#benchwarmers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misshoneyimhome · 7 days ago

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What’s up, buttercups! 💕

The saga continues with another chapter—chapter eight 😉 As I think I’ve mentioned before, I’m not completely satisfied with how the timeline has played out… as I didn’t want to rush anything, but here we are. Hopefully, it still makes sense and is enjoyable nonetheless 😊💕

For this chapter, I had quite a bit of fun writing certain parts of this one, so without further ado, let’s get to it! Happy reading 💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, smut 18+: oral sex (both m & f receiving), cum swallowing

Word count: 7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ;

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Chapter Eight: Unmasked & Unravelled*

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Game day in Toronto always carries a certain energy—a steady thrum of anticipation that stretches from the heart of Scotiabank Arena to the farthest corners of the city. But tonight, that hum has risen to a fever pitch.

Yes, the Leafs are set to battle their age-old foes, the Bruins—a rivalry that has left its mark on history in scars and scoreboards alike. But that is not the only duel taking place under tonight’s lights. No, there is another game unfolding, one just as captivating, though far more delicate.

Rumour has it that tonight, our Queen will attend tonight's game, though not with the court. There will be no stolen photos, no grainy glimpses caught through the glass of a private suite. No—tonight, she steps fully into the light, into the stands, among the people. A bold move, some might say. But one must wonder… is she simply fulfilling a duty, or is she testing her influence?

And what of the Ice King?

Auston Matthews has just returned from an uncharacteristically miserable road trip—two games, two losses, and a noticeable dip in the magic that has long made him the centrepiece of Toronto’s crown jewel. His usual brilliance on the ice has been blunted, his leadership questioned. Was it fatigue? Poor chemistry? Or—dare we say it—has the weight of his off-ice affairs begun to seep into his game?

And as always, let’s not forget the rest of the court. Nylander, slicing through defences with the confidence of a man who knows his worth. Marner, the magician, whose hands weave plays so intricate they leave even the opposition momentarily entranced. Rielly, the steady anchor, unshaken in the storm. And behind them all, Anthony Stolarz, the last line of defence, proving with every stop that he is more than just an understudy.

This is not just a game, Toronto. It is a performance. A statement. And by the time the final buzzer sounds, we will know: Is the Ice King still untouchable? Or has his Queen become his most formidable opponent yet?

Stay close. The story is unfolding before our very eyes.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

Tuesday –

The unmistakable hum of game night in Toronto was electric, a steady undercurrent of anticipation that pulsed through the city long before the puck even hit the ice. The streets surrounding Scotiabank Arena were a sea of blue and white, jerseys layered over thick jackets as fans funnelled into the building, their voices carrying that familiar mix of excitement and nervous energy.

You adjusted the beanie on your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you trailed behind Jess and Maya, who were practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Maya grinned, adjusting her Leafs scarf as she glanced around. “This is way better than watching from the couch.”

“I still can’t believe you agreed to sit in the stands instead of the VIP section,” Jess teased, bumping your shoulder as she led the way to your seats.

You sighed, knowing exactly what she meant. Sitting in the cushioned comfort of the suites, away from the rowdy masses, might’ve been the safer option. The smarter option. But it would’ve also meant hiding, staying on the fringes while the Benchwarmer and every sports outlet in the city continued to speculate about you.

Maybe it was time to stop tiptoeing around it.

“Being in the stands makes it feel more real,” you said, settling into your seat just two rows from the glass as the opening warm-ups wrapped up. “Besides, you two wanted the full experience, and I wanted to share it with you.”

Maya wiggled her brows. “Oh, we wanted the experience, but let’s not pretend you weren’t dying to come see your man in action.”

You shot her a look, but before you could retaliate, the lights dimmed, and the arena erupted into cheers as the Leafs skated out for the national anthems. The crowd was electric, a tangible energy crackling in the air, amplified by the long-standing tension between the Leafs and the Bruins.

You caught sight of Auston almost immediately. It wasn’t hard—his presence demanded attention even among twenty something other players on the ice. Dressed in the Leafs’ signature blue, his movements were fluid, confident, the easy grace of someone who knew the game inside out. As he skated past the boards, he stole a glance toward your section, subtle, fleeting—but you caught it.

And so did Maya.

“Oh my God,” she whisper-shouted, gripping your arm. “Did you see that? He looked at you.”

“It’s not that serious,” you muttered, but you could already feel the heat creeping up your neck.

Jess smirked. “Girl, if he scores a hat trick tonight, I’m telling everyone it was because of you.”

Before you could argue, the puck dropped, and the game began.

From the get-go, the Leafs set the tone. It was a fast-paced, high-intensity matchup, the kind where every shift mattered, and no inch of ice was given up easily. The Bruins, ever the physical team, threw their weight around, but the Leafs met them hit for hit, keeping control of the play.

Auston was a force—fierce on the forecheck, deadly with the puck on his stick. Every time he touched it, the energy in the arena shifted, the collective inhale of tens of thousands waiting to see what he’d do next. And he delivered.

The first goal came late in the first period—a clean snipe, Auston finding the top corner with the precision of a surgeon. You barely had time to process it before Maya and Jess were screaming, shaking your shoulders like crazed fans.

“That’s your man!” Jess shouted, pointing wildly as Auston was mobbed by his teammates in celebration.

“He really said, ‘let me impress my girl real quick,’” Maya added, grinning.

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. Fake. It’s fake. Remember that.

By the time the second period rolled around, the Leafs had extended their lead to 3-0. Nylander had netted a beauty off a no-look pass from Marner, and Matthews had assisted Tavares on a textbook power-play goal. The crowd was alive, the energy reaching a fever pitch as Toronto completely controlled the game.

You were caught up in it, swept along with the chants, the cheers, the pure adrenaline of it all. You felt like just another fan in the stands—no press, no scrutiny, just the joy of watching good hockey.

And then, in the dying minutes of the third period, Auston struck again.

The Bruins had pulled their goalie in a desperate bid to get on the board, but it left them vulnerable. And when Marner stripped a defender of the puck, he sent it ahead to Auston, who made no mistake, burying it into the empty net with a flick of his wrist.

The building erupted.

Maya grabbed your arm, shaking you as Jess screamed beside you. “FOUR TO ZERO!”

“He did it for you!” Jess insisted, laughing as she pointed at Auston, who was being swarmed by his teammates.

The final buzzer sounded moments later, confirming the Leafs’ 4-0 shutout victory. The arena vibrated with cheers, the players exchanging handshakes and stick taps before heading toward the bench. Auston, however, did something different.

Instead of skating off immediately, he turned—just slightly—and looked up into the stands.

Right at you.

Your stomach flipped.

It was quick, barely a second, but your body felt it. The connection. The way his eyes found yours in the sea of people, as if this moment wasn’t just about the game, but about something else.

Maya and Jess, of course, lost their minds.

“Are you seeing this?!” Maya gaped.

“Lucky charm, confirmed,” Jess smirked. “You better make sure he gets you season tickets, babe. Matthews just played one of his best games of the year with you watching.”

You tried to brush it off, but the giddy feeling in your chest wasn’t so easily ignored.

Because for all the pretending, for all the rehearsed public displays and strategic outings, that glance—that tiny, seemingly insignificant moment—felt real.

The atmosphere in the halls of Scotiabank Arena was still electric, the lingering pulse of victory echoing in every corridor. The hum of reporters, staff, and celebrating fans created a lively backdrop as you followed the familiar path to where Auston had asked you to meet him.

Jess and Maya were practically bouncing on their toes with excitement, their voices bubbling over with post-game adrenaline.

“I swear to God, if he doesn’t say something about you being his good luck charm, he’s a liar,” Jess announced, looping her arm through yours.

“Exactly,” Maya agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “He played out of his mind tonight. That wasn’t just skill. That was inspiration.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, both of you need to relax. He’s not going to—”

Before you could finish, the sound of approaching footsteps made your stomach twist.

Auston.

“Hey.”

Still fresh from the locker room, dressed in his usual post-game gear—a snug Leafs quarter-zip and grey sweatpants that sat low on his hips—he radiated confidence. His hair was damp, pushed back in a way that made him look effortlessly put together, and his grin was wide, still riding the high of the shutout win.

You barely had time to react before he was in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw with that frustrating, self-assured ease of his. His thumb grazed your cheek, a fleeting, intimate gesture, and then—he kissed you.

It was quick. Light. Barely more than a press of lips.

And yet, it sent a jolt straight through your body.

Your heart did an unnecessary, entirely inconvenient flip as he pulled back, his expression smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Damn him.

You willed yourself to stay composed, to ignore the way your stomach was now doing something deeply embarrassing, but then you heard Maya whisper-shouting, “OH. MY. GOD.”

Jess clutched her chest dramatically. “He greets you with kisses now? Okay, we get it. You’re main character energy.”

Auston let out a low chuckle, turning to your friends as he swept his hand to the small of your back with that effortlessly charming smirk of his. “Ah, so you’re the troublemakers she warned me about.”

Maya scoffed, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. “Troublemakers? That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Cocky McGoal-Scorer.”

Jess smirked, nodding along. “Yeah, we are the ones making sure she doesn’t get played by some hotshot hockey player.”

Auston, unfazed, just let his smirk widen. “That’s fair,” he admitted, his voice warm with amusement. “So, what’s the verdict? Do I pass, or am I getting benched?”

Jess eyed him critically, pretending to size him up like a scout at the draft. “Hmm. You do have decent stats…”

Maya pursed her lips, tapping her chin. “And you’ve got the whole smug, charming athlete thing going for you.”

Jess nodded sagely. “But let’s be real, Matthews, this isn’t about you. This is about her. You making sure our girl’s happy?”

At this, Auston’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, the warmth of his palm pressing into your lower back. His voice dropped just enough that you felt the answer as much as you heard it.

“I take good care of her,” he confirmed.

You felt heat creep up your neck. Maya and Jess, meanwhile, were eating this all up.

Jess let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, he’s good.”

Maya smirked, elbowing Jess. “Really good.”

You shot them a look. “Can you not?”

Auston chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. His thumb brushed lightly against your back, almost like a silent reminder that he wasn’t done toying with you yet.

Jess wasn’t done either. “Alright, one final test, Matthews. Important question.”

Auston raised a brow, playing along. “Hit me.”

Maya leaned in slightly, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “What’s her coffee order?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my God—”

But Auston didn’t hesitate. “Medium cappuccino, extra foam, no sugar, cinnamon sprinkled on top if the barista actually listens.”

Your stomach dropped. Because he was right.

Jess and Maya exchanged a look. Then, simultaneously:

“Ohhh, we like him.”

You groaned, covering your face as Auston laughed, his grip on you firm and steady. Jess patted his shoulder approvingly. “Congrats, Matthews. You have our blessing.”

Maya nodded, grinning. “Yeah, don’t screw it up, big guy.”

Auston smirked, squeezing your waist one last time before letting his hand fall. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Maya clutched her chest dramatically. “Ugh, he’s got the lines.”

Jess sighed. “We’ll leave you two alone before we start gagging.”

And with that, your traitorous best friends winked at you before disappearing down the hall, leaving you standing there with Auston, still very aware of the weight of his hand on your waist just moments ago.

You turned, glaring at him. “You love this, don’t you?”

Auston’s smirk was devastatingly smug. “A little bit, yeah.”

You huffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he drawled, taking a step closer, voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “you like it.”

Your breath hitched.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

“Come on. The team wants to say hi.”

The car ride home was quiet, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful. Not with the way Auston kept glancing over at you, the smirk never quite leaving his face. The air was thick with something unspoken, something that buzzed between you like a live wire, but he was content to let you squirm in it.

You turned toward him with narrowed eyes. “Okay. What?”

Auston barely suppressed a chuckle, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting lazily on his thigh. “What?” he echoed, feigning innocence.

You shot him a flat look. “You’re grinning like you just scored a game-winner in overtime. What’s got you so smug?”

He did let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head. “I mean… I did score two tonight,” he pointed out. “Shutout win. Big night.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mhm. Right. That’s why you’re grinning.”

Auston exhaled through his nose, the smirk deepening. “Fine,” he admitted, stealing another glance at you. “Maybe I am still thinking about your friends.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “Jess and Maya?”

“Yep.”

“…Why?”

Auston grinned. “Because they gave me their blessing.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Oh my God—”

“I mean, I can’t blame them,” he went on, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m charming. I’m good-looking. I buy their best friend cappuccinos.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “Your ego is unreal.”

“My ego is thriving,” he corrected, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Did you see Jess? She was ready to draft me into the friend group.”

You sighed. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugged, wholly unbothered. “And yet, here you are, still in my car.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to roll your eyes again, huff and say something witty. But the truth was, his confidence, his cockiness, was annoyingly attractive. It always had been. And then, as if on cue, Auston’s voice dipped into something lower, something more dangerous.

“Besides,” he murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve got better things to be smug about.”

Your breath hitched. Because you knew. You knew exactly what he was about to bring up. Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck before you could even pretend to play dumb. Still, you tried. “Oh?” you said, keeping your voice even. “Like what?”

Auston didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch just long enough for anticipation to curl in your stomach. Then—his voice dropped into something thick, something filthy. “Like last night,” he murmured.

Your cheeks burned. You swallowed, suddenly feeling way too warm in the enclosed space of the car. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Auston laughed, low and amused. “What? You don’t wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you said way too fast.

His smirk only widened. “That’s a shame,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “Because I really enjoyed myself.”

Your stomach flipped. His voice—that voice—was doing things to you, sending a pulse of heat straight to your core, and you hated it.

Okay. Hate was a strong word. You clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Am I?” he countered. “Because I remember you being very into it, boss.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Auston heard it. And he loved it.

“I can still hear you,” he continued, his voice turning into a lazy drawl, like he was savouring the memory. “Those little sounds you made when you got close.”

Your thighs clenched. His grip on the wheel tightened.

“And the way you came for me?” he exhaled, his voice a little rougher now. “Fuck. That was hot.”

You wanted to die. Because your body reacted to his words. Your pulse jumped. Your core throbbed. And he knew it. You could feel his smirk, could see the satisfaction in the way his fingers flexed slightly against the wheel.

You swallowed again, forcing yourself to sound unaffected. “You love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

Auston chuckled, but there was an edge to it, something darker. “I love hearing you.”

Fuck.

You felt weak. Mercifully, he pulled up to your building before you could completely combust. The car idled as you unbuckled your seatbelt, ready to make a hasty exit, but before you could reach for the door handle, Auston caught your wrist.

The touch was gentle, his fingers curling loosely around your hand before bringing it to his lips. The kiss was light, barely there, but God, it sent heat rushing through you. And then, he chuckled, dark and knowing.

“You have no idea how sexy you are.”

Your breath hitched.

His lips were still hovering over your knuckles, his grip still warm around your wrist, and your entire body tensed. Auston felt it. And he thrived on it. His gaze flicked up to yours, heavy-lidded and teasing. “You really don’t handle praise well, huh?”

You scowled, yanking your hand back. “Goodnight, Auston.”

But he wasn’t done. Not yet. Because just as you reached for the door handle again, his voice dropped into something gravelly, something that poured through you like molten heat. “I’d love to fuck you again soon.”

You froze. Your fingers stilled on the handle. “What… did you just say?”

Auston leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’d love to teach you more,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise. “You have no idea how many thoughts I’ve been having about you.”

Your body betrayed you, a small, sharp gasp escaping before you could stop it.

Auston smirked. Satisfied. You hated him. You hated how easy it was for him to ruin you. Your throat was dry. Your legs felt weak.

And worst of all? You wanted it. Again. And again.

You shoved open the door without another word, stepping out before you did something insanely stupid—like climb into his lap and beg him to show you exactly what he’d been thinking about. But even as you climbed the steps to your building, your body still hummed from his words, from his voice, from the idea of what could happen next time.

And when you curled into bed later that night, your hands found their way beneath the sheets.

Because fuck—Everything he said? Everything he promised? It only made you want him more.

“If you weren’t watching tonight’s game, you must have been living under a rock—or avoiding the inevitable spectacle that unfolded. Because, dear readers, it wasn’t just the Maple Leafs who showed up tonight. No, the Ice King had something—or someone—to play for.

Auston Matthews put on a royal performance—two goals, effortless control, and a presence so commanding it left even the Bruins scrambling. Was it the rivalry? The hunger to silence his critics?

Or was it something far more intriguing?

Our Queen made her grand debut in the stands—no private box, no whispers, just her in the heart of the crowd, watching. And if Matthews’ game was any indication, he was playing for an audience of one. Because when the final buzzer rang, his first instinct wasn’t celebration. It was to find her. A look. A moment. One that said more than any goal ever could. – The Benchwarmer”

Wednesday –

By now, it almost felt like you and Auston were actually… friends.

A strange thought, considering how this all started—an arrangement, a performance for the public eye, a mutually beneficial deception. But somewhere between the teasing banter, the stolen glances, and the way he softened when no one else was watching, something had shifted.

Whenever Auston had a good game, he became this impossibly cocky, insufferable, overly confident version of himself—smug, charming, and frustratingly attractive. He strutted around like he owned the world, and honestly? You kind of loved it. Mostly because, beneath all that bravado, you knew the truth.

Behind closed doors, away from the cameras, Auston was different. There was a quiet gentleness in him, a thoughtfulness he didn’t let many people see. He was softer with you, almost instinctively so. It was both exhilarating and exhausting—watching him constantly mask himself, always playing the role of the untouchable superstar. And yet, it made you feel special, knowing he let his guard down with you.

It was thrilling. Daunting. Dangerous.

Because this wasn’t supposed to feel real.

Still, as well as things were going with Auston, work was an entirely different nightmare.

The office was in chaos, papers flying, emails flooding in, and your phone buzzing with what felt like a never-ending crisis. It wasn’t your fault, but as always, you were the one left to clean it up. Mr. Manion expected nothing less. You were the problem solver, the fixer, the one who made sure everything didn’t fall apart at the seams.

And just when you thought the day couldn’t get any worse—he showed up. Chase.

Golden boy. Mr. Perfect-on-paper. The kind of guy who had a talent for swooping in at the last second, taking credit for solving problems he hadn’t lifted a single damn finger to fix.

His presence was the last thing you needed, but there he was, standing by your desk with that infuriatingly easy smile, like he wasn’t about to make your day even worse.

“Tough day?” he mused, stepping a little closer like he owned the place.

You didn’t even look up from your computer. “No, actually, I’m having a fantastic time.”

Chase chuckled, unbothered. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just here to help.”

You scoffed. “Oh, really? Are you here to actually help, or just to show up after the mess is handled and make sure everyone knows you were around when it got fixed?”

His smirk faltered for a second, but he recovered quickly. “Now, that’s unfair,” he said, hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit. “I just wanted to check in on you. Especially since you’ve been so… distracted lately.”

Your fingers stilled over your keyboard. You knew exactly what he was getting at.

The Benchwarmer had been relentless with their latest coverage of you and Auston. The whole city was obsessed with your relationship—or what they thought was your relationship. Every gossip blog, every sports podcast, every social media thread dissecting your every move. Toronto’s Mystery Queen.

For a while, you had managed to keep your identity secure, just enough to maintain the intrigue. A part of you even enjoyed the secrecy, the way people speculated, the way your presence was becoming almost as talked about as Auston’s.

But Chase wasn’t stupid. And he had a habit of knowing just the right buttons to push.

“Quite the love story you’re in,” he said casually, picking up a random document from your desk and flipping through it like he had any right to. “I mean, I never knew you had a thing for hockey players, and Matthews? Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming.”

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t take the bait. You wouldn’t.

“I don’t have time for this, Chase.”

He grinned. “No? Too busy making sure Matthews stays out of trouble?”

Your patience snapped. “What do you want?”

He set the document down, tilting his head slightly. “Just wanted to see how long you were planning on keeping up the act.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression blank.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said coolly.

Chase let out a low chuckle, like he found your defiance amusing. “Sure you don’t.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “But here’s the thing—you’ve managed to keep your little mystery going for a while now. People love the guessing game. But secrets?” He smirked. “Secrets don’t stay hidden forever.”

You stared at him, your pulse thrumming.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Chase took a step back, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Anyway,” he said, all casual ease once more. “I’m sure you’ve got things under control. Wouldn’t want all that hard work to go to waste, would you?”

Work had been crazy, and the clock told 6.37 pm. You stared at your phone, your frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. The headlines were everywhere—your name plastered across every gossip blog, your once-protected identity finally out in the open. A part of you had always known this day would come, but you had hoped it would’ve been later. Much later.

You weren’t naive. You understood the game, the way the media worked, the way curiosity fed speculation. You had managed to keep your anonymity intact for so long, playing the part of Toronto’s elusive mystery girl, the Queen in the shadows. But now? Now the entire city knew your name.

And Chase—of course, it had to be Chase. You couldn’t prove it, not definitively, but you knew him. Knew how he operated, how he always found a way to weasel himself into the narrative. You could practically hear the smugness in his voice, the satisfaction in his knowing glances, as if exposing you had been nothing more than an amusing little game to him.

Your fingers tightened around your phone, scrolling through the endless stream of articles, tweets, and comments dissecting your relationship with Auston. Some praised you. Some envied you. Some tore you apart.

And just when the weight of it all began to settle heavily on your chest, your phone vibrated again.

Auston: Come over tonight? Just had dinner. Could use some dessert.

You exhaled sharply, the text pulling you out of your spiralling thoughts.

God, he was so predictable.

And yet… Your first instinct was to roll your eyes. Of course, he’d send something like that. No mention of the media storm. No checking in to see if you were okay. Just straight to the point—sex. It was almost laughable.

Almost.

Because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure what you wanted more—to be alone with your thoughts, drowning in frustration and unanswered questions, or to let Auston take control, pull you into something far more physical, something that would make you forget everything for a while.

You bit your lip, staring at the message.

You knew what this was. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t some grand love story. It was an arrangement, a mutually beneficial trade-off. You got experience. He got exclusivity.

You were nothing more than a convenient option for him right now—someone he could touch, tease, claim without any of the messy complications of feelings. And yet, even knowing that, even with the reality of it glaring you in the face, you couldn’t deny the truth creeping beneath your skin.

You wanted him.

You wanted the arrogance, the cockiness, the insufferable confidence. You wanted the way he pushed your buttons, the way he tested your limits, the way he made your body sing with just a look, just a touch.

You wanted the way he made you feel—desirable. Powerful. Like you weren’t just her, the girl behind the headlines, but someone Auston Matthews wanted. And after the absolute disaster of a day you’d had, maybe you needed that. Maybe you needed him.

You sighed, fingers hovering over your phone.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you typed out a response.

You: Be there soon

And just like that, you knew—you were already in too deep.

When Auston had mentioned dessert, you hadn’t given it much thought—but he clearly had.

As soon as you stepped into his place, the atmosphere was charged, electric, thrumming with unspoken tension. Auston leaned against the counter, arms crossed, that knowing smirk tugging at his lips. The kind that said he already had a plan.

“Rough day?” His voice was low, teasing, effortlessly smooth.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Something like that.”

He pushed off the counter in one fluid motion, closing the space between you with ease. His fingers skimmed over your hip, the touch featherlight, teasing, sending a ripple of anticipation down your spine. He dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his breath warm as he murmured, “Good thing I’m an excellent distraction, then.”

Your stomach fluttered.

The promise in his voice was undeniable, and just like that, you let him take the lead to the bedroom.

Auston always exuded confidence, but tonight, just like last time, something about the way he touched you felt more gentle, more intentional, like he was savouring every second. His hands moved with aching slowness as he undressed you, fingertips mapping your skin. His gaze was locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, pulling you deeper into whatever this was between you.

“Lie down,” he murmured, his voice gentle but firm.

You obeyed, settling against the mattress as his eyes roamed your body, studying, appreciating, taking his time before he moved. And then, with that signature smirk, he leaned in, and everything else faded away.

He hovered over you, eyes flickering with something unreadable—something deeper than just desire. His fingertips traced idle patterns along your bare skin, skimming over your collarbone, your peaky nipples, down the curve of your waist. Slow. Thoughtful. As if he had all the time in the world.

“Relax,” Auston murmured, voice like honey, thick and sweet. His hand splayed against your hip, grounding you. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath hitched as his lips followed the path of his fingers, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, trailing lower, lower still. Every inch of his touch sent heat rolling through you, pooling low in your stomach. His movements were calculated, unhurried, savouring your reactions as if he was learning your body, memorising what made you shiver.

He kissed along the curve of your stomach, his scruff leaving a faint, delicious burn against your skin. His hands, warm and steady, slid down your thighs, coaxing them apart with an ease that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rippling through you.

“Auston…” Your voice was barely a whisper. “I—I’ve never… I mean, no one’s ever really…”

His brow lifted slightly, but his smirk remained, teasing and utterly self-assured.

“No one’s ever kissed you… down here?” His voice was husky, the heat in his words sending a ripple through you.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head.

Auston’s expression shifted—something dark and intrigued flashing behind his eyes. But that teasing smirk? It didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened, slow and knowing, like he had just been handed a challenge he was more than ready to take on.

“Oh, boss.” His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his breath warm, teasing, sending a shiver straight through you. “You have no idea what you’ve been missing.”

You barely had time to process his words before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just above your core. It was wet—so wet—and the promise behind it sent heat surging through you. His hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

Then, his mouth finally met you.

The first touch of his tongue sent a sharp gasp from your lips, your body tensing, arching slightly off the mattress. Auston groaned, low and approving, before flattening his tongue and dragging it through your folds, slow and meticulous.

“Oh—” Your fingers fisted in the sheets, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of sensation. You closed your eyes, your head falling back into the pillow.

Auston chuckled against you, the vibration making your stomach flip. “Relax,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your clit before flicking his tongue against it, drawing another sharp inhale from you. “Just feel.”

And that was all you could do.

He worked you open with a patience that bordered on torturous, dragging pleasure from you in slow, calculated waves. His tongue alternated between soft, languid strokes and teasing flicks, exploring, savouring, testing what made you shudder. Occasionally, he’d switch to gentle sucking, lips sealing around your most sensitive spot and pulling a desperate moan from you.

Your legs tried to close instinctively, the pleasure too much, too intense, but his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open, keeping you vulnerable to him.

“You’re so sensitive,” he mused, his voice rough with desire. His fingers dug into your hips as he kissed the inside of your thigh, his lips wet and glistening from your juices. “So fucking responsive. I could do this all night.”

Your breath hitched as he went back in, his tongue swirling, flicking, sucking in a way that had you trembling beneath him. Your hand found his hair, tugging slightly, and Auston groaned, his grip tightening as he pushed deeper, his pace quickening just enough to send sparks racing through your veins.

He was enjoying this—more than he should have. The way he devoured you, the way he savoured every reaction, the way his own body was tense with restraint, his cock pressing hard against the mattress—he was completely in his element.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, your body tightening as he moved slowly, teasing, curling it just right. “A-Auston—oh my God—”

“Mmm yes,” he murmured, his breath hot against you. “Come for me.”

His tongue, his thick finger, the way he held you—it was all too much, and yet not enough. The tension coiled tight in your stomach; your body desperate for release. His pace quickened, his mouth relentless, finger stroking exactly where you needed them.

Your thighs trembled, your breath hitched, and then—you shattered.

Auston didn’t stop. He worked you through it, drawing out every last tremor, every last breathless moan, until you were left gasping, weak and pliant beneath him.

Only then did he pull back, causing you to flutter your eyes open. And when you dared to look at him, his lips were slick, his beard damp, his eyes dark and unreadable. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before smirking, looking devastatingly proud of himself.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Told you you’ve been missing out.”

You could only manage to offer a very satisfied smile.

Though, after the way he had completely unravelled you, left you breathless and boneless against the sheets, Auston was far from finished. Tonight’s lesson wasn’t just about taking—tonight, it was also about giving.

Auston remained slow and deliberate in the way he moved, his presence commanding yet patient as he shifted on the bed, resting on his back. He exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, though you could tell by the way his fingers twitched against your skin that his composure was hanging by a thread.

Still, he didn’t rush you.

Instead, he simply took your hand and guided you between his legs, his touch warm, grounding. His thighs were firm beneath your palms, his body radiating heat, and when you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you—dark, heavy-lidded, brimming with raw need.

“I want to know what those sweet lips can do,” he murmured, voice rough, edged with hunger.

Your breath hitched, your eyes blinking a few times. His cock was thick, hard, stiff against his lower stomach, the tip flushed, desperate for relief. Your fingers hovered just above him, unsure, but Auston’s hand remained steady over yours, not pushing, just waiting.

You had tried this before. Once, maybe twice. But it had never felt like this.

Your ex had been impatient, careless, never making you feel like it was something you could enjoy. Like it was something that could feel good for you, too. You’d always hesitated, second-guessed yourself, worried you weren’t doing it right.

But with Auston, it was different.

He wanted you to take your time. To learn. To enjoy it.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a silent encouragement. “Start slow,” he murmured. “And remember to breathe.”

You swallowed, nodding slightly before wrapping your fingers around his shaft, feeling the sheer weight of him in your hand. He was hot beneath your touch, pulsing with every small shift of your fingers. And when you gave the first slow stroke, Auston groaned low in his throat, his head tipping back against the pillows.

That sound alone sent a thrill straight through you.

Emboldened, you leaned in, pressing an experimental kiss to the tip before parting your lips, slowly taking him in inch by inch. You felt the stretch, the unfamiliarity of it, the sense of him in your mouth and throat. You gagged slightly, but then Auston’s fingers tangled in your hair, his grip gentle, grounding, as he steadied you.

“Fuck—yeah, just like that,” he rasped, his voice thick with restraint. “Use your spit. And hand.”

You inhaled through your nose, then allowed a bit of spit to fall from your lips, as instructed, before you moved lower, adjusting to the sensation, letting yourself settle into a rhythm. Auston’s hips shifted slightly, his breath unsteady as your tongue traced along the underside of his cock, your hand working in sync with your mouth.

You tasted his pre-cum, a surprisingly sweet and salty taste as he became completely at your mercy. And that gave you an entirely new sense of confidence.

With every motion you moved your mouth up and down his shaft, his restraint was slipping, his thighs tensing beneath you, muscles coiling as if he was fighting every instinct to thrust deeper. You could feel the way his fingers clenched, his breath hitching every time you sucked a little harder, took him a little deeper.

You flicked your gaze up, meeting his eyes—and God, the way he was looking at you.

Like he wanted to devour you.

“Mmm shit,” he exhaled, his voice nothing more than a breathy groan. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

Your lips curled around him, and you hummed in response, letting the vibrations ripple through him. Auston let out a ragged curse, his control unravelling fast.

And you didn’t stop.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper as you allowed your saliva to coat his shaft. You listened to every sound he made, every shift of his body, adjusting your pace until he was cursing, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” His voice was breaking now, strained, his body trembling beneath your touch.

You could feel it coming, the way his stomach tensed, his breathing turning uneven. And then, with a deep, wrecked groan, he came.

His release hit your tongue, warm and unexpected, but you didn’t pull away. You took it, let it settle on your tongue, tasting the salty liquid, before swallowing, surprising even yourself.

Auston’s entire body tensed—then melted.

His grip loosened, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants as he stared down at you, completely wrecked. His lips were parted, his pupils blown, and then, slowly, his expression shifted into something almost incredulous.

He let out a rough chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Fuck. I was not expecting that.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth with a finger, looking up at him with a slow, satisfied smile. “Me neither. I… I kinda really liked that…” you admitted with a light blush.

Auston blinked, then grinned—wide, lazy, completely enamoured. “Well fuck me,” he muttered, pulling you up, his arms wrapping around you. “I think I just created a monster.”

You only smirked, curling against him as he let out another deep, exhausted breath.

And you?

You felt powerful. Unstoppable. Confident in a way you never had before.

You had made Auston – the Auston Matthew come undone.

And you had a feeling Auston was more than happy to help you learn even more.

That night, you left Auston’s place with a satisfied ache in your limbs and a smug smile tugging at your lips. The city air was crisp against your heated skin, but nothing could cool the warmth still pulsing through you.

You felt different—lighter, freer.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t overthinking. You weren’t second-guessing yourself or analysing every moment. You were just… enjoying it.

And Auston? He was loving every second of it.

When he finally collapsed onto his bed, his body still humming from the night’s events, he exhaled deeply, stretching out against the sheets with a self-satisfied smirk. His head was filled with you—your sounds, your touch, the way you had looked at him with that newfound confidence.

It was going so well.

Better than he ever could’ve imagined.

“Dearest Toronto readers,

It would appear the Queen has officially stepped out of the shadows.

For months, we speculated. We pieced together whispers, glimpses, and stolen moments, weaving them into a story that had yet to be fully told. But now? There is no more mystery. No more guessing. The woman who has held the attention of the Ice King—who has captivated this city just as much as the man himself—has been unmasked.

And yet, the revelation has only ignited more intrigue.

Because, dear readers, while the name is now known, the story remains unfinished. The question lingers—was this all part of the grand game? A carefully curated move in the playbook of deception? Or is there something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface?

One thing is certain: Auston Matthews has never played better, never looked more untouchable, more in control. But if we’ve learned anything from history, it’s that even the greatest Kings fall when their Queens become too powerful.

Stay close, Toronto. The game is only getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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misshoneyimhome · 1 month ago

Text

What's up buttercups! 💕

Chapter three is here, and things are starting to take shape! I know, we’re still keeping a steady pace, but trust me—good things take time (at least that’s what I keep telling myself while writing this f-ing slow burn…🙈).

As always, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading, darlings! 😊✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, smut 18+, Auston x unknown female character, protected vaginal penetration

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Three: Pucks, Plans, and Pretences*

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems our Ice King has traded his signature cool for something decidedly warmer. A newly surfaced photo from the depths of the Scotiabank Arena has set the internet alight, capturing Auston Matthews and his now-infamous Mystery Queen in a moment that could rival any story.

The city can’t stop talking.

But what’s the real story? Is this the beginning of something genuine or a strategic distraction for Toronto’s captain? Matthews, ever the enigma, isn’t saying much—but that smirk of his has done little to quell the rumours.

As for his Mystery Queen, she’s still just that—a mystery. Ambitious, poised, and undeniably captivating, she’s become the city’s obsession overnight.

Whether this is love, strategy, or something in between, Toronto is hooked. And with Matthews at the helm of this unfolding drama, one thing is certain: it’s going to be a season to remember.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Tuesday –

Sitting by the high table in the compact kitchen of your small studio flat, you traced the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly. The faint hum of the city outside was a comforting white noise, a familiar backdrop to your mornings. But the fragile peace didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment. You groaned, setting down your mug to glance at the screen. Of course, it was Jess and Maya. The two of them had wasted no time diving into what was clearly the hot topic of the day.

Jess (7:13 AM): “Spotted: You and Auston. AGAIN. Girl, explain.”

Maya (7:15 AM): “We need a FULL breakdown. Coffee tonight. No excuses!”

You sighed, gripping the warm mug a little tighter as you composed a response. Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

You (7:18 AM): “There’s really nothing to explain.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Maya (7:19 AM): “Oh, please. You’re trending AGAIN. #MysteryQueen is still going strong. Spill.”

Jess (7:20 AM): “You can’t brush this off. Coffee tonight after work, our usual spot. Don’t make me come to your place.”

You let out a soft laugh despite the tension knotting in your chest. Jess and Maya were relentless, but their concern came from a good place. They were your best friends—your constants in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

Still, the guilt nagged at you. They were cheering for you, defending you, believing you were swept up in some whirlwind romance. And here you were, dodging their excitement with half-truths and carefully constructed vagueness.

You (7:22 AM): “Fine. Coffee tonight. But it’s really not as exciting as you think, ladies.”

Jess (7:23 AM): “We’ll be the judges of that.”

Maya (7:24 AM): “Don’t forget the juicy details. We need to know EVERYTHING.”

You set your phone down with a heavy sigh, your appetite fading as stress settled over you like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn’t just the messages. It was the weight of everything that had piled up over the past few days.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, watching the liquid swirl. The events of the gala played on a loop in your mind, every moment amplified now that the media had latched onto you. And then there was Auston.

Had you really agreed to fake-date Auston Matthews, the Ice King himself? The words “Let’s do it” echoed in your mind, making you wince. What had possessed you?

You knew the answer: desperation.

Auston’s reasons were crystal clear. He wanted control over the narrative. He needed a way to silence the incessant speculation about his personal life. His pitch had been logical, almost clinical. And you, standing at the crossroads of your career, had agreed.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. If his biggest problem is dodging rumours about his love life, he’s got it easy.

Your problems felt heavier. Tangible. Your boss’s voice rang in your ears, his warnings cutting through your thoughts: “No distractions. No drama. No more headlines.” The gala had already pushed you to the edge of his patience. And now? Now you were willingly diving into a situation that could unravel everything you’d worked for.

But wasn’t this what you wanted? A chance to make your mark, to prove you weren’t just another cog in the machine? Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing you a lifeline—wrapped in chaos, sure, but a lifeline, nonetheless.

Or maybe you were just grasping at straws.

You sighed, pushing your barely touched breakfast aside. The decision had been made. There was no turning back now. Auston had given you an option, and you’d taken it.

Your to-do list for the day felt overwhelming. Face your boss. Navigate the fallout. And later, coffee with Jess and Maya. They’d want answers—real ones, not the half-hearted deflections you’d been giving them.

You weren’t sure how much you could—or should—tell them. But one thing was certain: you needed to pull yourself together. Time was ticking, and the last thing you could afford was to let it all spiral out of control.

Auston Matthews awoke with nothing but a grin on his face. The kind of grin that wasn’t about a win or a goal, but about the sheer satisfaction of knowing he’d set the board perfectly for the game ahead. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. Felix, his Australien Bernedoodle, was already wagging his tail eagerly, sensing that his human was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright, Snuff” Auston muttered, stretching as he reached for the dog’s leash. “Let’s go.”

The grin stayed fixed on his face as he walked Felix through the quiet morning streets of Toronto, hidden just slightly under the brim of his cap. The rhythm of his steps matched the upbeat hum in his chest. Felix trotted ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant. Auston’s thoughts, however, were far from their usual pre-game routine.

You’d said yes. The moment replayed in his mind, not because he doubted it had happened, but because of the satisfying sense of control it gave him. You had agreed to his plan. Fake dating. It was genius, really. It ticked every box: no questions about his personal life, no endless media speculation about who he was seeing, and the cherry on top—it made him unavailable. Off the market. And if anything, it made him even more unattainable.

Felix barked once, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” Auston chuckled, tugging the leash gently to keep his dog moving. “Don’t get too excited.”

Back at home, Felix flopped onto his dog bed with a satisfied huff while Auston grabbed his duffel bag and packed for the day. The grin still hadn’t faded. Tonight was a game night, and he had an away trip to Columbus. Normally, his thoughts would already be on the ice, visualising plays, but today his mind kept drifting back to you and the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

Auston wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the media worked. They’d dissect every glance, every move, every word exchanged between the two of you. That was the world he lived in—a world of scrutiny, where even his most mundane actions were twisted into headlines. And yet, for once, he didn’t mind. You weren’t like the others who had flitted through his orbit.

Most women in this position would’ve jumped at the chance to bask in the glow of his fame. But you? You seemed determined to avoid it entirely, almost as if the spotlight burned too bright for your liking. That was refreshing. It intrigued him. And maybe—just maybe—it was part of why this plan felt so right.

He paused mid-pack, considering for a moment if he should bring his PR manager into the loop. Ultimately, he decided against it. The man hadn’t even batted an eye at the first photo. For someone like Auston, these kinds of headlines were par for the course. A fake relationship wouldn’t even register as a blip on his radar. And besides, Auston didn’t want anyone meddling. This was his game, and he intended to play it his way.

His teammates? They didn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. They’d complicate things with relentless teasing, and Auston wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mitch Marner’s inevitable barrage of questions. And his family? Absolutely not. All they needed to know was that he wasn’t available. End of story.

The airport was bustling with the usual pre-travel chaos. Players joked and jostled each other, tossing bags into overhead bins and making playful bets about who would score the first goal of the night. Auston moved through the commotion with his usual calm, but the grin remained—a subtle, smug reminder to himself that he had everything under control.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice rang out as he flopped into the seat beside Auston. “What’s with the face? You win the lottery or something?”

Auston smirked, adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. “Something like that.”

Mitch squinted at him suspiciously. “This have anything to do with the latest post? You know, the one that’s got X losing its mind?”

“Don’t start, Marner,” Auston replied, his voice even but amused.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Mitch said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, man. Spill. Who is she? I mean we know what she works with, but… She’s not another one of those random girls you keep fucking, is she?”

Auston sighed, pulling one side of his headphones down. “She’s just someone I’m getting to know. Relax.”

“Someone you’re getting to know?” Mitch echoed, his grin widening. “That’s all we get? Not even a compliment about her ass?”

“Drop it,” Auston said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Across the aisle, William piped up. “If she’s just someone you’re getting to know, why’s she all over your social media? You’re usually better at keeping things under wraps.”

Auston shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s not all over my social media. That’s the media doing what they do.”

But Mitch wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t talk about the other girls, but you’re dodging questions about her? That’s new.”

Auston shot him a look. “Maybe because it’s none of your business, Mitchy.”

The banter continued as the plane took off, Mitch throwing playful jabs from across the aisle and William chiming in with his usual teasing smirk. Auston brushed it off with ease, keeping his replies curt and nonchalant. But their questions lingered in his mind, nagging at the edges of his thoughts like a loose thread.

If his teammates were already this curious, what would happen when the media started digging deeper? And they would dig deeper. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. They’d dissect every detail, every inconsistency, every crack in the story. That’s when it hit him—he didn’t know enough about you. Not the kind of things that would make a fabricated relationship believable, at least.

Your favourite coffee order. Your go-to excuse for leaving a party early. The kind of music you liked to blast when no one else was around.

He needed to know something—anything—that could make this story feel authentic. His teammates might have been satisfied with the vague details he’d given them for now, but they nor the media wouldn’t let it slide. This had to look real. And for it to look real, he had to be able to talk about you like he’d known you for longer than a fleeting gala moment.

Auston leaned back in his seat, letting out a small breath. The team’s chatter faded into the background as he turned his focus inward. He’d have to talk to you, but it couldn’t feel forced. It had to be casual, natural. Just enough to set things straight and make sure the narrative stayed intact.

Satisfied with the plan forming in his mind, Auston allowed himself to relax, the familiar hum of the plane’s engines lulling him into a moment of calm. He adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones and gazed out the window as the city faded into the distance. The grin he’d worn all morning crept back onto his face, a mixture of confidence and anticipation.

This was going to work. It had to.

You might not realise it yet, but Auston Matthews had chosen you for a reason. You weren’t just a pawn in his game. You were the perfect partner in crime for the plan he was about to execute.

As you walked into the office, you held your chin high, shoulders back, just like Jess always encouraged during your frantic late-night phone calls. Her voice still echoed in your head: “Own it. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat.” Easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor with a rhythm that you hoped exuded confidence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the charade pressing against your chest. The office buzzed with its usual energy—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, snippets of conversations floating through the air. But today, the atmosphere seemed to hum with something sharper, something just shy of gossip. Again, you didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were about you.

You felt their eyes on you as you passed, a few heads turning slightly as you walked by. It was subtle—an extra glance, a barely concealed smirk, a phone quickly tucked away as if you’d interrupted someone mid-scroll through the latest viral photos. You’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, but you ignored it. No doubt Jess or Maya was checking in to remind you of your coffee date later. Or worse, your boss with a sharp-edged “we need to talk.” Neither option felt appealing.

By the time you reached your desk, the tension in your chest had settled into a dull ache. You sat down, carefully placing your bag at your feet, and took a steadying breath. The screen of your laptop glowed to life as you opened it, the familiar sight of your inbox providing a small sense of normalcy.

But even as you sifted through emails, your thoughts kept circling back to the lie you were living. You felt bad for keeping Jess and Maya in the dark. They were your best friends, your ride-or-die crew, the people who’d been there for you through every triumph and heartbreak. But you couldn’t risk telling them the truth.

What would happen if anyone found out? The question lingered in your mind like a persistent shadow. Even the smallest crack in the story you and Auston would be concocting could lead to an avalanche. If word got back to your boss that this wasn’t just an accidental photo op but a deliberate ruse? You didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

So, you kept your cards close to your chest, smiling politely when a co-worker passed by, nodding along to the faint hum of office chatter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jess and Maya—it was that you didn't want to burden them with this. The stakes were too high. Or maybe, just maybe, you felt a bit embarrassed about having agreed to it?

For now, your best move was to stick to the plan: keep your head down, stay professional, and pray the whirlwind around you would eventually settle.

But as the day stretched on and the whispers persisted, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope with no safety net.

During the workday, you did your best to stay under the radar, skirting through the office with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your strategy was simple: avoid your boss at all costs. Fortunately, his schedule was jam-packed with back-to-back meetings, giving you a much-needed buffer.

Still, you weren’t entirely off the hook. You’d barely rounded the corner when he appeared, laptop in hand, his expression sharp and unreadable.

“Y/N,” he called out, his tone clipped.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral. “Good day, Mr. Manion.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yes, well. Care to explain why half the office is suddenly fixated on some hockey romance conspiracy theories? Or why your face seems to be at the centre of it, again?”

You swallowed hard, scrambling for a response that sounded calm and collected. “Just media being media,” you said lightly, forcing a small shrug. “They’re spinning something out of nothing. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Manion stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to dissect the truth. “It better. We’ll discuss this later. My office, tomorrow morning. Or… when I have time for this mess.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’d just delayed the inevitable.

The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. No matter how much you tried to focus, the looming conversation with your boss weighed heavily on your mind.

By the time the clock struck five, you were almost relieved to escape the office and head to the coffee shop where Jess and Maya were waiting.

The café was warm and bustling, the scent of freshly brewed espresso mingling with the faint sweetness of baked goods. Jess and Maya were already seated in the corner, their expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience as they spotted you walking in.

“Well, well,” Maya teased, her grin widening as you slid into the chair opposite her. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jess smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Y/N. Spill. Now.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the mug the barista had just placed in front of you. “Please, calm down. It’s not as exciting as you think. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Jess said bluntly. “You’re trending. You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Maya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on. We’re your best friends. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?”

There it was—the guilt. It crept into your chest like a cold weight, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to stick to the story.

“We met at the gala,” you began, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “He was… well, exactly how you’d expect. Arrogant, cocky, a total smartass.”

Jess arched a brow. “So, what? He just walked up to you and swept you off your feet?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Not exactly. I sort of… tripped, and he caught me. It was all very cliché.”

Maya gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Like something out of a movie! I knew it!”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “He was just being polite. Honestly, I thought he’d forget about me the second I walked away.”

Jess tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “But he didn’t.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment. “No, he didn’t. He’s been… persistent. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s not really my type.”

Maya’s jaw dropped. “Not your type? Are you serious? He’s Auston Matthews. Literal perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t exactly charming when it comes with an ego the size of the CN Tower,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Jess.

“Fair,” she said, smirking. “But don’t pretend you’re immune. Something about him must’ve worked if he’s got you responding.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the media doing what it does best—blowing things out of proportion.”

Maya studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Jess leaned forward, her grin devilish. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

The conversation continued, a whirlwind of teasing and speculation, but you managed to hold your ground, weaving just enough truth into your story to keep them from digging deeper. By the time you left the café, your nerves were frayed, but at least you’d survived the first round of questions.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.

The training rink in Columbus carried the usual buzz of pre-game preparation: the slap of pucks against the boards, the hum of skates carving into the ice, and the low murmur of coaches directing drills. But something about the energy felt off. Auston could sense it in the way passes missed by inches and shots rang off the crossbar instead of finding the back of the net.

The Leafs were coming off a high, but the weight of expectations clung to the team like an anchor. By the time practice wrapped up, the locker room was filled with subdued chatter, players trying to shake off the tension as they prepared for the night’s game.

Auston, ever the focal point, felt the weight more than most. Captaincy wasn’t just about leading on the ice—it was about carrying the team’s hopes and shielding them from criticism when things went sideways. And tonight, things went very sideways.

The game was a mess from start to finish. Columbus exploited every crack in the Leafs’ defence, while Toronto’s offense sputtered, unable to capitalise on power plays or momentum. Auston had his moments—a slick assist here, a near-miss there—but it wasn’t enough. By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a 4-1 loss.

Auston’s jaw tightened as he skated off the ice, his grip on his stick like a vice. The locker room was eerily quiet post-game, the usual camaraderie replaced with a heavy silence. Players peeled off their gear in near silence, a few murmuring frustrations under their breath. Auston exchanged a few words with the coaches, but the sting of defeat lingered long after he left the rink.

Back at the hotel, the air in Auston’s room felt heavy—thick with the weight of the night’s loss and the expectations that always seemed to grow louder in defeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his duffel bag still untouched by the door, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

Down the hall, his teammates were decompressing in their own ways—some glued to their gaming consoles, others nursing quiet drinks in the lounge—but none of those options appealed to him. Auston’s frustration needed a different outlet.

Without much thought, he opened his DMs, the endless flood of messages a familiar distraction. His name was a magnet, his inbox teeming with invitations, compliments, and the occasional overly bold proposition. One message caught his eye—a familiar face from Columbus. They’d met on a previous trip, a fleeting encounter that left no lasting impression, which was exactly what he needed now.

Auston: “In town for the night. What’s up?”

Her: “Still waiting for you to call. Thought you forgot about me ;)”

Auston: “Never.”

The exchange was simple, transactional, and within the hour, she was knocking on his door.

Auston opened it, leaning casually against the frame. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. She smiled up at him, dressed to impress—or undress. As always, no pleasantries were exchanged; none were necessary. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the outside world.

It was exactly what Auston needed—a reprieve from the relentless noise in his head. She was eager, uncomplicated, and predictable, offering a distraction that required nothing from him emotionally. He let himself sink into the physicality of it, her hands trailing across his chest as she whispered something flirtatious. But her words barely registered. His thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on the ice, replaying the game in relentless detail: the missed chances, the failed plays, the sting of another loss. They drifted to the media frenzy surrounding his so-called “Mystery Queen” and the elaborate charade he was now orchestrating with you. No matter how much he tried to focus on the present, the weight of everything he was juggling refused to let go.

Still, he allowed her to take the lead, lying back as she straddled him with practiced confidence. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it was enough to stoke his hardening member. She felt good, but it was a fleeting, surface-level pleasure. The connection was purely physical, and Auston was fine with that.

Her fingers dug into his chest, as she rode him expertly. Auston felt his climax slowly building, her tight cunt wrapped so neatly around his throbbing cock. He didn’t need more than this. Shutting his eyes he could imagine her to be anyone he’d like. His mind wandered as he heard himself let out a moan. She was good to him, picking up her pace as she too chased her own high.

Her moans filled the room, crescendoing as she announced her climax with exaggerated fervour. Auston stayed silent, his body tense beneath her, waiting for the moment to pass. And when she slumped forward, her chest rising and falling against his, he decided to take control in order to reach the rush.

Flipping her onto her back, he moved with renewed intensity, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. His fingers clenched the sheets as he gave up holding back. He was merciless. Ruthless. Her cries of his name echoed in his ears, a mantra that boosted his ego but did little to penetrate the hollow space inside him.

And when his climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His low, guttural grunt filled the air as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they finally stopped.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering as though she hoped it might spark something deeper. But Auston rolled away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The message was clear, though unspoken.

So, within minutes, she was dressed, smoothing her hair and offering a coy smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she said lightly, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston replied, his tone indifferent as he closed the door behind her. The lock clicked, and just like that, she was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hollow feeling settled in—a familiar, unwelcome companion. The release had been satisfying enough, but it hadn’t erased the gnawing frustration or the pressure weighing on his shoulders. It never did.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. Notifications flooded in: highlights from the game, speculative articles dissecting the team’s loss, and the ever-present hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

A small, wry smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. The plan was working, and that was something. For all the chaos, for all the noise, the narrative was moving exactly as he’d intended. Now all he had to do was keep it that way.

He set his phone back on the nightstand and let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow, he’d regroup. Tomorrow, he’d strategise with you, fine-tune the story you were selling. For tonight, survival was enough.

As exhaustion finally crept in, Auston closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to you once more. You weren’t like the others—too smart, too grounded to fall for someone like him. That was part of the appeal, he realised. You weren’t here for him, not really. And maybe that made you the most intriguing person he’d met in a long time.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, all that mattered was that the noise had faded, if only for a moment.

“Oh, Toronto, isn’t it fascinating how our beloved Ice King chooses to thaw? While the Leafs are licking their wounds after a tough night in Columbus, it seems Auston Matthews is sticking to his tried-and-true method of post-game ‘recovery.’ Word on the street—or rather, whispers through the grapevine—suggests that our captain might not be as unavailable as the Mystery Queen narrative wants us to believe. Curious, isn’t it?

But here’s the thing, dear readers—there’s always more beneath the surface. Matthews might play the media like a maestro, but even the best orchestrations can hit a sour note. Will the cracks start to show? Or will our Ice King’s dual life—both on and off the rink—continue to skate by unscathed?

As for his Mystery Queen? One has to wonder how she fits into this symphony of appearances. Is she just another carefully placed pawn in Auston’s game, or is there something more stirring beneath the headlines?

For now, Toronto, we’re left with a tantalising mix of speculation and intrigue. The season is still young, and the drama is only just beginning. - The Benchwarmer”

Wednesday -

Auston tried to enjoy the breakfast with his teammates. A hotel was a part of their routines, yet it never truly felt like home. His phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications, but one headline in particular caught his eye: “The Ice King’s Double Life? Drama Heats Up Around Toronto’s Star Captain and His #MysteryQueen.”

Auston clicked the link and was greeted by The Benchwarmer’s latest post. The commentary was sharp, hinting at cracks in his narrative and questioning whether the supposed romance with you was genuine—or just another fleeting distraction. The subtext was clear: his actions in Columbus hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Reckless, Matthews. Really reckless. Sure, the plan with you was still in its infancy, but if this was going to work, it needed direction—intent. Otherwise, it would just look like every other shallow story he’d been a part of.

He needed to fix this. Fast.

Grabbing his phone, Auston scrolled to your contact—“PR Genius”—and fired off a quick text.

Auston: “Coffee today? We need to strategize.”

You: “Agreed. When and where?”

Auston: “3 PM. A café on Yonge. I’ll message the address later. Bring your game face.”

As the message was sent, Auston stared at the screen for a moment longer. This wasn’t just about keeping the media at bay—it was about keeping you on his side. If this plan unravelled, it would take both of you down with it.

A bit further North, your morning was no less chaotic than Auston’s. Jess, ever the early riser, was already on fire by the time your phone buzzed with the first notification.

Jess (7:15 AM): “HOW DARE HE???”

Maya (7:16 AM): “Is he seriously doing this to you? I’m ready to slash some tires.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, even as you groaned at their intensity. To them, it was a betrayal of epic proportions. To you, it was just another complication in the tangled web of your arrangement with Auston. But how could they know that? All they saw was a man seemingly toying with your feelings, and as your best friends, they were ready to go to war on your behalf.

You (7:18 AM): “Guys, relax. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

Maya (7:19 AM): “Not official?! You’re trending as #MysteryQueen, Y/N! That’s practically a royal engagement!”

Jess (7:20 AM): “I swear, if he breaks your heart… bad things will happen!”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at their over-the-top reactions. It was sweet how protective they were, but you couldn’t let them spiral into full-blown outrage.

You (7:22 AM): “Look, it’s still early. He can do whatever he wants—we haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

The group chat fell silent for a moment, long enough for you to think maybe they’d finally let it go. But Jess’s response proved otherwise.

Jess (7:30 AM): “Fine. But he better get his shit together, or I’m hunting him down.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, setting your phone down as you leaned back in your chair with a sigh. Jess and Maya were reacting the way anyone would if they thought their friend was being strung along. You couldn’t exactly blame them for jumping to conclusions—it wasn’t like they knew the truth.

Still, it left you with a heavy feeling you couldn’t quite shake. Sure, you weren’t dating Auston—not really. But even you couldn’t ignore how bad it looked. His actions might not have stung personally, but they made everything feel messier, more complicated. You were suddenly questioning whether this whole arrangement was as foolproof as he’d made it seem.

You stared into your half-empty coffee mug, the quiet of your kitchen contrasting sharply with the chaos in your head. By now, the plan you and Auston had agreed on felt more like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest push.

The afternoon coffee with him couldn’t come soon enough. If this ridiculous plan was going to work, you needed to lay everything out on the table and get on the same page—and fast.

The coffee shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon when you arrived, your workday still clinging to you in the form of a slight tension in your shoulders. You pushed open the door, letting the comforting aroma of roasted beans and the soft murmur of conversation wash over you. The café was the perfect midpoint between your home and Auston’s—a cosy, unassuming spot where you could blend in without drawing too much attention.

You spotted him immediately, leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Felix, his ever-loyal best friend, sat patiently by his side, drawing a few admiring glances from other patrons. Auston, as always, looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at once, exuding an ease that made people take notice without realising they were doing so.

Auston caught sight of you as the barista handed him his drink. He gave you a quick nod, that trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted as you approached. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, offering a small smile as you ordered your coffee.

As Auston watched you at the counter, his gaze lingered longer than he’d intended. You were dressed in your workday attire—professional yet effortless, like you hadn’t spent a second longer than necessary pulling yourself together. But it was the way you carried yourself that intrigued him. Even with the slight tension in your shoulders, there was a quiet determination in your movements, a resilience that he couldn’t help but notice.

Once you had your drinks, you stepped outside, where Felix immediately perked up, tail wagging enthusiastically. “He’s got more energy than I do,” you said, watching the dog sniff at a nearby patch of grass.

“Good thing he burns it off fast,” Auston replied, handing you Felix’s leash with an easy confidence that caught you off guard. “Here, you take him for a bit.”

“Me?” You stared at the leash, then at Felix, who was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Yeah, you,” Auston said, his grin widening. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t let him drag you into traffic.”

You rolled your eyes but took the leash, letting Felix lead the way as the three of you started down the quiet street. Auston glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, amused by the way you held the leash like it might bite you. Despite your initial awkwardness, he had a feeling Felix would win you over in no time.

“You’re stiff,” Auston said after a few moments, his tone casual but observant. “Relax. It’s just a walk.”

“It’s not just a walk,” you muttered, glancing around. “There are probably a dozen people ready to take a picture right now.”

“And what if there are?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the weight of being “seen” felt heavier than you’d anticipated.

“You’re overthinking it,” Auston said after a moment. “We’re just two people, walking a dog. Act like it.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, but the edge in your voice made him smirk.

“Try harder,” he teased.

As Felix tugged you toward a nearby lamppost, Auston found himself studying you again. You didn’t fit the mold of the people who usually surrounded him. There was no pretense, no calculated charm. You were genuine—maybe to a fault, given how uncomfortable you seemed in the spotlight. He found it oddly refreshing.

“He’s really into this whole sniffing thing,” you said, changing the subject as Felix investigated another patch of grass.

“He’s thorough,” Auston said with a chuckle. “Doesn’t miss a single blade of grass.”

The light banter helped ease the awkwardness, and soon, the conversation shifted to more neutral topics. He asked about your day, and to his surprise, you opened up with a candid rundown of your work. You asked him about his travel schedule and the demands of his career, your questions more thoughtful than the usual superficial ones he was used to. And for the first time in a while, he felt like someone was genuinely interested in him, not the player or the famous persona.

“You’re used to it, though, right?” you asked. “The attention?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It comes with the job. You get good at tuning it out.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

He caught it anyway. “You’ll get there,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully confident.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

The conversation gradually turned more personal as you walked, Felix weaving between the two of you. Auston told you about growing up in Scottsdale, his early days in hockey, and how he adjusted to life in Toronto. In return, you shared snippets of your own life—your family, your job, your goals.

Yet, as you spoke, Auston couldn’t help but notice how you deflected any kind of praise. If he complimented your work ethic, you’d shrug it off. If he mentioned your ambition, you’d redirect the conversation. It was clear you weren’t comfortable taking credit for your own strengths, and that baffled him. In his world, confidence was currency, and yours seemed to be in short supply.

By the time you circled back toward the coffee shop, the awkwardness from earlier had all but evaporated. Felix was panting happily, his energy finally burned off, and you felt a little lighter too.

As you handed the leash back to Auston, he gave you a considering look. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“The home game?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to be my…” He trailed off, his smirk turning playful. “It’ll look good. You know, for the act.”

You hesitated, unsure, but he pressed on. “Come on. VIP seats, good company. What’s there to think about?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself nodding. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, pulling Felix closer as he grinned down at you. “And don’t forget your game face.”

As he walked away, Auston couldn’t help but glance back, his thoughts lingering on you longer than he expected. For all your insecurities, there was something undeniably compelling about you. This arrangement might have started as a strategy, but he was beginning to wonder if it could be something else too.

“Oh, Toronto. What a tangled web our Ice King is weaving. One moment he’s dominating the ice (or, well, trying to), and the next, he’s walking through the city with his Mystery Queen by his side—dog in tow, coffee in hand, and cameras lurking around every corner.

It’s a scene straight out of a romance novel: casual smiles, shared laughs, and the kind of chemistry that can’t be ignored (even if it’s staged, we see you, Matthews). Yet, there’s something undeniably intriguing about this pairing. She’s poised, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding him, and he? Well, let’s just say he doesn’t seem to mind the added spotlight when she’s in the frame.

But don’t get too comfortable, dear readers. There are cracks in every façade, and this one is no exception. The whispers in the hockey world are growing louder, and if there’s one thing we know, it’s that the truth has a funny way of coming to light—especially when the stakes are this high.

So, what’s the endgame here? Is this truly a strategic pairing, or are we witnessing the beginning of something that neither of them saw coming? Whatever the answer, you can bet your last sip of Tim’s coffee that I’ll be here to spill the tea.

Until next time, Toronto. Keep your eyes on the ice—and the streets. The season is young, and this story is just getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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