You’re mine, sweetness.”

“So show me I’m yours,” she said before taking his cock down her throat again. 

Ryan knew what she meant by that.  And as she went deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and he began to feel his cock hit the back of her throat, he knew he was getting closer, and closer, and closer.  He gathered her hair in his hands again and helped her along, his hips buckling soon after.  “Whit, I’m—”

“Let go of my hair,” she commanded immediately.  Ryan did as he was told and she started stroking him, quickly.  “Show me I’m yours, baby.  Come for me.”

“Whit—”

“C’mon, Ry.  I wanna see your cum on my chest.”

Ryan groaned and called out her name as he saw his cum shoot right onto Whitney’s chest, right along the tops of her breasts and in between them, her hand continuing to stroke him for every last drop.  He closed his eyes momentarily, almost unable to process what Whitney just did.  He couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t swallow – come to think of it, he didn’t think she ever hadn’t – but to think that she wanted it this way, that she wanted it on her, almost as if to mark her…God, he was gonna self-combust.  He watched as she kissed the tip of his cock one last time before posing as she was draped over his thighs, his cum on her chest in full view.  “Like what you see, baby?” she asked, making her voice sound innocent.  Ryan couldn’t respond – he was speechless.  She giggled at his lack of response.  “Use your words, Ry.  Did you like that?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Whit,” he was breathless.

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” she warned cheekily.  She made a point to glance over to the clock and check the time.  “You should really get into the shower or else you’re gonna be late.”

“You better get in with me.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t know if I—”

“—No no,” Ryan interrupted, grabbing at her wrist.  “That wasn’t a request.  It’s a demand.”

***

Whitney felt like she still had a natural blush on her cheeks from what she and Ryan got up to in the shower.  She wondered if anybody else in the friends and family room saw it.  With it being March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, the Leafs were wearing their special St. Pat’s jerseys, which she got a kick out of, but it gave a bigger contrast to the red in her cheeks.  Even though Ryan wasn’t playing, he had a few jerseys made for him, and he gave one to her to keep.  The other girls were wearing their green jerseys in the family room, excited about the game against Carolina.  Aberdeen told her a story about how, when she worked for Brendan, these jerseys were the bane of her existence.  Whitney didn’t even know Aberdeen had been Brendan’s executive assistant; she’d always just assumed Aberdeen wrote.  Aberdeen explained it was where she met William.  It all made sense.

The boys were heading straight to Ottawa to start another nine-day road trip, which would see them play the Senators, Islanders, Panthers, Hurricanes, and Predators.  Ryan wouldn’t be home again until next Sunday, late at night, so it was going to be a lonely nine days.

Bee had immediately taken attention to her when she got there.  They ordered burgers and fries, sitting next to each other as the boys skated on the ice for the pre-game warm up.  “I feel like between the parties and people around us during the games, we haven’t gotten to talking to get to know each other one on one,” Bee grimaced before she took a bite out of her burger.

“You’re right,” Whitney said.  “It’s just been such a whirlwind being here, too.  What do you do when I don’t see you at hockey games?”

“I work in finance at Scotiabank,” Bee said.  “I help people manage their money and investments and make sure they make money.”

“That actually sounds quite productive.”

“It’s not as glamourous as it sounds.  I love my job and the people I work with, but sometimes, I realize that I’m surrounded by people who are obsessed with money all day.  It’s good in the sense that I can leave everything at work.  When I’m home, I’m home, you know?  I’m not thinking about how the stock market is doing.  Plus, it’s what I went to school for, and it’s what I’m good at.  What about you?”

“Oh, nothing special or important at all.  I work a desk job at a PR agency, but it’s nothing fancy,” Whitney said.  “It basically pays my bills, but if something better came along, I’d take it.”

“Did you go to school for PR?”

“I went to Ryerson for communications, so sort of,” she explained.  You know…” she began, hesitating slightly.  She only met Bee a few times, but she didn’t sniff out an ounce of judgemental attitude on her at all.  “You know when you just do something to say you have a degree, but it’s not really what you want to do?  You just kind of do it so you can live and get to do the things you enjoy?”

“Of course,” Bee nodded.  “So what is it you enjoy?”

“The stuff that makes life great.  This,” she nodded her head towards the ice.  “Finding interesting recipes online and trying them out.  Reading good books.  Travelling.  Being with family.”

“I hear ya.  Focusing your attention on what really counts.  What really matters.”

“Exactly.  And…I mean, at the end of the day, I want nothing more than to become a mom,” Whitney revealed.  “I know that’s very—”

“—You don’t need to defend or apologize for your desire to become a mother more than anything.  No woman should have to apologize for that.  That’s the beauty of feminism,” Bee said quickly.  Whitney nodded, because she understood.  She was a staunch feminist too.  “And I totally get you.  I want to become a mom too, but I just wanted to build my career first.”

“I’ve just always pictured myself as a mom first.  I’ve always wanted a big family.  Kids, dogs, cats, house in the city – you name it.  Shuffling them around to hockey or dance or tennis – that’s how I want to be in the future.  That’s what I want out of life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.  That actually sounds quite lovely,” Bee smiled genuinely.

“Just waiting for my Prince Charming, I guess,” Whitney blurted out before her mind could realize what she was saying. 

“Haven’t found him yet, hmm?” Bee asked.

Whitney thought of Ryan.  “Not yet, unfortunately.”

He wants to keep it a secret.

There’s something holding him back.

There’s something wrong with me.  There has to be.

I must have done something wrong.

#ryan o'reilly #ryan o'reilly imagine #ryan o'reilly fic #ryan o'reilly fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #toronto maple leafs fanfic #ryan o'reilly fanfic #ryan o'reilly blurb #toronto maple leafs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #lost in the memory series

[yappyappyapp]

babe, only you.

jack hughes x reader

to feed my jack obsession recently, here’s a bit of angst and fluff (no mature content). please, enjoy.

also: there’s no proofread, so..

—————————

you found yourself always wondering; “am i good enough for him?”, “do i deserve him?”. comments had been lashed out earlier this evening to darken those already eerie thoughts that you fought so hard to not reside with. a long, long stay.

jack came into the room, that was the man that’s ‘in love with you’. those thoughts slashed at your mind little cuts kept wracking your head. the trance you were in was broken by your lovers lips lovingly placed onto your head, and you felt the couch slightly dip when he sat down beside you. his arm snaked around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, your head lying on his shoulder.

no one questioned if he did enough in this relationship. no one made snarky comments on how he was so quiet, how he looked like he never put enough effort into how he showed his love, but they did to you. and it was torture trying to hit those thoughts out of your brain. every single one of those comments lingered for longer and longer each time someone made another.

“what’s wrong?”

his soft voice lingered in the room as he ran his calloused hands up and down your arm. the television was playing in the background, an old re-run of big bang theory, muted, but with subtitles.

“jack, it’s just,” you started, why couldn’t you form words. a pang in your heart stung against your chest. “i don’t deserve you.” you whispered, he froze, eyes straying from the tv and to your slumped form against him.

“what makes you think that?” he murmured, his blue eyes connected with your glossy (e/c) ones.

“i- im not good enough-“ you were cut off by a sweet kiss to the lips. “don’t talk like that. i don’t care if your quiet, i don’t care what people say about our relationship, (y/n)!” he exclaimed. “people don’t know you, and how lucky i am to actually know and to be with you. i thank anyone in the skies above that they let me hold your hands. you are everything, my universe, my world. don’t let people tear into you.”

he rubbed his hands up and down your spine as you sobbed painfully into his chest, dampening his shirt.

the thoughts were still there, but at least you had someone to guide you along this long and winding road.

“i love you.”

#hockey #hockey boys #jack hughes #new jersey devils #puck #fanfic #jack hughes x reader #i love them so much it’s so crazy they are so hot and beautiful and good with kids total husband material for me omg ogmgog gogmfofm #anyway. good vibes only this brings me so much joy.. theyre so soft and sweet...... #angst with a happy ending #fluff #send help #toronto maple leafs #mitch marner #quinn hughes #what am i doing #hughes brothers #luke hughes #nhl players #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl all star 2024

[austonwithan-o]

“We’re parents? Like actually parents?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

#auston matthews #nhl fic #nhl players #nhl writing #nhl #auston matthews x reader #auston x mitch #mitch marner #willy nylander #toronto maple leafs #toronto #nhl fanfiction #hockey players #hockey #nhl hockey #nhledit #fanfic #auston matthews smut #auston matthews fic #mitch marner x reader

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Fifty Six

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut - fingering, cum play, dirty talk, maybe a slight voyeurism kink, interrupted sex, inadvertent orgasm deprivation, light degradation? I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,000

Auston didn’t know when they went to bed. The curtains had been left open and the faint glow from the moon was filtering in, but he had to make good on that promise from the roof. And even then, he wasn’t done because they were both drenched in sweat, and there is something about warm beads of water cascading over his girlfriend’s chest that always ended with Auston on his knees.

Sure, it could be considered reckless to stay up that late given they have a three-year-old who has been known to barge in before the sun broke the horizon looking for breakfast. But what was Auston supposed to do, not celebrate the fact Tia finally admitted she loved him? They had talked about getting a puppy, having more kids, getting married, they planned their future, but hearing those words roll off her tongue cemented to him that it was real. As if those four years were nothing more than a long and hazy nightmare he finally awoke from.

When Auston did wake up around 9:20, he planned on quietly crawling out of bed, finding Taylour (he knew one of his friends was keeping him entertained for the time being) and wrangling his help to make her breakfast in bed. A simple gesture, one he had been deprived of for so long. It was his plan, and it was a great plan, then he saw the faint marks on her shoulders, the marks he left, and everything changed. All reason was long gone, and his primal instinct took over. If he could keep her there all day, he would.

“Aus.”

Her nails scratch along his broad shoulder and her body arches into him. Even though she is pulsing with oversensitivity, she doesn’t know if she’s had enough, if she ever will have enough.

“Babe –“ She gasps, sharply.

“What?” He grins, moustache tickling her ear.

“We gotta to get up.” He can tell she wants there to be weight behind the words, but her body is saying something completely different. “So much to do…”

“How am I supposed to get anything done when you’re naked in our bed?” Auston murmurs thickly against her jaw.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The sheets are a mess. Pillows are on the floor. The stench of sex is heavy in the room.

“So...” His hands roam all over her body. He cups her breast, which somehow overflows in his big hands. “What’s on your list this morning?”

“Yoga.”

“Pretty sure we already did that.” Satisfaction curls on his lips.

“I want to finish up something I’ve been working on…” She trails off for a moment as he licks up her neck, tongue following the bite marks left the night before. “Have to check in with Becks…” Auston grins, the heat flaring behind her cheeks says that won’t happen anytime soon.

“What about fucking your boyfriend?” Auston’s fingers carve into the swollen flesh of her ass.

“I believe I did that already.” He moves his fingers around to her pussy lips and the inside of her thighs, and they are wet, absolutely drenched in their hot sticky mess. “That’s why we’re still in bed.”

“You should put it back on the list, maybe twice.” Auston’s mouth slowly begins to work its way down, first to her collarbone, then her breasts. As his warm tongue swirls around her sensitive nipple, her slick grazes over his member and a deep guttural groan erupts.

“Is that so?” She breathes out a laugh while tugging harshly on his curls.

“Yeah.” Two fingers once again find their way inside. Her body arks toward him and within a few seconds they begin to move. The disgusting slurp of her cunt fills the room as he thrusts them faster and faster. Her walls greedily grasp and hug his digits, never wanting to let him go. Her elbows give out and her body collapses into the bed, quickly and desperately clawing at the sheets.

Auston smirks and applies more pressure. His left hand grabs at her knee and tosses it over his shoulder, earning him a shriek from the deepest part of her diaphragm. Auston fucks his fingers back inside. Every stroke is precise, his knuckles crooked at the knuckle to create the perfect angle. “Can’t decide if I want to eat the cum out of you before I fill you back up.” Auston licks his bottom lip, his fingers massaging her g-spot. “Or if I should bury myself inside and make ya overflow…what do you think?”

“Fuck me.” Tia whispers to herself.

Auston chuckles, a little breathless. “I’m going to.” He circles his thumb around her clit, fingers rhythmically seeking her high. “You taste so good, can only dream of what we taste like together.”

Tia whimpers at the emptiness as Auston pulls his fingers out. He brings them up to her mouth, and without instruction Tia drops her jaw and wraps her lips around them. They both moan as she swirls her tongue around his digits, working to clean the mess. Quickly, he snaps his wrist and runs the saliva and cum coated fingers along her jaw. With a cocky brow raise, he shoves his tongue into her mouth.

“Better than I imagined.”

His hand moves to her hair, and she bites at her lower lip. He knows she washed her hair yesterday. He also knows she will scold him for this later. He just doesn’t care. He moves the head of his shaft down through her folds, allowing it to rest at the opening for just a second, then he buries himself deep inside her warmth.

He messily kisses her once again, taking the time to embrace the wetness that oozes out around his cock. He pulls his hips back, and right before he is about to drive back inside, her hands are on his shoulder trying to push him away.

“Stop.” Her eyes snap open, wide with fear. His brows contort with confusion, then he hears it. Little feet pattering down the hall, his playful giggle getting louder and louder with every step. They both knew they were pushing their luck going for round two, but like a moth to a flame, Auston couldn’t pull himself away.

“Taylour, come on bud, let’s go.” Fred’s voice calls, louder than normal trying to warn those on the other side.

The doorknob begins to jiggle. Tia’s breathing becomes frantic . The slow creak gets louder and louder, and Taylour’s voice enters the room. “I want to show them my trick.”

The more the door opens the more Tia’s face whitens. Auston scrambles off her and scours the floor for a shirt, pants, some piece of clothing to toss on before Taylour barrels in. But everything is everywhere, all he can find is the sheet which he tosses toward Tia.

“Mommy and Daddy are sleeping.” Fred tells him, pulling the door shut. “Why don’t we practice more, and you can show them when they wake up?”

“Because practice makes perfect,” Taylour agrees with a nod.

“Right.” Fred nods down the hall. “Let’s go.”

Auston waits a few seconds until Taylour’s feet are down the hall, then calls out, “Thanks Fred.”

“Yup,” Fred hollers through the door.

**

“I’m not sure about this.” Tia runs her finger along the strap, then smooths over her stomach.

Once they heard the footsteps fade down the hall and the stair boards creak, Auston and Tia were out of bed. Tia ran a comb through her hair while glaring at Auston for the ends that had fused together, then swiftly threw it up on the top of her head. Auston grabbed a bathing suit –because every day ends with them in the pool – and one of his t-shirts. The two of them went downstairs and Tia started making them smoothies, and Auston set out to get the avocado ready for their breakfast. After inhaling their food, Auston was outside, showing off his backflips – always a favourite with Taylour - and Tia was upstairs in her sewing room.

Once the workspace was mostly complete, she finished the couple orders that were outstanding, then set out designing a few new pieces to expand her line. She sketched out seven new pieces, three of them made it through the 3D rendering, then she began the process of cutting fabric, pinning it together and trying to bring her visions to life. One was easy, only needed a few minor tweaks but was now ready to go to the testing phase. The other two she has been stuck on. Nothing seemed to work, and Tia was about ready to scrap them both and start over, but before that she decided to reach out to the one person that might be able to help.

Celeste presses her glasses back up her nose and shuffles in her seat, as if trying to get a better view from Toronto.

“Yeah…” She hims through the speaker. “I see what you were talking about…I think the point near your underarm needs to go up a bit.” Tia turns toward the camera and lifts her arm, then points to the area she assumes Celeste is talking about. “Yeah,” she confirms. “It’s a little…” her face crinkles as she thinks over the next word.

“Aggressive?”

Celeste feigns a laugh. “That may not be the word I’d use…but yes.”

“The prototype looked so good.” Tia sighs. She thought the dress was going to be the easiest to bring to life. But when she tried the top on it sat low, dangerously low, to a point if Tia moved too much everything spilled out. Despite Auston’s objections, she added fabric to the bodice to bring the neckline up, only it came up too much. Next, she cut a bit out but then she didn’t like the neckline, it was too squared off and simple, so she tried to curve it but overcompensated as indents are being left in her skin.

“That’s why we test them out. I can’t tell you how many pieces I thought were good until I tried them on.” Celeste tries to reassure her with a faint laugh, but this part never gets easy. “It’s not that far off, dear.”

“Yeah.” Tia’s nose crinkles again, almost at her wits end with this one.

“What about the top you were working on.” Celeste steers the conversation away, hoping it has better results. “You decide on a sleeve?”

A few days ago, Tia sent Celeste a picture of a satin top with a simple square neck and subtle pleats in the bodice. The hem was unfinished and there were many pins, but what caught her attention was the two distinctly different sleeves styles. One was short and puffy, and the other was a simple and slender arm with a bell style sleeve. Tia said she was unsure of which one worked best. Celeste called it a copout, called her out to doubt herself and said she wasn’t going to help. It might have been tough, but Celeste knew she needed to make this decision on her own.

“Yay!” Celeste claps when she sees the long and flowy sleeve. This was always the right choice; she is glad Tia figured it out on her own.

“I love that one. Definitely the right pick”

“It’s playful but classic.” Tia smiles with her mentor’s reassurance.

“Completely elevates that top. Tia, I know I’ve said this before, but you have a bright future ahead of you, some people are years in the industry without the eye you have.”

“Thanks.” Tia softly laughs, a faint blush swarming her cheeks.

Now that the prototype is complete, it’s ready for Tia to make a few more and ship them back to the “testers” back in Toronto and get their feedback. Then there are the edits, photoshoots, uploading details to the website. Just when she thinks the finish line is near, she realizes just how far it is.

The two of them talked for a little while longer. Celeste told her about all the struggles she’d been facing as a store owner while in a global lockdown. Her store was forced closed, curbside pickup and online orders were slow, some days non-existent. It filled Tia with so many emotions but worry and regret were the ones she couldn’t shake. If someone who had been successful in the industry was struggling at the drop of a hat, what did it mean for her? Sales were slow, to be expected for a new line, but how long could they be slow before they stopped all together?

**

Tia put the finishing details on the shirt but left the dress on the mannequin. Normally putting it off wouldn’t be an option. It’d eat at her, knowing there was so much to do but  not knowing how to fix it. But today as she walked down the hall toward the stairs, she had zero hesitation walking away because something else had consumed her mind.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Taylour screeches when the patio doors open. “Mommy, help!” He giggles mid-air as Auston tosses him to the other end of the pool, a large splash erupts around him and a few seconds later his head pokes through the surface.

“I can’t help you.” Tia chuckles as she shuffled around the pool’s edge, her feet getting kissed by the exploding water.

“Why not?” Taylour flings his arm around and starts moving toward Auston.

“Because every time I help, your dad throws me in the water.”

“Not true.” Auston winks at her.

Tia shakes her head.

“Please mommy!” Taylour squeals as Auston grabs him by the waist and once again launches him in the air.

Tia flips her wrist and glances at the time on her watch - the very expensive watch Auston brought back from the California road trip because he “thought of her when he saw it.” “We actually have to go, Taylour.”

“Nooooo!” He emphatically shakes his head.

“Yup.” Auston moves toward the stairs. The water line slowly descends, more and more of his chest coming on display for Tia to gawk at. As he moves toward the steps, he grabs Taylour and tugs him. “You said you wanted In and Out for lunch, we have to go get it.”

“Why can’t I stay with Uncle Freddie, and you bring it here.” Taylour pouts. He stands on one of the pool steps, half in – half out of the water, hoping to convince Auston to let him stay.

“Because we’re your parents not Uncle Freddie. Uncle Freddie doesn’t have to spend his time watching you.”

“I want to stay with Fweddie.”

“Well, you’re not.” Auston bites sharply, letting his frustration poke through. “You’re coming with Mommy and I.”

“I don’t want to go with you and Mommy,” he huffs, angrily smacking his hands against the water.

“Taylour, you are coming. Get out of the pool and get dressed, now.” Auston demands, but Tia catches the inflection in his voice and the smirk curving his lips.

“But why?” He raises his voice, becoming more frustrated with Auston’s unusual stern nature. Tia knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting her son from the pool, it never was.

“Because I said so.” Auston barks. “Keep it up and you won’t get to swim for the rest of the week.”

Taylour releases a loud and dramatic groan, then once again smacks his hands against the water. He stomps past Auston, grumbling under his breath, and goes right to Tia who has a warm fluffy towel waiting for him. Having lost the battle with his father, Taylour sets his sights on Tia, hoping for a different response.

“I don’t want to go, Mommy.” Taylour whined softly while he nestled his head to the crook of her neck. She hears the broken exhale and knows tears are on the way – he doesn’t handle Auston’s frustrations well - she just doesn’t know if they are real or fake.

“I know.” Tia kneels and starts rubbing her hands over his back, drying him off while softly comforting him. She gently tilts his head, and swats at the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. “You have to come with us, sweetie.”

“Why?” Taylour sniffles, barely choking back the lump in his throat.

“Because we have a surprise for you.” Auston cards his hand through Taylour’s drenched curls and grabs his own towel.

“A surprise?!” He immediately perks up, his eyes widen and dart up to Auston. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you, silly.” Tia playfully boops his nose.

As if the last thirty seconds never happened, Taylour immediately takes off toward the sliding door and gives it a firm tug to drag it open. He runs inside too excited to close the door behind him, then scurries across the hardwood.

“No running on the stairs!” Auston yells after him, but he is too late, Taylour is at the top of the stairs, slipping on the hardwood as he sprints past the railing that overlooks the living room.

“What did we get ourselves into?” Tia jokingly whines when Taylour lets out an “ooh” as he uses his palms to catch himself from falling.

Auston wraps his painted arm around Tia, over her shoulder. Tia brings her hand up and grabs his, then leans against his hard chest. Little drops of water land on her shoulder and in her hair. In an almost scarily still tone he whispers, “you’re going to miss this level of calm.” The worst part is, he is right.

**

Like most car rides, Taylour quickly became impatient. It wasn’t long after he finished his cheeseburger and shake before the “where are we going,” “how much longer” and “are we there yet” started. They knew the almost hour drive would be long, and planned for it, but no amount of movies, superhero action figures, colouring books would be enough, when all he wanted was to do was swim.

“Mommy, I’m bored.” He whines and dramatically throws his head back against the car seat. He tosses the tablet, and it lands on the floor, bouncing on impact.

Auston huffs out a dry laugh. Like Taylour, his patience is wearing thin. “Wouldn’t be if you watched the movie.”

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore.” Taylour promptly informs him. His feet kick against the car seat and he dramatically sighs, again.

“We’re almost there, Tay.” Tia turns in her seat and silently laughs at his outfit choice. He insisted on getting ready himself and his shoes are on the wrong feet, his shirt must have come from the laundry given the ketchup stain on the chest, and his shorts are bright neon yellow. The fashion designer in her cringes but as a mom, she is thrilled that he is dressed, and understands that some battles aren’t worth it.

“How many minutes?”

“Less than five.” She picks up the tablet and pauses the movie, then puts it in her bag.

“That’s too long.” Taylour kicks his legs out in a frustrated fit.

“Of course, it is.” Auston mutters sarcastically, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

Tia snaps her head to Auston, and she gives him a look, one he hasn’t seen often but immediately recognizes. “I promise, you’re going to love your surprise.”

They continue driving down the quiet rural road, slowly maneuvering turns. Whatever playlist Auston selected is quiet, so quiet the only sound is the air conditioning whirring through the vents and the rhythmic beeping of the blinker. Tia presses her head against the window and watches the dust kick out from under the tires.

“We’re here.” Auston announces once the vehicle is parked in front of a large farmhouse.

Taylour perks up and tries to sit up in his seat as much as possible. He takes in the surroundings, a blue house with a simple white fence, not distinguishing or exciting for an almost four-year old.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, not hiding the disgruntled look on his face.

“This is a boring surprise, Daddy.”

“You sure about that?” Taylour freed himself from the car seat, and when Auston opens the door, he is quick to leap out.

“Yeah.” He crinkles his nose and closes the car door behind him. “There is no slide or pool, nothing fun.”

Tia hears small overlapping barks and yips coming from inside the home, her heart flutters. She has been waiting for this day her entire life.

Gravel crunches under her feet as she strolled around the car. She crouches down and puts her hand on her knees, bringing herself to Taylour’s eye level. She adjusts his ball cap over his curls then smiles. “Would it still be a bad surprise if we told you there were puppies inside?”

His brown eyes glow. “I want to see the puppies!” He blurts out.

Auston crouches down and smiles, almost bigger than Taylour. “What if we told you; we’re going to bring one home?”

“MY OWN PUPPY!” Taylour screams while jumping in the air.

“A family puppy.” Auston corrects him.

“I’M GETTING A PUPPY!” He shrieks, unphased by what Auston told him.

Auston knew he would be excited when he found out. He assumed there would be jumping and screaming, thought there was the possibility of joyful tears. What he didn’t count on was Taylour being so excited he’d sprint past them toward the front door without another word.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Taylour pounds on the door as hard as he can. “I’m here for my puppy!” Knock. Knock. Knock.

Auston and Tia had barely made it two steps before the door creaks open, a middle-aged woman stands on the other side.

“Hello.” She smiles to Taylour, then to Auston and Tia.

Taylour bounces on his heels, even though they can’t see his face they know he is beaming from ear to ear. “Hi, my name’s Taylour. I’m here for my puppy.”

“Taylour, you can’t just – “

“It’s fine.” She laughs, Taylour isn’t the first child to react this way. She moves to the side to let him pass then waits for Tia and Auston to make their way up the porch.

“Sorry, he has wanted a puppy since before he could walk.”

The three of them hear Taylour squeal as an overlapping chorus of barks and whines echo down the hall.

“No apologies needed.” They all step inside and see Taylour standing on the outside of the fenced in area. He is leaning as far as he can without losing his balance, scratching the tops of the puppies’ heads, giggling the entire time. “I’m Sandra, and that,” she eyes over to the full-size Bernese Mountain dog who is across from Taylour keeping a watchful eye on her pups, “is Stella the mom.” Shortly after a white poodle rounds the corner and walks right up to Auston, nudging his hand for some pets. “This suck is Teddy.”

“Hiya Teddy.” Auston bends down and is instantly met with a lick to the cheek.

“Which one is mine?” Taylour’s head is on a swivel. This puppy. That puppy. That puppy. He can barely keep up. 

“We have to pick it.” Auston tells him.

“You can go in.” Sandra offers, motioning to the pen.

Auston and Tia step over the gate, then Auston hooks his arms under Taylour’s armpits to hoist him over. The three of them fall to the floor, immediately being swarmed by the puppies.

“Mommy!” Taylour giggles as one with a pink ribbon licks his cheek. “Mommy, I want this one.”

“Yeah?” She grins, gently scratching behind the ear.

“Any with a ribbon have a home already,” Sandra tells them. “They’ve all had their first round of shots and will be ready for the next one in about two weeks.”

“Daddy, look!” Taylour nods to his foot, where one is gnawing on his sock, attempting to pull it off.

“This one’s trouble huh?” Auston scoops up the black and white ball of fur, taking Taylour’s sock with him, then cradles it in his arms.

“He’s silly.” Taylour broadcasts, trying to yank the sock out of its mouth.

When the puppy keeps his jaw tightly clenched around Taylour’s sock, he sets the puppy on his lap to the ground and crawls over to Auston. He pets along its side with one hand, his other tugging on the sock, laughing the entire time. Finally, the puppy releases the sock only to start chewing at Auston’s wrist.

“I want this one.” Taylour gives it a kiss.

“Really? What about this one?” Tia eyes to the one curled in her lap, eyes getting heavy.

Taylour takes a second to glance between the two dogs, pondering Tia’s suggestion. She obviously knows just because a dog is calm now doesn’t mean it always will be, but something, most likely her motherly instinct is telling her not to pick the one already biting.

“Uhmmm.” He ponders. Taylour scoots closer to Tia to look at the puppy in her lap. “Ohh, this one is cute too, Mommy!”

“Mhm.”

Taylour’s eyes rapidly dart between the two dogs, and he appears deep in thought, but they both know he has zero selection criteria. A twinkle catches his eye, and his entire face somehow lights up even more.

“Can I have both puppies?”

“No.” Tia is very fast to answer.

“Puh-lease!” He turns to Auston. His move always is to try the other parent with hopes for a better outcome. “Please can I get two puppies, Daddy?”

Auston looks to Taylour, then to the puppy curled up in Tia’s arms sleeping, then to the one nibling at his wrist, and sighs. “I don’t think –“

“Please, Daddy! They can play together.” He eagerly cuts him off, desperately trying to bring home two dogs.

“Then who will you play with?” Tia can see the way Auston’s face is softening and knows she will have to be the one to shut this down.

“I’ll play with them, we’ll be best friends, all three of us!”

“I think we only need one dog for now.” Auston says dimly, but Tia knows if she wasn’t here to supervise, Auston would be bringing two dog’s home.

“No!” Taylour carefully climbs over the puppies and their toys to get to Auston and wraps his arms tightly around his neck. “We need two puppies, Daddy!”

Auston makes the mistake of looking at Taylour and sees the large pout and beady eyes, a cuteness barely rivalled by the puppy in his lap. Taylour falls to his knees and gets directly into Auston’s sightline. He puts his hands together as if he is praying, and desperately pleads with a croak in his voice. “Please can we get two, Daddy? Pleeeeease?”

Auston hates how his son knows exactly what to say and how to say it to make him forget all reason.

“Tay,” Auston sighs and prepares himself for the heartbreak, but he knows Taylour will get over it faster than Tia’s frustration if he gives in. “Just one.”

There is a groan that develops deep in his stomach as his shoulders drop. “No fair.”

“Look at how cute this little guy is though.”

Auston holds the wiggly puppy a little higher and hands it to Taylour. An excited yip comes from the puppy and a smile begins to creep its way back to Taylour’s face. “He is cute, Daddy.”

Auston reaches over and grabs a small stuffed pig and gives it to the puppy who wraps his mouth around it and starts whipping its head from side to side. “I want this one.” Taylour informs them without an ounce of hesitation.

Auston and Tia left Taylour with the puppies and found Sandra in the kitchen. They went over the paperwork and fine details. She gave them a bag with some food, a small blanket, along with a binder full of health information and veterinary records.

By the time they wandered back to the living room a few minutes later, Taylour had forgotten about his desire to bring home two. He was on his knees, heels digging into the back of his thighs, squeaking the pig in an attempt to engage the puppy.

“You two ready?” Tia walks to the edge of the puppy fencing, Auston’s hand on her back.

“Mhm.” Taylour enthusiastically nods. He stands up and Auston bends down to help him over then scoops up their puppy. “Thank you for my puppy!” Taylour addresses Sandra while making a beeline for the door.

Once Taylour was in the car, which was a task, he demanded the dog sit with him. Tia was a little uneasy about leaving them alone in the back, she had a feeling she should sit with them, just in case the puppy fell or wandered away and somehow found his way under a seat, but Auston assured her everything would be fine. He could tell she was anxious, so he reached over the console and laced his fingers with hers, then brought it to her lips and placed kisses on the back of her hand, knowing that would bring her to ease.

“What should we name him?” Auston asks as they sit at a red light, the steady sound of the blinker being drowned by the noise coming from the backseat.

“Rex.” Taylour proudly proclaims.

“Rex?” Auston probes with a laugh. The suggestion undoubtedly comes from the recent viewing of Toy Story. “I don’t know if that suits him.”

“Pickles!” He cheers from the back seat.”

“Pickles?” Tia shakes her head; she knew letting the almost-four-year-old name the dog would be a terrible idea. “What about Bernie?” She suggests in reference to its breed.

“No.” They simultaneously protest.

“How about Felix?” Auston pipes up. He doesn’t know why but the second he held him, that name felt right and it’s hard for him to imagine the dog as anything else.

“Yes!” Taylour promptly agrees. “I like that!”

Auston kept his hand linked with hers over the console as he drove the quiet Scottsdale streets. His eyes were mostly on the road, but he couldn’t help glancing in the rearview every chance he got, spending red lights turned around staring at Taylour and Felix.

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur. Taylour was eager to show Felix to Trevor and Fred. He had to FaceTime Mitch, Becks, Emily and Max,Sarah and Charlie, every person he knew. He never wanted to leave Felix, even tried getting him to come to the bathroom with him. He would lay on the floor beside him while he napped, pull him into his arms for pets, dangle a toy over his head, or run around in the yard, trying to get him to follow. Felix was a little overwhelmed at times, often quiet and reserved, unsure about the toys and people around him, but that didn’t stop Taylour. He was determined to be that pup’s best friend no matter what.

**

Auston found Tia in the kitchen checking her e-mail. Some Disney movie Taylour long ago lost interest in plays in the background, he uses the noise to sneak up in front of her. He presses himself into her and chuckles when she jumps.

Droplets of water fall from his hair and splatter on her shoulder, the towel that hangs loosely over his hips rubs against her thigh.

“He’s so happy.” Auston places a gentle kiss on her temple.

She peers out the glass doors to Taylour who is sitting on a lounger with Felix in his lap. She doesn’t know what he is saying, but he constantly laughs and places kisses to his head. Her heart is about to explode. She lets out a contentious sigh and rests her arms on his shoulders, aimlessly fiddling with the metal wrapped around his neck. “I’m so happy we did this.”

“Me too.” Auston tugs at her pony and tilts her head back, then places a kiss on her lips. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”

Tia is expecting another kiss on her lips, only Auston ducks down and starts sucking along her neck.

“Auston.” She tries to scold him, only to shriek when he grabs a handful of ass from under her damp bathing suit.

“I want to kiss my girlfriend without a little parrot announcing it.”

“I know.” Tia sighs, because he has been announcing it - six times so far. “But we should go to our boys.”

Our boys.

Auston loves the way that sounds and even though it’s only been a couple hours he can’t wait until their family grows even more.

“They’re fine, Fred and Trevor have it under control. “Besides, you have a boy here who needs you.” He rolls her hips over his slowly growing erection and carves his nails into her flesh.

“Auston.” She playfully swats at his chest, letting out a breathy laugh.

“I told you to add fucking me to your list of things to do today,” he growls.

His fingers trail over her skin, pricked with goosebumps, until they find the bows that are holding up the barely-there bikini bottoms. His fingers tangle in and he begins to tug, loosening the knot.

“It’s like 4 pm.” It’s a futile attempt. They both know it.

Having heard no reason to stop, Auston quickly hoists her onto the counter. The towel drops to the floor as he presses her knees apart. He gently teases his fingertips past the seam of her lips, sending a ripple of goosebumps up her spine.

She wants to give in.

She can’t help it.

She spent too much time without him, her heart (among other things) physically ached for him and his touch. She never wants to be without it again, never wants to crave his physical touch like she did.

Following the hitch in her breath, two fingers slide inside, and are greedily welcomed by her heat. She arches toward his electric touch and his mouth moves toward the sweet spot below her ear.

It barely takes two minutes before a slew of curse words roll off Tia’s tongue. The air between them gets sticky and Auston licks up her neck. She can see the bulge beneath his bathing suit, rapidly swelling as he continues to stroke her inner walls. Through the pleasureful haze Tia barely manages to get her fingers under the waist band.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Auston purrs against her neck, teeth nipping at her warm skin. Pressure builds inside her – everywhere – as Auston pets her silky inner walls. “I’m gonna bend you over this counter.” Auston’s breath is hot and heavy against her skin, fanning over her in hypnotic waves. “Kitchen’s gonna be so dirty we’ll need a hazmat team.”

Tia shudders. Her cheeks colour pink.

She wraps a leg around his hip and pulls him close. His left hand immediately finds her thigh and runs up and down. Fingerprints are left on her hips; bright red scratch marks decorate his shoulders. He’s hungry and he won’t stop until he’s had his fill of her.

“That’s what you want, right?” All thoughts disappear from her mind when his thumb starts caressing her swollen clit. Every part of her is consumed by him, and she struggles to even breathe. “To use my cock to christen this place, huh?” Her breasts bounce following every thrust, threatening to spill out of the stringy bikini top any moment. Little butterflies dance in her belly. She is barely keeping it together and Auston can tell. “M’gonna fuck you so hard a black light will break in here.”

“Mngh.” Tia chokes out, as if her tongue is glued to the top of her mouth.

“Let my friends hear.” Auston encourages her. He spits in his hand then it disappears, slathering his cock in saliva. She shudders when his warm erection nudges against her throbbing clit. “Cum baby. Show them how good I make you feel.”

Auston kneads at her fraying nerve as his breath gets hotter and heavier against her skin. They are so absorbed by the coil tightening in her belly, her release building and building -

“AUSTON!” Ema howls, absolutely horrified.

Nothing would get Auston to stop. Nothing, except his mother would get him to stop.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@jakekisska@partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout@lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey

#Too Far Gone #Auston Matthews #Auston Matthews fic #Auston Matthews smut #NHL Smut #Too Far Gone Fic #too far gone #auston matthews imagine #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #Auston Matthews OC #TFG #hockey fanfiction #auston matthews!dad fic #hockey fanfic #nhl fic

[prettytoxicrevolver]

"i was sort’ve hoping you needed me.  is that selfish? " and Mitch Marner is trying to comfort the reader after he heard they were upset about something

You never missed a game.

Unless it was absolutely necessary, or the game wasn’t at home, no matter what, Mitch could always count on the fact that if he needed a pick me up he could spot his best friend wearing his number in the stands with a smile on their face and an encouraging thumbs up to quickly follow.

So, when Mitch spends the better part of the game against the Islanders wondering where you are, he can’t even focus on the fact that this should have been an easy win. But the team loses 3-2 and he’s still thinking about you.

“What’s up?” Auston asks when Mitch bumps into the doorframe on the way into the locker room.

Auston spots the thousand yard stare from miles away and can’t help but feel concerned for his friend. He figured Mitch would respond with some answer about you and he worries what has happened between the two of you that has Mitch so distracted.

“(y/n) wasn’t at the game tonight,” Mitch replies and Auston tilts his head in confusion.

“And?”

“She never misses a game, Aus.”

Auston leaves it at that, knowing Mitch won’t change his mind for anything. Even though Auston could see there were probably a million reasons that weren’t life threatening to make you miss the game.

However, Mitch has never been good at thinking straight when it comes to you. You were his best friend. His girl. His world. He needed to make sure you were okay before anything else.

So, that’s how Mitch finds himself sitting in front of your apartment door and ringing the bell obnoxiously like he paid rent. Inwardly, Mitch was panicking. He had no idea what he would find when the door opened and that’s what scares him. He needed you to be okay. And if you weren’t, he needed to be there for you whether you wanted it or not.

“Mitch?” you question when you swing the door open to find your very anxious best friend standing there.

Mitch doesn’t say a word, he dives towards you, wrapping you up tight in his arms and carrying you further into your apartment after shutting the door behind him. He sets you down on the ground but keeps his firm grip around your waist as he explains.

“You didn’t come to the game,” he states like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh I,” you start, trying to think of a reason to explain but fail. It suddenly occurs to you that just because you missed one home game with no explanation that warranted so much anxiety on Mitch’s end that he had to come see you.

“That’s why you came?” you ask quietly.

“I was sort’ve hoping you needed me,” he murmurs awkwardly and your head jolts up to look at him. “Is that selfish?”

“Not selfish at all,” you respond and Mitch looks at you with hope in his eyes. “It’s sweet. And correct.”

Mitch smiles softly at you, hauling you back up and into his arms. He carries you until you’re sat in your bed with him by his side, ready to listen to anything you had to say.

#mitch marner x y/n #mitch marner fanfic #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner x reader #mitch marner drabble #prettytoxicrevolver fic #toronto maple leafs x reader #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs x y/n

[jackhues]

Any chance you could write an imagine about taking care of Matthew Knies after his concussion? It would be so cute

he'll be okay - matthew knies

note: idk how i feel about this, but like it's not bad.

gif not mine!

"no phone," you reminded matthew.

"i know," he groaned.

you dimmed the lights in the tavares' basement, making sure there was nothing that would aggravate matthew's concussion.

after a hit that happened in the first period, he was taken out of the game. the medical team had him under concussion protocol for a few hours, before finally confirming it.

you'd driven matthew back to the tavares house, where you were going to stay with him for a few days to take care of him, and were now making sure there wasn't anything that would hurt him more.

after double checking everything, you began to unwrap your dinner that you didn't get a chance to eat before.

"oh that's bright," you heard matthew's voice from the room, causing you to rush over.

matthew stood in the doorway, scrunching his face up and looking away.

"what's wrong?" you asked. "are you okay? do you need something?"

"no, no," matthew put a hand up. "i'm fine. the room's just really bright. but that's okay, i was just startled."

you bit your cheek, "you sure? you don't need anything?"

"i'm sure," he promised, giving you a smile.

you stood in the doorway, making sure matthew made his way to the bed without falling in the dark. once you were sure he didn't fall on his face, you closed the door behind you, returning to the living room to finish your dinner.

you finished eating your dinner, looking up at the sound of a knock.

john stood in the staircase, "how's he now? did they diagnose it?"

you nodded, "yeah, it's a concussion. they're saying it's minor for now, but because it's a head injury, he's not allowed to do anything or it might get worse. he went to sleep now, so hopefully the rest helps."

john sighed, running a hand down his face.

you understood his frustration perfectly.

"concussions get worse before they get better," he reminded you. "if he gets worse tomorrow, if you need help, tell me. i'm just upstairs... and, y/n. he'll be okay."

you smiled, "thanks."

he nodded, heading back upstairs.

you sighed to yourself, looking at the room where matthew was sleeping.

"he'll be okay," you agreed.

-

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

join my main taglist!

#naqia writes! #matthew knies #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies imagines #matthew knies blurb #matthew knies x reader #matthew knies blurbs #matthew knies fic #matthew knies fics #matthew knies fanfic #matthew knies oneshot #toronto maple leafs x reader #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl one shot #nhl imagine #nhl edit #nhl fic #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey #hockey boys #hockey blurb

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Distance and the Time Between Us

A/N: So this is my attempt at writing my very first series involving William Nylander.

Overall, it is more or less a “right place, right person, wrong time” type of storyline.  The fem reader grew up outside of Toronto and is gifted in all things music.  She’s had world-wide success as part of a band as well as a stellar solo career.  She’s been bestowed with absolute (perfect) pitch and has been categorized as one of the best singers/musician/songwriters of recent time.

Where it was suitable, I have tried to be accurate with various facts but I will at certain points be changing reality around to aid in the story.  I guess that’s the beauty of fiction; you can snap your fingers and make it so, no matter what it is.

Not to sound like I’m accepting an Ocscar, but I wanted to thank @leafs-lover and @spine-buster for interacting so kindly with me as a newcomer to this space, and for reading through the first iterations of my thoughts blurted out onto the page.   

Not to beat this to death, but I’m still figuring out Tumblr so hopefully I won’t make a giant mess of things as I post each new segment.  

Warnings - allusions to sex, swearing, end of a relationship, I think that’s it

Word Count - 3.8k

----------------------

September, 2021

The end of the evening hits differently than you thought it would.  

A few hours ago, up on the bandshell stage with your bandmates, Brandon (the guitarist, alongside you, and vocals), announced to the audience that you and the band were taking a step back from performing, recording and touring.  For the past decade (give or take), the band that you co-founded with Brandon had achieved remarkable success along with fame and fortune.  You all had far exceeded the low expectations that many had when you began your music careers together. 

And it was time….in fact, it was very much overdue.  

Personal lives are albeit neglected in order to reach this pinnacle of stardom and for once, you all mutually agreed that it was time to give up the rigours of a touring band and enjoy life. After all, for all that’s been sacrificed, you all deserved it.  

The other members, Maebh (bass, vocals) and Colin (drum, vocals), together had their blossoming family to look forward to.  Brandon and his partner wanted to pursue other musical interests.  There was a sense of excitement, and relief, leaving behind the pressure-cooker lifestyle that your lives had become. 

And then there was you.

In one sense, you had been dreaming of this moment for years.  Almost complete freedom from all the commitments from both your explosive solo career, and the band from which you emerged.  Until now, it had always been one more appearance, one more record, one more song, one more tour, one more interview, one more movie - year after year after year.  On the surface, you were one of the most successful and sought-after musical artists of the past 10 years.  Coupled with your band’s success, your individual success had been nothing short of magical.  The drive and determination you possessed, alongside a bit of luck and (mostly) sensibility propelled you up to and through the insanity of stardom.  You always made sure you kept grounded and were full of gratitude, always keeping your humility intact. You had become, in the eyes of the entertainment world, the epitome of grace and etiquette under such scrutiny and pressure.  

On the flipside, you have been grappling with an overwhelming sense of despair and an ache deep within that you can almost taste since the moment the band made its decision.  

Now that this last performance was in the books (and it was an incredibly successful one at that), you sit in the backseat with your sullen thoughts as your driver navigates the SUV towards your Toronto home.  You glance over to your manager, Evelyn, and choke back a sob - your throat constricts and you bite your lip to try and will back the tears that threaten to fall.  

Evelyn's typical stoic demeanour softens for a moment, and she grabs your hand; she's well aware of what has gotten you in this state.  

You return to staring out the window; your mind replaying what you’ve sacrificed for your career and the fear of the unknown with your future.

The reality is that it's not what you've sacrificed, but whom.

It was when you saw William in the crowd tonight, surrounded by peers, teammates and countless beautiful women, the pit in your stomach formed.  You weren't prepared to see him and God, he looked better than anyone should ever be allowed to.

The pit grew as you saw him singing along to the songs sung by your voice.

It grew even more as you saw his eyes fixed on you perform alongside some NHL players and other hockey notables in attendance who came up on stage to sing their favourite songs with you - clearly fueled by the liquid courage that was in abundance at the event.

The pit became virtually unbearable as you saw him laughing and dancing with a beautiful girl that was not looking like anything plutonic.  At least not in the way she was clinging onto him.

It was no small feat to get through the rest of the night, performing and interacting with the crowd as effortlessly as you did.  Trying not to focus on the thought of him being close enough to breathe the same air as you.  If you glanced his way, you forced yourself to dismiss the idea that he was often stealing glances back at you, or the notion that perhaps he might still want you as much as you clearly still wanted him. You became a master at suppressing your feelings in the past and tonight was no exception.

It had been almost two years since you last saw or heard from William.  

At the start of September of 2019, you and William found yourselves yet again in a familiar place in life; William beginning another hockey season, single, after he and his girlfriend had parted ways during the summer and you returning to your home town of Toronto to visit loved-ones after a summer of festival performances and travelling.  

Your calendar was full with invitations to many high profile events in the city and your attendance always drew quite a crowd. As usual, you were attending all of the events alone which seemed to be mercilessly pointed out by every entertainment news correspondent that lined the red carpet.  William would catch a glimpse of you on TV as they showed you arriving at a film festival party or an exclusive restaurant, and soon thereafter, you'd receive a notification from him on your phone.

That is how it always started; a few sweet and flirty text messages, then a couple of phone calls and not long after, you and William would be tangled in the sheets of either your luxurious Toronto home or at his hi-rise condo that boasted an incredible view of the city.  It was such a natural and easy existence when you were together.  As overly sugary as it might sound to most, your insides felt like there were beams of sunshine that would radiate through your body from the sheer sight of him.  Somehow, you always felt calm and at peace in his presence.

Simply put, it always felt incredible spending time with him and it always brought out the best of you.  You felt happy and it was very apparent William felt that way too.

However, true to the pattern of the past few years, you would need to leave again, having to depart mid-way through October for an unknown period of time.  You had several performances booked throughout Europe, Asia, and Australia followed by more exclusive appearances for royalty and dignitaries around the world.  Leaving William throughout the years under these same circumstances only became increasingly difficult, leaving you both heart-sick for a time afterward.  Eventually you both would bounce back and resume life without too many broken-hearted thoughts about each other swirling around in your heads.  

You and he had often discussed trying a long-distance relationship, only for you to hold firm on your initial refusal.  You had always maintained it was not fair to him to have no say or input on when you could see one another.  You felt it was too much to ask someone as young as him to have to stand by and watch everyone around him celebrate with their significant others, or be consoled by them, while he has to go it alone.  He deserved to be in a relationship where both people were utterly devoted to one another; you desperately wanted to be that person but your contract obligations just kept stacking up against you and those circumstances were out of your control.

Once you had returned to London, sitting alone in the new opulent townhome you had just bought in Knightsbridge, you had made the decision on a dreary November evening in 2019, that it was time you fought for what you wanted; the man you had fallen in love with.  

Calculating the time difference, it was nearing dinner time in Toronto on William’s day off.  Barely able to contain your excitement, you sent William a text asking him to call you.  It wasn't long before your phone rang and the familiar picture of his jersey appeared on the screen.  Your excitement quickly dissipated once you answered; it was clear from his low, soft tone that this call was not going to be a happy one.  

Before even getting to your reason for wanting to talk, you had asked if he was ok.  He paused for a torturously long period of time and said he was not.  He explained that it had become too much for him after these past few years to be on this rollercoaster of being lovers (mostly secret lovers at that), for such short moments in time, only to have to watch you leave again and again and never being certain when you’d return.  He wanted to be able to give all of himself to another and up until that point, he had quietly kept a part of his heart solely for you.  To pour salt into an open wound, he finally added that the level of celebrity you had reached was not something he felt he could handle as the pressure of being inevitably thrust into an even bigger spotlight is not what he wanted in a relationship. 

An extreme ache travelled through your body.  You felt blindsided.  Perhaps it wasn't for the reasons that William rhymed off for wanting to essentially sever ties with you, but more that you had finally succumbed to your deep feelings of love for him and now it was too late.  Your heart completely shattered from his words as the visions of your future with him disintegrated into nothingness. 

William quietly apologized, his voice barely above a whisper. He said he had to go and hung up, never giving your brain a chance to catch up or for your voice to speak.

Once the call ended, the friendship you had with him ended.  In your mind, he became an apparition - nothing more than a figment of your imagination.  

The many memories that you had of the two of you together became too much to bear and with that, you clicked into total self-preservation mode.  You no longer followed him or his siblings on any social platform.  Aside from a select few, you limited your interactions with the Maple Leafs, many of whom you had become friends with over the years along with their significant others.  You wouldn’t watch game highlights or check scores - you untethered yourself from anything to do with William.

It was not long after that painful conversation that you heard William and a previous on-again/off-again girlfriend were back together.  It was exactly what you expected, which was of little comfort.  The heartache you felt was profound and rather than giving yourself time to grieve or heal or whatever you needed to do, you allowed the loss of his existence in your life to harden you.  Save from your close friendships and your family, you no longer cared about the love aspect of a normal human life.  

Between rehearsals for your tour, you threw yourself into writing music; sitting for hours on end in your state of the art recording studio on the lower level of your home. Up until that point, you had a massive catalogue of songs that, at the very least, uplifted people.  The message of your songs had now transitioned to loss.  The record execs salivated with each song you presented - dollar bills in their eyes  given the huge music market for words rife with longing and regret.  Even the accompanying music you created held the same vibe; music that would make the hardest person want to weep.  As time went on, your songs were released under the guise of other popular singers.  The releases were wildly successful which further catapulted your reputation into the stratosphere, being deemed as one of the most talented songwriters in current time.  With all the notoriety, you found it difficult to embrace the new heights in popularity and monetary gain, given that it was all based on the inner turmoil of someone that felt as broken as you did.

There was a domino effect with shutting down the pleasure side of life; your once effervescent personality was replaced with forced smiles and you were noticeably disengaged in conversation.  The change in your demeanour didn’t go unnoticed with your circle of friends. Forever begging you to come out before you departed on the first leg of your tour, your friends tried to rally around you, nearly breaking down the double doors to your home to let them in.  

Even the rare times you relented and allowed them to drag you to all the exclusive clubs that dotted London’s Soho and other districts close by, you ended up drinking little and leaving early.  

Despite how you felt, you always looked exquisite, dressing in elegant attire that perfectly accentuated your shapely figure, and hair and makeup that were magazine worthy.  Other than writing and recording music, dressing up was one of the few things that surprisingly made you feel better, even if it was for a fleeting moment.  

The good feelings were often chased away as a result of the jeers and catcalling which inevitably started from the snobby and ill-mannered men that occupied space at each club.  What these men had in money, from their aristocratic lineage or otherwise, they lacked in every trait you valued.  If it didn’t make you feel ill first, it made you seethe with rage with their greasy, vulgar, drunken comments about what they would do to you if they got you alone.  After berating them for their tastelessness, and saying apologetic goodbyes to your friends, you would leave to go home.  The rage that coursed through your body would then dial down to frustration which would then lead to a pit of sadness.  

Washing the night off in your oversized bathtub, you started to sob.  Tears streamed down your face forming tributaries along your cheeks to your jawline before dissolving in the hot bath water.  You missed William totally and completely.  His friendship.  His laugh.  His face.  His touch. The way he felt under you or on top of you.  The way he looked so disheveled when he’d first wake up.  The taste of his tongue against yours. When he teased you of how badly you suck at every video game you tried.  The list of things you missed about William felt endless.  You were certain, more than ever now, if you were to ever try to love again, you would have to settle for someone that was a distant second to him.  That thought broke you even more.   

As the days leading to the end of 2019 grew shorter, and weather more miserable, your mood and thoughts about William changed, seemingly adopting the climate that surrounded you.  You started to convince yourself that perhaps the feelings you and he shared weren’t really real; perhaps he had been wheeling you since you met.  Your thoughts continued to darken when you realized you were likely nothing more to him than just a convenience when he was in between relationships; he used you like a disposable girlfriend…once you would leave for your next project, he was totally free to move on to someone else.  For all you knew, maybe you were amongst a string of girls he was wheeling.  It would not be unheard of.

More and more you pieced the puzzle of your own design together. He couldn’t have loved you -  even though he admitted that he did when you were in his arms last.  Once you had whispered the same to him, it was like floodgates opening with the words “I love you” that flowed effortlessly between you.  You told each other every chance you had during that last blip of time together.  

You resumed the previous thought.  He couldn’t have loved you to only turn around and cut you off the way he did, a mere month later.  

Once the tour began, the moment came when you all but discarded the loving feelings you once had for William and forced out the amazing memories.  You continued to captivate audiences around the world with your powerful songs and incredible voice. Images and videos of you being celebrated for your beauty and elegance were in continuous rotation on every social media platform.  Leading up to award season, your name was on repeat for several music award nominations. You graced a number of red carpet events and attended after parties, always looking ravishing as you engaged in chats with interviewers and stopped to take pictures with other celebrities and onlookers.

Your mind snapped back to reality as the SUV pulled up to and through the security gate of your sprawling Toronto home.  You thanked the driver and Evelyn politely asked him to wait for her, and you and Evelyn disappeared into the house.

You stood in the front foyer for a moment, soaking in the fact that this is where you’ll be hanging your hat, both literally and figuratively, until you decide where you truly want to be.  As beautiful of a house as you had here in this city, you knew it would take a lot more than an exquisite interior to make it feel like a home.  All you wanted was for your home to be filled with love and laughter and family and friends.  

“Why don’t you just head straight to bed…you look like you’re ready to collapse” Evelyn said, picking up your small suitcase and walking toward your master bedroom on the main floor.  

You ran your hands gently over your face, trying to stimulate enough alertness to respond.

“Very good idea…God, I’m just beyond.  I think I may end up sleeping for 2 days straight” you said. 

The adrenaline that surges through your body during your performances is a feeling like no other, but you knew the downside to that was utter exhaustion after the fact. 

The welcome sight of your large California King bed took hold, and you immediately stripped down to your bra and panties, and slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, pulling the overstuffed duvet up over your shoulders.  Evelyn continued bringing in a few more of your belongings into the bedroom, all the while, you could already feel yourself sinking into the mattress and the urge to sleep was taking hold.

“Thank you Evelyn…for everything.  I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to see you almost every day”.  Your eyes welled up with tears, your throat tight with emotion.  

“I’m going to LA, not Mars…all you need to do is call.  You just remember - we made an incredible team, and that was just as much you as it was me.  Evelyn paused.  “You have been such a gift to my life.”  and she leaned over to kiss the top of your head.    

“Call me soon and let me know how it’s going with your new act” you yawned, and started to drift off.

“Do you want me to turn your phone off?” Knowing the answer already, she didn’t wait for a response….you had fallen asleep already anyway.

Evelyn grabs your phone from the charger and sees text notifications on the lock screen.

Knowing your passcode, she bypasses the biometric prompt and the home screen appears.

Evelyn realized your phone had been on do not disturb for quite some time.  She taps the message icon and sees a familiar name as the sender.

The first text is short, sent earlier that night.

Hey - it’s William Hoping to get a chance to talk when you have a min

Then there’s a second text sent a little while after the first:

Are you still here?

Then lastly:

K - well.  I hope you’re staying in TO for a bit.  Would like to see you.

Evelyn looks over at you, sound asleep, and considers the options.

Ignore the messages, turn off your phone and leave it for you to decide on how to handle it once you’ve got some rest.

Text William back on your behalf to at least let him know you’re home and to try back in a day or two

Wake you up to show you the messages.

Given your current peaceful resting state, and knowing you like virtually no other, Evelyn is aware that waking you up now would only unleash a rabid and maniacal beast - and she wanted no part in that.

Just as she considers shutting the phone off, the words “Incoming Call” appear with “Ny88” underneath.

Evelyn stares at the caller for a moment and then picks up.  

“Hello, Y/N’s phone”

“Um - Hi…this is William, a friend of Y/N.  I was trying to get a hold of her for a couple of hours…I was just, uh…worried”.  William’s voice trails off

“Hi William, it’s Evelyn…not sure if you remember me; we met a few years ago.  Y/N’s back home now - sorry, she had her phone on do not disturb. Not sure why.” Evelyn confesses.  “But she was knackered and is asleep now….I think you know the drill with her after she comes off after a concert” Evelyn laughs.

“Oh, right - yes…hey Evelyn.  Yeah - I remember…she’s down for the count afterwards” William chuckles.  “Well, I was hoping to bump into her tonight after the show but it seems like she was surrounded the entire time.” 

Evelyn paused, unsure of exactly how much she should convey to William.

“I know it’s been awhile; she would have liked to have seen you, I’m sure.”

There was further silence, and remembering she had a flight to catch, Evelyn tried to speed up the conversation.  “Do you want me to leave her a message for her to call you when she wakes up?

“Fuck…that'll be days” William muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing Evelyn may have heard.  “Sorry…shit…scratch that, '' he said nervously.  "I…I just really was hoping to see her or talk with her tonight, but I guess that's not possible" he said, defeated.

Evelyn looks down at you sleeping.  She recalls the car ride home, you flushed and wrought with emotion as the memories you suppressed of William came flooding back.  She watched you during the intermissions of tonight's performance hiding away in the dressing area, trying to keep your shit together after seeing William in the crowd.  She had seen you at your highest highs over the years when you and William were able to spend time together and at your lowest low after he ended it. 

You finally have the time now, she thought - so it's go time…now or fucking never.

"I've got to catch a flight, so I'm leaving straight away.  If I give you the security codes to get in, I can trust you that she'll be in good hands, right William?" Evelyn paused before finishing with "Because so help me God William, if I hear of anything to the contrary, you do not want to see my other side."

“I’m leaving now” William says with a rushed tone and hangs up before Evelyn has a chance to respond.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagine #hockey fic #rock star #musician #right person wrong time #angst #fanfic #nhl fanfiction

[willyismybicycle]

Title: this lust is a burden wee both share [1,751 words] (Part 4 of the earth, the sky, the sea) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Auston Matthews/Mitch Marner Tags: Blow Jobs, Blood and Injury, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Crying, Wet & Messy, Rough Oral Sex, slight Bloodplay, slight degradation, Auston is a little mean and Mitch loves it, Top Auston Matthews, Bottom Mitch Marner A/N: Someone PLEASE stop me, jfc

Summary: November 28, 2023: Mitch takes a puck to the jaw and has to get stitches. He still wants to suck Auston’s dick though.

“Please? Miss your cock,” Mitch whispers, slowly sliding off the couch to settle on his knees. “Mitch…”

Written for my talented pal @mxaether, who I've dragged into this hellhole with me.

READ BELOW OR HERE ON AO3.

“Jesus,” Auston mutters as he tilts Mitch’s head up and looks at the laceration from more angles than Mitch thinks is strictly necessary. It’s giving off “photographer for Vogue” vibes, while he models his big, stupid, stitches for Auston. 

“S’not that bad,” he says, trying to bat Auston’s hand away. 

“Your face literally has stitches in it,” Auston replies, sounding about as impressed as Mitch thought he’d be (which is: not at all). 

“Yeah but it’s fine,” Mitch tries again, squirming to get out of Auston’s hold. 

“Sit still,” Auston growls and, well fuck if Mitch doesn’t go a little boneless. The response is built into him, he can’t help it. He’s fucking Pavlov’s dog or whatever, okay? 

“What are you, a doctor or somethin’? C’mon, Tone,” Mitch pleads, fidgeting again. “Knock it off.”

“Stop being stubborn,” Auston chides. “I’m getting you some ice.”

“Auston, it’s fine.”

Auston raises an eyebrow at the use of his full first name, since Mitch hasn’t called him that in literally forever. 

“Honest,” Mitch vows, making an exaggerated cross over his heart. “Can’t even feel it.”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause they shot you up with fucking lidocaine!”

“Okay, and?! It’s perfect! It means I can still suck your dick toni—” 

“Don’t even finish that sentence, what the fuck Mitch. We are not.”

Mitch pouts, which he thinks shows off just how perfectly fine his jaw is. “Please?” 

Auston opens his mouth and — 

Mitch tries his best to smother his creeping grin, tries to keep looking innocent and pouty because Auston’s such a sucker for begging. Or pouting. Or just, in general, dominating someone who’s submitting so willingly.

(Which he is).

(So, so willingly).

“Please? Miss your cock,” Mitch whispers, slowly sliding off the couch to settle on his knees.

“Mitch…” 

Auston’s warning tone is definitely lacking its usual baritone, so Mitch keeps going. His hands slide up the fucking tree trunks that Auston calls thighs, and digs his fingers into the muscle, moaning already. Auston’s body is such a fucking gift. He can’t believe he gets to indulge in it everyday. 

“Yes?” Mitch asks, feigning innocence, giving his best doe eyes. Settling in comfortably, he runs his palms along the inside of Auston’s thighs, gently prying them apart. 

A shiver runs up his spine when Auston’s legs fall open for him — he knows he couldn’t move Auston one goddamn inch if he tried. This is Auston letting him. 

Auston letting him tug those shorts and briefs down, letting him nuzzle his face against Auston’s cock.

“Fuck,” is all Auston can say. But the way he says it — like it’s his last dying breath, like it’s the only word he knows, like he can’t possibly say anything else to get the point across? 

Fuck is right. 

Auston’s dick is beautiful and Mitch knows that most people don’t describe dicks as pretty or beautiful, but they’ve never seen Auston’s. It’s as thick as the fucking rest of him. Solid. Hefty. He loves when it’s nestled in the crevice between Auston’s groin and thigh as much as when it stands tall and proud like it is now. 

“Hell yes,” he says more to himself than Auston, taking the cock in his hand and giving it a few small strokes before licking up the entire length of it. He swipes his tongue back and forth as he makes his way from base to tip, spreading his spit as he goes. 

“Fuck, Mitch, I — are you sure?” Auston asks, his voice getting more and more breathless as Mitch continues. 

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” Mitch says flippantly before going back to enjoying himself. He lets his tongue circle around the head of Auston’s cock, his hand gently pulling the foreskin back. 

“Shit,” Auston breathes out. Mitch watches Auston’s abs contract, watches the way his forearm muscles twitch with the effort of staying at his side. If he wasn’t already sucking dick, his mouth would be watering. 

The next time he dips his tongue in, softly prodding at the slit, he can taste the slight bitterness of Auston’s precome building up and he can’t help but stick his free hand down his pants. He’s so fucking hard — has been ever since Auston first grabbed his face, first dug his fingers into the space under his chin just close enough to the injury to make it throb. Just like his cock. 

He keeps his mouth open, tongue pressed down by the weight of Auston’s cock. Does his wound twinge a bit? Sure, maybe. But does he fucking love that sweet little sharp graze of pain? Yes. Very yes. Now he just has to make Auston keep going.  

–

Mitch looks like a fucking dream, and Auston hates how much he loves it. He doesn’t like seeing Mitch hurt. He doesn’t. 

But — 

Sometimes, when Mitch is bratty enough, when Mitch pushes Auston’s patience and gets spanked for it, Auston can’t help admiring the blossoming of blood and the way Mitch’s ass feels hot. Like a pile of cinder waiting for Auston’s hand to strike again and bring the flame back to life. 

Sometimes, when Mitch asks, Auston’s open palm will connect with Mitch’s cheek and Mitch turns the same shade of pink it gets when Auston whispers in his ear during a game. Telling him all the things Auston’s going to do once the game is over.

Sometimes, when they’re so goddamn impatient and they can’t wait to get home, they just have to hope the water from the shower is enough. Or Mitch will spit on Auston’s cock and Auston will spit on Mitch’s hole and then Auston has to keep a hand clamped over Mitch’s mouth anyway. Not that he wants to. The noise Mitch makes when it’s almost too much to handle is exquisite. A stifled screech that sounds like it’s tearing his throat up, a noise that should make Auston stop and ask if Mitch is okay, but instead he just drives in harder. 

So yeah, sometimes, Auston just can’t help the fact that Mitch looks so good when he’s in pain, sounds so good when he’s hurting.

Like right now, when he can tell that Mitch is straining even more than usual, that his jaw is open wide and willing, it’s so hot — but he can’t stop looking at the stitches as they get tugged and pulled. 

“Mitch, baby, you — stop, you gotta stop,” he tries, even though his hips traitorously thrust towards that tight, sweet warmth. 

“Nnnnngg,” Mitch groans, his throat constricting around Auston’s cock. It’s even worse with Mitch’s body bouncing lightly with his own masturbating. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Auston exhales, stretching it out for as long as Mitch takes to seal his lips around the base of his cock and pull off slowly. 

“Cmon,” Mitch rasps. “Don’t lie to me, I know you want it, and I want it, so what’s the problem?”

“Your stitches, you fucking ass, that’s the problem.” Frustrated by Mitch’s defiance, he pokes at Mitch’s cheek above the injury, hoping to emphasize his point. 

Instead, Mitch moans and it’s not just a moan, like “mmm that’s yummy”, it’s a moan. Like “fuck, that’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted and I will die right here on the spot if I don’t have more”. One of those. 

It’s fucking filthy. 

And then Mitch tries to swallow Auston’s dick whole.

“You — fucking slut,” Auston grumbles, hand tangling in Mitch’s short hair. Fine. That’s how Mitch wants it? Fine. 

“Mmmhmmmm,” Mitch hums, the vibration travelling up Auston’s entire cock. 

Auston tugs Mitch’s head down further, gagging him just like Auston knows he wants. “What’s the matter? Suddenly can’t handle it after you fuckin’ beg for it?”

Mitch’s moans reach a new octave, like he’s enjoying it. Because he is. And Auston can’t have that, can he now? 

He brings his other hand to Mitch’s neck, thumb pressed against the racing pulse, pressed against his own cock buried in Mitch’s throat. 

And now Mitch starts to lose it a bit — the tears that have been building finally spilling out the corner of his eyes, the smug look shattering.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Auston goads, snapping his hips up, keeping Mitch firmly in place. “Jesus, Mitchy, you’re making a fucking mess.” 

It’s a combination of drool and precome, with Mitch’s jaw a little slack, his choking and coughing forcing spittle to leak from the corners of his mouth. He watches Mitch’s normally clear blue eyes grow dark and glassy, and he can’t hold himself back either. Mitch’s mouth feels far too good, like it was made specifically as a place for Auston to dump his come. 

“Fucking come, then,” Auston orders, his thumb sliding up Mitch’s neck to the delicate patch of stitches. The lidocaine has probably worn off by now, at least a little bit, so Auston presses just below it.

When Mitch whimpers loudly, Auston keeps going. He cups Mitch’s face in his large hands, smears the drool with his palms and the tears with his thumbs. 

And then he fucks Mitch’s mouth like his life depends on it. It’s so goddamm wet. Every time he thrusts up, the slap of his balls against Mitch’s chin is loud and lewd, joining the sounds of Mitch’s gurgles every time he hits the back of Mitch’s throat. 

He can feel Mitch’s orgasm through his own cock — the squirming, the tightening of Mitch’s throat, the hot exhale through Mitch’s nose that warms the spot right below his treasure trail. 

His palms are so warm and so wet. Heated by Mitch’s cheek, dampened by more tears and now a little blood. 

He comes down Mitch’s inviting throat, thighs tensed so hard he might’ve cracked Mitch’s skull if his own hands weren’t placed where they are. “Fuck, take it —”

Mitch hollows his cheeks and takes like he’s told. He swallows and bobs his head slowly, rubbing into Auston’s hands. 

When he finally pulls off, the last of spit and come dribbles down and starts cooling against Auston’s balls while he looks down at Mitch. 

He should feel guiltier about the small bit of blood smeared across one side of Mitch’s face, but the stitches are still in tact and Mitch looks like he’s fucking soaring. 

Shaking his head with a small smile, he tugs Mitch up into lap. “You’re fucking nuts,” he mutters. 

“Mm, you love it,” Mitch says, curling up like a cat in Auston’s arms. 

Mitch is right though — he does. He really, really does. 

#auston matthews #mitch marner #auston matthews/mitch marner #marnthews #1634 #toronto maple leafs #nhl fic #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #auston matthews fanfic #mitch marner fanfic

[mattybraps10]

Roommates | Joseph Woll x OC

Summary: Jane Cambell is Mitchell Marner's best friend, and when he asks her to let the rookie goalie stay in her guest room, who is she to say no?

Word Count: 1704

By: M

Mitch and I had grown up next door to one another. There wasn’t a birthday party, school event, or family function where we weren’t together. We were inseparable. So, when Mitch got drafted to the Leafs, it made sense for me to follow him and attend the University of Toronto. I loved being around the team and doing homework at practices. I was thrilled to interview Mitch for my final papers, to spend time with him again. Once I graduated, I went on to work for the team, Mitch and I stayed close. When Mitch met Steph, I was overjoyed. She was perfect for him, but it left me with more time to myself. Something I didn’t understand what to do with. I found myself wandering aimlessly after work, never having plans. 

When Mitch told me the team had called up a new goalie, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Since he had recently moved in with Steph, he had asked me if the new guy could use my spare room until he got on his feet. I, of course, said yes. Mitch had always been a great judge of character and if he felt comfortable letting him stay with me, then I felt comfortable. What I didn't expect, however, was for this man to come through the door with lego boxes stacked above his head. And like… goalies are tall, but I couldn’t even see his face.

“Hey! Thanks for letting me crash, let me just set these down in the room and we can properly introduce ourselves…” He said, his voice muffled by the many boxes in front of him.

“Oh yeah of course, um it's the door to the left of the TV.” I replied, stepping aside so he could walk in. It took him about five minutes to set the boxes how he wanted them, the echo of fallen boxes and muttered curse words heard throughout the apartment. 

“Can you help me grab my bags? I don’t really have that much stuff yet… I mean I’m not really new to Toronto but I just lived with teammates when I was on the Marlies so like…” He said, rambling on as he stepped back into the main room. His blue eyes caught mine and he quickly lost whatever thought he was about to share. Like seriously are piercing blue eyes mandatory to be on the Leafs? Because, wow.

“I’m Joseph… Uh Woll… yeah. But I mean most people call me Joe haha…” He said, his left hand scratching the back of his neck and holding his other out awkwardly.

“Jane, but my friends call me Janie.” We shook hands. Joe and I found our rhythm easily. He would leave before I got up in the morning and I would meet him at the office for lunch before going to meetings. We’d head home together on off-days, laughing about anything and everything. I felt like that missing piece I’d been searching for had been found.

The hard-part was always away games. Joe and Mitch would spend weeks away, traveling for games whilst I was left in a mostly empty office, planning future events and booking flights. When the boys are away Steph and I usually grab dinner and talk, but I was hesitant to have to answer questions about my relationship with Joe. He and I had gotten increasingly close and several of his teammates had picked up on some of the underlying tension on my end. It was clear to me, at least, that Joe wasn’t interested in me, despite what Kniesy kept saying. Kniesy and Joe are pretty close, but I can’t help but feel like he’s just messing with me. Plus, I mean I don’t even know what Mitch would do about me dating a teammate of his. I mean he was always protective growing up, purposefully keeping me from his teams. The one time I did go out with someone from his team, we realized we’d be better off as friends, which is how I ended up with Matthew Tkachuk as my fantasy football teammate. 

I decided to go to dinner with Steph anyway, as I wanted to catch up with her. When I sat down across from her at the restaurant, my phone started buzzing. I mouthed, “hold on” to Steph as I stood up and answered the phone.

“This is Jane Campbell speaking…”

“No I know, Janie it’s me, I- I just needed to hear your voice” The voice on the phone, Joe, said clearly out of breath.

“Joe what’s going on? Are you okay?” I started panicking, why was he calling me. He never calls.

“It’s. I’m fine. I just- Did you see the game?” I hadn’t. I was so busy getting ready to see Steph and finishing work, that I’d completely forgotten to tune in.

“No- I- Tell me what’s happening.” I felt like screaming, what wasn’t he telling me? The walls felt like they were closing in.

“It’s Kniesy.” Two words that first had me breathing a sigh of relief and then feeling guilty as the walls crashed in once again.

“Okay,” I took a breath, “okay. What do you need from me? What happened? I’m with Steph. Do you need me to get there?” 

“Just stay on the phone please. He’s. He just collapsed. I mean the hit didn’t look that bad but I guess it was? I- I don’t know Janie. I don’t know.” A sob erupted from him as he tried to keep himself composed. Where was the game again? I could have sworn I’d written it down somewhere… I looked through my bag, dumping the contents on the table in front of a concerned Steph.

“Are you still there?” His voice almost whispers, having been wrecked by his sobs.

“Yeah, I’m here Joey. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” The nickname escaped me before I even knew I was saying it. Shit.

“Joey?” His quiet voice still shaking.

“I- I mean…”

“No- I- Uh- I like it- It just caught me off guard that’s all.” His smile was clear even through the phone.

“Okay wait- The game’s in Buffalo right? Let me just… I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? What hotel are you in?” I blurted out, before I could even process what I was saying. All I know is that Joey needs me and I want to- no, have to- be there. 

“You don’t have to come, I mean it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” He rushed, trying to convince me not to go, but it was too late.

“See you in a bit Joey, bye.” I quickly said, trying to hang up.

“I L-” I hung up.

“Okay Steph, I gotta go. I- uh- I’m so sorry, I’ll venmo you for the salad.” I said, grabbing my coat from the back of my chair and shoveling everything back into my bag.

“Is everything okay?” Steph said, panicking.

“Yeah, Joe’s worried about Matthew, apparently he got hurt during the game. I’m just gonna fly out to Buffalo to be with him.”

“You and Joseph, huh?” She said, winking, “I mean I told Mitch y’all were a good match, but he didn’t think it would happen this quickly…”

“Oh- Um. No, we’re not together. I mean- I don’t think he even likes me like that… Not that I like him or anything.”

“Mhm, and he called his ‘platonic roommate’ for comfort when his best friend got hurt, and, said ‘platonic roommate’ is flying to another country to check on him… Okay!”

“That’s exactly what’s happening. Plus, New York is barely another country.”

“Sure… Sure. Have a nice flight Janie.”

“Thanks.”

The flight went quicker than I expected. I sat in my seat, my knee bouncing as I waited to see Joe. I was still unsure of what happened to Matthew, but if Joe was worried, so was I. The little pest had started to grow on me.

I rushed into Joe’s hotel, asking the front desk to let me through. Joe had let them know I’d be coming and to let me in. When I got to his door, I took a breath before knocking.

“Janie, thank god.” He said, opening the door and scooping me into a big hug.

“I’m here Joey, I’m here.” He stiffened at the nickname as he released me. 

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Nothing… I- I just like when you call me Joey, that’s all.” He said, letting me into his room. 

“How’s Matthew?” I asked, grabbing his hand for moral support.

“The doctor said he’ll be okay, just a concussion. It just really scared me, you know? I mean one moment we were laughing about him asking a girl out, and the next he’s on the ice.”

“A girl?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.

“Yeah, I mean it feels silly now but he wants to ask the barista at the coffee shop by the rink for dinner.” He smiled, squeezing my hand.

“That’s such a good idea omg! Not silly at all, I mean she’s really pretty and nice.”

“It just got me thinking, you know? Like what if he wasn’t okay? What if he never got to tell the girl? It feels so trivial to worry about rejection at this point.”

“But he will get to tell her Joey. And she’ll say yes and it’ll be great and they’ll be together!” I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I’m doing my best to reassure him that Kniesy and the Barista will get together in the end.

“Will they?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

“Of course, if they’re meant for eachother, it’ll happen.” I smiled, looking up at him, my hand still in his.

“Will we?” He asks.

“Will we do what?” I ask, confused.

“Will we get together?” He asks and my stomach flutters. 

“Joey?” I feel like I’m hallucinating there’s no way he means what I think he means.

“Jane. Janie. I love you. Every moment we’re apart is like I'm drowning and you’re my air.” He grabs my face, angling my eyes up to his.

“Joey… I love you too.” I closed my eyes as our lips met, fireworks erupting as the butterflies dissipated from my stomach.

#joseph woll #joe woll #joseph woll fanfic #hockey fanfic #toronto maple leafs #mitch marner #steph la chance

[miracleonice87]

onward.

a kyle dubas fic

- - -

a/n: first and foremost, best of luck to kyle and his irl, non-fictional family! the leafs made the wrongggg decision imo, BUT.. come to pittsburgh, kd!!! anyways, turns out I write for kyle dubas now, apparently. this idea popped into my head after the news broke, and I went from “ope I started a kyle fic” to “ope I finished a kyle fic” reallll quick! fully fictional feminine reader insert format, based on the real events of the last week. obviously didn’t want to use the names or ages (adjusted after the preview I posted) of kyle’s actual kids with a reader insert, so those are also fictional! 

word count: ~2,500

warnings: sad kyle dubas, brendan shanahan slander (deserved), angst with a hint of fluff and a hopeful (though I wouldn’t say happy) ending, mention of pregnancy / children, alcohol, references to anxiety and coping mechanisms

- - -

Friday, May 19, 2023 - Dubas House - Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Your heart sunk to your stomach as you heard the garage door open and then close, sending your household into a familiar frenzy. Your husband texted you 99.9% of the time when he was heading home from the rink, mostly to notify you that he’d soon be there for “backup,” as he sometimes even jokingly put into writing. Today you’d received no such text. 

Your six-year-old golden retriever Duke, named for the Marlies mascot, of course, and gifted to you by Kyle upon your engagement, let out a couple of excited barks before running to the inside door to the garage to greet his lifelong companion, whimpering all the while; his trusty sidekick, nine-month-old husky pup Blue, rescued from the Toronto Humane Society and named for your son’s favorite cartoon character as well as the team color that adorned nearly every inch of your home, followed his lead, their tails wagging as they awaited the arrival of their favorite parent; and, the most excited of all, four-year-old Hunter zoomed around the corner exclaiming “daddy’s home!” while eighteen-month-old Harper toddled behind him as fast as her chubby little legs would allow, squealing and clapping while babbling “dada, dada, dada!” again and again.

You wished you could share in their excitement as you normally would, but your own anticipation had a much different tone today. As you heard the car door close, you scooped Harper up in your arms and brushed back her soft, dark hair, just like her dad’s, and began to bounce her in place in the middle of the kitchen, waiting for Kyle to appear in the doorway. 

Seconds later, he did. From his energy alone, you sensed that the meeting with Brendan at the Ford Performance Centre in Etobicoke had not gone the way you’d both hoped. Your intuition was confirmed when, in the midst of nuzzling the dogs’ heads and bending down to press a kiss to Hunter’s, Kyle’s eyes met yours and he gave a quick, subtle shake of his head. Tears sprung to your eyes and you pressed your free hand flat to your chest, rubbing back and forth in an attempt to keep yourself calm. 

Meanwhile, Hunter was regaling Kyle with the details of his mini sticks practice earlier, with you in goal while Harper had been down for her nap. 

“And I made thirty-four shots on net, Daddy! Thirty-four! That’s Auston’s number!” Hunter exclaimed. 

Your mouth went dry at the reference, your gaze falling to your feet as you tried to just keep breathing. 

Kyle did his best to appear unfazed in front of his adoring son. “Sure is! That is awesome, Bubba,” he lauded, smiling as he offered his fist for Hunter to bump. Your favorite thing about your husband – whatever was going on in his work world paled in importance when compared to what happened at home with you and his children (and his dog children). He wasted no time in closing the gap between himself and you, and you delivered the eager, antsy toddler in your arms to her dad’s waiting hands. 

“Hi, baby girl,” he cooed at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, just as he did each day upon arriving home. 

With your arms now free, you rested your hands on your hips and turned to look out the kitchen window at the idyllic, suburban Toronto view you’d enjoyed for the last five years.

Until now. 

Now, it would all change. 

Behind you, Kyle pressed three last quick kisses to Harper’s temple before putting her down on the tile floor next to her big brother. 

“Hunt man, can you take your sister to play mini sticks in the living room, please? Mama and I will be in in just a couple minutes,” Kyle said, his tone impressively even. 

Hunter immediately obliged, running back down the hall before stopping on a dime and dropping to the hardwood floor with arms outstretched, as if sliding into home plate, calling out to and encouraging his wobbly sister to follow him, as she always did even without being told. 

Meanwhile, you braced yourself, literally and figuratively, against the kitchen counter, still gazing out the window at nothing in particular. 

Just admiring the view while you still had it. 

As your kids’ happy-go-lucky voices faded into background noise, you heard Kyle approach you slowly from behind, felt his hands settle on your hips. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and breathed in your familiar scent, grounding both you and himself, before he did anything else. 

“Okay, sweetheart, listen,” he began calmly, coming cheek-to-cheek with you as he sighed deeply, looking out the window himself. “Before I explain everything, I need you to take some deep breaths, alright? Because if you’re stressed out, that means baby’s stressed out, and that is the last thing we need right now.” 

You nodded once, then followed his instructions, letting your head rest back against his shoulder, his hands moving forward to tenderly cradle your ever-rounding, seven-months-pregnant belly. 

In, two, three, four. 

You had discussed this. You had prepared for this.

Hold, two, three, four.

You had always known this was a possibility. 

Out, two, three, four.

Kyle had other options. Plenty of them. 

Hold, two, three, four.

He was also lucky enough that he could take some time off if he really wanted to.

In, two, three, four. 

But you knew he didn’t really want to. 

Hold, two, three, four.

Hell, you didn’t really want him to, either.

Out, two, three, four.

He was built to manage a professional sports team. Not to be a stay-at-home dad. 

Hold, two, three, four.

No matter how helpful having an extra pair of hands at home might be.

In, two, three, four.

Especially with baby number three on the way.

Hold, two, three, four.

Oh, god… it was really going to end like this… 

Out, two, three, four.

…with your third child on the way.

Hold, two, three, four.

Holy shit. You had never imagined it would end like this.

While you certainly didn’t feel as relaxed as you typically did after your breathing exercises, your husband seemed satisfied enough that you had obliged him, praising you with a soft, “good girl.” You turned in his embrace, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Honey… what the hell happened?” you asked quietly. 

It was Kyle’s turn to tip his head back and sigh. Once upright again, he turned away, pulled out a barstool from the nearby kitchen island and patted the cushion. 

“Come ‘ere, sit,” he said, firm but gentle. Once again, you obeyed, and he headed toward the fridge as he loosened his tie and tossed it onto the counter. 

Though you’d never speak it aloud, between the breathing exercises and the instructions to take a seat, you realized that Kyle was fully trying to “general manage” you in this situation, whether he recognized it or not. You felt lightheaded at the irony of that. 

In one swift motion, you watched him pull his phone from his jacket pocket, glance at the screen, power it off, and place it next to his tie, all while muttering unintelligible words of frustration, before swinging open the refrigerator door.

Another heavy sigh left his lips before he began to explain. “They didn’t like the counteroffer, which honestly is not super surprising to me,” Kyle said, grabbing a beer for himself and the water pitcher for you, unscrewing and refilling your Stanley cup (huh… also painfully ironic) on the island before placing it in front of you. He leaned forward against the island, opposite you, and took a long pull of his bottled Labatt before continuing. “What was surprising to me, though, is that when Brendan and I met, he informed me they now want to go in a completely different direction.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff, looking out the back door at the picturesque sunset, rubbing your forehead. Your worst fear, confirmed. It was Kyle’s close friend and mentor himself who had not only delivered the news but, seemingly, played a major role in the final decision. You closed your eyes, shaking your head repeatedly. 

How had things gone so horribly wrong so quickly?

“Oh, babe,” was all you could muster when you finally opened your eyes and faced him again, and your voice shook around even just those two syllables as tears blurred your vision. Kyle held out his hand, palm upturned, and you placed yours on top, allowing him to envelop it. 

“I know,” he said quietly. Because he did. He did know. He knew everything you’d normally say in this moment if it weren’t for the utter shock of this unlikely situation, compounded by the innumerable hormones coursing through your body this late in your pregnancy. He knew you’d rage about what an injustice this was after the decade Kyle had – no, all of you had – dedicated to this organization; about how disappointed and disgusted you were with Brendan, an emotion that felt so foreign to you to harbor about someone you had once held so dear, that simply the thought of it made you nauseous; about how you couldn’t even begin to imagine leaving Toronto but that you’d follow Kyle anywhere because he was your life, your everything. He knew it all, even though you couldn’t say any of it. In place of words, you finally allowed the tears to fall in the safety of this private, hidden moment with Kyle alone. 

“I know,” he repeated in a whisper as you began to cry harder, not letting go of your hand as he rushed around the corner of the island and came to stand directly in front of you. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Kyle gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest, his cheek resting atop your head as you clung to the cotton of his crisp white dress shirt. You allowed the compounding, swirling tsunami of emotions to finally crash over and have their way with you, with Kyle repeating a gentle “shh, shh, shh” every few moments, not in an attempt to quiet you, but simply to comfort you, to remind you he was there with you.

Even after your sobs had slowed, neither of you moved nor spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds remaining emanated from Hunter and Harper squawking and giggling together down the hall, which was a desperately needed reminder of the only two things – or three, to count the one yet to make their arrival – that mattered more to you than the man in whose arms you were currently enfolded. 

“What are you gonna do, babe?” you finally whispered. 

Kyle pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do,” he said, conviction and resolve returning to his voice as he massaged his hands up and down your aching back. “I’m gonna coach my beautiful son’s t-ball team full-time this summer, and probably take it just as seriously as I took my last job,” he began. “And I’m gonna go watch my beautiful little girl’s spring dance recital this Sunday, and we’re all gonna go out for ice cream afterward. And I’m gonna plant that vegetable garden you’ve been asking for for about a hundred years,” he promised, looking down to ensure he could watch your reaction to that. You closed your eyes contentedly and breathed a laugh, still tucked safely against his chest. “And I’m gonna be here every day to read books to our kids, and walk the dogs with them, and swim with them, and ride bikes with them.” You hummed appreciatively at the sweet, serene thought. “And, most importantly… I’m gonna spoil the hell out of my very beautiful, very pregnant wife, and make her tea every morning, and run her a bubble bath every night, and take her on a relaxing vacation, and make sure she has everything she needs before our beautiful new baby gets here in a couple months. And then… we’ll roll from here. Together. Just like we always have.” 

You sniffled, picking your head up to meet Kyle’s eyes. 

“How does that sound?” he asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting his thumb against your jaw. 

You nodded. “Sounds surprisingly good,” you replied with another sniffle. “But first… I think we should go cuddle up on the couch with each other and watch our beautiful kids play together in our living room.” 

Kyle offered a small smile, bending down to kiss you softly. He grabbed his beer in one hand, your hand in the other, and helped you off the stool. Before heading down the hallway, he halted. 

“I have no idea how I’m gonna tell Hunt,” he said, the determination in his voice from mere moments ago having given way to defeat. You realized that this pendulum would continue to swing for the foreseeable future. “He’s gonna be so crushed,” he added, heartbroken. You could tell that that specific thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now. 

You leaned in, pressing your chest to his, at least as much as your basketball-sized belly would allow, and snaked your hand beneath his jacket to smooth it along his back. 

“He will be,” you conceded, unable to provide any sugar-coated comfort for that fact. “But you don’t have to tell him yet, not if you’re not ready to. We can keep the TV off, we won’t play the car radio, he already can’t get to any sports news on the iPad. You just take the time you need, think about what you wanna say, and if it helps, we can tell him together,” you said reassuringly. 

Kyle looked down at you with equal awe and gratitude etched all over his face. 

“God, I love you. What would I ever do without you?” he asked rhetorically, smoothing the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either,” you echoed. “All I know is I’m glad you’re on my team, Kyle Dubas.” 

That earned a sincere smile from Kyle, and he tipped your face up to kiss you again. Then… 

“Daddy? Can you come in here? I wanna show you my between-the-legs shot!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle against Kyle’s lips. He broke away from your kiss, smiling, and grasped your hand once more. 

“Yeah, we’re comin’, Bubba.” 

- - -

Four Days Later… Tuesday, May 23, 2023

- - -

@/fakeleafsfanaccount: Kyle Dubas changing his Twitter bio has made me so sad but so proud at the same time :'))) :'(((

❤️ liked by @/kyledubas and @/youraccount on Twitter

#kyle dubas #dubas fic #my writing #toronto maple leafs #maple leafs #k.dubas #kyle dubas fic #kyle dubas fanfic #kyle dubas fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey rpf

[the-slapshot-series]

Welcome to the Slapshot Series!

Enter below ⬇️

To get you started here is how this series works. Each story is interconnected through the casts, knowing each other in some way, shape or form. Each book can be read as a stand alone, but after book 1, there will be spoilers through each book that will point to a chapter or event that had happened in a previous book. This won't affect the outcome of you reading the story you picked, but reading in order will help you understand some things within the story. (but the path you choose is totally up to you! Don't feel obligated to read about a player you don't like.) Below is the books in order of how I would read them based on the events that happen within each story. Main blog Masterlist

*** Loosely based around the song "God Made Airplanes" by Jason Aldean. Set in 2021***

Tyler Seguin thought he found the woman of his dreams. A perfect girl, a perfect engagement and the soon to be perfect wedding, he had everything down to a T. Or so he thought. Just a few short weeks before what was supposed to be the most perfect day of his life, turned into him booking a one way flight to Pittsburgh to spend the summer with his Best Friend and forget about his cheating ex fiancee. Wanting to shut out the world, his parents and most of his friends for the time being, Tyler find refuge with the only person who really seems to know the real him, Arabella Kerfoot, who plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins. While spending his summer hiding away, his best friend not so sneakily plays match maker with her childhood best friend, Quinn Canton. Sparks soon begin to fly, and a whirlwind summer romance takes hold of these two burnt out hearts. But when hockey starts back up, and old partners come back to burn them to ashes, can they withstand the distance between them, or will it be to much for them to handle?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Arabella Kerfoot is the younger sister of Alex Kerfoot and she one of the only female hockey player in the league. Ella as she likes to go by is the wild child of the family and also of the Pittsburgh Penguins. With a reputation of the "Wild Cinderella" Ella is the media's #1 target. Her best friend is Tyler Seguin, who had a bad reputation in Boston before going to Texas, so he understands her better then her own family and is trying to help work through her rebellious reputation. After a wild and not so pretty night out on the town Ella is quickly not the favorite anymore in Pitt and is soon traded to Toronto who is looking for a power forward with the speed and risky skill set she brings to the table. The catch: they need to fix her tarnished reputation before the Toronto media tears her apart. The solution: have her fake a relationship with Morgan Rielly to show she is determined to settle down and leave her wild Cinderella life behind, and make a fairytale lifestyle in Toronto instead. Only Ella wasn't planning on falling for the red haired man who offered the solution to her problems. With the media and her brother breathing down her neck to fix her past, her best friend telling her that a fake relationship will only hurt her and the man she never new she needed in front of her, she is about to ether live out a Hockey-Ella fairytale or an ultimate disaster.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

#morgan rielly #Morgan Rielly story #tyler seguin #Tyler Seguin story #Tyler Seguin fanfiction #Morgan Rielly fanfiction #dallas stars #toronto maple leafs #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl story #ice hockey fanfiction #Toronto Maple Leafs fanfiction #Dallas Stars Fanfiction #The Slapshot Series #freddie andersen #frederik andersen #freddie andersen fic #freddie Andersen fanfiction #carolina hurricanes #Carolina Hurricanes fic #nhl canes #nhl stars #nhl leafs #Carolina Hurricanes fanfiction #frederik andersen fic

[glasshouses-and-stones]

my ao3

Six Sentence Sunday; 7th of April, 2024

wip title: the system's breaking down by glasshouses_and_stones

fandom: Men's Hockey RPF

ship: Mitch Marner/Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome

●○●○●○●

Dylan narrows his eyes and pointedly looks towards Mitch's room.

"I just don't trust him."

Connor squeezes his hand and gives him the most reassuring smile he can. It does nothing.

"Give him a chance. He's not bad, really. You'll like him."

●○●○●○●

If you see this, and you want to participate, please do! Tag me in your posts for any fandom/ship. I'd love to read them :)

#hockey rpf #mitch marner #connor mcdavid #dylan strome #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #six sentence sunday #current wip #sunday six #fanfic #toronto maple leafs #edmonton oilers #washington capitals #dyl #that jesus guy #gay hockey #ao3 #hockey #writing

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - The Contract

A/N: Can't write part 55 to save my life 😭 but we have another unedited bonus chapter, giving you a little glimpse into their life in the future. If you're not reading the fic, don't worry this is a stand alone piece.

Warnings: Smut (p in v, creampie), dirty talk, swearing, mentions of drinking, not really edited

Series masterlist

Word Count: 3100

Tia tried not to give too much thought to Auston’s contract, the media and fans were doing enough of that.

She had enough going on in her life. Maddie had started to sleep through the night then she started teething. Taylour was wild and energetic, always busy with Felix, wanting to see Brody from down the street or Carter from his class, and still impartial to Maddie. He might have stopped asking “when is she leaving’ but he has shown no interest in his sibling, sometimes becoming frustrated when his parents are busy changing her diaper and need a minute before giving him attention.

Tia has read books, spent hours online reading blogs and stories from other moms in similar situations, trying everything to get them to bond without forcing it, and it’s just not working. She always saw herself with a big family, but more importantly a loving family, how can they be one when Taylour is generally disinterested in her? 

And if it’s not the kids, or Felix’s limp that sporadically appears for a few hours, it’s her line. She used TikTok to advertise and sales erupted. She found herself with a massive list of pending orders, stores in Montreal, Toronto, Brooklyn, and Scottsdale were reaching out to stock her pieces. Made with Grace expanded from a spare room with a sewing machine, to a studio space with a business manager, marketing manager and two additional seamstresses, but even then she doesn’t feel like she can keep up.

So, when Tia told people she didn’t really have time to stress over his contract, she wasn’t lying. It’s not to say they hadn’t talked about their future; they just hadn’t sat down and fully weighed out the options.

She told Auston she would follow him anywhere, that they’d be happy so long as they were together, and she meant every single word but Toronto is a part of her, a part of them, and it would break her to leave it all behind. It’s where both of their children were born, where Taylour learned to walk and talk, where Maddie will learn all those things, where they found each other but more importantly themselves.

Tia wanted Auston to be as objective as possible with his decision, but she knew she had to tell him of her preference.

“And right here.” Judd points to the line at the bottom of the page and Auston once again scribbles his signature. He then flips the final page over, then smiles.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Judd nods. “You are going to be a Maple Leaf for four more years.”

Auston did give some thought to free agency. There are a few teams that have the cap space to meet his needs, and those that don’t would likely move some parts to make it work. He had options, lots of options, but none of them would send him down York Street after practice, right past her studio. And if he didn’t drive past then studio then he couldn’t stop in and raid her snack drawer, lie about needing a button fixed just to sneak in a kiss or two, or just watch his wife hard at work. He wouldn’t be able to take Maddie and Felix on walks through the park where he first felt Tia come back to him, nor could he drive past his old condo where they finally said what they had been holding onto for so long. They couldn’t go to dinner at Beck’s and Camille’s condo, which is actually Tia’s old condo, and see the exact spot where he first held Taylour.

Toronto is home. That was the only reason he needed.

 “Tia and the family must be excited.”

“They will be.” Auston smiles wide and grabs at the beak of his hat to adjust it. “I decided to keep this from them, thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“It will be.” The two men move toward the door where Judd slips into his shoes. “Don’t celebrate too much,” he winks, then steps outside, leaving Auston alone.

He quickly whips his phone from his pocket and opens twitter. Without so much as a second thought he types up a tweet, his first tweet since March. The second he posts the tweet; he is sharing it on his Instagram then heads for the sliding door.

The Arizona heat blasts his face the second the door opens. Felix’s nails on the concrete are heard as he eagerly scurries over from the pool, leaving wet pawprints all over the patio. Auston crouches down and scratches him behind the ears and chuckles when his warm tongue presses to his cheek.

“I know, I’m excited too.” Auston grins, scratching the pups head. “Should we go tell them?” Felix’s tail wags faster and he lets out an excited yip. “Yeah? Let’s go.”

“Hey T.” Auston starts as he sits on the edge of the pool and dangles his feet in the water, Felix plops down beside him for more pets.

“Hey, how was your meeting?” Tia wades through the waist deep water with Maddie on her hip and makes her way to the edge. When Maddie sees Auston her tiny fists open and close, and some incoherent babbles come from her lips. “Is that Daddy?” Tia bounces her a few times before handing Maddie over to him.

“Hi princess.” Auston hooks his arms under her armpits, then brings her in close, peppering her with kisses, hoping to hear one of those giggles she had been letting out as of late. “Meeting was good.” Auston blows a raspberry to her stomach, laughing when her legs kick out.

“Daddy, watch!” Taylour stands at the edge of the pool with his toes hanging over. His arms go up above his head, and he jumps into the air and dives into the water. When he pops his head up a few seconds later, he spits out some water and smiles.

“Wow, you’re getting good at that.” Auston replies, adjusting the brim of Maddie’s bucket hat to fold up and be out of her eyes.

“You weren’t even watching; you were paying attention to Maddie.” Taylour protests.

“I can do both Taylour.” Auston informs him. “But why don’t you show me another one?”

“Fine.” Taylour rolls his eyes and starts swimming to the edge of the pool.

“Hopefully you gave Maddie less sass than him,” Auston jokes. This time he cradles Maddie in close and locks his gaze on Taylour as he positions himself at the pools edge to dive again.

“It’s not funny.” Tia mutters while clapping for Taylour when he pokes his head up after another dive.

“Your dives are great Taylour, arms are really straight.” Auston encourage him.

“Mhm.” He proudly smiles while treading water. “You want to play basketball?”

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get my bathing suit on.”

“Okay.” He swims over to the shallow end to retrieve the basketball, that catches Felix’s attention and he jumps in the pool, splashing the three of them, and starts to swim over to Taylour.

“His reaction is perfectly normal, he is adjusting, just at his own speed. You see Instagram?”

“When would I have seen Instagram?” Tia laughs.

Auston unlocks his phone and hands it to her, forcing her focus away from Taylour. Her forehead creases and lips purse as she scrolls through the posts, wondering what exactly she is supposed to be looking for. “Yeah, Mommy is silly, isn’t she?” Auston uses his baby voice to ask Maddie when she coos in his arms. Unable to wait any longer, he takes the phone back and clicks on his story.

She closes his story, then opens the Toronto Maple Leafs page and sees nothing. She searches Wasserman hockey, but again there is nothing, along with Sportsnet, TSN and ESPN. She keeps opening pages, trying to find confirmation of his somewhat cryptic post. Fed up, Auston snatches his phone back which brings her gaze to him.

“You re-signed?” She asks, in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Butterflies swarm her stomach. “Four years?” 

“Yeah.”

“And you broke the story before anyone else?”

“I was excited.” Auston shrugs, letting his smile grow even wider.

Tia puts her hand on either side of his thighs and pushes herself up. Beads of water roll over her breasts - larger than normal from breastfeeding - down over her stomach and baby weight she can’t seem to shake no matter how hard she tries. Once at eye level with him, Tia presses her lips to his, joyful tears clinging to the corners of her lashes. With Maddie in one hand, Auston brings his other to her hair, wet from the afternoon in the pool, and welcomes the kiss. It’s soft at first but slowly builds to more, his fingers tighten in her hair and her tongue move about his mouth. He can feel the relief wash over her body.

“I’m so happy.” She whispers, choking back tears. “I really wanted to stay.”

“I know.” Of course, he knew. “But you should have told me.”

“Everyone had opinions, I wanted you to make the best decision for your career.”

Auston runs his thumb along her jaw. “You’re the only opinion that matters to me.” 

**

Tia dressed herself in a flowy maroon dress with thick straps. It stopped right at her knee and had a slit that went a few inches up her thigh. She pulled her hair into a simple but stunning bun and managed to apply a little bit of make-up before Maddie woke up from her nap. She fed and changed her, then put Maddie in the newly released mauve coloured polka dot dress with ruffled sleeves along with the matching headband.

She wasn’t overly dressed up (that wasn’t an easy task with unexpected dinner plans and a five-month-old) but the second Auston saw his girls his breath was taken away. He kissed her, almost a little too hard and long, but pulled away then helped load the kids in the car.

They met his family at Modern Oyster Bar & Chophouse. Auston reserved part of the restaurant which provided privacy for their celebration. Tia and Auston kept their phones on silent and tucked away - everybody who knew them was texting to congratulate them, and they just wanted to enjoy the night. And tucked under his arm with cheeks sore from smiling, Tia was doing just that. 

“We’re staying in Toronto?” Taylour probes.

While he begs Tia to take him to every game (even road ones), plays hockey, will show Auston YouTube clips and basically lives and breathes the sport, trades and free agency is all very new to him. He doesn’t understand why Uncle Mike isn’t going to be in Toronto anymore, why he has pictures of Daddy and Uncle Freddie both wearing Leafs jerseys, yet Fred plays for another team, and he certainly doesn’t grasp that there was the potential for them to leave Toronto.

“You sure are.” Brian tells him, gently bouncing Maddie on his thigh, smiling as drool rolls down her chin.

“Maybe without that stress you two can plan your wedding.” Ema beams over her glass of wine.

Auston feels Tia’s body stiffen ever so slightly, but he just laughs. Since the day Auston told his mom he was going to propose Ema has been asking about wedding plans. Once Tia had said yes, she became relentless, never missing an opportunity to ask when the date will be. She understood why they didn’t plan it for last summer given the uncertainty COVID brought and kind of let up once they announced their pregnancy with Maddie, but on more than one occasion Ema brought up how there was months between Tia’s due date and the summer. When Tia and Auston told her they just wanted to enjoy this time as a family without the added stress of planning a wedding, she understood, then tried to get them to lock down a date in 2024.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Auston shrugs.

“Have you even looked at venues?” Brey asks, not in a curious way but a condescending and annoyed way.

She always has been skeptical of their “engagement.” Given her brother declared he was going to marry Tia after one date, FaceTimed with the family at least a dozen times while out shopping for rings because it had to be just right, blew up the family group chat making sure everyone knew not to say anything and to act normal so she wouldn’t suspect anything, then spent the entire day pacing and on the phone ensuring every single detail was perfect, she expected a very short engagement. So, when they reply “we’re not in a rush” anytime someone asks, accidentally call each other husband or wife only to backpedal and say something along the lines of ‘we live together and have kids, were basically married’ it didn’t make sense, and Brey is determined to get the truth out of them.

Auston drops his lips to Tia’s ear and whispers, “should we just tell them?”

Tia cranes her head and squeezes his hand under the table. “No.”

He gently kisses her. “You sure? Make this a lot easier?”

“Make what easier?” Brey cocks her head and narrows her gaze.

Tia and Auston smile at each other as she mindlessly spins the black metal ring on his index finger. The ring she put there over two years ago when they did get married less than 24 hours after getting engaged, because neither one of them wanted to wait. But because all their friends and family couldn’t be there, they kept it a secret. That’s why Tia doesn’t wear her wedding band outside the house (except when she forgets to take it off) and why Auston wears his wedding band is on the index finger and not the ring finger.

Auston turns to Brey with heat flaring behind his cheeks and playfully smirks. “Nothing.”

**

The kids went to his parents and Auston and Tia ubered home. One glass of wine lead to two, which lead to three, and that was where Tia stopped. Her tolerance had dropped since having Maddie and anymore would have made her a mess and Tia didn’t want to be a mess tonight (unless the mess was made from Auston’s cum).

It didn’t take long for them to get to bed, and it was even less time until his head was buried between her legs, greedily bringing orgasm after orgasm to her. When she finally made him stop because her legs were trembling and vision was turning white, Tia found herself on her knees, attempting to return the favour, but Auston didn’t let her finish. At the last second, he roughly grabbed her hair and brought her in for an incredibly sloppy kiss.

“Lie down.” Auston instructs her, nipping at her lower lip.

“No.” Tia breathes out before roughly pressing her lips to his.

“T -”

“I said no.” Tia repeats, then yelps when Auston spanks her.

“I signed the contract; I should get to decide how we celebrate.” His voice is thick and gravelly, as he tries to maintain control. 

“I gave birth to your children so if I say I’m not getting on my back…”Tia pushes away from him and sits on her heels. “I’m not getting on my back.” 

Auston shifts on the mattress, his shoulders cracking in the process. This dominant behaviour from his wife is new and relatively uncommon, but fuck does it ever turn him on.

In one quick motion Tia spins and puts her back to him with her knees on either side of his hips. Using her hand, she strokes his throbbing cock over her entrance, coating it in her slick. He grabs at her ass cheeks, the only thing he can, and they both moan when she fills herself with his length.

“Shit baby.” Auston chuckles. Tia starts to move, up and down on his cock, getting faster and faster while her ass bounces along with her.  “You feel so good.”

“You always fuck me so good.” Tia cries when Auston moves his hips.

“Isn’t that what a good husband should do?” He spanks her again then grunts as her pussy tightens around his cock. “Properly fuck their wife?” He thrusts upward, wincing as she claws at his thighs for support.

“Yes.” Tia whines. Auston slaps her ass one more time for good measure then grabs at her hips. He has no intentions of trying to control the pace, she is doing that just fine on her own, he just wants to touch her. He always wants to touch her.

“So, I’m just doing my job Mrs. Matthews.”

Tia’s walls pulsate around him. She loves when he calls her that almost as much as he loves saying it. She wishes they could announce it to the world, then she could legally change her name to match him and their children, even Felix has his last name. Most of the people in their lives would be so happy they wouldn’t even care about missing one of the biggest moments of their lives. Not Ema. She of course would be happy, but she would be disappointed to have been excluded and Tia she can’t live knowing she disappointed the only mother she’s ever had.

“Making sure my wife is taken care of.”

Tia flips her hair to look back at him over her shoulder and whispers in the most innocent of voices, “keep it up and I’m gonna ask you to put another baby in me.”

Auston lets out a shaky exhale, he loved watching Tia be pregnant.

He lifts his hips up, making her fall forward until she is gripping his knees for stability. “I’ll do it.” Auston smacks her ass once again, earning himself a loud, excited yelp. “You just tell me when.”

At this point, Tia didn’t know how Auston was keeping it together, she didn’t know how she was keeping it together. Every single thrust was perfectly placed, brushing up against her g-spot, nudging her closer and closer to her release. Her nails were carved into his thighs, sweat was rolling down her back, down his chest, the sounds coming from their lips were feral, animalistic, but they kept fucking.

He watches himself disappear inside her walls a few more times then grips her hips and holds her on his member, pouring his hot, sticky seed inside – just the way she likes. Her walls grasp and hug his cock, and she can’t help when her eyes see static.

It takes a few minutes for either one to move. There is a lot of panting and muttering of curse words, hands gingerly trailing over the others sticky skin. But when Tia finally finds the strength to lift herself off his now softened cock, Auston wraps his arms around her body and pins her tight to his chest.

“I love you T.” His voice is hoarse.

“I love you too, Aus.” 

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@jakekisska@partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout@lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey

#Too Far Gone #Auston Matthews #Auston Matthews fic #Auston Matthews smut #NHL Smut #Too Far Gone Fic #too far gone #auston matthews imagine #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #Auston Matthews OC #TFG #hockey fanfiction #auston matthews!dad fic #hockey fanfic #nhl fic

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Toronto Maple Leafs

How to Navigate:

❤ Heart = Fluff  ★ Star = Taylor Swift Song Fic  ⬥ Diamond = My Favorite Italics = No Work Posted Currently

Mitch Marner 

Breathe ★

Auston Matthews 

4 + 1

Matthew Knies 

William Nylander

#toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs x reader #Toronto maple leafs masterlist #mitch marner x y/n #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner fanfic #Mitch marner masterlist #auston matthews x y/n #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #Auston Matthews masterlist #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies x reader #matthew knies fic #Matthew knies masterlist #william nylander x reader #william nylander imagine #William Nylander masterlist #prettytoxicrevolver fic #prettytoxicrevolver masterlist

[pirates-against-heterosexuality]

Sitting in my Leafs shirt, watching Mighty Ducks, and writing On Thin Ice (rwrb NHL Au)

If you can't tell I miss hockey

#red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue fanfic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince #rwrb #henry x alex #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #toronto maple leafs

[mitchesbitches]

Mitch and Auston - Locker Room Series

Hey everyone, welcome to my very first series! I'm gonna do a little fanfic about our two favorite boys (Auston and Mitch, duh) and how they interact both on and off the ice ;) enjoy and lmk if you have any requests or suggestions!

The locker room is bustling with activity as the Toronto Maple Leafs players prepare for their next game. Mitch Marner, a charismatic and talented forward, sits at his locker, lacing up his skates. Auston Matthews, a strong and stoic player, approaches him.

Auston smirks. "Hey, Marner, you ready for tonight?"

Mitch looks up from his skates, his eyes lighting up when he sees Auston. He flashes a mischievous grin. "Always ready, Auston. You know me."

Auston leans casually against the locker beside Mitch, his eyes never leaving Mitch's face. "Oh, I know you, alright. You're always full of surprises."

Mitch raises an eyebrow, playfully feigning innocence. "Surprises? Me? I'm just a simple hockey player, Auston. What surprises could I possibly have in store for you?"

Auston smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, let's just say your puck handling skills aren't the only thing that catches my attention."

Mitch's cheeks turn a faint shade of pink as he meets Auston's gaze, his voice lowering playfully. "Are you talking about my passing game, Auston? I've been known to make some pretty sweet assists."

Auston leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not just the assists that get me, Mitch. It's the way you move on the ice, the way you outmaneuver opponents. You have a certain... finesse."

Mitch's heart skips a beat, and he can't help but return Auston's flirtatious energy. "Finesse, huh? I guess I could say the same about you, Auston. The way you handle that stick... it's impressive."

Auston chuckles, a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad you appreciate my stick handling skills, Mitch. But let's save the compliments for after the game, shall we?"

Their eyes lock, the playful banter laden with underlying tension. The locker room noise fades away as they become lost in the moment, the chemistry between them palpable.

Mitch smirks. "Oh, definitely. After the game, I'll make sure to give you a private performance."

Auston's lips curl into a seductive smile. "I'll hold you to that, Marner."

Just as their flirty exchange reaches its peak, their coach's voice booms across the locker room, snapping them back to reality.

"Alright, boys, enough chit-chat! It's time to hit the ice!"

Mitch and Auston share a knowing look before they straighten up, ready to focus on the game ahead. But the spark of their shared moment lingers, promising much more to come.

#mitch marner #mitch marner fanfic #mitch marner imagines #mitch marner one shots #auston matthews #auston matthews fanfic #auston x mitch #toronto maple leafs