#Pierre luc Dubois fic

[wyattjohnston]

never said a thing - pierre luc dubois

summary: everyone knows that luc wants a trade... you're just the only person he hasn't told directly.

word count: 2,667

main character: gender neutral reader

note: this is a very very late pinch hitter fic for @pcttymcrlecu as part of the summer fic exchange 2k23. thank you for your patience!

i had to fudge the timeline because i didn't realise luc's trade request happened post-season. i really feel like it happened before the trade deadline

You’d known about Luc’s trade requests before you met him—the entire city of Winnipeg, the province of Manitoba and the entire NHL fan base knew. It was inescapable, just like it had been when he was moved to Winnipeg after requesting a trade out of Columbus.

You were happier about the first one, less so about the second and that only got worse as time went on and the official third one came.

Meeting Luc wasn’t anything you’d planned but had still taken longer than you’d expected it to. Winnipeg wasn’t small, though it certainly wasn’t the largest city, and everyone seemingly had some sort of connection to the Jets—even if it was a Six Degrees of Mark Scheifele sort of deal.

A friend of a friend knew where the younger Jets players liked to spend their free time, as if that wasn’t widely known by everyone in their 20s anyway, and you found yourself in the same bar as Luc, Logan and Jansen.

You found yourself at Luc’s house a lot after that.

Nobody seemed to mind the weird, nebulous state of your relationship—situationship is probably the best word to describe everything that you were. It hadn’t mattered, not really, that you showed up at Luc’s house at the first text with little care for the time he sent his you up? text because he was always just as quick to show up when you sent him a photo of your empty bed without any words to accompany it.

It was always You and Luc, even though there was no You and Luc.

The trade request rumours go unmentioned in the time you spend together—the first alleged request being negated by a one-year contract and the second, the most recent, never coming up. You couldn’t forget them, though. You caught yourself looking at Luc when his back was turned, hoping you could will him to talk to you. Hoping he would explain the request. Hoping he would tell you directly.

Time passed, though, without any mention from Luc that he no longer wanted to be in Winnipeg. Without any mention that whatever You and Luc were had an expiration date.

The Jets lost four games in a row, ending their season in the first round of the playoffs. It hurt because they’re your team—a crushing disappointment especially after winning the first game so soundly and taking game 3 to second overtime—and you watched every game from start to finish.

It was another turning point in your situationship with Luc. As much as you were always a text message away, Luc never asked right after road trips. You never expected him to. It was a boundary set in place that you were more than happy to adhere to.

Except.

The text wasn’t even the usual you up? but an explicit come over that had your heart rate spiking. It was the most direct either of you had ever been and you didn’t know what it meant at all.

He’d barely arrived home when you were buzzed into the building if the suitcase at the door was any indication. He looked exhausted, standing beside the intercom with his forehead pressed against the wall.

You didn’t wait before moving towards him, your footsteps disgustingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment, and pressed your forehead into the space between his shoulder blades.

In a hoarse voice, muffled by the wall he was leaning against, Luc asked, “When’s it my turn to win?”

He wasn’t crying, something you were grateful for because you knew you were ill equipped to deal with it, but he may well have been. The sagging of his limbs, so tired and dejected that his muscles weren’t even tense, and the defeat in his voice were foreign to you.

“What do you need from me?” you asked, unable to think of anything else and not wanting to make a wrong move and upset him even more.

He signed, his entire body shaking with it, and admitted that he just wanted to go to bed.

You agreed, despite it being far from what you’d gone for. Moving him was easy; he put up no resistance as you led him down to his room. You’d never seen him so low, never moved him so easily, and, as many times as you had undressed each other in that very room, taking his clothes off was the strangest part of it all.

He helped you undress him in so much as he moved his limbs when he needed to, but he was very much just doing as he was told.

“You’ve got so many more years in you, Luc,” you said when you were finally laying in the bed.

“It never feels that way.”

Waking up in Luc’s bed wasn’t strange by any means, nor, quite frankly, was the morning wood pressed against your lower back. Being the familiar territory that it was, you roused Luc from his sleep and started your morning the right way.

He was visibly happier than the night before—or, maybe not happier but definitely less noticeably distraught—and falling into old habits was simple and welcomed by both of you. The closeness, physical and emotional, something he needed judging by the way he held you through breathy moans.

It wasn’t until you were showered and sitting at his kitchen island with a coffee as he got ready for end-of-season interviews, grumbling as he moved throughout the house.

Your timing probably wasn’t the best, waiting until you were standing at his front door saying goodbye just before he fronted the media, but you had never shied from the hard conversations. Even if you delayed them until the last—often worst—possible moment.

“I’ll see you when you’re back for training camp?” you asked tentatively, wringing your hands in your lap.

Luc hesitated for so long that you thought he might never say anything. He couldn’t meet your eye when he said, “Yeah. End of August, probably.”

You watched him carefully, scrutinising the painful casualness of his response, the lack of any giveaways that he was lying or that he hoped what he was saying wasn’t true.

You knew too much, though.

His casual demeanour faltered as you met him with an equally long silence—you weren’t hesitating for any reason other than to make him uncomfortable.

He shifted his feet and looked everywhere in the room except at you. He was opening his mouth to speak when you finally decided to keep talking, cutting him off.

“Are you ever going to talk to me about requesting a trade?”

Luc’s demeanour changed from confused to defensive immediately when he asked, “Do I need to?”

“I mean… yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. “You were really just going to leave for the summer and never come back?”

“I—” The colour drained from his face. “Yeah.”

With your hands pulling at the bottom of your hoodie, you felt your heart rise into your throat. There wasn’t anything else for you to say, which was a blessing because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure what would have come out.

You nodded once, stiffly, and then again after a beat before you let the barstool screech against the tiles as you stood. He didn’t make any move to stop you as you grabbed your purse, and you could feel him staring as you walked out the door. You cursed the apartment building for having quiet closing doors when all that would have made you feel better was hearing something slam behind you.

June came and went, July disappeared as quick as it arrived and August… well August dragged on painfully.

You worked through the perfect weather and the perfect photos your friends posted of their perfect vacations. It wasn’t all that different from every other summer since you graduated and it was no different to the previous summer because you didn’t see him then anyway.

A lot of energy had been spent trying to get him out of your mind, not least because all of your work colleagues seemingly spent their every waking moment talking about Pierre-Luc Dubois and his trade request. When the trade to LA had finally happened, all they could talk about was “eight years and eight point five million, who does he think he is?” or “he’s just going to ask for another trade in 2 years so jokes on them!”

You, though? Mostly you’d been able to move past it. August rolled around and you didn’t care about Pierre-Luc Dubois.

Until, that is, you were standing in The Forks Market, ready to eat your weight in mini donuts because it had been a long, long week, and, above every other head you saw him.

You couldn’t leave in the rush that you wanted to, or at least suddenly speedrun the market, because you did want your donuts more than you wanted to leave so you turned your head, tried to hide behind some other people and hoped that he’d never spot you.

That was too much to ask for, of course.

The stall called your name and you knew that everybody in the immediate vicinity had heard it but still you collected your food and tried to make a beeline for the exit only to have your name called again.

You stopped but didn’t turn around, hoping that maybe Luc would just turn and leave but you knew that was foolish. You felt his presence as he got closer, his body so much larger than those around him that even without seeing him you just knew.

He said your name, in such a deceptively soft voice that you had no choice but to turn around, to look at him and see a sorrow on his face that you hadn’t ever expected. Definitely nothing you’d ever seen before.

“You got something to say or?” you prompted when he just continued to stare at you.

“How are you?”

You recoiled at the question, your eyebrows pulling together, followed by an eye roll so rapid that it actually hurt. Luc flinched himself but didn’t rush to say anything else.

“That’s not the conversation I want to have,” you said, brutally honest. “Especially not with you. So, I’m going to take my food and leave. Enjoy LA.”

You stepped away, causing him to stand up straighter and reach for you—but only briefly before he thought better of it. Still, he said, rushed, “Come back to mine.”

“And why should I do that?”

“I have—” he cleared his throat. “I have to talk to you and I don’t want to do that here.”

You hesitated but ultimately agreed when curiosity got the better of you. As much as you’d not wanted to think about him, it had been impossible to shake the desire for any sort of explanation.

Walking into his apartment again didn’t feel like a bad idea, but it did feel weird to see it mostly empty with packing boxes stacked against the walls. You didn’t need to be reminded that he was going—gone—and yet the reminder still had you looking away instantly back to Luc.

Luc pulled out the food that he’d bought at the market—an actual meal—and set it down on the kitchen island where the only remaining seats in his apartment were, just three barstools.

“I hope they gave you a fork because I don’t have any cutlery,” he said sheepishly.

You sat down beside him, placed your own bag down and told him, smiling to yourself, “I don’t think I need a fork to eat mini donuts.”

The laugh that erupted from him shocked both of you. You more so, you thought, because you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him laugh so heartily, so carefree. It ended up being the reason for your abrupt silence, the joy being pulled from you and a donut being shoved into your mouth to avoid any questioning.

He didn’t seem to notice that your laughter had stopped for any reason other than deciding to eat, so he ate his curry still smiling and starting a conversation about Ryan Gosling as Ken that you had to admit was endearing even if you didn’t want to. Your own contribution to that conversation was minimal despite how much you had enjoyed the movie in the first place.

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked during a break in the conversation where Luc was getting ready to start playing the movie’s soundtrack. That was so far past normal that you had to get out of it, that you had to bring him back to the reason you’d even gone to his apartment in the first place.

Luc looked chastised as he put his phone back down on the table. He turned the stool so that he was facing you, the one stool still in between you, and all joy had fallen from his face. He reached one hand out, resting it on the empty stool, and inhaled.

“I asked for a trade.”

“So, I heard.”

“I can’t keep losing.”

“Oh,” you said, feigning sympathy, “Because the Kings got so much further than the Jets did. Understandable.”

Whatever was left of his openness disappeared, his face making it clear that he’d shuttered. You didn’t care, really, when that was the lame excuse you’d gotten.

“I don’t even care about that,” you said, waving off the poor excuse. “Honestly, I don’t care that you requested it because whatever it’s your career and your life, you can leave if you want—why didn’t you tell me, Luc? If I hadn’t asked, I really don’t think you would have told me.”

“I should have,” he admitted, without hesitation, his face relaxing into something somewhat remorseful. “I know I should have. Even if we’re just… casual, fuckbuddies, whatever we’re calling it, of course I should have told you. It just took me until you got mad for me to realise that.”

 “What? You didn’t realise I was human until that moment?”

“I didn’t realise you cared.”

That chastened you quite effectively, because it was true that you’d never given much—or any—indication that it was more than just sex. Not a great deal more, at least not until you thought you were going to lose him, but enough that the friends in friends-with-benefits had clearly meant a lot more to you than it did to him. You couldn’t have expected him to know that when your conversations were limited to if the roads were okay on the drive to one another’s place.

You admitted, quietly, your eyes averted to your lap, “I don’t know if I did until I heard you wanted out. Then I thought about it at length and by the time I asked you about it… Lying to me is just about the worst thing you could have done.”

“I didn’t think you’d bring it up,” he said slowly. “I really just thought you would leave; I’d go back to Quebec and then, when the season started, I’d be somewhere else and then you asked and… I realised I cared about leaving you behind.”

Your eyes fell shut, overwhelmed by what he’d told you. You were sure nobody had ever cared about leaving you behind before. You wondered, briefly, how long it would have taken Luc to contact you if he hadn’t seen you that evening, though it was something that could be found out later. More pressing was the confession you’d just received.

Your eyes opened, and Luc was looking at you with a softness and longing that overwhelmed you all over again. All you did was laugh nervously, shyly, to yourself, and tell him, “I don’t even know anything about you that I haven’t learnt from the Jets’ broadcasts.”

“I don’t think I know anything about you either,” he confessed, unabashed. “I want to learn; if you want to teach me.”

Please consider leaving feedback—reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

i forgot i have a tag list rip (very sorry if you’ve already seen the fic!!)

@fallinallincurls @spine-buster @2manytabsopen @xcicix @sorryjustafangirl @senditcolton @shinyfalcon4 @laurenairay @jarmorie @diary-of-jj @its-bitchin-belle-bitches @sssstarstruck @pr3nt1ss

[mrpldiddles]

thinking about a pld fic to the "baby let me lick on your tattoos" lyric from agora hills…

[buttercupjosh]

Y’all, please send me your hockey fic recs, I’m going to updating my fic rec list soon (my last updated list is here). Thank you in advance😌

Note: I don’t read smut

[starshine-hockey-girl]

I am just going to say ditto to each of these comments. The visceral reaction I had to PLD with his ex was a testament to how invested I became. The smut was perfection as always.

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[sweettomyhoney]

The race thing in the NHL is weird… Like no wags that are black (even with Black players). Black women get so much discrimination by athletes (and men in general) and even the ones who are Black themselves. A shocking example is with the France international soccer team: most players are Black or men of color (like 80% or even more), and yet you can count maybe like 2 black wags… It’s really sad. So much to fit a mold.

Obviously, the NHL is so intense with their “aryan” standards. Like we are shocked when a wag is a brunette….Like think about it, being a white brunette girl breaks the mold in this sport…It’s actually insane. We will be relieved and happy and applaud those guy if they follow or date brunettes. 😅 The standard is so low. It’s actually insane!!

Wag culture looks awful (especially the hockey one) to be honest and I would not wish for any WOC to be in an environment where there would be white mean girl behavior… I hope there is a change, but the first one to break this cycle will go through a hell of a time. And knowing also that some of the fans (male and female fans) are racists…Damn, like I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a black wag dating a white player, there would be the same reaction to when FKA Twigs (a black artist) dated Robert Pattinson. Especially, if it’s one of those Hughes bros or young player type who are popular with the ladies.

The brunette thing is absolutely insane?? one player even spoke about how some of the kids didn’t know which lady was their mom when they were running up to ask them a question because they all look alike. That’s absolutely horrifying. I don’t wish that type of pain on any women of color or black women. And I hate that we are conditioned to aspire to look one way in order a be seen by a man 😭

[hockeyboysimagines]

A very Merry NHL Christmas

Warnings: Mild cursing, some sexual humor, talks of Christmas, Jesus and the holidays.

This was originally planned for last Christmas but ya girl had writers block. So enjoy this now. Let me know what you think!

Note: this is a small group of blurbs about all the couples currently in process on my Masterlist. This won’t include anyone who’s not currently being written about. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and happy holidays to the rest🤍

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, the kids were asleep, and Matthew and Brady were trying to get Keith into a Santa costume without laughing too loud.

Chantal had one hand over her mouth as she watched them struggle with the zipper before finally closing the suit, and adjusting Keith’s beard. Brady was red faced, and coughing to cover his laughter as Keith whipped around and glared at him, while Matthew had one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his side laughing openly.

“I’m never doing this again.” He grumbled as he stepped into the boots and straightened up looking for the sack of presents. The kids had set up a hidden camera earlier in hopes of catching a picture of Santa putting presents under the tree. Taryn was outside picking up the reindeer food they had left in the front yard and making hoof marks on the front walkway, the milk and cookies had been disposed of and Emma, who would be spending her first Christmas with them since they got married, was sprinkling sand by the front door because south Florida Santa had no snow to work with. Noticeably pregnant Hallie rubbed her hands together and smiled excitedly. Keith placed the presents under the tree, keeping his back to the camera.

“They’re going to love this.” Chantal said giving her hand a squeeze.

Matthew was smiling at her from the doorway as he watched his dad carefully set out gifts and made his way over. He glanced down at her baby bump and rested a hand on it.

“Merry Christmas in there.” He said softly rubbing it “Can’t wait to celebrate with you next year. And by that time someone else will be taking up your space.”

“Uh I don’t think so.” Hallie said shaking her head “This mama is done….for a little while.”

“How many fucking-freaking kids are you guys gonna have Jesus.” Brady said around a mouth full of Christmas cookie. They were all looking at them mildly interested and Hallie wasn’t really sure how to answer.

Matthew shrugged “I guess until I don’t get it done on the first try.”

Her face burned in embarrassment, and she couldn’t believe she had let him answer, but the others were laughing. He threw an arm around her shoulders “But who am I kidding, that won’t happen. I’m 3 for 3. A triple champ.”

“Yeah kind of like an ugly, skinny, Conor McGregor.” Brady said elbowing him.

That started a scuffle and Hallie crossed her arms shaking her head, eyes moving over their house. Over the pictures on the walls they’d amassed over their years together. The ones that started with just them, and then their family, and then their children. Over the decorations, and lights, and ornaments the kids made for them at school that hung on the tree. Her life was so full, so wonderful.

Taryn bumped her shoulder and smiled, eyes moving around before coming back to meet hers “So? Is it everything you hoped for?” She looped an arm around her waist.

She nodded, reaching an arm around her “It’s more than I hoped for.” And then she laughed when Matthew and Brady’s scuffle dissolved and he came over and grinned at her.

“If you don’t stop fighting with Brady you’ll end up on the naughty list, and you won’t get any presents.” She said, reaching forward to wrap her arms around him, as much as possible, with the baby bump in between them.

“The naughty list is more fun anyways. It’s how I became 3 for 3.”

*************

Music played softly in the background of Pierre’s apartment as snow fell outside. It was warm and cozy, the house smelled of cinnamon, and Mila and Pierre were snuggled on the sofa watching the snow fall.

“It’s so pretty.” Mila said off handedly, eyes following the flakes as they blanketed the ground below them, creating a fluffy white blanket on the ground.

“Not as pretty as you.”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head up to look at him “Your so cheesy.”

“It’s all part of my appeal babe…which speaking of. I have something for you.” He nudged her so he could stand and disappeared around the corner and came back with a box.

“Here.” Pierre said handing it to her. It was long and rectangular shaped and she took it before looking at him.

“Didn’t I tell-“

“Oh shutup.” He said waving her off “Stop trying to police my spending habits on Christmas.”

She giggled and rolled her eyes “Okay Jesus.”

He held a hand up to his chest “Did you just take the lords name in vain…on his birthday?”

“Okay now you shutup.”

“Open it.” He said nudging his chin impatiently at her.

She pulled off the paper, which was no easy feet as it was wrapped like a car ran over it, and pulled out a long blue velvet box. Inside of it was a shining, glittery diamond bracelet.

“Pierre!” She said mouth falling open “This is-“

“Nope!” He held up a hand “It’s not too much. You are worth every single dollar I spent on that, which is none of your business before you ask.”

Mila bit her lip. It was gorgeous, platinum with what looked like a hundred tiny diamonds, held together by a small clasp with her initials on it.

“Well?” He was smiling widely “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it.” she held it out to him so he could put it on. She turned her wrist so the light caught the diamonds and smiled a little before looking at him.

“Merry Christmas Mila.”

*************

“Wake up! It’s Christmas Eve!”

Vince felt a weight bounce across his bed, rip the covers off of him, and a body wriggle under the blankets, kicking him out of his warm spot.

Josie had come barreling in the room, smiling so wide it could light up a city’s worth of Christmas lights.

“Noooooo.” He groaned eyes closing again. He reached down and pulled the blankets up over his head, and then pulled her closer, leaning down to kiss her deeply but she pushed away from him and tapped him on the lips.

“Uh uh. Santa says no funny business on Christmas Eve until we do something fun!”

“Well Santa can-“

“Ah! None of that or you won’t get any presents!”

She jumped out of bed and pulled the covers off of him, pointing at a neatly folded pile of clothing, “Get dressed. We’re going somewhere.”

He sighed and rolled over with a groan, but when he saw the look on her face he sat up. She looked so excited, hands clasped under her chin as she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

“Okay, okay I’m awake.”

She squeaked excitedly and bounced from the room, leaving him to get dressed and brush his teeth. She was bundled by the front door as he came around the corner.

“So where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

10 minutes later, he was chuckling as they stood in front of an outdoor ice rink, and he knelt down to tie her skates. He finally got them tied, even though her legs were shaking in excitement and looked up at her.

“Do you even know how to skate?” He asked as he adjusted her leg warmer over the top of her skate and then did the same on the other one.

“Nope!” She said brightly, tapping him on the nose and standing, hands resting on her hips “That’s why you’re going to teach me.”

He helped her out on to the ice and stood facing her, gripping both of her hands in his. He skated backwards pulling her along. It was slow going and he was laughing as she went split legged a few times.

“Hang on. I have a better idea.” He skated around her and pressed himself against her back, arms coming to rest around her waist.

“Hang on.” He said lowly in her ear.

Josie smiled with excitement as he started moving, allowing her to just let her skates sit on the ice without having to do anything else. She closed her eyes and breathed in, the winter air stinging her skin.

“Having a good time?” he asked from behind her.

“Always when I’m with you. Are you having a good time?”

“Of course.” He slowed down a little and walked over her shoulder to kiss her cold cheek “Even though I’m doing all the work. Santa had better reward me with a great gift.”

Josie giggled to herself thankful for Christmas with Vince.

And thankful that he didn’t know, she really did know how to ice skate.

************

“Smile!”

Mat snapped the picture of Leighton and Lucy in front of the tree and smiled.

“Beautiful.”

His first Christmas with his girls had been perfect. The entire month of December had been like something from a dream. Lucy had been to every possible Christmas event they could find on Long Island, often accompanied by her godparents, who were across town celebrating their first Christmas together. Snow angels, Christmas decorating, and even the first time she’d been in an ice rink had all happened in the part month and Mat’s heart felt so full it might burst.

“Let me see.” She squinted at the picture and smiled down at Lucy, who was looking more and more like her as she got older.

“Who’s that beautiful girl?”

He smiled down at them and stood up, setting his phone on the couch and picked up a box and went to hand it to Leighton.

“From Santa. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks you’re beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed, but pulled out a box and handed it to him. “Here open this first. I think you’re gonna love it.”

He sat on the sofa and pulled at the paper. It was small, enough to fit in his hand. The box was flat, with a cardboard lid and when he pulled it off he saw a blank sheet of paper that said “Pick me up.”

He glanced at her, to find her smiling brightly and she nodded “Go ahead.”

He gripped the paper and pulled, and from it another long sheet of paper fell like an accordion. He pulled it up to look at it and saw that it was t a sheet of paper.

It was a sonogram.

He whipped up his head to find that Leighton was now crying, cheeks red.

“Are you-Oh my god.” He reached forward to hug her, chin resting on her head.

“Are you happy?”

“More happy than I’ve ever been.”

She closed her eyes and breathed him in as he spoke again “This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten, and I love you.”

************

“Is this dress to short?” Ginny asked turning in front of the mirror. Beau leaned out of the bathroom and grinned in a way that was not appropriate on any level, but especially not on Christmas.

“Yes. You should definitely wear it. Can’t wait to take it off later.” He leaned back in the bathroom.

She smiled and looked at her closet for shoes. The Islanders Christmas party was in a half and hour and they were running a little behind.

She’d been on time until he came into the bathroom and cracked a joke about opening a present, which turned out to be his jeans and the rest of it was a Christmas story for another time. But not the kind you read before bed.

He walked out of the bathroom looking better than he needed to in a pair of grey pants and a black button up. Ginny paused while she slipped a shoe on, eyes moving from his face to his feet and then back up. He winked and smiled at her.

“Not bad huh? But you’ve got me beat. WOW.” He said as he took in her red dress, and heels. It had been a little over six months and she continued to surprise him by outdoing herself. This was the first big holiday they were spending together and tomorrow she’d be meeting his parents.

He stood staring at her “You look beautiful.”

She smiled and blushed a little. Though she was used to a slew of compliments from him, and she knew he was always being genuine when he said them. But it still made her blush.

“Thank you.” She said softly, slipping into her shoes and turning back to the mirror.

“Are Mat and Leighton coming?”

She nodded and sat at her vanity to find earrings “Yes. She said she has something for me.”

“Like a gift?”

Ginny shrugged “I’m not sure. She just said it was something I would love.” She smiled a little as she poked an earring in her ear.

“You know what I love? That dress. Gosh.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her hair over her shoulder to put in her other earring “Why are you being so nice to me? Keep being too good and I won’t let you unwrap my present later on.”

His mouth fell open “I think it’s supposed to be the other way around. Only people on the nice list get to unwrap presents.”

Ginny smiled at him over her shoulder “I much prefer my present openers to be on the naughty side.”

Beau leaned on the doorway, smile as wide as it could possibly get “Best Christmas ever.”

***********

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m not!” Nash giggled from the ground.

Travis was up on a ladder hanging lights from the archway inside the living room of their new house. She’d insisted for weeks that she didn’t want any there, until she announced she was throwing a Christmas party, and then decided the house wasn’t festive enough, which meant she’d shoved a bunch of lights into his hands and told him to hang them.

“Oh come on!” He yelled as he turned the bulb on one of the strings and the rest went out. He’d been fighting with them for 10 minutes “One goes out, they all stay on. One goes on they all go out!”

“Well at least we know that if hockey doesn’t work out, you won’t have a career as an electrician.” She said from the bottom of the ladder with a shrug.

He glanced over his shoulder “Ha Ha. I’m glad you’re having fun down there.”

“Of course I am. The view is fantastic.” She said with a wink.

Travis chuckled and went back to hanging lights, finally getting them all lit “Finally.” He turned to find her smiling at the bottom of the ladder, hands on her waist “How does that look?”

She nodded and pursed her lips “Perfect. Thank you.”

He shrugged “Don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do. And it makes you happy so it’s a win in my book.”

He made his way down the ladder and pulled her into his arms “Besides. A good deed on Christmas always gets rewarded and I-“

But he was cut short when there was an electrical pop and every light in the house went dark.

“It’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing. You can’t even see me.”

He grinned “I don’t need to.”

She sighed and he felt her arms slide around his waist “We could just stay here…in the dark I guess.”

“But then how would Santa find our house?” As he said that the lights all lit up at once just in time for him to see her smiled widely at him.

“Who cares? Nothing he could bring me would ever be a better gift that the one I have right here.”

***********

“Merry Christmas!” Sawyer yelled as she pulled open the door to find Nolan’s parents on the other side. She pulled them inside and out of the cold Winnipeg winter and into their cozy house that was full of friends and family.

Nolan was parked on a barstool at the counter watching Sawyer. She was having the absolute time of her life and just looking at her made him want to smile.

It had been a hard year. A hard few years actually but this one in particular had been rough. They’d had so much hope for Vegas and it had only been more of the same, and no one was sure that he’d ever be able to play hockey again. It was sad and scary and she held his hand every minute, but he’d come to terms with it now.

But he didn’t have time to think about it because Sawyer herself came bounding over, hanging mistletoe over his head and kissing him on the cheek with a loud “smack”

“Come on you Grinch! At least smile a little.”

He smiled and she made a face “I mean a real one. Santa is watching.” She pointed upwards.

“I thought that was Jesus who lived up there.”

“Yeah well then he’s watching too. So you won’t get any presents and you might get struck by lightning and that will ruin the whole holiday.” She grinned “And I’ll have to take all these decorations down by myself.”

He chuckled and reached forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you.” She said against his chest, quietly enough that only he could hear.

“For?”

“This.” She pulled back and gestured around “I know this isn’t your thing, but it means a lot to me that you let me throw this party.”

“It’s not that bad. I’d do anything to make you happy, you know that. My Christmas gift to you.”

She looked up at him and smiled the most beautiful smile “Your the gift that keeps on giving Nolan Patrick, and no gift could ever be better than spending my life with you.”

Nolan rested his chin on her head “Merry Christmas Sawyer.”

“Merry Christmas Nols.”

************

“Cash will you sit still!” Tyler grumbled as he tried for the third time to stick reindeer antlers on his head. Marshall, Molly and even Gerry were all sitting obediently, but Cash had shaken them off twice. Even though he was as uncooperative as possible, Ava was having so much fun. There was a magic in the air that only lasted one month out of the year that you couldn’t find any other time. The feeling of Christmas was unlike any other and it was the first one she was spending with Tyler, and the first one she could remember being excited for.

She was knelt down, phone in one hand, tennis ball in the other which had the attention of the other three dogs, waiting for Tyler to quit wrestling with their most unruly child.

“Freakin dog.” He said with a huff as he finally got them fastened and made him sit.

“Just like his dad.” She said smiling at him “Okay ready, hey guys!” She waved the ball so they all looked and quickly snapped several pictures before they all started moving with excitement.

“Got it!” she said tossing the ball.

All four took off running after it, skidding through the house and falling over each other like Bambi on ice, and Ava and Tyler both yelled “No!” as Gerry went flying right into the tree.

It swayed for a second before it fell in slow motion as Tyler raced forward to catch it, which he did, but not before it rained ornaments that hit the floor and rolled in all directions.

Ava covered her mouth the keep from laughing and hurried forward as Tyler tipped the tree back up on to its stand, and made a loud noise of annoyance.

“What’s so funny?” He asked when he saw her laughing.

“What’s funny is now you have to help me redecorate it. Since you conveniently seemed to be missing last time.”

“I was at practice.” He said eyeing her with a small smile.

“Sure. That’s why Jamie called looking for you.”

“That douche. Busted I guess. Okay I wasn’t at practice I was out-“ he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box “Buying this.”

She smiled and glanced up as she took it “That’s funny cuz I wasn’t here waiting for you, I was out picking up this.” She pulled a bigger rectangular box from under the sofa.

As they opened their respective gifts she heard Tyler make a noise like a gasp and an exclamation and she smiled. She’d had blown up and framed the first picture they’d ever taken together, them and all four of the dogs. It had been the first time Ava had let anyone take a photo of her in years, and Tyler was so proud of her for it. But she’d kept it hidden, telling him it didn’t take for months. This was the first time he’d seen it, and his eyes softened as he looked at it and then at her.

“I love this. Thank you it’s amazing. We gotta hang this.” He glanced around and picked a spot right by the front door “There. So people see it right when they get here.”

He turned as she pulled her own gift out, a silver locket with a tiny photo of the dogs on one side, and them on the other, and a date a time inscribed on the back.

“This is beautiful, but what’s this?” She asked pointing at the date and time that was engraved at the bottom.

“The day and time I saw you for the first time.”

“Oh my gosh.” She was blushing but he continued “That day and time changed my life. The only thing that could would have made it better was if you wanted to join the mile high club or something.”

She laughed and swatted his arm “Tyler!” She turned holding up her hair so he could put it on and then smiled “Thank you for this and for making every other day better than the one before.” She placed a hand on his heart.

“Thank you.” He said placing his hand over hers “For letting me.”

He squeezed her hand and then pulled her into a hug. He was warm, and she could feel his heart beating through his chest. Tyler smiled and squeezed her tighter. “Best Christmas ever. Don’t you think?” He asked glancing down. She nodded with a small smile.

“Better than all your others?”

“Everything with you in my life is better, Christmas included.” She closed her eyes and squeezed him tightly.

There really was something magical about Christmas.

************

“Ho Ho Ho!” Joel rumbled as he made his way inside of the Connolly’s house. He and Libby had gone home for Christmas and though they wouldn’t be able to stay long, there was no way they were missing her parent’s Christmas party.

“AH!” Heather screamed rushing forward to pull them both into a hug, as she had also voyaged home just for the holidays “Happy kissaversary lovebirds.”

Th house was packed with guests and family and friends, and Libby couldn’t stop smiling. It felt so good to be here in her parents house, on Christmas Eve, with Joel where their story had started. She’d kissed him for the first time right upstairs in her room, and at that moment their lives together began.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked from beside her, arm around her shoulders.

“Oh just about that Christmas Eve when I kissed you upstairs.”

“Uhm no.” He scoffed “It was me who kissed you actually.”

“Im thinking about-“ they turned to find Heather, standing with her sweater half open to conceal a bottle of wine under it. Discreetly they all made their way up to Libby’s room and out on to the roof, bundled in jackets as they each took sips from the bottle.

“Last time we did this we were teenagers.” Joel said from his spot next to Libby.

“The last time your mom had a party was when I was in Florida and you guys were in there making out, thinking we all had no idea.”

“Well you might, but my parents didn’t.”

Heather rolled her eyes “Yes they did Libby. They just didn’t think Joel had it in him so they didn’t care.”

Joel gave her a dirty look and an eye roll, and stared off into space for a second before he asked them “Do you guys ever think about what things would be like if you hadn’t moved here in 8th grade?”

“I don’t like to.” Heather said rubbing her arms “You moving here was the best thing that could have happened to us.” She said smiling at Libby “Because I gained a best friend and Joel finally found someone who would go out with him.”

Libby started laughing, breath turning into fog and Joel’s mouth fell open “On Christmas? Really Heather? Aren’t you already pretty low on the naughty list?”

“I live on the naughty list. Alright I’m not 15 anymore. It’s too cold for this, you guys coming?” She said as she climbed back in.

“In a minute.” She disappeared out Libby’s bedroom door leaving her with Joel on the roof. She reached forward grabbing his hand to hold it in her mittened one.

“If I hadn’t moved here in 8th grade, we still would have found each other some way.”

“You think?”

She nodded and looked out across town, at the black sky, white snow and twinkling stars above their heads “I do. Just would have needed some magic. Some Christmas magic.” She pointed at a star that streaked across the sky and disappeared before she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can you think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve?” He asked.

She shook her head “No. I want to spend every Christmas Eve here, and every other day of the year with you until we’re old and grey. Promise me that?” She looked up at him, eyes wide under her glasses.

“Promise. Merry Christmas Libby.”

“Merry Christmas Joel.”

[snoopyhughes]

as the seasons change (p.l. dubois)

@bqstqnbruin Christina! writing for you has been such an honor. I've been following you since I joined Tumblr almost three years ago and have always loved your fics. to write something for you this time is such a joy. 💖

I'm sorry to both you and Demi for the late post. I work 60 hours a week in summers and I'm taking a class that has taken up all of my time. But I promise my tardiness does not dim the amount of love I have for you both (and this fic).

as always: this is a work of fiction. it's hard to imagine why anyone would move from LA to Winnipeg after college, but I tried my best to make it as realistic as possible.

Christina, I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it. It has been such a joy to write this for you. And as always, Demi, thank you for hosting such a wonderful event for our community. @wyattjohnston

3k words. loosely edited, please excuse any mistakes. flashbacks that are not separated by a breaker are written in italics.

You never wanted to hate hockey. Growing up in Southern California, you had always tuned in with the Kings, even attending a few games. But in your mid 20s, you found yourself muting everything to do with hockey, trying to block it out of your head entirely.

It wasn't always like this. In fact, there was a time in your life where it was your entire life. Until it wasn't. You had met Pierre-Luc Dubois shortly after his arrival to Winnipeg. You were living in Winnipeg, fresh out of college working part time on the weekends at a bar. You picked up a part time job to help increase your funds from your starting salary. You truly did have your dream job, but it definitely isn't the dream pay. And moving from your hometown to Winnipeg caused a lot of additional funds.

As soon as you met him, you quickly became aware of his charm, charisma, and unfortunately, his impact on you. And how you could you forget him, with his silky accent always calling you "honey," no matter what the conversation entailed. Every greeting, every question, every conversation, was always started or ended with him addressing you as honey. His reasoning?

"You're as sweet as honey," his deep accented voice told you one day shortly after meeting him. He quickly looked around to survey his surroundings, and then whispered in your ear: "I'm sure you taste like it too."

Of course, your cheeks burned immediately at that. It was definitely not a conversation appropriate for your workplace, under the neon lights of the bar you worked at. Of course, Pierre was the one who was starting those interactions, but you never shut him down, and truthfully you bashed in the attention. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel beautiful. You had your share of guys in college and even a couple in Winnipeg before you met Pierre-Luc, but as soon as you met Pierre, you were done for. There had been no one once you met him, and there had been nothing after him. You had found yourself reminiscing on the times that you and Pierre shared. You were both in love, and you wondered how a connection so powerful, so addicting, had turned into heartbreak.

________

"Holy hell, who is that," your coworker Jess muttered out when the two of you were getting ready to get behind the bar for the night. It was a Saturday night, the Jets fresh off an afternoon victory. You had known that the Jets would frequent the bar you worked in after wins, hell you had met a lot of them, but you knew you had never met him. You would have remembered a face like his, a voice like his. A smile like his. Or a smirk, should you say.

"That's Pierre-Luc Dubois, newly acquired by the Jets and the most beautiful man to ever walk through our doors," another coworker, Anthony muttered as he tied his apron around his waist, causing you all to infer that he was familiar with the hockey player. You weren't surprised that he knew him. "Sports gay," the self proclaimed title that Anthony gave himself long before you met was incredibly correct. He had quickly become one of your best friends both at work and outside of work in the short year that you had worked at the bar.

Jess strategically decided to start at the other side of the bar from the players, causing you the responsibility to serve them. You never minded, you never had an issue with any of them. They always tipped well and were kind and friendly to you. They never complained about any service issues, and some of them even went as far to ask you about your personal life. The ones who did knew that this was an extra job for you and always threw in some extra money on top of the tip.

You made your way over to them, trying to pretend that you weren't just having a detailed conversation about one of them. Trying to pretend that you were unfazed by the eye contact that you made with him, by the way that his button up perfectly squeezed his muscular, tattooed arms.

"How's it going gentleman, wonderful to see you all again. Win today?" you asked as you placed coasters in front of them, never bothering with a menu. They always knew what they wanted. As they informed you of their win and made a few side comments, an accented voice that had become familiar quickly spoke up.

"Hi honey, I'm sorry I don't think I got your name. I'll have a jack and coke please. And I'll buy the first round for everybody while you're at it." The way the pet name flowed so easily off his lips should've been a bigger red flag, but you couldn't help but feel your cheeks burn at the comment. "It's Y/N," you informed him as you placed the drink in front of him, trying not to act like you had been extremely flustered by his words.

"Well Y/N, I haven't been here long but I can promise you you're the most beautiful woman in Winnipeg," he charmed, causing you to blush but also roll your eyes. "Don't mind Luc, apparently French men think they can say whatever they want to innocent bar workers," Adam joked, causing the rest of the guys to laugh. You had become very familiar with Adam in the time you'd worked at the bar. He was like a brother to you, and you appreciated the way he loosened the tension because you were incredibly flustered by his words.

But above all, it was the way that despite the teasing from his new teammates, Luc never flustered, his eyes still smoldering your own, and you knew you were in for some trouble.

--------

You were packing up your apartment, two years since that day that you met Luc. You had decided to move back home. Truth be told, Winnipeg never felt like home. It helped when you were with Pierre-Luc, but the homesickness was undeniable, and following your breakup from Pierre-Luc, it only got worse. There was nothing keeping you there anymore.

Although you were ready to leave, it was hard to ignore the memories of the apartment you were packing up, both good and bad. The joy of being with Pierre and the heartbreak. The giddiness of first meeting him and the emptiness of what you assumed would be the last time you ever saw him. All of those emotions existed inside of the four walls in your apartment.

As you wrapped up picture frames in packing paper, you wondered why you still had these up. It had been 6 weeks since your breakup with Luc, but the pain felt like it happened just yesterday. Your heart constricted at the picture that was looking back at you, a picture of you in the snow. It was the first time you had been alone with him.

"We're closed," you muttered out as you heard the doorbell chime from the front of the restaurant. You were cursing yourself for not locking the front door yet, but you also wondered why people couldn't just open their eyes and read the closing times that were so clearly printed on the very door that they had just opened.

"It's okay honey, I'm not looking for a drink tonight." the accented voice behind you made you tense up immediately. You had to have been dreaming. There was simply no way that he had come back for you. You had been thinking about him for days since he had first come in with the team. You truly did have a soft spot for the Jets team, but they never came in alone. They always came in a group, and never not on their unassigned assigned day: Saturdays. It was a few weeks later, and to your knowledge, there was no one else with him. You turned towards the voice and found that your suspicions were true.

"Hello again, Pierre. Nice to see you, but we really are closed and I'm really trying to get out of here before midnight. After midnight the streets get crazy," you explained to him as you finished up sweeping from behind the bar. "Yeah, I'm sure the streets are really crazy from the inside of your locked car," Pierre joked, causing you to raise your eyebrows. You hadn't known him long, really he had no reason to be protective of you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he would not approve of the words that were about to come out of your mouth.

"Oh, I walk." you muttered as you broke eye contact in an almost embarrassment. You weren't embarrassed that you walked, it was truly impractical to drive when it was only a few blocks and the streets were always mobbed, the parking almost worse. But you knew deep down it really wasn't safe, and it was embarrassing to be under the microscope like this. You really weren't used to it. You hadn't encountered many men who cared enough about you walking home alone. "Any straight man," Anthony's voice was like the devil on your shoulder in the back of your mind.

"You what?" Pierre grumbled, his eyes lighting up in an almost anger. "There's no way you just said that." He mumbled and you nodded your head. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I did. Did you even listen?" You were growing frustrated. You barely knew this man other than what you had read on Google, what right does he have judging your life decisions? "Yes, unfortunately I did hear what you just said. I can't believe you put yourself in danger like that." You scoffed at him, wondering if this was genuine concern.

"What do you care? I'm just the girl who pours your drinks." You muttered stubbornly as you brushed past him to lock the front door, trying to get back to what you had been doing in the first place: trying to close this damn bar so you could start your apparently infamous walk home.

"I know I haven't known you for long, but I already care about you. You're more than just 'the girl who pours my drinks.' I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. That's why I came back over here in the first place, to hopefully get a chance to talk to you." He was standing his ground, and you felt yours crumbling at his tone of voice, the care in his eyes, the warmth that was somehow radiating off of his body despite it being mid February in Canada.

"I know, I have no right to come in here and judge your routine. But at least let me walk you home. I'll never come back here again if that's what you want, but I simply can not come in here to see you and then let you walk home in the dark. I can walk 6 feet behind you if you want, but I'm not letting you walk alone." He took a step closer to you, reaching out to touch your forearm and you fought the urge to jump back, his touch almost burning you.

You begrudgingly agreed and let Pierre walk you home after you finished closing the bar. The task was surprisingly short, only lengthened by the presence and words of Pierre. You walked closely to Pierre, unconsciously trying to catch some of his body heat as snow was now steadily falling from the sky. It made you miss the warmth of your home, the beating sun, the rise and fall of the waves as you walked home from work a much better scenery than this, although the beauty of the snow was hard to deny.

As you walked up to the front door of your apartment complex, you turned towards Pierre and saw him smiling goofily at you. "What's so funny?" you wondered and he shook his head. "Nothing. You just look adorable in this snow. It's obvious you aren't from here." he chuckled and lifted his phone quickly to take a picture of you, an amused look on your face.

He turned his phone to show you the photo and you smiled, immediately falling in love with the picture. It's true, it was glaringly obvious that you weren't from Winnipeg. "We don't get much snow in LA," you muttered and Pierre gave you a quizzical look. "What on earth are you doing all the way out here?" He asked and you smiled. "My college roommate is from here. I was ready for a change when I graduated so I moved back home with her. I've been here for a year now and I'm still not too sure." you admitted, being more honest with him than you had been with anyone about your living situation, which surprised you.

"I've only been here a month. I've liked it so far, but it doesn't feel like home yet." The vulnerability between the two of you was sobering, reminding you of the weather. "Well it's cold, I don't want you to freeze. I'll call you an Uber back to the bar. Thanks for walking me, truly. I appreciate your concern." You admitted and he smiled. "It's nothing, really. But one thing. Can I send you this picture? I think it's really perfect." he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. "If you wanted my number, you could've just asked." You joked, now causing Pierre to blush. "That too," he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance.

"Goodnight, honey. I'll dream of you," he swooned, causing you to roll your eyes. "Goodnight Pierre." You hummed back. You would never admit that you dreamed of him too that night.

Tears streaming down your cheeks broke you out of your sorrowful flashback, the picture of you in the snow staring back at you. You kept it up at first to remind you that you could feel joy in Winnipeg, but as you packed it up, you realized that was obviously a failure.

You placed the picture frame in the now full box and sealed it with packing tape, grabbing a sharpie to label it clearly.

DO NOT OPEN.

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

That was March, and now this was September. Somedays the breakup felt like yesterday and somedays it felt like a lifetime ago. There was still an ache in your heart somedays and other days you found yourself looking at other people.

It was mid-September, but the sun was still beating down hard. You didn't miss much about Winnipeg, but somedays the sun beat down just a bit too hard and you found yourself thinking about how the four seasons were so prominent there. You closed the door to the bar you had found yourself in back in LA, feeling a sense of deja vu as you turned the lock and pulled on the handle to ensure it worked.

"I seriously hope you don't still walk home in the dark alone after work."

There was no way his voice was behind you. You had to have been imagining it. The deja vu must've been getting too real. You shook your head out and turned towards the street. But there was nothing imaginary about the figure in front of you. You had spent so much time memorizing his face, his body, his heart. You knew him like the back of your hand.

"What are you doing here?" came out before you could stop yourself, your palm coming up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "You didn't hear the news? 8 years upcoming with the LA Kings." You found yourself laughing out loud. There was no way.

"Well that can't be a coincidence." It was true that you missed Luc, a piece of your heart missing when he left. But that's exactly what he did: broke your heart. "Of course you were in mind when I signed. You're the love of my life." He admitted and you shook your head. "It sure didn't feel that way when you broke up with me."

It was probably an unfair comment, but you didn't care in that moment. He had shattered your heart when he left. Giving you no reason other than "it's the wrong time for us."

"That's not fair. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't have a choice. I was losing myself in that city and I couldn't let you watch it happen." He admitted and you scoffed. "So was I! God, Luc. I didn't think your pride was too big to admit that you needed help. You should've known I would've supported you." You came back at him with force, causing people on the street to stare at you.

"Of course I knew. I was embarrassed. I have loved you enough for three lifetimes and I couldn't even admit to you that I was struggling." You felt your heart crack. You knew that the toxic masculinity in hockey culture was unfair. You felt for him, that he felt he couldn't come to you with that. And while he loved you enough for three lifetimes, you loved him just the same. You felt tears brimming in your eyes, once again your self control leaving you.

"I missed you, Luc. So much," you told him tearily, causing him to bring you into a tight embrace.

"This time, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." And truly, you should've had more self control. You should've had more questions, more doubts. But in front of you was the man who walked you home the second time you met in a blizzard just to make sure you were safe. The man who helped you break down your walls and stood by you while you both fell and flourished. The man who would do anything to make you smile, make you feel loved. He was yours. He always would be.

You weren't sure how the universe aligned to bring you two back together, but as you held each other on the sidewalk, swaying back and forth under the street light, you knew you would be thankful for it everyday.

[2-fast-2-curious]

Can you please do another dom PLD audio

[M4F] Making you my theatre slut

[SFX][Voyeurism][Public play][Dominant][Trapped][Small girlfriend][Praise][Degradation][Public play][Thigh fucking][Resisting][CNC][I’ll leave it inside you, feel the space I’m taking inside you?]

Creator Reddit: u/JuggernautBrilliant2

[leafs-lover]

Who should I write about? Pacific Battle

I've had this idea in my head for weeks now, and I just can't get it out of my head, so I'm going to write it :)

That said, I am wildly impartial to who the player is and have decided to leave that up to you! There are some requirements for the player in order to make the story work, so unfortunately some players are not eligible for this.

This story is more smut than anything else, so the player isn't all that important to me. To make it easier to navigate, I am splitting the polls into each division, these polls will last one week. I will be taking the top 8 overall and making a poll with them. The winner of that poll is who I'll write about.

Metro Poll // Central Poll // Atlantic Poll

Quick fic summary:

Reader insert. Reader and player grew up together but an unlikely friendship (he was a jock and she was a socially awkward band member)

Smut, smut, and even more smut! (I may mix in a sliver of plot, but its basically all smut)

Player will be readers teacher, coaching her on everything in the bedroom 🥵

Could have multiple parts but they will all be stand-alone pieces. May also be months between them (I long ago gave up the idea of committing to writing schedules)

[bqstqnbruin]

Washington Capitals

Main Masterlist

If the links don’t work, let me know!

Pierre-Luc Dubois

Fics:

4 times he wanted to come over + one time he did 

Blurbs:

You just had a really bad day but PLD makes it better

You find a sweatshirt that you can’t keep anymore

You ask Pierre-Luc to bring you lunch

[amsbabygurl]

dress - a.m.

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo - auston matthews x fem!reader

a/n - this will be my first actual fic so pls be nice...

this fic contains a lil swearing and s m u t - fingering (that's it... keeping it tame for now)

18+ below the cut!

you love going to events with auston, you really do. to you, there was nothing better than getting all dolled up just to spend the night on his arm, politely greeting all the members of the nhl while being whisked around by your gorgeous boyfriend. he also makes it incredibly hard to focus on anything around you, as his large hand splayed across the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass, rubbing small circles in the silk fabric.

you know he's just trying to soothe you, as a room full of people this important to him and his career could be rather intimidating, but instead of being comforting, it was making you feel other things.

you press your lips to the shell of his ear, "i'm going to get another glass of champagne, do you need anything?" you whisper. he turns his head to look at you and softly shakes his head.

"don't be too long now love," he whispers back, ghosting a kiss onto your cheek, so he doesn't ruin your makeup. you smile up at him and nod, slowly skirting away through the scattered crowd to the bar.

this might sound cliché, but damn, auston hated it when you left his side but he did love to watch you leave. you look incredible tonight, the dark blue dress he picked out for you hugging your curves so perfectly. damn is he ever lucky.

still staring at you as you stop at the bar to get another drink, mitch clears his throat, grabbing auston's attention. "dude, you're basically drooling. it's almost embarrassing," he observes with a low chuckle. auston whips his head around to look at him.

"i just don't like leaving her alone at these things when she looks that good," he emphasizes. he knew if anyone would understand it would be mitch.

in the meantime, you ask the bartender for another glass of champagne, and he nods, quickly moving out of sight to grab you some. you look up and down the bar, not recognizing anyone, until a soft hand presses into the small of your back. but it isn't auston's hand. you know exactly how his hands feel. you slowly turn your head, hoping not to appear too startled, and come face to face with no other than pierre luc dubois.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?" he whispers, getting a little too close to your ear for your liking, feeling his hot breath on your face.

"i'm not here alone. i happen to have come with my boyfriend," you say to pierre, rather loudly, hoping to get someone's attention, hoping they might rescue you.

"i don't see him here though" he whispers again. you're growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, and with the bartender still gone fetching more champagne, your eyes scan the crowd looking for auston. he's not where you left him. an uneasy feeling settles in you as you give pierre a polite smile.

"i need to go to the bathroom," trying to give him an excuse and a reason to slip away and find auston. but he doesn't let his hand off of your back. "pierre, please let me go," you plead.

he starts to wrap his hand around your waist, when a deep voice comes from behind you. "i think she told you to leave her alone dubois."

auston.

you feel yourself physically relax, as his hand reaches out and wraps around your own, gently pulling you away from pierre's side. you grip onto his arm with your free hand, squeezing it gently in a silent thank you. pierre grunts, and with a nod, he walks away. you turn to face your boyfriend, his expression stern and hard.

"hey, it's okay. i'm okay my love," you say gently, your hand reaching up to cup his face. your thumb running soothingly over his cheekbone. he looks at you and his gaze immediately softens. you smile at him.

"i'm sorry baby, i shouldn't have let you off on your own. you look way too good for me to even think about letting you out of my sight," he whispers into your ear, both of his strong hands gripping your hips. you blush at his praise, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips. he must have other intentions than an innocent thank you kiss, as he presses harder against you, pulling your hips closer to him as he tries to pry your lips apart with his tongue.

"aus," you whisper, "we can't do this here. there's too many people."

"i know baby, i just want everyone to know that you're all mine," he whispers back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your jaw "let's get out of here yeah?" you nod quickly, and he turns you gently so your walking in front of him, a hand on your back that slowly slides down until it's resting firmly on your ass. you can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. as much as pda isn't normally your thing, you can't help but feel a swell of pride wash over you. no matter what happens he always takes you home with him.

the drive home is tense. not because he was mad at you, auston could never be mad at you, but because the tension brewing between you is so thick in the front seat of his car. his large hand has found it's normal spot against your thigh, but it's slowly creeping closer and closer to the heat at your core. you've been aching for his fingers ever since he kissed you so passionately in that room full of people. like he was reading your mind, his hand slides further and further up, until the pads of his fingertips are tracing your slit through the lacy thong you had put on just for him.

"aus" you moan, feeling the way his fingers slowly made their way up to circle gently around your clit.

"what do you need baby, hmm? use your words," he says as he stops touching you completely. you whine from the lack of contact.

"i need your fingers in me auston, please," you beg. a smirk crosses over his handsome features as he moves your underwear to the side, giving him easy access, allowing his fingers to slip inside of you.

"shit baby, all this is for me?" he growls, as he starts to pick up the pace, thumb still circling your clit. you let out a moan, unable to say anything as the pleasure is building inside of you. "only i get to see you like this, becoming a sloppy little mess just because of my fingers." you let out a small mewl at his words. "tell me baby, tell me i'm the only one that will ever see you like this."

"i'm all yours aus, always yours," you pant out, words becoming harder and harder for you as you start approaching the edge.

"that's my good girl," he says "now i want you to come for me baby. let me feel you come undone on my fingers." with these final words of encouragement, you let go. clenching and unclenching on his fingers, as he continues his slow movements, working you down from your high.

you turn to look at him as he pulls into the parking lot at your shared apartment. his pupils are dilated, as he brings up his cum soaked fingers to his lips and sucks the taste of you off of them. he moans at the taste and you whimper from just watching the scene. he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, hand coming up so his fingers can weave into the hair at the nape of your neck, allowing him to pull you into a searing kiss. you moan at the contact and the taste of you on his tongue.

"c'mon baby, let's go upstairs so i can take care of you properly," he whispers into your lips as his hand comes you rest on your thigh once again. you nod, getting out of the car, grabbing his hand and letting him lead you up the stairs. you are in for a long night.

a/n - if you made it through this, BLESS. also lemme know if you want a part two hehe

[wyattjohnston]

here we are! finally with the masterlist! all the thanks in the world to the 39 people who signed up for the exchange and the lovely D who came in as my saviour and wrote a pinch hitter fic without even being signed up

please read all the fics below, so much love and care was put into them and they all deserve your attention. a reblog if you can would also be incredible.

please respect all warnings at the beginning of fics. if a fic has been marked as smut or 18+ and you are younger than, do the right thing and do not read it.

keep your eye out for the winter fic exchange 2k24 sign up post. if you want me to let you know when it's happening you can click here.

the summer fic exchange 2k23 masterlist

Buffalo Sabres

Jeff Skinner

gotta trust how you feel inside by @laurenairay for @ nhl-stories

Tyson Jost

i should've fought harder by @butgilinsky for @ typical-simplelove

a Devon Levi fic was written by @waysicouldhave for @ jackhues but they have since deactivated.

Carolina Hurricanes

Andrei Svechnikov

Every Summer Has a Story by @comphy-and-cozy for @teokka

HATE HATE HATE by @luvmmarner for @ comphy-and-cozy this is a multi-chaptered fic, so keep an eye on it!

How Long? by @lifeofpriya for @ luvmmarner

Colorado Avalanche

Cale Makar

all's well that end's well to end up with you by @fallinallincurls for @ ya-pucking-nerd

i've found love (and all that goes with it) by @huttons for @ fallinallincurls

Mikko Rantanen

Do That by @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @ kurlyteuvo

Summer Baby by @typical-simplelove for @ buttercupjosh

Nathan MacKinnon

It Starts With a Cookie by @luvsherleafs for @ princessphilly

Dallas Stars

Jake Oettinger

taking on the world together by @laurenairay for @ jarmorie

Los Angeles Kings

Pierre-Luc Dubois

as the seasons change by @gravestrain for @ bqstqnbruin

never said a thing by @wyattjohnston for @ pcttymarleau

Minnesota Wild

Marc-André Fleury

Genève by @teokka for @ callsign-denmark

Montreal Canadiens

Juraj Slafkovsky

If I Say It, Will You Respond? by @puckmaidens for @ 2manytabsopen

Nashville Predators

Tyson Barrie

simple by @jxmieoleksiaks for @ laurenairay

New Jersey Devils

Dougie Hamilton

hydrangeas where your face should be by @nhl-stories for @ huttons

Jack Hughes

make it weird by @wyattjohnston for @ torontoflames

something in the way she moves by @miracleonice87 for @ wyattjohnston

Nico Hischier

See You Again by @bqstqnbruin for @ selfindulgentpoorlywritten

Underneath the Stars by @buttercupjosh for @ ilyasorokinn

Timo Meier

Sweet Like Cinnamon by @wildrangers for @ matthewtkachuk

New York Islanders

Ilya Sorokin

Polaroid Dreams by @kurlyteuvo for @ lifeofpriya

Mat Barzal

Alone With You by @cellythefloshie for @ miracleonice87

Disney Magic by @lam-ila for @ tinyhockey

tell me why by @torontoflames for @ luvsherleafs

where you lead i will follow by @ilyasorokinn for @prettytoxicrevolver

Pittsburgh Penguins

Sidney Crosby

Triple Axle Celly by @callsign-denmark for @ starshine-hockey-girl

Ryan Graves

a lake house story by @ya-pucking-nerd for @ thomasschabot

Seattle Kraken

Jamie Oleksiak

to the ends of the earth by @jarmorie for @ laurenairay

Tampa Bay Lightning

Brayden Point

one day all my love will come back to me by @matthewtkachuk for @ senditcolton

Toronto Maple Leafs

Matthew Knies

being a good man by @pcttymcrlecu for @ gravestrain

Vancouver Canucks

Anthony Beauvillier

Alone With You by @cellythefloshie for @ miracleonice87

The Invisible String by @starshine-hockey-girl for @ jarmorie

Quinn Hughes

i can still see it all by @ghostyjosty (jostystyles) for @ wildrangers

mango dragon refresher by @jackhues for @ lam-ila

saw you in a dream by @thomasschabot for @ puckmaidens

Surprise Party by @prettytoxicrevolver for @ ghostyjosty

Vegas Golden Knights

Nolan Patrick

Soothing Swedish Summers by @2manytabsopen for @ waysicouldhave

Winnipeg Jets

Adam Lowry

breakable heaven by @senditcolton for @ cellythefloshie

i am slowly making my own way through reading all the fics--if i haven't read yours and you want to make sure i don't forget, please send it to me.

if the person you wrote for hasn't read and reblogged your fic, please tell me.

[mrpldiddles]

y’all finals are taking over my life but i promise i’ll have new fics up soon!! very exciting (at least to me it is) stuff to come in the near future :))

[buttercupjosh]

I’m going to be updating my fic rec list this month so please send me fic recs!! (If you have any, either DM them to me or put them in my inbox) (please check out my original list first before sending me any repeat submissions)

Note: I do not read any smut.

[cellythefloshie]

Top 5 favorite fics you have wrote

Top 5 favorite fics you have read

(this equals the top 10 lol)

Top 5 Favorite Fics I Wrote in 2023:

Mama Bear - Jeremy Swayman/OC Alone with You Series - Mat Barzal/OC & Anthony Beauvillier/OC Just Me & You Series - Adam Lowry/OC Meant For Loving - Vince Dunn/OC You Are In Love - Pierre-Luc Dubois / Reader

Top 5 Fics I Read in 2023:

Breakable Heaven by @senditcolton We're A Bad Idea Series by @senditcolton Every Summer Has a Story by @comphy-and-cozy Work Wife by @hockeyboysimagines F*ck You Better by @holy-pucks

[pcttymcrlecu]

Psssst, it’s me! Your fic exchange writer! I hope you are as excited as I am for your fic! I have a couple quick questions for you so I can get started.

Love the list of players you have! Any chance you could give me a top 3? As a refresher, here is your list of gorgeous men: Andrei Svechnikov, Adrian Kempe, William Nylander, Josh Anderson, Brock Boeser, Pierre-Luc Dubois, Erik Johnson, Anthony Beauvillier, Nico Hischier, Colton Parayko, Mat Barzal, John Marino, Quinn Hughes, Elias Petterson, K'Andre Miller. (Can you see why I need you to narrow it down!? Your taste is excellent.)

Are there any songs or lyrics or quotes you love that you would like to see put into your fic?

If you do Spotify wrapped, what are two songs on there that fit your vibe?

What are the themes that have you kicking your feet? What themes would you be bummed out to receive?

Do you prefer reader-based fics or OC? If so, do you have a name preference?

You will be getting a happy ending! But would you perfect for it to be a full comfort fic, or have some angst to it as well?

hiii!! sorry this is a little late response 🫣 i am super duper excited though!!

I'm going to hide the answers under a read more so as to not bother people!

As a top three, I would probably choose (in no particular order): Andrei Svechnikov (I just adore him more than words can say), I am in my William Nylander era and because John Marino is new to my list this time around, I'll go with him!

Oooh I can definitely offer up some kind of input there but feel free to literally ignore it entirely. I do enjoy the whole vibe of At My Worst by Pink Sweat$ and Kehlani but also love Kodaline's Wherever You Are or these lyrics have recently struck a chord with me recently "I'm not a solider/But I'll fight through our darkest of days/Get on my shoulders/And I'll carry you all of the way" and also "I wanna slow dance in the living room like/We're eighteen at senior prom and grow/Old with someone who makes me feel young"

I don't do Spotify wrapped but I do use apple replay so hopefully that's fine for you as well! For this year: I think my vibe has been either anthemic or angsty so I'll give you one of each ahah - I'm Still Standing by Elton John and Unsteady by X-Ambassadors.

Anything Friends-to-Lovers/Idiots-to-lovers/the whole Requited-Unrequited Love thing gets me giddy all the time. Oh and how could I possibly forget Fake Dating. I'm a true hopeless romantic at heart so honestly if it could fit into the plot of a 90s/early 00s Rom-Com, it'll make my little heart sing. I really dislike miscommunication(in the sense of people not talking to each other - lost in translation/communication is okay). I'm not a big fan of pregancies (I prefer fun aunt/uncle/cousin vibes) but apart from that I'm not going to lie I'm pretty open, so long as it makes sense.

I like both honestly so I'm going to say it's up to you and what you're most comfortable with (I don't want to handcuff you too much) but it you want a firm response just let me know.

If it's 100% a happy ending, I don't mind a little bit of angst thrown in, you know - for character/dynamic development but I also would't be opposed to snuggling up with a cup of cocoa and the most wonderful piece of comfort prose to just destress a little.

I feel like I half answered a lot of your questions but please if anything is unclear and you need more clarification or you just want me to be decisive for once, let me know ☺️