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alilove1998 · 9 days

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must love dogs / andrei svechnikov

never heard a sadder voice than when you phone me. are you lonely? you said it's time for some renovations. time for conversation... enjoy the silence in your kitchen. been watering all these plants made of plastic and you think they'll grow.

/ or, the one where andrei tries to steal noah's dog.

word count: 20K pairing: andrei svechnikov x OFC warnings: 18+ smut below the cut; MDNI; thigh riding; language, mentions of a lost dog, poorly translated russian for the aesthetic; pure fluff with a little spice thrown in at the end; i wrote nearly this entire thing in the notes app on my phone while on a flight last week. shout out to the girl sitting next to me who very obviously read the entire thing over my shoulder. hope you enjoyed this one, too, girlie pop. sorry, i've been a bit slow with these. AM34 coming up next, and then i have a few more almost-finished fics sitting in my drafts i'm hoping to post soon. if you have a request/comment/feedback, let me know. xoxo

must love dogs / любовь к собакам обязательна

the fence / забор

Noah Locklear had grown up around animals her entire life.

Having been raised on a small farm outside of Cary, North Carolina, she had learned to walk holding on to the collar of the family's golden retriever, Daisy.

Throughout her childhood, she was usually surrounded by more animals than people—and Noah wouldn't have had that any other way. She could never imagine a life without a four-legged best friend by her side, and she knew that as soon as she had a home of her own, she had to get a dog of her own, too.

As soon as she graduated from NC State and moved into her first apartment, Noah signed her name up on a list at the local animal shelter as a new foster home. Her first litter of kittens arrived a few weeks later, and since then, her apartment had been a rotating door for kittens, puppies, and the occasional rabbit waiting to find their forever home.

Noah loved being a foster parent for the county's animal shelter. It allowed her to surround herself with pets that needed to be showered with some extra love, which Noah was eager to do. Her favorite part was being a part of their success story and witnessing when a family would come over to meet the once timid puppy and immediately cry out that they were the one as soon as their eyes met.

She liked the idea of fostering better than owning because her space was limited, and she wanted to help as many animals as possible. Her one-bedroom apartment offered enough space for one foster at a time. Seeing how many animals came through the rescue shelter each week, she felt guilty about ever adopting one of her own and having to remove herself from their list of available foster homes—especially when she knew how desperately the shelter needed more foster families than they currently had.

Finally feeling settled in her teaching job, now with a full-time kindergarten classroom, Noah moved from her tiny one-bedroom apartment in downtown Raleigh into her grandmother's old craftsman house in the North Hills. It had been in the family for decades but had been sitting empty for years and needed a little love. In desperate need of a total renovation, her dad had labeled it a money pit and was prepared to sell it at a loss just to get it off his hands. Noah had promised to complete the upgrades herself in return for her dad taking the family heirloom off the market.

Now, with a few hundred extra square feet, the shelter began assigning her bigger foster animals as they waited for their forever home.

Noah had made it almost two years before she threw all that to the wind and had her first foster fail.

And that was how Asparagus, or Gus for short, ended up in Noah's life.

Gus, a goofy and slightly cross-eyed Goldendoodle, was an escape artist. It wasn't his fault—he just had so much energy, and the family that had bought him from an expensive breeder because they thought doodles looked so cute online didn't know how much work the breed could sometimes be.

He was easily excitable and needed lots of exercise to channel that energy into. Unfortunately, the family, who had just moved to North Carolina and didn't have many friends or family nearby to help care for the rambunctious puppy, eventually had to give him up. He had run away one time too many and his original family decided he was more trouble than he was worth.

When Gus arrived on Noah's front porch with his tail wagging and tongue hanging out, the foster coordinator told her he had a reputation for chewing up shoes and bolting if a door or gate was left open. He was a brilliant dog but needed some refreshers on his basic training.

The coordinator thought a bilingual family might have raised him because he knew how to do simple commands but didn't always recognize the English prompts. He'd need a little bit of help to re-learn, but he had been showing quick progress since arriving at the shelter a few days before.

Noah instantly knew Gus was supposed to be hers.

They immediately fell into a routine, and Noah realized she couldn't give him up. A few days later, she signed the paperwork to officially become Gus's furever home.

He was just a dog to everyone else, but to Noah, Gus was the missing piece she didn't know she needed.

Not that Noah had ever felt like anything was missing from her life. Despite living alone in a house that was probably too big for one person, she had never considered her life lonely because she was surrounded by friends and family who loved her dearly. There had been a few boyfriends over the years, but never anything that lasted too long.

It was never a big dramatic blow-up, even when her college boyfriend decided they were better off as friends the week before graduation after almost three years together. Romantic relationships just always felt secondary to the other relationships she had in her life. They had always felt more like friends than soulmates, so she wasn't too upset when they would inevitably fizzle out.

Maybe Noah was partially to blame for her relationships never working out—if she went into them already believing they weren't anything special and would inevitably end, how could she ever expect a partner to think it would last?

So Noah stopped looking.

She would tell herself it would happen when it was supposed to happen. Just like how her older sister had met her husband when they both ordered the same overly complicated coffee at a new cafe and reached for the drink simultaneously. Or how her parents had met when her mom's car had broken down on the country road her dad delivered papers on during the summer when he was home from college for some extra money.

She liked to imagine that one day, Noah would sit next to a stranger on an airplane, strike up a conversation about the book they were both reading, and fall in love throughout the flight.

So when Gus showed up on her front porch, it felt like the fate she had been waiting for from the universe. It wasn't quite the love she pictured, but he was the only companion this fiercely independent girl would ever need.

Gus loved their morning runs together, always waking up precisely on time and bounding down the old oak staircase to where Noah kept his leash and collar by the front door. On weekdays, he'd go to doggy daycare for a few hours while Noah was at work so he could run around with his four-legged friends. And Noah learned to put her shoes and slippers away, out of reach of his curious nose.

But she needed a new fence.

Her grandmother's home backed onto the North Carolina woods. The thick greenery was a huge selling point for Noah, but the tall trees were overgrown, and the once pristine wooden fence along the backyard's property line was rotting and needed to be replaced.

With so many tasks on her fixer-upper to-do list, Noah thought adding one more item wouldn't kill her. The back fence had a small wooden gate, the lock having rusted off years ago. She was probably one strong gust of wind away from the gate and entire back fence panel coming down. So Noah ensured Gus was always supervised when outside and kept him away from the far back corner of the yard.

Eventually, Noah trekked down to Home Depot. Her doting father was on FaceTime to talk her through everything she needed to buy to replace the lock and patch the loose panels. He had told her he would come over and help but was in Dallas waiting for her older sister to have baby number three. He was on Grandpa duty, taking care of her sister's older kids while they waited for her to go into labor any day now.

But Noah didn't want to wait—she was stubborn like that.

It was just a fence; how hard could it be?

Noah had already broken a sweat just unloading the wood planks from her dad's old pick-up truck she had borrowed for this task. She thought about calling it a day and waiting for him to return to help, but when she saw Gus waiting for her in the window, loud barks echoing across the yard, she knew she owed it to him to give him a safe space to run around. Gus greeted her at the front door as she let herself inside. His favorite stuffed toy hung from his mouth and he jumped around her while she made her way into the living room.

He always did this when wound up and ready for a walk. And the clock above the brick fireplace told Noah it was nearing the time for his usual lunchtime walk. Dropping her keys onto the coffee table, she reached down to ruffle his fluffy head.

"I know, Gus," she cooed, scratching behind his ear. "We'll go on a walk in a minute, bud."

But the mention of the word walk had Gus immediately jumping around. His strong tail wagged in excitement, smacking the vase of fresh wildflowers Noah had picked up at the store a few days earlier right off the coffee table. The vase shattered on impact as it hit the floor, sending water and pieces of broken porcelain everywhere. She frantically shooed Gus out the back door before he stepped on anything so she could clean up the mess.

It was a wonky vase, anyway. Noah had made it herself at a pottery class she took with a friend from college, and the bottom wasn't totally level, so it was only a matter of time before it would teter over. She should have known better than to put it at tail-level with Gus around.

After sweeping up the mess and drying the floor the best she could, she opened the back door to let Gus back in.

But Gus was nowhere to be seen.

"Gus!" she called out but received no response. She whistled—something that usually brought him running no matter what he was doing. For the most part, Gus was a very smart and well-trained dog. He was also incredibly curious and maybe a bit too friendly, which got him in trouble.

She entered the muddy yard and followed his paw prints to the back fence. Her stomach dropped at the sight of the gaping hole in the fence. The rusted latches had finally given out, and the broken gate now lay flat on the ground.

Noah cautiously stepped over the fallen panels, calling Gus's name again as she stared into the woods behind her property. But all she could see was green, Gus and his trail of paw prints nowhere to be seen. It took her brain a moment to catch up to what was happening before Noah kicked into action. She scrambled back into her house, grabbing a raincoat and Gus's leash before she took off after him.

Noah hiked through the forest behind her house for what felt like hours. She shook a bag of Gus's favorite treats and called his name, but she was met with no barks from her usually very vocal Goldendoodle. She had wandered through every neighborhood, stopping every person she saw walking their dog to ask if they had seen him.

But her spirit dwindled as the sun set and the street lights came on.

Noah shouldn't have been that surprised; Gus had been brought to the shelter for this exact reason. But she thought she could rid him of his reputation for running away. He just loved exercise, which Noah tried to give him plenty of daily. They'd go for runs in the morning and a long walk to the pond every night, where he'd bark at ducks and chase frogs until he was ready to come back home and sleep.

She had only let him outside for a moment to clean up. Noah thought she was keeping him safe by sending him outside while she cleaned. She knew it needed to be repaired, and she had bought all the supplies today, but she had no idea the fence was in that bad state.

She would never have let him out unsupervised if she had known the latch had fallen off and the gate was broken.

Now, she couldn't find Gus, and he was probably out there somewhere, alone and scared—all because of her.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, coming to life with the obnoxious Super Mario Brothers ringtone she had programmed just for her father's calls. She thought about ignoring the call as she trekked across the soccer field of the neighborhood elementary school, still searching for any sign of Gus. Eventually, she fished the phone out of her pocket, harshly wiping away the tears that smeared across her cheeks as she answered the call.

"Hi, Daddy," she mumbled, trying to sniffle in a futile attempt to stop the waterfall of tears.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted. He kept his tone gentle, knowing how fragile Noah was at the moment.

Growing up in the South, Noah was a daddy's girl through and through. He had been her best friend her entire life; everyone always said she was his mini-me. And while she was close with her whole family, nothing could compare to their bond. She called him nearly every day to ask for advice or talk about how her day went.

He was usually only a short drive away, still living on the Locklear family farm in Cary. The fact that he was so far away when she needed him most made losing Gus feel even more devastating.

"Any update on Gus?" her dad asked.

She had texted him earlier when she first went looking for Gus—Noah had texted everyone she knew in the Raleigh Triangle. As they got the call, friends and family went out looking to try and find her beloved dog. Everyone was doing their part to try and find the Goldendoodle, but the escape artist was still yet to be spotted.

"No, nothin' yet," Noah answered, dejection obvious in her voice. "But I'm still out lookin'."

"It's late, Noah," he scolded. She could picture him frowning as he spoke, his thick, greying eyebrows furrowed in concern. It was the look he had every time Noah's fierce independence stressed him out. "You better not be out looking by yourself right now," he said.

"I'm not just going to stop looking for him," she bit back. "It's my fault he's gone anyway."

She heard her dad let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. He hated the idea of his youngest daughter wandering alone at night, but he knew how stubborn she was. She had picked that hard-headed trait up from him, after all.

"No update on Bailey and the baby yet," he said, settling for changing the subject instead. He figured an update on Noah's older sister might lighten up the mood and offer her something else to focus on. "Due date is still a week away, but the doctor thinks she could go any day now."

"That's good," Noah half-heartedly replied. Her attention was more focused on scanning the edge of the trees that lined the schoolyard, looking for any sight of Gus's golden fur.

She gasped as she heard a stick snap, spinning around to find the source of the noise. But all she saw was a squirrel scurrying away.

"I think you need to call it a night and head home," her dad's gentle voice said, pulling her focus back. "There's no sense both of you gettin' lost, Noah Jane."

She started to object, but he cut her off before she could stammer anything cohesive.

"You need a good night's rest," he continued. "Then you can carry on looking for him first thing in the morning. The rest will be good for you."

"I don't want to," she cried, a fresh wave of tears breaking through the floodgates. "He's all alone somewhere! He's probably so scared and cold, and—"

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart." Noah finally stood still, closing her eyes briefly. She followed her dad's instructions and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "You're not going to be any help to Gus if you don't take care of yourself."

She felt her breathing begin to even out, listening closely to her dad's calming words. Sometimes, all a girl needed was her dad.

She knew her older sister needed him more, preparing to deliver a baby. But Noah selfishly wished she had a shoulder to cry on or a co-pilot to drive her around every neighborhood in the state until Gus came home. She knew her dad would offer her both without hesitation if he weren't so far away.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "I'll head back home."

"We had dogs wander off the farm all the time, and they always found their way back home," he chuckled softly at the memory. "Put a bowl of his food outside with a favorite toy, and he'll follow the scent back home."

"I didn't even think of that," she groaned, picking up her pace as she turned around to head in the direction she had come from. "Maybe he's at home waiting for me."

"How far did you look?"

"I'm in, uh—" Noah paused to look around, trying to find a marker indicating what neighborhood she had ended up in. She had been walking for hours with no real sense of direction. "I think I'm by the country club."

"Jesus, Noah," her dad cursed. "That's way too far to walk at night. Call an Uber or something to take you back home."

"I will," she promised. "Thank you, I love you."

Barely waiting for a goodbye, Noah ended the call and promptly opened the Uber app. Now eager to get home to ensure Gus wasn't waiting impatiently on the porch for her to return, she requested the first car that came up to take her the nearly 20 minutes back home.

But as the car dropped her off at the end of her driveway, there was no sign of Gus. She quickly looked in the backyard, trying his usual favorite hang-out spots. No fresh prints were in the mud, letting her know he hadn't returned yet.

Following her dad's advice, she set out his favorite stuffed toy and a bowl of his food with a bit of Gus's favorite treat, shredded chicken, sprinkled on top for good measure. She said a silent prayer, hoping she'd wake up to his safe arrival home, before reluctantly going upstairs to her bedroom.

Gus's absence was even more apparent as she slipped under the cold sheets of her bed. He'd typically be curled up at her feet, acting as a snoring space heater. Noah usually complained about how much space such a small dog could take up in the King-sized bed, but tonight, it felt gaping and empty without his paws pressed against her.

Noah tossed and turned, unable to silence her worries and drift asleep. Tapping her phone for the hundredth time that night, she blinked at the bright screen as her eyes strained to read the time. The lock screen let her know she had no new notifications; the Gus search and rescue crew were fast asleep in their respective homes as the clock flashed 4:00 AM.

Admitting defeat, she kicked the covers off her legs and slipped out of bed. There was no chance she was getting any sleep tonight. Padding to the hall closet, she pulled the bin of excess school supplies off of the top shelf and carried it down to the living room. She figured she might as well channel her anxiety and frustration into something productive.

Dumping the bin onto the table, she sifted through the pile of markers and glitter. Ripping off a piece of colorful construction paper, she put together a missing dog poster, gluing a photo of Gus in the center as the finale. She'd hang them up around the neighborhood in the morning. Or maybe the entire city of Raleigh—whatever it took to get Gus home.

When the sun finally rose, Noah, still running on no sleep, waited in her driveway for her co-worker to arrive. Benji, who taught the kindergarten class across the hall, had promised to drive her around to extend the search for Gus outside the walking route Noah had covered yesterday.

He patiently helped her hang the homemade posters, driving her as far as the Wake County SPCA, where Gus had been adopted. Benji had recommended hanging a poster there in case someone had picked Gus up and brought him in as a stray. The staff there was sympathetic when she arrived, no stranger to Gus's runaway antics. They promised to call if he showed up, offering Noah a sad smile as she taped a glittery poster to the designated parking sign out front.

Eventually, Benji dropped Noah off at home, calling it a day. The sun was beginning to set, and she knew she didn't have much daylight remaining to search. Her energy levels were noticeably low, so she shuffled into her kitchen to grab something small to eat, hoping to get a second wind.

Surely, everyone would be furious if they knew she was about to trek through the woods at night alone again, but she wouldn't sleep until Gus was home.

Resting slumped against the kitchen counter, her eyes closed as she began to doze off still standing up. She was reheating some grilled chicken she had meal prepped a few days ago for school lunches.

There was nothing Gus loved more than chicken. No matter where he was, if he heard or caught a whiff of a container opening, he was at your feet instantly. Maybe part of her hoped the scent of the reheated chicken would reach him, and he'd wag his tail at the back door before the microwave was done.

But as the microwave beeped, there was still no sign of Gus through the glass-paned window of the back patio door.

Noah's phone chiming startled her back to consciousness, and she jumped at the sound. She fumbled for the phone, tapping on the screen to bring it back to life. She hoped it was some good news—either an update from a friend about Gus or a text from her dad about Bailey and the baby.

Her eyes scanned over the notification on her lock screen, a text from an unsaved 919 phone number waiting for her. She tapped the notification to open the new iMessage thread.

"Hey, I think I found your dog."

the visitor / посетитель

Gus had, quite literally, shown up at Andrei Svechnikov's house uninvited.

Andrei had left the back patio door open, letting the sunshine and fresh air flow into his kitchen. He had just mopped the white porcelain tile floors, letting the warm sun and cross breeze help dry the floor. It was something his teammates all thought was odd, especially from a single guy who was so young, but a clean house was a massive part of his game-day routine.

He had been like this his entire life—unable to relax in a messy environment. He needed the mental clarity that only a freshly cleaned house could bring to quiet his mind and focus on the game ahead. His mom had instilled it in him, taking the time to care for the environment around him.

His home's backyard backed onto the country club, offering picture-perfect greenery and the peace that only an expensive members-only golf course could provide. His yard was usually pretty quiet, so he often left the doors and windows open while he cleaned, letting the fresh air create a nice cross breeze. He had only been living here for less than a year, but in all that time, he had never had to worry about any wildlife wandering inside.

Andrei pulled his pre-game chicken and pasta from the microwave, having picked it up from the arena after his morning skate. He wasn't a great cook, so when his parents weren't in town, he relied heavily on the team-catered meals at the rink.

As he placed the plate onto the kitchen island countertop, Andrei was met with a fluffy set of brown eyes staring over the lip of the counter back at him. There sat Gus, coated in fresh mud, a trail of muddy paw prints leading from the open patio door to where the dog sat, begging for his chicken.

Andrei had always wanted a dog. He and his brother had begged their parents for one as kids, but they always said they moved too much, traveled for hockey too much—and dogs were just too expensive. They'd tell Andrei and Evgeny they could get a dog when they grew up and had a home of their own.

Now on his own and settled in Raleigh, Andrei had changed his tune after realizing hockey did force him to travel too much to care for a dog properly. His brother told him he needed a dog to keep him company, though. Evgeny claimed everyone needed some sort of companion and Andrei would go crazy living in such a big house all alone.

Andrei did feel the distance, no longer living in the same condo as his other young teammates. As quiet as it was, he was getting older and feeling like he needed to put roots down, so he had bought the country club house last year at the end of the season.

His mother, who often visited for month-long stretches to make the lengthy flight from Russia worth it, always offered to stay and care for a dog. As much as he loved her visits and missed her homecooked meals when she was gone, he'd much rather have her move into a house down the road to help look after a dog than move into his house permanently.

Or, as his mother often reminded him, he could get a girlfriend.

He could find a nice girl who could help care for a dog, watch over the house, "and maybe give me a few grandkids," she would add.

He'd roll his eyes every time, as if settling down was that easy and he had never thought of it. He wasn't one to openly admit it, but he thought about it a lot: how nice it would be not to come home from each game and road trip to an empty house. However, with such a demanding schedule, the NHL left him little to no time to try and meet someone.

He wasn't sure where to even start looking. How did he find someone who wanted him for him but still accepted all the baggage and travel that came with being a professional hockey player?

On the off chance the team had a night off, he'd head out to the bars with his other single teammates. But nothing ever clicked or felt like the beginning of something serious. Girls would say they didn't mind, that they supported his dreams and knew hockey came first, but when the novelty wore off and they realized just how unavailable he was every day, things would fizzle out quickly.

Not to mention the headache of finding an American girl who wouldn't want to follow him to Russia for the summer or meeting a Russian girl who didn't want to move to America for the season. Andrei didn't know what he was doing wrong to still be single while he watched all of his friends and teammates balance long-term relationships.

Evgeny, his older brother, had a serious girlfriend that the family adored. She was a lovely American girl he had been dating for years. And as hockey took his older brother back to Russia this season, Evgeny had been talking more and more about his plans to propose to her at the end of the year.

Andrei thought that would give his mother something else to focus on—a wedding and a new daughter-in-law to fawn over. And she did; she loved Madison. But it also fueled her campaign to get Andrei to settle down, too.

She had already mentioned some friend's neighbor's daughter who was single and would be the perfect date to take to Evgeny's wedding. He wanted to decline politely, but he'd take whatever he could get at this point, purely based on the fear that he would be alone for the rest of his life—or at least his hockey career.

Andrei needed to keep an open mind if he was ever going to find someone to settle down with. He wanted the whole thing: the dream girl, a gaggle of kids, and the beloved family dog.

He thought the girlfriend would be the first on this dream life vision board, but the excited Goldendoodle in his once-clean kitchen had other plans.

"Hey, Druzhok," Andrei laughed as Gus sniffed rapidly at the air, pushing his nose as close to the plate as he could reach. "Are you supposed to be here?"

Gus barked in confirmation, tail happily wagging. Oblivious to the chaos he had left in his wake and the sleep Noah was losing over his disappearance, Gus had followed the smell of chicken right into Andrei's kitchen. Unable to resist, Andrei tossed the pup a strip of the grilled chicken, Gus easily snapping it out of the air.

With that, Gus happily turned around, trotting back out the still-open door. He was enjoying his adventure, wandering off and barking at all the birds and squirrels Noah never let him chase. Andrei trailed after him, watching the dog take off back toward his neighbor's house. The yards were large, and the greenery from the golf course offered ample privacy, but there weren't any fences along the property lines, so animals would sometimes wander through.

Assuming Gus was his neighbor's dog headed home after his impromptu snack, Andrei shut the patio door. He sighed, looking at the muddy paw prints across the white floor. Andrei loved dogs, but this was part of the reason he didn't have one. He barely had enough time to keep his house clean, and now he had to mop up Gus's mess, too.

He quickly decided this would have to wait until after his pre-game nap. He had a schedule to stick to, which left little room for deep cleaning his kitchen floors again.

Andrei made it halfway up his staircase before he turned back around.

He'd never be able to sleep knowing this muddy mess was waiting downstairs on his just-cleaned floors.

When he got home from his game later that night, even more tired than usual from his shortened pre-game nap, Gus was waiting on Andrei's front step. The usually happy dog was shivering and whining quietly as Andrei approached. As he bent down to give his head a gentle scratch, Andrei noticed for the first time that Gus didn't have a collar.

If this was his neighbor's dog, why was he waiting huddled at Andrei's door instead of going home? Looking around to see if anyone was out looking for this mysterious dog, the rest of Andrei's street was quiet. It was late, well past when anyone would usually be out walking their dog, and he assumed he had to be out here on his own.

"Hey, Druzhok," Andrei greeted him cautiously. Gus gave another small whimper as he leaned into Andrei's touch. His heart ached at the gesture, and Andrei knew he couldn't leave this poor dog alone outside overnight. He had an early practice in the morning, but surely letting this dog inside for the night wouldn't hurt.

Andrei could already see the mud caked to the fur on Gus's legs in the dim porch light. He would need a bath before the entire inside of Andrei's house ended up like his kitchen floor did earlier that afternoon.

He put his key in the lock, pushed open the front door, and flicked on the lights in the foyer. As Andrei stepped inside, Gus quickly followed, taking off in a full sprint toward the kitchen.

Already seeing the trail of muddy paw prints forming, Andrei panicked and took off after the dog to catch him.

"Stop!" he called after him, Gus skidding to a halt at Andrei's booming voice. "Sidet," he ordered again, his panicked brain automatically switching back to Russian.

But to his surprise, Gus immediately sat.

Did this dog, who randomly showed up on his porch, speak Russian? Or was it just a coincidence? He knew dogs took most of their cues from the tone of your voice rather than the actual words, so maybe the volume with which Andrei yelled had Gus thinking he needed to stop and sit.

More focused on protecting the rest of his house from the mud and destruction Gus was sure to inflict, he'd wait to test his language theory later. He scooped Gus up, cringing as he knew his game-day suit would now need to be dropped off at the dry cleaner, and carried him upstairs to his bathroom.

Gus didn't put up a fight, allowing Andrei to place him into the bathtub. Andrei shrugged off his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before turning on the water. He waited for the water to warm up, knowing Gus probably needed a good bath after spending who knows how long wandering around outside in the cold, rainy weather.

For the most part, Gus was pretty cooperative. He let Andrei lather his fur, happily wagging his tail throughout the bath. It wasn't until Andrei stood up to retrieve a towel to dry off the dog when Gus took things into his own hands and violently shook to dry himself off. Andrei groaned, watching his all-white bathroom drip with wet dog water.

Maybe he wasn't cut out to be a dog owner after all.

But Andrei's annoyance faded as he dried Gus off. The freshly cleaned dog followed him down the hall into his bedroom, curling up at his feet in bed. As Gus rested his head on the fluffy duvet cover, Andrei's bedroom was filled with soft snores from the Goldendoodle.

The next morning, he woke up to the pup curled up by his side, his head resting on Andrei's chest. It wasn't quite how or when Andrei thought he would get a dog, but if the universe had other plans, he'd graciously let Gus into his life.

Andrei fed Gus some more chicken for breakfast before loading the Goldendoodle into his car to come with him to practice. Despite how well-behaved he was last night and how well he appeared to respond to Andrei's Russian commands, he wasn't sure how well he would react to being left home alone in a strange house for a few hours. Andrei imagined coming home to chewed-up shoes and torn-up couches and decided it would be safer to bring Gus with him.

He had teammates who always brought dogs to practice, and the team happily let dogs wander throughout the locker room. He stopped by the team store first, picking up a Carolina Hurricanes collar and leash—something he had no idea the store even sold—to help keep Gus under control during practice.

He dropped Gus off with one of the team's equipment staff, Carly, who was the go-to for babysitting the guys' dogs. He hurriedly explained Gus's situation before he rushed to the locker room to change, running dangerously close to being late onto the ice for practice.

As morning skate wrapped up, most guys filtered off the ice to work on stretches or visit the training staff for some rehab. Carly appeared on the bench, a happy Gus wiggling around in her arms. Andrei skated over to the bench, slipping off his glove to pet the top of Gus's fluffy head.

"Thanks for watching him," Andrei greeted, unable to fight the smile on his face as Gus barked happily at the pets.

"Oh, no problem," Carly laughed. "I love it when you guys bring your dogs in. And this guy was so well-behaved—you can bring him back any time."

"And who is this guy?" came Seth Jarvis's voice as he skated behind Andrei. He reached over the boards to grab a water bottle from the bench, downing a mouthful before squirting some down his neck to cool himself off post-practice. "Is this like a team dog or something?

"No, this is Svech's new pup," Carly answered, stepping closer to allow Seth to offer Gus a few quick belly rubs.

"Since when did you get a dog?" Seth asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Not that Andrei wasn't an animal guy—he loved it when they brought in puppies or kittens on media days—but this guy's house was spotless. There was no way he'd ever willingly bring an animal that could even potentially bring dirt into his home.

"Yesterday," Andrei shrugged, taking Gus into his arms as Carly unclipped the leash from his collar. Gus squirmed around in his arms, trying to get free. He was ready to run and burn off some energy, and the ice looked like the perfect place to break free.

"What's his name?" Seth asked, looking over at Andrei as he shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

"I, uh, I don't know," Andrei answered. The dog had been responding every time Andrei called him Buddy in Russian, but without a collar or dog tag, Andrei didn't actually know the dog's name. He could feel the skeptical look Seth was giving him, but he tried to shrug it off. "He showed up at my house last night," he clarified.

"So you stole a dog last night?" Seth laughed, dangling his gloved fingers above Gus's head as he tried to nip at his equipment.

"No," Andrei immediately snapped. "He was a stray. He was covered in mud and didn't even have a collar."

"I mean, he's pretty well trained," Carly added cautiously. "He probably belongs to someone who might be worried about where he is."

Andrei shrugged again, cradling the Goldendoodle closer to his chest. "I think I'm going to keep him," he dismissed. "He even speaks Russian!"

"He's a dog, Svechy," Seth deadpanned. "They don't speak anything."

"Fuck you," Andrei grumbled. "You know what I mean."

"I don't know how this works in Russia," Seth tried to keep his face neutral to appear serious, but the giggle in his voice gave him away. "But here, you can't just steal people's dogs."

"I didn't steal him," came Andrei's annoyed reply. He looked up at Carly for support, but she just weakly shrugged.

"Sounds a bit like you stole him," she said, biting her lip to smother the laugh that threatened to slip out as Seth waved his hands dramatically in victory.

Andrei leaned down to place Gus onto the ice carefully. As soon as his paws touched the icy surface, he took off toward the nearest puck. His legs slipped out from under him as he tried to get traction, landing with a light thud as he skidded into a pile of pucks a few feet away.

Rebounding quickly, Gus jumped up, biting at a puck and sprinting back toward Andrei to show off his new toy. Andrei grabbed his stick to dangle the puck around Gus's feet, which earned a happy bark from the dog.

"So what do I do?" Andrei asked as Gus tried to bite the blade of his stick. "Just let him go and hope his family finds him?"

"I don't know," Seth shrugged, earning an eye roll from Andrei. "But you can't just steal him."

"Again," Andrei practically growled, "I didn't steal him."

"You could bring him to the shelter," Carly offered, cutting off Seth as he opened his mouth with what was sure to be another unhelpful response.

Andrei frowned at Carly's suggestion, hoping the real answer here was he was already doing everything he could, and if Gus was happy, he might as well stay with Andrei.

"Not to stay," she quickly added in. "Just bring him by and see if anyone is looking for him."

Reluctantly, Andrei agreed. He didn't like the idea of giving up his newfound friend, but if a family out there were missing their dog, he'd feel guilty knowing he was the reason. He took his time getting off the ice that day, chasing pucks with Gus until the arena staff finally let him know they had to clear the ice.

Andrei reattached Gus's leash to his collar as the two walked out to his car, loading the now-tired pooch into the passenger seat. During the entire drive to the Wake County SPCA, Andrei silently hoped that the shelter would have no news and Gus could come home with him.

That hope quickly dwindled as he pulled into the parking spot directly outside the entrance. A homemade Missing Dog poster was taped to the pole in front of his car's hood. The poster was hard to miss, covered in glitter that sparkled in the sun. In the middle of the colorful poster was a photo of the dog snoring happily in his passenger seat. The name GUS was drawn under the photo in bubble letters.

"Well, Druzhok," Andrei sighed, glancing at the still-sleeping dog. "Looks like someone is missing you."

the reunion / воссоединение

As Noah pulled into the driveway of the country club address that Andrei had texted her, she wasn't sure what to expect.

The mystery savior who had found Gus was quick to respond to texts but came across as a bit cold in all of his messages. She didn't envision making a new best friend here, but she expected a bit more than the straight-to-the-point text exchange they had had that evening.

Andrei had let her know he had found Gus and saw the poster when he went to bring him to the SPCA. Since the shelter was closing soon, he had taken Gus back home so Noah could come over to pick him up tonight rather than wait until the shelter reopened in the morning.

All she wanted out of this interaction was to get her beloved dog back, so she wasn't going to be rude or pick a fight because his texts didn't feel as friendly as she would have been if the roles were reversed.

So when Noah knocked on the front door and the most gorgeous man she had ever seen answered, her brain immediately forgot how to function. Noah wasn't sure what she expected would be waiting for her, but it definitely wasn't this 6'2 model of a man.

Similarly, Andrei expected Noah to be some middle-aged dad picking up his young daughter's lost dog. He was a bit taken aback as he opened the door to the beautiful girl who had to have been about his age.

They took a moment to take in each other's appearance, Andrei completely forgetting his manners as he stared down at the most breathtaking girl he thought he had ever seen.

Noah's jaw must have been on the ground as her eyes raked over Andrei's solid frame. Dressed in a black long-sleeved henley with his hair pushed back under a white backward baseball cap, all Noah could focus on was the pronounced dimples carved into his cheeks as he smiled.

Maybe this beautiful stranger was friendly, she thought.

Coming barreling down the hallway, Gus broke both of them out of their momentary shock. He came skidding to a stop just in time at Noah's feet, jumping in circles around the young girl as he barked happily, tail wagging at light speed.

Selfishly, Andrei felt a bit jealous. He had enjoyed his day with Gus, and as excited as he always felt the dog was to see him, he had never had this reaction. As Noah bent down to greet the Goldendoodle, there was no denying this was Gus's person.

"You must be Noah?" Andrei was the first to break the silence between the pair.

Noah glanced up from where she was crouched in front of Gus, the dog still wiggling with excitement as he buried his face into her chest. Staring up at Andrei, her brain struggled to remember how to form coherent words.

He was tall, something made even more apparent from where Noah was kneeling on the floor. Tall, muscular, and mysterious—three of Noah's favorite things. As this beautiful stranger stared down at her with his brown eyes and dimpled smile, Noah shook her head to bring herself back to reality.

"Yeah," she smiled, nodding too enthusiastically. "Thank you for keepin' Gus here, safe."

"No problem." Andrei's smile widened, if possible, as he stared down at the stunning girl before him. Her voice sounded sweet, a hint of a southern accent that scratched the perfect itch as she spoke.

And then he remembered the childish poster he had found Noah's number on and took a small step back. He may have been expecting a dad to show up to claim the family dog when he heard Noah's name, but that didn't mean she didn't have a family waiting at home for her and Gus.

He also liked his nickname for the Goldendoodle better.

"Is this your daughter's dog?" he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans as he watched Noah slowly stand up.

"No," she shook her head, giggling under her breath as Gus jumped at her legs. "It's just me and Gus."

Andrei knit his eyebrows together as he thought, trying to put all the pieces together. Noah tried not to laugh, watching the gears in Andrei's head turn. Based on his thick Russian accent, she guessed he was trying to translate something in his head.

"So you made the posters?" he eventually asked.

Noah was proud of the posters she had made for Gus. She had spent more time than necessary making them perfect, adding glitter and stickers to help them stand out. She wanted to make sure the posters would catch everyone's eyes. Clearly, they had worked since that's where Andrei had told her he found her number.

She didn't love his tone as he asked about the posters, feeling like he was mocking her.

"What does that mean?" she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

"Nothing! I, uh, I liked the glitter and the stickers." Andrei threw his hands up in defense as he spoke, words tumbling out of his mouth quicker than his brain could keep up with. "It was a nice touch."

"I was stressed," Noah grumbled, nose scrunching as she glared at Andrei's mocking smile. "Making the posters was a good outlet."

"I know, I don't mean—" Andrei paused, adjusting his white backward hat to buy some time for his nerves to settle. The last thing he wanted to do was offend or upset Noah, and this didn't seem to be going very well. It had been a while since he had struck out with a girl this spectacularly. "I guess I was expecting some family with, like, a little girl to come to pick him up based on the posters."

Noah nodded, now self-conscious about the kindergarten-esque posters she had made and hung throughout the city. They had served their purpose of being eye-catching and bringing Gus home, but now she felt embarrassed about how childish they must have looked. "Well, it's just me. I'm sorry to disappoint," she mumbled.

"Definitely not a disappointment," Andrei shook his head. There was something about how his brown eyes seemed to sparkle under the light of the expensive chandelier hanging above them. There was a playful spark to his words, which made Noah feel a bit dizzy as he smiled at her again. "A good surprise," he continued.

Noah felt her stomach flip, her chest suddenly tight with the sensation of a flutter of butterflies. Was he flirting with her, or was she reading too far into this?

He had been nowhere near this friendly in their texts planning Gus's pick-up—but he had also thought Noah was a middle-aged father during that exchange. Had he known he was talking to Noah, he might have made more of an effort to warm up to her.

Noah chose to dismiss the thought of any flirtatious motive from Andrei because there was no way a man who looked like that would be interested in Noah in her currently frazzled state. She was suddenly aware of the bags under her eyes and that she hadn't combed her hair since Gus had disappeared yesterday. She probably didn't smell too great after chasing her missing dog for miles in the North Carolina humidity.

Wanting to shift the attention off herself, Noah glanced around the house, taking in the stark white walls and polished marble floors. Everything about this house was white and sparkling, something she was surprised to see Gus hadn't destroyed during his brief visit. She had a hard enough time keeping her old house clean with him around, and it wasn't nearly as white.

There were almost no decorations on the walls besides the occasional framed photo or hockey jersey. Everything seemed to feature hockey in some capacity, including Gus's new red collar with Carolina Hurricanes stitched across it, which he had not been wearing when she last saw him.

"Are you, like, a big Canes fan?" she asked, nodding toward the framed jersey hanging on the wall. She didn't recognize the name or number on it, but she also didn't know much about the team. The name on the jersey was clearly Russian, so maybe it was his favorite player based on their shared heritage.

Andrei tried to laugh politely, assuming she was mocking him for having his own memorabilia in his house. His teammates often did the same, saying he needed better decorations to make this place feel more like a home and less like a plastic surgeon's office. But Andrei liked the clean, almost minimalist, aesthetic. He didn't see the point in adding unnecessary clutter for the sake of decorations.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," he dismissed, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

When he glanced down at the collar he had picked up from the team store, he unexpectedly regretted putting it on her dog. He probably looked so egotistical, dressing her dog up in team gear.

"He needed a collar for his leash, and it was just what I had," he lied, hoping she wouldn't notice the matching Carolina Hurricanes leash neatly folded on the entryway table behind her. He didn't know if the idea that he already had a team collar lying around his house despite not having a dog was very believable, but it felt a bit better than the mental image of Andrei going out to the team store just to buy it for a stranger's dog.

"Right," she nodded. It wasn't quite what she was hinting at with the question, but Andrei once again seemed closed off with his answer, as if she had said or done something she wasn't supposed to.

Assuming he was trying to move the conversation away from hockey, she thought he was making a snide comment about Gus's lack of collar when he escaped. She knew he was supposed to wear one at all times, especially if he ever got out, so whoever found him could easily get her contact info and get him home, but Gus would scratch at his collar whenever he'd go to curl up in bed, so she thought he was comfier without it.

"Gus usually doesn't wear his collar at home," she tried to explain, words tumbling out without much thought as she tried to justify her actions. "I take it off so he can be comfy."

In hindsight, she realized it defeated the purpose of having her contact info on the collar if he wasn't wearing it, but she was technically a first-time solo dog owner, and she was figuring it out as she went. Who was Andrei to judge? From what she could see, he didn't even have a dog, so there was no way he could judge Noah or tell her how she was supposed to be caring for Gus.

Focusing on getting out of this exchange before she embarrassed herself anymore, Noah bent down to unclip the collar so she could give it back to Andrei, but he spoke up before she could remove it.

"No, you can keep it," he waved off, freezing Noah's movements.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, trying desperately to keep his voice as casual as possible. "I mean, I don't really have another use for it."

"Thanks," she practically whispered, clipping the collar back into place.

"So are you?" Andrei asked as Noah stood up again.

He knew their conversation was dwindling, and Noah didn't have much reason to stick around now that Gus had been returned to her, but he was still hoping to find some common ground that he could use as an excuse to see her again.

Sure, he had her phone number now, but he'd rather ask her out in person instead of texting her afterward. That felt a bit like an invasion of her privacy, and if he couldn't work up the nerve to say something in person now, he was never going to be able to hit send on a risky text message.

"Am I what?" Noah asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him.

He couldn't help but smile, noting that Gus did the same head tilt when you spoke to him, too. He knew that dogs tended to look like their owners, but it warmed his heart to see the similarity between Noah and her pup.

"A Canes fan," Andrei clarified, almost mumbling the words under his breath as if he couldn't believe he was saying it aloud.

"Oh."

What a weird question—Noah wasn't quite sure how to answer him.

Was this some sort of superfan that she was dealing with? As an NC State alumni, she knew this entire town was obsessed with college basketball first and foremost. But the Hurricanes had steadily grown in popularity over the last few years. She suddenly regretted her lack of knowledge about the local hockey team. Superfan or not, she would pretend to like the team if it meant having some sort of common ground with Andrei.

"My dad took me to a couple of games when I was a kid," she admitted. She racked her brain for something else, anything she could possibly think of about the local NHL team, but she came up empty. All she knew was that a few of her friends said the players were locals at a North Hills bar near her house, and they were all dreamy when they'd show up in their post-game suits, but that didn't exactly seem like the right kind of icebreaker to use on Andrei. "But that's kind of it, I guess."

"I could always leave you tickets," he offered, eyes focused on Gus as he happily sat at Noah's feet. He was too nervous to look up at Noah, so he focused on the dog as if that would make this whole thing easier. "If you were ever, like, interested, you know," he rambled.

"That's too generous," she dismissed, hands coming up to nervously fidget with the hem of her t-shirt.

She didn't know anyone off the top of her head who she could bring to the game, and it sounded more like he was offering her his tickets to go with someone else rather than bringing her with him as a date. Maybe recruiting new fans to come to games was part of his superfan duties.

"You don't have to give up your tickets for me," Noah added, attempting to soften the blow as she swore Andrei flinched at her answer.

Oh.

It clicked for him.

She thought he was a fan.

Between the jerseys on the wall and the Canes collar on Gus, he could understand the mix-up. How did he correct her in the least arrogant way possible? He didn't want to drop the 'Do you know who I am?' line, but it was pretty evident she had no idea who he was.

"No, like, I play for the team," he rushed out. He grimaced as he said it, hating the way it sounded. "I meant you could come to watch me play."

OH.

Noah felt the heat of mortifying embarrassment creep up her neck. She was usually so good with people, a natural social butterfly. Yet, Noah was fumbling this entire interaction. She didn't quite know how to return from this whole thing, so she let out a self-deprecating groan, hiding her face in her hands for a moment.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm making this whole thing so awkward," Noah laughed. She lowered her hands from her face, craning her neck to look up at Andrei. "This has been the most stressful 24 hours of my life. I haven't really slept; I've just been looking for this guy, and I don't think my brain is firing on all cylinders right now."

"It's okay," Andrei assured her, a bit relieved by her admission. He wasn't exactly playing this cool, either. Still, it was nice to know he wasn't completely misreading her interest here. "I probably shouldn't be trying to ask you out immediately after finding your dog," he acknowledged.

Noah's eyes widened as if she were a cartoon character.

This was him asking her out?! She wanted to blurt out a yes, scream that she would love to go out with him, but he shrugged and kept talking as Noah stood there, her jaw hanging slightly open as her brain tried to process what he had just said.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes," he explained, trying to backpedal. "Like, you owe me some sort of favor in return."

As Noah's mind reeled, Gus finally spoke up. His bark echoed in Andrei's foyer, startling her back into reality. Gus nudged his nose into Noah's leg, desperate to get her attention.

"Sorry," she breathed, cringing as Gus emitted another loud bark. "He does this when it's time for his evening walk."

Andrei took that as Noah's cue that she was ready to leave, so he bent down, opening his arms to invite Gus for one final goodbye. Noah swooned as she watched the burly hockey player delicately scratch behind the Goldendoodle's ears. Gus flopped over, laying on his back so Andrei could rub his belly.

She knew Gus loved people; his breed was known for being overly friendly and made for great family dogs, but she had never seen him warm up to someone quite as fast as he seemed to be warming up to Andrei. She felt a bit guilty that she was about to separate the two.

Maybe she'd have to make an excuse to see Andrei again—just for Gus's sake, of course.

"Bye, Druzhok," Andrei cooed, scratching his stomach as Gus wiggled joyfully. He seemed to answer to the new nickname, one Noah had never heard before, as Gus happily whined. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Where did you find him?" Noah asked as Andrei eventually stood back up. Gus let out a tiny howl at the loss of contact, clearly not ready for the hockey player's attention to stop.

Part of Noah was curious to know how Gus had ended up here, so far from her own home, but she mostly just wanted an excuse to linger for a few seconds longer before she had to say goodbye. This whole interaction hadn't gone how she had expected it to, but she wasn't ready for the attention from the dreamy hockey player to stop, either.

"He just showed up here," Andrei shrugged as he stood back to his full height. "I was about to eat lunch, and this guy wandered through the back door like he was looking for his plate, too."

Noah couldn't help the genuine cackle that slipped out, trying but failing to muffle the sound with the palm of her hand. She could perfectly picture Gus inviting himself in for lunch, especially if it was his favorite treat on the menu.

"Were you eating chicken?" she asked, her chest still shaking with laughter at the mental image.

"Yeah?" Andrei agreed, his brows knit together as he tried to figure out what made this all so funny.

"It's his favorite," Noah replied.

"I thought he was a neighbor's dog when he showed up," Andrei smiled as he spoke, glancing down at the innocent pup as he continued to wiggle around Noah's feet, ready for someone to bend down and pet him. "But then he was waiting on the porch when I got home from my game last night."

"He probably followed the smell of chicken back to the source," she laughed, shaking her head as she looked down at her goofy dog. "He'd follow that scent anywhere."

"Is that how he got out?" Andrei asked. "Following the smell of grilled chicken?"

"No," Noah answered immediately. Andrei raised his eyebrows, waiting for Noah to elaborate. "Well, not exactly. The fence in my backyard is broken."

She wrung her hands together as she spoke, worried Andrei might judge her for not taking proper care of Gus, just as she had been judging herself for the past 24 hours. She was doing her best on her own, but she was slowly realizing that sometimes she needed to ask for help from others.

Like how she now needed to wait for her dad to return to North Carolina, whenever that would be, to help her repair the fence properly. Until then, Gus would only be allowed out in the yard on a leash or under her watchful eye, with no exceptions.

"The latch never quite catches, and I think he finally nudged it hard enough to bring the whole thing down," she rambled. Noah focused her eyes on her hands, scared of the look of judgment she imagined was awaiting her on Andrei's face. A man living in a house this lavish and spotless didn't have a broken fence or janky gate that a dog could force open. "I bought all the stuff to fix it, I swear, but I don't really know what I'm doing. This whole thing has been overwhelming, but it will be fixed soon, I promise."

"I can fix it," Andrei blurted out.

The words were out of his mouth before his brain could realize what he was offering. He didn't know anything about fences or carpentry. He was probably the last guy on the team that someone would call if they needed help fixing something around the house.

At his home in Russia, when the dishwasher started leaving spots on all of his glasses last summer, rather than trying to fix it himself, he just bought a new dishwasher right away. He could easily hire a professional to come in and build a new fence for Noah, but that seemed a bit condescending to offer, especially right after she mentioned having already bought all of the material to do it herself.

He didn't know why he was offering to help fix anything besides the fact Andrei thought Noah was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen and was desperate for any excuse to be around her again. Maybe by the next time he saw her, he'd feel more composed than whatever this interaction was. He could figure out how to fix a fence if it meant he got another chance at properly asking Noah out.

"Really?" Noah's head snapped up at his response, eyes wide in disbelief.

All he needed was one more shot. How hard would it be to fake it for a few hours? He could nail a couple of planks of wood together and charm Noah into falling in love with him by the end of it.

"Yeah, of course," Andrei tried to shrug as if this was no big deal. He hoped she couldn't see the pink blush he could feel growing on his cheeks. "We don't want this little guy getting out again, right?"

And that was how Andrei ended up in Noah's backyard a few days later, naively trying to rebuild a fence.

Andrei called his dad the morning after meeting Noah, asking for advice on fixing a fence. All his dad did was unhelpfully suggest he call a professional, but Andrei couldn't explain why he insisted he had to do this himself. So Andrei resorted to asking a few of his teammates what to do and what kind of tools he needed, utterly clueless about where to start.

They offered him better advice than his dad, but not without relentlessly chirping him for doing all this for a girl.

"Did the usual Svechy charm not work?" Seth had laughed as he watched Andrei scroll through YouTube tutorials on his phone after practice one morning. Andrei had cursed him out in Russian, choosing to ignore his younger teammate as he continued to search for as many how-to videos as he could find.

Armed with the knowledge of approximately one and a half YouTube videos he didn't fully understand and the blind confidence that only a new crush could bring, Andrei had arrived at Noah's house ready to fake it like he knew what he was doing. He had borrowed a toolbox for the repair job from Jordan Martinook—Marty was the only one to offer him some actually helpful advice.

It was evident to Noah immediately that Andrei had no idea what he was doing, but she left him to try anyway, not wanting to embarrass or call him out when he was genuinely trying to be helpful. Noah and Gus watched Andrei work away on the back fence from their comfortable spot inside the air-conditioned house; the pair crowded around to supervise through the window in the back patio door.

Gus had been so excited to see Andrei when he had arrived, but he was now patiently waiting at the door as if he knew he wouldn't be allowed out until the fence was fixed.

"I don't think he knows what he's doing," Noah whispered to Gus, who sat politely at her feet.

Gus let out a soft whine, as if agreeing with Noah's comment.

"But he sure looks nice doin' it," she laughed, watching as Andrei took a moment of reprieve to lift the hem of his black t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.

After watching him struggle for a bit with the replacement panels, the fence slowly began to look like a fence again. From where Noah was perched at the patio door, she could tell there were still some gaps, and it looked a bit shaky, but it was at least a starting point. She'd probably fix the rest once Andrei had left—but she'd never tell him that.

When he turned his attention toward attaching the new latch for the gate, which should have been the last step in the repair process, Noah decided to make her presence known. She pushed open the patio door, letting Gus bound out into the backyard before she followed, an icy glass of sweet tea in her hand.

"Need a break?" she called as she made her way across the yard.

Andrei looked up from the fence, a dimpled smile breaking across his face at the sight of Noah and Gus approaching him. All of the frustration and embarrassment that had his blood boiling as he fought with this fence seemed to melt away as he watched Noah practically float across the lawn toward him.

There wasn't much of a breeze today; the weather was abnormally hot for this early in March. But every time the wind blew, or Noah took a step toward him, it lifted the hem of her short sundress just slightly. Andrei was thankful it was so hot out, so she wouldn't question why he was panting, chest heaving every time she came close to him.

"I think I'm almost done," he answered, accepting the cold glass from Noah's hands. He used his forearm to wipe the beads of sweat away from his face before taking a large drink.

Noah wiped the condensation the glass had left on her hand onto the fabric of her dress—the short sundress that Noah would be lying if she said she hadn't picked out just because she knew Andrei was coming over today. She wanted to make a better impression and look more put together than the last time he had seen her.

The humidity in North Carolina made it too sticky to wear makeup, but it was nothing a good push-up bra couldn't compensate for. She didn't need makeup when she was pretty sure Andrei wasn't even looking at her face in this dress.

"Thank you for helping," Noah beamed. She could feel his eyes following the beads of sweat forming along her collarbone from the short walk from her back door to Andrei's construction sight.

"Of course," Andrei smiled, placing the now empty glass atop one of the new fence posts. He rested his hand on the top of the fence, his frame looking even bigger in comparison. He looked down at Noah, who took a few timid steps forward until only a few inches separated them.

"Gus and I are so appreciative," she smiled sweetly, tilting her head to the side as she stared at him. She had to squint slightly, momentarily blinded by the bright sun beginning to set in the sky behind Andrei.

"Anything else I can help you two with?" he asked.

She swore he was leaning down slightly, as if preparing to kiss her. His smile looked more like a smirk in this light as he ducked his head lower, and Noah's heart jumped into her throat.

Suddenly timid, Noah took a slight step back. She didn't want to seem too eager and blow the cover on her embarrassingly large schoolgirl crush—one that had only gotten worse since he had shown up this afternoon.

"Actually, yeah," Noah answered, trying to play it cool. She figured if she was nonchalant with her answer, he wouldn't be able to tell how hot and bothered he had her already. "The doorknob on the hall closet is a bit loose."

the renovations / ремонт

Andrei knew nothing about home renovations, but couldn't say no to Noah.

Noah knew Andrei was hopeless when building or fixing anything, but she just wanted the excuse to keep seeing him.

He had no idea what he was doing each time he came over. He would spend the entire car ride psyching himself up that this would be the last time, and he would finally ask Noah out. Then he would get there, and as soon as she batted her eyelashes and smiled up at him, he was a goner.

He was usually confident around girls and never had any problem flirting or picking up a date at a bar. But something about Noah made him too anxious—as if he didn't want to use his usual tricks or risk her thinking she was just another girl to catch his eye.

He liked her, but something about that terrified him.

Andrei couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way about a girl.

He had almost told his mom about her before remembering they weren't actually anything. Andrei was just the guy who had found her dog and was now helping fix up her house. Noah always appeared so calm and collected when he came over, and she had been quick to turn down his original date offer the night she came to pick up Gus—even if it had been a pretty lame offer from Andrei.

He thought Noah liked him, too, but now he was too in his head about everything, and he couldn't tell for sure. The last thing he wanted to do was tell his mom all about her and get her hopes up over her son falling in love with the exact independent kind of woman his mother had always hoped for. Especially if this was all going to end up with him having to explain to her why it didn't work out or why Noah didn't like him back.

He settled for telling his mom he had made a new friend who was teaching him how to make repairs around the house, should Andrei ever need to know how. His mom had agreed it was a helpful skill to learn but sounded a bit skeptical about the whole thing. He knew she knew Andrei wasn't telling the entire story, but she wouldn't press.

Her youngest son, whom she was incredibly close with and spoke on the phone almost daily, would tell her what was really going on whenever he was ready.

So far, Andrei had:

Replaced the light fixture at the top of Noah's staircase

Assembled a new bookcase for her office

Removed the peeling wallpaper from the main floor bathroom

Patched the drywall in said bathroom

Put up new backsplash in her kitchen (this he had actually been good at!)

Pulled up the old carpet in the upstairs hallway

Helped sand the wooden railing on her front porch

Painted her spare bedroom

Noah had fixed nearly every project as soon as he had left, while Gus would lay at her feet, judging and side-eyeing her.

She was making more work for herself, having to fix everything he did rather than just doing it herself the first time. It was making this whole thing more complicated than it needed to be.

But she really liked him and didn't know how to broach the subject. If she asked him to stop helping or told him he wasn't any good at these DIY repairs, she knew he'd stop coming over. Without the promise of the next item on her to-do list, she wasn't sure she'd ever see him again.

He had insinuated that he was trying to ask her out that first night, which had gone right over Noah's head. And now she was impatiently waiting for him to ask her again, too scared to speak up and make the move herself. Now, she had gotten stuck in some weird limbo—somehow worse than the friend zone.

She wasn't his friend; she was the helpless girl who needed her spare bedroom painted because the ceilings were too high for her to reach.

The longer this went on, the more this felt like a business transaction rather than the beginning of a relationship. Did Noah want it to be a relationship? She knew she liked him by the way her brain would get all fuzzy when he was around, and Noah would forget how to speak, something she had never quite felt with anyone before.

Not to mention, the image of a sweaty and frustrated Andrei greeted her every time she closed her eyes. She needed some relief from this pent-up desire, and her own hand wasn't quite doing it for her anymore. Not when the real thing showed up on her doorstep nearly every day. But as close as Andrei was, she felt like she could only look and never touch.

She had thought maybe something had shifted between them the night they painted the spare bedroom together. She needed his height to paint the trim, but his hands weren't steady enough. Instead, Andrei had put her on his shoulders so she could use his height to cut in the edges herself.

His large hands kept a firm grip on her thighs to keep her balanced, and she hoped he couldn't feel her heartbeat racing or how her breath caught in her throat every time his fingertips would gently press into the skin left exposed by her shorts.

The sexual tension was so thick that they didn't even attempt to make small talk.

Noah had all but decided she was going to say fuck it and rip his clothes off whenever she finished painting this wall because she shouldn't stand it anymore. Andrei kept clenching and unclenching his jaw every time Noah would squirm around on his shoulders, and she was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing.

They had nearly finished painting the entire room when Noah dipped the brush too far into the paint can. A glob of baby blue paint fell from the brush's bristles to land directly on the perfectly sloped bridge of Andrei's nose. Noah giggled as she wiped it away, unable to look away from his dark brown eyes as he looked up at her with an equally lovestruck grin.

He decided he had waited long enough and was finally going to kiss her, tightening his grip on her thighs so she could lean down to meet him halfway. It all felt intoxicating: the nerves and excitement of a first kiss with the one as they both hesitantly leaned in.

Until they were interrupted by that Super Mario Brothers ringtone Noah had set just for her dad's phone calls.

They both jumped at the sudden disturbance, Noah putting her hand in the wet paint on the wall to try and steady herself on Andrei's shoulders as she snapped to attention. In an awkward and clunky dance, he set her back on her feet so she could grab the phone, swiping to answer the FaceTime call while she tried to wipe the paint on her hand off onto the fabric of her old t-shirt.

Her dad was calling to let her know that her older sister had finally had the baby, a beautiful boy they were calling JJ.

It was a jarring reminder for Andrei that Noah had an entire life that didn't involve him. He was merely a stranger she was letting into her home. It felt like Andrei had known her forever—like they were cut from the same cloth. But he hadn't, and she didn't owe him anything.

She had started crying almost immediately after answering the FaceTime call. Andrei stayed quiet in the background, not wanting to draw attention to himself or make Noah feel like she needed to introduce who she was currently with during such an intimate family moment. Andrei had quietly bid her and Gus goodbye in the background as Noah sniffled on the phone.

He let himself out after that, mumbling to Gus in Russian to "stop judging him" as he sulked down the staircase.

Andrei had sworn that night was the last time, and when he spoke to Noah next, he would tell her how he felt. No more dancing around the subject or ignoring the elephant in the room. He liked her and was fairly confident she liked him, too.

Except he didn't.

That had been weeks ago, and he had yet to make any sort of actual move. In fact, he was currently at Noah's house, installing a new shower head in her bathroom instead.

He felt pathetic at this point.

Andrei wasn't good at these things in Russian, and now he was trying to follow a tutorial full of English words he had never even heard before. He kept the volume on his phone low, hoping Noah wouldn't know he was watching a YouTube video to try and figure out how to install this in real-time.

He shook his head in frustration as he rewinded the video, still not grasping the step he was stuck on.

How much longer could he keep this going?

Andrei had been in love before—that was nothing new for him. He had had crushes and thought he had found the one many times before. But it had never quite felt like this before.

He was usually so level-headed, even when it came to having a crush. He could maintain his composure, make sure his head was still screwed on straight, but something about Noah felt entirely different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but being around Noah felt like he was coming up for air for the first time. She was refreshing, like the first sip of a cold beer after a long day, but could keep you on your toes like that first shot of vodka on a night out. Being around her felt like the satisfying click of two puzzle pieces finally fitting together.

Noah was the perfect last bite of a lollipop—satisfying and sweet.

Andrei couldn't get enough of her. No matter how small, every interaction left him falling harder and craving more. Hence why he was once again pretending to be some kind of handyman to save the day and help fix something around her house.

Noah felt guilty, almost like she was taking advantage of Andrei's kindness. She knew he was struggling, based purely on the string of what she could only assume were Russian curse words he muttered as he tried to install the new shower head. She thought this would be a safe task to ask of him since the packaging advertised it as easy to install.

She knocked gently on the bathroom door, poking her head in to offer him some reprieve in his battle with the shower fixture.

"How's it going in here?" she cautiously asked, opening the door wider so she could step inside.

"Good," he rushed out. He quickly shoved his phone into the pocket of his team-issued track pants, hoping Noah hadn't noticed him following along with the video.

Her eyes surveyed the mess, teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. There were parts and puddles of water everywhere.

"I'm, uh, almost done," Andrei lied, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

He was obviously not going to get this installed, and he definitely wasn't going to do it in a way that wouldn't result in a leak or hundreds of dollars worth of water damage. Noah installed this showerhead in her parents' bathroom a few months ago, so she knew she could quickly finish this one once he left. She also knew he was following the steps out of order and would never get it done at this rate.

"It's getting late," she warned, subtly offering him an out. When he had arrived at her house just before lunchtime, Andrei mentioned he had an afternoon workout he had to go to once he was finished.

Andrei glanced down at his watch, letting out a soft curse under his breath as he noticed the time. "Is it okay if I come finish this another day?"

"Of course," Noah smiled, nodding her head.

She watched him collect all the tools he had spread across the bathroom floor and the bathtub's edge. If there was one thing Andrei was great at, it was cleaning up. He had helped make Noah's life significantly more organized, so maybe this entire thing wasn't a complete waste.

She quietly stepped out of the bathroom, leaving Andrei to collect his things, as she went downstairs to wait in the living room. Noah resumed her spot on the couch, pulling her laptop back into her lap as she listened to the muffled sounds of Andrei puttering around upstairs.

Noah had report cards to finish today—not that kindergarteners really got graded. They were more like progress reports Noah had to write for parents, letting them know how well their kid shared or that they wrote their name all by themselves. They didn't require a lot of detail, but they were still time-consuming to write, and Noah needed some undivided focus to sit quietly and finish them.

She had tried to get through all of them while Andrei was upstairs fixing her shower, but all she had managed to do was spend the last few hours sitting here with her laptop open to a blank page. Instead, her mind was fully occupied with imagining all the ways she could break in that new shower with Andrei.

She heard Gus and Andrei's footsteps coming down the stairs before she could see them, looking up just as the Goldendoodle barrelled into the living room. He jumped onto the couch, his tail swatting at Noah's laptop, nearly sending it tumbling off her lap and onto the ground.

She had wasted her quiet time, and now Gus was all wound up and ready for his usual weekend afternoon run. There was no way Noah was going to get any work done until Gus had gotten his exercise and was tuckered out. She didn't think she had the energy to do both, but she owed it to Gus.

Andrei joined the pair in the living room, leaning over the arm of the couch to ruffle Gus's fur as Noah reluctantly closed her laptop.

"Do you need to eat anything before you go to practice?" Noah asked, pushing herself off the couch.

"No," he shook his head, glancing over his shoulder into the kitchen. The time on the clock on the stove let him know he needed to head out soon if he was going to make it to the rink in time, and Andrei hated being late. "I think I've got to head out now, anyways."

Despite turning down her offer, Noah still made her way into the kitchen, Andrei and Gus trailing after her. "Are you sure? I might have, like, a protein bar or something in here."

Andrei couldn't help but smile as he watched Noah pull open cabinet doors, scanning over the contents as she looked for something to offer him.

"It's okay," he repeated, joining her in the kitchen. He gently reached his hand above her head, closing the cabinet door she had opened to end her search. "They always feed us at the rink."

Noah nodded her head, slowly turning around. Andrei made no motion to move, his chest practically pressing against Noah's as his hand remained propped on the kitchen cupboard door, towering over her.

Andrei delicately tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear as she raised her hand to cover a yawn, exhaustion finally catching up with her. "I think you should get some sleep," he suggested with a small laugh.

"I can't. I have so much work I have to do tonight," Noah objected. She shook her head as she spoke, but her body betrayed her as she let out another yawn. "And Gus still needs to go for a run."

"Let me take Gus," he offered right away.

"No," Noah scowled, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm fine."

"Noah," Andrei warned, but she knew it was an empty threat. "Please let me help."

"You've helped enough," she answered, shaking her head in protest. She had already asked too much of him, having him repair nearly every room in her old house. She couldn't start asking him to babysit her dog for her, too.

"Because I want to help," he pleaded. "Let me take Gus. We'll get him some exercise, and you can get a moment of peace."

"I think you're just trying to steal Gus," she mumbled, trying to divert the conversation with a bit of humor.

"I mean, we had a good thing going," Andrei agreed. "He came to practice with me before. The guys bring their dogs out all the time. And he loved being on the ice!"

"The ice?!" Noah screeched. Andrei took a slight stumble backward, caught off guard by Noah's sudden shriek. "You took him on the ice?"

"Yeah?" Andrei replied, but it came out sounding more like a question. "He chased pucks with me. He loved it!"

"His poor paws," Noah cried. "He was probably freezing."

Maybe this lack of sleep and the stress of her impending unfinished work were making her a little bit more emotional than usual.

"No, no! He had so much fun," Andrei tried to reassure her. "He probably wants to go back, right, Druzhok?"

Gus barked as Andrei addressed him, tail wagging hard as it thudded against the kitchen cabinets. "See?" Andrei asked, gesturing to the dog, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "He's saying he wants to practice again."

"What does that mean?" Noah asked, ignoring Andrei's reasoning.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowed. "Practice?"

He was confident he was using that word correctly; it was one of the first English words he had ever learned. Was it a term only used in hockey that Noah wouldn't recognize? He was a little self-conscious of the possibility of mixing up his words and coming across as stupid to Noah.

But she shook her head.

"Drew-schawk," she tried to pronounce.

"Ah, Druzhok." Andrei couldn't help smiling as she stumbled through the Russian word's pronunciation. He never knew Russain could sound so romantic until he heard his native language coming from Noah's mouth. "It's like, uh, a friend. Kind of like buddy, I guess?"

"Buddy?!" she repeated, giving his chest a small shove. But Andrei's size had nothing on her futile shove, remaining firm in his same spot. "I can't believe you! You gave him a new name!"

"He likes it!" Andrei tried to defend. "He even speaks Russian!"

Gus barked again in confirmation, making Noah scowl even further.

Andrei's heart ached as he stared down at her. Everything about her was adorable to him, from the crease between her eyebrows as she glared at him to how plump and kissable her lips looked while she pouted. He didn't like upsetting her, even if he knew she wasn't seriously upset by this.

"No," she protested, swatting lightly at his chest again as he pulled her into a hug. "Stop trying to steal my dog!"

"Sorry, Malyshka," Andrei laughed, his voice muffled in Noah's hair as he pulled her into his chest as a peace offering.

He listened to Noah's soft voice repeat the Russian pet name under her breath. It had slipped out involuntarily, something that had been happening more and more lately. He was spending too much time with Noah, and the line between just friends and something more was getting blurrier in his mind.

"And what's what mean?" she asked, craning her neck to look up at him but making no motion to step back or detangle herself from his arms.

Andrei froze. How did he admit to her that he had just called her baby? The romantic pet name had slipped out so effortlessly that he didn't even notice he had used it until he heard her repeat it.

"I don't think there's, like, a direct translation," he lied as he loosened his grip, allowing Noah to step away.

She didn't believe him but decided not to press it. Noah made a mental note to Google the word afterward, if she could figure out how to spell it.

"So, can I take Gus off your hands for a couple of hours?" he asked again, eager to change the subject and hope Noah would forget what he had just said. "I'll bring him right back as soon as we're done."

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed. It was a good plan; Gus would get the necessary exercise, and Noah would get a few hours of quiet to do her report cards. "But if you try to steal him, I know where you live."

"Of course," he smiled at the threat, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before he stepped back to look down at Gus. Gus jumped up, pawing at Andrei's leg as he whined quietly. "Let's go, Druzhok. We're going to be late for practice."

After the pair left, Noah's house felt eerily quiet. Her cheek still burned from where Andrei had kissed her. He had always been pretty touchy, but the casual kiss was a new development in their relationship—or friendship, rather.

Safe in the silence of her home, Noah let out a frustrated groan. Noah liked him. And the more time she spent with him, the deeper she fell.

It felt scary to admit that Miss Independent could have a crush, but she needed to just go with it. She had been waiting for the universe to drop some perfect guy into her life, and here he was. It hadn't been the coffee shop order mix-up or randomly paired airplane seating chart she had imagined, but Gus had found Andrei and brought him into Noah's world.

She had been writing everyone off for so long, convinced she'd be fine by herself until that right person came along. And here, Andrei came along, yet she was still putting walls up for some reason.

Noah couldn't repeat the same self-destructive habits she had throughout her entire life and wonder why nothing changed. She was mindlessly watering a plastic plant and then acting shocked that it never seemed to grow. It was time to let the walls come down and just go with it.

If he was good enough for Gus, he was good enough for Noah.

The house almost felt too quiet as Noah eventually returned to the living room. She settled on the couch, already missing the warmth of Gus curled up next to her.

Andrei had spent so much time here lately that the house felt empty without him, too.

With the two boys gone, it felt like the home was missing its heartbeat.

She tried to force down the pit in her stomach at the thought. It had only been a few weeks, but Andrei had come into her life like a freight train. His energy was infectious—always so rambunctious and excited for anything. She wasn't sure how she could know someone for such a short time and yet feel like they had already spent lifetimes together.

He was a lot like Gus. That was probably why the pair got along so well.

She wasn't missing Andrei right now; she was just missing Gus, right?

The house was almost too calm to focus, so she reached for the television remote to turn on some background noise, hoping it might drown out the racing thoughts bouncing around her head. Pulling the laptop back onto her lap, she let her fingers hover over the keyboard as she stared at the blank document.

But curiosity got the best of her, so she clicked to open a new browser tab, pulling up Google Translate. She did her best to phonetically type out Malyshka before hitting enter.

A tiny squeal snuck past her lips as she read the translation. Almost as quickly as the webpage loaded, she slammed the laptop shut.

Noah didn't know how she was supposed to carry on like everything was normal, knowing the dreamy Russian hockey player that had stumbled into her life was now calling her baby.

the oak tree / дубовое дерево

This was it—something had to give.

He couldn't blindly fumble through any more home renovation projects and still keep his dignity intact. So, Andrei had decided this was the day he would finally ask Noah out.

Noah was running out of things to ask Andrei to fix and the patience to fix them when he left. She needed to tell him that she liked him. So, when she got the late-night text from Andrei asking if he could come over after practice tomorrow to see her, she decided that would be the perfect time to finally tell him.

She wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to come over, though.

His message was vague despite how much time he had spent composing the perfect text. He didn't want to say they needed to talk or some other cliche terrible omen, so he had deleted and retyped the same message more times than he could count before finally hitting send. But Noah agreed immediately without having to offer a reason for the visit.

Andrei had then spent nearly the entire day psyching himself up for how he would do it, not allowing himself to back out.

He needed to find a way out of this weird friend zone he had put himself in before she had him replace the shingles on her roof or clean the eavestrough. He didn't do well with heights but knew he'd be up there if she asked.

As Andrei pulled his car into Noah's driveway, he took a couple of extra seconds to compose himself before he got out. He was going to rip the bandaid off and do it right away. If she said no, if Andrei had misread all the signs and she wasn't interested, he needed to know so he could move on. Andrei couldn't renovate this house forever, hoping Noah might wake up and decide she was into him one day.

After stalling for as long as he could, Andrei climbed out of the car and gently shut the door behind him. Just as the door closed, he heard Noah's unmistakable voice cry out in the distance.

"Gus!" her voice echoed from the backyard. "Get your butt back here, now!"

Forgoing the front door, Andrei made his way around the side of the house, letting himself in the side gate. He was met with quite the sight waiting for him. Noah was frantically trying to hold onto Gus's collar, the same Canes one Andrei had got him, as the Goldendoodle tried to wiggle free. They were covered in mud, which he assumed came from the half-dug trench under the rickety back fence.

Andrei jogged over, taking Gus from Noah's grip as he picked up the muddy Goldendoodle. He watched Noah visibly relax as Andrei held on tight to the squirming dog.

"Thank you," she rushed out, wiping her hands off on her tank top.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he tightened his grip around Gus, who was still desperately trying to wriggle free.

"No," Noah groaned, throwing her head back as she took a deep breath. "There's a family of bunnies or something in the field behind my house, and Gus is determined to go and make friends with them."

Andrei laughed but quickly shut his mouth when Noah glared at him. She was clearly frustrated and didn't see the humor in this situation yet.

"These new fence posts are higher, so he's discovered he can slip under the panes in the fence with a little digging," she explained.

Andrei looked at the wonky fence he had built and noticed the blatant gap between the bottom of the fence and the ground. It was something he hadn't seen or thought would be a problem when repairing the fence, but for an escape artist like Gus, this was the starting point for a new secret exit.

"I caught him tryin' to slip under the fence and make a break for it again," Noah added, glaring at Gus as if he could understand what she was saying.

"Okay, what do we need to do to fix it?" Andrei asked. He instantly felt guilty about being the reason Gus could have gotten out again.

Noah did a double-take, momentarily weighing her options. She had told herself this was the end; she wouldn't use Andrei for free labor anymore. That wasn't the reason he was here today.

But she did honestly need the help. It would be faster if the two of them fixed the holes under the fence together than if she stubbornly tried to get through it alone.

"I'm sorry to ask," she started, but Andrei waved off her apology. "I have some dirt. We just need to pack it into the trench he dug and build it up so there are no more gaps under the fence."

"Two shovels?" he confirmed, to which Noah nodded.

"I'll go get them," she rushed out, hurrying toward the small shed in the far corner of the yard Andrei had never noticed before.

While she got the gardening supplies ready, Andrei carried Gus inside. He gave his paws a quick wipe with the towel hanging by the back patio door to try and minimize the mess he would make inside. He knew Gus would probably sit at the back door, watching intently as his two favorite people hung out outside without him, but he wanted his paws to be clean in case he wandered inside onto a bed or couch.

Already feeling a sweat forming in the sun's heat, Andrei peeled off his hoodie and left it on the kitchen counter. When he rejoined Noah at the back property line, she had a wheelbarrow full of fresh soil and two shovels.

This was precisely what Andrei had told himself he wouldn't do today. But Noah had been so frazzled when he arrived that it hardly felt appropriate to say anything. Plus, he offered to help because it looked like she needed it.

It was just shoveling dirt; there was no way he could mess this up.

So Andrei dug in, literally. He followed Noah's instructions, packing dirt and clay along the back property line to seal the gap below the fence—something his original YouTube tutorial never mentioned he needed to do. They tried to work quickly as dark storm clouds entered the skyline.

Noah tried to concentrate, ignoring the guilt in her stomach for asking Andrei for yet another favor. But all her mind could focus on was how good Andrei looked.

Andrei's grey Hurricanes t-shirt, now damp with sweat, clung to his back and outlined the impressive ridges of his muscular shoulders. She couldn't tear her eyes away as she watched the muscles flex below the tight fabric as he heaved another shovel full of dirt out of the wheelbarrow and onto the base of the fence. He squatted down to pack the mud and clay together, causing his gym shorts to ride further up his thighs, revealing the edges of the dri-fit compression shorts he had on underneath.

She was well aware that she was staring; all her attention focused on the impressive muscles in his quads. Noah knew hockey was a physically demanding sport, and his legs would no doubt be getting a tough workout each game, but seeing him up close like this was different.

He didn't seem real.

A part of her didn't even care if she was objectifying him at this point. How could one person look this good while shoveling dirt? It was unfair.

Andrei glanced over his shoulder when he noticed how quiet Noah had gotten. He quirked a curious eyebrow when he saw Noah had stopped digging.

"You okay?" he asked, deep dimples carving into his cheeks as he smirked.

Noah blinked, momentarily flustered that he had caught her staring. She closed her mouth, hoping she wasn't drooling.

"Yeah," she nodded, albeit too enthusiastically. "All good."

Andrei didn't press it, giving his head a slight shake as he stood back up to scoop up another shovel full of dirt. They spent most of that afternoon working in silence; Noah was mortified that he had caught her staring, and Andrei was trying to think of how to segue this conversation toward finally kissing her.

"We should wrap this up," Noah eventually said again, just as they dropped the final shovelfuls of dirt onto the property line. "Those clouds look pretty nasty."

Andrei looked up at the storm clouds that had gradually rolled in while they worked, the sky now nearly entirely black. As if on cue, a drop of rain hit him directly in the forehead as he looked up.

"We should probably get inside," he warned, but the sky had opened before he had even finished the sentence. Torrential rain began to downpour without warning.

Letting his shovel clatter to the ground, Andrei scooped Noah up over his shoulder. She couldn't help but shriek with laughter as he carried her back to the house, clinging onto his back for balance as he ran.

Despite his best efforts, the two were soaked to the core when they finally stumbled through the back door, dripping muddy rainwater onto the tile floor of her kitchen.

Noah wracked her brain to try and think of ways to invite him to stay. Maybe she could mention the rain looked awful, and he might not want to drive in it. But that felt stupid, and she doubted he'd stay for such a flimsy excuse.

"I should probably get going," Andrei eventually spoke up.

Noah nodded, watching Andrei fish his car key out of the pocket of his shorts. As she followed him to the front door to let him out, all of the house's lights flickered as thunder rattled the walls.

Gus let out a short yelp, running after Andrei. The pup skidded to a stop at his feet, whining as the lights flickered again. Andrei paused in the entryway, glancing between the scared dog at his feet and Noah, who nervously hovered in the doorway between the main foyer and the living room.

He felt bad leaving, especially as the weather only seemed to be getting worse, but he didn't want to be presumptuous and invite himself to stay. Noah had made no indication that she needed or wanted him to stay, and he didn't want to impose on the rest of her evening.

The universe seemed to decide for him as the lights flashed once more before ultimately going out. Noah let out a small gasp as the entire house went black. She wasn't prepared for just how dark her house would immediately get without the sun.

"Do you want me to..?" he asked at the same time Noah clamored, "Do you mind stayin'?"

They laughed as Andrei kicked off his muddy shoes, signaling to Noah that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I think I have some candles in the closet," she called over her shoulder as Andrei followed her back into the living room. Noah disappeared momentarily before returning with her arms full of an assortment of scented candles. This combination would smell absurd, but it was all she had to provide a bit of light while the power was out.

As Noah laid the candles out on the coffee table, lighting them one by one, Andrei wandered into the kitchen. He pulled his wet t-shirt off, swapping it out for the dry hoodie he had left on the counter earlier. Noah caught sight of him changing out of the corner of her eye, trying to offer him a bit of privacy as she forced her eyes to stay on the candles.

Once dry, Andrei joined her in the living room, flopping onto the couch with Gus. Noah excused herself for a moment, running upstairs to change into dry clothes of her own. She removed the muddy tank top and shorts, replacing them with a fresh pair of running shorts and an oversized NC State t-shirt. When she returned to the living room, Andrei had a pint of ice cream in hand, two spoons ready and waiting.

"It's going to melt without power," he reasoned, holding the second spoon out to Noah.

She giggled as she accepted the spoon, curling up on the couch beside him. She helped herself to a scoop of the cookies and cream ice cream, which probably would have been fine for a little bit in the sealed freezer, but she appreciated the gesture from Andrei. As Gus curled up on the other side of Andrei, something about this felt oddly complete. Like this was her family—the one she had always craved.

The pair made small talk as they finished the ice cream pint, catching up on all they had been up to over the week. Andrei told her about the season ending and playoffs beginning, excited to play the Islanders in the first round. Noah told him about the latest kindergarten news. He listened intently as she recalled the drama of the overdue library book and the boy who tried to sneak his pet gecko into his backpack for show and tell.

What little sun was left in the sky eventually fully set as Andrei and Noah moved from the melted ice cream to a bottle of red wine.

Andrei had never met anyone he could talk to so easily. No matter the topic, Noah could pull anything out of him, and he never felt self-conscious or judged. Everything about their friendship was easy.

Except for the elephant in the room.

As Andrei neared the end of his second glass of wine, the truth sat on the tip of his tongue. Dangerously close to blurting everything out, he decided to take a deep breath and get everything out in the open. It was the reason he had come here today in the first place; he couldn't let another opportunity pass him by.

"I have a confession," Andrei admitted, watching as Noah lifted her wine glass to her lips, eyebrows raised. She nodded her head slightly, encouraging him to continue. "I don't know how to build a fence. I just wanted an excuse to see you again."

"I know," Noah giggled into her glass. "You're pretty terrible at this whole handyman thing."

Andrei rolled his eyes as he sipped his wine, needing more of the liquid courage the bottle supplied him. "I mean, the fence is still standing, no?"

"Yeah, because I fixed it after you left."

As Noah laughed, she watched the scarlet blush creep up Andrei's neck, turning nearly the same color as the wine he had suggested they open.

"I'm sorry; I'm not laughin' at you," she tried to explain, but the sentence came out choppy as she failed to suppress her giggles.

"Yes, you are," he groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch as he stared up at the ceiling.

"No, I'm laughin' with you," she tried to reason. Noah watched his brows scrunch together in confusion. This expression was lost in translation, one Andrei had never recalled hearing before. She shifted onto her knees, leaning forward to rest her hand on his bicep to regain his attention. "I really appreciate your help."

"I wasn't much help," he shrugged, finally looking back at Noah.

"No," she agreed, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. She gently took Andrei's glass from his hands and placed it on the table beside hers. "But I loved spendin' all this time with you."

"Noah," Andrei choked out, throat suddenly dry as he watched her shift closer. With his hands now empty, they itched to reach out to her, desperate to pull her closer.

"Malyshka," she corrected him. Maybe it was the liquid confidence the wine provided, but Noah had been telling herself all day that this was it—the day she was going to tell Andrei how she felt. It was now or never, so she was speaking up.

His eyebrows shot up, caught off guard by her response. He couldn't believe Noah had remembered the pet name, and he was suddenly nervous that not only did she remember it, but she knew what it meant. "Your pronunciation is getting better," he managed to stutter out.

"I've been practicin'," she smiled coyly, shuffling closer until her knees pressed into his thigh.

"Oh yeah?" Andrei echoed. All he could focus on was the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the burning sensation everywhere Noah's skin touched his own.

Noah nodded again, her wine-stained lips pulling into a wide smile. "I thought it might come in handy."

"For what exactly?" he finally asked.

"Just this cute guy," she tried to downplay, but Andrei could feel his ego growing. "He speaks Russian, so I thought he might be impressed if I knew a bit, too."

"Consider me impressed, Malyshka," he whispered. He leaned forward, a large hand pressing gently into her lower back to pull Noah closer to his lap.

"I'm sorry if this is too forward, but—" she began to ramble, her confidence wavering as he stared down at her.

"I can't get enough of you," Andrei cut her off. "But I want to be able to come over and just see you. No more pretending to fix something just to be around you."

"I kept givin' you things to do because I didn't want you to stop coming over," she tried to reason. The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk as he tried to suppress the face-splitting grin threatening to break out. "I didn't know how to just tell you. Tell you that I—"

Noah trailed off, eyes searching his face for any reaction.

How did she put into words all that she felt for him? The words failed her; they couldn't do justice to the gravity of her feelings. He was overwhelming, like the simultaneous anxiety and relief of an overtime win, but that felt too cheesy.

At a loss for words, she figured showing him how she felt, how he made her feel, would do far more than whatever cliche phrase her brain could come up with right now.

Noah leaned in first, taking the lead as she crashed her lips against his. Andrei's hand came up to intertwine into her hair, tugging softly as her arms wrapped around his neck. He gently coaxed her lips apart, slipping his tongue into Noah's mouth. She melted into his touch as the hand resting on her lower back pulled her into his lap.

As he tugged her closer, Noah threw her leg over his, straddling his muscular thigh. His hands came to rest on her hips, fingertips slipping under the warm fabric of her t-shirt. They pulled apart for a moment as Noah tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her in just the lace balconette bra she was wearing underneath.

Andrei eagerly reattached his lips to her neck, leaving a trail of warm open-mouth kisses along her jawline. His hands rubbed soothingly up and down her sides, loving how he felt goosebumps break out everywhere he let his hands wander. He nipped lightly at her collarbone, earning a breathy whine from Noah.

His hands eventually came back to rest on her hips again, her entire body growing hot as she felt the muscle in his exposed thigh flex between her legs. She ground down against his thigh, the movement almost involuntary as he pressed his leg up into her to meet her hips. The seam from Noah's shorts offered the perfect amount of friction against her clit as she ground into him again, her head rolling back at the sensation.

Any hesitation or sense of embarrassment melted away as she heard him groan her name, his fingertips digging into her hips as he held her steady in place. His grip was so firm that Noah was sure she was going to wake up tomorrow with his fingertips bruised into her skin. The thought of him leaving his mark on her sent another wave of heat straight to her core.

Noah suddenly needed more of him. She blindly reached for the collar of his sweatshirt, tugging at the fabric until Andrei sat up a bit, helping her pull the hoodie over his head before tossing it haphazardly behind them. He reconnected his lips to her neck, sucking softly over her pulse point just below her ear.

Noah let her head fall back as she rolled her hips forward again, eagerly grinding down against Andrei's thigh. Her eyes rolled back, his name tumbling from her lips in a string of chants as she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. As she chased her high, she felt her slick arousal seep through the thin fabric of her shorts, coating Andrei's bare thigh where his shorts had ridden up.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice strained as he panted at the sensation. "Doin' so good."

Watching her use him for her own pleasure made his head spin. He could probably finish just from listening to the sweet noises she made as she rode him. He mumbled out a string of incoherent Russian curse words under his breath as he watched Noah's lips part with another breathy moan.

Noah picked up her pace, deliriously close. Andrei's hands came to rest on the back of her thighs, slipping under the thin fabric of her shorts to rest on her ass as he helped her keep her pace. He squeezed the plump flesh, prompting Noah to open her eyes and look down at him.

Andrei's brown eyes were impossibly dark as he stared at her through hooded eyes. His mouth hung open, breath heavy as he watched her ride his thigh.

"Andrei," she panted, feeling his muscular thigh flex below her. "I'm not gonna to last."

He pressed his leg up into her a bit harder, offering even more friction as she gasped out another moan. She let her head fall forward, forehead resting against his shoulder as she rolled her hips forward at an unrelenting pace.

"Then come for me, Malyshka," he whispered, lips pressed against the shell of her ear as he spoke. "Wanna hear how sweet you sound."

That was enough for Noah. She felt the knot in her stomach tighten, ready to snap as she let out a strangled moan, her movements becoming sloppy as she desperately chased her high.

Just as she was about to tumble over the edge, a thunderous bang shook the entire house. Noah immediately froze, eyes wide as her head shot up, staring down at Andrei, who had an equally shocked look on his face.

What a way to ruin a moment.

"What was that?" she gasped, struggling to catch her breath.

"I don't—I don't know," Andrei stuttered, his chest heaving.

Another loud cracking sound rang out, different from any thunder they had heard before. This boom was followed by a crash that had the entire house rattling again. All the commotion had Gus sprinting to the back door, barking loudly at the glass-pained window.

Noah slipped off of Andrei's lap, watching cautiously as he got up to follow what had Gus's attention. When Andrei let out a low laugh at whatever he found, Noah climbed off the couch to follow him and see what was going on. She met him at the back door, eyes following his until they landed on the heap of branches lying where her fence once stood.

Her grandmother's old oak tree, which Noah had refused to trim because she thought it looked so beautiful, had finally cracked in the stormy weather. Branches had come crashing down, landing directly on the fence Andrei had barely fixed, taking the entire thing down with them.

"Well, I guess you have an excuse to keep comin' over," she weakly joked, wrapping her arms around Andrei's waist from behind as they stared out at the collapsed fence.

She felt his chest rumble with laughter as she rested her chin on his shoulder. He spun around, pulling Noah in closer to him by the hips. He gently tapped the back of Noah's thighs, encouraging her to jump up. Easily catching her, Noah wrapped her legs around Andrei's waist.

"Nah, I think I'm retired from home repairs," he laughed, resuming kissing along Noah's exposed shoulder. He slipped her bra straps down her shoulders as he walked her backward toward the couch, hellbent on picking back up where the oak tree had interrupted them. "We can call a professional," he managed to get out between tender kisses along her shoulder blade.

"Givin' up so soon?" Noah taunted, tugging softly at the hair at the nape of his neck for emphasis. Her actions elicited a deep groan from the hockey player, one that went right to the heat pooling between her legs.

Andrei gently tossed her onto the plush couch, smirking as he stared down at her. "I've got better things to focus on, Malyshka."

---

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alilove1998 · 9 days

Text

LET’S PLAY PRETEND SERIES - MATTHEW TKACHUK - Masterlist

(Y/N) and Matthew have been best friends since forever. You know him better than himself and vice versa. But when Matthew makes a wrong step can you help him pick up the pieces and get his NHL career back on track? It will take a lot but will you be able to push your feelings aside and play pretend?

Warning: This series will contain smut 18+ reader only please

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 🔥

Part 4 🔥

Part 5 🔥

Part 6 🔥

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alilove1998 · 12 days

Text

a new birthday tradition | jack hughes

warnings: extreme domination, spanking, spit kink, cockwarming, hair pulling, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, degradation (a bit), established!relationship pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: fem!reader proposes a new birthday tradition to jack (based on the request: "jack hughes spanking and spit kink pls") wc: 2787

“Birthday boy,” you sing-song, tracing Jack’s nose.

Your touch rouses Jack from his nap. He was sleeping on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work, having fallen asleep from boredom. It’s normal for Jack to fall asleep in the middle of the day, so this little touch has become part of your everyday routine.

“Hi, babydoll,” you greet when Jack blinks his way awake.

He finds you in his eyeline and sighs, the corners of his lips turning up. “Hi,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness.

“You know what I was thinking about today?” You ask, smoothing back Jack’s hair. He nuzzles his face into your palm, dropping a kiss onto your skin.

“What?”

“There’s a birthday tradition that I thought you might like.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d put a little twist on it.”

Jack cocks his head to the side. “What is it?” He asks, voice wary. He immediately thinks of the first time Quinn told him that his birthday cake smelled like something but he couldn’t figure out what, and Jack leaned down to take a sniff, and Quinn shoved his head into the frosting. He’d rather eat a birthday cake than shove his face into it.

You drop your head so you’re whispering in his ear. “Birthday spankings.”

Jack pulls away from you, looking affronted. “You’re not spanking me.”

You roll your eyes. “Duh, dummy,” you drawl. “When have I ever been the one to spank you? Obviously, you get to spank me. One for every year you’ve been alive, plus one for luck.”

“Oh,” Jack replies. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

You roll your eyes for a second time. “Could you be less enthusiastic about it? You love my ass. You love spanking me. ‘Yeah, that could be fun?’”

Jack shrugs. “I prefer to spank you when you’re being a brat. This is, like, a gift.”

You blanch. You stare at him. Jack stares back. You blink at him slowly and set your jaw, your mouth straightening into an annoyed line. Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and pull your blouse over your head, drawing Jack’s eyes to your lacy red bra and the swell of your breasts. His hands twitch in his lap and he raises one to set it on your hip, to pull you back down to him, but you step out of reach.

“Where’s your sling?” You ask, toeing off your shoes and kicking them away.

“In the bedroom where I left it,” Jack says, snarky. He hates the sling. The angle causes his arm to fall asleep and he hates the numbness. It’s not like he’s moving his shoulder or hurting it any more– he’s going to rehab and PT, working with the best trainers in the NHL. He doesn’t want to wear his dreaded sling on his birthday.

You take off to the bedroom, returning shortly after with Jack’s sling. You hold it out to him with an expectant look on your face.

Jack groans, but puts it on nonetheless. He glares at you once his arm is properly situated in his sling, his arm already prickling with discomfort. “You know I only have to wear this thing for like two more weeks,” he points out begrudgingly. “And the doctors said I don’t have to wear it all the time.”

You unbutton your pants and lower them, again drawing Jack’s eyes to the matching red thong you wore today, planning for him to see you like this. “That doesn’t mean you can take it off whenever you want,” you tell him. “We decided that you’d wear it when you weren’t doing anything. You’re sitting on the couch. You’re not doing anything.”

“I was napping.”

“‘I was napping,’” you repeat, mocking him. “What if you had laid on your arm wrong and set yourself back a few weeks?”

Jack’s nostrils flare at your words. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you could have rolled over in your sleep. I don’t want you to have to miss out on pre-season stuff because you were reckless with your shoulder, Jack.”

“I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I’m also not a child, I know when I’m pushing myself too much. You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

“You’re acting like I’m helpless. I’m not fucking helpless just because I had surgery.”

You rejoin Jack on the couch and his eyes find your cleavage again, but he tears his gaze away from your breasts in order to continue this argument.

“You’re the one who pouts about your shoulder whenever I’m around to try and get attention from me. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” you argue.

With each one of your statements, you play Jack like a fiddle. He said it was easier to spank you when you were acting like a brat, so act like a brat you will.

“Yeah, but you know when I’m just trying to get attention. You play into it every time, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

Jack glares at you. “You only say that because you’re losing this argument.”

You lean forward, “accidentally” pushing your breasts together for Jack to see. He gulps, eyes flickering down then back up to your face. He tries to steel his face, but doesn’t do a great job.

“I’m not losing this argument,” you scoff. “You know I’m right. You’re just being difficult because you hate the sling. If I called your doctors right now, they’d tell us that you need to wear the sling more often.”

You move forward again, this time crawling over Jack’s lap until you’re sprawled over him completely, ass up for him to see.

Jack’s free hand palms one of your cheeks, resting on the skin. His thumb barely touches the lace of your thong where the fabric disappears.

You throw a glance over your shoulder and offer Jack a dazzling, smug smile. “Was that bratty enough for you?”

It dawns on Jack that you’ve goaded him into this, his hand itching to teach you a lesson still, even though it was a fake argument. He grins, letting out a little laugh. His head drops with the laugh and he pats your ass, frustratingly gentle.

“You got me, huh?” He asks.

“You’re so easy,” You reply, giggling.

Jack slaps your ass for that, barely a spank.

“That's one,” you tease. “Twenty two more.”

Jack closes his eyes and tries to bite back a smile. He tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. “Plus one for luck,” he adds. “Don’t forget that one.”

“Oh, how could I forget,” you say. You raise your hips and wiggle them invitingly, drawing Jack’s eyes. “You should punish me for it.”

Jack brings his hand down on your ass again, harder this time. “So annoying.”

“That’s two.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack laughs, bringing his hand down again.

You don’t– you continue to count and moan and each time you make noise, Jack spanks you again. His hand moves more harshly with each drop. Your skin slowly grows more and more red, starting to match your red underwear. It grows sore, but Jack doesn’t stop spanking you until he reaches the 24th. You’re a moaning mess, whining and squirming in Jack’s lap, eyes wet with unshed tears by the time Jack blows cool air over your skin. All of your wiggling over his lap caused him to grow hard while administering his birthday spankings, and he knows that if he brought his fingers down to your cunt, he’d find that you’re soaking through your panties.

Jack pulls you up but the straps of your bra, the elastic snapping back against your skin when he lets go. You arch your back and whimper, climbing onto Jack’s lap to straddle him.

Jack smiles, wiping the wetness from your eyes with his thumb. “How do you feel, pretty girl?” He asks, bringing his thumb down to toy with your bottom lip. He moves it and, like a puppeteer, mimics your voice to speak for you. “So good, you always give me exactly what I need, I love you soooo much, Jacky.”

You laugh wetly, pushing his hand away. “You’re such a loser.”

Jack furrows his brow, humming in a disapproving way. “Now that’s just mean. Maybe I should spank you some more.”

You pout, glaring at Jack. “Yeah, and make me bleed? I don't think so.”

“How about this,” Jack muses. “Wanna give me another present?”

You nod, fingers tracing his clavicle.

“Get on your knees.”

Jack helps you down, kneeling prettily between his legs. You sit back on your heels and look up at your boyfriend, waiting for his next move.

“Go ahead and take me out, honey,” Jack encourages, lifting his hips so you can work his shorts and underwear down his legs. His cock springs up and bounces back, pretty and weeping from his arousal. You go to take him in your mouth, but Jack stops you. “No, no. Warm me. I'm gonna watch a little TV and if you’re good, I’ll fuck your throat.”

You melt, feeling yourself grow so warm and wet that you might honestly drip onto the floor if you get any more turned on. You go to take Jack’s cock in your mouth, but he stops you again, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You look into his gaze for a moment before his eyes drop to your mouth. You open your mouth, waiting for Jack to feed you his cock instead of taking it yourself.

Instead, he drops a line of spit onto your tongue and closes your mouth. You swallow, eyes wide and blinking up at him. It’s humiliating and so good, making your head a little foggy and your knees spread a little wider.

Jack’s eyes find your knees against the floor, your wet cunt. He purses his lips, smiling with his tongue against his front teeth, looking devilish. He knocks a pillow to the floor with his slinged arm, eyes hooded and daring.

“Pick that up,” he tells you.

You move like a machine, grabbing the pillow and ready to put it back up on the couch, to cushion his injured arm. Jack uses said arm to block you.

“Why don’t you put that between your legs,” Jack suggests, voice bored. When your eyes go wide and you freeze, staring up at him, Jack smirks. His voice drops, low and seductive. “I see how wet you are, baby. I’m giving you something to grind against while you warm me. It might not be my cock, but it’ll be good enough, right?”

You could come on the spot, feeling lost. With aborted movements, you place the pillow between your knees and press down on it, eyes fluttering at the friction.

“Good girl,” Jack praises. He fists his cock and taps the head of it against your lips. “Open up, baby. Let me take that dirty mouth.”

He thrusts his cock into your mouth, waiting until your throat adjusts around him to grab the remote and flick on the TV.

You stare up at him, breathing through your nose. You rest your head on his thigh, the downy hair of his legs tickling your skin. You crinkle your nose, but keep your mouth fastened around Jack’s cock. Jack smiles down at you before turning his attention to the TV, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

He knows what happens when he tangles his hands in your hair, especially when his cock is in your mouth. It drives you to start moving your hips against the pillow, eyes fluttering when the seam of the pillow catches against your clit. You’re trying to keep your head still around his cock, but it’s hard to do when you’re chasing your own release.

Jack’s fingers tighten around your hair, tugging at the roots. You moan around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock.

“You can’t even last five minutes before you move, huh, baby?” Jack asks. He puts on a mask of disappointment, spurring you on when you open your eyes and plead with him.

Your hips move faster, the pillow good but not quite enough to satisfy you. You whine, blinking up at Jack. Still trying not to move your mouth, you flex your tongue against him.

Jack licks his lips, eyes trailing up and down your body. He’s taking you in, the way your cheeks are flushed and your hands are grasping the pillow beneath you, the way your hips are dragging in tilted bursts, trying to maintain the pleasure of your clit hitting the item between your legs. Jack bites his lip as he looks at the wet stain that you’ve left on the pillow.

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, twisting the locks in his hand and pulling. You let out a cry of pleasure, losing track of your volume, too overcome with pleasure. Jack’s pull tips you toward orgasm, your hole flexing around nothing and feeling neglected and empty.

“Jack,” you moan, his name garbled around his cock.

The uninterested look in Jack’s eyes contrasts the slight smile on his lips as he pushes his hips forward into your mouth, then pulls back. He starts to fuck you slowly, but quickly loses his control when you bring one of your hands up to his thigh, fingernails digging into his skin.

His lip curls with a hiss, his pace increasing. You’re a mess, completely desperate beneath him. Your eyes are shining with tears as Jack uses your throat, his thrusts harsh and completely self-indulgent. You gag around him, your throat constricting, and Jack growls. He pushes your head down, your nose brushing against his pelvis and he releases into your mouth with a groan. His come paints your throat with white spurts and Jack uses his grip on your hair to pull you off of him.

A line of spit connects your mouth to his tip and Jack watches your eyes grow heavy, sated, when you swallow his come.

“Gonna come for me?” Jack asks.

Your eyes find his and you nod.

Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weigh next to nothing.

The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs. You’re boneless, quivering between Jack’s legs. He pulls you up onto his lap and coos at you, snaking a hand between your legs to rub over your clit with a teasing finger.

“Think you can give me another?”

“Jack,” You whimper out, shying away from his insistent fingers, but they just follow you and press into you wherever you go.

Jack moves yout thong to the side, burying his middle and ring finger into your pussy and flexing his fingers until you’re squealing from the contact. He pushes his thumb into your clit and you grind down, wincing from the overstimulation but unable to stop chasing the pleasure.

“Look at my baby,” Jack marvels. “So pretty, so perfect. So slutty, huh, baby? You beg me to spank you, you fuck against a pillow until you come, and now you’re taking my fingers. So greedy. I’ve spoiled you.” He curls his fingers inside of you, relishing at the whimper that he steals from your lips with each of his movements.

You come again, the heat of it washing over you. You’re helpless to it, feeling like the orgasm is just rushing through you. You shudder on Jack’s lap, your wetness dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of the couch below you. Jack draws his fingers out slowly, not to overstimulate you even further, and kisses you softly.

“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Jack asks against your lips.

You nod, voice soft. You can barely move, so comfortable on his lap, feeling his skin against yours. “Happy birthday, darling,” You agree, and kiss him again.

“Is this going to become a real birthday tradition?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “Me spanking you?”

You hum, considering it. “Maybe not when we’re seventy-five and wrinkly.”

“This ass?” Jack reaches behind you and squeezes. “This ass isn’t ever getting wrinkly, not on my watch.”

“Okay, Jacky,” you snort with laughter. “Whatever you say.”

notes: *in a marilyn monroe voice* happy birthday... mr. president <3

this was meant to be a blurb. a short one. for jack's birthday. it did not STAY a blurb. that's my bad. i have a tendency to go overboard. hoping y'all enjoyed!

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alilove1998 · 13 days

Text

dreams of someone ✒︎ m.barzal

summary: all lina’s dreams seemingly had come true – and then she met mat in a time where they both needed ... someone

featuring: mat barzal, lina thorne (oc), sydney esiason martin, and the rest of the martin family in mention

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none -- there is a ton of food mention though especially of the baked variety

dedication: this little one shot was written for bre (@fallinallincurls) for demi's winter fic exchange!

the last time ii wrote about mat was two or so years ago so please give me some grace. but writing this was the exact challenge that i needed so i really did enjoy writing it for you and adjusting it to suit your desires. so, i hope it meets your expectations and that you enjoy it!

and a little dedication as per always to demi (@wyattjohnston) for hosting and understanding that life sometimes happens.

It was a typical opening morning for Lina Thorne. She’d woken up at 4:30am, showered and got herself ready for her shift. It was a quick morning stroll to her place when the city that never sleeps was a lot quieter than and the sun was still well below the horizon and wouldn’t be painting the skies until the first batch of cookies was in the oven. The woman couldn’t hide the yawn that left her mouth as her key slid into the lock and the front door to the store opened.

Lina never imagined that she be living the dream in New York City, especially since her dreams of staying out in the big city upon finishing her internship with her mentor never came true. Instead, she found herself dreaming of what life in the big city could be for her, working in a bakery out in Boston honing her skills and surprisingly making herself seemingly at home. She had been referred for the position by her mentor despite his own wants to let the young chef go. Working her way into management and securing respect and acknowledgement in the pastry world. All an up-and-coming pastry chef could ask for. It wasn’t until during a prep day that her boss mentioned a position that she was put into consideration for that would lead her back to the city of her dreams and training not only as a baker but rather the head baker of the newest branch of the bakery she’d happily called home for the last three years.

However, as stood in the commercial kitchen under bright cool lights, being able to say she ran the little bakery on the island, she couldn’t help but pat herself on the back. The nerves had initially consumed her and although her boss and the owner of the bakery had been around for training of staff, prepping for the opening and the grand opening itself. Almost as soon as the store was open and running within the week, she was then solely in charge. It was days like this, however, that she loved the most. Mornings where she was able to get back into the very reason why she got into baking in the first place. It was a time when she could take a moment to herself and just breathe. Especially on a day like today when she had a big order to fill out, for none other than one of her newest friends in the neighbourhood.

Lina’s eyes flitted towards the clock, keenly aware that it was fast approaching time to slip the decorated sign on the door and let customers know that they were open. She had since been joined by two baristas and two of the bakers who were due to take over from her once the store opened up whilst she got her deliveries done before working through paperwork. The shout from one of the aforementioned baristas shook her out of her haze as she iced the cookies in front of her. Calling out for a moment, she finished up the cookie she was decorating before placing the pining bag down and reaching for the dishtowel.

Walking out into the front, she sent a smile to the two college students who were pulling down chairs and wiping tables before her eyes landed on a familiar head of hair tapping their fingers against her counter. Pulling a face of confusion, she moved towards him dropping the dishtowel.

“We’re not open yet.” She spoke before crossing her arms as he turned towards her. A smile that she could only describe as cheeky sat on his lips as he gave her a little shrug before leaning towards her.

“I was told to pick up a cookie deliver. Sydney’s orders,” He spoke with amusement filling his words, “There’s no saying no to that woman.”

“Mat, Syd’s order is set for delivery.” She wasn’t quite sure if she believed in what he was saying but it wasn’t in her nature to be unkind.

Lina had met Mat by chance and obviously all thanks to the woman currently in question. Sydney and a couple of the other wives and girlfriends of the Islanders had dropped by for a coffee date from which Sydney had made it her newest spot and was happily welcomed by the bakery’s staff as a regular. The more time Sydney spent in the establishment, the more opportunities she got to speak with young women and truly it was hard to say no to that woman. Before she knew it, she was being invited to dinners, and girls’ nights – she had even frequented hockey games which was something she hadn’t done since she was in culinary school. The late nights of the games just didn’t align with the early morning that was required of her at the store. It was one of the rare late nights she had free when she was invited by Sydney to a dinner party at the Martin residence and she had run into Mat. The story according to Syd was that Mat was only invited because of a recent break-up and them wanting him to be around people who loved him and wanted nothing but happiness for him. It, and Lina will quote, “is not a matchmaking setup” like other introductions to Sydney’s male friends of the same age as the baker had been.

The two had been seated next to one another and Mat’s glum mood had caught her attention. But not knowing anything of his current situation and maybe having had a little too much fun doing unplanned pres with the hostess with the mostess gifting her looser lips than normal, she had made a remark about his apparent brooding. A thought she assumed was just that but upon hearing the chatter quieten down a little, she realised her words most definitely left her mouth. Slowly lowering her glass to the table, she turned to apologise to the male beside her when the snort that he let out left her sorry and confused. It was all quickly replaced with intrigue when he shot back with a retort of his own, prompting the two adults into a comfortable and playful argument. It was that moment where instead of anticipating the presence of a certain blonde every day, she noticed a certain brunet make a place for himself at the table closest to the counter by the display case.

The baker had been warned against Matt’s teammates but none other than Matt himself. She’d gotten the idea that Matt was keenly aware of his wife’s ability to befriend people and more importantly take them under her wing, if how quickly she was welcomed into the family dynamic of Martins was anything to go by. Regarding dating, who was she to question a man who spent most of his time with said teammates, she doubted she’d ever even meet and if she ever did, so many faces pass through her doors, she wouldn’t even remember them. Which is why the hockey player who had chosen to make himself a fixture had initially garnered a little apprehension from her but without fail, he always came in and grabbed a coffee (and a cake on those days he chose to treat himself), his a seat and left when he was all done, never without a generous tip. He was kind enough to her staff and even kinder to the other regulars who were in at the same time as him, so she let him be. All business is good business, even though she knew for a fact there were coffee shops much closer to his apartment, the arena and even the practice facility. But who was she to complain.

She couldn’t remember when it started but she eventually started joining him when he’d visit in the mornings. Their chats were surprisingly something familiar, and comfortable, like talking to an old friend. They joked and teased but most of the time they just let go. It had been a couple weeks since they first met, and it wasn’t until the second week of them sharing a drink that he’d actually opened up about why he was looking so glum the night they had met and why he was hanging around her café. How he got her store details from Sydney and how he was drawn to the fact that she didn’t handle him as though he was fragile. How all he had wanted when it felt like someone he cared about deeply had uprooted him from his very foundation was normalcy. And that’s what Lina gave him. He was just another friend of a friend to her; he was just Mat to her. Not heartbroken Mat, not healing Mat, not even NHL superstar – Just Mat.

“Well, you’re not all that Mathew.” She had stated to which he could only respond with a soft ‘Exactly’. Ever since that moment, they had shared ample time with one another both in and outside of his coffee trips. And despite the time Mat has been spending within their four brick walls, it was still a surprise to see him at the store before opening.

“Can’t be, she sent me a frantic message at 7 telling me she needed a favour and who am I to fulfil my favourite uncle duties,” He explained before sending a wink her way, “Anything for Winnie.”

“Yeah, she lied to you,” She answered, giving him a double pat on the shoulder and a short cackle before moving over and opening the gate for the man, “One time only, might as well put you to work.”

The two of them made their way to the kitchen and while Mat went to wash his hands (not before Lina pointed a firm finger towards the sink to gently direct him to do so), Lina grabbed him a free apron and tossed it over his shoulder. Moving back to the station where the last of the cookies were waiting to be decorated and then packed away for delivery.

“So, what can I do?” Mat slipped the apron over his head as he leaned over to observe the spread of baked goods before glancing back over at her. His confident smile slowly slipped off his face as she grabbed a piping bag and handed it over to him.

“I line, you flood.”

“Didn’t you train like three years for this?” Giving the bag a gentle squish and frowning when no icing flowed out.

“It’s basically impossible to mess it up, it’s like colour by numbers,” She explained softly as she grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the end of the piping bag while adjusting his hand to make sure no icing was wasted. Pulling the cookies, she was previously working on in front of him all lined and ready to fill in front of him, before gesturing towards the piping bag and gesturing back to the cookies. “Match the flood colour to the line colour. Winnie does it all the time.”

“While I know that’s not really true, the dig hurts.” His free hand flew up to his chest in mock hurt before laughing and finally putting icing to cookie with an almost amusing amount of concentration.

“Get filling pretty boy, I will not have my little princess disappointed.”

The two of them worked almost like a well-oiled machine. It almost felt like she was back in culinary school, helping out with the younger years. They weren’t always perfect, but their hearts were always in the right place and if there was one thing she had learnt about Mat was that his heart was always in the right place. Almost to a fault. The whole bravado he put on was more like a mask. At least in front of her. He never had any walls up with her, but he definitely had worn the walls she constructed when she moved down. She always knew that those walls had to come down eventually, but she definitely didn’t expect it would come from a chance encounter with a random stranger. The girls and her staff had done their fair share and warming her up and making her feel at home but the first time she ever truly let herself be with no pretences and no fears of being judged and not fitting in was sitting in the store over a cup of coffee with Mat.

Before long, all the cookies, cupcakes, and the grand finale cake of it all were packed into the refrigerated bakery van ready for transportation to the Martins' house, where preparations, if the texts and calls she had received from Sydney were anything to go by, were well underway. Despite Mat’s pleas to drive, Lina kept a firm hold of the keys until they were safely parked in their friends’ driveway. Grabbing her garment bag from its place hanging in the backseat, she walked up to the front door. Mat’s knuckles were knocking against the wooden door as Lina reached him up on the front step. His eyes were drawn to the bag in her hand, and he couldn’t help but bring up his curiosity.

“What’s with the change of attire?”

“As if I’m going to spend the rest of the day in clothing that’s covered in powdered sugar, flour and dried batter and dough. Plus, if I’m going to be around kids with surprisingly sticky hands, I’m going to start with a fresh slate.” Her words were light and humorous and before Mat could even attempt a response, the door opened and a hand was wrapped around Lina’s wrist, pulling her into the house quickly.

“Thank goodness you’re here, I need your help.” The blonde in front of her pulled her to the side before aggressively motioning to Mat who was still pulling his shoes off. He almost comically pointed to himself before looking behind him only to be physically pulled into their little huddle a second later, “There’s so much left to sort out and both Alice and Winnie want pancakes. Help Matty and I out?”

“Don’t think I’m your guy, I’mma just –“

“Of course we can help, go do what you need to do,” Lina responded, grabbing onto Mat’s arm before he walked away. Sydney gave her a smile and with a blown kiss, she was gone. Once her friend was out of view, Lina’s hand swung up to Mat’s shoulder, “Really?”

“What?” He was greeted simply with a shaken head as she slipped her own shoes off along with her jacket before she walked into the kitchen. Pouting at the lack of an answer, he followed her quickly “What?”

Mat watched as she made quick work of pulling out the necessary ingredients and equipment for the pancakes. Pulling up one of the bar stools, he settled into a routine that was very much a typical evening for them. Since he frequented the store so much, Lina had decided that for all the real estate he was taking away from her other customers, he had to give something back and that was how he became her official taste tester. Once, every other month they’d get together and along with a constantly refilled glass of wine (courtesy of Mat), she’d bake all her experimental recipes and flavour pairings on him. It was one of the things that she loved about him. She loved simply baking with no pressure of it being commercially viable and nothing is better than baking for someone who is more than happy to consume. Even if it means she has to put up with the constant whining about how her goods are going to make a certain someone work harder at the gym.

The two worked in a comfortable quiet, Mat had put music on the Alexa quiet enough not to disturb anything happening in the other parts of the house. Mat was picking at the tester pancake before he hopped off the stool and made his way over to the cupboard and pulled out the Nutella and a spoon, before settling himself beside the baker who was humming along to the music.

“What happened to all that ‘I’m a disciplined athlete’ talk?”

“I’m just a man and you’re out here teasing me with all those amazing treats you made me decorate and now you expect me to not have at least one spoonful of chocolatey goodness?” Forcefully scooping up a spoonful of said spread, her pointed it in her direction for a moment before shoving it in his mouth, “You have too much faith in me.”

“Oh, now that is pushing it,” She said flipping one of the pastries onto a plate before turning to face him as she poured more batter on the hot plate, “Would you please just cut some strawberries and stuff?”

Although it wasn’t without complaints, sure enough, they were working side by side. Lina flipping pancakes and Matt cutting strawberries into quarters as they quietly spoke about their weeks, catching each other up on their respective TV shows.

“You know this is what I miss the most.” Lina hummed in question at his statement, only slightly inclining her head in his direction, “I miss just having someone to talk to. To exist with. To be with.”

Silence flooded through the pair as her head turned towards him as he continued chopping the fruit, a bittersweet smile on his face. She took a deep breath as she felt a wave of emotion flood through her as his words processed in her head. Her hand was on the dial, turning the heat off and placing the spatula down. Her words came out as an unsteady breath as she turned fully towards him. “Oh Mat…”

“I know I’ve already talked you to death about … that situation but –“ Mat lowered the knife but still made no effort to look in her direction and shook his head slightly before huffing out a quiet laugh, “It’s not just that you didn’t treat me like I could break but the time we spent together, the conversations we had. It almost felt like having someone again. Except this time, it was in the shape of friend – someone I can’t lose. Until I kept getting to know how wonderful you are.”

The words to comfort the man in front of her were proving difficult to come by so Lina simply stepped towards him and did the only thing she could think of, wrapped her arms around him. With one arm around his back and the other holding onto his arm, she laid her head on his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve done the whole break up thing before I don’t know why this time it was difficult. I guess I got too comfortable with the wrong person, I don’t know but I know it was wrong now. I knew it was wrong the moment I had coffee with you for the first time because you made me feel more heard and all you were doing was entertaining a customer who wouldn’t leave your store.” She couldn’t help the laugh that left her, giving him a whole-body nudge and shaking her head as it pressed against his bicep muttering a soft ‘not true’.

Lina felt Mat’s head move to look towards her, moving her own to look up at him but keeping him in her soft hug. She would never admit it to him, considering the subconscious promise she made to herself upon finding out he was still working through his breakup. Their eyes met and he couldn’t help the smile that floated onto his lips until a little embarrassment covered his face, “Sydney didn’t tell me to come and collect Win’s treats, I just hoped if I turned up, I wouldn’t have to share your attention with your customers.”

“I’ve told you before Mathew you never have to be jealous of customers taking me away from you. I’ll always be there for you,” She muttered, pulling away before turning him until they were chest to chest, “I know we joke but I truly will always be there for you. Maybe covered in icing but always there.”

“And I you,” At his words, she wrapped her arms around his neck giving him a proper hug.

Inhaling deeply, she felt him do the same as his arms wrapped firmly around her trapping her between them, not that she was complaining. Her mind rushed through the past couple weeks of her life since meeting the man and she couldn’t believe just how close and open she had got with him. There were people she’d met during culinary school and knew for 4 years and worked with in Boston for 3 years who didn’t know as much about who she was outside of the kitchen as Mat did, and she’d barely known him for a couple months.

He had an interest in getting to know her and just wanted to sit and speak with her, whether or not he had his own ulterior motives for appreciating her company, they bonded. They spent a lot of time together doing nothing more than talking in their own little world. Lina would go as far as to say that she knew him and not just superficially but at a much deeper level and she could entirely feel what he was saying about how being with her feels because she felt the exact same way. Releasing him from her hold, she was suspended on her toes as Mat took a little longer to pull his arms away. She laughed softly, keeping her hands perched on his shoulders as she looked up at him with a soft and gentle smile.

“You bring me peace too,” She whispered, letting out a breath as she steeled herself to admit her truth to him, something that she’d become very comfortable with so what did she have to lose this time, “I love being your someone, because you’re my someone.”

If Mat was smiling before, the smile that took over her face at her words was rivalling the sun. A deep sigh left his mouth, and it was almost like all the tension that had filled his body since he started speaking had been loosened instantly. His shoulder dropped as the tension fell away and his hands found hers up on his shoulders, holding them tight between them. He went to speak but a shout of ‘LiLi’ filled both of their ears from the living room. Touching his forehead against hers, they both laughed gently as the shouts got closer and more frequently. Pushing back up on her toes, Lina pressed a firm kiss to his cheek before pulling away. Giving him one last peck on the cheek before she properly pulled away.

“Later?” He simply smiled at her question as the sound of small footfalls got closer.

“Later.”

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alilove1998 · 13 days

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Won’t Go Slowly - Epilogue

A/N: Thank you all SO SO much for sticking with me. I have a lot of emotions about this one, and I’m so glad I could finish this story. I apologize in advance for any errors - I’ll likely have to correct things later, but I wanted to get this up!

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen// Twenty // Twenty One // Twenty Two // Twenty Three // Twenty Four// Twenty Five // Twenty Six // Twenty Seven // Twenty Eight // Twenty Nine // Thirty // Thirty One // Thirty Two // Thirty Three // Thirty Four// Thirty Five // Thirty Six // Thirty Seven // Thirty Eight // Thirty Nine // Forty // Forty One // Forty Two // Forty Three // Forty Four // Forty Five // Forty Six // Forty Seven // Forty Eight // Forty Nine // Fifty // Fifty One // Fifty Two // Fifty Three // Fifty Four // Fifty Five // Fifty Six // Fifty Seven // Fifty Eight // Fifty Nine // Sixty// Sixty One // Sixty // Sixty One // Sixty Two // Sixty Three// Sixty Four// Sixty Five // Sixty Six // Sixty Seven // Sixty Eight// Sixty Nine

Just when you thought it might stop, it started again, and you wracked your brain, trying to identify just where it was coming from and what it might be.

“What is that?” You asked into the dark, not even needing to move to check if Tyler was awake. That’s your kid,“ he said, your eyebrows furrowing as you listened.

"Are you sure it’s not one of the dogs?”

Tyler rolled over on his side to face you, his eyebrows raised as if to gesture towards the fact that all the dogs were in the room with you. “Your kid,” he repeated as if he needed to clarify.

You sighed, pushing yourself up off the bed, Marshall looking at you like you’d disturbed him.

“I’ll go,” Tyler said, pushing his arm between yours. “If you go, he’s gonna get too hyped.”

Still, you sat up a little anyway, knowing that Bentley had been great about being in bed in Dallas but seemed a little confused about the rules here. Tyler gave you a look and you shifted, occupying yourself with petting the dogs as he headed out of the room.

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alilove1998 · 13 days

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Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin Series - Masterlist

Notes: After a bad breakup with Tyler, the two of you run into each other, though not out of coincidence. Can you forgive what he’s done? Will the two of you find your happily ever after?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 22.5 Part 23 Part 24

Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32

Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40

Part 41 Part 42

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alilove1998 · 13 days

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spending your senior year of college as an intern for the dallas stars, shadowing their athletic training staff was a dream come true. it allowed you to get an idea of what working in a professional sports league would be like, you got to spend time with your older brother– the dallas stars captain– and wrap up your required hours for your degree easily with no dread, unlike a lot of your friends. from grunt work to taping ankles and helping with stretches– there was nothing you didn’t enjoy doing, because at the end of the day, not only were you getting some experience under your belt, but you were also entertained by the shenanigans of the men who played for the chaotic team. along for the ride, is your older brother’s best friend and notorious dallas tattooed man-child– tyler seguin. the same guy who’s teasing remarks and childlike attitude you’ve pushed aside for years, seeing him as nothing more than your older brothers best friend. until, thanks to your internship, you find yourself hanging around him more than usual and surprisingly enjoying his company– finding some solace in his presence. the more you hang out, the closer you become to the rumored playboy, which brings some unknown feelings to light as you discover that there just might be more to him than the reputation left in his wake. but there’s always complications with things that feel as right as this– and yours happens to come in the form of a 6'2" big brother who isn’t too keen on his best friend and younger sister being anything more than friends, and tyler, whose stuck to choose between losing his best friend or you.

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alilove1998 · 13 days

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a/n: my @wyattjohnston winter fic exchange fic for @senditcolton (whose writing i am OBSSESSED with - praise you like i should made me see the light on matty t) 🥰 i’ve never written for tyler seguin and my only familiarity with him was him showing his own headshot to get into the arena which immediately made me love him lol. i had fun writing this one and i hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 12.1k

tw: drinking , fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, hangovers, mild cursing

summary: new year’s eve in las vegas gets out of hand when you meet tyler, a gorgeous stranger in the club

After your divorce papers are signed, sealed, and delivered - on Christmas day no less, leave it to your jackass ex to find the only lawyer in the entire Fort Worth area willing to work on a national fucking holiday - your best friends appear at your front door with suitcases, bottles of champagne, and round trip tickets to Las Vegas, leaving on the 27th.

“No,” you tell them flatly, arms crossed over your flannel shirt, hair in a three-day old knot on top of your head. “I’m not in the mood to go anywhere, much less Vegas.”

You hadn’t even taken your parents up on the offer to pay for a plane ticket back home to New York for the holidays. It was too much to face them after your marriage had imploded and getting the third degree from your relatives wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. Spending the holidays alone had seemed like a better option, even if the day had been a little lonely. But a spiked hot chocolate and a string of Christmas movie classics had kept you from getting too depressed.

“Honey,” Nora says, in her Christmas sweat set, the cartoon Grinch blazoned across the front giving you a nasty smirk, a patient smile on her face, “now is exactly the time to get away. You just shed a hundred seventy five pounds of jackass, you need a distraction.”

She muscles past you and nearly drags her rolling suitcase’s wheels over your bare toes. You pull your foot back and lean against the wall as Katie and Nic follow her inside, a makeshift parade to celebrate your divorce. Nic at least has the decency to shoot you an apologetic look as she passes, whispering, “I tried to get her to settle for a little trip to a spa, you know, manis, pedis, massage. But you know Nora…”

“Never Takes No for an Answer Nora,” you finish when Nic trails off, smiling a little despite yourself. Nic gives you a little smile and bumps your hip with hers.

“Seriously though,” she says as you close the door behind her, “if you really don’t want to go, Nor will understand.”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, I…it’s probably good for me to get out of town,” you admit reluctantly. It’s been a depressing few months, full of anger and tears and tense phone calls and curt emails. You’re tired of being sad, of being angry, but mostly you’re tired of being in the same city as your asshole ex-husband. Even though you moved out of the house you shared and into an apartment, the entire city holds reminders of your relationship. Now that the divorce is official, you’re starting to wonder if staying in Fort Worth is the right move. Your friends and your job are here, but the risk of running into Jason is astronomically high and maybe a change of scenery would be good. You rub at your forehead - that’s a problem for the new year.

The girls leave their suitcases in a pile in your front hall. Two pairs of Nikes and a pair of Ugg platforms join the suitcases and you’re pulled into a pile on your couch - the college tradition for a broken relationship. Back then it had been cheap wine coolers and binge watching The Bachelor. Now, Nora hands you a bottle of champagne, cheers when you pop the cork, and drops her head to your shoulder after you take a huge gulp. You drape your legs over Katie’s lap and rest your cheek on the top of Nora’s head. It’s not the way you thought you’d be spending the holidays, but you’re so grateful for your friends.

“In about an hour, we’re going to start helping you pack,” Nora says, taking the second bottle of champagne from Nic and swigging from it. “But right now, it’s time to tell us every single negative thought you’ve had about Jackass Jason and didn’t want to say before.“

“Have to cleanse the energy,” Nic says, “by putting all his negative traits into the air and I’ll light some sage.”

“Sage?” You lift an eyebrow, warm and cozy in the cocoon of your friends.

Nic digs into her giant purse and pulls out a wad of sage, tied up with white string. She beams. “Sage! It’s very cleansing.”

Katie cackles a laugh. She kicks Nic’s thigh lightly and grins, “never change those hippie ways, Nicky.”

“Pass me a lighter,” Nic holds out her free hand and wiggles her fingers. Nora drops a well used plastic Bic onto her palm and you lean in to cup your hands under the sage bundle. The last thing you want is ashy smudges on your couch.

It takes two tries, but eventually Nic manages to get the lighter to catch and she holds the flame to the top of the bundle. It immediately starts to smell of the burning herb and smoke rises to the ceiling when she blows out the small fire. You cough a little, the scent of sage stinging your nose. Nic rolls off the couch and begins to wave the stick around, explaining what she’s doing as she goes.

“So, we’re getting rid of all of Jason’s negative energy and karma,” she waves the stick and you wince when a little clump of ashes falls to the carpet and then sigh when Nic’s bare foot grinds them further into the fibers.

“Jason never lived here,” you point out reasonably, the bottle of champagne lighter in your hand as you take another drink. Your chest already feels lighter and less knotted with grief and anxiety.

Nic looks at you like you’re an idiot and you feel strangely chastened, taking another swig from the bottle. “Honey, his negative energy and toxicity was absorbed by you and all the stuff you took from the house. We have to just, like, get his energy out of here.” She cocks her head at you, squints, asks, “would you consider cutting your hair? Hair holds onto a lot of trauma.”

“No!” You yelp, hand flying up to clutch at the knotted mess on top of your head. “I thought you were the ones to talk me out of breakup bangs when he first left? Now I’m supposed to cut my hair?”

“Just a suggestion,” she says, even as the other two chime in from the couch to encourage a change in your hairstyle. Nora mentions a bob and you resist the urge to kick her.

With a roll of your eyes, you say firmly, “I’m not cutting my hair. Let’s move on from this.”

Nic nods and finishes sageing the apartment, leaving a faint haze of smoke in the air and you’re honestly very grateful when she puts the bundle in a ziploc bag and stashes it back in her purse. “Okay,” she beams, dusting off her hands, “bad energy officially cleansed. We can move onto the fun part!” She drinks from the bottle that you’ve mostly emptied on your own and before you can ask what the fun part is, you’re being pushed into your bedroom and the girls are rummaging in your closet for your suitcase.

They work in coordination, while you’re sitting stupid in the middle of your bed, to throw your skimpiest clothes into the opened suitcase. You watch as a colourful array of fabric is tossed from your drawers and wonder what, exactly, they have planned for the trip.

“This one, for sure,” Katie’s voice is muffled from deep in your closet. Her hand appears, the mirrored minidress you bought and wore for the Eras Tour swinging from its hanger. The mirrors sparkle under the hi-hats in your room and throw discs of light onto your bedroom walls.

“What are we doing in Vegas?” You ask finally, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I mean, I love that dress, but can’t this just be a chill trip? Like what if we just got tickets to see Adele? And I can cry to her music?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora shakes her head and Katie shakes the dress at you again. “We’re going to get you to forget about the jackass and the divorce one way or another. Whether it’s drinks or dick, that’s your choice, but you deserve to let loose after taking care of him all these years.”

“Besides,” Katie pipes up, “how good do you think we are that we could get last minute Adele tickets? That shit was sold out months ago!”

Tears prickle at your eyes, your nose burning a little. Divorced at 27 isn’t exactly how you pictured your life going after meeting Jason in college, getting married at 22, and supporting him all throughout his time in law school, but you’re beyond grateful for your girls.

“No dick,” you murmur, a shaky smile on your face. “I’m not ready for that, but drinks I can do.”

The trio cheers and starts tossing more clothes into your suitcase.

——

The next day is spent nursing your mild hangover and repacking the drunken mess you’d all made of your suitcase the night before. Once you’re packed to your satisfaction - mirrored mini dress and platform heels included - you run out for a quick wax before meeting the girls for a manicure.

“I meant to say it last night,” you say watching your crusty old gel polish disappear into dust, “but let me know what I owe you, for the flight and hotel and everything. I’ll Venmo you.”

Nora waves you off, apologising quickly to the manicurist when she complains as Nora’s hand is ripped away. “Don’t even worry about that. I used miles for the flights and -“

“The guy I’ve been seeing?” Nic cuts in. “The hedge fund guy, Mark, he’s treating for the hotel suite.”

Katie’s eyebrows shoot up along with yours. Clearly she didn’t know about the hotel connect. “Whoa,” she grins, “Nicky with the high roller! Hold onto him with two hands.”

Nic blushes. “He’s really sweet too.” She continues talking about him for a few minutes until she stops herself and looks at you with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Here I am rambling on and you’re going through -“

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You cut her off. “I’m okay! I want to hear about the guys you’re dating. Just because I’m single again doesn’t mean I want death to love for everyone.” You snort a laugh that sounds a little forced even to your own ears. The girls share a look that you hate, but continue talking about the dates they’ve been on and the mediocre sex they’ve been having. Truthfully, you tune them out a little bit, cranky about the divorce, about the trip that was sprung on you, and embarrassingly enough, jealous that they’re having sex at all.

Even before Jason started the divorce proceedings six months ago, it had been nearly eight months before that the last time you had sex. You should’ve realized he was seeing someone else on the side because there was no way he had gone that long without sex. And yet. You’d been caught off guard by the cliched texts found in his phone, the lacy thong found in his car, and the divorce petition delivered to you while he was “working late.” Thinking back on it, you feel supremely stupid.

Now that the paperwork is signed and you’re officially, legally single again, you’re just glad you didn’t have kids or anything really significant to fight over. It’s almost a blessing that the process wasn’t as drawn out as it could’ve been.

You make a conscious effort to push all thoughts of Jason from your mind and try to be in the moment, a task made easier once you’re in the air en route to Vegas and then actually in the city itself. It’s both like the movies and not, colorful and loud and a little sketchy. But you immediately make twenty bucks on a slot machine in the airport, so you figure that’s a good omen for the trip.

The first four days of the trip pass in a blur - all you can eat buffets, drinking, dancing, spas, too little sleep, and too much gambling. You’re up nearly three hundred dollars after being down almost a thousand the day before, so that’s cause to celebrate with drinks. Not that you really need an excuse - you’ve had more alcohol in the last four days than in the last four months. You’re exhausted, but you’ve also laughed more than you have in a year and your face hurts from smiling. The entire city has a numbing effect on your lingering emotions and you feel yourself starting to rediscover who you were before the Jason of it all.

“Time for the mirrorball dress!” Nora singsongs, dancing around the suite in her plush robe. It’s New Year’s Eve and the city feels even sparklier than usual. The streets have been packed with people and the casinos are at capacity - apparently there’s a hockey game tonight too, so the sports bettors are having a field day. You’ve been going to different hotel bars and clubs the past few nights, but tonight is the big night out before you fly back to Texas tomorrow night.

The entire Strip is shut down to traffic for the night and you’re planning on going to TAO for dinner and dancing since it’s inside the Venitian, where you’re staying. It’s a major splurge, but fuck it, you’re about to get alimony from your corporate lawyer ex-husband. You still have Jason’s credit card, so you’re fully planning on putting dinner on his tab, before he realizes that the card is in your possession. For all the little details Jason remembers, he’s surprisingly bad about his finances.

For now though, you dig your hand into the pillowcase that had been full of the little shot sized bottles of alcohol four days ago and is now mostly empty. You groan when you pull out a little bottle of Pink Whitney, the pink lemonade vodka is your least favorite drink. You knock back the shot while the girls cheer you on, all three of them already in various states of tipsy. It honestly feels like you haven’t been completely sober since you left Texas.

Nic blasts a classic 2000s playlist while you’re getting ready and you dance around the huge suite, feeling light and floaty.

It’s complete chaos out on the Strip, even though it’s barely after 7. You could’ve gotten to the restaurant directly through the hotel, but you decide to walk outside for a bit to see what’s happening. It’s chillier than you expected, so by the time you get to the restaurant, you’re more than ready for a drink and dinner. You fill up on sushi and expensive drinks, gossiping about people you knew in college, spilling some more of the more extreme details of Jason’s cheating when you’re finished with your third TAO-tini.

“FUCK HIM!” Katie shouts in the middle of the restaurant, drawing attention to your table. You giggle and shush her drunkenly, waving a hand to get her to lower her voice. “No,” she shakes her head, only marginally quieter, “you really are so much better than that douche. When we get downstairs, we’re finding a man and you’re fucking him!”

Nic giggles and leans a little sideways in her seat, “new dick to cleanse Jackass Jason from your vagina!”

You flush with embarrassment as more people look over, but thank god the waiter comes by with the check. You toss Jason’s platinum AmEx onto the little dish and grin wickedly as you tell the girls, “dinner was on Jason.” They cheer and Nora laughs, “I should’ve ordered another drink!”

Once the bill is paid, with a generous 30% tip added, you traipse downstairs into the club part of the restaurant. The lights are low and the music is loud, plenty of people already drunkenly dancing just three hours before midnight. Nic and Nora join the fray immediately while you and Katie detour off to the bathroom quickly where you fix up your makeup and fluff up your hair, inspecting your face in the mirror. You look tired, but there’s a spark in your eyes that you hadn’t noticed was missing in the last year of your relationship with Jason.

“I’m serious,” Katie says, her solemn tone betrayed by the slight slur to her ‘s’. “Pick a guy in here and I will make sure you fuck him. You deserve a little fun.”

“I have been having fun,” you assure her, your reflection grinning at hers. The alcohol is making your brain pleasantly fuzzy, thoughts drifting away as easily as they come. “I don’t need a man right now,” you continue. “Even for the night. I just want to dance.”

“Okay!” Katie chirps, grabbing your hand and pulling you back out into the club. “Let’s dance!”

And you do. You find Nic and Nora and for a handful of songs, the four of you are jumping and screaming and having a blast.

Sweaty and thirsty, you break off from the girls and wobble towards the bar, weaving in between the throngs of people. The line for the bar is two or three people deep, so you settle in for a wait, looking around the room and people watching. The crowd seems pretty typical for New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, but your gaze lands on a group of men and your heart skips a beat.

There’s at least four of them huddled together, maybe five, and you know you’re drunk, but you didn’t think you were drunk enough to be seeing double. You blink and they come into sharper focus - not seeing double, just two incredibly handsome, dark haired and bearded men. Another dark haired man with no beard and a curly haired blond man. They’re all in slacks and white button downs in various states of unbuttoned, like they came from the office or something. They don’t look out of place in the club though, with drinks in their hands and the way they’re grouped together.

They’re laughing and shoving at each other, like overgrown frat boys, and you can’t look away. You’re captivated by the way they hold themselves, clearly confident in their bodies. Even in the dark of the club, you can see the faint outlines of ink through the white fabric of one of the guys’ shirts.

You’re still staring like a creep when the tattooed guy turns and looks directly at you, making and holding eye contact. A little gasp slips from your lips and your stomach flips, the familiar and nearly forgotten feeling of arousal sparking to life in your stomach. His friends shove at his arms, laughing. You blink and look away, feeling shaky and not from the alcohol. A faint flutter between your legs has you pressing your thighs together. “This is stupid,” you mutter to yourself. Ten seconds of eye contact shouldn’t have had you reacting like this. Yes, it had been a while since you last had sex, but jeez.

You rub your fingers over the bridge of your nose and nearly jump out of your skin when a deep, unfamiliar voice says, “what are you drinking?” right in your ear.

“Oh!” You turn, stumbling just enough that a hand shoots out and grips your elbow to steady you. A warm, broad hand. Attached to a tanned, tattooed forearm. Attached to a broad chest barely covered by an obscenely unbuttoned white shirt - tattoos and chest hair exposed and making your body react. Attached to the dark haired man you had made eye contact with. You blink up into warm brown eyes and ignore the way your stomach clenches up. His thumb brushes against the inside of your elbow and your skin feels like it’s on fire.

His mouth, full lower lip and thinner upper lip surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, quirks up at the corner. “In case I wasn’t clear,” he says and you can hear the laughter in his tone, “can I buy you a drink?”

A faint smile touches your own lips and you nod. “Double vodka cranberry,” you say, voice a little raspy from screaming along to the music.

Mystery Man nods, smiling, “good choice. Come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand down your forearm and laces his fingers with yours to pull you behind him while he uses his broad shoulders to muscle past the crowd around the bar. When you reach the bar, he does a quick maneuver, dragging you in front of him so you’re sandwiched between the bar and his chest, heat pouring off his body. He leans forward a bit, pressing against you, and catches the bartender’s attention. Your entire body feels too warm, the thin fabric of your thong growing damp from the solid mass of his chest against your back.

“Double vodka cranberry for the lady,” he orders. “And double scotch on the rocks for me.”

His forearms come to rest on the bar top, trapping you in the circle of his arms. The alcohol is lowering your inhibitions and your intrusive thoughts win out and you arch your back a little, pressing your ass into his crotch, turning your head to look back at him. He wears a shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t usually let strangers buy me drinks,” you say, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t feel like a threat, doesn’t feel like someone you should be afraid of. You lean a little closer to him, something crackling in the air between your bodies.

Something flitters across his expression, but you’re just this side of drunk and can’t manage to identify it before it’s gone. “Tyler,” he introduces himself, trailing a finger over your arm and up to your shoulder where he plays with the thin silver strap holding your dress in place. “Not a stranger now.” Goosebumps lift on your arms as his fingertip twists in the skimpy strap. His gaze is searing, flickering from your eyes to your lips to the hint of cleavage exposed by the draping of your dress. Your nipples tighten under the fabric, pinching almost painfully.

You offer up your own name in return, taking the drink directly from the bartender when he returns. You sip at it and it tastes stronger than a double or maybe that’s just Tyler’s proximity that’s clouding your senses.

He takes a sip of his own drink and leads you away from the bar, giving you another opportunity to watch his back muscles move under his shirt as he works his way through the crowd. A gym rat, you think, with the way he’s all lean muscle and quiet strength. He’s muscled, but not disgustingly so.

“What are you doing in Vegas?” He asks, when you’re alone again, just off to the side of the bar. You can see the girls out of the corner of your eye, staring at you with matching ‘you go, girl!’ expressions on their faces. You giggle a little.

“Celebrating,” you reply vaguely, taking a sip of your drink and fluttering your lashes. You’re flirting, you realize. You haven’t flirted with anyone since Jason. The bubbly feeling in your chest expands and you smile up at him.

“Huh,” he laughs warmly, “what do you know, me too. And the only thing my night was missing is a pretty girl.”

Alcohol fuels your confidence, along with the hungry way Tyler’s gaze takes in your body, and you reply, “good thing you found me then.”

Your gaze lingers on the notch of his collarbone, the dusting of hair over his chest, the dark lines of his tattoos. Your cunt gives an enthusiastic throb and you swallow heavily.

Tyler leans in a little and you catch a whiff of spicy cologne mixed with the scotch on his breath. This isn’t his first drink of the night either. “Would your friends mind if I monopolized your time tonight?”

Biting your lip, you look over at the girls. Katie is moving her hand near her mouth in the universal sign for blowjob and Nic is giving you the biggest, most encouraging puppy dog eyes. Nora flashes you a double thumbs up, spilling some of her drink in the process. A laugh huffs through your nose and you look back up at Tyler, “no, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Good,” his smile is adorable, his hand lands on your waist, and you completely forget why you told Katie you weren’t interested in a hook up tonight. “Want to dance?”

You’re not quite sure how it happened - one minute you were dancing with Tyler, one of his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hips gyrated against his pelvis, the hard bulge of his cock obvious every time you moved and the next minute you found yourself pressed up against a wall in the VIP section of TAO, with Tyler’s tongue deep down your throat and his hand sliding up the side of your thigh, fingertips playing at the hem of your dress. Your hands are fisted around the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close as you can while you moan into his mouth and cant your hips towards his, spreading your legs a little to encourage his hand’s exploration.

His fingertips make contact with the soaked fabric of your thong and you whimper, knees going weak. Tyler’s lips turn up in a smile against yours and he uses more pressure, finding your clit easily through the fabric until you have to pull back and gasp for air, your head thrown back while you pant.

“Jesus, baby,” he mutters, kissing a trail down your jaw and over your throat. “You’re fucking soaked.” He sucks gently at your pulse point, your heart hammering in your chest.

He slips his fingers under the fabric, rough pads of his fingers catching against your slick folds. “Oh my god,” you mutter, grinding against his fingers. “More, please, Tyler.”

He obeys, thumb catching on your clit and middle finger teasing at your entrance before sliding inside easily. A whine catches in your throat and it feels so good, too good. Between the alcohol and the lust and the months long celibacy, you’re at the edge of an orgasm in less than a minute, dripping around Tyler’s fingers before you can even process that you’ve come. White spots dance in your vision and it could be the strobe lights or the searing pleasure from having your clit rolled between Tyler’s thick fingers.

“Good girl,” he grins against your neck, beard and teeth scraping against your skin. Your face already feels rubbed raw with beard burn, but you don’t want him to stop. “Think you can do it again?”

Truthfully you think that you’re so worked up and horny you could come just from Tyler looking at you, but you nod and squeak out a yes.

Tyler bites a mark against your collarbone and drops to his knees, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and forcing them apart. He looks up at you from between your legs, dark eyes even darker with lust and a wicked grin on his face, “hold on, baby, gonna make you see fireworks for the New Year.”

You laugh at the corny line, choking off into a prolonged moan when he buries his face between your legs and presses his tongue flat against your cunt, the wet heat of his tongue pressing your damp thong into your sensitive clit.

You’re beyond thankful for the darkness of the VIP area and the loud music because you can’t contain the noises that Tyler’s drawing from your mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair - fuck, it’s so soft - and hold his face up against your cunt. The other hand reaches blindly for the magnum bottle of champagne you’d been sharing. Technically it’s the second bottle and it’s more than half gone when you tip it up to your mouth for a drink.

“I - ah! I don’t usually doooooh my god, right there - this,” you gasp, writhing over Tyler’s face. His nose is pressed against your clit and his tongue is flat against you, licking with purpose. You grind against his face, making sure the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“What,” he pulls back with a wicked grin that only grows when you whine and try to push him back in place with your grip on his hair, “get your pussy licked?”

The bottom half of his face is glistening in the strobe lights and you feel the blush rise on your chest knowing that your body did that to him.

“Um, yes,” you admit quietly, “and the whole, uh, stranger in a club thing too.”

His smile turns a little soft, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Happy to be your first then,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and lifts your leg so it’s draped over his shoulder and you’re spread even wider for him. You’re impossibly exposed to him and all it does is make you wetter. Tyler tilts his head back a little and opens his mouth, you instinctively pour some champagne into his mouth, the both of you laughing when it splatters onto his face and shirt, making the white fabric nearly see-through. He wipes a little at his face, fingers scraping at his beard, and he shrugs. “Was gonna get all wet and messy anyway.”

He holds his champagne covered fingers up to your face and you lick at his skin, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and letting them rest on your tongue for a moment before he pushes them a little further past your lips, until saliva is dripping down his palm.

Tyler’s head is back between your legs, a strong hang gripping at your thigh, his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucks at the swollen bud and your leg kicks out, the heel of your platform smacking against his back with an audible thunking noise. He grunts into you and you moan an apology, his fingers falling out of your mouth so you can take another gulp of champagne. The bubbles fizz on your tongue and burn going down.

He buries his wet fingers into your cunt, curling and pumping, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Not that anyone would hear you with how loud the music is in the club. You grind your hips against Tyler’s face and feel him smile, the coarse hair on his face scratching against your inner thighs when you subconsciously try to close your legs around his ears.

“Gonna kill me,” he pulls back and mutters, nipping at the junction of your thigh. You jolt when his hands squeeze at your asscheeks, the scrape of the sequins on your dress adding more overwhelming sensation. He adjusts your thigh over his shoulder, his other hand trailing down your leg and wrapping around your ankle. He pulls back a little and you whine at the loss of sensation. “I like these,” he says, his fingers tapping against the sparkle of your platforms. “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.”

You laugh, about to deny that this is going any further than the club, when his mouth is back on your cunt, tongue stiff and warm as he licks at your clit. All thoughts are gone from your head, aware only of the pleasure Tyler’s giving you. His hands are all over your body, fidgeting from your thighs to your ass and back again, calloused fingertips ghosting over your skin and making you shiver.

You close your eyes against the pleasure building in your body, tears pooling at your waterline. How the fuck did you go this long in life without realizing that you’ve never had a satisfying orgasm? And some random, gorgeous man in a club in Vegas is the one to satisfy you over and over? It’s a shame this is a one night thing.

—-

Sunlight streams in through the windows and you screw your eyes shut tighter, nausea rolling your stomach even though you haven’t moved. It’s like an ice pick is stabbed into your temple, the throbbing somewhere deep in your brain a harsh reminder that you’re not 21 and immune to hangovers anymore.

You press your lips together and lift your hand to rub at your temple, trying to keep your movements as slow as possible so you don’t vomit. Something hard and sharp knocks against your brow bone and you crack one eye open to see what the hell it could possibly be since you don’t remember putting any jewelry on last night. A huge twinkly diamond ring stares back at you from your finger.

The ring finger.

The left ring finger.

…fuck

Your eyes fly open and you ignore the wave of nausea and shooting headache to look around the hotel room. The unfamiliar hotel room. The sheets slide down your chest, exposing you to cold air and making you shiver. Your nipples pebble from the cold and you look down, eyes widening at the little bruises and bite marks scattered over your chest and stomach. You’re naked under the sheets save for a pair of black boxer-briefs looped around one thigh, like you tried to put them on last night and got tired halfway. The fabric is soft and worn and they’re absolutely not your underwear.

“Fuck!” You yelp, gaze landing on Tyler’s prone form in the bed next to you. He’s flat on his back, one arm thrown over his face, the other out to his side with his fingers curled in your direction. “Oh my god!”

His chest is bare, tattoos a stark contrast against the white sheets and his tan skin. He’s got purpling bruises on his chest and stomach too, marks that you must’ve left on him. Marks that make a trail from his collarbone over his pecs, down his stomach, barely hidden by the sheet that rides low over his lap.

If you’re half wearing his briefs, he’s definitely completely naked from the waist down too. Before you can comprehend the thought, you wonder if you left marks lower on his body too.

Your head is moving around like it’s on a swivel, taking in all the details of the room that you’re pretty sure is Tyler’s. There’s a black suitcase in the corner and your dress is a shiny pile on the floor. Your thong tossed over the lampshade on the bedside table. You can’t find your shoes, until you notice them at the foot of the giant bed, left in a haphazard pile and you remember, faintly, Tyler’s words from last night - “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.” They look like they were discarded in a rush, one ankle strap not even fully pulled from its buckle. His clothes are everywhere, tossed in a trail from the door that speaks to how fast you were trying to get him naked.

The hangover is clouding your brain, making it feel like your head is stuffed with cotton, and you haven’t even begun to consider what the ring on your finger means. Maybe it was just a joke? It had to have been a joke.

Tyler shifts, grunting a little in his sleep, and reaches his hand out in your direction like he’s trying to find your body. His movement startles you.

“Ah, fuck!” You yelp, scrambling out of the bed, legs all tangled in the sheets. The briefs slip down your leg and tangle around your ankle. You kick your leg wildly, the black fabric going sailing across the room with the force of your kick. Frantically, you yank at one of the blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed and wrap it around yourself like a toga. Your hands shake a little.

Tyler stirs and blinks sleepily, stretching his arms over his head, giving you a show with how the black ink of his tattoos move. His gaze is unfocused when his eyes finally open, landing on your blanket-wrapped form. A slow smile graces his lips and he rasps, “hey, morning.” There’s a smudge of your dark lipstick on his cheek, partially hidden by his beard. A bruise is sucked into the underside of his bearded jaw and you notice, for the first time, the ragged red nail marks on his shoulders and biceps. He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal - and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize that feral animal had to have been you.

You can’t even find words, mouth gaping open and shut at him like a fish. Now that you’re standing, you finally stop for a second to take stock of your own body. Sticky between the thighs, sore like you’ve never been sore before - in a pleasant, well taken care of way. Your inner thighs feel raw and you know that when you look later, you’re going to find beard burn on the sensitive skin. You can already feel it on your chin and cheeks.

“What is this?” You hold your left hand out to him, the gaudy ring - because now that you’ve gotten a better look at it, it’s not a real diamond, thank god. It’s cubic zirconia or something cloudier than a real diamond and it’s a huge oval, spanning the entirety of your knuckle - glinting in the early morning sunlight.

Tyler squints at you, rolling onto his side before sitting up, either unaware or unconcerned that he’s completely naked and the sheet pools low enough in his lap that you can see the trail of dark hair leading down to his dick and the hair at the very base of him. You try to keep your eyes from looking, but he reaches a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck, making his bicep pop and the sheet move around and you’re only a woman, you can’t help yourself from looking. Your clit throbs between your legs, clearly remembering what happened last night even if most of it after getting eaten out in TAO is a little fuzzy to your brain.

“It’s a ring,” he replies simply, looking like his brain is trying to come back on-line too. He shifts his hand and his eyebrows lift. “Oh, shit. I’ve got one too.”

Your gaze lands on the band on his left ring finger. It’s yellow gold, or something cheap that looks like yellow gold, and you hate that your immediate thought is that it looks good on him. The band contrasts nicely with his skin and he spins it with his thumb, your eyes tracking the rotation.

A little chuckle slips past his lips and you blink at him. He takes in your expression and laughs outright. “Come on, you can’t possibly think we what? Got married last night?” His laugh is warm and too familiar for someone you’ve known less than twelve hours. “That’s a Vegas cliché if I’ve ever heard one.”

You shake your head. “Right, no. Yeah, I’m just being stupid. It’s just—“ you hesitate, glancing around the room again, avoiding looking at him, noticing the - oh god - four condom wrappers discarded on the floor. No wonder you’re so sore. The tenting of the sheet in his lap isn’t doing much to hide his morning wood, the shape of him obvious even with the quick little glances you’ve been sneaking. Four times. It’s a minor miracle that you’re not walking bowlegged.

Tyler stretches again and looks around for something - his clothes, his phone, who knows - while clearly not caring that the sheet is covering next to nothing. “Hey, do you see my phone?” He asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “Just wanna check the time.”

He’s remarkably chill and you’re starting to feel a little crazy for overreacting so much to silly rings bought in a drunken haze. There’s a phone on one of the little decorative tables in the corner of the room and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his, but when you pad across the room to get it, you step on a piece of paper, crumpling it under your heel. Leaning down to pick it up, you fall back on your ass in shock when your eyes land on the words at the top.

Clark County Marriage License

“You okay?” Tyler asks, sounding concerned.

“No,” you manage to squeak out the word around the block in your throat. There in black and white - your name and Tyler’s. Tyler Paul Seguin, apparently, if the document is to be believed. You feel your stomach lurch when you see the date on the license. Last night, New Year’s Eve.

How drunk had you been?

Who the hell had let you get married?

You’re so caught up in the implications of the piece of paper you’re holding that you don’t realize Tyler’s out of bed and squatting next to you, wearing his briefs, thank god.

“Whatcha got - oh,” he cuts himself off, reading the words over your shoulder. “Oh. Shit. Wow.”

He sits down on the floor next to you and you look over at him, eyes wide. “We actually got fucking married in Las Vegas,” you breathe, chest tightening in panic.

“I mean, maybe we didn’t?” He says hopefully. “That’s just a license, doesn’t mean we actually did it.” He taps his fingers absently over one well-muscled thigh, an irregular beat that you somehow sync your breathing to. With a huge effort, you drag your gaze away from his fingers - long and thick and the last you remember, stuffed up your cunt and dragging an orgasm out of your body - and steady your breathing. One hand presses against your chest, fingers digging into your skin like you could reach in and squeeze your heart back into a normal rhythm.

The phone on the tabletop starts buzzing and Tyler reaches up to grab it - “mine,” he says, glancing at the screen and jabs his finger to silence the alarm. He reaches his hand back up on the table and comes back with a handful of Polaroids. He splays them out like a deck of cards and you look at them. “Huh.”

Each picture is blurry as hell, but they’re unmistakably wedding photos. You’ve got a little fluffy veil on. Tyler’s shirt is unbuttoned past is sternum, but tucked neatly into his pants. He’s got you dipped back at the waist, kissing you dramatically. You’re on his back, holding a bouquet of flowers in the air as you kiss his cheek. He’s holding you, chest to chest, one large hand splayed over your bare back, your hand slid underneath his shirt. The Little White Wedding Chapel sign behind you and Tyler in one photo makes what happened last night unavoidable.

“I think we got married,” Tyler states the obvious and you burst into hysterical, gasping laughter. He looks at you, concerned for a beat before starting to laugh himself. It’s not funny at all, but if you don’t laugh, you think you’ll cry.

Once you catch your breath, you hiccup a little noise that sounds like a sob and carefully put the license up on the table. Tyler watches you and then glances back down at his phone, wincing at the time. “So, uh, hate to get married and run, but I have to go,” he taps his phone screen. “I’m on a flight to San Jose in an hour and I really can’t afford to miss that.”

You catch a glimpse of his lock screen and it’s a picture of him cuddling three dogs, which makes you feel marginally better because at least it’s not a woman that he’s cheating on and any man that has his dogs as his phone screen can’t be a total sociopath. A little bit of the knot in your chest unravels.

“San Jose,” you repeat, finally catching onto what he said. “Is that where you live?” You ask the question realizing you know nothing about this man that you’ve married. You didn’t even know his last name until five minutes ago. Oh god. You’re going to have to manage a time difference while filing for divorce. Your thoughts spiral out. Can you even get divorced in a state that’s not Nevada? You should know this, you’re probably the divorce expert in the room. He isn’t giving off divorced man energy, but do you give off divorced woman energy? You hadn’t thought about that and now it’s all you can focus on.

Tyler laughs a little, drawing your attention and stopping your panic attack. “No, thank god. I’m, uh, not to sound conceited,” he says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but you really didn’t recognize me?”

“Should I?” You frown, studying his face. Maybe he looks familiar? But in that way that most dark haired white men look alike. You’re almost positive that you’ve never seen him before.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is awkward. But I play for the Dallas Stars, the hockey team? We played Vegas last night, San Jose tomorrow.”

You cock your head at him, this new information sinking in. Dallas. Just thirty minutes from your place in Fort Worth. You’ve obviously heard of the Stars, you don’t live under a rock, but you’ve never been to a game, never cared about sports enough to learn any of the players’ names. It would be a weird thing to lie about, but - “prove it.”

“Prove it?” Tyler repeats incredulously. You nod. He frowns and looks like he’s trying to make a decision. After a second, he huffs a little laugh to himself and mutters, “well, it already worked once,” before unlocking his phone and typing away on the screen. A second later he holds it up next to his face, a Google search open on the screen. A headshot - Tyler’s headshot in a green jersey - looks back at you. He grins wryly, “proof enough?” The search bar at the bottom of the screen shows that he typed in ‘tyler seguin dallas stars headshot’ and misspelled his own name as ‘tylor’ - you don’t know why, but it makes you bite your lip to smother a laugh. The little typo is endearing.

You look back and forth between the screen and Tyler, long enough that he starts to genuinely laugh. “C’mon,” he teases, putting his phone down on his thigh, “you’re a tougher sell than security at the arena.”

“Okay,” you offer him a tiny smile, “I believe you. I’m just, um, a little overwhelmed. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever done it before either,” he replies, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be on the road for a bit, west coast swing, but if you put your number in my phone, I’ll have my lawyer start working on the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

He coughs a little awkwardly. “The divorce? Or annulment? Divorce though right? ‘Cause we obviously slept together,” he gestures at the condom wrappers, “so we can’t just sweep it under the rug. Like Ross and Rachel in Friends.”

“No!” The word slips out before you can stop it and Tyler frowns.

“We can annul it? My knowledge of ending Vegas weddings is pretty minimal.” He pauses and then as if to reassure you, says, “my knowledge of ending marriages in general is pretty limited too.”

“No,” you chew at your lip, “it’s still a divorce. But, fuck, this is mortifying. A second fucking divorce before I’m even 28. Good fucking job with your life.” You mutter the last bit more to yourself than to Tyler, tears welling up in your eyes. That would be the last thing you need, to tell your family and friends about this whole debacle. Literally a week after your first divorce is finalized, you go out and get married again. Drunkenly. In Las Vegas!

Tyler’s eyebrow lifts and he doesn’t ask the question he so clearly wants to ask. You scrub a hand over your face, nausea returning but you’re not sure if it’s the hangover this time or the way he’s looking at you.

“What if,” he says slowly, studying you carefully for a reaction, “what if, we just…didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” You shift, the floor uncomfortable under your sore ass. The blanket wrapped around your body isn’t the softest and you’re starting to sweat a little despite the cold air pumping into the room. Tyler’s presence next to you is becoming distracting, the movement of his chest muscles, the rasp of his voice. Your body wants more of him.

“Didn’t get divorced…” he tilts his head at you, keeps looking you in the eye, even after your jaw drops and the blanket slips a little. “We could, I don’t know, just -“

“Stay married?” You finish for him, eyebrows up in your hairline. He nods, shrugs - why not? “Oh my god.”

Tyler’s phone vibrates on his thigh and he glances down at the alarm. It reminds you that you have no idea where your own phone is and you really, really need to talk to the girls. He jabs at the alarm again and looks apologetic. “I really do have to go,” he gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull you up. A spark shoots up your arm when his fingers clasp around yours. He doesn’t let go right away, his thumb rubbing against the backs of your fingers. “Think about it,” he looks at you more softly than you think he really should be in this moment. “You said you don’t do this kind of thing,” he continues, “but new year, new you?” The tiny smile he gives you sends your heartbeat into overdrive and this cannot be good for your health.

“Drunk married in Vegas would be a really new me,” you reply faintly. His hand finally falls away from yours and you’re mildly concerned to realize that you miss his touch. Your fingers flex at your side.

His smile doesn’t waver and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair off your cheek, fingertips lingering on your skin. “I’ll be back in Dallas in two weeks. Think about it, I’ll take you to dinner and we can just…go from there.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Strangely enough, you do feel calmer than you had a few moments ago, Tyler’s steady calm rubbing off on you.

“Okay,” you nod, repeating yourself. “Okay. I’ll…two weeks.”

Tyler grins a little wickedly. “At least we know we’re good together in bed,” he teases, kicking at a condom wrapper with his bare foot.

A laugh startles out of your chest and you find yourself nodding in agreement. “I, ah, definitely agree with that,” you murmur, your entire face flaming with heat.

——

One Year Later - New Year’s Eve. Dallas. TX

Tyler greets you at the door, suited up and bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin,” he grins at you.

“Mr. Seguin,” you laugh back, leaning in to loop your arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, nipping at his lower lip. When you pull back, you’re breathless. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

His hands roam up and down your back, catching in the fabric of your sparkly white minidress, sliding up under the hem to knead at the flesh of your ass. He grins wickedly when his hands don’t find any fabric covering your ass. You smirk at him and wink, giggling when he pinches a cheek.

You lean into his touch with a contented purr. If it wouldn’t make you late for your own party, you’d pull him inside the house for a quickie. You’d already had sex this morning - a wedding present, according to Tyler when he’d given you back to back, mind numbing orgasms with his tongue and dick before you’d returned the favor with a blowjob that had rendered him speechless for twenty minutes - but you would never get enough of being in Tyler’s arms.

“Does it count as bad luck if none of the guests know they’re coming to a wedding?” He asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Or a vow renewal, technically.”

The last twelve months have been a little insane and honestly, looking back, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

After getting dressed quickly, Tyler had found your phone wedged in the cushions of the hotel room’s armchair. The battery was nearly drained but your screen was lit up with more than a hundred texts in the group chat with the girls and nearly as many missed calls. When you had finally called back, all three had shrieked that they were twenty minutes away from reporting you missing. You’d kept the little surprise of legally binding matrimony to yourself, but had admitted to the girls that you’d spent the night with Tyler and that he lived in Dallas and that you were going to see where it went. The flight home was full of whispered shrieking and more questions than you had honestly had answers for at the time. The gaudy engagement ring was buried in the bottom of your toiletry case, acting like the tell-tale heart, blood rushing in your head every time you thought about it.

When you got home, you’d shoved the ring in your jewelry box, determined not to think about it, but found yourself absently running the pad of your thumb over the underside of your ring finger when you let your mind wander to Tyler.

After Tyler had returned to Dallas from his two week road trip - during which you’d basically internet stalked him and spiralled out quietly about not filling for a divorce right away - you’d finally decided to give it, give Tyler a chance. He’d texted nearly every day he was gone, sending stupid jokes or a picture of something he thought would amuse you. Worst case scenario, you filed for divorce and went through the process all over again. By the time Tyler took you out for dinner at a quiet dive-y taco place in Fort Worth where you could actually hear each other, both of your memories of the wedding night had returned, although yours were coloured in a hazy film that made the whole thing seem like a fever dream.

The little ceremony had been officiated by an Elvis impersonator, another Vegas cliché, a fact that you’d learned when Tyler had found another Polaroid in his wallet when he was on the plane to San Jose. You’d cracked up when he finally showed it to you in person - Elvis in the middle, clearly past his prime, with you and Tyler on either side of him doing your best air guitar? Maybe?

“I think I’m trying to do an Elvis hip swivel,” Tyler had laughed.

“Whatever it is, it looks like we’re both mid-seizure,” you’d nearly snorted your drink out of your nose. Looking at the photographs was fun now, a little warmth building in the pit of your stomach, not the tight, nauseous coil of anxiety that you’d experienced when you had first seen them.

Other wedding details were still a little hazy, like where you had picked up the rings or what exactly the ceremony had consisted of, beyond being declared man and wife and being told to kiss and cement your “burning love.”

(What you remembered and what Tyler made sure you didn’t forget was just how good you were in bed together. The four condom wrappers on the floor were not an anomaly with Tyler.)

He’d gotten you tickets for games, right up against the glass so he could skate by you during warmups and tap his glove against the glass to capture your attention. After a few games, once you’d decided to really commit to the relationship and were official within your friendship circles, he picked up the habit of blowing you a kiss, grinning when you’d blush.

He’s really good at his job and you’re only a little surprised to find that you actually love watching him play. It’s horrific watching him get hit or tossed into the boards, but when he scores a goal and celebrates in a big hug with his teammates you’re always the first one on your feet, screaming your head off.

You’d brought the girls to a game early on in your relationship and all three of them had been surprised at how comfortable you were in the arena and how quickly you’d picked up the rules of the game. It was hard to explain that you weren’t just trying to make a regular relationship work, but a whole marriage. The stakes were just a little bit higher than usual.

The league had a break for the All-Star Weekend in early February and Tyler had surprised you with a trip to Mexico, where you’d soaked up the sun and gotten to know each other better, giving him all the sordid details about your divorce and sharing stories from your childhoods over icy margaritas and more tacos than your body knew what to do with. He’d told you about his early career, his misbehavior in Boston and how much he loved being in Dallas. The long weekend was slow and lazy, leaving so much time for the two of you to really talk and get to know each other. The experimental sex in a hammock on the beach was the icing on the cake.

After that, it was like a switch flipped and all you wanted to do was be with him. Truthfully, you sometimes forgot that you were thrown into the relationship with a marriage and settled comfortably into dating Tyler, folding each other into your lives, moving in with him, telling him you love him and hearing him say it back, cheering him on when Dallas made it all the way to the Western Conference Finals before being bounced in seven games by, of all teams, the Vegas Golden Knights.

Summer break meant a road trip to Whitby to meet Tyler’s family. A drive that should’ve been two or three days took nearly a week because you kept making random stops to see the silliest monuments advertised on the highways. You’d nearly killed him driving through Illinois, convinced this was the end of the relationship and you’d have to pull the trigger on the divorce, and then he had surprised you by stopping at a corn maze and getting lost in it with you almost immediately. Your stomach had hurt from laughing with him and making out like teenagers.

The trip to his hometown had been beyond fun, getting Tyler to show you his childhood haunts and seeing all the baby pictures of him with his mom telling you stories too.

On the drive back to Dallas, halfway through Oklahoma and in the middle of the night, while you’re pulled over on the side of the road to look at the stars, Tyler asked you to marry him. Again.

This time you had the moment committed to memory, the way Tyler’s hands had been shaking slightly with the black velvet box popped open in his fingers. The way Tyler’s speech rambled, like he hadn’t prepared anything or had forgotten his words just as he started talking, explaining how your relationship had started in an unconventional manner, but he couldn’t picture his life without you now. The way you’d started crying almost the second he had turned to you on the hood of the car with that gorgeous ring glinting at you in the moonlight and how you hadn’t stopped until he’d slid the ring home on your finger and kissed you like he’d never kissed you before.

Over the months, the wedding plan shifts and changes, from a summer wedding so you can have a real ceremony and party, the whole nine yards, to what it actually ends up becoming - a quiet inside joke with the two of you in order to keep your anniversary date, a New Year’s Eve party for your closest family and friends to be surprised at midnight when you and Tyler recite your vows.

It’s much easier to plan a party in six months than it would’ve been to plan a wedding.

Jamie Benn, Tyler’s best friend and the dark haired man in Vegas you had initially thought was just you seeing double, is tapped as the officiant, getting ordained online and getting really into his role, not knowing it’s basically all just a front. He just loves that he’s the only one in on the secret, constantly wearing a shit eating grin any time any of your other friends discuss wedding plans for a summer wedding that’s not going to happen.

“I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces,” you admit, hooking your hand in the crook of Tyler’s elbow and letting him lead you out to the car. He does a double take when he notices your hand.

“What’s that?” He taps on the ring nestled on your ring finger. Your original wedding ring from a year ago had been replaced with a real diamond, still an oval, but smaller and more tasteful. But that’s not what you’re wearing right now.

Your lips twist up in a sly smile. The huge, gaudy cubic zirconia is back on your finger, your second engagement ring tucked safely in its box in your drawer. “It didn’t feel right to get married without it,” you admit, flexing your fingers against his arm so the fake gem will sparkle.

Tyler’s laugh is contagious. “Everyone’s going to ask about it,” he warns you.

“Let them,” you shrug. “I want to wear my original ring on my anniversary.”

Hours later, when the surprise has been pulled off and Jamie announces that Tyler may kiss his bride, you fall into your husband’s arms, kissing him with all that you’ve got.

Fireworks go off outside the venue, the countdown to midnight at less than a minute.

“Happy anniversary, wife,” Tyler grins against your lips, quiet enough that only you can hear him.

Around you, the countdown continues, seconds ticking away until it’s January first.

“Happy New Year, husband,” you whisper back, laughing when he dips you back dramatically.

The party continues well into the early hours of January first, you and Tyler having had the foresight to rent out the venue for twice as long as a normal party. You spend the night flitting between dancing with your friends and cuddling up against Tyler’s side, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your cheek is pressed against Tyler’s side, the wrinkled fabric of his button down soft under your skin. Your fingers play with the buttons, slipping them from their holes one by one until his shirt is more unbuttoned than not.

Tyler smirks down at you, his hand rubbing an arc over your hip, rucking up the fabric with each upward stroke of his hand, exposing your thigh inch my inch. “Undressing me already, wife? Can’t wait for the wedding night?” He winks at you and you laugh into his chest.

“I think that ship has sailed,” you murmur, sliding your hand under the unbuttoned shirt and over the smooth skin of his stomach, ridged muscles dancing under your touch. You yawn a little, the weird combination of overtired and wide awake making your brain buzz.

Tyler holds you close and leans down a little to whisper in your ear, “want your anniversary gift?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “I thought I already got my gift this morning?”

“That was a wedding gift,” Tyler teases. “This is an anniversary gift, and no, it’s not in my pants.”

You giggle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “Shame, I like what’s in your pants.”

“I’ll give you that later,” he promises, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, I stashed it in the coat closet.”

He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you off, getting stopped every few feet by someone else who wants to gush about what a great surprise the party was. “Just couldn’t wait another minute to marry her,” Tyler grins in response every time, making you laugh at his side, the inside secret of your Vegas marriage a warm fizz in your chest.

When you finally escape off to the coat closet, you try to loop your arms around Tyler’s neck and lift up on your toes to kiss him. He obliges you happily, cupping the back of your head and giving you a searing kiss before pulling away. You whine, “I thought we were sneaking off for a wedding night quickie?”

“I literally told you that your gift wasn’t in my pants,” Tyler laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would you think I wasn’t being serious?”

Your hands find their way underneath his shirt again, fingertips digging into the muscles of his back, and drawing yourself closer to him. “Because I wanted you to be kidding,” you reply. “A little coat closet quickie would be a fun way to start the year.”

“And normally, I’d agree, baby. But I think you’re gonna like this gift,” he leans forward and reaches behind you, giving you the opportunity to press your nose against his collarbone. When he pulls back, he has a fairly large, flat wrapped package in his hand.

“What’s that?” You ask, taking the gift from Tyler as he leans back a little, shoulders resting against the wall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The package is lighter than you thought it would be.

He nudges your foot with his, “open it.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you chew at your lower lip. Neither of you had really discussed the fact that it’s your anniversary or gift giving and now you’re a little embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. You sway a little on your feet, fingers ripping a little at the corners of the paper until it crumples under your touch and the corner of the gift pokes through.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t care. It’s kind of something for both of us anyway,” he says and you wait for the little joke, the tease that you can let him unwrap you later, but it never comes and that’s how you know your husband is about to make you cry with whatever this gift is.

You can feel Tyler watching you as you pull back the paper - leftover Christmas wrapping that’s so clearly been wrapped by a man, too much tape and messy folds. God, you love him - and expose a frame. It takes you a second to process what’s behind the glass, but when you do, you hiccup a little gasp and tears well at your lash line.

Behind the glass is your marriage license with last year’s date and your pair of wobbly signatures. The Polaroids you’d taken that night surround the license and you trace trembling fingertips over the image of you kissing Tyler on the cheek.

“Tyler…” your voice cracks on his name and he gives you a soft little smile.

“This year his been batshit insane, baby,” he leans into your personal space and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “But I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married.”

Tears are sliding down your cheeks and you nod, “I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married, too.”

His laugh is muffled by all the coats surrounding you, but it’s warm and it feels like home. He pulls you into a hug, the frame smushed between your bodies and digging into your stomach, but you don’t care. Tyler’s hand curls around the back of your neck and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your wrist, black mascara smudges streaking across your skin. You giggle a little wetly, “I’m such a mess, oh my god.”

“Everyone will just think you dragged me off so you could have your wicked way with me,” Tyler teases, smirking at you.

“Coat closet quickie for the newlyweds,” you reply, grinning. You settle the frame on the floor, the back of it leaning against your leg, and really wrap your arms around Tyler’s neck, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. The spice of his cologne invades your nostrils and you press your nose harder against his throat, enveloped in his warmth.

Tyler rests his chin on the top of your head and hums, rolling his hips against yours lazily so you can feel the bulge behind his fly. “I could give you a real quick one, just to make sure you don’t have to lie,” he ducks his head to whisper in your ear, kissing at the hinge of your jaw. His hand slides down to graze your ass and you’re nearly ready to say yes, suddenly desperate for him, when a loud bang on the door has you jumping back, heart pounding from the shock, nearly cracking Tyler’s chin with your head. The frame bounces off your leg with your movement, falling to the floor with a little clatter that you hope isn’t broken glass.

“Fuck!” He yelps and you clap your hands over your heart, gasping. “Jesus, who is it?”

Jamie’s voice is choked with laughter as it comes through the door. There’s a slight slur to his words too, as he shouts, “stop fucking on everyone’s coats, we’re doing body shots.”

Your jaw drops open and Tyler rolls his eyes at the interruption. He bangs on the door with a hand and shouts back, “fuck off! I’m trying to spend some time with my wife.”

“Actually,” you say slowly, a little smirk forming on your face, “body shots could be fun…”

“Yeah?” Tyler lifts an eyebrow at you, palm flat on the door.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a wicked grin, “you know I like the way champagne tastes on your skin.”

Tyler’s eyes shut like he’s in pain and your gaze slides down to see the bulge in his pants grow. “You’re a fucking menace and I’m so fucking glad you’re my wife,” he mutters, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you out of the coat closet, nearly knocking Jamie over in his hurry, your shrieked giggles drowned out by the music from the party.

The next morning, afternoon really by the time you finally open your eyes, you wake up with half of your body draped over Tyler’s completely naked one. His hip and thigh is securely wedged between your legs, his morning wood hot against the outside of your thigh. One of your arms is in the sleeve of Tyler’s button down, the rest of the fabric draped over your back like a blanket. The hangover pounds at your temples and the sunlight blinds you and it’s such a deja vu moment you almost think you’re back in Vegas, right until the moment Tyler’s hand twitches against your lower back and he rubs his bearded chin against the top of your head. You melt against him, sighing happily.

“Anniversary party slash vow renewal every New Year’s Eve?” Tyler rasps against your hair, sliding his hand up your spine.

You hum into his skin, “as long as you get me electrolytes and a greasy breakfast on January first, I’m in.”

“How about a headache relieving orgasm first?” Tyler rolls you gently onto your back, already kissing a path down your body. You shiver with each brush of his lips and your legs fall open for him to slot himself between them. He rests his chin on your hip bone and looks up at you with a soft look in his eyes that doesn’t match the hungry smirk that curves his lips.

“What?” You ask, angling your neck to look at him, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. There’s a little streak of glitter against his temple and you brush your thumb over it, wiping the smudge away.

He shakes his head a little. “Just thinking about this past year,” he lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “How fun it’s been, how glad I am that we did the surprise last night.”

“Getting soft on me, Seguin?” you tease, poking at his side with your foot. He wiggles away a little from your touch, ticklish even though he won’t admit it.

“You know I’m anything but soft for you,” he laughs, nipping at your skin. “Let me prove it.” He presses a kiss against your hip bone and then lower and then there’s no more thoughts, just you and Tyler and the rest of forever stretching out in front of you.

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alilove1998 · 13 days

Note

i would love a fluffy seggy blurb!!!! anything that your heart desires (maybe an off season vacay?)

warning: mention of babies and major cases of baby fever

as made obvious from my posts from earlier today, I went more the “anything your heart desires” route than vacay 😏😉

while this is based on Tyler’s ig stories holding the baby from earlier today, I don’t know his friends’ feelings about privacy, but since their ig accounts are private, I decided to use different names for the purposes of this story. enjoy!

_____

Best Friend’s Baby with Tyler Seguin

“Hi, hi, hi! Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m late!” you greeted, barely pausing to press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek as he opened his front door for you. You breezed past him, your eyes scanning the house for his newborn baby daughter, Annie. Ryan and Carly were by far your and Tyler’s closest friends, and you had both been chomping at the bit to come and meet Annie, their firstborn, since her arrival last week. You deposited an enormous bag of the couple’s favorite takeout in the fridge before turning back to Ryan.

“Where is she? Am I too late? Is she sleeping?” you asked as you quickly rubbed in hand sanitizer from the counter, your heart breaking as you envisioned the days-old infant dreaming in a dark room where she couldn’t be disturbed.

Ryan gave you an “are you crazy” look. “She’s a week old,” he reminded. “All she does is sleep, no matter who’s here or who’s holding her.”

“Good, because I need to get my hands on her,” you told him, flexing your fingers as you turned into the living room, still facing Ryan.

“Is Ty here or is he-” You stopped short when you turned to find Tyler sitting in the recliner, donning a hoodie and a backwards hat, little Annie, sure enough, fast asleep in his arms. The moment was enough to leave you frozen in your tracks.

You’d seen him countless times with kids, even babies – he was like a magnet for his teammates’ and friends’ children. Everybody wanted to play and sit with “Uncle Tyler.” But you’d never seen him with a baby so small. And you’d never seen him so completely taken with a little one. He’d barely glanced up from the newborn to acknowledge your arrival with a sweet smile before turning his attention back to the girl. His eyes held more awe and captivation than you’d ever witnessed before.

“He got her to stop fussing,” Carly said softly, her eyes wide, impressed, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hold onto this one, babe. He’s gonna come in handy someday.” She said as she crossed the room and pulled you in for a hug.

“I plan on it,” you said dumbly as she let go, your arms falling back limply to your sides as you slowly walked toward Tyler. When you reached the chair where he sat, you knelt down in front of it to get a good look at the brand new baby in your life.

With two hesitant fingers, you slowly stroked the top of the newborn’s head, her downy hair softer than anything you’d ever touched. She was swaddled in a hospital receiving blanket and smaller than any baby doll you’d played with in your childhood. More than any of this, though, she was safe and content in your boyfriend’s loving arms, and that was enough to throw every hormone in your body into high. Fucking. Alert.

You looked up at Tyler wordlessly, unable to even come up with a greeting for him.

“Pretty cool, huh,” he hummed warmly, his free hand leaving the baby’s swaddle to cup your cheek gently. You only nodded.

“I’ve never seen this girl speechless in my entire life,” Ryan laughed, placing a glass of water in his wife’s hand before taking a seat beside her.

“Me either,” Tyler chuckled, throwing a glance Ryan’s way.

Still, you said nothing. You were completely entranced.

“Tyler, stop hogging the baby and let your girlfriend hold her,” Carly instructed. “I think she needs the resuscitation.”

A smile finally stretched across your face at Carly’s words.

“You wanna hold her?” Tyler asked as he beamed at your expression.

You nodded, grin growing with every passing second. You eagerly took a seated position on the floor in front of the chair, and Tyler leaned forward to pass the baby into your waiting arms. Once she was secure, Tyler remained hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, admiring the baby as much as admiring you holding her.

“She’s perfect,” you finally whispered, pulling the blanket away from her chin to gaze at her perfectly pouted lips and chubby cheeks.

Tyler kissed your temple, his own paternal instincts suddenly bubbling up inside him. He suddenly felt even more protective of you than usual, knowing the sight of you holding a tiny new baby was causing these unfamiliar feelings.

Conversation among the four of you continued easily for the next hour or so as little Annie slept. Tyler eventually relaxed back into the chair, soothing you by absentmindedly running his hands over your hair for where you were now situated between his knees. Every once in a while, he would catch you murmuring to the baby, or gently shushing her, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. You were a natural, and as it turned out, so was he.

Eventually, Annie began to squirm in your arms and make soft noises of discontentment, so Tyler helped you to your feet and you passed her back to Carly.

“She’s an angel, you guys,” you said, smoothing your hand over Carly’s back affectionately. “And a lot of work, I’m sure, so we’re gonna get out of your hair.”

“Yeah? Gotta get to work on my new niece or nephew?” Ryan asked, only half-joking.

You smirked devilishly.

Ryan held out his two pointer fingers, one toward you and one toward Tyler.

“Yeahhh! You guys both just gave me the exact same face,” he exclaimed, clapping Tyler’s back as he drew him in for a hug. “Alright, seems like you guys will be even busier than we are, so we’ll see ya when we see ya.”

Carly playfully shoved at her husband’s leg with her foot, shaking her head with a smile.

You said your goodbyes and promised to check on the little family again in a couple of days, but Ryan was already rushing you out the door, for reasons other than his own peace and quiet. He bid farewell, winked at Tyler, and firmly shut the door behind you.

In the driveway, you got into your Range Rover and prepared to shut the door, but you were stopped by Tyler’s much-stronger grip taking hold of the door handle. He propped his forearms against the top of the car’s frame, caging you in. A new light flickered in his brown eyes.

“Something just happened in there, didn’t it?” he asked after a hesitant pause.

Facing him, you only nodded.

“So… whattya think?” he asked, unsure of where to go next and unwilling to pressure you into something he wasn’t absolutely sure that you wanted, too.

“I think…” you began, twirling his hoodie string around your finger as you gazed up at him. “That I really… really cannot wait to see you as a dad.”

Feeling his heart flutter, Tyler was powerless to stop the joyous expression from forming on his face. He leaned in even closer, your faces just inches apart.

“So… when you say you ‘can’t wait,’ does that mean…” he trailed off, eyes darting between both of yours to read you like he did so very well.

This time, you nodded even more slowly, tugged down on his hoodie string to bring him ever nearer, and kissed him in a way that left no doubt.

You truly, wholly couldn’t wait. And neither could Tyler.

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alilove1998 · 14 days

Text

birthday endings - M.B

pairings: Mat Barzal x female!reader

request: none

who requested it: wasn't a request

summary: a birthday celly with Mat

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, cunnilings

a/n: Ahh, this has been in the Google docs for a little, but, it's finally making it out! This fic is also dedicated/a gift to @wintfleur since it's her birthday !! 🫶🏼🧡

You and Mat had been lying in bed together, after the celebrations of your birthday, and were now cuddling in bed. Although there was one issue…you were needy. The damn beard. It had been practically driving you insane.

“Maty…” You start.

“What’s up, darling?...”

“I…” You start, but opt for burying your face in his neck instead.

“Darling, you know I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on…”

“Need you, but it’s been a long day and I’m sure you’re t-”

“Darling look at me,” Mat says, causing you to pull your face from his neck, looking at him.

“What exactly do you want?...”

You whine, not exactly knowing what you need. “Just need you…”

“How about we try something different tonight” Mat hums, making you look at him with slight confusion.

“Want you to sit on my face,”

“W-what?...”

“You heard me, darling…You said you needed me, so…ride my face” You nod, before slightly pushing Mat back against the bed, moving to hover over his face.

“Maty…Are you sure? I-” You barely have time to finish your sentence before Mat is pulling you down on top of him. The slight scruff of his growing beard creating a friction and the occasional touch of his nose to your cunt was practically enough to make your head spin, as his lips began sucking on your clit, eliciting a moan to fall from your lips.

His tongue flicking through your folds as you grind against his face, beginning to grip his hair.

“F-fuck Maty”

Mat’s hold on your ass tightening, as you rolled your hips against his face.

As he softly bit your clit, your back arched and you let out a small cry of his name. Your movements becoming slightly frantic as you gripped onto his hair, eyes closing making your back arch slightly, as you let out a small cry of his name.

The fire in your belly feeling intense, signaling you were close to reaching your high, as you continued riding him, the moans from him could be felt against you, causing you to snap, letting out a gasp, and a slightly strangled moan as you came hard.

“Mat!”

Mat licked up your juices, letting out a soft hum, causing you to whimper at the feeling, now slightly sensitive. You pulled away slightly, and he helped you off, as you collapsed onto the bed next to him.

“That was…wow” You managed to mumble out, a grin appearing on Mat’s face.

“Yeah?” He questioned, causing you to nod, as he pulled you close,

“Was it…good for you, too?” You question softly, causing him to nod. “Absolutely”

“Now, I should get you cleaned up…Get you some water” Mat says calmly, beginning to move, but you pull him back to you, only wanting to stay with him at the moment.

“Let’s just stay a little longer. We can get up in a minute” Mat hums, continuing to hold you close with a smile, eyes closing, just as yours seemed to.

“Happy birthday, pretty girl. I love you” Mat whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your head.

“I love you too, Mat. Thank you” You hum, a smile now appearing on your lips.

a/n: hope the fic was good! Everyone, go wish @wintfleur a happy birthday !! Once again, happy birthday, lovely !! 🫶🏼🧡

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alilove1998 · 15 days

Text

down bad - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x unnamed OFC

Summary: Mat takes a late night booty call to the next level.

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie. Mega simp Mat. This has barely any plot but has potential to expand into a universe, maybe? Masterlist

The Snapchat notification brightens the screen for a few moments, catching Mat’s eye even while he focuses on shooting down his opponent on-screen. Beau shouts a warning in his ear, and Mat emits a low curse when he gets sniped from behind.

After one more round, and after bidding goodbye to his friend, Mat’s attention draws back to his phone sitting on the table beside him, tapping to see who the Snapchat was from. His jaw pulses, just slightly, when he sees the name attached to the notification. Instinctually, he feels a gentle throb below the waistband of his gray sweatpants, just at the mere sight of her name.

The photo isn’t set to a timer, and Mat sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that he gets to gaze at it for as long as he desires. The foggy mirror is what he notices first, eyes quickly drawing to the generous cleavage exposed underneath the loosely-wrapped towel, a sliver of delicious skin dragging his eyes down to where the countertop regrettably cuts off the view he would have—of hip bones, leading his eyes down to the apex of two thighs he desperately wants to splay open.

There’s no caption, no commentary needed; the message is loud and clear. A calling that he responds to without fail despite his every effort to remain the nonchalant, professional athlete playboy. Obedient and eager, it’s almost Pavlovian the way his senses kick into gear when her messages come through.

Some might call him whipped, but he prefers the term ‘infatuated.’ He has been, ever since he got that first mirror selfie showing off generous curves clad in Calvin Klein underwear. He’d never admit it outside of the privacy of messages that disappear in 24 hours, but he had never come as hard as he did that night, hand gripping his length while his mind was flooded with images of that body, of those gorgeous lips, of the hips that looked like they were made for his hands.

Mat swipes through the photos he’s saved from her texts, for his eyes only. They’re more private, more sacred; selfies in bathroom mirrors with her top pulled down, videos showing a few specific details of her slutty nurse Halloween costume, and his favorite: his girl, perched on the edge of her bed, a Barzal jersey bunched up around her hips and revealing a gratuitous shot of her ass in a deep blue thong.

When he first matched with her on Raya, he never anticipated that he’d meet up with her, let alone see her multiple times after that. A free night in Chicago before a game, he was lying in the hotel room bed in search of his evening plans, in need of a good release. It was her eyes that drew him in first; the same eyes he stared into while she took him in her mouth later that evening. After finding heaven between her legs and climaxing so hard he saw stars, he told her he’d call her the next time he was in Chicago—and he meant it.

Since then, he returns dutifully to her bed when the Isles come to town, and he leaves the door unlocked for her when she travels to New York City for client visits as a CPA (hot and smart; a lethal combination). It’s become an excellent arrangement, the distance far enough to keep things casual, though on nights like tonight, when all he wants is to be buried inside her, he really wishes she was much closer.

Mat’s attention snaps back to his phone when he sees another notification come through with her name on it, and this time, the dark purple square has his heart fluttering. Clicking into the video, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the same shot as earlier, only this time, she lets her hand slip so the white towel sags against her body. He’s practically panting, eyes glued to the way she teases him, until she drops the towel altogether.

He’s hard in an instant, flipping back to his Snapchat app to send a photo back of his sweatpant-covered erection.

‘Wish you were here,’ comes her reply. ‘In the mood to get railed.’

Swallowing thickly, Mat feels the twitch against his pelvis. He lets his mind draw back to the last time he saw her; thinking about the feeling of her perfect, wet heat gripping onto him, the way she moaned his name in his ear. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours with her, hadn’t spent enough time buried between her thighs and worshiping her the way she deserved. The way he craved to. Now, with his last trip to Chicago complete and tax season in the books, he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see her—this fall, at the earliest.

The thought flits through his mind out of nowhere. He considers it for a millisecond, then with a blink, laughs it off. Fly to see her? Tonight?

No, that would be wild, though. It’d be insane.

But you have an off-day tomorrow. You could be back before anyone would notice you’re gone.

Mat shakes his head, pushing away the impulse. He opens his phone, hoping to distract himself by scrolling on Instagram. But the thought doesn’t go away; instead, it patiently nudges at the corner of his brain, lingering until he grants it his full attention. His dick twitches again, as if it knows he’s only a few steps removed from being inside her.

A glance at the airline app can’t hurt, he thinks. Just to see if it’s even a realistic possibility.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see when he opens the Delta app—the perfect timed flight, or a flight that doesn’t work with his schedule. A quick search confirms the former, and he can’t help but laugh out loud at the situation he’s found himself in. Mat shakes his head, the reality of his decision sinking in: are you really about to do this?

He texts her, hoping the distinction of message type symbolizes that he’s serious. The response comes a few minutes later, and he lets out an audible groan when he sees that she’s naked, an arm draped across her breasts seductively. The caption comes next: ‘This is what’s waiting for you if you do decide to come.’

Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling on a baseball cap as he shuts and locks his apartment door, small duffel bag in hand.

Once the Uber drops him off, he briefly notes that it’s strange to be using the public entrance, used to the special business aviation sector that the team used for travel. He could’ve taken a private jet, if he really wanted, but purchasing a commercial ticket was both quicker and easier. And much, much less embarrassing.

He’s halfway through the security line when the reality of what he’s about to do hits him, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. Purchasing and boarding a flight within an hour—for a booty call. Talk about impulsive. And desperate.

The question of ‘why?’ briefly flits through his mind, contemplating his life choices. But then his mind trails to those gorgeous lips, pressed against his mouth, his neck, his—

“Sir, may I please have your ID?”

Mat blinks, coming back to reality, embarrassed that he let his imagination run wild in the middle of the fucking airport. As he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, he does his best to subtly adjust the half-hard erection threatening to make an appearance, smiling innocently at the TSA agent.

If he’s recognized by anyone, no one says anything, though he keeps his head down as he finds his way to his gate. ‘Chicago’ lines the monitor, the flight number and departure times floating across the bottom of the screen. Her last text buzzes in his pocket once he takes a seat, duffel bag seated on the floor by his feet.

The text is actually a photo that has him slapping the face of his phone against his leg, glancing around to make sure no one near him is in sight of his screen. Once he’s sure he’s in safe territory, he sneaks a glance at it again, thirsty for another peek of her completely nude body, a sizable pink dildo pressed against her pouty lips.

Hurry up, the message reads. I’m getting impatient.

Mat hopes nobody notices the way he twitches beneath the dark fabric of his joggers, willing his erection to chill the fuck out as he gets in line to board the plane.

When he lands 3 hours later, Mat’s knee bounces anxiously as he glances out to watch the plane make its way down the tarmac. A quick check on his Maps app tells him he isn’t far from her apartment, and he sends a silent prayer that he can get deplaned quickly.

Waiting is excruciating, and he already has the Uber app loaded as he exits the plane, a ride called by the time he steps off of the jet bridge. Mat’s footsteps quicken when he sees the signs pointing toward baggage claim, and it isn’t long until he’s getting into a red Toyota Camry, his driver, Todd, greeting him from the front seat.

‘The door is unlocked,’ her text read. ‘I’m in the bedroom.’

The lights are off when he enters, though the light over the sink illuminates the small kitchen just enough for him to toe his shoes off and head toward the bedroom door. Mat’s heart thuds in his chest as he nears it, nears her, fingers itching to caress every inch of her body. His dick gives another wanton pulse, like it knows its wait is almost over.

What he sees when he opens the door has him speechless—and that’s hard to do to Mat Barzal.

The room is dark save for the small string of fairy lights by her window and a sandalwood candle burning on the bedside table. Flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the room, dancing on the panoramic photo of Wrigley Field on the wall across from her bed.

But Mat isn’t looking at any of that.

Instead, his eyes are locked on his girl, lying on the bed, gazing straight at him. She’s completely naked, save for the very sheer black lace kimono, untied in the front, revealing her bareness to him entirely. Her legs are spread in a way that he has the perfect view. The warmth of the candle makes her skin look like it’s glowing, soft and golden and delicious.

This time, his dick doesn’t just twitch. It throbs.

He thinks he might’ve let out a whimper, dropping his bag on the floor; his body moves of its own accord, approaching her bed and immediately slotting between her legs. His lips are on hers before he even realizes it, unable to deny the yearning to feel her touch any longer.

“Hi,” he murmurs against her mouth. She giggles, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Missed you.”

Her reply is a hum, hands carding through his hair, hat knocked on the floor. His lips suck, lick, and nip their way over her jaw and to the place he can feel her pulse against his lips. Mat likes the way she shivers when his breath skitters over her skin, body shuddering at the sensation.

“Can’t believe you’re actually here,” she breathes, drawing his lips back up to hers for a heated kiss. The pressure mounts, his tongue desperately seeking out the seam of her mouth; involuntarily, his hips begin a slow grind, pressed right against her bare heat. There’s no hiding or denying his own rigid erection, groaning at the feeling of finally getting some friction after hours of waiting.

“Had to have you,” he whispers back. “Teasin’ me with those pictures like that.”

She moans when his mouth makes a sloppy, wet path from her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, landing on her breast. Mat licks and sucks every inch of skin he touches, drinking in the taste of her nipple between his lips. “Makin’ me so hard with these tits.”

“Just wanted to see if you were really whipped enough to fly here,” she purrs, raking her hand over his scalp when he takes her hardened peak between his teeth, biting down. His cheeks warm, embarrassed at the attention to just how desperate he is for her.

But he can’t deny it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows himself to indulge in her body, thinking that he might as well live up to his newfound title.

“Need this pussy like I need water, baby,” he says with a sleek grin, letting his hand drift between her thighs, hissing with delight when he finds her drenched. She rolls her eyes at the exaggerated comment, though she can’t ignore the flutter in her belly at his carnal need for her.

Her mouth opens to quip back, and he revels in the way a gasp usurps whatever sass she was about to deliver when he plunges a finger into her tight heat. She grips his digits snugly, squeezing him so tightly he wonders how he’s gonna fit another finger in, let alone his dick. The appendage gives another wanton throb.

The lemony jasmine of her shampoo invades his senses as his hand continues to pump, working his girl into a slow, maddening frenzy. Her back arches upward, kimono falling open so she’s all but bare to him. The slope of her breasts, curve of her waist, soft breath of her whimper draw him into her, pulling him into her trance.

Mat can tell by the high pitch in her whine that she’s bordering on desperate for something more. Slipping in another finger, he smirks against her lips when he hears the audible squelch of his digits pressing into her drenched center. The sound has his mouth watering, suddenly quenched of thirst.

Gripping the plush, soft skin of her thighs, Mat pries her legs open—“jus’ a little more for me, sweetheart”—to make room for his broad shoulders before shifting his body down until he’s at eye-level with her waiting, wanting core. He doesn’t wait for her whimper before he’s pressing his face against her, moaning when his tongue tastes her slick.

His girl is divine, her pussy a certain, secret entrance to the pearly gates. Each lap of his tongue isn’t nearly enough to curb his addiction, the craving never satiated. Her fingers twist into the long locks of his hair, tugging and pulling him exactly where she needs him; he’s pliant, moldable, eager to please. He’d devour her cunt whole, if he could.

Unabashed moans encourage Mat to allow his fingers to rejoin his tongue, teasing the swollen nub at the apex of her gorgeous, heavenly slit. He drinks in her nectar like it’s the elixir of life, greedy and indulgent. The soft moans that he coaxes from her throat are just an added bonus.

He’s precise, paying close attention to the way she reacts to each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Between the choked gasps slipping from her pretty lips and the way her thighs tighten around his head, he knows he’s close—that she’s close.

Another long, languid suck of her clit sends her hurtling into orgasm, spine arching off of the mattress. Mat’s hand rests firmly on her hip, holding her in place even despite the way her body writhes with the force of her release; he savors the taste of her flooding his mouth.

Mat loses track of how many times he makes her come, flooding his mouth with her nectar. Three? Four? Five? His jaw aches, his mouth, chin and cheeks glistening with evidence of her arousal like he’s at a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. He wishes Lou would let him grow a beard so he could taste her on his face for hours.

“Matty,” she sighs, and he can hear in her voice that she’s done with the foreplay. Her hands weakly tug at the cotton of his t-shirt in an attempt to draw him up to her. He obeys, pressing his mouth to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue; as he does, the clothed tip of his erection bumps against her open, waiting center, and she whines.

“I know, baby,” he coos, massaging the inside of her thigh with a large hand. She’s practically putty underneath his touch. “Wanna fuck you so bad I think my dick might fall off.”

“Too many clothes,” she says, voice still distant and hazy from her orgasms. Mat feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the way she weakly paws at his clothes, fingers searching for purchase in the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s right, though, and he wrenches his body from hers in favor of pulling his shirt over his head.

Heat floods her eyes and Mat watches the way her gaze falls to the cut lines of his muscle, shamelessly running over the abs and the biceps he’s worked so hard on. He’d be lying if he didn’t think of her—think of this—on the early mornings he dreaded getting out of bed to workout; the thought of her lips, her hips, her body never failing to encourage him to do one more rep. Mat knows his role, his duty, as the professional athlete: maintain the god-like physique that has her all but drooling.

And when she looks at him like that, how is he supposed to deny it?

Mat shimmies his pants off, palming his aching erection through his boxer briefs. His girl’s hand reaches up to aid him, the thin material barely a barrier between her skin and his, and he can’t help but groan at the contact.

“How long have you had this?” she purrs, stroking him leisurely. He can hardly process her words and she’s barely touched him.

“Since—fuck—since you sent me that picture.” His voice is more of a choked whisper, breath hitching in his throat when she offers him an affectionate squeeze.

“But that was hours ago, Matty,” she says, but the evil glint in her eye tells him that she isn’t really feeling sympathy for him; instead, there’s smug pride hidden behind a coy smile. “You must be desperate.”

All Mat can do is hum in response, every nerve on heightened alert as her hand drags slow, languid lines up and down his length. He knows if he opens his mouth, only nonsensical gibberish is going to come out and probably ruin the moment.

“Desperate enough to fly from Long Island to Chicago just to fuck me,” she continues musing. “I’m flattered.”

Pulling himself together—eyes closing when she gives him a squeeze—Mat steels himself to say, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘Course I’m desperate for you.”

“Aww, Matty,” she says with a wry, teasing smile. “You have such a way with words.”

Impatience huffs out of Mat’s lips, doing his best to suppress a whine and a plea to please, grant him some relief. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging it down before he’s hurriedly shucking the material down his hips. “You gonna be polite?”

“Please,” he tacks on, pressing himself forward to connect his lips with hers, needing something—anything—to take the edge off. “Please, baby, swear I’ll fuck you so good.”

His girl hums, returning his kiss, letting his tongue slide into her mouth; symbolic in its action as he teases, dragging the muscle in and out in intentional, suggestive motions. He shifts his approach, letting his voice take on the sickly sweet, honeyed purr that she loves. “Know you want it, sweet girl. Bet you’re jus’ drippin’ for it, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

If Mat had a single ounce of resistance left in him, he’d tease her back, but he can’t draw out his own torture any longer. He lets his hand trail down her body, meeting her own that’s wrapped around his hard, bare length. His fingers brush against her, placing themselves over her hand before guiding himself toward the apex of her thighs. She smiles against his mouth, exhaling softly as his tip broaches her entrance.

“Think I can hear her purring for me,” he says, pressing his hips forward to plunge into her with a groan. A gasp leaves her mouth, hands quickly finding purchase in the dips of his shoulders. The feeling of her walls gripping him tightly nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.

There isn’t a whisper of a retort on her tongue, his quick-witted girl rendered speechless with him sheathed inside her. As much as he loves her quick wit and feisty attitude, he can’t deny that it’s extremely satisfying to be the one to shut her up.

For awhile, he’s content to simply stay that way, feeling the way her walls flutter around him, her body silently begging for more. But then she remembers how to speak, saying, “Mat, fuck me.”

It takes a moment to ensure he isn’t going to completely ruin everything by finishing immediately, but once he does, he lets his hips tick forward, then back, then forward again. He works the pace up to one that earns a lusty gasp in his ear, arms holding himself above her, silver chain dangling between his neck and her chin.

“Squeezin’ onto me like your life depends on it, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, this cunt is so worth the 3 hour flight. Would charter a private jet just to have it in my bed every single night.”

She hums, responding by wrapping her legs around his waist, welcoming him deeper. “Better make the most of it then, Barzal.”

And, well, when she puts it like that.

Mat fucks her slow, fucks her fast, doing his best to remember everything he’s thought about doing to her since he kissed her goodbye when he slipped out of her apartment two months ago. His voice is low in her ear, filthy words strung together between nips at her neck and sloppy, heated kisses against her mouth. She feels so fucking good, and he makes sure to tell her that—communication has always been one of his stronger points.

He presses his hips firmly against the backs of her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can go. His hands wander freely, one making a path between her neck and her breast, the other languidly trailing along the slope of her ass.

Her ass. Of course.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing her, touching her, tasting her, he’d almost forgotten about his very favorite body part of hers—the one he thought about on nights where he missed her, furiously fisting his length, that never failed to bring him to orgasm. Slowing his hand’s movements, he matches his smooth strokes to the tempo of his fingers kneading the globes of her ass.

She loves it. He can tell in the way her hips roll, grinding herself against him, a feral-sounding moan coming from deep in her throat. Mat can practically feel the orgasm building inside of her, keeping his movements careful and precise, unwilling to change a single thing; he can’t tame the desire to feel her come around him.

“Matty,” she whimpers, a hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. His eyes glance down to the movement, cursing lowly at the sight. “M’close.”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come for me? Come on my cock after I flew all this way just to fuck you?”

If she tries to answer, nothing comes out other than another moan. Her eyes squeeze shut, and he imagines the fireworks that will soon dance beneath her eyelids. Fingers stroke at her soft skin, almost as if he’s willing her orgasm into existence. He lowers his voice to murmur, “I’ve been dreaming about feeling you come all over me for weeks, baby. It’s the least you can do.”

When she reaches the precipice, her body freezes beneath him, time standing still for a millisecond as she shatters. He can almost feel the way it courses through her, the way her pussy clamps onto him so tightly he sees stars of his own.

It’s glorious. Sinfully, decadently, maddeningly exquisite.

Mat’s patient with her comedown, whispering soft words of encouragement, hips resuming a gentle motion that probes her sensitive core. She whines, pawing at his shoulder to push him away. Her voice is gentle, a soft command. “Matty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Y’feel too good.”

He’s aware, though, wants to give her a moment of reprieve before he bends her over the way he wants to. So, he suppresses a huff as he pulls out of her delicious heat, distracting himself from the loss by kissing her hotly. She seems distracted, too, sighing into his mouth, enjoying the way it feels like he’s devouring her whole.

“Wanna fuck you from behind,” he murmurs against her lips. “Watch this ass bounce on me.”

Mat helps her up, allowing her to tear her lips away from his in favor of flipping over. Once she’s settled on her hands and knees, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, he takes a moment to admire the view: pussy glistening with the remnants of her orgasm, framed by the globes of her perfect ass. Heaven.

“Gotta be inside you,” he says, a statement that’s more like a declaration.

“Quit making me wait.”

His eyebrow raises. “Thought we were being polite.”

“You are. I can be whatever I want,” she shoots back with a smile. His dick gives another mild twitch.

Mat hums. “Guess I better give the lady what she wants, then.”

Judging by the way she’s backing up to meet him, he assumes she’s had plenty of reload time and slips back into her. This time, he doesn’t take his time to ramp up, instead setting a grueling pace from the start, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips.

A groan, followed by a loud curse. “Think about this every damn day. You, taking it from behind like this. Bent over jus’ for me.”

Her reply is to lean forward farther, spreading her arms forward onto the mattress and opening herself to him even more. Mat accepts the invitation to drive deeply into her, hips slapping loudly against the back of her thighs. The thought of her neighbors briefly flits through his mind, but another glance back down at her ass has that consideration slipping away as quickly as it came. He doesn’t care who hears or who he wakes up; hell, he’d be fine telling the entire world that he gets to fuck her.

“Since you came all this way, you deserve a treat,” she says, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder at him. The sight of her peachy, round ass and her bedroom eyes looking up at him makes his balls tighten.

“And what might that be?” Mat accentuates the question by squeezing her hips tightly. He swallows down the comment that this, here, being inside of her, is already reward enough.

“I’ll let you come inside.”

Since their trysts began, she’s made Mat relieve himself elsewhere—her chest, her ass, her face; his mind briefly flits to each, reminiscing on the mental snapshot he took each time. The thought of not just not having to pull out moments before the strongest climaxes of his life, but at the idea of finishing inside of her is enough to have his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” he says with a grin, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear. The action presses him even deeper inside of her, his hips snug against the curve of her ass as he whispers, “Fuck my load deep inside this perfect little cunt?”

She nods, mouth opening in a silent gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust. “Yeah. Wanna feel you, Matty.”

Her eyes shoot open when he pauses his movements, glancing back at him in protest when he pulls away. Both hands pull lightly on her hips, encouraging her to flip over onto her back. When she does, her eyes catch his and he smiles.

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he says with a shrug, easing himself back into her waiting core.

“Oh, he’s down bad.”

He laughs, face crinkling into a smile despite the way the burn of euphoria builds in his stomach. A hand drags down the outside of her leg, tucking her calf around his hip. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna come in me or not?”

“You begging for it?”

The four words dramatically change the mood; Mat watches her eyes darken as they sink in. Like he gave a secret code to have her submissive and pliant beneath him. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her lips pouty. “Please, Matty.”

Mat slows his hips, savoring the way her pussy sucks him in, greedy. He can’t help the grin that curls up on his face, watching the way her eyebrows knit together. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please, baby,” she whines, “wanna feel you come in me. I—I need it.”

He hums. “Been dreaming about filling this tight pussy up for months, baby. Wanna watch my cum drip out of this slutty little cunt.”

“Please,” is her whispered plea—quiet and desperate.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he says with a smirk. The pace of his hips increase, balls tightening with the threat of his climax. He listens to her moans, the sound of his skin against hers, the rustle of the sheets beneath his knees. His girl’s hands tighten around his shoulders, holding onto him as she absorbs the weight of his thrusts, body shifting up and down on the mattress.

Mumbles of her name, of obscenities, flow out of his mouth, low murmurs in her ear. His rhythm starts to falter, no longer a steady metronome but a series of sloppy, uneven thrusts as Mat finds it harder and harder to stay focused.

The release starts deep in his core, bursting through with a loud groan as he finally meets his end, reveling in the feeling of spilling inside of her. It’s freeing to have no barriers between him and her, to feel her in all of her pure, whole self, the way she contracts tightly around him as her own final climax barrels through her. Mat’s vision goes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s pretty sure his soul ascends out of his body.

It occurs to Mat that he’s slumped on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck while soft, small hands trace lazy lines up and down his spine. The touch ignites his nerve endings, sending another wave of consciousness through his system. Her nails drag delicious, soothing lines onto his scalp, and he feels his throat vibrate against her collarbone in a moan. His vision gradually grows from fuzzy to just a bit of a haze when he peels his eyes open.

“Baby, that was the—”

“Hardest you’ve ever come?”

Mat blinks, fully back in reality now, shifting his head to look at her in disbelief. “How did you know?”

She chuckles, lips brushing against his ear. “You said that last time, too.”

538 notes · View notes

alilove1998 · 16 days

Text

Dreams Awakened | Jack Hughes

summary: when Jack gets caught in the midst of your dreams, it’s only fair he helps you.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving!), swearing.

word count: 2.67k

authors note: this was meant to be the soft sex for jacks birthday (before we get to something real big) but I got busy and sprained my ankle so this is shorter than I wanted but here it is and better late than ever really!

All he wanted was you.

Before Jack didn’t mind when the team was sent on their long roadtrips, he never understood why it mattered so much to the married players as they’d complain. Jack consistently enjoyed the time away from the city as it felt like a break.

But now it all changed for him once he met you, the girl next door all bright eyed for her change of scenery which was meant to be a big fuck you to your past friends who thought you couldn’t do it. Your new beginnings quickly led to you ending up in Jacks bed a few times before you both agreed to make it official and within six months of that when your lease was set to soon expire, Jack offered up a permanent place at his.

From that moment on he knew all too well why his teammates hated those long roadies, being away from you for that long felt like torture. And now after doing it for two and a half years he swore it never got easier, yet the arrivals home seemed to get more sweet. This time they came back directly after the Dallas game and even as the clock on his phone showed 02:34 Jack still hoped that you were awake so he could talk to you.

It wasn’t that he had anything on his mind, he just missed the way he could see you in person. But that idea was quickly tarnished when he noticed that all but the light in your bedroom was off. The crack under the door revealed the glow of the bulb, making the boy drop his bag in excitement.

Even as he let the door burst open you didn’t move a muscle, in fact, you had fallen asleep on his side clutching his pillow as you lay with your ass in the air and only his shirt and a pair of panties on. He couldn’t help but crack a grin at the sight, you looked perfect as you lay there and Jack was ready to push his desires away. You knew all too well about how he wanted to fuck his girl in her sleep once just to feel it, and you gave him the green light to do it whenever he wanted because you figured it’d be a good time for you.

With your blessings he still found himself reaching for your blanket as he felt sick. You were meant to be his sweet girl, not someone he could just use like a toy to fulfil his needs “Jack.” Your moan made him freeze with a blanket in his arms ready to cover you up.

You wriggled your hips and as your eyes were still shut. He quickly realised that you were in the midst of a wet dream as your fingers gripped at the sheet beneath you.

Jack felt his jaw soften as his lips turned to a smirk “my horny little girl huh?” He muttered to himself as he ran his fingers over the edge of your panties looking at the table where your vibrator sat.

You always got horny at the ends of his road trips when the phone sex would no longer cut it and you were left imagining what he would do to you. Like him, you hated the long roadtrips because no matter how hard you tried, your fingers were no match for his.

As Jack felt his suit bottoms grow tight against his cock he loosened the button of his shirt “wanna be-good girl.” Your words came out gurgled as your lips formed a pout “fuck baby.” Jack let out a grunt as he let the vibrator sit between his fingers.

The gummy material was something he wasn’t unfamiliar with as the hot pink toy ended up in your relationship as a joke when he said you’d need a friend, and has since never left. He turned it onto the lowest setting looking back to make sure you were still asleep before he pressed it against your clit.

The fabric of your panties were quick to grow soaked at the fact that he had left those on you “ah.” You moaned arching your back further to give him an even better view as his shirt rose up on your body.

It was a sight Jack was never going to get tired of as he made the vibrator’s speed increase “mhm.” You let out a whimper as Jack swore he was now caught when your head went deeper into the pillow, but still you were asleep.

He watched on for another minute before you began to babble on about how you were close “please.” You whined finally making him pull away from you. Even as you were sleeping the pleasure dissipated from between your legs making you pout in disappointment.

Jack smiled at the sight letting his tongue coat his lips in wetness as he placed the vibrator onto the table. He let his hands grace over the waistband of your panties before he stealthily pulled them down. Still you remained sound asleep and now he even had the sight of how wet you were in front of him.

The soft purrs left your lips as he rubbed your ass “can’t believe I always let you go for so long.” He grumbled to himself as he shifted his legs trying to find a comfortable place to be sat in that moment.

He found himself sat on the mattress as he blew cool air against your cunt “mhm.” You mumbled driving your hips closer to him “always such a needy little cunt.” He cooed licking up a stripe against your cunt.

It made you moan as he froze looking up at you “you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” Jack explained as he used his hands to spread your ass cheeks so that he could taste you properly.

The hockey player enjoyed the taste treating you like his last meal as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man “Jack.” Your moans seemed deeper as his tongue sucked at your clit.

Your eyes blinked open adjusting to the light around you “hi pretty girl.” Jack cooed causing your head to lift from the pillow as you looked at him.

He smirked thrusting his fingers into your core as he leaned over you so that he could get to your neck “fuck.” You whimpered feeing his lips nip at your skin “was thinking about you all damn week.” Jack confessed as he kissed your jaw.

You gripped at the sheets beneath you “missed you.” You confessed letting your voice break as you clenched around his fingers “couldn’t get this fucking sight out of my mind.” The hockey player explained as he let his hand slap your ass.

The action made you moan as you jumped feeling his thumb circle your clit “make me cum.” You pleaded wriggling your ass against him “that’s the first fucking thing you ask for when I’m home huh?” Jack laughed as he shook his head increasingly the speed of his fingers as he curled them into the gummy walls of your cunt.

Jack’s cock throbbed as he watched you spread your legs further “honestly think we should put you in my suitcase.” He confessed as he inserted another finger into your cunt “can’t help missing this needy cunt.” The boy added as he sped up his pace, making sure that he got every spot of your walls including your gspot.

He was grateful for the fact that Luke had moved out as your door was now able to be wide open, yet still you kept your hand over your mouth “doll you wanna cum then I better fucking hear ya beg for it.” He grunted feeling his cock grow uncomfortable in his pants “please baby.” You pleaded seeing his eyes stare into yours.

His silence served as a reminder to the fact that you hadn’t done nearly enough to convince him “missed you so much Jacky.” Your eyes filled with tears as your legs began to shake “just wanna make a mess on your fingers so I.” You cut yourself off as you moaned feeling your toes curl.

Jack let his free hand go under your shirt now letting his weight go dangerously close to sitting on top of you “so you what?” He taunted you as he smirked letting you feel the way his lips curved upwards against your skin “can fuck your cock.” That was all enough for him as he swore he could have cum on the spot.

He kissed your ear as your moans echoed in his ears bouncing off of the walls “let me finish ya off then huh princess?” Jack mumbled giving you the green light to cum.

The both of you loved getting the chance to be this close as it felt like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in years “don’t stop Jack.” You begged letting your head drop to the pillow as you clenched around his fingers.

Your eyes screwed shut as white dots scattered over your vision when you got your first proper orgasm in over a week “there we go pretty girl.” He cooed brushing his fingers through your hair as you came down from your high.

A flurry of whimpers flew from your lips as you felt his fingers release from your cunt, causing your release to ooze down your slit “fuck Jacky.” Your words were soft as you let out a cough smiling as you looked up at him.

He was quick to roll you over, letting the space between your legs get taken up by him “missed ya.” Jack confessed as he kissed your lips.

The moment was soft as your hands cupped his cheeks letting your hands rub over his skin “why don’t we get you out of this?” Sure Jack loved the way his clothes looked on you, but in that moment he wanted you in as little as possible.

As cooler air came around you, a whine slipped from your lips as the both of you were now sat up straight “you’re too clothed.” You grumbled making him laugh as he sat back on his feet “think you should help me then.” He joked letting that same smirk come back to his lips as you began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

It was clear you were desperate as his clothes quickly formed a pile on the ground “god I’ve missed this.” Jack groaned ripping open the wrapper to his condom as he watched your eyes light up “seems like you have too.” As he rolled the condom over his cock he couldn’t help but kiss your lips.

You lay back down with a stupid grin lacing your face “think I should go nice and slow-” Jack loved teasing you when you were overly eager “I know you didn’t just wake me up without fucking me.” You grumbled propping yourself up by your elbows.

If this was any other day he would have laughed, but in that moment he just wanted you to ruin you “fucking hell.” You both groaned feeling him bottom you out.

His forehead pressed against yours as he gave you the chance to adjust to his size, always having the same effect on you that he had the first time around “please move.” You whimpered trying to move your hips to create some kind of friction “look at you all needy again.” Jack taunted bringing your legs closer to him as he brought them over his shoulders.

The movement made you squeal feeling Jack peck at your lips. It was what you loved most with him as he found the way to make you feel like you were playfully in love “missed this cunt.” He confessed as he began thrusting his hips as he wanted to feel every inch of you again.

You whimpered in agreement “kept on thinking bout you.” You babbled on as the bed creaked beneath you “wanted your cock so bad.” You clenched around him remembering how needy you felt seeing him get into a few fights on screen.

He let his hand crawl up your skin “don’t think I ever wanna leave you again.” Jack announced as he watched his chain drop to your chin “already told Neeks I’d fucking murder him if he made me leave ya tomorrow.” The boy added as you lifted your lips up to kiss him swearing that this had to be a dream.

His cock continued to push deeper into your gummy walls as you clenched around him “you carry on doing that and I’m not going last.” Jack warned dropping his head to your breasts.

The coil in your stomach tightened as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking at the sensitive bud trying to bring forth your second orgasm before he came like an excited teenage boy. His message to himself was always that you had to come first, and that was no different tonight.

You had one hand gripping at your sheets and the other at his hair wanting him to stay there “please don’t stop.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake.

He brought his lips up looking at you to see you staring back in awe, as the sight of broken saliva trailing from his lips made you squirm “wanna milk your cock.” You whined letting moans echo off of the walls.

It made him throb against your walls “wish I could make a mess.” Both of you weren’t ready for kids but still he couldn’t deny his desires to mark you up like some little whore.

You moaned letting the thought crowed your mind “please baby.” You nodded letting your fingers slide between your bodies to attack your clit.

But Jack was all that much quicker as he slapped your hand away looking back up at you “it’s gonna be me that makes you cum.” He explained with a scoff feeling his jaw tighten “please Jacky.” Your lips were swollen from how you chewed at it and your pupils were blown.

The sight alone was enough to make him nod as he let his fingers strum at your clit like he was playing a guitar “go on baby.” He cooed moving closer to you as skin slapped together when he kissed you.

It was enough to silence your moans as you came feeling the coil snap in your stomach quickly triggering on his orgasm “oh my god.” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath making him laugh “it’s just me princess.” He grinned as you scoffed going to argue with him when he pulled out of you.

Your eyelids grew heavy as he watched you lay on his side of the bed “really did miss you.” Jack confessed as he softly kissed your lips wanting to still feel you.

He watched you grin as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek “you want a bath, shower or bed?” The hockey player asked not wanting to care that it was well beyond a suitable time to be awake anymore.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek “you gonna put my bath bomb in?” Your voice was soft as he nodded “and those bath salts you like so much.”

After the late night that the two of you had, it was no surprise that all you wanted was to sleep in. Craving Jacks warmth as you were practically falling onto his side edging closer to him.

But that only lasted so long as your eyes stirred open hearing the sound of knocking at your door “baby should I get it?” Jack asked hearing the knocks get louder.

Your groans deterred him from it, ultimately making him laugh “if you even think about it I will murder you Hughes.” You warned pulling him in closer with you.

From the other side of the door stood John and Dawson “why do you think that Nico told us Jack wanted to see us?”

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alilove1998 · 18 days

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Apple of His Eye - Crosby Crew blurb

A little Crosby Crew blurb inspired by this video of the cutest Penguins Junior Starter ever...

https://youtu.be/fHCoZKNd_Uo?si=TutuE6kWLsfO9rsF

Here is chapter one of the series -

@pattiemac1 @penstxgal1968

Tuesday, December 26th 2023 – Crosby House, Sewickley PA

“Momma,” Callie called from the bottom of the stairs, “Your phone is ringing.” Sera’s head turned toward the door of Cole’s nursery.

“Callie Girl,” she called down, “Can you read the name and tell me who is calling?” She pressed her lips together when she heard Callie answer the call herself. “I swear to God,” she sighed as she wiped Cole’s plump rump, “You may look like your Daddy’s twin, but that girl- she is his spiritual twin. They both don’t listen well.” Cole smiled at his mother as she finished the diaper change.

“Hello, this is Sera Crosby’s phone- Callie speaking,” Callie spoke loudly into the phone. She beamed with pride that she was able to answer the phone on her own.

“Uhhh, Callie?” the voice on the other end spoke in confusion, “This is Coach Sam. I need to speak to your mother. Is she available?”

Callie froze in place, “You need to speak to my mother?” She racked her brain if there was anything negative her coach could report from a recent practice. “Am I in trouble?” she questioned.

“Of course not, Callie. I just need to speak to your mother,” her coach answered.

Callie ran up the stairs and rushed into the room. She thrust the phone into her mother’s hand and ran out of the room. “Uh, hello?” Sera questioned as she watched her daughter disappear in a flash.

“Sera?” the coach questioned, “This is Coach Sam. Is Sid around?”

“No, what’s up?” she pulled up Cole’s pants and placed him on the floor as she cleaned the changing table.

“The Penguins reached out to me. They would like a representative of the team to be the Junior Starter of the game on January 6th,” he explained as Sera listened. “I would like Callie to be our representative but I know that Sid is very conscious of the appearance of any sort of favoritism because of his position.”

Sera mulled it over as she walked toward Callie’s room. The curly haired girl was nowhere to be seen. Sera leaned against the door, “If Callie’s last name was not Crosby, would she be the one that you would select?”

“Absolutely! She is the leading goal scorer and a leader on the ice,” he explained.

“Then I think that she should be offered the opportunity if she earned it on her merits,” Sera smiled, “Unfortunately, she seems to be missing in action. I guess you will need to ask Xander.”

“Nooooooo,” Callie screamed from her closet. The door flew open and she ran out. “I am here. What portunity? What portunity?”

Sera handed the phone to Callie, “I will let your coach tell you.”

Callie put the phone to her ear and listened intently as her coach explained the opportunity. Her eyes filled with tears, “I really am not in trouble? You want me to represent the team?”

“Yes, Callie,” Coach Sam answered, “You earned it. I can’t think of anyone on the team that works as hard as you at every practice and every game. You are very talented Callie, but your hard work ethic is the best.”

“Thank you, Coach Sam,” Callie squealed, “So I will get to go stand next to Uncle Kris for the anthem?” Callie gasped and looked at her mother, “Can we surprise him? Can we surprise Uncle Kris?”

“Ummm, if you want to,” Sera smiled, “I don’t know how we will keep your Daddy to keep his mouth shut but we will try.”

Callie’s nose scrunched up, “Daddy can keep a secret.”

“Daddy can keep a secret from you,” Sera protested, “But he can’t keep a secret about you. He will be bursting with pride.”

“Umm, Callie?” Coach Sam interjected, “Can I tell the Penguins yes?”

“I am sorry,” Callie blushed, “Yes, please tell them I will do it. Can you tell them that I want it to be a secret?”

“I don’t think that they normally tell the players, but I will let them know that you don’t want them to know,” Coach Sam laughed, “Remember we don’t have practice again until the weekend of the 13th. I will see you at the game though.”

Callie turned to look at her mother who simply raised her eyebrows. The high pitched squeal reverberated through the house. Cole looked up at his big sister in question, unsure what the squeal communicated- delight or terror. When he saw the smile spread across her face, he joined in with his own squeals of delight. Callie ran and lept into her mother’s arms. “Momma, Momma, Momma - I get to be on Daddy’s ice before a real game. I get to wear my uniform and be a real Pittsburgh Penguin!”

“Yes, you will,” Sera replied as eyes filled with tears, “I am so happy for you.” Three members of the Crosby crew collapsed onto the floor in a pile of hugs and kisses.

Saturday, January Sixth – PPG Paints Arena

“Where are Aunt Sera and Callie?” Nikita asked his mother again as they stood by the glass for warm-ups.

Anna tried to avoid the question as long as possible. “Sera is doing Callie’s hair. She wants it to look special,” she finally stammered as an answer as Cole squirmed in her arms

Nikita gave his mother a side eye, “Callie never misses warm-ups. You are not telling me the truth.” Anna shot him a look that conveyed a very stern “Let it go” message. Nikita acquiesced and turned his attention to his father who had just taken to the ice.

On the other side of the arena, Callie stood in a hallway adjusting her shin pads as her mother taped her socks. “Mama, we’re going to be late,” she whined. Sera checked the time and confirmed that they were not late.

“Callie Girl, warm-ups just started. We have at least twenty minutes before they come to get you.” Sera remarked calmly.

“No, we go to them. That’s what Mr. Mark said,” Callie interjected, “We meet in the tunnel by the big stack of chairs. He showed me.”

Sera shook her head, “You’re right. Now let’s get your chest pads on and head that way. I wouldn’t want the Junior Starter of the game to be late. I hear that the Penguins Captain is a bit of a hard ass.”

“Momma!” Callie squealed, “You said ass. You are not supposed to cuss around me.”

“Hey, if you are going to be a Junior Starter, you have to get used to the hockey words,” her mother joked back, “but don’t use them until you are older.”

A few minutes later - Mark, the arena crew member, smiled as Callie walked towards the tunnel. “There is our Junior Starter of the game,” he smiled. Callie glanced back at her mother for reassurance. As much as the arena was a second home to her, the nerves were beginning to activate. She regretted telling her mom to not invite Nikita to come to the tunnel with them. Her best friend would make her feel calmer.

Sera sensed her daughter's anxiety and decided to get the logistics out of the way. “They said to leave her jersey off?” Sera stated as they were directed to the chairs, “Something about a mic?”

“Yes,” he said, “Let’s get you mic’d up. I think that the Penguins want to capture the audio and video.”

“The Penguins know?” Callie began to panic, “It’s supposed to be a surprise! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Mark laughed at first but looked at the very real expression of disbelief on Callie’s face. “Callie, look at me,” he said as she began to wind herself up. She glanced in his direction. “There are about five people who know that you are the Junior Starter of the game- the social media person, the announcer, your mom, you and me. That’s it, Callie. No one from the team knows, okay?”

Mark bent down to give Callie last minute instructions. “Now after they give the introduction, I will give you the signal and you can go stand next to your dad.” Callie’s eyes widened in surprise. In all of the times that she had mentally pictured this moment in her mind, she always stood next to Uncle Kris. That’s where all of the Junior Starters stood for the anthem. She looked up at her mother, then back to the handler. “I stand next to my Dad? Are you sure?” she questioned.

“I don’t see why not,” Mark smiled, “You know where he will be right?”

“Don’t worry about it dude,” Callie answered flippantly in an attempt to disguise her nervousness, “I know what I’m doing.“

The remark was met with swift rebuke from her mother. “Calliope Crosby, be respectful! Apologize right now.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Mark,” Callie quickly offered, “but I know where my dad stands. It is the same for every game.”

“Yeah, the Captain is a creature of habit, isn’t he?” Mark remarked with a smirk.

Callie nodded and began to feel the nerves again. Suddenly the house lights went dark and the music began. Callie inched forward and watched the screen as the pregame hype video began on the big screen. Her heart began to race and she rocked on her skates back and forth. Then she looked up on the screen just as the video switched to a live feed of the team coming from the locker room. She smiled as her father appeared on the screen. “Daddy,” she whispered to herself. The sight of him calmed her nerves and she noticed the intense look on his face. She tried to match his expression. Sera looked on from the side. She smiled to herself as she watched her daughter transform into her father’s mini-me.

Callie focused on the tunnel as the Penguins took to the ice. She ducked down when her father whizzed by her. Most took laps around their zone and headed to their bench. Five players, including her father, took their place on the blue line for introductions.

“Almost time. You ready?” he asked, “Go move out to the carpet. You know where to go? Can you find your dad?”

Yes,” she answered, “He will be closest to the boards.”

“Great,” Mark gave her a thumbs up, “Have fun!”

Callie stepped out onto the carpet as the introductions started. The Penguins faced away from her but her eyes were transfixed on her father. She shivered slightly as the crowd erupted at the line, “And the captain, number 87….. Sidney Crosby!”

The Penguins removed their buckets and turned slightly to face the carpet. Well, all of them except one. Kris Letang squinted his eyes in disbelief then he shook his head, “No way.” Behind him, Rickard Rakell leaned to the side, “Is that Callie?”

Sidney stood with his head down. His mind was focused on his pregame routine and he only half-listened to the arena announcer. It was time to announce the Junior Starter of the game, then it would be time for the anthem. He focused his eyes on the ice.

The announcer began her introduction, “Welcome to the ice tonight’s Junior Starter of the game- wearing number 87 - Calliope Crosby of the Sewickley Penguins.” The crowd erupted in cheers as they realized that the Junior Starter of the game was none other than Sidney Crosby’s daughter.

The roar of the crowd penetrated Sidney’s ears. “Wow,” he thought, “The crowd seems pretty fired up tonight. I bet the Junior Starter is a cutie.” He turned to watch them skate. His eyes settled on the small figure skating toward him. “Wait,” he thought, “They go next to Tanger. Why are they skating toward me?” Then he noticed the jersey. “Huh,” he questioned, “Callie’s team jersey looks just like that. Her breezers look just like that too.” Then he looked at the face beneath the visor.

Callie neared Kris Letang and flashed a smile, “Surprise Uncle Kris!” Then she skated past him toward her father.

Sidney stared and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Why was Callie on the ice? He looked up and noticed her picture on the jumbotron. He read her name and the words “Junior Starter of the Game”. He made eye contact with his daughter and smiled, “Daddy, did I surprise you? I am a starter just like you. I get to be on YOUR ice.”

“Just like you” - The words hung in the air. His baby was here on the ice, with him. She was here on HIS ice. The reality that this would be the closest that he would come to playing hockey with one of his children. Sure, there would be exhibition games and scrimmages, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would be in a game atmosphere. He stared at her in stunned wonder.

He choked out the words, “Yes, Callie - just like me!” His eyes suddenly filled with tears and he titled his head back to keep the tears from falling.

The roar of the crowd continued. Through the noise, he could hear Geno laugh and call to Callie. “Callie- You play on my line. We score lots of goals.”

Callie yelled back, “Uncle Geno, I don’t actually get to play!” He gave her a wink and continued to beat his stick on the boards with the rest of the team.

The anthem singer was announced and Sidney looked at his daughter and his heart skipped a beat. The absolute pride coursed through his veins and radiated from his eyes. She looked up at him with a shy smile. “Callie,” he said softly, “Take off your helmet for the anthem, okay?”

She nodded solemnly. She knew that this was part of the pregame routine that her father strictly adhered to without exception. She took off her helmet and held it to her side, just like her father. On the sidelines, Sera watched with the same pride that Sidney felt. They, along with Cole, were the center of her universe and her heart burst with joy. She had not admitted it to anyone but there was a small part of her that had been disappointed when they found that Callie was a girl. Although she knew that she would love the tiny bean growing insided of her, Sera worried that Sidney might miss out on moments like this. She worried that he would love a son just a little more.

She shook her head and chided herself for not realizing that these moments would create themselves, regardless of their child’s gender. She had been wrong. There was no way that would have loved Callie more if she had been a boy. No, that girl was the apple of his eye and his love for her knew no bounds.

As the anthem began, Sidney looked down at his daughter. Gone was the smile. It had been replaced by the focused intensity of a game day. “Where did she learn that from?” he thought to himself as he turned and faced forward. His expression matched Callie’s. He nearly lost it though when he felt her small hand wrap around the pinkie of his glove. Despite the tough facade, she sought the comfort of her father to ease her anxiety. Sidney could not think of a higher honor than that. To be her safe person, the eraser of fears, her rock in this crazy word - that was his life’s purpose. Everything else was small potatoes. No, this - this moment in time was more precious than any hockey related accolade

There was not a dry eye among the parents in the crowd who watched this tender moment between their beloved captain and his daughter. For a brief moment in time, they witnessed him not as a decorated hockey veteran but in his greatest role as Callie's dad.

The sentimental tears turned into laughter as both Callie and Sidney made the Sign of the Cross and kissed their necklaces simultaneously as the anthem ended. Then she turned to skate off as she had been instructed. “Callie Girl,” he called out to her. She stopped in place while he bent and kissed her forehead. “Good job,” he spoke softly, “Good job!”

She looked up into his eyes and flashed a beaming smile. “Thank you Cap,” she answered, “I gotta go now. I am not supposed to doodle.”

“You mean dawdle?” he corrected.

“Yeah, dawdle, not doodle,” she corrected herself before skating off, “Bye!”

He stood and watched her skate toward the tunnel. He felt a pang of disappointment that she had not given him a hug before leaving. Then he remembered that she would have given detailed instructions on what to do. Knowing his daughter and the numerous times she had been told to “listen the first time”, she would follow the instructions to a T.

His eyes found his wife and they exchanged a look and a head nod before he turned to go to the bench. Callie was almost to the carpet when she stopped. Sera looked at her daughter in concern. Callie mouthed, “Sorry!” before turned around and started skating back across the ice. “Daddy! Daddy!” she yelled as sprinted across the ice.

Sidney turned around abruptly and watched her race towards him. Then he squatted down and opened his arms wide. She threw herself into his embrace and hugged him tight. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I needed a hug. I couldn’t go without a hug.”

“It’s okay, Callie Girl,” he soothed, “I wanted a hug.”

They stood and embraced for a moment. The noise of the crowd faded into silence as they clung to each other. He was just a dad hugging his precious child. The Buffalo Sabres awkwardly skated around the duo to get in position for the face-off. The rest of the Pittsburgh Penguins skated by them gingerly. Letang whispered softly as he passed, “Sid, it’s time.”

Sidney set Callie down and placed a kiss on the top of her helmet. “I love you so much, Callie Girl. I have to go to work now.”

Callie paused before she turned to yell at the Penguins bench. “Pittsburgh Penguins, what are you going to do tonight?” she yelled.

In unison, they yelled back “Listen the first time, do our best, and have fun!”

She gave them a big thumbs and skated off into her mother’s waiting arms. Sera covered Callie’s face with kisses. “Baby Girl! You did so well. Did you have fun?” she asked, “Was it fun to stand there with Daddy?”

Callie buried her face into the nape of her mother’s neck. “This is the best night of my whole life!”

“Your whole life? Wow, that’s something!” Sera laughed.

Sidney did a slow lap around the neutral zone to regain his composure. When he settled into position for the face-off, Tage Thompson remarked, “Cute kid”. His comment was met with an ice cold stare. Tage gulped and got into position only to have Sidney win the face-off decidedly.

Four Hours Later - Crosby House - Sewickley PA

Sidney carried Callie’s sleeping body up the stairs as Sera followed behind carrying Cole. He paused at the top of the stairs to allow Sera to kiss Callie’s forehead and whisper a prayer. Then they separated ways. He went to tuck Callie into bed while Sera went to breastfeed Cole for his final feed of the night.

After tucking her into her bed, Sidney knelt down beside it to gaze at her peaceful face. He pushed her hair out of her face and caressed her forehead with this thumb. “Best night ever,” he said to himself.

“That’s what I told Momma,” Callie answered although her eyes were still closed.

He paused before responding. He didn’t want to risk her fully waking up which would incite the wrath of a very tired wife. “Daddy?” she asked, “Were you so, so proud of me?”

“I’m always so, so proud of you Callie Girl,” he whispered.

“Were you surprised?” she yawned.

“Very” he grinned at the memory.

“Coach Sam said he picked me because I earned it- not because you are my dad,” she said sleepily.

“Of course you earned it, baby,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, “Now go to sleep and you can tell me more in the morning.”

“‘Kay,” she yawned again before rolling over. “Daddy?” she asked as he stood up straight, “Who is the luckiest Daddy ever?”

“Me, Baby Girl, Me,” he paused and responded.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I get to be Cole’s daddy and your daddy,” he smiled and headed to the door.

“Daddy?” she asked, causing him to roll his eyes with her obvious stalling tactics.

“Yes?” he sighed.

“Who is the luckiest girl in the whole wide world?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “Who?”

“Me - do you know why?”

“No, but I am sure you will tell me, Callie,” he said with a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Because I get to be your baby girl, Daddy. I get to be your baby girl and Momma’s baby girl,” she yawned again.

“Well, I guess then we are both the luckiest,” he smiled, “Now go to sleep.”

“I love you to the moon and back, Daddy.”

“I love you to the sun and back,” he responded as he walked out the door.

24 notes · View notes

alilove1998 · 21 days

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a/n: a little fic inspired by a convo @youunravelme and i had a couple of days ago! couldn’t stop thinking about this little idea and just had to write it ☺️ a little bit more lore in the squeaks’ verse added here and lots more to come! enjoy!!

tw: a little innuendo, domestic fluff

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s talia’s first day of kindergarten and neither you nor mat is handling it particularly well

mat and t’s first day of kindergarten

You lean forward on the counter and smile at Talia, who’s looking at you skeptically. “How about we pick some snacks for your lunch tomorrow?” You ask chirpily.

“How about no?” Talia looks back at you with wide hazel eyes and a nervous tilt to her lips. Her fingers twist together and she kicks the heels of her feet against the legs of the stool she’s sitting on.

“You’re going to be hungry if we don’t pack any snacks,” you reply reasonably, unzipping the brand new Disney Princess lunchbox you’d picked up a few weeks ago at Target. The rush of back to school shopping, even if it wasn’t for you, was a high like nothing else. You’d gone slightly overboard on the supplies and in a burst of excitement, had bought yourself a new planner and half a dozen packs of various styles of pen. You can’t help but get excited about stationary.

“If I was home I wouldn’t be hungry and I could have snacks whenever I want,” Talia points out, tugging at the end of her dark braid. She twists her fingers in the hair below the tie and you reach over the counter to gently untangle her fingers.

You prop your chin on your palm and nod. “You could. But you’re not going to be home. It’s your first day of kindergarten and you’re going to have so many new experiences,” your tone is infused with excitement and you’re relieved to see that the nervousness in Talia’s expression fades a little. Her mouth twists to the side, eyebrows drawing together over her nose.

“Am I gonna see Tulsa?” She asks, hopeful.

“Tulsa’s in the next school, remember, baby?” You reply carefully, hating to burst her bubble. “She moved to a new school too.”

Talia’s lower lip quivers and she sounds impossibly sad when she says, “I thought me and Tulsa were gonna be in school together?”

“Not this year,” you reply sympathetically, but then perk up to continue, “we’re still getting first day of school ice cream with Tulsa and Gunnar and Aunt Holly and Uncle Bo. That’s exciting, right?”

Talia’s eyes light up at the promise of ice cream and you knew that would work. She’s her father’s daughter when it comes to her sweet tooth.

“And you and Daddy, right?” She asks, leaning up in her knees on the stool, little palms pressed flat against the countertop.

“And me and Daddy,” you confirm. “We’re even bringing you to school in the morning, before Daddy goes to work.”

“Okay,” Talia nods once, decisive, and her mood about starting kindergarten is all but gone. “Mommy, can I have fishies for a snack tomorrow?”

You move around the kitchen, gathering up the components for her lunch, “sure, love bug, you can have fishies.” The snack-sized packet of Goldfish get tossed into her lunchbox, along with a handful of raspberries, a peeled Cutie, exactly five pretzel twists, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich cut into stars, and a small water bottle. Now that she’s into it, Talia’s definitely got opinions on what should be included with her lunch.

“No, you can’t take seven cheese sticks,” you sigh, pulling the bag out of her hands and replacing it in the fridge before shutting the door. “I’ll give you one.”

“But I want six!” She yelps, hanging from the fridge handle. “I want six!”

“Six what?” Mat’s voice echoes through the kitchen, the back door closing behind him.

“Daddy!” Talia squeals and makes a beeline for his knees, crashing into them with a muffled grunt from Mat. He holds the pizza box high over her head in one hand and rubs at her head with the other. “Mommy won’t let me have six cheese sticks.”

Mat grins at you over Talia’s head and you roll your eyes back, crossing your arms and leaning a hip against the counter. You wait to see how he’ll handle it.

He slides the pizza box onto the counter and hoists Talia up next to it, leaning his palms on the counter and kissing her cheeks until she giggles. “Mommy is always right, Talia Bee,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to knowing how many string cheeses you can eat.”

You smile to yourself, turning to the cabinets to get out plates and glasses for dinner. Mat keeps talking to Talia behind you. “Besides, the last time you ate three string cheeses you puked on my sneakers, what do you think six would do?”

“Uhhh,” Talia’s eyes go wide and she cradles Mat’s face in her little hands, “puke six times?”

You and Mat wrinkle your faces into matching expressions of disgust. “Yeah, we don’t want to do that, right?” Mat laughs, tickling Talia until she shrieks for him to stop.

Before Talia can knock into it, you slide the pizza box out of her reach, warmth filling your stomach at how adorable Mat and Talia are together. Every time you see them, with their dark heads bent together conspiring, your heart lurches with love. Having a family with Mat is all you’ve wanted since you’d seen him around his teammates’ kids.

“Daddy?” Talia pipes up a few minutes later, half-chewed pizza in her mouth.

“Swallow first, please,” you remind her, snagging the green peppers off of Mat’s slice. You have no idea when he even orders with green peppers when you’re the only one who likes them.

Talia chews and quickly swallows while Mat waits with a soft smile on his face. “Can I wear my helmet to school?” She props her chin on her fists and grins charmingly at you both. Her hockey helmet is covered in stickers and glitter, a project with Mat that you hadn’t been privy to before it happened. She’s really easy to spot on the ice during her skating lessons though.

Mat grins at your daughter, clearly delighted at the prospect of her walking into her classroom with the decorated helmet on, but he shakes his head a little. “I think your helmet is better left on the rink, TB. Didn’t you and Mommy pick out a dress?”

You casually slide a few carrot sticks on her plate, mentally fist pumping when she grabs one and absently starts chewing on it. “Yeah, baby,” you chime in, “I thought you liked the dress we picked? With the blue stripes and your fancy heels?”

Talia’s fancy heels are a regular old pair of sandals with a twisted knot over the toes and an ankle strap, but they also have a quarter of an inch thick sole by the heel and so, they’re “fancy heels.”

“Oh yeah,” Talia nods. “I forgot. Can I bring Sparky?”

“Sure you can,” you agree. “But he has to stay in your backpack, okay? We don’t want him getting lost.”

“And maybe,” she plucks her fingers at the crust of her pizza, “maybe I can take Daddy’s hat. And maybe my sparkle jacket?” Nerves creep into her voice and it wavers a bit, making your heart clench painfully. You just want to protect her from all the bad feelings.

Mat reaches out to tug at the end of her braid, “you can take my hat in your backpack too.” His lips twist up to the side a little, concerned about Talia’s nerves.

“And you can wear your sparkle jacket over your dress,” you promise. Mat’s Stanley Cup Champion hat and Talia’s customised playoff denim jacket had been staples in her wardrobe all summer and you’re not surprised that she wants to bring both with her to school as comfort items.

Talia beams and Mat slings his arm over the back of your chair, relaxing now that Talia’s happy again. “How about you finish that pizza and we get in a little park time?” He suggests, laugh echoing around the kitchen when Talia jumps up on her chair to start chanting about the park.

After clearing up dinner and wrapping the leftover pizza up, the three of you head out to the park, Talia zipping ahead of you on her little pink bike. Mat links his fingers with yours and you squeeze his hand gently.

“She’s getting so big,” he comments sadly, his lips turning down in a frown. You look up at his side profile, studying the way his eyes never leave Talia for a second. Your heart flips in your chest, a painful lurch when you think about how you should be holding another baby right now, how you want so badly to give Talia younger siblings. Mat looks down at you and squeezes your hand tightly, drawing you away from the negative thought spiral. His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile and you know he’s about to say something out of pocket to lift your mood. You wait and sure enough, he says, with a little twinkle in his eye, “maybe we should homeschool her?”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest, the absurdity of his question slash suggestion easing the knot in your chest.

“Mat, baby,” you giggle at him, “you have a high school education and I can’t do math. It took all of my brain power and patience to teach her how to read and write.”

“Okay, homeschooling is out,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick peck before running off to the swings, where Talia is calling for him to push her. She still has her helmet on and it’s tipping just a little bit over her eyes. Mat’s behind her in an instant, sending the swing higher and higher into the air. You reach Talia’s bike and set it upright, sitting on the seat and watching your two favorite people in the whole world laugh together.

A warm early September breeze ruffles your hair and you wave when Talia shrieks for you to watch how high she’s going. You want to live in this moment forever and commit every detail to memory.

Mat spends the next forty-five minutes chasing Talia around the park, wearing her out enough that bath time is a breeze and she slips under her covers with little argument. You and Mat pile into her bed too and Talia curls up against your side, yawning widely. Mat reads Madeline, voice getting quieter and quieter as Talia nods off, until he’s stopped reading altogether and her mouth hangs open, face slack in sleep.

“Sleep tight, love bug,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head before easing out from under her arm. Mat helps, holding your waist and keeping you steady as you get to your feet. He plants his own kiss on Talia’s forehead and clicks off the bedside lamp and turns on the nightlight before following you out of the room.

A sort of bittersweet mood traps you and Mat while you get ready for bed later. You know she’s ready for school, ready to make new friends and learn, but it’s hard to know that your tiny best friend is going to be out of your sight for eight hours a day now.

“She’s going to kill it,” Mat says, opening his arms for you to cuddle close. You rest your cheek over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” you sigh. Your legs tangle with Mat’s under the covers. “What am I going to do with my day now?”

“Bottomless brunches and window shopping at the Americana,” Mat teases, kissing the crown of your head.

You tuck yourself even closer to him, soaking up his body warmth. “Oh ha,” you drawl. “Very funny.”

“It’s why you married me,” Mat chirps and you know he’s grinning without even having to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Definitely not for your big….wallet.”

You giggle and Mat groans, training his fingers up and down your spine, making you shiver. “That was even worse than mine, Squeaks,” he mutters.

“Guess your terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on me,” you snark, kissing Mat’s chest and closing your eyes. He mutters something under his breath, but his heartbeat is steady in your ear and you’re asleep before you know it.

The next morning is harder than you expected, emotion clogging your throat as you get a special breakfast - Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, bacon, and fruit cut into different shapes - ready for Talia while Mat helps her get dressed.

He’s surprisingly adept at doing her hair, a high ponytail braided and tied off. There’s a big white bow at the top of her ponytail and her smile is huge as she spins in the little blue and white striped sundress.

“I love this dress, Mommy,” she beams, wiggling excitedly while you tuck a napkin into her collar to keep her clean.

“You look like a princess,” you compliment her. “Daddy did a really good job with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Mat wiggles his eyebrows and sits down to his own plate of Mickey pancakes.

Talia looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth with both hands while she tries to whisper, “Daddy messed up soooo many times.”

Mat’s lips flatten into a straight line and he looks at Talia with sarcasm written plainly on his features. “Gee, thanks, TB. I thought we agreed not to tell Mommy that?”

Talia shrugs at him and returns to her breakfast, humming happily under her breath. You smile at Mat and lean over the counter to kiss him gently, darting your tongue out to lick up a drop of maple syrup on his lower lip. “I still think you’re pretty impressive,” you whisper against his lips.

Mat grins against your lips and Talia makes a fake gagging sound, “kissing’s gross!”

You pull back from Mat with a laugh and point your fork at your daughter. “You won’t always think that, now finish breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”

Talia shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, slightly less enthusiastic, and you kiss the top of her head before going into the front hall to find her backpack to make sure everything is packed up. It’s heavy, full of fresh supplies (including a 64-pack of Crayola crayons with Talia’s initials Sharpied onto each individual crayon, a fit of mania from Mat, because “no one is going to try and snake my baby’s crayons from her!”), the Disney Princess beach towel that’ll be used for nap time, and one of Mat’s old button downs that’ll be used for a smock during art class.

You zip the backpack and settle it back against the wall, swallowing the emotion clogging your throat. Seeing all of Talia’s gear packed up is making everything so much more real.

Mat’s hands on your hips startle you a little, and you jolt back against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” He mutters, kissing your cheek. His palms are warm on your sides, fingers splayed towards your belly button.

“Just thinking about how it seems like time is moving so fast,” you sigh.

Mat nods against your neck and mumbles into your skin, “can we get serious about trying for another again? I miss the baby years.”

Your heart beats in triple speed in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins, but you nod, whisper, “yes, definitely. I want another baby, Mat.”

The conversation is halted when Talia comes stampeding into the hallway, twirling around. “Mommy! Can I wear your lipstick?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pouts adorably. You should resist, tell her no and swipe on a little of the Pink Sugar Summer Fridays lip balm that she loves instead, but you find yourself nodding and pulling away from Mat to grab your purse off the hook.

“Sure, baby,” you squat in front of her, digging out the well-loved tube of Black Honey from the bottom of your purse. Talia puckers her lips out in a kiss and you swipe on a little bit of the sheer balm.

Twenty minutes later and running slightly behind schedule, after you make Talia pose for a few pictures with her Back to School board and she insists on Mat sitting on the step next to her for a picture, you’re all buckled into Mat’s car for the quick drive to the primary school. Talia’s swinging her feet in her booster seat, smiling happily now that she’s wearing the red cowboy boots Aunt Liana had brought back as a souvenir from her trip to Nashville over the summer instead of the sandals you initially wanted her to wear.

“Mommy,” Talia sing-songs, “I’m hot.”

“The air conditioning is on, T,” you sigh, rubbing at your temple. You know she’s probably hot because of the boots and the denim jacket she’d insisted on wearing. Her sandals are in your tote bag and all she has to do is ask for them, but a stubborn streak runs through your daughter, inherited directly from both you and Mat.

You can see the side of Mat’s lips tick up out of the corner of your eye, his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel as Justin Bieber plays on the radio - the old-school throwback station, which makes you feel ancient. He looks at Talia in the rear view mirror and says casually, “I bet you’d feel better if you let Mommy give you the sandals.”

Talia’s face crinkles up in disgust. “I don’t want the sandals. I wanna wear my Mashpill boots.”

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, it’s getting rarer that Talia mispronounces a word, so you’re living for the Nashville/Mashpill mistake.

“The sandals won’t be as hot,” Mat says, and then, laughing, adds, “plus your feet won’t stink!”

“My feet don’t stink!” Talia gasps, outraged. She shoots back, shouting, “your feet stink!”

You laugh and Mat mock-glares at you. You give him an innocent smile, teasing, “keep your eyes on the road, dear.”

Mat scoffs at you, rolling his eyes even as a full smile graces his lips. Talia’s still chanting in the back about stinky feet, at the right age for the silly humor. Mat reaches out and rests his hand on your thigh, letting his fingertips drift up under the hem of the linen dress you’re wearing. The pads of his fingers dance lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you shiver a little, goosebumps rising on your arms. Mat’s smile turns smug and he taps the volume button on the steering wheel with his other hand, singing along loudly to the Billy Joel song now playing. Talia’s little voice chimes in from the back seat with her made up lyrics, and by the second verse, you’ve joined in for the three-part harmony.

Mat pulls the car up to the curb outside of the school, parking behind a line of SUVs before turning the car off and pocketing his keys.

“Ready, T?” You turn around in your seat, smiling widely at her.

She sighs and kicks her feet up at you. “Mommy, can I have my sandals?”

Your smile softens and you nod, reaching behind you for the tote resting at your feet. “Sure can, baby. I think you’ll be more comfortable this way,” you reply, getting out of the front seat so you can open Talia’s door and change out her shoes before she hops out of her booster seat. Mat’s already out on the sidewalk, holding her little pink backpack in one hand.

He looks like such a stereotypical dad in his dark jeans and navy polo, hair scraped back off his forehead and slightly beat up sneakers. The little pink backpack just makes him even hotter and you can’t help but stare. When Mat catches you looking, he gives you a slow smirk and a quick wink, holding his hand out for Talia to take.

She grabs his hand with her free one and lifts her feet off the ground without warning, swinging between you and Mat. Your arm nearly pulls out of its socket and your heart skips a quick beat, but Talia giggles and you love that she feels safe enough to do that. Mat swings his arm, sending Talia forward and eliciting even more giggles.

“Maybe we can just skip school and go to the park?” Talia asks, planting her feet back on the ground and squinting up at the school. It’s a cute little square brick building, kindergarten and first grade classrooms on the outside of the hallways and glass windows looking in on a courtyard. The ceilings are lower inside to make it more welcoming to the kids and Mat can brush the ceiling tiles with his fingertips when he stretches his arm over his head - something he had learned during the open house a few weeks ago.

But from the way Talia’s looking at the building now you’d think she was standing in front of Hogwarts.

At the same time you open your mouth to suggest going to the park after school, Mat pipes up and says, “that’s a good idea, TB. You don’t need to go to school, you can just stay home with Mommy.”

“Mat!” You hiss at him over Talia’s head and he cocks his head at you, barely looking apologetic.

“What?” He mutters back. “It’s an option.”

“It’s not!” You say, at the same time Talia says, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

You glare at him, hoping your expression conveys the exact levels of ‘see what you did?’ that you’re feeling. Mat’s mouth curls in a sheepish expression and you can see his hand tighten around Talia’s, like he’s not going to let her into the school. Before any of the three of you can say anything, you spot a tall older woman striding down the path towards your little group. You recognize her as the principal and are bracing yourself for the absolute hysterics that Talia is sometimes prone to.

“Hi Talia,” she smiles, bending a little at the waist so she can be at eye level with your daughter, “I’m Mrs. Seaver, the principal. Do you remember meeting me at open house?”

Talia nods, totally mute, her fingers tightening around yours. Your hear squeezes a little for her, nearly ready to break down and bring her home, like Mat had suggested.

“Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in your classroom?” Mrs. Seaver continues, somehow managing to get Talia’s hand and backpack away from Mat and starts walking her back up the path to the school. “Your mom and dad will be so excited to hear all about what exciting things you got up to today.”

Talia looks back at you over her shoulder, an apprehensive look on her face. Mat makes a move to step forward and follow them, but you reach out to lace your fingers with his, tugging him back gently. “We literally cannot keep her from going to school,” you whisper, pasting a bright smile on your face and waving at her with your free hand.

Mat looks constipated and you nudge him with the back of your hand, muttering, “smile,” until he manages something halfway decent.

“She’s just a baby,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, waving like a robot. “She shouldn’t be old enough for school.”

You sniffle a little, watching the door shut behind Talia and the principal, your hand dropping from the air. “I don’t understand how time went so fast,” you hiccup, tears building at your lash line. Anxiety starts to churn in your stomach. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we should keep her home another year.”

“Oh, whoa,” Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest so he can hug you tightly. “We definitely need to distract you, if you’re starting to agree with me.”

He laughs and you manage a weak giggle against his shoulder. Mat’s hands are warm against your back and you melt into him. “I’m going to miss having my little sidekick around,” you confess, suddenly exhausted from holding it together. Other than a few hours a week at pre-k, Talia’s been by your side practically every second since birth.

Mat drops a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to hit the gym, why don’t we go home and make you a new sidekick?”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you pull back from his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, Mat,” you murmur, heart pounding wildly. He’d said about trying again earlier, but you weren’t really sure if he was serious.

“Not teasing you, Squeaks,” he replies, the familiar nickname falling from his lips warmly. At this point, he uses it more than your given name, the curse of those damn Nikes. Mat grips your chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts it up a little more so he can bend his head and kiss you sweetly. “Let’s give it another try and if…well, if not, we can look more into surrogacy again.”

Your head bobbles a nod and your heart swoops a little in your chest, the excited/nervous fizz of Mat’s words making you feel a little dizzy. Baby making is a land mine sometimes for your brain, but right now all you know is that everything in your body is screaming for your husband to give you another baby.

Mat’s grip on your chin tightens briefly and he kisses you again, lacing your fingers with his to drag you back to the car. You skip along behind him, laughter fighting to escape your lips.

“Should we make this one in the bedroom?” Mat teases, holding open the door for you. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. “Or in the shower like T?”

A flush works its way up over your chest and face, your entire body going hot. Mat laughs at the expression on your face and you mutter, “we don’t know it was the shower.”

“Right, could’ve been the back seat of the car or the couch or in Bo’s bathroom,” Mat’s eyes dance, his smile wide and shit-eating.

You can’t help but smile back at him, electric delight working its way through your veins.

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