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misshoneyimhome · 3 hours ago

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What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Alrighty, chapter four is here, and I promise we’re spicing things up very soon! Some of you have even written me, asking when things will happen—soon, my loves, soooon 🙈

So, this chapter is all about setting the tone, laying the groundwork, and adding just the right amount of tension before things really start to heat up 😉🔥

Happy reading, my darlings! 😘💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 6.7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three

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Chapter Four: Game On

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Can it be true? Auston Matthews and his enigmatic Queen, spotted on a walk yesterday that nearly blurred the line between staged and sincere? The city is still buzzing from the sighting. It almost seemed close to romantic—dare we say, genuine?

But tonight brings a new chapter. Will we see her face among the sea of blue and white at the Scotiabank Arena, cheering on her King? Or will she remain hidden, a shadow in this carefully crafted narrative? Tell us, Mr. Matthews, are you embarrassed by your newly caught feelings? Is our Ice King unused to wearing his emotions for the world to see?

For tonight’s game, we hope to see the Leafs at their very best. Nylander will need to flex his skills to keep up with the Captain. Lorentz still has time to make his mark on the scoreboard, and Domi—well, he’s overdue for a standout performance. And what about the crease? Will Joseph Woll hold the net, or will we see Anthony Stolarz step up?

One thing’s for sure—this match against the Blues will have us glued to our screens. And who knows? If the Queen does make an appearance, maybe—just maybe—she’ll be the Leafs’ new lucky charm.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Thursday -

The faint smell of wine and takeout filled the air, courtesy of your early dinner with Jess, who was perched on the edge of your bed, sipping from a glass of Chardonnay and eyeing your wardrobe with the precision of a general planning an attack.

“Okay, this is a big night,” she announced, setting her glass on your nightstand with a decisive clink. “First impression in Auston Matthews’s world. We need you looking sexy but chill. Confident but not over-the-top. Like… the kind of girl who doesn’t need to try, even though you’re trying.”

You groaned, sprawled out on the bed beside her with your own glass of wine in hand. “Jess, it’s not that serious. It’s just a game.”

She turned to give you a pointed look, arching a brow. “Not that serious? You’re about to be seen at a hockey home game in Toronto with Auston Matthews. The Auston Matthews. You can’t just show up in, like, leggings and a hoodie.”

“Leggings and a hoodie sound amazing, though,” you joked, though your voice lacked conviction. The nerves bubbling beneath the surface were hard to ignore, even with the wine taking some of the edge off.

Jess wasn’t having it. “No way. Tonight, you’re walking into that arena looking like the kind of woman who belongs in the spotlight. Trust me on this.”

You sighed, sitting up and taking a long sip of your wine. You briefly had to remind yourself, Jess didn’t know the truth about your arrangement with Auston—she thought this was just you, her perpetually overthinking best friend, taking a chance on a guy you weren’t entirely sure about. And because of that, she was determined to support you in the best way she knew how: with wine, fashion advice, and an endless stream of hype.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, setting your glass aside. “What’s the plan?”

Jess’s eyes lit up as she leapt off the bed and flung open your closet doors. “Finally, you’re listening to me. Okay, so…” She rifled through the hangers, pulling out options and tossing them onto the bed with abandon. “Black fitted jeans—because they’re classic and make your legs look amazing. This top—simple but shows just enough skin. And…” She paused dramatically, reaching for the leather jacket she’d brought over herself. “This. You’ll look like a total badass.”

You eyed the pile sceptically. “Isn’t this a little much for a hockey game?”

Jess gave an exaggerated sigh, spinning to face you with her hands on her hips. “Y/N, you’re not just going to a hockey game. You’re going to a hockey game as Auston Matthews’s potential date. Do you understand the difference?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Fine. But only because you’re so insistent.”

She grinned triumphantly, shoving the outfit into your hands. “Go put it on. I need to see how it looks.”

As you changed in the bathroom, the reality of the night ahead settled in. You stared at your reflection, smoothing the fabric of the top and adjusting the jacket. Jess’s choices were undeniably flattering—she had a knack for knowing what worked. You looked confident, polished, and maybe even a little sexy. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another part of the act.

When you stepped back into the room, Jess let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna knock him dead.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you smoothed the jacket. “It’s just a game, Jess.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s not just a game. You’re putting yourself out there, and that’s huge. I know you’re nervous but trust me—he’s going to take one look at you and forget how to skate.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing,” Jess countered, grabbing her wine glass and raising it in a toast. “To new beginnings, hot hockey players, and you finally letting yourself have some fun.”

You clinked glasses with her, the warmth of her encouragement easing some of your nerves. As much as you hated lying to her about the truth of your arrangement with Auston, you couldn’t deny that her belief in you made it easier to face the night ahead.

“Thanks, Jess,” you said softly, offering her a small smile.

“Anytime, babe,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “Now, go out there and own it.”

You weren’t sure if you believed her, but as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, you decided to try. After all, you had a role to play—and Jess was making sure you looked damn good doing it.

The Scotiabank Arena towered before you, its massive sign glowing against the darkening Toronto skyline. The hum of the city surrounded you, a mix of muffled conversations, car horns, and the occasional cheer from a passing Leafs fan. Despite Jess’s earlier pep talk and her enthusiastic assurance that you looked “effortlessly stunning,” the butterflies in your stomach were relentless.

This wasn’t your first time at the arena—not by a long shot. You’d been here a few times for work, navigating its corridors and dealing with its buzzing energy. But tonight felt different. It was the first time you were here as a spectator, not a professional. The first time you were walking through these doors without the shield of a clipboard or a press pass. And, more importantly, the first time you were walking in as Auston Matthews’ guest.

You paused at the private entrance Auston had directed you to, smoothing your leather jacket nervously. His instructions had been straightforward: head here, and someone would meet you. He’d arrive separately with the team, as per their routine. He’d assured you it would go smoothly, but as you stood there, surrounded by a handful of stylishly dressed women who clearly belonged, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

The door opened, and a woman stepped out, her confident stride and warm smile immediately drawing your attention. Aryne, John Tavares’ wife, you realised, recognising her from photos and media coverage. She exuded an effortless charm, her tailored coat draped perfectly over her shoulders and her makeup understated yet flawless.

“You must be Y/N!” Aryne said, her voice light and welcoming as she approached you. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a quick, friendly hug, her warmth immediately cutting through some of your nerves. “Auston told us you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, returning the hug with a tentative smile. “Thanks for letting me… uh, crash the party.”

Aryne laughed, waving off your comment as if it were absurd. “You’re not crashing anything. Trust me, it’s nice to have someone new around. Plus, Auston seemed pretty insistent that you’d fit right in.”

Her words eased the tightness in your chest slightly, though the mention of Auston made your cheeks warm. Aryne motioned for you to follow her inside, leading you down a hallway and into a lounge area where a few of the other partners and family members were gathered.

“Ladies,” Aryne announced, her tone playful, “this is Y/N. Auston’s…” She paused, giving you a cheeky grin. “New friend.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again. The women turned to greet you, their smiles genuine, though you could sense the curiosity behind their polite expressions.

“Hi,” you said, offering a small wave as you stepped into the room.

One of the women, Stephanie Marner, was the first to speak. She leaned back in her chair, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she regarded you with an amused smile. “So, you and Auston, huh?” she teased, her tone light but curious.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Uh… yeah,” you said finally, feeling your cheeks flush. “We’re… still getting to know each other.”

Tessa Virtue, Morgan Rielly’s wife, swooped in, saving you with a grin. “Don’t let them scare you,” she said, giving Stephanie a playful nudge. “We all had to go through this initiation phase, too.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself smiling despite your nerves. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension easing as the women began to chat about the game, their partners, and their plans for the weekend. Their excitement was infectious, and though you still felt a little out of place, their warmth made it easier to relax. Plus, there were snacks for you to enjoy. Which made it oddly comforting.

And just as the group prepared to head to the suite, Aryne handed you a Toronto Maple Leafs cap with a knowing look.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you. “You can’t sit in the stands without repping the team.”

You hesitated, glancing at the cap as if it might bite you. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this kind of…?”

Aryne rolled her eyes, smiling. “Come on. Consider it part of the experience. Plus, you’ll look great in it.”

The others chimed in with playful encouragement, and, reluctantly, you took the cap, sliding it on and adjusting it over your hair. The group cheered like you’d just scored a goal yourself, their playful energy infectious.

“Perfect,” Aryne said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe—just maybe—you could actually blend in. As you followed the group toward the suite, the buzz of the arena growing louder with each step, you decided to let yourself enjoy the moment, nerves, and all. After all, if Auston could play it cool, so could you.

The suite was an oasis of understated elegance and energy, seamlessly blending luxury with the electrifying anticipation of the arena below. Drinks and snacks prepared to indulge. Plush leather seats and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the rink, where players zipped across the ice during warm-ups, their movements fluid and precise. The low hum of the crowd grew louder as fans filtered in, their cheers and chants creating a symphony of excitement.

Settling into your seat between Aryne and Ashley, one of the newer partners, you let the energy of the arena wash over you. Aryne had already explained to you the program, complete with the team’s roster and a brief overview of tonight’s matchup. Ashley, a bubbly brunette with an infectious smile, leaned toward you as the players took their warm-up laps.

“This must feel different for you, right?” she asked, her tone light but curious. “I heard you usually work behind the scenes.”

You nodded, glancing out at the ice. “Yeah, it’s definitely a change. I’m used to having a laptop or a phone glued to my hand, trying to juggle a million things at once. But this?” You gestured toward the rink and the crowd. “It’s… nice.”

Aryne smirked, crossing her legs as she adjusted her jacket. “Give it time. You’ll get used to it. And just wait until the playoffs—then you’ll really see chaos.”

Her words made the women around you laugh knowingly, and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite your initial nerves, their easy camaraderie and willingness to include you made the night feel less intimidating. You could feel some of your tension melting away as the puck dropped and the game began.

The game itself was a rollercoaster of emotions, a vivid tapestry of skill and chaos that pulled you in from the first puck drop. The energy in the Scotiabank Arena was electric, surging and swelling with every rush up the ice and every close save. You found your eyes darting between players, trying to follow the puck as it zipped across the rink. The sheer speed of the game, the strategic elegance of the plays, and the raw, physical battles along the boards—it was hard not to be swept up in the spectacle.

The crowd around you amplified everything, their collective emotions vibrating through the space. The thunderous roar after a near-miss, the sharp intake of breath before a crucial face-off, and the rhythmic chants of ��Go Leafs Go!” reverberating through the air. It was impossible not to feel their passion seep into your bones.

Still, despite the relentless pace of the game, your attention kept drifting back to Auston. There was something magnetic about watching him play. His movements were a blend of power and precision, each stride purposeful, each pass deliberate. When he had the puck on his stick, the arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to make magic.

That magic moment came midway through the first period. Auston darted through the Blues’ defense, his movements calculated yet fluid. He threaded the puck between two defenders with an impossibly quick flick of his wrist, and the sound of it hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers that followed.

The suite was no exception. Everyone around you shot to their feet, clapping and cheering as Auston raised his stick in triumph. The grin on his face as he glanced toward the crowd was equal parts exhilaration and pride.

And completely caught up in the energy, you found yourself standing, clapping, and smiling wider than you had in weeks. “That was incredible,” you muttered under your breath.

“See?” Aryne said, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “You’re already a good luck charm.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment as you sat back down. “I think that had more to do with him than me.”

“Maybe,” she teased with a knowing wink. “But we’re a superstitious bunch, so don’t be surprised if you get invited to every game from now on.”

The atmosphere only grew more charged as the game progressed. Between periods, Aryne and Ashley shared tips on following the plays, along with a few lighthearted stories about their partners’ quirks. The conversations were warm, easy, and genuine, slowly chipping away at your initial nerves.

By the second intermission, you were astonished by how much more at ease you felt. The tension that had gripped you earlier had dissipated, replaced by the infectious camaraderie of the group and the sheer joy of being part of the game-day experience.

“So,” Stephanie said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “What’s it like being at the centre of all this Auston Matthews drama? You had to know what you were getting into.”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied with a mock-serious tone, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I totally signed up for endless speculation and internet sleuths digging into my life.”

The women laughed, their amusement genuine. Aryne smiled knowingly, adding, “It’s par for the course around here. You get used to it.”

Stephanie leaned back, her grin widening. “And Auston’s reputation doesn’t make it any easier, huh? He’s always been a rumour magnet.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Yeah, I hear he’s got quite the reputation. Lucky me, right?”

The room erupted into laughter, Stephanie nearly spilling her drink as Aryne shot you an impressed look. “See? You’re already fitting in.”

The encouragement bolstered your confidence, and as the game wore on, you found yourself becoming more invested. The back-and-forth battle on the ice kept you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every breakaway and every save. You couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of the suite, your voice blending into the symphony of excitement that filled the arena.

The third period was a nail-biter. The Leafs clung to a one-goal lead, the tension in the arena palpable with every tick of the clock. When the final buzzer sounded, confirming a 3-2 victory, the eruption of cheers was deafening. The players on the ice celebrated, hugging and fist-bumping as the crowd roared their approval.

In the suite, everyone was on their feet again, exchanging high-fives and hugs. Auston had notched two assists to go with his goal, and the chants of “MVP! MVP!” from the crowd sent a strange swell of pride through your chest.

For the first time in years, you felt more than just an observer. You weren’t sitting behind a screen, detached and analytical. You were part of the excitement, the energy, the celebration. And as you glanced around the suite, at the smiles and laughter surrounding you, you felt a flicker of something else—belonging.

“Oh, Toronto, what a night it was at Scotiabank Arena! The Leafs may have skated to a thrilling 3-2 victory over the St. Louis Blues, but let’s not pretend the game itself was the only highlight. Our Ice King, Auston Matthews, not only delivered a standout performance with a goal and two assists but also had an unmistakable aura of… let’s call it motivation.

And who, dear readers, could be the source of such inspiration? Why, none other than our newly anointed ‘Mystery Queen,’ spotted in the VIP section, clapping and cheering like a seasoned fan. Donning a Leafs cap—how perfectly symbolic—she blended in seamlessly with the partners and families, a feat not easily achieved.

Rumour has it she was quite the charmer, holding her own amidst the suite’s usual suspects with a mix of humour, wit, and perhaps a dash of nerves. But what does this mean for our beloved captain? Is she truly a lucky charm, or was this just another chess move in the ever-evolving Matthews narrative?

One thing’s for sure: the Ice King played like a man with something to prove. And with the crowd roaring and the Queen smiling in the stands, the buzz around this pairing only grows stronger.

Toronto, hold onto your pucks—this story is far from over. - The Benchwarmer”

The corridor leading to the players’ lounge had transformed into a hive of post-game celebration and camaraderie. The noise was an invigorating blend of laughter, cheers, and congratulatory chatter, punctuated by the occasional sound of a locker room door swinging open. The energy was infectious, and for the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of ease, like you might actually belong here.

Aryne walked beside you, her effortless grace balancing out your nervous energy. She glanced back over her shoulder, her warm smile a steadying presence. “You’re doing great,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the din. “This is the fun part.”

You smiled back, grateful for her reassurance, but before you could respond, the door to the locker room opened again. This time, Auston stepped out, his figure unmistakable even in the sea of tall, athletic frames. Dressed in a sharp, fitted shirt and perfectly fitted trousers, he moved with an ease that only heightened his natural confidence. A faint sheen still clung to his brow from the game, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

His eyes locked on yours almost instantly, and a slow, easy grin spread across his face. His strides lengthened as he approached, and the world seemed to blur for a moment. The noise, the people, the buzzing energy—it all faded into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower and warmer than you remembered. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied, matching his smile. “You didn’t think I’d bail, did you?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah. You’re tougher than that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so sure—made your chest tighten unexpectedly. Before you could dwell on it, Auston turned slightly, gesturing toward the room behind him. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to the team for real.”

You followed him deeper into the family area, where the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the space. Auston’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, a touch so casual and natural it almost felt rehearsed. But it wasn’t—it was just him.

The first group he approached was of course Mitch Marner and William Nylander, two players whose reputations were as outsized as their talent. Mitch was mid-story, gesturing animatedly as William leaned against a nearby wall, nodding along with an amused smile.

“Hey, guys,” Auston said, cutting through their conversation. “You remember Y/N from the gala?”

Mitch turned first, his expression lighting up immediately. “Of course! Y/N, the one who somehow made Auston look like a gentleman for a night.”

You laughed, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Well, someone had to do it.”

William chuckled, tipping his water bottle toward you. “Nice to see you again, Y/N. So, was this Auston’s idea, or did you volunteer for this madness?”

“Oh, completely forced,” you replied, your tone playful. “Though I wasn’t fully briefed on the chirping committee.”

Mitch clutched his chest in mock offense. “Chirping committee? Us? Matthews, she’s already calling you out. I like her.”

Auston smirked, shaking his head. “I told you, they’re relentless.”

From there, the introductions continued. John Tavares approached next, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to Mitch’s exuberance. He extended a hand, his grip firm but friendly. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again. How’s your night been?”

“Great,” you said, smiling. “Though I’ll admit, watching from the stands is a lot more stressful than it looks.”

John’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “That’s how you know you’re invested. I’m glad you could make it.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself engaged in easy banter with the players, their warmth and humour surprising you. Joseph Woll shyly recalled your conversation at the gala, lighting up when you mentioned PR strategies. Matthew Knies ribbed you about Auston’s music taste, and Morgan Rielly laughed as you poked fun at his dog’s Instagram fame.

Your quick wit seemed to resonate with the group, drawing laughter and amused glances. Even Auston, who often held back in these settings, seemed to relax, his usual aloofness giving way to a softer, more genuine side.

And at one point, Mitch turned to Auston with a mischievous grin. “So, how’d you manage to convince her to put up with you?”

Auston tilted his head thoughtfully. “She hasn’t run away yet, so I must be doing something right.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “I’m still weighing my options.”

The group erupted into laughter, Mitch nearly doubling over as Auston shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As the conversations flowed and the players began to drift off to their families, you realised something you hadn’t expected: you were enjoying yourself. This world still felt foreign in many ways, but tonight, surrounded by their camaraderie and Auston’s steady presence, you felt like you were beginning to find your footing.

The ride home started out in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine blending with the muffled sounds of the city outside. The glow of streetlights filtered through the windows, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow across the interior of Auston’s car. The events of the night replayed in your mind like a highlight reel: the nervousness of stepping into the suite, the tentative but welcoming smiles of the players’ partners and families, the rush of watching Auston score, and the camaraderie that had felt almost effortless by the end of the night. The tension you’d carried earlier had mostly dissipated, replaced by a quiet sense of accomplishment. You had survived—no, thrived—in a situation that had seemed impossibly daunting just hours ago.

As the car turned onto a quieter street, Auston glanced over at you briefly, his profile lit by the faint glow of the dashboard. “You were great tonight,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked over at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “What, great at standing around and not embarrassing myself?” you teased lightly, shifting your gaze back to the city passing by outside. “Well, I didn’t trip over my words or accidentally insult anyone, so I’ll take that as a win.”

Auston chuckled, but his expression remained serious. “No, I mean it,” he said, his voice a touch more earnest now. “The guys really liked you. You fit in. Like… it wasn’t forced. It seemed natural.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you turned to him, one brow arched in faint amusement. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said quickly, though the slight pause in his response made you wonder if he was trying to convince himself. “Just… impressed. I didn’t expect you to settle into the group so easily.”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “That’s just me playing my part,” you said, your tone soft but pointed. “You said we needed to sell this, so I’m selling it.”

Auston gave a small laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a brief smirk. “Well, you’re a pretty damn good actress then.”

The air in the car shifted, a comfortable quiet settling over you both. But there was something in his expression—something softer, almost contemplative—that caught you off guard. For a moment, the usual arrogance and bravado that seemed to define him weren’t there. Instead, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, more genuine. It made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Auston added after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It was a good move, but… I’m happy you were there.”

You blinked at him, the honesty in his words catching you off guard again. “Well, I’m glad it worked out,” you said with a small smile. “And I guess I didn’t hate it.”

“High praise,” he said with a playful smirk, but there was a warmth in his eyes that lingered.

For the first time all night, the car felt like a bubble—separate from the city’s hum outside and the buzz of the game that had filled the hours before. Auston’s casual arrogance, so often grating, seemed to have softened into something more vulnerable. It wasn’t something he said, but the quiet moments in between, the glances he threw your way when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he listened when you spoke, like he wasn’t just going through the motions. For a fleeting second, you thought you might be wrong about him—that maybe beneath the smug exterior, there was a person worth knowing.

But just as that thought began to take root, the shrill ding of a notification shattered it. His phone, glowing on the center console, displayed the kind of text you couldn’t misinterpret: Tonight? I’ll be free after midnight. The name attached wasn’t familiar, but it didn’t have to be. The implications were clear.

A dry, involuntary laugh escaped your lips. “Of course,” you said, your voice dripping with derision. “The line forms to the left, huh?”

Auston’s head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gestured toward his phone, still illuminated with the incriminating message. “Oh, come on,” you said, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You’ve got half of Toronto’s pussies lining up to keep you company. It’s impressive, really.”

His jaw tensed, the easygoing confidence from just moments ago replaced with something harder. “You shouldn’t even care,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “You’re the one who wanted this fake relationship. Maybe try not to blow it by making it obvious you’re still… fucking the entire city. Plus other cities.”

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine. Auston’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather. “I’m not blowing anything,” he said finally, his voice sharper now, defensive. “And you don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Oh well maybe I do when you’re ruining this for yourself, Auston. If you want people to believe we’re becoming a thing, maybe don’t act like you’re one text away from another hookup.”

His face darkened, his cool exterior cracking under the weight of your words. “You think it’s that easy?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “That I can just flip a switch and turn it all off? I still have needs, you know.”

“Oh poor boy. You know not all of us feel the need to fuck every single living organism,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s really simple.”

Auston’s jaw worked as he processed your jab, his nostrils flaring slightly. But instead of anger, a flicker of amusement crossed his face, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re some sort of fucking saint? Like guys aren’t throwing themselves at you? You act like you’re a nun or something”

The weight of his accusation hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded, each beat reverberating in your ears as the truth—the embarrassing, vulnerable truth—sat on the tip of your tongue. And in your frustration, it spilled out before you could stop it.

“What if I am, Auston?” you said, your voice sharper now, thick with unfiltered honesty. “Not all of us measure our self-worth by how many people we’ve slept with. Not everyone wants to be dicked down by so-called famous hockey players. And not all of us have guys lining up for us to pick and choose.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the sharp edges of your voice cutting through the tense silence that had settled between you. Auston’s half-smirk vanished, replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—shock, maybe, or disbelief. His grip on the wheel tightened.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Then he glanced at you, his eyes searching your face for something—confirmation, maybe, or an explanation. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re serious?”

You turned your head sharply to face him, your jaw set, and your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What do you think, Auston?” you snapped. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

His eyes flickered between you and the road again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. “I just… I didn’t expect—” He broke off, shaking his head slightly. “I mean, look at you.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting through the thick tension. “Yeah, I get that a lot. ‘Look at you.’ Like that’s supposed to explain everything. Guess what, Auston? Not everyone gets a free pass to the front of the line just because they look a certain way.”

His jaw tightened at your tone, but his expression softened in a way that made you uncomfortable, like he was seeing you in a light you hadn’t intended to reveal. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low. “I just… I can’t believe guys aren’t—” He stopped himself again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me you’ve never…”

You crossed your arms, staring out the window as you interrupted him. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a virgin… I just… haven’t had… several. And before you ask, no, it’s not because I’m waiting for ‘the one’ or some bullshit like that. It’s just… life, okay? I’ve had other things to focus on.”

The admission felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you refused to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his expression. Pity? Judgment? Mockery? You didn’t want any of it.

Auston was quiet for a long moment, his hands gripping the wheel as he processed what you’d said. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more measured. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like… like that’s all that matters. I’m just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, congrats,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Glad I could surprise you.”

He let out a slow breath, his jaw working as though he was choosing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I swear. It’s just… unexpected. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, your tone still sharp, “maybe don’t assume everyone lives their life the way you do.”

That hit its mark. You saw his jaw clench, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said finally, his voice low and tense.

“Don’t I?” you shot back dryly, turning to face him. “You make it pretty obvious, Auston. The texts, the smug attitude, the way you act like you’ve got everything and everyone figured out. It’s not exactly a mystery.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping the wheel harder. “You think I don’t know what people say about me? What they think? You think it’s easy being in the spotlight all the time, having everyone assume they know who you are?”

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It was the first time he’d let his guard slip, even slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you have to live up to their expectations, Auston. You’re allowed to be more than what they see.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he turned back to the road. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as simple as you think.”

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken words. When he finally pulled up outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, Auston,” you said, your voice flat.

He hesitated, his hands still on the wheel. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car without looking back, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap. As you walked toward your building, your mind raced, replaying every word, every moment of the conversation. You’d shown Auston a side of yourself you hadn’t meant to reveal, and now you weren’t sure if you could ever take it back.

And yet, beneath the anger and the embarrassment, there was something else—a flicker of curiosity. For the first time, you’d seen cracks in Auston’s carefully constructed facade, glimpses of the person beneath the arrogance. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but wonder what else he was hiding.

Auston sat in the dim silence of his car a bit longer after you’d walked away, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. The image of your expression—hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable—lingered in his mind, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t shake. A part of him felt guilty. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Mocking something so deeply personal wasn’t just unkind; it was cruel.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly as he stared out at the empty street. Why had he reacted like that? It wasn’t like him to lose his composure, but something about you—your sharp tongue, your defiance, the way you challenged him—had him constantly off balance. And now, after tonight, he couldn’t stop replaying your words.

He tried to make sense of it. You weren’t like the other women he’d been around. They had always been eager, predictable, and easy to impress. But you? You were different. Gorgeous, smart, and fiercely independent. You had a drive and ambition that matched his own, yet there was something you held back, something that made you guarded. It wasn’t insecurity, not entirely. It was like you didn’t see yourself the way others did, like you didn’t realise how much power you actually had.

It frustrated him, but more than that, it intrigued him. How could someone like you not have the confidence to own a room? To own yourself? If you could just see what he saw, you’d be unstoppable.

That’s when the idea hit him—a small spark at first, but the longer he sat there, the more it began to take shape. Maybe this was something he could help you with. After all, confidence was something he had in abundance. It wasn’t just about his career or his reputation; it was a part of him, ingrained in everything he did. And if there was one thing Auston Matthews excelled at, besides hockey, it was teaching people how to win.

The thought gave him a strange sense of purpose, something he wasn’t used to feeling outside the rink. He knew he’d have to tread carefully—suggesting such a thing wasn’t exactly subtle—but if he could help you unlock the confidence you seemed to lack, maybe you’d start to see yourself the way he saw you.

And as he drove home, his mind raced with possibilities, already planning how he could broach the topic without making it awkward. When he finally parked outside his place, the notifications on his phone buzzed incessantly. He unlocked it to find a flood of messages—texts, DMs, and even missed calls—from women he’d hooked up with in the past. The sight of their names and their offers for late-night company felt almost… hollow. Normally, this would be a welcome distraction, a way to shake off the stress of the day. But tonight, none of it appealed to him.

He stared at the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it back into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, the usual comforts didn’t hold the same allure. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to you—your fire, your vulnerability, and the way you’d thrown his own arrogance back in his face. It unsettled him, but it also left him wanting more.

Auston couldn’t explain it, but he knew one thing for certain: helping you wasn’t just about making this fake relationship believable anymore. It had become something else entirely.

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Ah, fairytales. What we love most about them isn’t the ball, the glimmering gowns, or even the triumphant cheers of the crowd—it’s the moment the clock strikes midnight. When the glitter fades and the truth steps out from behind its polished veneer. Tonight, our kingdom was alive with victory: William Nylander displayed his prowess, and the ever-wonderful Joseph Woll stood tall as a fortress in the net.

But what of our King and his Queen?

The public saw perfection—two figures poised and radiant, playing their parts to the delight of the masses. Yet, what happens after the stars leave the castle? When the carriage rolls down quieter streets and the world’s eyes no longer linger? Is that the faintest hint of cracks we see forming in their carefully constructed foundation?

Your Majesties, is the story over before it’s even begun?

One must wonder, Toronto. For even in the most enchanting tales, there’s always the question: was it all just an illusion?

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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