#i say tyler seguin definitely

[stuckinnet]

#generous of the author to assume that hockey men can Read

but also. which hockey men do we think would read fic of themselves?

hockey fandom be like:

(page from light up the lamp by kit oliver, an m/m hockey romance)

[blusical]

The sexualization of hockey players is too normalized.

(TW: Sexual harassment, stalking, victim blaming(?). Reader discretion advised) (Notes: No DNI on this post since I want this to be an open discussion, just don't be an asshole and keep it SFW). To clear any potential confusion, I wanna add some disclaimers. 1. No, this isn't about real person fiction as a whole. The concept of RPF is a more complicated subject that crosses fanfic discourse territory, and that kind of discourse is not something I want to promote on this blog for my own comfort. 2. For the record, there is nothing wrong with having a crush on a player, or finding a player hot or cute. However, trying to sexually harass them is when it becomes a problem. 3. Yes, this is about the Alex Wennberg situation. TL;DR: We as hockey fans need to be more fucking respectful of a hockey player's boundaries and privacy. Again, having a crush on them or fantasizing about them isn't a bad thing, but going to their social media and saying such things crosses the line.

I think we can all safely say that we've all had our moments where we developed a crush on a hockey player. I think we can say that we've all had our moments where we had *certain* fantasies about them too. However, I think we all need to learn that there are times where it can go too far. And that is exactly what's going on with Alex Wennberg. Who's Alex Wennberg and what's going on? Alex Wennberg is an NHL player currently playing for the Seattle Kraken. Recently, his wife has spoken out against some sexual harassment that has been occurring against him, particularly in the form of writing. (Warning: NSFW comment in one screenshot)

However, this ultimately only led to further harassment against not only Alex, but his wife as well.

This ultimately led to Felicia and Alex making further statements shown below. (I've had to take multiple screencaps of the statements since they get pretty long). Felicia's statement:

Alex's statement:

This has been a problem for a while. Unfortunately, this isn't new. You might have seen this video featuring Connor Bedard, who was seventeen at the time. Tbh, this isn't sexualization per se, but it's still very uncomfortable and still an example of how obsessive hockey fans can be. In the video, Connor Bedard is signing jerseys, and a mother and a daughter come up to him, with the daughter asking Bedard to be her valentine, with the mom demanding that Bedard says yes. Bedard does eventually budge and say yes. Though while it might be easily brushed off as a "haha fans having fun" thing, keep in mind that Bedard was only 17 at the time. I have no idea how old the daughter was, but either way.

And it's not just limited to that. It's not uncommon to see really cursed signs. Including *this* one.

There's also something about Tyler Seguin's wife stalking Seguin as well, however I have no clue on the validity of that claim since most sources have been gossip blogs. However, that's not to say that there isn't some creepy stuff towards Seguin either, and the screenshots I've seen are definitely real.

(And no, I'm not posting the one with his address). The Double Standard when it comes to harassment towards players. Until now, this issue wasn't being talked about, let alone called out. However, I believe the reason for that being is a double standard. If the players were female, there would be a lot of discussion around it. The fans that were harassing the players, especially the male fans, would get shunned easily, and would probably be driven off the site. And of course, if the roles were reversed, the players would be called out for sexually harassing the fans as well. So... why is it any different when a male player gets sexually harassed? The answer is simple: It isn't. It's still harassment, regardless of gender. And I think we as hockey fans need to understand that. And I am absolutely astonished that this kind of behavior is normalized and even *encouraged*. Learning when the line is crossed. Again, I get it. We've all had a crush on a player. We've all had fantasies about a player. For example, I've felt similar about multiple players. There are some I do find cute, and I do fantasize about being with them. However, does this mean I'm going to go onto their Twitter or Instagram page and share those fantasies? Absolutely not. This is where the line is. They don't need to know what I think about them outside of how good they played, and they certainly don't need to know about what you think of them outside of how good they played either. It becomes a problem when you go towards that player's social media and comment those things on said social media page, or if you tag the player you're talking about. After that, it's not really a healthy obsession or a healthy crush anymore. It's straight up harassment. And of course, you can write and read fanfic about them all you want. Hell, I'll admit I've read some hockey RPF of my own. However, if you're going to post fanfiction about a player, don't tag the player in question, especially if the fanfic is NSFW. And especially don't fucking send it to them either. After that, the "fiction" in RPF is less fiction and, you guessed it, just straight-up harassment. Fiction is supposed to be just that: Fiction. Final Thoughts. I think we, as hockey fans, need to do better when it comes to how we treat hockey players and athletes overall. Not just in this particular context, but in general. The truth is, hockey players aren't just fictional characters or mythical beings or toys that we get to play with. They're living people. They're living, breathing people. They still have boundaries and they still deserve privacy, and that needs to be respected. (And sidenote: If I see anyone say that "being a celebrity means giving up privacy" or anything among those lines, I'm blocking you). Lastly, I'm thankful that Felicia and Alex Wennberg spoke out about this, even though they honestly didn't have to (and in fact they really shouldn't have to even reach that level, but alas..). And I honestly hope this creates conversation and helps hockey fans reevaluate what they say online. And, to Hockeytok and Booktok in particular, if you're reading this right now, I only have one thing to say: Do better.

(Tags are for reach and filter purposes) Edit: One more thing. if you genuinely think Alex and Felicia are at fault for the harassment they're getting, please block me.

[trevuorzegras]

meet vamp!

she/her 18 istp aries gryffindor

౨ৎ hi everyone! before we get started i’d like to once again say my theme is heavily inspired by @wintfleur!

౨ৎ moving on, hi i’m vamp! this is going to be a small introduction for my account, as a small get 2 know me. if you have any questions, or even want to be friends don’t be afraid to dm, or inbox me >_<

💌 as of right now i mostly write for hockey, and f1. i am definitely open to extending who i write for, just shoot me a request, and i will do my best to get to it as quickly as i can!

💌 #1 quinn hughes fan girl ࣪ canucks dick rider f1 & redbull racing lover ࣪ glenn & maggie rhee’s gf .ᐟ

some of my favorites . . . ཐི❤︎��ྀ

hockey ᡣ𐭩 quinn hughes ࣪ mark estapa ࣪ arturs silovs tyler seguin ࣪ olen zellweger ࣪ dylan duke ࣪ jt miller

f1 ᡣ𐭩 max verstappen ࣪ lewis hamilton ࣪ pierre gasly carlos sainz ࣪ nico hulkenberg ࣪ franco colapinto

shows ᡣ𐭩 the walking dead ࣪ sons of anarchy the 100 ࣪ 9-1-1 ࣪ swat ࣪ titans ࣪ baby ࣪ t@gged 2 broke girls ࣪ julie & the phantoms

movies ᡣ𐭩 nerve ࣪ harry potter ࣪ twisters ࣪ divergent nightmare before christmas ࣪ 2 fast 2 furious ࣪ tmr 10 things i hate about you ࣪ purple hearts ࣪ avatar

music ᡣ𐭩 zach bryan ࣪ lil peep ࣪ $uicideboy$ ࣪ creed seether ࣪ slipknot ࣪ 3 doors down ࣪ buckcherry puddle of mudd ࣪ jason aldean ࣪ warren zeiders halsey ࣪ bryson tiller ❤️

[annieqattheperipheral]

what did pkane do? besides be on the blackhawks?

Sure here you go:

Y'know how as a young hotshot star in the league tyler seguin would get drunk and have a lot of sex and party and all those old posts just make us laugh bc what a fun-loving immature goof whose unprofessionalism messed it up for him with his first team???

Yea well add on physical and sexual assault to that and getting the full protection of the Blackhawks and every other hockeyman-- that's what the pkane experience was. especially in the off-seasons back in new york.

Drank too much, assaulted people, got away with it bc he's a precious 1st overall

There was the one rape case that was dropped bc the mother presented fake evidence, but that doesn't take away from the stream of off-ice drunken assaults that followed this dirtbag around, including choking and sexual assault. Just a real do u know who i am bs stank announcing his presence. Think of your favourite star athletes, do any of them have a stream of alleged assault claims following them around? Ofc sure, they party and use their popularity to get laid, but are they generally known as repulsive human beings?

And oh yea he was charged and convicted (for something lesser ofc) in the cab driver assault. The one where the fare came to $14.80. the driver didn't have the 20cents change so pkane's cousin held him down while he beat up the 60yr old man.

That is most definitely a human who made life worse for Kyle Beach in Chicago, where after it was known what had happened, teammates taunted him with homophobic insults as if it had been his choice to be sexually assaulted.

Sure ppl can change and grow. Sure. I just haven't seen any evidence of that publicly beyond no longer hearing of anymore assaults. His response when Kyle Beach came forward a few years back? Defended his coaches and teammates, lied about ever knowing. Even jtoews (fuck him too) lied a little better by saying he found out a year after it happened.

Why tf do fun sports things have to come at the cost of accepting shitty people?? News alert, they don't. We don't need these kinds of people.

So yea, i don't care for him.

Feel free to google his name with any bad word you can think of. Anti-semitic, too. yes you can throw that in too. Something will come up.

[phdmama]

okay non-hockey folks pls to avert your eyes

I'm not saying I'm gonna write hrpf but nor am I saying I am definitely NOT going to write it

but because I am who I am as person... I am going to construct a lil social network analysis because I like to do things like that

two questions below the cut:

I'm planning to weight my edges - this is my first take on the scale - any commentary?

1 - Shared a Draft Class

2 - All Star Teammates

3 - Special Teammates Only (meaning worlds or olympics or whatnot)

4 - Teammates

5 - Teammates and Special Teammates

Second: here's my initial list - anyone else you might want to see added? (not sure how many hockey mutuals I have!!)

Sidney Crosby Evgeni Malkin Patrick Kane Jonathan Toews Jamie Benn Tyler Seguin Travis Konecny Nolan Patrick Mitch Marner Nicklas Backstrom Alexander Ovechkin Leon Draisaitl Matthew Tkachuk Jamie Drysdale Trevor Zegras Connor McDavid Jack Eichel Dylan Strome Nico Hirschier Jack Hugues Luke Hughes Quinn Hughes Tim Stutzle Willy Nylander Erik Karlsson

[cgsf]

Men's Hockey (RPF) fanfiction recs:

Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin

"A Fool for Lesser Things" (E) by Linsky | 11,553 | Still, though—no way. People don’t just forget four years of their lives. “You’re gonna need to give me way more than that if you want me to believe you,” Jamie says. “Did he wake up yet?” someone asks, and Tyler fucking Seguin walks into the room.

"I Feel Like I’ve Been Locked Up Tight" (E) by Linsky | 33,976 | Jamie’s not sure where he missed the boat on the whole sex thing.

"Something Like a Crush" (E) by purplecatsweater | 3,807 | It isn’t that Jamie isn’t incredibly aware of how close Tyler is – his fingers curled over Jamie’s arm, his leg thrown over Jamie’s, his breath coming in short bursts against Jamie’s collarbone once he shuts up and actually pays attention to the movie. Really, it’s just that Jamie is used to it. Tyler wouldn’t know what personal space was if it smacked him in the face, and Jamie’s never really complained.

"gonna have to ask about" (E) by ferrassie | 6,783 | This is not Tyler’s apartment. He has no idea how he got here or who he’s sleeping beside, face hidden in the pillow. He’s been sitting up long enough to wake him, though. “Tyler,” he says, voice muffled and rough with sleep. “You awake?” He looks up with half-lidded eyes, dark hair a mess.

"Door to Door" 🔒 (E) by Ferritin4 | 10,148 | "I work two jobs. I’m Tyler," Tyler says, extending his hand. "Do you want to come in?" Well, he’s not doing anything illegal, Jamie thinks, shaking it, because no criminal in the history of crime has ever willingly invited a cop into their house, and there is no one in the city of Dallas who hasn’t pegged Jamie as a cop within six seconds of meeting him.

"Whatever You Want" (E) by LouLa | 2,449 | Jamie's possessive streak is something Tyler’s seen more and more of over the past few weeks.

"you haven't moved an inch" (M) by blinkiesays | 7,301 | To be honest, Jamie's gotten drunk and woken up in relationships before. He's not proud, but, you know. It is what it is. He just didn't think it would ever happen with somebody like Tyler.

"God, You Two Are So Married" (E) by popfly | 3,900 | 75% of what people say when they're joking is true. When it comes to Jamie and Tyler's fake wedding it's more like 99.9%.

"definitely, maybe" 🔒 (T) by carissima | 7,935 | He’s never met anyone and thought that they could be The One. But he looks at Jamie and he thinks, maybe.

"Captivated by You, Baby" (E) by Linsky | 9,049 | Tyler said to watch, but—Jamie’s pretty sure this isn’t what he meant.

"it's not a slow dance (this modern romance)" 🔒 (M) by fadeastride | 3,989 | He knows he's a little stupid when it comes to Jamie, a little too easy, a little blind to the rules of platonic friendship. Still, there's no reason for the next thing out of his mouth to be, “Hell, I could do it.”

"Sex Bomb" (E) by my99centdreams | 7,175 | He's got to say something. He's got to. They've been together for almost a year now and his - his need for this god damn word has been here for the entire fucking time. He can't escape it. He wants it so bad.

"Look at the wonderful mess that we made" (E) by sherlockelly | 89,563 | A name-on-wrist soulmate AU where being outed by a same-sex name is still newsworthy if you're in professional sports and is a very real concern for some NHL players. Despite the shifting attitudes, no one in the sport has ever come out publicly. Tyler has always felt relieved that 'Jamie' could be a male or female name, it makes hiding his sexuality a lot easier. Jamie's not been so lucky.

"baby, i want to touch you" 🔒 (E) by teamfreeawesome | 1,376 | So, maybe Tyler has a thing about Jamie's thighs.

"Taste Me" 🔒 (E) by teamfreeawesome | 2,005 | So, maybe Tyler has thing for a post-fight Jamie.

"swear it won't take you long" 🔒 (E) by ladyalysv | 9,823 | Tyler's pretty good at not thinking about stuff. Like, professionally.

"Next Level Bromanship" (E) by disarm_d | 7,974 | The thing that Jamie didn't realize was that even if he wasn't a guy, he still wouldn't be Tyler's type.

"but here's my number" (G) by ifonlynotnever | 1,711 | Tyler is drunk, and Jamie's number is just there.

"rearrange the alphabet" (T) by Aurum | 2,834 | Apparently Jamie's soulmate likes awful pick-up lines. It both is and isn't as bad as it sounds.

"off-ice situation" 🔒 (M) & "carving space" 🔒 (M) by anonymous | 18,767 | He waggles his eyebrows, grins and looks over at Jamie like do you want to tell them or should I? Jamie elbows him and everyone laughs, and neither one of them can stop smiling. Crisis averted.

"Once More With Feeling" 🔒 (E) by SpiritsFlame | 55,431 | Tyler is a romantic. He thinks that anyone who gets to the NHL has to be, to pin everything on an almost impossible dream. He won't admit it, but he'd been looking forward to his Loop, to meeting the person he's going to spend his life with, over and over. Looking forward to the endless days of getting to know them, the two of them trapped in a moment together. He didn't think he was going to be in it alone, on the tail end of a bad trade, with no soulmate in sight. He didn't think it would be like this.

"too fragile just to guess" (M) by SpiritsFlame | 14,672 | Jamie has done stupider things than agree to go be Tyler's date to the wedding. So what if they'd been sleeping together for two years. So what if they stopped a few months ago. So what if Jamie isn't over it, and probably never will be. He's done stupider things. Just not by much.

"caused a scene" 🔒 (E) by notthequiettype | 1,047 | There are two Halloween parties every year: the one where PR gets nice, family-friendly photos of cute kids and couples costumes and usually some dogs, and the one at Tyler's.

"my mouth is filled with honey" 🔒 (E) by notthequiettype | 2,345 | Tyler likes Jamie's body so much. Tyler likes Jamie, so much, too.

"I'm Awfully Fond Of You" (E) by SomebodyOwens | 3,993 | Step 1: Publish Nudes in ESPN. Step 2: ????? Step 3: PROFIT!

"Holding Patterns" (M) by suburbanmotel | 5,342 | “Being between one thing and another,” Tyler says again, the phone close against his ear and mouth now. “Well, that’s us, isn’t it. That’s us.”

••••••

This is an ongoing list.

[tradetobest]

dee's march 2024 fic recs!!

once again, i am late!! BUT ... its finals season so... also i guess i did less reading this month rip but,.... READ THESE

(FIC ROULETTE 1 2 3 4 5)

rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints by anonymous

pairing: jack eichel/connor mcdavid rating: E words: 32k summary: For all the draft hype and semi-annual questions about it, that’s all there ever was between him and Eichel. No friendship, no rivalry, just a one-minute maybe in a crowded hotel room on a team that was never as relevant as Connor wanted it to be. Even if Eichel had meant anything at all by it at the time, he’s surely forgotten about it by now. **** Jack Eichel is traded to the Pacific Division and Connor McDavid is being super normal about it

OUGHHHH..... id been subscribed to this fic SINCE august 2023 and WORTH THE FUCKING WAIT LET ME TELL U!!!! literally perfect mceichel. yes.... yes go over to his house with a flamingo..... yes "does he want me to show up..... idekk" and then the friend is like "yeah hes been fucking insane obsessed w you this whole time thank gawd yr here bro" OUGH..... theyre perfect to me

scar tissue by anonymous

pairing: tyler seguin/jamie benn rating: T words: 12k summary: Jamie still remembers when they were practically living out of each other’s pockets, the memory twinging like a muscle he hasn’t used in a long time but that his body hasn’t forgotten. It was probably inevitable that they’d see less of each other once Jamie formally requested that they no longer go into the field together but it still hits him sometimes. The tangible feeling of loss despite it having been his own decision in the end. Tyler didn’t speak to him for a month after he found out. 

SPIES!!! SPIES SPIES SPIES!!! you know i am ALWAYS down for a bennguin fic and OUGH this one was SO fun..... i LOVE "trying to protect you by letting you go" and then it SPIRALS. sooooo good. twirls hair.

Hello, You've Reached Mr. Handyman by crookedsilence

pairing: jack eichel/connor mcdavid rating: T words: 5k summary: His first thought is that this has to be a prank. Because, despite the distressed clothes and faded red toolbox, there is no way this guy is a legitimate handyman.

OUGH...... OUHHHH.... CONNOR MCDAVID YOU ARE SO .... TO ME..... cradles this fic's connor in my hands.... you do not know how to fix a cabinet...... idiots to lovers at its FINEST i love it so muhc

who can grow me by thekookster

pairing: brady tkachuck & matthew tkachuck rating: T words: 6k summary: But Brady had laughed like it was a joke, and then Brady’d said, no you’re not. C’mon, you’ve never been like that, and then Brady’d gotten upset and said but wouldn’t it be easier if— And then Brady hadn’t talked to him for five months. — After Matthew loses in the Stanley Cup Final, Brady takes him to a cabin for a weekend. They have a lot they’re not talking about.

READ THIS FIC. OHH MY GOD.... this one went DIRECTLY into my recs such a great exploration of family dynamics and like. If Coming Out Goes Badly. when i recced this to an irl they went "brady wouldnt say that" and i thought it was funny but this fic is so worth the He Wouldn't Fucking Say That.... OUGH...... WHO CAN GROW ME A NEW BROTHER................ what if i sobbed

See This Through by impertinence

pairing: sidney crosby/evgeni malkin rating: E words: 32k summary: Sidney's drunk when he orders a Russian bride. He doesn't expect anyone to show up - and he definitely doesn't expect that person to be an awkward-looking guy who barely speaks English.

MAIL ORDER BRIDE FIC......................... OUGHH...... op..... op you know exactly what i want in life fr.... please read this yall it slays

[starscelly]

I'm over here begging you. For the love of all that is holy, please talk to me about Tyler Seguin and the new dude, Mason Marchment !

anon i would LOVE to discuss tyler and mush !!!!! im very sorry this will probably be super long winded and incoherent. but u shouldve known what u signed up for with me tbh

FIRST i wanna say if ur looking for like. in depth analysis or many Moments of theirs i would very much recommend taking time to scroll through teex’s 2791 tag it is a joy and pretty thoroughly covers all of the stupidity from this season and i feel like they r like pioneering the 2791/smush insanity. that being said. allow me to talk my shit for a moment dkfsdjkfs.

i just think its Fascinating that in the past few years tyler has for sure like, turned down his usual vibe of constantly hamming it up for the camera and getting super flirty with all these guys etc etc. it is, i think, far less present these past few yrs than before. until mush got to this team lol. i feel like he’s really been brought back out of his shell (definitely also helped by the new coaching staff, his recovery from injuries, finding a new role on the team, their success etc, but) and we’re starting to see this silly tyler that we know and love again!!! the first thing i can really remember of them being particularly fun flirty and cringe together is the sandwich video (this is prolly wrong, but off the top of my head), but their chemistry has definitely been there all season. like even before we were exposed to this type of behavior, they’ve been on a line together All Season, even when they could not get a good third guy to fit on their line, deboer clearly knew there was something working between them. which like, we all saw the first few games of the season. obviously he’s correct lol. 

so they have good chemistry on the ice which is a super plus, and we’ve seen time and time again how close they are as people - mush being insane concerned about tyler’s injury, constantly saying they miss the other when they’re injured, the sandwich video, tyler “interviewing” mush with his drink, etc - and they just have a lot of casual affection for one another. but i have to say. my favorite thing is how stupid i feel for not realizing that they’d be an obvious pairing the second mush got traded here lmao. if you look at a long line of Tyler History he fits PERFECTLY. a feisty, huge, dark-haired left winger???? that is his MO, at this point (all 4 traits have applied to his like Closest or most notorious connections, but if u wanna take out “huge” we got marchy on the b’s, if u wanna talk ancient history we have tyler brown back when he was young young idk how feisty he was, but either way these are like. quintessential traits he loves). (this is a bit tyler heavy, on account of i just know more about him in general than mush, so sorry about that lol) but he very much just wants someone he can make fun of / laugh at, someone who would probably kill an opponent for him , and someone who is a huge cringe loser who will do anything to make him laugh. and mason for suuuuure checks off all those boxes and more. and if that is what we needed to bring back the silly, god bless mush, because he succeeded and Also made me adore HIM at the same time. despite all his mess and penalty minutes fjldsfklds

this is like. super long winded i am so sorry. but if there’s anything specific u wanna talk abt with these two cringefail losers Please feel free to message me or send another ask or whatever. i can’t even begin to unpack how deranged i feel abt them sometimes !!!

[eusuntgratie]

Okay updates on my hockey ~descent~

I've been reading a bit of bennguin and that was pretty good, I've been looking at some vids and I swear when Tyler got into a fight after someone took a cheap shot at Jamie 😭 like why do I care so much about that?? Anyway I have also just finished reading closed fracture by lightgetsin and it was so lovely <3 so looking for some more recs for sidgeno if you have them! (also why are there (((( all over the place sometimes? I've seen a few in fics and in tweets?) I do really like the Penguins logo and jerseys so maybe I'll follow them closer when things get moving a bit more, its the off season now right? Some other ships I'm a fan of is sterek from teen wolf, Sirius/Remus from hp, Macdennis from iasip, steve/bucky - just pretty basic ones lel 😬

oooooh i'm so excited to answer this okay okay. thank you for the update i love this!

tyler seguin is everyone's favorite slutty bisexual. go bananas in his tag (just #tyler seguin or #seguin) on tumblr and you'll find some great shit. that ship doesn't get as much attention anymore bc benn isn't fandom's favorite. i don't know enough about the stars to know all the reasons, but he did a very dirty and unneccessary hit on the vegas golden knights captain in the playoffs this year and that was enough to make me not like him. i can rec some stars blogs if you want - they are a great team with a solid fandom presence and a lot of young amazing players. and they have seggy :)

um, if you love boys being overprotective on the ice, i can definitely give you some pens moments but ALSO you should look into tknp (travis konecny/nolan patrick). i think i have a #protective tk tag on here you can browse bc the boy goes batshit insane anytime someone touches his boy. one of the big reasons a lot of us fell for that ship. you don't have to be a flyers fan to love them; tk is a fandom darling bc he's so tiny and fighty and wonderful.

also, any decent player is very protective of their goalie, so if you love that dynamic, you might enjoy some defenseman/goalie pairings or there's just some fun clips and gifs out there. i'll try to reblog some stuff for you. give my poor followers a break from the rwrb posting and tzp thirst 😂

DON'T GET ME STARTED ON SIDGENO OH GOD. okay i'll reblog a few posts for them because the things they say about each other are just. alright. you're in love. we get it. okay.

King and Lionheart is the fic that made me fall for sidgeno. There is an excellent podfic available as well.

I could give you a billion sidgeno recs and writers and blogs to follow. What kind of fic do you like? Fluff? Whump? PWP? Kink? ABO? Monsterfuckery? Sidgeno is the most popular hockey rpf ship at least by numbers on ao3; we got it all, baby! I read a lot of angst and porn, so I don't want to throw a bunch of recs at you without knowing what you like :)

((( and )))))))) are russian smileys... so you're probably reading Geno texting. So instead of texting (or tweeting - you can see these in some of his old tweets): i'll be there soon :) he would text i'll be there soon )))

we ARE in the offseason but hockey comes back (relatively) soon. preseason games (exhibition games that don't count towards playoff standings) start at the end of september and the season kicks off in October. The Penguins season opener is vs the Chicago Blackhawks which should be a VERY fun game to watch, bc Chicago drafted Connor Bedard this year, one of the best hockey prospects since Sid himself. Bedard is insanely talented and we are all very eager to see how he does in the NHL. Sid was Bedard's favorite player growing up (he is so many players' favorite player growing up) and they've met and they are both very sweet boys and anyway it will be an interesting game.

Stucky was my first ship since really diving into fandom and I spent a ton of time in Teen Wolf fandom! There's a ton of teen wolf on my ao3, mostly sterek, but i mostly write hockey these days.

feel free to keep sending me questions! there's a lot to learn when you first dive into hockey but i love the sport and love this fandom!!

[senditcolton]

AAAAH! Okay, I’m so obsessed with the vibes of the header alone! My OG hockey husband?! Plus the Sabrina Carpenter inspired title?! New Year’s fic!? I’M SO READY FOR THIS!! (reactions below)

Ah, yes the dread of relatives during the holidays, very relatable (and when you’re going through a divorce, double yikes!)

“You shed 75 pounds of jackass” already in love with these friends!

The sage cleansing!! Essential for after a breakup!

YES THE ERAS TOUR!! Have to have the Taylor Swift nods in here!

Honestly thank god you dumped him girl!! I would be right there with Nic and Katie and Nora!

The way she still has her cheating husbands credit card!?!? You fucking go girl!!!

“They’re laughing and shoving each other like overgrown frat boys” never have I ever heard a more accurate description of hockey players

It’s okay, my body would have the same reaction to ten-seconds of eye contact with Tyler Seguin

Listen… being pinned between the bar and Tyler freaking Seguin?! This is already one of the hottest things ever.

AAAANNND it just got hotter! Whew! My lord! In the secluded VIP section of the club (which I have absolutely no qualms about [if you’ve been here long enough, you know this])

Also, Tyler being a goofball even in the middle of sex… I will say it’s completely on brand.

Also, also, we’re all picturing the “Feather Sabrina Carpenter Heels” right? Because I am. And those are 100% staying on.

I… feel like there are worse ways to wake up. But hungover and newly married is definitely up there on the list.

“He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal – and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize the feral animal had to have been you” Relatable

The fact that Tyler is so casual about all of this has me giggling

“Any man that has his dogs as he phone screen can’t be a total sociopath” gotta mention the goodest boys!

The headshot! I would fall in love immediately because it is very truly ridiculously endearing

Tyler! It’s not a bad idea but wow, suggesting you stay married to the woman you just met – and married – last night and neither of you knew each others full names until this moment is certainly a Choice!

...but again, I hate to say that it feels very on brand.

Oh god, I can only imagine that flight home.

The progression! Learning about his job, learning about each other, a vacation to Mexico, some more ‘compatibility testing’, moving in together, meeting the family, I love it!!

And then the (second) proposal!!! And then the surprise ‘wedding’ on New Year’s Eve!!

THEIR BANTER IS JUST SO PERFECT!!! I ADORE THIS!!

“I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk married in Vegas” I’m sorry, why is this so stinking cute!?

I am in love with this! It was so hot and cute and adorable and ridiculously endearing, all at the same time!!! Drunk marriage in Vegas that turns into something real is such a cool concept and you executed it so well!!! And it had like, everything I love! New Year’s, nods to my two favorite blonde pop stars, and – of course – TYLER FREAKING SEGUIN. I can’t believe this is your first time writing for him, you captured that loveable goofball energy that I adore about him so perfectly!!! I would 100% not complain if you decide to write more for him. But overall, AAAAAAAAHHHH THANK YOU!!!

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

word count: 12.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

The ring finger.

The left ring finger.

…fuck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clark County Marriage License

“You okay?” Tyler asks, sounding concerned.

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

How drunk had you been?

Who the hell had let you get married?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paperwork?”

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

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

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

“No,” you chew at your lip, “it’s still a divorce. But, fuck, this is mortifying. A second fucking divorce before I’m even 28. Good fucking job with your life.” You mutter the last bit more to yourself than to Tyler, tears welling up in your eyes. That would be the last thing you need, to tell your family and friends about this whole debacle. Literally a week after your first divorce is finalized, you go out and get married again. Drunkenly. In Las Vegas!

Tyler’s eyebrow lifts and he doesn’t ask the question he so clearly wants to ask. You scrub a hand over your face, nausea returning but you’re not sure if it’s the hangover this time or the way he’s looking at you.

“What if,” he says slowly, studying you carefully for a reaction, “what if, we just…didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” You shift, the floor uncomfortable under your sore ass. The blanket wrapped around your body isn’t the softest and you’re starting to sweat a little despite the cold air pumping into the room. Tyler’s presence next to you is becoming distracting, the movement of his chest muscles, the rasp of his voice. Your body wants more of him.

“Didn’t get divorced…” he tilts his head at you, keeps looking you in the eye, even after your jaw drops and the blanket slips a little. “We could, I don’t know, just -“

“Stay married?” You finish for him, eyebrows up in your hairline. He nods, shrugs - why not? “Oh my god.”

Tyler’s phone vibrates on his thigh and he glances down at the alarm. It reminds you that you have no idea where your own phone is and you really, really need to talk to the girls. He jabs at the alarm again and looks apologetic. “I really do have to go,” he gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull you up. A spark shoots up your arm when his fingers clasp around yours. He doesn’t let go right away, his thumb rubbing against the backs of your fingers. “Think about it,” he looks at you more softly than you think he really should be in this moment. “You said you don’t do this kind of thing,” he continues, “but new year, new you?” The tiny smile he gives you sends your heartbeat into overdrive and this cannot be good for your health.

“Drunk married in Vegas would be a really new me,” you reply faintly. His hand finally falls away from yours and you’re mildly concerned to realize that you miss his touch. Your fingers flex at your side.

His smile doesn’t waver and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair off your cheek, fingertips lingering on your skin. “I’ll be back in Dallas in two weeks. Think about it, I’ll take you to dinner and we can just…go from there.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Strangely enough, you do feel calmer than you had a few moments ago, Tyler’s steady calm rubbing off on you.

“Okay,” you nod, repeating yourself. “Okay. I’ll…two weeks.”

Tyler grins a little wickedly. “At least we know we’re good together in bed,” he teases, kicking at a condom wrapper with his bare foot.

A laugh startles out of your chest and you find yourself nodding in agreement. “I, ah, definitely agree with that,” you murmur, your entire face flaming with heat.

——

One Year Later - New Year’s Eve. Dallas. TX

Tyler greets you at the door, suited up and bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin,” he grins at you.

“Mr. Seguin,” you laugh back, leaning in to loop your arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, nipping at his lower lip. When you pull back, you’re breathless. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

His hands roam up and down your back, catching in the fabric of your sparkly white minidress, sliding up under the hem to knead at the flesh of your ass. He grins wickedly when his hands don’t find any fabric covering your ass. You smirk at him and wink, giggling when he pinches a cheek.

You lean into his touch with a contented purr. If it wouldn’t make you late for your own party, you’d pull him inside the house for a quickie. You’d already had sex this morning - a wedding present, according to Tyler when he’d given you back to back, mind numbing orgasms with his tongue and dick before you’d returned the favor with a blowjob that had rendered him speechless for twenty minutes - but you would never get enough of being in Tyler’s arms.

“Does it count as bad luck if none of the guests know they’re coming to a wedding?” He asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Or a vow renewal, technically.”

The last twelve months have been a little insane and honestly, looking back, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

After getting dressed quickly, Tyler had found your phone wedged in the cushions of the hotel room’s armchair. The battery was nearly drained but your screen was lit up with more than a hundred texts in the group chat with the girls and nearly as many missed calls. When you had finally called back, all three had shrieked that they were twenty minutes away from reporting you missing. You’d kept the little surprise of legally binding matrimony to yourself, but had admitted to the girls that you’d spent the night with Tyler and that he lived in Dallas and that you were going to see where it went. The flight home was full of whispered shrieking and more questions than you had honestly had answers for at the time. The gaudy engagement ring was buried in the bottom of your toiletry case, acting like the tell-tale heart, blood rushing in your head every time you thought about it.

When you got home, you’d shoved the ring in your jewelry box, determined not to think about it, but found yourself absently running the pad of your thumb over the underside of your ring finger when you let your mind wander to Tyler.

After Tyler had returned to Dallas from his two week road trip - during which you’d basically internet stalked him and spiralled out quietly about not filling for a divorce right away - you’d finally decided to give it, give Tyler a chance. He’d texted nearly every day he was gone, sending stupid jokes or a picture of something he thought would amuse you. Worst case scenario, you filed for divorce and went through the process all over again. By the time Tyler took you out for dinner at a quiet dive-y taco place in Fort Worth where you could actually hear each other, both of your memories of the wedding night had returned, although yours were coloured in a hazy film that made the whole thing seem like a fever dream.

The little ceremony had been officiated by an Elvis impersonator, another Vegas cliché, a fact that you’d learned when Tyler had found another Polaroid in his wallet when he was on the plane to San Jose. You’d cracked up when he finally showed it to you in person - Elvis in the middle, clearly past his prime, with you and Tyler on either side of him doing your best air guitar? Maybe?

“I think I’m trying to do an Elvis hip swivel,” Tyler had laughed.

“Whatever it is, it looks like we’re both mid-seizure,” you’d nearly snorted your drink out of your nose. Looking at the photographs was fun now, a little warmth building in the pit of your stomach, not the tight, nauseous coil of anxiety that you’d experienced when you had first seen them.

Other wedding details were still a little hazy, like where you had picked up the rings or what exactly the ceremony had consisted of, beyond being declared man and wife and being told to kiss and cement your “burning love.”

(What you remembered and what Tyler made sure you didn’t forget was just how good you were in bed together. The four condom wrappers on the floor were not an anomaly with Tyler.)

He’d gotten you tickets for games, right up against the glass so he could skate by you during warmups and tap his glove against the glass to capture your attention. After a few games, once you’d decided to really commit to the relationship and were official within your friendship circles, he picked up the habit of blowing you a kiss, grinning when you’d blush.

He’s really good at his job and you’re only a little surprised to find that you actually love watching him play. It’s horrific watching him get hit or tossed into the boards, but when he scores a goal and celebrates in a big hug with his teammates you’re always the first one on your feet, screaming your head off.

You’d brought the girls to a game early on in your relationship and all three of them had been surprised at how comfortable you were in the arena and how quickly you’d picked up the rules of the game. It was hard to explain that you weren’t just trying to make a regular relationship work, but a whole marriage. The stakes were just a little bit higher than usual.

The league had a break for the All-Star Weekend in early February and Tyler had surprised you with a trip to Mexico, where you’d soaked up the sun and gotten to know each other better, giving him all the sordid details about your divorce and sharing stories from your childhoods over icy margaritas and more tacos than your body knew what to do with. He’d told you about his early career, his misbehavior in Boston and how much he loved being in Dallas. The long weekend was slow and lazy, leaving so much time for the two of you to really talk and get to know each other. The experimental sex in a hammock on the beach was the icing on the cake.

After that, it was like a switch flipped and all you wanted to do was be with him. Truthfully, you sometimes forgot that you were thrown into the relationship with a marriage and settled comfortably into dating Tyler, folding each other into your lives, moving in with him, telling him you love him and hearing him say it back, cheering him on when Dallas made it all the way to the Western Conference Finals before being bounced in seven games by, of all teams, the Vegas Golden Knights.

Summer break meant a road trip to Whitby to meet Tyler’s family. A drive that should’ve been two or three days took nearly a week because you kept making random stops to see the silliest monuments advertised on the highways. You’d nearly killed him driving through Illinois, convinced this was the end of the relationship and you’d have to pull the trigger on the divorce, and then he had surprised you by stopping at a corn maze and getting lost in it with you almost immediately. Your stomach had hurt from laughing with him and making out like teenagers.

The trip to his hometown had been beyond fun, getting Tyler to show you his childhood haunts and seeing all the baby pictures of him with his mom telling you stories too.

On the drive back to Dallas, halfway through Oklahoma and in the middle of the night, while you’re pulled over on the side of the road to look at the stars, Tyler asked you to marry him. Again.

This time you had the moment committed to memory, the way Tyler’s hands had been shaking slightly with the black velvet box popped open in his fingers. The way Tyler’s speech rambled, like he hadn’t prepared anything or had forgotten his words just as he started talking, explaining how your relationship had started in an unconventional manner, but he couldn’t picture his life without you now. The way you’d started crying almost the second he had turned to you on the hood of the car with that gorgeous ring glinting at you in the moonlight and how you hadn’t stopped until he’d slid the ring home on your finger and kissed you like he’d never kissed you before.

Over the months, the wedding plan shifts and changes, from a summer wedding so you can have a real ceremony and party, the whole nine yards, to what it actually ends up becoming - a quiet inside joke with the two of you in order to keep your anniversary date, a New Year’s Eve party for your closest family and friends to be surprised at midnight when you and Tyler recite your vows.

It’s much easier to plan a party in six months than it would’ve been to plan a wedding.

Jamie Benn, Tyler’s best friend and the dark haired man in Vegas you had initially thought was just you seeing double, is tapped as the officiant, getting ordained online and getting really into his role, not knowing it’s basically all just a front. He just loves that he’s the only one in on the secret, constantly wearing a shit eating grin any time any of your other friends discuss wedding plans for a summer wedding that’s not going to happen.

“I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces,” you admit, hooking your hand in the crook of Tyler’s elbow and letting him lead you out to the car. He does a double take when he notices your hand.

“What’s that?” He taps on the ring nestled on your ring finger. Your original wedding ring from a year ago had been replaced with a real diamond, still an oval, but smaller and more tasteful. But that’s not what you’re wearing right now.

Your lips twist up in a sly smile. The huge, gaudy cubic zirconia is back on your finger, your second engagement ring tucked safely in its box in your drawer. “It didn’t feel right to get married without it,” you admit, flexing your fingers against his arm so the fake gem will sparkle.

Tyler’s laugh is contagious. “Everyone’s going to ask about it,” he warns you.

“Let them,” you shrug. “I want to wear my original ring on my anniversary.”

Hours later, when the surprise has been pulled off and Jamie announces that Tyler may kiss his bride, you fall into your husband’s arms, kissing him with all that you’ve got.

Fireworks go off outside the venue, the countdown to midnight at less than a minute.

“Happy anniversary, wife,” Tyler grins against your lips, quiet enough that only you can hear him.

Around you, the countdown continues, seconds ticking away until it’s January first.

“Happy New Year, husband,” you whisper back, laughing when he dips you back dramatically.

The party continues well into the early hours of January first, you and Tyler having had the foresight to rent out the venue for twice as long as a normal party. You spend the night flitting between dancing with your friends and cuddling up against Tyler’s side, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your cheek is pressed against Tyler’s side, the wrinkled fabric of his button down soft under your skin. Your fingers play with the buttons, slipping them from their holes one by one until his shirt is more unbuttoned than not.

Tyler smirks down at you, his hand rubbing an arc over your hip, rucking up the fabric with each upward stroke of his hand, exposing your thigh inch my inch. “Undressing me already, wife? Can’t wait for the wedding night?” He winks at you and you laugh into his chest.

“I think that ship has sailed,” you murmur, sliding your hand under the unbuttoned shirt and over the smooth skin of his stomach, ridged muscles dancing under your touch. You yawn a little, the weird combination of overtired and wide awake making your brain buzz.

Tyler holds you close and leans down a little to whisper in your ear, “want your anniversary gift?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “I thought I already got my gift this morning?”

“That was a wedding gift,” Tyler teases. “This is an anniversary gift, and no, it’s not in my pants.”

You giggle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “Shame, I like what’s in your pants.”

“I’ll give you that later,” he promises, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, I stashed it in the coat closet.”

He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you off, getting stopped every few feet by someone else who wants to gush about what a great surprise the party was. “Just couldn’t wait another minute to marry her,” Tyler grins in response every time, making you laugh at his side, the inside secret of your Vegas marriage a warm fizz in your chest.

When you finally escape off to the coat closet, you try to loop your arms around Tyler’s neck and lift up on your toes to kiss him. He obliges you happily, cupping the back of your head and giving you a searing kiss before pulling away. You whine, “I thought we were sneaking off for a wedding night quickie?”

“I literally told you that your gift wasn’t in my pants,” Tyler laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would you think I wasn’t being serious?”

Your hands find their way underneath his shirt again, fingertips digging into the muscles of his back, and drawing yourself closer to him. “Because I wanted you to be kidding,” you reply. “A little coat closet quickie would be a fun way to start the year.”

“And normally, I’d agree, baby. But I think you’re gonna like this gift,” he leans forward and reaches behind you, giving you the opportunity to press your nose against his collarbone. When he pulls back, he has a fairly large, flat wrapped package in his hand.

“What’s that?” You ask, taking the gift from Tyler as he leans back a little, shoulders resting against the wall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The package is lighter than you thought it would be.

He nudges your foot with his, “open it.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you chew at your lower lip. Neither of you had really discussed the fact that it’s your anniversary or gift giving and now you’re a little embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. You sway a little on your feet, fingers ripping a little at the corners of the paper until it crumples under your touch and the corner of the gift pokes through.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t care. It’s kind of something for both of us anyway,” he says and you wait for the little joke, the tease that you can let him unwrap you later, but it never comes and that’s how you know your husband is about to make you cry with whatever this gift is.

You can feel Tyler watching you as you pull back the paper - leftover Christmas wrapping that’s so clearly been wrapped by a man, too much tape and messy folds. God, you love him - and expose a frame. It takes you a second to process what’s behind the glass, but when you do, you hiccup a little gasp and tears well at your lash line.

Behind the glass is your marriage license with last year’s date and your pair of wobbly signatures. The Polaroids you’d taken that night surround the license and you trace trembling fingertips over the image of you kissing Tyler on the cheek.

“Tyler…” your voice cracks on his name and he gives you a soft little smile.

“This year his been batshit insane, baby,” he leans into your personal space and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “But I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married.”

Tears are sliding down your cheeks and you nod, “I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married, too.”

His laugh is muffled by all the coats surrounding you, but it’s warm and it feels like home. He pulls you into a hug, the frame smushed between your bodies and digging into your stomach, but you don’t care. Tyler’s hand curls around the back of your neck and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your wrist, black mascara smudges streaking across your skin. You giggle a little wetly, “I’m such a mess, oh my god.”

“Everyone will just think you dragged me off so you could have your wicked way with me,” Tyler teases, smirking at you.

“Coat closet quickie for the newlyweds,” you reply, grinning. You settle the frame on the floor, the back of it leaning against your leg, and really wrap your arms around Tyler’s neck, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. The spice of his cologne invades your nostrils and you press your nose harder against his throat, enveloped in his warmth.

Tyler rests his chin on the top of your head and hums, rolling his hips against yours lazily so you can feel the bulge behind his fly. “I could give you a real quick one, just to make sure you don’t have to lie,” he ducks his head to whisper in your ear, kissing at the hinge of your jaw. His hand slides down to graze your ass and you’re nearly ready to say yes, suddenly desperate for him, when a loud bang on the door has you jumping back, heart pounding from the shock, nearly cracking Tyler’s chin with your head. The frame bounces off your leg with your movement, falling to the floor with a little clatter that you hope isn’t broken glass.

“Fuck!” He yelps and you clap your hands over your heart, gasping. “Jesus, who is it?”

Jamie’s voice is choked with laughter as it comes through the door. There’s a slight slur to his words too, as he shouts, “stop fucking on everyone’s coats, we’re doing body shots.”

Your jaw drops open and Tyler rolls his eyes at the interruption. He bangs on the door with a hand and shouts back, “fuck off! I’m trying to spend some time with my wife.”

“Actually,” you say slowly, a little smirk forming on your face, “body shots could be fun…”

“Yeah?” Tyler lifts an eyebrow at you, palm flat on the door.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a wicked grin, “you know I like the way champagne tastes on your skin.”

Tyler’s eyes shut like he’s in pain and your gaze slides down to see the bulge in his pants grow. “You’re a fucking menace and I’m so fucking glad you’re my wife,” he mutters, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you out of the coat closet, nearly knocking Jamie over in his hurry, your shrieked giggles drowned out by the music from the party.

The next morning, afternoon really by the time you finally open your eyes, you wake up with half of your body draped over Tyler’s completely naked one. His hip and thigh is securely wedged between your legs, his morning wood hot against the outside of your thigh. One of your arms is in the sleeve of Tyler’s button down, the rest of the fabric draped over your back like a blanket. The hangover pounds at your temples and the sunlight blinds you and it’s such a deja vu moment you almost think you’re back in Vegas, right until the moment Tyler’s hand twitches against your lower back and he rubs his bearded chin against the top of your head. You melt against him, sighing happily.

“Anniversary party slash vow renewal every New Year’s Eve?” Tyler rasps against your hair, sliding his hand up your spine.

You hum into his skin, “as long as you get me electrolytes and a greasy breakfast on January first, I’m in.”

“How about a headache relieving orgasm first?” Tyler rolls you gently onto your back, already kissing a path down your body. You shiver with each brush of his lips and your legs fall open for him to slot himself between them. He rests his chin on your hip bone and looks up at you with a soft look in his eyes that doesn’t match the hungry smirk that curves his lips.

“What?” You ask, angling your neck to look at him, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. There’s a little streak of glitter against his temple and you brush your thumb over it, wiping the smudge away.

He shakes his head a little. “Just thinking about this past year,” he lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “How fun it’s been, how glad I am that we did the surprise last night.”

“Getting soft on me, Seguin?” you tease, poking at his side with your foot. He wiggles away a little from your touch, ticklish even though he won’t admit it.

“You know I’m anything but soft for you,” he laughs, nipping at your skin. “Let me prove it.” He presses a kiss against your hip bone and then lower and then there’s no more thoughts, just you and Tyler and the rest of forever stretching out in front of you.

[dougiejack]

you should go write 3 new sentences for your bandom au. i am intrigued

Probably not! Definitely not right now because I’m at work but I doubt I will be suddenly inspired by the time I get home either.

I can tell you a little more about it though?

Basically the band is Sid (bass but he also writes all the lyrics. Like a less sketchy Pete wentz), Dougie (the frontman), Tyler Seguin (guitar, general sluttery), and Flower on drums. Sid has always dreamed of being a drummer. And they are called The GoalKeepers

Mitch is a fan, Jack has never heard of them but doesn’t say no to free stuff so he agrees to go to the concert with Mitch.

The entire AU stems from this one time in 2008 when my friends and I made fun of the plain white t’s in the crowd during their set and they noticed us doing it. So basically that happens.

Then after the show they’re all at a bar and the meet up and Tyler is like “I saw you. I know you were making fun of us.” but like he very much thought it was funny and… shenanigans happen. Idk that’s where I lost it.

The reason I lost it is because we couldn’t decide what Mitch and Jack did that allowed them as much free time and money as they would need to be groupies 😂 so we had to invent a job for them and then we gave them a boss and suddenly the whole story was about Kyle Dubas and his sustainably sourced and body safe sex toys which is so far from my area of expertise that I lost my train of thought and never picked it back up.

Apologies to anyone who might have wanted to read this and to @gottakickitupanotch who deserved a better co-writer

[laurenairay]

Flirt - T. Seguin

Prompt: “You think I’m a flirt but that’s only because I flirt with you”

Tagging: @texanstarslove​ @romanseggy​ @bestestbenn​ @thebookofmags​ @danglesnipecelly​ @denis-scorianov​ @chicagoblackhawkslover96​

A/N: this is the first of my Valentine’s Day prompt blurbs, so I hope you all enjoy it! Just a bit of fun 😘 if anyone wants to be tagged in the others on my list, let me know!

*

“I’ve got a delivery for you,”

You looked up from your drink, confusion turning to a fond smile at the sight of Tyler Seguin standing by the kitchen island, one arm behind his back. Becoming friends with some of the Dallas Stars had its perks, including plenty of summer barbecues, casual drinks, wine nights, and big takeout nights like the gathering you were at today…and the attention of a certain star hockey player.

Well, you knew damn well that Tyler flirted with you just as much as he flirted with every other woman in his life, but it was nice to be the receiver of all of that intensity. Flirty words, a hand on your back at the bar, dancing in a crowd, making you laugh with stories, lots of compliments whenever you saw him…the list went on. Sure, you loved it. But you knew it wasn’t real. It was just Tyler being Tyler.

“Hmm maybe stick to the day job,” you teased, although you turned your body to face him anyway, as the other people in the room left.

You knew you’d be quizzed about this later from the women you were talking with, but for right now, you didn’t care. You’d barely seen him today, so you were going to savour this while it lasted.

“So you don’t want the gift I bought you?” Tyler asked with a grin.

“Well I didn’t say that…”

Tyler smirked, walking closer towards you, until he swung his arm out from behind him, dramatically presenting you with a box. Oh wow. These were expensive chocolates. You knew that Pavs bought them for his wife on their anniversary from a little luxury shop downtown, because she’d gushed about them at one of the last get-togethers. Wow.

“Thank you, Tyler. I don’t even know what to say,” you said, eyes wide.

Tyler’s smirk softened into a beaming smile, making your heart skip a beat. This…this wasn’t normal. He didn’t usually do this, the gift buying. This was different. Why? Why now?

“Why, Tyler?” you asked, biting your bottom lip.

“It’s nearly Valentine’s Day, and I thought I’d get you something just as sweet as you are,” he said innocently.

And there it was.

“Alright you big flirt, simmer down,” you mused, rolling your eyes.

You ignored the tiny part of you that hoped it wasn’t just Tyler being his usual self.

But as you took another sip of your drink, Tyler stayed silent, making you frown. What? Was it something you said?

“What’s wrong?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Tyler cleared his throat as he ran his hand through his hair, before he seemed to steel himself with a deep breath.

“I know you think I’m a flirt but that’s only because I flirt with you,”

Your jaw dropped slightly at Tyler’s soft words, and Tyler just huffed out a laugh.

“I mean it,” Tyler shrugged, “yeah, I’m charming, and I smile and wink and flatter people…but honest-to-god flirting? No, no-one else,”

His self-deprecating smile made you swallow heavily and look down away from him briefly, before looking back up at his face. His face, which had shifted into an expression that was much more nervous.

“I just…”

Tyler trailed off before he sighed.

“I can stop. If it makes you uncomfortable,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You opened and closed your mouth, words failing. Because you honestly didn’t know what to say.

Did he make you uncomfortable? Absolutely not.

But that was because you didn’t think he was ever serious – you thought it was all a joke, just a part of Tyler’s nature. So for him to be seriously flirting? You didn’t even know where to start with that.

“Should I take your silence as a sign to leave?” Tyler said, trying to make things light with a laugh but it just came out strained.

“No,”

Your sharp words surprised you, and you felt your cheeks heat up with warmth at the pleased smile that spread across his lips.

“No?” he repeated, eyes sparkling.

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. “No. You shouldn’t leave,”

Tyler’s smile slipped into a smirk, and he took another step closer towards you, making your heartbeat start to race.

You may never have genuinely considered Tyler’s flirting before, but now? Now you couldn’t think of anything else.

“So,” he started, stopped when he was only a foot away from you, “Now you know that I’m serious with my flirting, and now that you don’t want me to stop…does this mean I can finally take you out for a drink some time?”

Oh wow.

Tyler wants to take you out for a drink? As a date?

Tyler?

The very thought of it made your breath catch in your throat, and you knew exactly what your answer would be.

“I suppose that would be okay,” you shrugged, unable to stop the grin that spread across your lips.

“Oh now who’s flirting,” Tyler grinned back.

[emberphantom]

It's currently 1:16am. I just got a pair of rollerblades and the urge....to put them on and....skate.... around my tiny apartment...is so strong.....

[frasermints]

i mean... i'll definitely argue that last point. it was incredibly common place 8+ years ago for writers to say "if this has your name in it turn back now" in the author's note of their works. even now you'll find it, but mostly among authors that have been writing for a while or people that have been in fan spaces long enough to Remember™

acknowledgement of what we say and do, of the accessibility of it... that was very commonplace in early internet fanspaces. that's why fandom elders advise us to lock our accounts. that's why the numbers between guest and member fics on ao3 are so different.

more applicably... tyler seguin tweeting out a livejournal link and @ ing his team member involved also argues against that i think. it is very much at the forefront of many people's minds that fan spaces are not safe, and that what we say and do here and on twitter/instagram/reddit/facebook/archive/livejournal is all easily discovered.

i also wouldn't necessarily call that the fourth wall. the fourth wall is "do not show this to the subjects in real life, do not send them links in dms, do not ask them about shipping." because... that's what 2010-2016 was. it was people asking RPF subjects about these topics. it was people asking supernatural cast members about wincest and j2 and asking jacksgap if they'd ever been on wattpad. in the modern internet era it's the kraken pr nightmare, but... the fourth wall is something we maintain out of self respect and, if you're self aware enough, out of respect for the people involved.

i don't necessarily think you're wrong though. tumblr isn't as niche of a platform as users like to pretend it is and i think a lot of us have deluded ourselves into thinking we're unique for being here

especially since... a lot of these guys are nerds. it wouldn't shock me.

thank god nhlers don't have tumblr accounts

[huggybug]

Okay!! Can I request either number 2, 6, or 64 for seguin? 💚 thank you!

happy dilf day!

02. “You’re definitely your mother/father’s child”

“Where’s your backpack?” You ask your son who was, once again, running late for school.

“I don’t know” He shrugged and you groaned as you continued searching the house. It was honestly a shock at how often this seemed to happen.

“How do you just lose your bag baby?”

“What’s going on?” Tyler asked, walking down the stairs.

“I lost my pack pack” Your son giggled and you huffed as you stopped your search to look at your husband who didn’t seem too bothered at the fact that your son was extremely late for school.

“Isn’t it up in your room? Go check” Tyler sent him upstairs and you walked over to him with your arms crossed.

“He gets it from you, y’know?” You say and Tyler’s jaw drops in disbelief.

“No he does not!”

“You lose your phone and keys like every day” You raise an eyebrow and he thinks about it for a minute before grinning.

“I always find them though!”

“Mhm they’re always exactly where you left them”

“I found it Mama! It was in my room because I was takin’ my books out yesterday” You look to Tyler with a smirk, your son proving your point for you.

“You’re definitely your father’s child” You say as you chase him out the door and into the car, hoping to make it to the school on record time.

[hockey-x-imagines]

Made to Last || Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn Pt. 22

A/N: I'm thinking there's going to be just 1 or 2 more parts to this story unless y'all want more. I definitely cried writing this.  

Song Inspo: Made to Last by Issues & You're Not Sorry Taylor Swift

Paring: Tyler x Reader Jamie x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, angst

Word Count: 1216

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

Y/N's P.O.V.

Last night you cried yourself to sleep, mourning the relationship you and Tyler once had. You came to a conclusion, whether you and Jamie work out or not, you still have to have this conversation with Tyler. Just the thought of what you're about to tell the man you used to think you were going to spend the rest of your life with guts you. Part of you wishes you could be a chicken shit and do this over the phone. As you wait for the door to open you try to collect your thoughts.

"Y/N now's not really a good time." Tyler's greeting is laced with annoyance. Not exactly the greeting you were hoping for. Though you can't really say you're surprised.

"Tell Nessa to put some clothes on, or tell her to wait. We need to have this conversation, and we need to have it now. I also need to get the rest of my things." Maybe this conversation will be easier than you thought. Rolling his eyes, Tyler steps to the side inviting you in.

"So this is it?" He asks.

"Tyler, I've wasted all this time waiting and hoping you'd come around. I've been giving out chances and every time all you do is let me down. And it's taken me this long to figure it out. You're thinking we'll be fine, because every time you fuck up I come running back, but not this time around. Could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold. You had me crawling for your love, and it never would've gone away. You used to shine so bright, but I watched all of it fade You can tell me you're sorry, but I don't believe you like I did before.  I don't want to hurt anymore. It's not just me I have to look out for anymore. Part of me was hoping we'd work out for our child, but you accusing me of cheating, and you running back to the arms of Nessa the second something seemed off between us is the last straw. So you don't have to worry about the 2 of us anymore. I'm done, we're done. The baby and I deserve so much better and more than you could ever give." You were proud of yourself, not a single tear was shed.

"I'm sorry." That's all he had to say. After 2 and a half years, all he had to say was he was sorry.  You had hoped that maybe he would've shown that he still cared, but he didn't.

"You're not, but that's okay. I'm really sorry. I'll grab my things and be out of your hair." You reach in your back pocket and grab the ring he gave you, "give this to someone you really want forever with, not because you feel guilty." With that, you go collect your things.

"What are you doing here?" Nessa hisses. Lovely.

"Don't worry you dumb bitch I'm just here to get my shit and go." You can't see what Tyler sees in her, maybe she's got a pussy of gold. That's the only thing that would be appealing about her.

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

Tyler's P.O.V.

"Y/N, before you go I feel like I need to give my side." Right now seemed like the best time to come clean. She's already leaving me, not that I blame her.

"It's not going to change anything Ty, I've made my mind up, and seeing Nessa here just cemented my choice."

"What I have to say is only going to make things worse." I take a deep breath, " I can't tell you why or when but I lost feelings for you, and around that time I started seeing Nessa again. I know it was wrong, but I just didn't see a way out. I figured if I was a big enough dick eventually you would've left me like you're doing now. I really am sorry I thought hurting you was the best option. That being said, you can drop the whole pregnancy facade." The look on Y/N's face tells me I struck a nerve.

"You're a fucking idiot." Is all she had to say before slamming my door in my face. We hadn't been having a lot of sex in the first place with her being stabbed and all, so there was no way she is pregnant with my child. There was a small voice in the back of my head telling me she wouldn't lie about something like that, but I refused to believe her. If I believed her, that makes me an even bigger asshole than I intended to be.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. Maybe Y/N forgot something? She's about the only person I could think of that would knock. To my surprise it's Jamie.

"Why the hell are you knocking?" I ask.

"We need to have a little chat." Something is off in his tone. My gut tells me whatever he's about to say isn't going to be something I like. Stepping to the side I let him in. "I've done a lot of thinking and I feel it's best that I tell you how I'm feeling." What the hell is he talking about?

"Okay? If you're about to tell me what a shitty person I am, Y/N did a pretty good job of that already, and sadly I don't give a shit." There is a small part of me that does feel bad for the shit I've done, but I don't really care.

"I'm glad she did. Tyler you fucked up, bad. But I'm not here to yell at you. I've already told Y/N, but I feel like you deserve to know that I'm in love with her." What. The. Fuck. "I don't know why or when but I'm in love with her. Like I said I already told her, and if she decided to have me, I'm going to treat her right."

"How long have you 2 been fucking?" Logically I know Jamie wouldn't do that to me, but right now I'm not thinking logically. Of all the people I could see Y/N moving on with, I never would've thought it'd be my best friend. I thought she'd leave Texas and I'd never see her again. That's what made this so easy. Seeing her happy and thriving is something I don't know if I can handle.

"You're a fucking idiot. You know better than that. She was or is madly in love with you, she would've never done you dirty the way you've done her dirty. I was happy to sit back and let you two be happy, but you went a fucked up again. So now if she'll let me, I'm going to step up to the plate and treat her the way you should've from the start."

"So you're just going to throw away our friendship over a little bit of pus-," before I could finish my sentence his fist connected with my jaw.

"You are the only person to blame for our friendship being what it is now. And don't you ever talk about Y/N that way. We both know she's more than that." I haven't seen Jamie this pissed since the morning Y/N left the first time.