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misshoneyimhome · 4 days ago

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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

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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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