#ross colton smut

[leafs-lover]

Who should I write about? Central Battle

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

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

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

Pacific Poll // Metro Poll // Atlantic Poll

Quick fic summary:

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

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

Not a friends to lover trope

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

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

Don’t forget to reblog!

[cellythefloshie]

;; Tainted Love 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: The stars seem to align for the first time when you and Ross Colton meet up for drinks while the Colorado Avalanche are in town. But it's a dangerous game you're playing because the spark is still there and is hard to ignore even with the both of you being spoken for. Kinks & Tropes: CHEATING (putting this in all caps because I want to make sure it's clear. It is a very prominent theme in this fic), alcohol consumption, car sex, unprotected sex, no forms of contraception used, pull-out method, dirty talk Word Count: 4.5k+

I've got to get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me.

The cold, caught somewhere between a fall and winter wind, reddened your cheeks more than blush ever could. It stung as you walked through the quiet streets; you head down and the collar of your jacket popped in a desperate attempt to stay home. It was late, the only life seen in the bars and restaurants on either side of you as you passed. The streets were empty, the bustle of traffic long forgotten. The only vehicle was a single cab picking up patrons or dropping them off. There were still four hours until closing time. 

This, usually, was late enough for you to crawl into bed. You'd throw on a Netflix show, or listen to an audio book until you fell asleep. But you made plans. With your boyfriend out of town, you shouldn't have, but you did. 

You felt like you had to, because this might have been the only opportunity you had to see Ross. 

In town for one night only, and with his curfew broadened just because they had granted him more time to spend with his family, you couldn't say no. You never had said no to him either. The two of you shared a connection like you couldn't describe. Ever since you had first met on a dating app after one casual swipe in the right direction, you had clicked.

And even after the first date didn't work out, the encounter lasted no more than 5 minutes. You still kept in touch. You would get the occasional check in text. But beyond that, the two of you had gone your separate ways. 

You had your boyfriend, and months later he had his girl. And your respective relationships remained unbroken, fully committed. But in time, even after months of not speaking to one another, you always ended up in each other's messages. Just to catch up, nothing more, always innocent - or at least, that was what you told yourselves. 

And that's what meeting up in a bar you'd never been to would be. Just catching up over a drink. Nothing more. 

That was what you told yourself when you stopped at the front door, her head tipping back to look up at the dimly lit sign. Your body quivered with a shaky breath. 

Nerves? No. Ross never made you nervous. 

You knew what you were feeling, but you couldn't admit it to yourself. It was wrong. Yet, you did it anyway. 

You were greeted with a gust of warmth, a smile spreading over your face as you entered the busy bar. Bodies crowded around the bar top, music blared, and each television was broadcasting one sports event or another. 

Finding a table near the back, the broadcast talking about tomorrow's Devil's game was a welcome distraction. You watched it as you draped your jacket over the back of your chair, and as you glanced over the menu, you had pulled up on your phone with the help of the QR code stuck on the tabletop. It was a distraction more than anything. You almost always ordered the same drink, no matter where you went. You just wanted to look busy until Ross arrived. 

He announced his arrival discretely to not draw the attention of the surrounding people. He did it simply by speaking your name as his hand caressed over the small of your back in a featherlight touch. 

Your smile was too wide as you answered him, “Ross.”

Without thought, you stood up from your seat and threw your arms around him in a brief embrace. And he returned it, the strength of his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. And for a moment, the two of you just stood there - just long enough to enjoy his embrace, but not long enough for it to be awkward. Then, your limbs fell away from him so naturally as you perched yourself back up on your chair. 

From there, you admired him as he rounded the table to sit across from you. Ross was over dressed in every sense of the word. He wore a white button down, your eyes drawn to the black buttons that trailed down his chest, and he shrugged off his sports coat, the color one you couldn't quite make out under the dim multi-color lights of what you deemed a dive bar. 

He draped the coat over the back of his chair, and his eyes that were bright with his smile found you. 

“I'm a bit over dressed, huh?” His question laced with a chuckle as he sat. 

You nodded. “Just a bit.” 

“Just came from dinner with the family,” he explained, as if you needed one. You weren't going to complain. He looked good in a suit. There were worse things you could get stuck looking at. 

“How was it? They must have been excited to see you.” 

And that was how the conversation began. So effortlessly, so naturally, as you moved from one topic to the next. His family, yours, how he had settled into Colorado, his girlfriend, your boyfriend. You talked about it all over a drink that quickly led to two. 

Once you finished sucking back nothing more than melted ice cubes from the bottom of your glass, you were cursing yourself for being such a lightweight. You could feel the buzz of alcohol coursing through you. The jitters in your hands, and the racing of your heart in your chest. One drink more and your brain would have fogged, but there wouldn't be another. 

It was late, and Ross was already asking for the bill. 

He paid it in full. 

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that,” you said as you stood up from your seat. Thankfully, you didn't waver on your feet. 

“You can cover it next time,” he said in such a way you believed him. 

But you knew there wouldn't be a next time. He would be flying back to Colorado after the game, and he had a girlfriend. You had a boyfriend. It couldn't happen again. It shouldn't. 

Together, you shrugged on your coats in the first awkward silence of the evening. Was this where you should say goodbye? Should you let him go on ahead and order yourself some water?

“Let me walk you to your car?” Ross’ voice cut through the silence. He had made up your mind for you. 

You nodded. “Yeah, sure. That'd be great.”

Keeping your head down, you left the bar together. Ross’ frame leading the way through the crowd that was now dwindling. It would be closing time soon. 

Stepping out into the cold air, you took in a sharp exhale. Its harshness almost left you light headed - or maybe that was the alcohol. 

You should have drunk some water. 

“I'm parked just up this way,” you told him and began the walk along the sidewalk with a casual stride. 

You walked together, your arms bumping up against one another with each casual stride. The contact left a soft smile on your lips, your gaze rising to look at him out of the corner of your eye. His hands had dipped into his pockets, and his collar popped to keep himself from the cold. And you stared for a moment, admiring how the city light reflected off his features. And how it ignited his too-perfect smile when he caught you staring. 

“You look amazing tonight,” his voice cut through the silent street, sending goosebumps to rise on your skin. 

Your smile tugged a little tighter at your cheeks. 

He shouldn't be giving you a compliment like that. You shouldn't have liked hearing them. But you didn't stop them. 

“Thanks, but I feel a little underdressed.”

Ross’ smile split wider, and a laugh erupted from his lips as he threw his head back. It was a laugh so comforting, so familiar, that it warmed your entire body as you came to stand in the empty parking lot where your vehicle sat alone. 

“This is me,” you gestured to the mid size SUV with the lazy sway of your arm. 

“Well,” he sighed out almost hesitantly, “it was really nice seeing you-”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah it was.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, smiles on your faces and your eyes fixated on one another. Unmoving. Not quite wanting to leave. 

Then, he was stepping forward, his arms encasing you in his embraces, and your arms winding around him in return. Your cheek rested against his chest, his warmth radiating to you as he held you. You stood there, your eyes shutting for a moment as you relished in the feeling of him. The feeling of his arms wrapped around your body. The feeling of his hands on your back, and one dipping down. Down to where your ass peeked out from the edge of your jacket. There he gave it a gentle squeeze, and you could feel his gentle exhale as your own was trapped in your own chest. 

He shouldn't have touched you like that. 

You shouldn't have let him. 

And you shouldn't have liked it. 

Drawing back slowly, you tilted your head back to look up at him. And Ross was looking back down at you. His bright eyes were half closed in a dreamy gaze and the corners of his smile had gone soft, leaving his lips slightly parted as he let out each exhale. 

It washed over your face in a blossom of heat, and smelt of the sweet alcohol on his tongue. Ross’ face was so close to yours you could practically taste it–no, you just wanted to. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” you muttered out a quiet goodbye, your limbs not ready to recoil away from his body yet. 

“You should come, I can get you a ticket,” he offered, his words a breath into your hair that ignited your skin as he spoke. 

“I might take you up on it,” you told him, but you wouldn't. 

“I'll see you soon,” Ross sighed, his words igniting your skin as he spoke. 

Yeah, sure you will. Was what you wanted to say. To mock him with those words and a hint of a laugh. Because you knew how this would go. You would go home tonight, and Ross would go back to the hotel room. He would ask if you made it home safe, and you would answer. But then you wouldn't hear from him for days, weeks, maybe months until you crossed his mind again, or he was left with the lonely opportunity to message you. 

Instead, you said nothing, and you smiled a soft, tired smile. 

It was then his hands fell away from you, his touch trailed down your curves, ghosting over the peaks of your hips before you were void of his touch, his warmth, and left numb by his absence. 

So suddenly you felt cold, empty as you stood there in the parking lot. Your head spun, your eyes shutting tight as you tried to process a single thought. But there, as you sought for reason, for logic, there was only action. 

Your arm lurched out before you could stop it, and your hand found what it was looking for as fingers wrapped around Ross’ wrist and dragged down to coast over his palm. Your fingers traced over each crease slowly until you could feel his fingers so close to slipping away, but then his hand captured your hand in return. 

The sudden grasp of your hands together had his body recoiling into your own. There was a moment of tension in your arms before Ross stepped back into his place in front of you. Then, he took another step, forcing you to step back again and again until you were trapped between his body and your car door. He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. You didn’t have to. You could see all of what he wanted to say in the look of his eyes and how they searched yours so desperately for what you wanted from him. 

But what was it that you wanted? 

You said your goodbyes, yet it didn’t feel like enough. It never did, and that was probably why you so desperately clung to any kind of relationship with him. To fill and satisfy a void your boyfriend left in you, but also in hope that one day have the satisfaction of being with him the way you always thought you might but never could be. 

You had always run to Ross in a sense, especially during hardships. He knew you better than most, and he knew more of your secrets than anyone - and you were the same for him. Through tears and through laughter, the love you shared was unique. Unlike any other. Tainted. So close to friendship, but there would always be more. 

And for the first time, it truly felt like you could finally cross those lines together. With his girlfriend back in Colorado, and your boyfriend away on business, it almost felt like fate that the two of you were left alone in New Jersey together. 

His girlfriend didn’t know you existed, but you knew about her. 

Your boyfriend didn’t know he existed, but Ross knew about him. 

The two of you knew every little detail of each other's lives with your partners and helped each other through problems in your relationships that no one else seemed to understand. And it all seemed to be for nothing as you stood there in the night just waiting, hoping that he would kiss you. 

You held your breath as Ross’ hand came up to stroke over your cheek. His touch was so warm, so gentle, that it left your every thought melting from your brain. You held no worry, only anticipation that coiled in the depths of your stomach and left your limbs to tremble. All you could focus on was his fingertips and how they traced every angle of your cheek, down over your jaw, and finally to your lips that quivered with an uneven breath. 

It left your chest aching as you held the softened gaze of his eyes as they moved in as he closed the distance between you. You managed a single jagged breath before it was stolen from you, the warmth of his mouth all consuming as the kiss started in what was the careful brush of his lips against your own. 

Then, it was like a dam broke. 

There was no innocence in how Ross kissed you. His teeth moved hungrily against you, mouth open, and tongues gliding along one another before teeth clashed and desperate inhales were taken before you both dove further into self indulgence. It left you dizzy, your body pressed firmly back into the dirty door of your car. There, Ross knocked your legs just a single step apart and wedged a single leg between yours. You could feel him against the inside of each of your thighs, and so close to their apex. With just the single tilt of your hips, you could have ground yourself against him. Instead, you fumbled in your coat pockets for your keys. 

Your fingers moved over the buttons blindly in your pocket, moving over one button and then the other until the lights flickered and you heard the locks disengage. The loud thud was like the gunshot at the beginning of a race. You couldn’t move your hands fast enough, and neither could he as you both reached for the same door handle, his hand gripped your, gripping it and pulling open. It sent you stumbling away from the door and into his body that helped you into the backseat of your car. 

It was a spacious SUV. One you had slept in the back seat of on a road trip years ago. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was what you had, so it would do. You crawled up the length of the bench seats, giving Ross room to climb in behind you - but there was no space left between you when you heard the door shut firmly behind him. 

His hands were quick to find your body, his grasp so firm on your hips to draw you back into him. Your bodies were a knotted mess as you tried to get situated in the back, the driver’s side seat digging into your front, then your side, and finally your back as you threw your leg over his to straddle him. With his warmth back between your thighs, you stripped off your coat to try to ignore just how hot he made you. Tossing it aside, your hands were freed to explore. Your hands found his body, your touch stroking over the angles of his own face as you kissed him, tasted him. 

You were sure you had kissed him once before, but it had been so long you had forgotten the taste he left on your tongue. It was intoxicating, coaxing a moan up your lips as your hands found their place to rest knotted in the dark wisps of his hair. You toyed with the locks that would threaten to curl if they were only a little longer, as his hands trailed down the curves of your body. Ross caressed just under your breast, his thumb curiously reaching up and grazed just shy of your pert nipple that was pressing into the inside of your bra with the desperation of wanting to be touched. Then, his hands dipped lower over the circle of your waist, the rushed movement wrinkling the fabric, leaving the small of your back exposed. 

Touching your skin was like adding gasoline to an already raging fire. It sent Ross’ lips wandering from yours as his fingers stroked your soft, exposed flesh. His kiss traveled down over your chin, tickled your neck, and found your collarbone with a playful nip. It sent your heart racing. 

He knew you would like that. 

But you had to be careful. 

“No marks,” you breathed out, your eyes shutting as you tried to ignore why that had to be. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out quickly, “yeah, got it.”

With your exchange, it brought you both to a pause. Your chests heaved for breath, and your eyes seemed to look at everything except at each other. A decision needed to be made. You could stop before things could get any more complicated, or Ross could take off your shirt as he so desperately seemed to want to as his hand dragged along its delicate hem. 

You bit your lower lip firmly as you tried to look out the already fogged window. You could see the rainbow of colors that were the city lights shining through each drip of condensation. Focusing on a single droplet, you followed it down to the edge of the window and took a breath that escaped you with a sigh.

You knew what you wanted to do, but before you could say anything, Ross’ voice filled the air, “We don’t have to-”

Your head snapped to look in his direction. “You don’t want to?”

“That’s not what I'm saying,” he answered slowly, his teeth biting his own lip as his eyes fixated on yours. 

You knew what he was getting at. You were nervous, hesitant, but you knew you wanted this. You just needed the assurance that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. 

“Ross…” you breathed out his name. It was the very beginning of the thought that threatened the very tip of your tongue, and that was left strangled in your throat as you felt Ross grip the swells of your hips. 

He held you firm in each hand, and with that hold, he guided you back and forth over his lap. Your hips angled instantly, grinding your needy core over the expense of his lap. You moved to and fro with his moments, and quivered at the feeling of his stiff cock beneath the thick seam of your jeans. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked you, his words slow and clear. He knew what he wanted, but he needed to hear it from you, too. Ross needed you to make the decision on your own, and to hear it from your own lips, even if he had already made up his mind for himself. 

“I-” you gasped out, your heart beating up into your ears like drums. It pulsed through your body, right through to your core that throbbed against the stiff outline of his cock. 

You should have told him to stop. 

You should have pulled your coat back on and sent him on his way. 

But you didn’t. 

“Don’t you dare,” you answered him after a moment, your voice stern, “just,” you took in a long inhale, “let’s be quick - unbutton your pants.”

Your bodies strained in the tight place as you both fought close quarters to undo your pants. You leaned back against the driver's seat to try to get the angle just right to work your jeans down, while Ross pressed down onto his heels and lifted his hips up high to work his hands just low enough for his cock to spring free. 

And while his pants rested around his knees, and that’s all he needed to do to be ready for you, you struggled. You let out a frustrated huff as the head of the driver’s seat dug into your back, and your arms fought the tight denim down your hips. The awkwardness left you slipping. Ross’ hand was quick to catch you before you could fall awkwardly onto him and his stiff cock that was so exposed, hard and ready for you to take him. 

“I got it,” Ross’ words were a rushed promise, his hands gripping the fabric and pulling them down your legs until they rested on the floor of the car with your shoes - but your panties they remained. You watched as Ross admired them for a moment. The simple pale colored lace that looked gray in the darkness. 

Your core clenched as his finger toyed with them, pushing and tugging at the fabric as he lured you back in close to him. And when you were a mere breath away, his finger dipped beneath the fabric and dragged along your slick core, if only just to tease you as he pulled the damned fabric to the side. 

“I wish I could enjoy you, the way you deserve to be enjoyed,” Ross hummed out, his hand guiding you forward to hover above the very tip of his cock. 

You nearly quivered at his words. Many times, he had told you how he would fuck you. How he would enjoy tasting your sweet cunt on his tongue before leaving you moaning as you took his cock like the slut girl you were. But there was no time for those luxuries. 

Angling yourself over his cock, you took hold of it in your cold hand carefully. The hiss that left his lips left your grinning, but it was him that was left with the last laugh as he thrust up into your wet cunt, leaving you overtaken by a pathetic whimper that came with the feeling of taking his cock inside you for the very first time. 

“You like that?” Ross asked you in a whisper, his hands remaining firm on your hips to guide him along his cock with the slow roll of your hips. 

You nodded feebly, your mouth opening to tell him just how good his cock felt, only to unleash a moan instead. 

“Look at you,” his grin grew, “so pretty as you take my cock, and taking it so well you don’t even have the words to tell me - and you’ve always been so good with your words,” he purred, “such a shame really.” 

Ross reached up with his hand, his fingers stroking over your lips as you were left on the verge of another moan. One you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having just yet. 

“I like when you tell me what a dirty slut you are,” his thumb tugged at your lower lip playfully as he thrust up hard into your cunt, coaxing that moan you had choked back into the depth of your throat, “but you sure do have a pretty moan.”

Your core clenched around his cock at the compliment, your hands lurching forward to grip at the leather head rest behind him. 

“Shut up,” you spoke through grit teeth. 

“Oh?” he raised a brow up, his heels digging into the floor again and thrusting so deep your body couldn’t physically take him any further. “You don’t like when I talk dirty to you?”

Your core clenched again, then you gasped, “no, I-”

You moaned again, your entire body reverberating with the sound. 

“You’re so close, I can fucking feel how desperate you are on my cock.” Ross didn’t bite his tongue. He liked to see you so close to the verge of pleasure, practically melting in front of him, and your cunt flexing around him. 

With weak legs, you met every single thrust, but it wasn’t enough. Not for him and not for you, either. 

Ross gripped the fleas of your ass firm in both hands and used it as leverage as he lifted you up and guided you to lay out on the leather seats all without leaving the warm wet embrace of your cunt. With you sprawled out, Ross gripped your hips and guided your legs to wrap around his hips just right. Every thrust made you tingle, made you moan, and soon your toes were curling, your body near recoiling with pleasure. Yet, he thrust through each wave, through every flex of your core, sending his eyes rolling back in his own pleasure. 

“I’m close,” he choked out, your heart suddenly racing with panic. 

“Pull out,” you told him, voice stern, “I’m not, fuck I’m not on the pill. Pull out.”

“What?” he seemed shocked, his cock still buried deep inside you for a thrust, then another before he pulled out and found the warm embrace of his own hand. 

You lay there, panting, legs still quivering, as he worked himself through his climax. His face softened, his body arching over you as he painted the inside of your thighs and the leather seats with his cum. 

“Should have given me a heads up,” he panted out after a moment. 

“Would it have changed anything?” You countered. 

His head shook, “no, but I would have gotten you to suck me off or something-”

“You wish,” you shoved him playfully, “now, get your pants back on.”

Ross settled back into the seat the two of you had started in, but you remained laying there for a moment. You were seeing stars as you stared up at the ceiling, your one hand dipping between your legs and swiping over your cunt to make sure there had been no accidents before you put your panties back into place. Then, each of your moments had to be deliberate. The cum on the inside of your thighs had already begun to dry, but the cum on the seats was still hot and sticky. You couldn’t risk getting it on any of your clothes. It would have to be something you had to clean up before you got home, but first, you had to say your goodbyes. 

You pulled your pants up slowly in silence, then your shoes before you heard the door open and the cold night air infiltrated the car. It sent a shiver coursing through you, your hands desperately reaching for your coat as you slipped out of the car behind him. 

“Are you good to drive home?” Ross asked slowly, his hands in his pocket. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Message me when you get in?”

You looked to your empty driver seat, “yeah, just-” you sighed gently knowing you would be going back to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend even if it was empty for the next week, “don’t be surprised if you’re blocked in the morning when you try to message me.”

Ross’ feature faltered into a frown. “Regretting me already?”

Your heart sank. You didn’t know how to feel, or how you would feel in the morning when you had the night to fully comprehend the choices you had made. 

“Regret you? Nah, never.” You gave him a reassuring smile as you stepped in, your hands on his chest as you pressed up to give him a goodnight kiss. It was a soft, gentle kiss, one that had you pulling back like the gentle rise and fall of waves until he pulled you back in with both hands and kissed you deeply, making sure that you left with the taste of him on your lips. 

Then, you got into the driver's seat of your car, and brought the engine to life with the turn of your key. It reeked of sex, of cum, but it was nothing a good wash and a new air freshener couldn’t mask - but even then as you sat there, your eyes fixed on Ross as he stood there in the parking lot, watching you leave, you barely noticed the smell. No, the heavy feeling in your chest was too distracting. This time really felt like a goodbye. And not just a goodbye for now, but a goodbye forever. 

[jackhghes]

The Masterlist

my hockey boys ✷

Hello! Welcome to my Masterlist this Masterlist will consist of only hockey players. It'll be much appreciated if you call me JJ. I write both smut-angst. If I do make smut works it'll be for 18+ if you're a minor DNI. If you'd like to request then shoot me a message or press the button on my profile that says "Request Here"Please choose from my prompt list. Blurbs Series NSFW Alphabet Request Here

jack hughes coming soon

mitch marner coming soon

pierre-luc dubois coming soon

ross colton coming soon

matthew tkachuk coming soon

[withwritersblock]

~Masterlist~

Requests are closed Last Edited: 12/22/24

Fluff- ❤︎ Angst-★ Dad Fic- ✿ Spicy (Implied Smut or actual Smut)-✖︎

Luke Hughes Masterlist

Cale Makar

Say Isn't it Strange pt. 1 ❤︎ pt. 2 ★ Lover ❤︎ Dog Days are Over ❤︎ just like heaven ❤︎ Castles Crumbling ★✿ Coconut Perfume❤︎

Nathan Mackinnon

The Fall of Home ❤︎✖︎ I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) ❤︎ Colorado (For the First Time)★ ❤︎ Fix You ★ ❤︎ Blessed❤︎ Carry On, Carry On❤︎ Love You, Miss You, Mean It★ ❤︎ This is Home - a series Daylight ❤︎

Cole Caufield

5 foot 9 ❤︎ When He Sees Me ❤︎ Shadow in the Sun ★✖︎ Break up in the End ★ Half as Good as You ★ Until I Come Home ❤︎✖︎ Be My Forever✿❤︎ Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat❤︎ Halloween❤︎

Kirby Dach

Small Talk ❤︎ ✖︎ Your Needs, My Needs ★ Love You Goodbye ★✖︎ Say Love ❤︎ the boy is mine ❤︎ Please Please Please❤︎ Close to You❤︎

Alex Newhook

To Love Someone ❤︎ Heaven ❤︎ Hey ★✖︎

Nico Hischier

Isn't She Lovely ❤︎✿ because i liked a boy★ think later❤︎✖︎ Hard Sometimes❤︎✿ Oh Well, So What❤︎

Jack Hughes

Espresso ✖︎❤︎ F.Y.B.F pt. 1 ✖︎ pt. 2 ❤︎ Do I Wanna Know? ✖︎ Happier Than Ever ★ No Caller ID ❤︎★ Pt. 2 ❤︎ Teenage Dirtbag❤︎

Ross Colton

Room for Two ❤︎

Quinn Hughes

Oh! Darling - a series Champagne Problems★ Meant To Be ★ Happily ★ What's It To You ❤︎ Feelslikeimfallinginlove ❤︎ Light my Love ★ Kiwi❤︎ Pt.2 ★✖︎ Blowing Smoke❤︎

Ethan Edwards

If You Love Her❤︎

[thefangirlingdead]

Walk Me Home

miles wood / ross colton

Someone once told Miles that if something doesn’t scare the shit out of you, it probably isn’t worth doing. Signing to a new team, moving halfway across the country, then promptly falling in love with one of his linemates probably wasn't what they had in mind.

(29k, super slow burn, lots of pining, happy ending, fluff and smut. told myself I wasn't going to write hockey rpf then promptly wrote this monster of a fic, so enjoy)

read on ao3

[cuteandhughesy]

This Love | Mikko Rantanen

summary: you and mikko used to hook - up, but after a classic miscommunication, your arrangement ends, leaving nothing but sour greetings between you both. It doesn't help that mikko is your neighbour - and everything seems to end up with you on each others doorstep.

15.8 K

warnings: NSFW! enemies to lovers | ex! friends with benefits | angst | asshole! ross colton | asshole! mikko rantanen | descriptions of blood and a cut (reader cuts herself | alcohol | suggestive themes + comments | smut | kissing | brief breast play | oral (f receiving) | fingering | unprotected p in v intercourse | pulling out | read at your own discretion.

link to masterlist

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you switch from your left foot to your right, fingers running along the strap of your work bag. the material is a momentary distraction from the awkwardness that floods and sits thick in your apartment elevator.

there's no noise other than the hum of the elevator raising up the shaft and the gentle ding that comes with reaching every floor. you don't look around, eyes downcast at the dark green carpet.

beside you, a throat clears, a subtle reminder that you're not alone.

you can't help yourself from looking - your eyes darting to the left. mikko isn't looking at you, his eyes are focused straight ahead with his eyebrows pulled tight. his large hands are shoved in his dark gray sweat pants, his black compression shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly, that if it was 3 months ago - you probably would've pounced on him right in the elevator.

but, you don't.

three months ago, yourself and mikko were actively jumping each others bones. always stealing glances in the lobby, groping each other in the hallway, mikko trailing kisses along your neck while you tried to unlock your door, and having sex: on a regular basis.

it was pretty much dating - only without the labels and commitment. it was good while it lasted. really good.

you had been new to the building when you introduced yourself to your handsome, tall, and blond neighbour. his accent had your stomach swooping, and the way his large hand had covered yours as they meet in a greeting had your cheeks flushing. mikko was just as enamoured with you as you were with him, and he invited you out to the bars that night. one thing led to another and he was bringing you into bed, treating you to three orgasms.

you two were obsessed with one another. he made you breakfast when he didn't have early practice, and you made him laugh after a bad game. not to mention the toe curling, earth shattering sex: you still think about it (not without cursing yourself for it). the situationship was perfect.

but then something changed. you had been at one of his games, waiting for him with the rest of the girls in the tunnel. he had greeted you like normal, large forearm wrapping around your shoulders, hips pressing into your backside. somebody said you two were a cute couple and...mikko got cold. you just laughed it off, respecting the agreement you both had, but mikko had pulled away from you. he didn't touch you for the rest of the night and didn't even hang around you at the bar afterwards.

you asked him about it in the elevator that night. you're not even sure what you fought about, and can't remember what you threw at him or what he said back. and then you went into your respective apartments and didn't talk again.

you were hurt. hurt because maybe you did want a full relationship with mikko, not just the sex and non commitment. you wanted love. you were ready for love with him. clearly, mikko found that laughable and now here you were.

today, in that elevator, you and mikko rantanen were not friends.

you sigh, looking up towards the electric screen which lets you know you're almost on your floor. you can feel mikko look over at you, but you don't give him the satisfaction of eye contact - because when there's eye contact there's usually a sour look, followed by a jab and then before you know it you're arguing.

still feeling mikko's stare, you finally give in and look back towards him. you raise your brows when he doesn't look away. "what?" you snap.

"you look like shit." he deadpans. his accent sounds thicker today, which unfortunately sends the butterflies loose in your stomach.

registering the actual words he said, rather than the finnish accent, you sigh loudly. "gee, thanks."

mikko takes a hand out of his pocket, running it through the fresh buzz cut atop his head. "rough day at work?"

your brows pull together, "why do you care?"

"i don't." mikko says immediately, "just making conversation."

"well don't."

the ding of the elevator has you looking away, breaking the staring match between you. the metal doors open at your shared floor.

you adjust the strap on your shoulder, stepping forward to leave the stuffy space. mikko moves at the same time, which results in you bumping into his strong chest. you shut your eyes in frustration, taking a sow breath through your nose.

"go ahead," mikko huffs, hand outstretched towards the hallway.

"no, please," you shove your hand out, "be my guest."

"really, I insist." mikko grits.

the elevator doors shut again and you huff, pushing the button so they slide open once more. this time you don't wait for him, pushing past mikko and down towards your apartment.

you can hear him following behind you, probably too close for your liking, so you don't dare turn around to see. digging through your bag, you find your keys.

you miss the keyhole the first time, dropping your keys to the ground.

upon hearing your hushed curse, mikko looks down to his right to see you bent over, black scrub pants hugging your hips in a way that's so right it has his own pants getting tighter.

you stand back up, shoving your key in aggressively, ignoring the blonde's snicker as you open the door. just before you are out of his sight, mikko calls you back.

he's half way inside his own apartment, gripping the door his his long fingers. "same time tomorrow?" you give him an odd look which has the corners of his lips turning up in a subtle smirk. "our elevator ride. are you going to be in a mood again?"

you squint, "is this funny to you?"

"no," he says quickly, "it's not funny. that's what makes this awkward hating thing so much fun."

"akward hating thing?" you mimick, "god you're so incredibly infuriating."

mikko tongues his cheek, "thank you."

you scoff once again, slamming the door.

—

"I had a really good night."

"yeah, me too." you lean farther against your open door, looking up to meet the eyes of your tinder hook up. you're pretty sure his name was jett, but you can't be too sure.

after, like mikko predicted, your rough day at work, you spent the night scrolling dating apps in hopes of feeling something. jett (maybe) was nice. he caught your attention and before you knew it - he was in your bed. it wasn't something you typically did - but with your long work day yesterday on top of mikko's quips, you needed to get laid. it helped that jett (you're pretty sure) was 6 foot of solid muscle.

"well," he says, patting against his jeans once, "I should probably get going to work."

you laugh, "I should as well."

then he leans in, down into your space. you can hear an apartment door open just as jett (probably) closes the gap between you both, placing a heavy kiss on your dry morning lips. he pulls away with a small smile, bidding you goodbye once more before taking the stairs down to the lobby.

the door next to yours clicks shut. "seriously?"

you suppress a groan, turning your body so you can face mikko. "what?" you grit out, crossing your arms over your horse pyjama shirt - you're pretty sure it was a gift from erik johnson, hopefully mikko doesn't remember that detail.

"parading your hook up for the world to see?" clearly, he's not concerned about you wearing his friends gift, because he's not even looking at you when he bites out the snarky question -too busy locking his apartment door.

he's dressed in a similar outfit as the night before, and knowing the time, mikko is most likely on his way to morning skate.

"like you said, rough day at work. needed to blow off some steam."

mikko eyes your sickly sweet smile, clearly trying to get him to bite back. so he mirrors your expression, pocketing his set of keys and turning towards you. "well, you've always loved blowing."

you can feel yourself flush at his sexual innuendo. your clear your throat, "are you done?"

"are you done making out with random men in the hallway?" there's a certain bitterness to his words that has you scoffing.

you can't help but bite back, "I wasn't making out with him. we were saying goodbye with a quick kiss."

"whatever you want to call it." he huffs. he moves past you without another look in your direction, his shoulders tight. mikko sounds more miserable than normal with his last comment - he almost sounded...

you laugh out and it has mikko stopping in his tracks, shooting a glare over his strong shoulder. "what?"

you clap your hands together gently, subconsciously already having turned your body in his direction. "oh my god! you're jealous."

he bellows a deep laugh, spinning back around. "jealous? me? no, i'm not jealous of your sorry excuse of a parting kiss."

"ah, you're so jealous. this is fun to watch." you smirk.

"this is a common area. leave the PDA at home next time?”

"this is my home." you tease, shrugging your shoulders.

mikko pauses, almost taking a step towards you. much to your disappointment, he doesn't engage, just licks his teeth and turns around, stalking grumpily to the elevator. his thick thighs are flexing as he moves, back muscles shifting as well. both are just as drool worthy, and it has you feeling hot again.

he makes it to the elevator and scratches the back of his neck as he waits for it to arrive.

you don't wait around, shutting the door before he can look back at you. leaning against the door, you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. and just like you always did when you saw him, you think about what went wrong.

you can never come up with an answer through, just in a loop of what was.

—

the avalanche had won their game. it had mikko feeling good, leaning back casually in the elevator as he enjoyed the peaceful journey up.

although he was a little dissatisfied because you hadn't been in the elevator, he tried not to dwell on it. because of his game performance, media had run later than usual, so he had missed you on your way home from work.

the door dings open, and mikko's subtle smile that had been adorning his face all night fell. he sees harvey, the old man who runs the maintenance at your open apartment door, a sullen look on his face as you two speak.

he starts making his way to his own apartment, and the conversation becomes clearer.

"the family upstairs had already vacated for the night," harvey sighs, "but the guys will be here really early to fix it, it's too dangerous otherwise."

mikko can't help but peek inside when he passes, and the sight before him immediately has him stopping. "holy crap," he whispers behind harvey.

you groan at his presence and it lights an unpleasant fire in his stomach.

"what happened?"

you watch as mikko looks at your ceiling, the once white plastered flat area now half fallen down, cracks covering the space. "it's fine," you sigh.

harvey's eyes widen, "it's not fine, and i'm not sure how long it will take to repair. you gotta get out of here."

you meet mikko's large blue eyes, swimming with what you think is concern. but it's mikko, you think, so it's definitely more amusement at your predicament rather than care for your well being.

harvey turns toward the 6'4 athlete behind him, "the residence above her had fell asleep with the bathtub running, which is obviously a big no no. the floor got so wet and soft that it cracked, and then when they moved around in a hurry to stop the water, the floor gave out, leaving this hole and all these cracks."

"shit," mikko whispers, and then his eyes meet yours again. "are you okay?"

you don't allow his question to affect you, only sending him a quick nod. "yes, it's fine."

harvey, although a sweet man, sends you a deadly glare. "no, i'm not letting you stay here. you got somewhere you can go?"

you frown, swallowing thickly. "maybe? hotels are still open right?"

harvey is in the middle of a shrug when mikko pushes closer to your open door. "she can stay with me."

you send him a bewildered look, "like hell i'm staying with you."

harvey's brows pull together ever so slightly, sending you a concerning glance, "you two know each other?"

"we're neighbours"

"we're friends."

you say at the same time. you give mikko another disapproving look but he just shrugs.

"we're friends and neighbours," the blonde tells harvey, sending him a shiny grin. "pack a bag and let's go. you're not staying in a hotel alone."

you grit your teeth. "mikko, it's fine."

"y/n." he warns through a smile, "I insist."

harvey just smiles, "well, what a gentleman."

you send the maintenance manager a tight lipped smile, doing your best to look happy at the new arrangement, "oh you have no idea."

harvey doesn't catch on to your tone as you spin around, slightly stomping through your apartment to gather your things. you find a duffel bag pretty quickly, shoving an array of clothes into it.

"don't forget anything," you hear mikko call into your apartment, "harvey says it might be a couple days."

you scoff to yourself, unplugging your charging cables from the outlet, "mikko you're forgetting I live here, I can pop over if i need anything."

"not if it's a construction zone."

you don't brother answering, only rolling your eyes. he is right, you won't be able to access your things properly if there's men in here patching up your ceiling and any other damages caused. so you do pack your skin care and makeup, along with things like your meds and all your underwear.

you meet mikko back at the door with slow steps. he's not looking at you when you approach, himself and harvey in a conversation about something or other and you can't be bothered to listen in and find out about. you shift on your feet, trying not to panic about having to live with your ex hookup for the foreseeable future.

you eyes wander around your now dusty apartment, the con-caved ceiling behind you and the drywall covering the floor. you knaw your lip, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

"alright, let's get out of harvey's hair and head next door." mikko says, as if he could sense your worries.

you blink tiredly, "ok."

mikko rolls his eyes when you push past him, arm brushing his abdomen. he's glad you don't linger there, because he can feel his abs tense at your touch. he follows behind you, pulling out his keys.

your standing silently at his closed door, switching weight between your two feet, no doubt uncomfortable from the weight of the bag on your shoulder and the situation you're about to be in.

mikko sighs gently, unlocking the door.

quietly, you enter. it's just like it was three months ago: suspiciously clean. you suppose it's because mikko was very rarely home, and when he was, he wasn't making a mess. mikko always liked that you were the opposite, leaving a tornado anywhere you went. you werent dirty messy, just messy enough that mikko felt like he was at home. your socks were usually left on his couch, a mug on the coffee table, your lipgloss on the bathroom counter.

you place your bag on one of his bar stools, eyeing his back suspiciously as he bends to look into his fridge. "you thirsty?" he mumbles.

"are you not going to make fun of me?" you blurt out, brows raised.

mikko faces you with a look of confusion, "why would I make fun of you?"

you scoff, "my apartment literally fell apart, leaving me helpless. this is exactly the situation you'd be sure to drive me up the wall about."

mikko has a filthy thought at your words - images of him pressing you against the wall of his room with his body. your legs spread open as he thrusts up into you.

he clears his throat, "no. i'm not going to make fun of you."

"oh." you frown slightly.

mikko catches it and his chest fills with guilt. you just look so exhausted and stressed and kind of adorable. he shakes his head to try and be rid of his feelings. "want a tea?"

you fiddle with your thumbs and sigh gently, "I only like - "

"chee tea," he interrupts you, pulling out and waving around the flavoured tea packet from the cupboard.

he pronounces it wrong, like he always has. "it's chai tea." you correct gently.

mikko flicks on his kettle, "that's what I said, chee."

you suppress the giggle that works its way up your throat.

"are you going to say thank you?" he teases a moment later, long thick fingers preparing your drink. you ignore how he makes it in your favourite flamingo mug, and uses two perfectly sized scoops of sugar...feelings would resurface other wise.

"thank you." you quip, accepting the mug once he slides it over the counter. it easy when he's like this, you think. this is the mikko that you fell for many months ago. you don't dwell on those thoughts much longer, picking up your mug to take a sip of the tea.

he made it perfectly, even though the temperature burns your mouth a little. you hiss, and mikko gives you a knowing look. "don't start." you warn.

he chuckles, "wasn't going to."

you nod, blowing on the top of the beverage before taking another sip.

mikko turns back your direction after putting away the milk carton, crossing his impossibly large biceps over his chest. "you can have the bed. i'll take the couch or I can get out the air mattress for myself...i'll put it in the office."

you put your hand up, "no. i'm not going to be responsible for you getting a shitty sleep on the couch and then sucking on the ice as a result. you take your bed."

he smirks, "it would be your fault." he teases and you send him a look, "i'm being serious. take the bed, i'll be fine."

"don't try this with me," you warn, "i'll take the couch."

you see his face scrunch up in annoyance, "why can't you accept my kind gesture?"

"because, mikko," you breath, "I can't go in your room and sleep in your bed, it's... it's too much."

his shoulders deflate and you look away, back down into your steaming mug grasped tightly between your hands.

"I was just trying to be nice - I can be nice sometimes."

"yeah, thanks, but i'll be okay." you whisper.

it's silent for the rest of your tea, and mikko busies himself with doing the few dishes in the sink.

after, mikko grabs extra sheets and a blanket from his closet and helps you make your bed on the couch. nothing is shared between you but the occasional brushing of limbs, which obviously has you feeling nervous.

"i'll be leaving early tomorrow, we have a road trip." mikko says in the middle of fluffing a pillow.

you nod, "okay."

"but stay here until your apartment is done. i'll only be gone three days. there's no point in spending money on some shitty hotel room."

he's not even looking at you and it makes you almost sad. "are you sure?"

he grunts, "obviously."

"obviously," you mimick, in a high pitched voice. you clear your throat, finishing tucking the sheet underneath the plush couch cushions.

his lips quirk up in amusement, "I don't sound like that."

"obviously," you tease him, standing to your full height.

he joins you, all 6"4 of him towering over you. "i'll leave the key on the counter if you're sleeping."

you nod, "i'd hope so."

he gives you a look.

"goodnight," you smile sickly.

mikko raises a brow, "goodnight, y/n."

you spend the night turning and tossing. you can't believe what's happened. your apartment, staying with mikko...it was very overwhelming. you try not to think about how the last time you slept on this couch, you were sleeping beside the finnish native. his hair was longer then, his skin tan from the summer. he wanted you back then, and now...he hated you for reasons unknown.

he hadn't been that intolerable tonight, you think. he didn't nitpick you too bad, and he made you your favourite tea - helped you get your bed ready. it gave you a glimmer of hope that maybe things could get better. maybe you and mikko could get that friendship back that you missed so much.

but the morning came. you were awake when mikko exited his room, dressed in his slacks and a button down. he didn't even say anything to you, only tossing the keys beside you on the couch.

and your glimmer of hope is gone.

—

thankfully, although the damage looked like a lot of work, it only took two days for everything to get fixed in your apartment.

you were pretty much only in mikko's apartment to sleep. your last couple shifts at the hospital kept going into overtime, resulting in 10 hour days that left you exhausted. there's nothing to really clean up at his apartment, so you just grab your stuff and get relaxed back into your own space.

you're glad you didn't spend too much time at his place, because the whole apartment was filled with memories - ones that were so soft and sickly sweet they left a bad taste in your mouth.

you were off on saturday, which was the day mikko was coming home from the avs road trip. it was just after 11 p.m when mikko knocked on your door. your eyes had been fluttering closed on the couch, body on the verge of sleep when he arrived.

you look through the peephole even through you knew it would be him, your hand clutching onto his gold key.

"you got my key?" are the first words mikko says.

your lips tug down, brows scrunched together. "yes," you scoff.

he raises his brows, his palm up and outstretched in your doorway. you slap his key down in his hand with a sarcastic smile. "thanks." you grit.

"relax," he whispers, shaking his palm out after your rather harsh slap. "no need to get all irritated."

you take a step back, mimicking his high brows, "you're the one who came here with an attitude."

mikko laughs once, "I don't have an attitude, but thanks."

mikko walks away from you, granted it was about four steps before he stopped at his door, angrily shoving the key in the lock and jiggling the knob until the door opened.

he doesn't look at you, barley flinching when your door shuts with a rather loud bang for this late at night. he takes a gentle sigh, walking into his apartment. mikko had already tried to get into his apartment before he knocked on yours, figuring you'd still be living there - clearly not. he was in a shitty mood because the team lost both games on the road, ending their winning streak and all he wanted to was climb into bed - not knock on your door and argue.

he tosses his duffle bag by the legs of the bar stools, huffing as he pours himself a glass of water. he lets his eyes wander around the space, surprised that there's no mess or sign of anybody living there (like usual).

then he sees that damn flamingo mug, your lipgloss smeared on the rim. mikko then opened the cupboard above the kettle, and finds that all your chai tea bags are gone.

a gentle smile takes over his face and he gently closes the cabinet. he leaves the mug by the sink and heads to bed.

—

8 months ago

your eyes scan through the section of shelves that carry the boxes of tea bags, hands on your hips as you search for your desired pick.

you hum, dancing from flavour to flavour; green, orange pekoe, english breakfast, apple cinnamon...

"I don't see chee." mikko states. he's mimicking your stance with his hands on his hips, one foot propped out in a way that makes his thigh look extra strong.

your brows furrow, a glimmer of a smirk appearing, "chee? that's not a tea."

"you said chee." mikko muses, turning his large body towards yours.

"chai," you correct with a smile, "pronounced like lie."

mikko hums once, and then tries again "ch...ee."

you laugh and mikko throws you a playful look, "don't make fun of me." then his bottom lip juts out, looking plump and wet.

you mimick his face and his arms fall flush with his sides. you laugh again, stepping forward into his chest. "i'm not, i promise," the end of your scentence is quiet, pushing up on your toes to grab mikko's face.

he closes the distance between you, kissing your pouted lips deeply. his hands grip your hips over the blue sundress you're wearing, pulling you impossibly closer.

with a groan, you drop back down to the heels of your feet, breaking the kiss before mikko can slip his hands under your dress. "we're in public."

mikko grunts, "let's go home then."

home.

you breath a laugh, "we can once I find my.." you turn towards mikko just as he reaches for the top shelf, grasping onto a box of your beloved chai tea.

"I got the chee," mikko smirks, "let's go."

you giggle, grabbing onto the cart to push it down the isle. mikko tosses in the box and slaps your butt gently.

—

"fuck." your curse, fiddling with the nut that holds your shower pipe to the shower head.

you had finished a night shift at the hospital, wanting nothing more than to get home and shower off any traces of sweat, antiseptic or bodily fluids that may be on you, but of course, your shower head breaks off as soon as you turn it on.

you drop your arms again, running a hand through your oily hair, freshly down from your ever so tight bun. you had already contacted the front and asked for maintenance, but they couldn't do anything until tomorrow and there was no way you were going to stew in your filth until then.

"god damn it," you huff, pulling out your phone. you open your contacts and scroll until you find him. you knaw your lip, hesitantly opening the chat and typing a message.

y/n

hey, sorry to message you but my shower is broke and I need help fixing it. can you help?

you shut your eyes at how desperate your message come across. you don't wallow much longer because your phone buzzes with a response.

mikko rantanen

who is this?

your mouth drops open slightly, because, was he being serious. when another message doesn't come through you start typing.

y/n

it's y/n. you seriously deleted my number that fast?

mikko rantanen

I thought it's what you would've wanted me to do

oh. you frown ever so slightly. your phone buzzes again.

mikko rantanen

i'll come help you

y/n

the doors open. let yourself in.

you attempt to get the pipes back together once more while you wait, which turned to be very unsuccessful.

you're up on your tip toes when mikko walks into your apartment, making his way to the bathroom he's showered in many times before. he takes a moment to admire the way your scrub top has ridden up, exposing the dimples on either side of your spine.

mikko clears his throat and you jump slightly, turning towards him with your shower head clutched tight.

"having some trouble?" he teases, brows raised at your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

your squint, "listen, i've had the longest shift at work and all I want to do it shower. maintenance cant do anything until tomorrow. the last person I want help from is you, so please don't provoke me."

his big hands shoot up in surrender and he takes a step back, "I can leave if you really don't want my help."

you take a big sigh, closing your eyes momentarily. "no. although I many not want your help, I need it. can you fix my shower?"

he smiles triumphantly, "happy to help."

you send him a close mouthed smile, and you push the shower head to his chest, hitting right between his hard pecks. mikko looks down slowly and then his eyes dart back to you. "what's the magic word?"

"mikko." you deadpan.

"nope, that's not it."

"please." you grit out.

he smirks, hands overlapping yours. for a moment, your shocked at his bold movement, but then his fingers are gripping the shower part and your remember he's literally just grabbing the things you shoved at his chest.

he steps into your tiled shower, biceps flexing as she starts to work on putting the parts back together. you can see the tiny trail of hair below his navel as his arms lift, leading down beneath the band of his athletic pants.

mikko fixes it in like, 5 minutes, which was a little bit annoying. even more annoying when he sends you a knowing smirk: a little I could fix it and you couldn't smirk.

you tilt your head with a sarcastic face, "my hero."

he breaths, "I know right."

"don't push it." you say, your hand out infront of him to further your words. mikko chuckles slightly at that, watching as you move past him and test the dial, turning on the shower and watching the water as it successfully pours out the head.

"thanks," you say quietly, "now leave. I can't be in these dirty clothes any longer."

"you're welcome," he says deeply, "not going to walk me out?"

you send him a glare over your shoulder, "go away."

he tongues his cheek with a smirk before walking out. when you step into the steamy shower and finally have a moment to reflect, you realize that it was the first time since you and mikko 'broke up' you didn't truly argue. it was...refreshing.

—

7 months ago

mikko's strong arms wrap around your waist, your soft skin only covered by his dress shirt.

"wondered where you went." his voice is hoarse, words mumbled into the crook of your neck as he leans in.

you sigh contently when mikko's lips start pressing gentle kisses to your exposed shoulder and throat column.

"the sunset is really pretty today." your head falls back against mikko's chest, fingers tracing the veins along his hand. the warmth of the august sun is settling on your exposed skin, a reminder of the dwindling summer.

"you're really pretty," mikko teases, kissing your cheek as his hands slide down your body, slipping underneath the hem of his shirt to touch you. "thought you maybe left."

you spin around, arms coming up to warp around his neck. mikko's hands grab a fistful of your naked ass, tugging gently. "wouldn't do that unless you knew I was leaving."

he smirks, "good." then he leans down, capturing your lips in a hot kiss that has you moaning out.

you're thankful that your apartments balconies are enclosed, because you didn't want anybody to see the way mikko has you come undone on his balcony.

—

you have a bag of garbage in your hand and smiley face slippers on your feet when you run into gabe landeskog and his wife melissa in the hallway. it's almost 8 p.m. and the sight of them has you stopping dead.

"y/n," they smile in unison, all white teeth and blonde hair invades your space as they swoop you into tight hugs.

when you and mikko were seeing each other, you were often with him when the team all hung out. you had grown close with the landeskogs, and you and melissa often texted and had lunch dates.

"hey," you say, very aware of the star pimple patch stuck your forehead, "how are you guys?"

"good," gabe says gently, "i'm getting close to getting back out there."

you smile, "that's amazing."

the elevators ding, opening just as cale makar makes his way out, heading in your direction. your brows furrow, because why the hell are you running into two avalanche players in an apartment they don't live in.

"what's going on?" you breath a laugh, watching as cale smiles politely in your direction, moving past you and the landeskogs. then he knocks on mikko's door and everything makes more sense.

"mikko is having a party," gabe says, "it was his turn to host."

just as gabe finishes his scentence, the door next to yours swings open, revealing the finnish native dressed in a black hoodie and light jeans. you can smell his cologne and your knees almost buckle.

"you didn't know?" melissa asks.

you shake your head, switching the garbage bag to your other hand before your fingers have the chance to cramp.

"moose!," gabe calls out, pulling you under his arm, "you're having a party and didn't invite y/n? have you no soul?"

your eyes widen as gabe laughs. cale's expression mimics yours, mumbling something incoherent before moving past the winger and into the rather crowded apartment.

"oh, it's fine." you tell the couple, "mikko doesn't have to. we aren't really friends."

"and?" gabe questions.

"you're our friend," melissa smiles, tugging a strand of your hair playfully.

mikko looks at you all sheepishly and that has you swallowing thickly. "you don't need to, mikko. seriously i'm like totally not ready to mingle with people," melissa gives you an all too knowing look, "seriously i'm in my pyjamas."

"then get changed," gabe sing songs, releasing your shoulders. swiftly, he takes the garbage bag out of your hand. "i'll do this, you go get ready."

gabe leaves, somehow knowing where the hell the trash shute is. you curse the swede silently. melissa sends you a poke and a smile before leaving you in the hallway, crossing the threshold into mikko's apartment.

mikko is still standing there, staring at you with an emotionless expression.

you shrug, "seriously, I don't have to come if you don't want me to."

he sighs gently, "the doors unlocked." then he leaves, shutting the apartment door between you.

you nod to yourself, spinning right around and back into your own apartment. you do the best you can at getting presentable. not wanting to waste the skin care you had already applied by putting on makeup just to wash it off, you just rip off your pimple patch - thankfully the redness has disappeared.

you drag a brush through your hair before putting on the first pair of leggings you find and and plain fitted tshirt. you don't bother with shoes and keep your smiley slippers on. you spray your perfume and then you're leaving, turning to your right and letting yourself into mikko's apartment.

the smell of cologne hits you immediately, but you expected that in a room full of men with too much money. you smile politely at faces you recognize, making your way through the space, teammates of mikko's stopping you to greet you excitedly, hugs and small talk alike. nathan even cracks a smile when he sees you, which was crazy.

you see that mikko has set up a table for drinks near the built in fireplace. there's nothing crazy on the table with it being the middle of the season, and most of the bottles look untouched. melissa is standing there, and you march your way over.

"melissa," you hiss, "i hate you for this."

she smiles at you, "don't hate me. gabe started it."

"yeah and when I find him i'm going to kick him in the dick."

the blond snorts, pouring 7 up into her cup of tequila. "everyone is so happy to see you though, everybody misses you."

you frown, "I miss them too." and you do. although they were mikko's teammates primarily, they had become your good friends in the months you two were seeing one another. logan o'connor and his fiancé always wanted you to join their hikes, bowen byram was constantly sending you new imessage games and devon towes was always talking to you about all your mutually watched tv shows.

the team had been your only friends when you moved to denver, and now you barley saw them.

you clear the emotions from your throat, "maybe if mikko wasn't so stuck up and -"

"hey, ross!" melissa says quickly, deescalating your upcoming flur of anger. the brunette in question turns towards you both, already sporting his wide, shining smile. "ross, you remember y/n, right?"

ross colton then turns his body towards you, and you blush under the gaze of an attractive man (what's new). ross has always been handsome to you, all styled hair and strong muscles. he was pretty. pretty in a way that was almost distracting and way out of your league.

"yeah, I haven't seen you in forever."

you notice that melissa has slipped away, and you have to remember to flick her arm for that later.

"how have you been?" ross smiles.

"i'm okay," you breathe, "all things considered."

"you look great."

"really?" you wince, "i'm pretty sure this shirt has a stain on it and my skins all oily from the pounds of moisturizer i put on..."

"i'm complementing you, y/n, take it."

your cheeks heat up, "okay. thank you ross. you clean up nice." you immediately regret that, your choice of a compliment coming off very grandma like. "I mean-"

"thank you," he smiles.

"you didn't think I sounded like an elder?"

ross laughs gently, seemingly standing closer than he was when your conversation first started. "no, I'll take any compliment from a pretty girl like you."

"like me?" you splutter.

he laughs again, arm reaching out to squeeze your bicep. "is that okay?"

mikko, your brain screams. what about mikko?

"yeah," you whisper anyways. you tell your brain to zip it: because why the hell would you be thinking about mikko. I mean sure, ross wasn't as tall as mikko, or as big as mikko. you've always liked blondes, but brunette hair was good too.

"okay," ross whispers back. you flash him a smile and he releases your arm. "how about you put your number in my phone? we can hang out when our schedules line up."

you almost jump for joy. this is what you wanted, you think. ross seems stable, like he wants more than just that unfulfilling hookup culture that mikko wanted. "yeah," you say, "for sure."

you punch in your number, adding a little smiley face emoji beside your name in the contact.

"sweet," he smiles, pocketing his phone, "I gotta get back to logan but i'll text you."

"alright," you nod once, "i'll be seeing you."

"yeah," then ross leaves, disappearing back into the small crowd of people gathered in mikko's apartment. you watch as ross joins o'connor and a couple other people on the couch, taking his seat. for a moment you let yourself wonder if ross knows his teammate has been all up in your guts on that very couch.

you snap out of it, turning back to the table and making yourself a drink.

"what the hell did he want?" mikko's deep voice mumbles from above you.

you sigh, "nothing."

he moves so he's standing closer to your left, making his own drink beside you. "didn't look like nothing." mikko mutters.

you roll your eyes, turning to face him. "are you watching me?"

he looks into your eyes, "it's hard not to notice when you're eye fucking my teammate."

"I was not-" you pause, surveying the expression of the blonde's face. his brows pull together when you suddenly stop speaking, eyes burning into yours inquisitively. "why is it any of your business anyways?" you question.

"you're in my house." mikko spits. his cup is still only half made, abandoned on the sticky table top.

"you're jealous again."

he laughs, "that's funny."

"am I wrong?" you ask, arms crossing over your shirt. mikko watches the way your boobs push together in your v-neck, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"i'm not jealous, i'm being absolutely reasonable." mikko sighs, "my ex is flirting with my teammate right infront of me. am I not allowed to question it?"

"am I really your ex if we never dated?"

mikko looks taken back by your question, licking his lower lip as you stare at one another. then he's clearing his throat, stepping closer to you.

he chooses to ignore your last question, only answering the initial accusation, "why would I be jealous of somebody like him?"

you gulp, looking up at him as mikko leans down slightly to whisper.

"maybe you should back off a little," you bite out. mikko scoffs at your threat and it has you frowning, "just because you didn't want me, doesn't mean somebody else doesn't."

mikko pulls a face of what seems like confusion, "you don't even know what you're talking about."

you roll your eyes at his rude accusation, your throat tightening with all too familiar emotions. you look away quickly, leaving mikko to watch as you turn on your heels and leave him standing alone, left with nothing but both untouched drinks on the table.

—

melissa has an expensive pair of dark sunglasses on when you sit down - so tinted you're not even sure if she notices you at first, busy looking over the menu.

"hey," she greets with a smile - clearly aware of your presence.

"hi," you huff. you're still in the burgundy v-neck from the night before, you've only switched out your black leggings for a pair of jeans - smiley slippers turned converse.

melissa texted you early the following day after the get together at mikko's apartment, buttering you up with the promise of breakfast and what she claims as 'quality time with your best friend' - she had you at breakfast.

"I didn't see you leave last night," melissa muses.

you laugh gently, "that was the point."

she eyes you over the menu, one perfectly shaped brow raised. "something happen?"

the menu that you had previously picked up was slapped down to the table. irritated, you run your hands through your straightened hair, a heavy breath leaving your lips. "mikko happened! god, mel, he's so fucking frustrating."

she sends you a small pitiful smile, "what he do this time?"

what he do this time - because melissa knows better than to assume you two have just stopped your arguments and sudden hatred and just left one another alone. she is too smart and knows you and mikko too well: both stubborn.

"well, it's started when ross asked for my number -"

"he did?!" melissa gleams.

"yeah, anyways," you dismiss, "he was all in my business because he saw ross and I talking - he was basically shaming me for talking to a friend. like are you kidding?!"

she hums, "sounds like he was jealous."

"yes!" you chant, "he totally is and i told him he was and that made it worse. he said 'why would i be jealous of someone like him?'" you mimick the finnish natives deep voice and then scoff, "god melissa, what does he even mean by that."

melissa takes a slow sip of her orange juice, brows pulled together. "sounds like he's trying to convince himself all while trying to tell you. maybe he's still got some feelings for you-"

"definitely not," you cut your friend off, "he made that clear when he blew me off at the thought of being in a relationship with me."

the blonde frowns gently.

"I don't even like fighting with him," you whine, "but he seems so admit of poking the damn bear until I have no other option but to bite back."

"gabe says that mikko never talks about what happened," melissa says gently, "anytime somebody asks him about you, he shuts down. maybe you two need to have a conversation and find out why."

you brows draw together, "why what?"

"why he never talks about what happened and why he treats you in a way that consists of arguing and jealousy." melissa says. you pull a face so she sighs, "something isn't right about it - don't you think you owe it to yourself to figure it out."

you pick up your menu again, "I don't want to get my feelings hurt again. although we fight, i'd rather not get along then not have mikko in my life at all."

melissa looks like she has something else to say, but then a young teenage employee is stopping at your table - effectively ending her train of thoughts.

"hey guys, i'll be your waiter today, what can we get started for you?"

nobody brings up mikko for the rest of the meal - you make sure of that. busy asking your friend about the kids and your shared book club.

the rest of the day is spent by yourself in your apartment, watching movies until your eyes start to hurt - a sign for a break and to start your dinner.

you're mid bite of chicken alfredo when somebody knocks at your door. the sound has you freezing, slowly placing down your fork to stand.

through the peephole you see mikko standing there, eyes looking down the hall as he waits for you to answer. you swallow your chicken, wiping your face before you open the door.

mikko looks almost surprised to see you, most likely assuming you wouldn't answer after your last conversation- you're honestly surprised that you did.

"last night," he starts, "I was mean. I hurt your feelings."

mikko pauses, watching your face for any sort of reaction - waiting for you to say something. you don't though, only crossing your arms and raising your brows as if urging him to continue.

"i'm sorry." he sighs.

"okay," you hum, "thank you for apologizing."

mikko shoves his hands in his pockets but immediately takes them back out. he's clearly debating saying something more, you can tell by the pull of his face and by the way he rubs the back of his neck.

"what?" you deadpan.

mikko looks at you shocked for a moment, brows raised and eyes wide. then his shoulders fall and he's sighing, "whatever happened between us a couple months back - can we just move past that? I'm tired of fighting with you."

you blink three times...'whatever happened between us' - like he wasn't the one who blew you off. although you want to defend yourself and your feelings, you don't.

you take a deep breath, "sure. we can move past that."

a ghost of a smile graces his plump lips. "maybe we can even be friendly?"

you squint, "we will see."

he bites his lip, "c'mon i'm trying to be nice."

"last time you tried to be nice it ended with getting your keys thrown at me."

his mouth drops open ever so slightly, "I didn't throw them at you, I lightly tossed them beside you." mikko argues.

you raise your brows at the blonde, and with the look on your face he stops himself, taking a slow breath through his nose and plastering a smile on his face.

"so what do you say?"

mimicking a sarcastic grin, you uncross your arms and jut your small hand in his direction. he looks down at your palm and tongues his cheek, a small breath of a laugh leaving his lips. mikko grabs your hand in his own, shaking it once.

"no more arguing," you hum.

mikko smiles, "no more arguing."

—

5 months ago

"hello? are you listening to me?"

mikko blinks hard, "what?"

bowen byram just lets out a hearty chuckle, swishing around the beer in his bottle against the high top table.

"I said -"

mikko's eyes dart away, moving through the crowded denver bar until he spots you again. your head is thrown back, laughing at something melissa has just told you.

you're holding a clear cup of some orange drink in one hand, your other palm pressed against the pale pink material of your summer top.

mikko has never known someone so beautiful, he thinks.

as if you can feel his stare, your head turns and you're locking eyes with one another. immediately, mikko feels his lips tug up in a smirk.

you smile back. one of your eyebrows pull up in a question for his stare.

mikko just shrugs, slow smirk becoming impossibly bigger. you shake your head in disbelief, a breathy giggle slipping between your lips. it has mikko biting his lip, not once breaking the eye contact between you.

"wow, you must really like her."

bowen's words have mikko clearing his throat, head swiveling around to meet his young teammates gaze. bowen's wearing a knowing smirk, taking a slow sip of his beer.

mikko shrugs but smiles with all his teeth. that's enough of an answer for bowen.

—

not arguing with mikko is actually not as hard as you initially thought it would be. sure, sometimes you both can't help yourselves and start poking at one another about stupid things.

but in the elevator you just smile at one another politely and ride up to your floor in peace - sometimes even small talk is exchanged between you. mikko even goes as far as taking out your garbage so you don't have to trek down to the trash shute. it's...nice - familiar. he's starting to remind you of the mikko you were in love with and that always sends your heart rate sky rocketing.

you're thinking about your and mikko's change of relationship while you're cutting your celery - which you probably should've been paying more attention to, rather than thinking about the 6"4 attractive sex god you once had the pleasure of having. your hand slips, the knife you had been using veering to the left and catching your index finger.

you hiss, dropping the blade to grab your finger. "fuck."

the blood seeping out beneath your fingers is enough indication that you had nicked your skin. suddenly you're panicking, everything you know about your profession exiting your brain. you have always been good with human fluids and injuries- that's why you got offered the job in denver in the first place: you were a great nurse. but anytime it came to your own body and self inflicted injuries - you clamped up.

with another shaky breath you leave your apartment, struggling momentarily to open the door without the proper use of your hands. you use your elbow to knock on mikko's door, praying that he's between a practice and game.

it's not a moment later that he opens the door, his eyes a bit hazy - probably just waking up from a nap.

you feel yourself get emotional, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks while you stand in front of him.

mikko's eyes widen and he reaches out to you, eyes dancing between your face and blood covered fingers. "what happened?"

you sniff, "I cut myself, and i'm too scared to see if I need stitches."

"oh, for the love of— come in and let me check." mikko guides you into his apartment with an arm around your shoulders, his free hand is over top yours, applying more pressure to your wound. you get to his bathroom, and you finally get a glimpse of yourself in his mirror.

your mascara is smudged under your eyes and your lips have swelled up like the typically did when you were crying.

"okay, let me see." mikko whispered, his hands prying your tight grip away until he can see your finger.

your eyes clench shut, and your breath quickens as you cry harder.

"i'm going to run it under the water so I can see it better, okay?"

"okay," you whisper. you let your eyes open so you can watch as he manoeuvres your finger under the tap. your breathing is a bit laboured which has mikko using his free hand to rub your back - if you weren't so emotional you'd probably be blushing.

"looks like it's not bleeding anymore."

you wince as you watch the water turn red, washing away the blood.

mikko's eyes dart to the side of your wet face, brows pulled together in the middle. "does it hurt?"

you shake your head, "I - no, I don't think so. I don't know," you cry.

he doesn't laugh or tease you about your stuttering, he just eyes you gently. he brings your hand back towards himself, using the paper towel by his sink to dry your finger. "it's not deep - doesn't need stitches. you probably cut it weird, that's why it bled like that-" he smirks gently, "but you're smart so you probably knew that."

you've stopped crying for the moment, and mikko is grateful for that. he wipes the skin with alcohol before putting a baindaid on your finger.

he's wrapping the tails around your digit when you sigh, your free hand coming up to wipe your face. "i'm sorry if i woke you up from your nap, I know how important they are."

mikko shrugs, "you're more important than a nap." you feel yourself soften at his words. he taps your freshly bandaged finger twice, a close mouth smile on his face. "that feel okay?"

"yeah," you whisper, "thank you, mikko."

"that's what friends are for, right?"

you nod, "right."

he thumbs behind him, back into the hallway that leads to his living room. "did you want to stay? you were pretty upset."

you huff, images of your crying face flashing through your mind, "don't remind me...i've never been an attractive crier."

he laughs gently, "nah, you looked," he hums for a moment, "pretty." mikko almost reaches up and brushes away your stray hairs, but he doesn't.

you wish he had. you clear your throat, eyes wandering down to your covered finger. you run your pinky over the edge of the baindaid as a distraction, "always a flirt." you tease him.

you look up just in time to watch mikko smirk softly, a tinge of pink covering the tips of his ears. "only for you."

there's a moment then, were your eyes and mikko's met in a soft gaze. thousands of emotions and unspoken words swimming between them. you breathe out, your minty breath hitting the white crinkled fabric of his shirt.

he blinks slowly and you mistake him for being tired - bored of your meltdown. you shake your head, breaking eye contact. "i'll go now," you take a few steps back, "let you get rest...i don't want to be responsible for you playing like shit."

your comment has mikko thinking about when you last slept in his apartment, vacated out of your own. although he's hurt by your sudden change of attitude, he doesn't show it. he knows you don't want the soft connections and commitment, so he just nods, "well it would be your fault."

you pause with a gentle smile, also thinking back to that night you spent on mikko's couch just a few weeks ago. you say goodbye again and walk out of his apartment, still fiddling with the brown bandaid on your finger.

mikko wishes you stayed.

you wish mikko wanted you.

—

4 months ago

you shove another one of your favourite chocolate cookies in your mouth, chewing quickly. the movie on tv isn't anything new, in fact you'd seen the hunger games well over 100 times by now. it still has you hooked though, blindly shoving another cookie in as your eyes watch the screen.

the tea mikko made you before the movie started is probably cold by now, sitting in the flamingo mug you claimed on the coffee table. when mikko said he'd never seen any of the hunger games movies you had sat him down, pushing him to the couch and bribed him with a make out and some dry humping to watch the movie. spoiler alert: it worked.

another cookie is in before you swallow the previous one, crumbs falling down your hoodie.

you're eyes snap to your right when mikko's thumb brushes your lips, gently wiping stray chocolate crumbs of your mouth.

"watch the movie," you say between swallows.

he breaths a laugh, "I am."

"no," you tease," you're watching me."

he just shrugs, clearly not feeling guilty. using the sleeve of your hoodie, you wipe over your mouth. mikko's brows come together and he pushes your hand away, using his own hands to wipe of the smudges of chocolate.

you flush, which makes him smirk. then he's pulling your face towards his. it isn't long after that you have to rewind the movie, missing the most important parts because mikko and you got distracted with each other.

—

two weeks after the whole crying in your old situationships/neighbour/friends apartment - you get a text from melissa landeskog.

you finish a gulp of wine, picking up your buzzing phone.

mel landeskog

gabe says mikko has been happier...

mel landeskog

did you take my advice and talk?

you sigh, placing down your glass.

y/n

we haven't really talked about it, no.

y/n

but you'll be happy to know we called a truce

y/n

and it's kind of working? we haven't had a real fight in a couple weeks

you catch yourself smiling at your phone at the mere thought of mikko. you stop yourself with a shake of your head just as a reply comes through the phone.

mel landeskog

yay! this is progress

mel landeskog

does that mean you can come to the game tomorrow night to keep me company? i haven't hung out with anybody but the kids in forever.

y/n

only if you buy me a beer

that's how you ended up at the ball arena, a place that just a few months ago you never thought you'd step foot into again. you have luke landeskog between your body and the plexiglass of the rink, your hands tight on his little hips.

gabe still isn't playing, not yet out of the lengthy healing process of his last injury. melissa still liked to bring the kids to games though. linnea loved seeing all her uncles and friends at the arena, and luke was starting to get to the age where he recognized what was happening in front of him.

"look, linnea!" melissa exclaims, bent down to her daughters level, "is that nate?" the blond is pointing through the glass and in the direction of the star player.

linnea giggles, shouting a yes and bangs on the boards. nathan's too far to hear her, but the little girl is excited anyways.

luke dances in your grip, hands pressed to the glass with a gummy smile. you laugh at his excitement, pointing out players as they warm up around you.

you're looking at melissa when a body comes at you, nathan's skates snowing the boards as he makes a hard stop. the kids giggle and wave excitedly as he waves back at them, his own smile cracking on his lips.

"does mikko know you're here?" melissa asks.

you send her a bewildered look, eyes wide. you pray nathan can't hear her question. "mel, people can hear you, ya know?"

your friend giggles, shrugging her shoulders. "well? does he?"

"no," you say, "why would I tell him?"

"you do know he plays for this team right?"

you whip your head around to look at her, but she's sporting a teasing grin, clearly trying to egg you on.

"ha ha," you muse, looking back through the plexiglass to watch the avs warm up.

"do you like mikko?!" linnea shouts up at you.

melissa shushes her immediately, reminding her to use an inside voice. you take a deep breath and try to remember that children are just curious.

"of course I do," you smile, "we are friends."

"oh, are you?" melissa muses.

you send her a look before glancing back down to the strawberry blond girl. "do you like mikko?"

"yes!" she cheers, banging on the glass when you see another player approach in your peripheral vision. "hi mikko!" linnea cheers.

your head snaps up, locking eyes with the man of the hour. you're at an advantage with the ice being a foot lower than the stands and you're almost eye level with mikko. he's still a bit taller though, and that's just hot in itself.

you wish you didn't flush at the sight of him, knowing that melissa would tease you about it later.

his brows raise slightly, surely wondering why the hell you're at the game. then he smiles all slow and syrupy at you....and you might just die.

you tickle one side of luke, using your other hand to take one of his chubby fits and wave it in mikko's direction. the fin smiles at the baby, tapping his stick against the glass at him. luke laughs, pushing against the surface.

then mikko takes his stick and hits the glass by your face, pulling your attention away from the kid. he gives you one more smile before turning away, although he stays in the same spot, just practicing his stick handling with his back turned to you.

you make the mistake of looking at melissa and she's already beaming at you, a raise to her brows. "friends indeed," she hums.

"stop." you warn, cheeks surely permanently flushed red for the foreseeable future.

after the third period ends with an avalanche victory, it's only minutes after the team leaves the ice your phone is buzzing in your lap.

mikko rantanen

i didn't know you were coming

mikko rantanen

want me to drive us home?

you smile at the way he worded the question, even though there was nothing special behind his words.

"I know who y/n is texting," melissa sings in a baby voice to luke, hugging him in her lap.

you ignore her.

y/n

melissa drove me

mikko rantanen

that's not what i asked. do you want me to drive us home?

his assertive texts give you a momentary flashback to other times mikko had been assertive with you. there's nothing to overthink, you remember. mikko is simply just offering to take you back to your shared apartment building - a place he's already going. he's saving melissa a trip, if anything.

y/n

okay, yeah.

you pocket your phone and turn towards your friend. "mikko is going to take me home."

melissa smirks, "I thought so."

you roll your eyes playfully but stand up from your seat, bidding goodbye to the landeksogs and making your way through the arena and down into the avs locker room hallway, flashing your badge at the security guards.

when mikko spots you, he smiles. in that moment it was easy to get caught up in the familiarity of your old selves - walking back to mikko's car and talking about the game. your heart cracks at the memories, because no matter what he's still the guy who doesn't want to love you the way you craved him too.

—

3 months ago

you're breathless, chest heaving up and down as you lay flat on your back. a smirk is playing on your lips, heart racing as you take a moment to collect yourself.

mikko rolls over and up on to his elbow, leaning over your body. he's smiling softly down at you.

"i like the freckles on your nose," he whispers, "and the ones on your cheeks. and i like your eyes and your lips."

you grin, a hand reaching up to run through his blonde curls - the action much softer than minutes ago when your were gripping his hair at the roots as he brought you over the edge.

"or I just like you." mikko muses, his free hands moving up until he can hold your face, his thumb stroking gently over your cheek bone.

"always the charmer," you whisper back. "I like you too."

your words send prickles down mikko's spine, the redness of his skin deepening down his chest and up past his neck.

his hand leaves your cheek and scoops behind your back, bringing your body flush to his own. your naked boobs push against his strong chest, his large leg slotting between yours.

sex with mikko was always phenomal, but the tenderness he showed you after was always the best part.

_

your pleather jacket makes a crinkly noise as you uncross your arms. you pull out your phone from the oversized pocket to check for an unread text from ross colton. you knaw on your lip again, and you're sure all your lipstick is gone now form the constant nibbling. there's no texts, no missed calls, no unheard voicemails.

you're being stood up - on fucking valentine's day. you shift on your feet in the hotel lobby, leaning forward to see if maybe ross has pulled up to the curb - waiting for you in a car with a bouquet of roses. but nobody is there.

you're embarrassed, standing alone in your tights and skirt. you even put on your favourite red top to match the holiday aesthetic. you did your makeup nice and styled your hair for what?

you sigh, pocketing your phone again. you can already feel the looks of pity from maintenance man harvey and jaclyn: the middle aged woman who runs the front desk.

you're going to go upstairs and cry - that's the only thing to do. you spin on your heels, avoiding eye contact as you sulk back towards the row of elevators. your hand shakes as you reach out and push the button.

the doors open not 10 seconds later. your eyes meet mikko's just as he pulls out his phone.

"hi," he whispers, blinking three times fast. he looks handsome. he's wearing dark jeans and white dress shirt. the first two buttons are undone, exposing his chain. he's got a gray peacoat on as well, pulling the look together.

"hey," you force a smile, "sorry, i'm going up."

his eyes dance over your face, no doubt taking notice of your teary eyes and flushed cheeks. "are you okay, y/n?"

"i'm great," you cheer quitely. you side step him, walking into the open elevator. his body spins to follow your movement, worried eyes still on yours. "just going to head to sleep. long day."

"are you sure-"

"yes, i'm fine." you chirp, the elevator doors sliding closed and separating the two of you.

mikko takes a deep breath, staring at the silver doors as they carry you up to your shared floor. you we're definitely not okay.

"she was stood up."

mikko turns, eyeing harvey and jaclyn as they sit behind the lavish reception desk. harvey is taking a slow sip of what smells like coffee, brows raised as he looks at him.

jaclyn was the one who spoke, her lips turned in so she can kiss her teeth.

mikko frowns, taking four big steps forward until he reaches the table, leaning on it as he eyes the employees. "she was?"

"huh uh," harvey hums, "she came down here twenty minutes ago all dolled up and she just stood by the door until, well, you saw her go upstairs."

"she didn't have to say anything," jaclyn says, "you don't get all dressed up for valentine's day for no reason. whoever she was supposed to see tonight - they didn't show up."

mikko curses silently, running a hand over the top of his head. his hair is longer now, pieces of blonde hair curling between his fingers. "I feel terrible."

"you didn't do anything wrong," harvey says, "but you could be the one to make it right."

mikko's brows furrow together, "what do you mean?"

"you're friends right?" mikko nods.

"then go check on her." jaclyn interrupts. "unless you're heading somewhere."

"no, I'm not." mikko does have somewhere to be. him and a couple of the single guys on the team were going to hit up a local bar and get a couple drinks. he was already opening the text thread to tell them he wouldn't be there.

"here," jaclyn hums, plucking a pink rose from the vase that sat on top of the reception desk. "take this and go make her happy."

mikko thanks them, getting back to the elevator and pushing the button rather frantically until the doors open.

25 minutes have passed since you'd made it back up to your apartment. you cried while scrubbing the makeup off your face, but thankfully your tears have stopped. you swapped your skirt and jacket for your favourite pink sweat set. you're moping around your kitchen, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose. you huff, moving to push them back up but a series of knocks on your door stops you.

you don't bother checking who it is, pulling open the white door slowly with a blank expression.

mikko looks up when the door creaks and he watches your face contort into one of cunfusion.

"what are you doing here?" you whisper.

"I live here," he teases. "this is for you," he hands you the delicate rose, and you frown while holding it to your chest.

"what is happening right now?"

"i'm not going to let you be alone on valentine's day, y/n."

"how do you know-"

"come with me." mikko grabs a hold of your free hand and brings you next door. you've noticed now he's not wearing his coat anymore, and another button of his shirt has come undone.

you walk into his apartment and are greeted with the tv on, its light casting a cool glow in the living room. it smells like candy, thanks to the candle on his kitchen counter. there's a few lamps on around the apartment and your favourite chocolate cookies are on a plate centered on the coffee table.

"what's all this?" you ask, words gentle as you gawk at the space infront of you.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, "I thought because you didn't get to go out for valentine's day, I would get you over here to relax and watch a movie."

"mikko-" you stop yourself, rose still clutched in your palm. "you didn't need to do all this."

"I wanted to." he insists. then he walks into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle.

you watch him wordlessly, your mouth hung open. he opens his cabinet and takes out a chai tea bag, plopping it into that mug you love so much.

confused, your brows furrow. "where did you get those?"

mikko glances at you over his shoulder, "what? the chee tea bags? i've always had them."

you don't mention his mispronounced word, walking forward until you are standing beside him. "no. when I stayed here a little bit ago, I finished them off."

he nods slowly, "okay. I bought more." he pours the steaming water into the cup, the liquid turning brown as the tea bag gets soaked.

"you don't like chai tea." you whisper.

he shrugs, scooping two piles of sugar into the mug. "no, but you do."

oh.

you look up at him with a million emotions, placing the rose down on the counter. mikko clears his throat, passing you the cup. "let's watch a movie."

you two end up on the couch moments later, both with your own throw blankets as the movie starts. mikko had chosen 'love, rosie' which was one of your favourite movies for valentine's day. you had told mikko this during one of your very first pillow talks and you're surprised he remembered.

"did you not have plans tonight?"

mikko looks over at the sound of your voice. you're not looking at him, eyes still on the screen while you hold you drink.

he shrugs, "nothing important."

"really?" you meet his eyes, "you were dressed up."

"just a thing with a couple of the guys," mikko says, "wasn't anything I wanted to go to anyways." he adds when he sees your worried face.

a beat passes.

"this movie reminds me of you."

your brows raise, "because I told you i liked it?"

mikko ponders momentarily, lips pursed. then he shakes his head, "you remind me of rosie. you and her love the same way."

you're speechless in that moment, eyes wide as you look at him. mikko's head falls back against the couch cushions, what looks like a smile beginning to tug at his lips.

"anytime I miss you, I watch this movie."

then you begin to smile, following suit and leaning back into the plush cushions. "that's a really nice thing to say to me."

"Thought that after all the terrible things we've said, I better say something worth while."

by the time to movie finishes you're both laughing with one another, the movie filling a void of happiness in both of your chests. only you had cried during the wedding scene - but you always had.

the credits begin to roll when you feel mikko's eyes on the side of your face. you don't hesitate to look over at him. "what's up?"

he bites his lip, "are you going to tell me who stood you up?"

your face falls, "how did you know I got stood up?"

"harvey and jaclyn are very perspective," he hums. you just nod once, taking a slow bite of your cookie. mikko continues, "plus you looked upset when I first saw you."

another nod.

"so," mikko hums, "who stood you up?"

"I don't want to tell you."

he chuckles gently, "why not?"

you don't crack a smile and that has mikko sitting up straighter, brows furrowed as he reaches out towards you. "why not?" your nervous expression had his stomach plummeting ever so slightly. "do I know him?"

you sigh, "yeah, but - "

"tell me."

"mikko, I don't want to start anything-"

"tell me who."

"seriously, you can't do any-"

"y/n." mikko warns.

you exhale deeply, hands falling down to your lap so you can fiddle. you don't look at him when you say, "it was ross."

the next morning at practice, mikko cross checks ross colton into the boards, definitely harder than necessary for a practice drill.

when ross turns around his face is red, "what's your problem dude?!"

mikko leans down slightly, "apologize for standing y/n up or a cross check will be the least of your worries."

ross scoffs, pushing off of mikko's chest, mumbling a 'yeah, whatever' on his way past.

mikko was fuming. if ross wasn't his teammate he would've smashed his face into the ice as soon as he stepped out. to ask his ex out in his apartment to then stand her up on valentine's day...mikko couldn't think about that or he would chase ross down.

—

it's after 10 when mikko gets home from his game, exhausted from the hard battle with the bruins. he is still wearing his suit, minus the tie, while he fills a cup with orange juice.

the avs lost, which was always frustrating. that combined with the ross thing was putting the blonde in a very sour mood. he chugs his drink in three gulps.

there's a soft knock on his door as he rinses the dish. he makes his way over, brows furrowed with annoyance at being bothered so late. he pulls open the door.

you stand in the hall, "did you say something to ross?"

mikko sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "listen..."

"I told you not to say anything." you show him your phone, the screen displaying the very brief chat between you and ross.

mikko frowns, taking your cell.

ross colton

i know standing you up was shitty

but tell your guard dog to back

the hell off

y/n

what?

ross colton

mikko. he fucking checked me

and told me to apologize or whatever

y/n

I didn't want...

mikko doesn't read the rest, scoffing as he gives you your phone back. "he's a dick," he muses, "I told him to say sorry to you, not treat you like a child."

you shove your phone in your jeans back pocket, "mikko, I didn't want you to say anything. the last thing I wanted was to put you in an awkward spot. this is why I didn't want to tell you-"

he leans against his door frame, arms crossed. "even if you didn't tell me who it was, i would've found out."

"mikko," you sigh, frustrated.

"if you think I wasn't going to say anything after he stood you up...you don't know me very well. nobody should treat you that way, y/n. you deserve more than that. better than that.."

your shoulders deflate, "stop saying things that..." you stop yourself, bottom lip coming between your teeth.

mikko gulps, pushing off the doorway. "stop what?"

your eyes bore into his, hesitant but desperate all at the same time. "stop saying things that make me want to kiss you."

mikko feels himself get warm, stomach swooping with nerves he hasn't felt since he met you. he takes ahold of your hand, pulling you into his apartment by the tips of your fingers. you go willingly, stumbling forward until you can push the door shut. mikko holds your gaze the entire time, pushing your body against the now closed door.

you tilt your head up so you can look at him properly. he's still gripping your hands, thumb running along your knuckles in a way that's so gentle and familiar it had your knees feeling weak.

a hoarse whisper, "kiss me." mikko squeezes your hands three times quickly and licks his lips, "please."

you don't need to be told again, pushing up on the balls of your feet until you're close to his face. mikko leans down just enough so you can press your lips against his.

his brows pull together, enchanted by the soft press of your mouth on his. you pull back after 5 seconds. mikko's eyes flutter open just as yours do, chests tight as you stare at one another.

just as you go to drop down again, mikko's hands are on you, one arm gripping your back to pull you up against his abdomen and chest, holding you to him. his other hands finds your face, just as both your hands grab his shoulder and neck and then you're devouring each other.

the kiss is passionate, full of heat and longing for what once was. months upon months of not having one another all boiling down into this heated exchange.

his hand is hot on your face, an all so familiar feeling that has you reeling with anticipation. the thought has you smiling into the kiss, mikko following suit. you're placed back to the ground and mikko is bringing you over to his couch, not once stopping the clash of teeth and lips you're both locked in.

he spins you around so that the back of your legs hit the couch cushions. the feeling has you dropping down, breaking the kiss as you fall into the plush cushions. mikko towers over you with a gentle smile. "you're so beautiful." then he's dropping to his knees infront of you, grabbing your legs to pull you to the edge of the couch.

you squeal, legs falling open to cage him in. using your hands, you push off his black suit jacket, the expensive item falling to the floor beside him. you smirk when his biceps flex underneath the tight material of his dress shirt. "I need you so bad, mikko."

he groans quietly. his hands dart up and pop open the button of your jeans, quickly tugging down the zipper. you help him when he moves to tug the denim down, lifting your butt off the couch so he can pull them away, soon joining his suit jacket.

mikko pushes your legs further apart, placing wet kisses against your thighs. he starts at your knee cap, slowly making his way down to your core.

he has one hand wrapped around the thigh he's kissing, and his other hand reaches forward, tugging your underwear to the side until you're exposed.

the air against your core has you whining, bucking your hips up. mikko smirks at the sight, "where do you need me, kulta?”

you moan at his native tongue, head rolling back. mikko wrapping your other leg in his arm has you looking back down at him, lip between your teeth. he's looking at you with raised brows, so close to where you want him.

"I need you on my pussy, mikko, please."

mikko has always been a good man, you think. because after your first beg he dives in, licking a heavy strip up your folds until his tongue reaches your clit, gently rubbing the sentive nub.

you moan loudly, your hand reaching out to grab ahold of his curls. you're thankful that he's started to grow out his start of the season buzz cut, because in this moment you'd never been happier to tug and pull his blonde locks.

he sucks oh so perfectly on your clit, and you think you could cum already. he pulls off with a pop, his long thick fingers immediately taking over and plunging into your hole, slowly pumping in and out.

your mouth falls open as he looks into your eyes, "you taste so good - better than I remember."

he continues pumping his digits into your warmth. using his other hand he pushes up to your face, capturing your lips in a messy kiss. the taste of yourself combined with his fingers and sloppy kiss have you cumming.

you groan loudly into his mouth, legs shaking as he works your through your orgasim. "fuck," you heave, head falling back. "you're so good at that"

"yeah?" mikko teases with a smirk.

your fingers start fiddling with his buttons, "yeah." you confirm. "you're wearing too many clothes."

you drag his dress shirt down his arms, gasping as more and more skin is revealed. he looks better shirtless than you remembered.

"so are you," mikko mumbles, clearly not bothered by the way you're ogling his arms and abdomen. he rips off your oversized t-shirt, leaving you completely bare. "no bra?" he smirks.

"no," you giggle, "i was getting ready for bed...oh."  mikko attaches to one of your nipples, sucking on the bud until it becomes painfully hard.

he switches to your other boob, his hand wasting to time groping the unattended nipple.

"mikko, I wanna...please I need you inside me."

he release your boob and nods at you, eyes glazed over. "fuck...yeah, lemme..." mikko stands up, grabbing your hands so you're also at full height. his hands start fiddling with his dress pants, eyes burning into your bright ones as he does. you smile slowly, your own fingers joining in helping him take off his pants.

he finally gets them off, pushing them down his legs until they fall around his ankles. you blink slowly, watching the way his boxers strain to contain his hard dick. you reach forward, palming him through his boxers until he moans, eyes downcast to watch you stroke him over his underwear.

"take these off." you whisper, locking eyes with him through your lashes.

he swears, waisting no time in pushing down the last article of clothing that stands between you.

you smile gently, hands running up his strong chest until you reach his neck. mikko reaches down, connecting your lips in another desperate kiss. he missed you so much, he could kiss you for the rest of the night and be satisfied with only your lips.

your hands drag back down his collarbones, down his pecks until they rest over his nipples. he shivers at your touch until you're giggling, pulling away from the kiss.

mikko's hand slips between your bodies, making its way between your legs until he finds your core, still dripping with your release.

as he's gathering your slick you groan, gripping his bicep to keep yourself upright. "where do you want me?"

mikko just might melt. he slicks up his cock, pumping it slowly. "fuck, kulta, on your back. I need to see you."

your stomach swoops. you get back to the couch, dropping onto your back infront of him. automatically your legs fall open, making room for the 6"4 winger.

mikko wastes no time climbing on top of you, slotting between your thighs just like he used to. "you ready?" he asks you, still fisting himself, the tip of his dick pressing against you.

you nod, hands holding onto his broad shoulders. "yes, fuck, please."

with that, mikko lines up with your entrance and wastes no time pushing into you. in sync you both moan, eyes fluttering closed at the familiar sensation.

he begins thrusting, the hand that was previously pumping himself grabbing ahold of your thigh, hauling it over his hip until you can wrap your calf around his lower back.

"you feel so right...so good." mikko huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. he trails his lips down your face until they get to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

'you feel so right'

you could cry at that, because it did. you missed him so much that you couldn't believe what was currently happening. mikko's thrusts become harder, sending you up the couch in a way that so hot - you're moaning loudly.

"mikko..." I love you.

"I know, fuck." he grunts, his eyes flickering down to where your bodies connect.

but he doesn't know, you think. you feel a tear slip out of your eye and you turn your head, trying to ignore your brain and let your body go back into its euphoric state.

it's not hard when mikko is quite literally splitting you in half, thrusting in a way that's so deep it has you tightening around him. "I think i'm close." you rasp, meeting his blue eyes once again.

he was already watching you, mouth hung open as he breaths heavily. "you gunna cum on my cock?"

you nod, "yeah."

"cum on me," he moans. your eyes squeeze shut, your walls clamping down on his dick as you hit your peak, releasing all over him.

you moan once again, body falling flat against the couch cushions. mikko's thrusts increase speed, spluttering slightly as he chases his own release.

"i'm gunna cum here, m'kay?" he presses his free hands against the bulge in your lower stomach. it has you nodding, moaning quietly.

it's only three sharp thrusts later until he pulls out of your entrance, rubbing his dick over your stomach as his cum shoots hot and sticky over you. he grunts loudly, pumping his dick a few times until all of his seed is on you.

"fuck." he moans.

"yeah," you rasp.

mikko's eyes flicker up to meet yours and he smiles softly. he crawls back up your body, and just when you think he's going to kiss you again, he leans over the side of the couch to grab his suit jacket. he uses the material to wipe up a majority of his cum.

"isn't that expensive?" you muse.

he shrugs, balling up the fabric and tossing it near the bar stools. "i'll get it dry cleaned."

you smile very briefly, "not worried about them seeing your cum all over it?"

he cracks a smile, "maybe i'll just throw it out."

his eyes flicker down to your plump lips and you feel yourself flush. he leans in, eyes fluttering a few times. then he's pulling away, clearing his throat. "do you work tomorrow? you should probably get some sleep, no?"

you swallow thickly, sitting up. "yeah, it's probably late." you didn't work tomorrow, but facing the embarrassment of being kicked out after a hook up was not something you needed right now.

mikko knaws his lip, "okay, yeah...yeah, i've got practice tomorrow."

"okay," you hum, busying yourself by throwing your clothes back on. you curse yourself for having jeans on, having to jump slightly to pull them over your uncomfortably wet underwear. "i'll see you around, right?"

"of course," mikko hums, "neighbours and all."

you let yourself out, mikko watching your back with a frown.

when you get into your own apartment, nothing can stop the sobs that rips from your chest.

__

you hadn't seen mikko all day. you heard him leave for practice around 7, and he returned a couple hours after that.

you had moped around your apartment all day, nothing but guilt of the day prior and regret for not confessing weighing heavy on your chest.

you had called melissa earlier in the day, already crying before she picked up. you had vented about your feelings, and what happened the night before and how you couldn't just be another hook up for mikko. instead of an 'I told you so' from your friend, she was so supportive. this time in a much lighter sense, she suggested you talk to him and just lay your heart out there - talk about everything.

"if he's not the one, then you telling him won't change anything. but if there's something there...it will be worth it."

—

three days has passed and you still hadn't seen mikko - not in the elevator, not in the hallway or lobby. he hasn't reached out and it sort of had you feeling angry. you're not in high school - you were grown adults. and sure, even if he didn't want you the way you wanted him, he should have the decency to tell you. not repeat the whole hating game that you had already gone through.

the avalanche didn't have a game today, you had checked. you hadn't even heard mikko leave for any sort of practice or team thing - he must've had an off day.

you were ready to talk. you wanted to know why all those months ago he blew you off and started hating you. you wanted to know what went wrong. you needed to know if you were just a booty call.

so you matched over there, placing three heavy knocks on the white apartment door that belonged to mikko rantanen.

a beat later the door is pulled open. he's wearing a long sleeve team branded shirt and sweatpants. at the sight of you his face changes, brows pulling together in what seems to be confusion.

"6 months ago...why did you stop talking to me?"

he pales, "what?"

you sigh heavily, "why when after somebody said we'd make a cute couple...why did you turn on me. why did you start hating me?"

he stands up straighter, shoulders back. "what? I didn't turn on you...I was respecting you if anything."

"respecting me?" you bite out, "mikko you did anything but respect me."

"that's not true," he says, "I wanted it to work out but you changed...in the elevator that night-"

you breath a laugh, "that's not true! I didn't change - I loved you the entire time!"

his face falls and he takes a step back, "what?"

"god mikko," you laugh, "I was just respecting the stupid arrangement. the whole friends with benefits thing we had. but I loved you...god, I loved you so much. and then when we fought in the elevator...you blew me off just at the thought of being with me - being in a relationship....you broke me. and then you started picking fights and being an asshole so I fought back! because I wasn't going to let you continue to stomp on my heart without doing anything about it."

he runs a hand over his face, "are you being serious?"

you hands fall to your sides and you feel your eyes welling up with tears. "the sex was a mistake mikko. if all you want is sex...I can't do that with you. I thought maybe you felt something for me - a couple nights ago I..." you take a shaky breath, "mikko, I love you."

he takes a step towards you, a frown tugging on lips. "that night in the elevator...I thought that you didn't want me anymore. I only started being angry with you when I thought you hated me. i've never hated you, y/n, never. I thought you only wanted sex."

"what?" you whisper. at some point during your confession you had stepped into his apartment. the door remained open behind you so mikko reached forward, pushing the door closed gently. you watch him the entire time.

"I only argued with you because it was the only way I got to talk to you after we ended our relationship. I only got mad at you because I couldn't have you anymore. I only got jealous because I didn't think any guy was worthy of you or your time - and there not! you're so amazing."

"mikko-"

"a couple days ago, when he had sex again...it felt so right. the entire time I was so happy just to be with you again I couldn't bare the thought of being just a hook-up so I pretend it was more."

you sniffle, tears falling down your cheeks. "we were really bad at communicating huh?"

he takes another step towards you, "I've kept a box of chee tea in my cabinet since i met you and i've kept your chocolate cookies in there as well. I watch love, rosie every night and I cry at the wedding scene. there's a picture of us still up in my room. I've never not wanted you in every way humanly possible."

mikko grabs a hold of your face, tilting your head back until your eyes meet. "do you remember when we went to the grocery store together that one time? and we got the tea?"

you nod.

"that was the moment I fell in love with you."

you stomach swoops and your mouth goes dry.

mikko's lips curl gently, "and do you remember when you had to stay here with me after your ceiling fell?"

another nod.

"that's when I realized i'd never stop loving you...and I haven't. i'm in love with you. and i'm so sorry for not telling you before, i'm sorry for pulling away from you all those months ago. i'm sorry."

"im sorry too," you whisper, "I should've just talked to you." you laugh gently, "melissa told me I should've."

he laughs too, "gabe told me the same thing."

"maybe we should've listened to them."

mikko smirks all slow and hot and you blush. "yeah, we should've." mikko's thumb rubs your lower lip, tracing the outline gently. "I want you to be with me. all the damn time."

"I want that too," you smile, gripping mikko's wrists by your face. "now, please kiss me."

mikko smiles, leaning down and pressing a long kiss to your lips. he never planned on stopping.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[leafsbabe]

how Ross Colton is like in bed

what Ross Colton is like in bed:

- he’s a tease

- likes to get you all hot and bothered and then pull away before doing it all over again

- wouldn’t necessarily fuck in public but he’d definitely start things in public

- getting handsy and whispering dirty things in your ear

- he got a talented tongue but he’s lazy

- will just tell you to sit on his face if you want him to eat you out

- but he will also wind his arms around your legs so that he can pull you closer and you don’t have a chance to escape his mouth

- when you’re blowing him he’s always so vocal

- his hands will just tangle in your hair but he doesn’t push your head or fuck your face unless you tell him to

- Colton is not picky when it comes to positions

- but he has a soft spot for doggy

- can get a little rough in bed but never to the point of hurting you or leaving marks beyond some hickeys or his handprint on your ass

- you might be sore the next day but he tries his best to take care of you

- might spank you but it’s not something he does every time you fuck

- can go more than one round but he mostly just likes to get you off one or two times before he fucks you

- if you allow him to he loves to come inside of you

- just watch his come leak out of you and maybe finger it back in just so none of his hard work gets lost

- Ross absolutely loves cuddling after sex

- he just enjoys the contact

- he’s the little spoon

his dick:

- pretty average width

- above average length though

the experience:

8.5/10

[ivyglow]

okay giving ross a blowjob so like imagine him strong the game winning goal and you send him a text that reads "you better be ready" or something along those lines and and he's all excited when he comes gets home and hw opens the bedroom door to find you in his jersey and lace black panties and you can just see his eyes go from all bright and happy to all of a sudden lust filled and dark. but you slowly walk over to him and palming him over his suit and that's what gets him. but you lead him over to the edge of the bed and just whisper "sit still" all quietly and breathlessly in his ear and home boy nearly busts right there. but you start by pulling his belt off really really slow and just looking him dead in the eye. and when you get him out of his pants and boxers you watch as his hard length slaps against his stomach and you lean lick from the bottom all the way to the tip and just place a very gentle and light kiss right where bis pre cum is sitting and your doing this all the while looking him in the eye. then you get him a moaning and moving mess on the end of the bed because of how deep your taking him and how wet your making him. then suddenly he blurts out "im gonna cum baby" while he's barred to the halt in your mouth and then he shoots his load all down your through and you swallow it all and just slowly kisses from the inside of his thighs up to him face and just say "good game baby" and he nearly melts right there. (sorry if this isn't the bet lmao)

*me going to sleep rn so I can dream about this scenario*

first, I love the idea of big ass man becoming a moaning mess, and second, to add: idk which vibes I get from him yet, but I think he would definitely either stroke your neck/jawline or hold your hair delicately pushing deeper inside your mouth. He would moan even louder once he notices you just swallowed all his cum

[luvmmarner]

TAMPA BAY LIGHTNING

This is the list of ONLY the Tampa Bay Lightning players' imagines/fics.

✶ = smut

♡ = fluff

✰ = angst

ANTHONY CIRELLI ➮ i hate you not ✶ together ROSS COLTON (coming soon)

[cellythefloshie]

;; The Morning After The Honey Magnolia Collection

Summary: The morning after you and Ross hook up the first time you struggle to do the impossible: You have to hide it from your parents. And that's easier said than done when his mother finds evidence of a girl having been in his room. Read the Honey Magnolia Collection. Notes: “you” was written as an athlete (softball) recovering from an undisclosed injury that needed surgery to recover from, it left a scar.  Kinks & TW: stepcest, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, trying not to get caught sex. Word Count: 4015

Waking up in the morning wasn’t easy. Not during your recovery, and especially not after the night you had. You had been up too late. The early hours of the morning when you had crept back into your room feeling more like minutes than 4 hours of sleep ago as you lay sprawled out on your bed in nothing more than an old t-shirt. It was all you had pulled on after your walk of shame from Ross’ room down the hall. The lightweight fabric was enough to keep you covered if someone were to show up unexpectedly at your door, but best of all, it wasn’t heavy against the marks he had left on some of the most intimate parts of your body. 

You could feel the ache of them as you rolled out of bed and every step you took sent a quake through your breasts as you moved for a laundry basket of clean laundry you had yet to put away. You sorted through it by the fist full, pushing aside anything that would be too revealing for the breakfast table, and quickly settled on a sundress but made sure to tug a crewneck sweatshirt over top. The outfit wasn’t making any fashion statements with the look, and you were surely going to be a sweaty mess, but it covered up everything you wouldn’t have an explanation for. 

The marks were also the reason you wore your head down and even put makeup on the worst of them, even though you knew you were going to shower after breakfast. You were going to do anything to make sure no one could even think to question anything. 

That was easier said than done as you left the secrecy of your bedroom. You could conceal every inch of your skin if you wanted to, but there was no hiding the just-been-fucked confidence you always carried after a hookup. There was a bit of a hop in your step, and a smile constantly tugged at the corner of your lips as you made your descent down into the foyer. Worst of all, you felt rested for the first time in months and Ross’ mom noticed. 

“You’re cheery this morning,” she greeted you from the foot of the stairs, an empty laundry basket tucked under her arm as she prepared to go about her morning chores. “And awake before noon.”

“I know, weird, right?” you wrinkled your nose at her playfully, “must be all the sun I’ve been getting, all the rest.” You thought out loud with a shrug. 

But she wasn’t looking for an explanation. She was just happy to see you out of bed. “I’m going to be putting a load of laundry in. Do you have anything that needs to be washed?”

“No, I’m good. I still have to put my last load away, thanks though,” you smiled, making sure she knew that you appreciated what she did. You weren’t her daughter, but she treated you like one. 

Which made it all the more bittersweet as you looked to the right, through the archway, and to the living room. The television was on, but silent, the screen faded into that continue watching? message that blanket over the latest Netflix binge. He must have been up later than you had been, or at the very least he wanted to make it look like he was as he lay sprawled up on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt and nothing more to cover him than a throw blanket. He looked at peace as he lay there, his face soft, though you were sure he would have been more comfortable if he had slept in his bed. It left you feeling guilty, so much so that you thought about waking it to apologize. 

Instead, you let him rest. 

Retreating into the kitchen, you found the stool that you had claimed as your own since you were a teenager and smiled up at your dad as he worked at breakfast. He didn’t do much more than glance when he heard the stool drag across the floor before his focus returned to the scrambled eggs and bacon on the stove, but it wasn’t long until he was doing a double take. 

“My daughter, up this early? I must be dreaming,” he quipped, a bit of a laugh in his voice. 

“Ha, ha,” you forced out your mock laughter, “Very funny, Dad.”

“You sleep well?” He asked, the early morning small talk almost leaving you groaning. Any other morning, you would have been able to tolerate it. But the morning after sleeping with your stepbrother was not the morning you wanted to talk about how great you slept. 

“Yeah, great actually,” you said enough to satisfy him as nerves shot through you and you could sit still. Pushing up from your stool, you moved to the fridge and searched for something to drink. You hid yourself behind the fridge doors, carrying out the awkward-for-you conversation without looking back at him. 

Trying to distract yourself from the uneasy feeling in your stomach left your stomach heavy and left you unaware of what was going on behind you until the harsh sound of utensils being dropped behind you left you jumping back from the fridge. Your neck snapped toward the clamor and your eyes fell on your father and Kelly as they stood together, off to the side of the kitchen. They huddled around the laundry basket, looking down, and you watched as your father’s face turned a bold shade of red. He reached down into the laundry basket, and then he was gone - marching off into the living room. 

“Daddy?” you croaked out, your stomach sinking as you followed his stride. Just what had Kelly found while gathering the laundry? And why did not knowing leave you feeling on the verge of vomiting? 

Freezing in the doorway, you watched as your father pulled the blanket from Ross’s sleeping form. Then the pillow from beneath his head, sending it falling to the couch cushion with the gentle force being just enough to rouse Ross from his sleep. But your father didn’t wait for the tiredness to leave Ross’ eyes before he was shouting. 

“What did we say when you came home for the summer?” Your father’s tone was hard, disgusted, as Ross stared up at him with his eyes still heavy with sleep. “What was the one rule you agreed to?”

He was met by silence. That only angered him more, but it finally revealed just what your father was so upset about. From his hand, he threw the familiar glossy condom wrapper down onto the coffee table that rested between them. Then, his voice filled the living room with its booming authority, “No sneaking girls into the goddamn house!”

Hearing those words should have put you at ease, but you could still feel the knot in your stomach and the muscles in your shoulder grew tense as your father reprimanded Ross like some kind of child out for something that didn’t happen. He hadn’t snuck anyone into the house. But you had snuck into his room, and that left you feeling guilty. But not for what happened. You didn’t regret a single second of it. You just felt bad that he was taking the heat for it, but there was no telling the hell you both would be put through if your father found out what happened. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him in fear that if you looked at Ross the wrong way, everyone would know, but it was so very uncharacteristic of you to stand there in silence. You needed to chirp him for the mess he had gotten himself into. 

“We don’t need your puck bunny sluts coming around here, Ross,” the words that would have once given you so much satisfaction to say, felt almost unnatural leaving your lips. 

But it worked because Ross was looking at you with a slack-jawed annoyance that was the very definition of your relationship with him and your father was quick to point a finger your way. 

“He doesn’t need to hear it from you too,” his firmness remained, even as he spoke to you. But you were only his focus for a moment before his attention returned to Ross. 

“You won’t be doing this again,” your dad pointed his finger at him as if Ross was a small child, and he sat there like one, knowing all too well that fighting your father on this could expose something far worse. “Take her to a goddamn hotel or-” your father let out a long groan, his hand raising to rub over his face before he muttered, “At least you got the brain to use a fucking condom.”

That was the sentence that ended the one-sided argument that Ross hadn’t even tried to combat. He knew better than to go toe to toe with your father over that. But if he had, he would have tried to deny it. Your father would have fought him harder. And it would have been so easy for the family to be sent into turmoil with the simple fact that he hadn’t fucked some random puck bunny, but that the girl he was fucking was you. 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you gathered around the kitchen island for breakfast. The four of you ate in an awkward silence, with Rob joining you halfway through the meal before he was out the door. And that left the four of you in silence. There was nothing but the sound of forks scraping against glass plates and the occasional frustrated huff from across the table as your father would look from you to Ross who sat beside you with his neck craned down to focus on nothing but the food on his plate. Defeated. 

You wanted to apologize to him for getting him into this mess, but you couldn’t. Not with his mother and your father still at the table. Not when an apology would bring to light what really happened. So, you did the only thing you thought you could to put him at ease. You propped your heel against the rung of the barstool at the counter and let your leg fall to the side slowly. Casually, your bare knee came to rest against his leg. 

Ross didn’t flinch away. Not even as your father got up from the kitchen island and excused himself from breakfast. He had work to do in his office, and his absence eased the tension in the room. 

With just Ross and Kelly there, you brought yourself to look up at him, your eyes almost pleading with their silent apology as his mom reached out to take your empty plate. 

“No, Mom, I got it.” Ross interrupted her reach, his hand reaching and taking your plate before her fingers could meet it. “I’ll clean up after breakfast, it’s the least I can do, really.”

Looking up from how his hand wrapped around the edge of your plate, you took in his mother’s features and how they softened at his words. The plates she held in her hand, she put down at the end of the kitchen island and rounded the corner to wrap her arms around her son before placing a kiss on the dark hair that contrasted her blonde. Then she muttered something to him, something you couldn’t quite hear. You weren’t sure if it was an apology on behalf of your father’s actions or an apology of her own for how things escalated further than she had intended to. But when they parted they exchanged soft smiles and Ross cleaned up the kitchen, leaving nothing but his warm behind on your bare leg. And Kelly’s attention fell to you. 

“I’m going to spend my day down on the beach. Did you want to come with me, and get some sun?” Kelly offered. 

On any other day, you would have accepted, but you wouldn’t be able to get away with wearing your sweater in the July heat. You needed its coverage to hide the marks her son’s mouth had left on her body, and there was no bathing suit in your closet that would even come close to covering anything. So you declined. 

“I’m just going to stay in today. I think I got too much sun by the pool yesterday,” was your quick excuse, and she required nothing more from you. Kelly was good like that. She never did. 

“I’ll meet you down there when I’m done here,” Ross assured his mother, drawing your eyes to him for but a moment before you were abandoning your stool in the kitchen and going upstairs. 

You would have to save your apology for later. 

He would spend his day out on the beach with his mother, away from you and the new tensions you tried to fight and you would fall back into your usual routine. Starting with a shower. You made a quick pit stop in your room to grab your towel and toiletries before moving back down the hallway to the bathroom that was wedged in between your father’s office and your bedroom. 

You piled your things on the counter around the sink and turned on the water as a warning. Anyone who needed that bathroom needed to use it now or get stuck waiting. When there were no quick footsteps along the hall, you moved to close the bathroom door, only to be met with the hollow sound of a palm meeting the surface of the door. 

Ross had snuck his way up the grand staircase and up to the bathroom without you hearing him coming, and he pushed his way into the bathroom so effortlessly it had you stepping back until you stood with your back against the bathroom counter. From there, with your jaw slacked and your hands gripping at the hem of your sweater, you watched as he shut the door carefully and engaged the lock behind him, trapping you inside the washroom with him. 

“What are you doing?” Your eyes went wide, “Dad’s office-”

“Is right on the other side of this wall,” he whispered back, knowingly, his words laced with his devilish smile. It was with that smile you knew he wasn’t there to use the washroom or to grab anything. He was there solely because that was where you were. Your father being in the next room only added to Ross’ satisfaction as he came to stand in front of you at the bathroom sink. And you could only stand there frozen, slack-jawed in shock as his hands found the smooth skin of your thighs and pushed up the skirt of your dress until his fingers found the flimsy fabric of your panties. It only took a single finger to drag them down your thighs, and once he hit your knees, Ross dropped the panties to rest around your ankles. Then his touch left your body and went to the waist of his sweatpants, tugging them down just enough for his already hard cock to spring free. 

A quivering breath coursed through you, your teeth biting down so hard on your bottom lip that it throbbed as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You going to be a good little slut for me?”

In an instant, as his breath washed over the shell of your ear and the skin of your cheek, your skin blazed hot. If it were any other man saying that to you, you might have slapped them. But you knew why Ross was saying it. You had fed the word right to him in the living room, and it was exactly what defined you as you hoisted yourself up onto the counter and felt the cold porcelain sink against the back of your thighs. 

The hot water clouded the bathroom with steam. The thick, hot air choking at your throat, leaving your breaths desperate as your hands tugged up the flimsy fabric of your sundress for him. And your skin perspired. It was a glistening shimmer of sweat that dripped down the angles of your body before he could even touch you. It left you tugging at your sweatshirt, drawing it away from the curves of your body and up over your head and bearing the marks of Ross’ mouth that mark their path down your neck and to your cleavage before disappearing beneath the fabric of your dress. 

You had almost expected Ross’ mouth to find the skin that he had claimed as his, but instead, he was leaning in, his lips finding yours to muffle the moans that were inevitably going to slip from your lips as his hands found your thighs and guided them open wide. The soft cotton of his sweatpants dragged against your inner thighs and paired with the firm grasp of his large hands around your flesh as teeth hit teeth. 

The first moan slipped up your throat and was swallowed up by his lips as a single hand left your thighs and slipped away. For a moment you didn’t know where it went, but then you felt it: the gentle stroke of the head of his cock against your core. With the careful guidance of his hand, he guided the tip of his length up and down from your core to your clit and back down again. Over and over until your core was slick with your arousal, and that same arousal was dripping down his cock. Then, you felt the pressure of his cock, the very tip of him splitting your walls and leaving you whimpering as his mouth left your lips and found your ear once more. 

“You gotta be a good girl and be nice and quiet for me,” he told you, his voice a low growl in your ear, barely heard over the drumming of the water against the bottom of the tub, “you saw how angry your dad got this morning. You don’t want to make him mad, do you?” 

You answered him with a simple shake of your head, your hair falling into your face at the force. If your father caught you, the two of you would be as good as dead. And that was the very reason Ross was in there with you. Ross wanted to fuck you out of spite for your father. It should have angered you, but it only excited you further. Especially when you knew your father was working at the desk just on the other side of the wall. 

His lips split into a smile as he muttered simple praise in your ear. His face was so close to your neck, you were left craning your neck out hoping he would kiss it, but Ross was all too caught up in your sweet cunt, your walls welcoming his cock in raw. You knew it was dumb to let him fuck you like that. Without protection. But this way, there would be nothing left for your father to find. No evidence that Ross had fucked you there in the bathroom. Nothing for your father to get mad at. 

And so you encouraged Ross, a soft, “You feel so good,” whispered in his ear as your foot ran up the back of his leg to draw him in as deep as you could take him. And that was all you allowed yourself to say. You knew that if you said anything else, moans would follow your words. You had to hold back or risk having your father overhear you through the thin bathroom wall. He might have overhead you already if it wasn’t for the downpour of hot water from the showerhead. And for that, you were thankful. Any soft sound that left your lips joined the gentle, rhythmic drum of water or muffled against Ross’ skin or mouth or hair as he left you reeling on the countertop. 

There was a certain pleasure that you felt when he fucked you like this. With nothing keeping him from you. Just flesh on flesh, two bodies both yearning, a desperate becoming one with each powerful, uneven thrust that left Ross’ hips bucking into yours and his thighs hitting the countertop. It left your legs winding around the back of your thighs, your core aching so close to your release that you didn’t know what to do with your limbs. You wanted so desperately just to coil around him. To wrap your arms and legs around him and feel the strength of his hockey-toned body and leave him to feel as your walls gripped around him. But that would be too great of a risk. 

Instead, your hands found the edge of the countertop, your knuckles paling as you gripped at it, and your legs fell away from him as your cunt throbbed with its pleasure. It left you whining, your teeth biting down so hard on your lower lip you thought it might bleed - and you only bit it harder as Ross let out a soft groan, his sweet praise in your ear as he relished in the feeling of you coming on his cock. 

Then, with a ghost of a moan, came his rushed warning, “I’m going to cum.”

His words sent your stomach into your throat and your body went cold. You didn’t exactly plan with him where he was going to cum. It left your heart pounding in your chest, almost feeling as if you were going to choke on your own tongue before he pulled away from you so quickly that there was a rush of cold air around your body. Then, with his hands stroking his own cock, Ross sent himself over the very edge of his climax and unloaded onto the angles of your pelvis and the thin fabric of your sun dress. 

You could feel the heated webs of his release as they threatened to drip down over your clit and soaked through your dress to be felt against your skin. You hated it when it got on your clothes. It was always so hard to wash out without doing a load of laundry properly and it wasn’t easy to hide from his mother. It sent a look of disdain over your features, and that wasn’t easy to hide from Ross, who stood smiling as he remained standing between your legs. 

“What?” there was a bit of a laugh in his words as he spoke, “it was that, or cum inside you…”

Just the thought sends a shiver through your body from your spine to your toes, and it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Oh, you would like that. Wouldn’t you?”

And before you could answer, his hands were on your body again, one hand holding your thigh firm to the counter to keep you from slipping away and the other dipping between your legs. With two fingers, he found your sensitive clit and teased it slowly, gathering the cum you had yet to wipe or wash away before his fingers traveled down. Ross parted your sweet folds, dragging right down to your core before he pressed those same fingers inside, cum and all, all the while holding your wide-eyed gaze. 

And all you can do is let your mouth fall open in a ghost of a moan, your body near trembling and he let those fingers rest there buried in your heat. The mess you became in that moment left your legs trembling and Ross could only smile. 

In just under twenty-four hours, the two of you had gone from bickering by the pool to his cum inside you. You had become an absolute mess for him, and maybe he had become a mess for you, too. That, though,  he would never admit, but he would enjoy every minute of it. Luckily for the two of you, summer was just beginning and your parents had made sure they confined you both to the summer home for the duration of it. 

[coltonthelizard]

requested: connor l, o, q, r, y

L - Location

connor really digs doing it in places you might get caught. he’ll pull you into a dressing room at the mall or a stairwell at school because you just looked so hot and he couldn’t take it anymore. there’s a stairwell at school that’s basically abandoned and it has more or less become your spot. he’s got condoms stashed under the carpet

O - Oral

connor loves oral. he especially loves when you blow him since you know he’s mostly a dom and he can pull your hair and run his hands through it. but he knows exactly how to make you feel good when he’s giving you oral and he loves to drive you crazy with it

Q - Quickie

connor’s always down for a quickie. like if you’ve got twenty minutes to kill before you have to be somewhere guess what? sex. but that’s kind of what’s so special about it, that you have the kind of connection where you can just have hot giggly sex any time. most of the time you both prefer it to be longer so you can really get wild but quickies are a good time

R - Risk

you guys are super chill about trying anything even if you don’t think you’ll be into it. like you tried role playing once and you couldn’t stop laughing because connor was such a bad actor and couldn’t think of any of the right things to say. but you’ve tried out orgasm denial, anal, worship, hair pulling, switching roles, basically everything cause you’re always down to clown

Y - Yearning

this boy has the highest fucking sex drive. it’s unbelievable. his go to move is when you’re driving, he’ll have his hand on your thigh and slowly slide it up and start teasing you till you have to pull over and fuck him right there in the car. he’s got this little eyebrow raise down for certain situations that’s just like “you wanna go bang?” and he’s definitely used it at boring dinner parties he has to go to for larry

[huggybug]

MY list of guys who would fuck girls dumb (my opinion)

1) thomas bordeleau

2) josh anderson

3) brendan brisson

4) nick blankenburg

5) matthew tkachuk

6) leon draisaitl

7) cole sillinger

8) vince dunn

9) brock boeser

10) jamie oleksiak

11) ross colton

12) adam lowry

13) matty beniers

14) tyson jost

15) anthony beauvillier

my top five are a for sure but the rest of the list could use a second thought. idgaf if people judge me for this. -nick smut anon

DRAI ABSOLUTELY OMFG !!!!

mine🤭

1. matthew tkachuk

2. brendan brisson

3. matty beniers

4. nate mackinnon

5. jamie drysdale

6. mikko rantanen

7. pierre luc dubois

8. sidney crosby

9. leon draisaitl

10. ryder donovan

honorable mentions: nick blankenburg, owen power, nico hischier, nolan moyle

[ao3feed-hockey]

12 Days of Kinkmas 2022

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6GC1pcK

by CellytheFlowshie

A collection of smutty holiday-themed one-shots featuring various players from the National Hockey League.

*All chapters are cross-posted on Tumblr (cellythefloshie).

Words: 13060, Chapters: 7/12, Language: English

Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Chris Kreider, Matthew Tkachuk, Adam Lowry, Ross Colton, Brandon Carlo, Nico Hischier, Leon Draisaitl

Additional Tags: Kinkmas 2022, Smut, Holidays, Anthology, One Shot Collection, POV Second Person, POV Female Character

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6GC1pcK

[cellythefloshie]

ＩＭＡＧＩＮＥ: Trying Not to Get Caught with Ross Colton *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ honey magnolia edition ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Celly's 300 Follower Appreciation Requested by @comphy-and-cozy

-who would have thought sleeping with Ross was exactly what you needed to be able to tolerate his presence

-and not only were you just tolerating it when you sat down at dinner together

-or had to sit a little too close during a family car ride

-you wanted to be spending your time together

-which was easy to do when you were stuck in the same house for the summer

-the tough part was trying not to make the change in your behaviours too obvious

-for years you hated each other

-finally getting along would beg too many questions

-and so you tread carefully as you moved into the living room where Ross was seating on the couch flipping through Netflix

-“what are you gonna watch?”

-“don’t know yet.”

-“that one looks good”

-and he scoffed, his bright eyes raising to meet yours 

-they were soft and didn’t match the annoyance he was trying to have perceived

-“sit down then-”

-you lay out on the couch beside him with your feet closest to him as you reached for one of the throw blankets

-the two of you settled in, the movie playing out on the screen while you heard his mother working on dishes in the kitchen

-Ross was quick to complain before the movie could really start

-“your feet are practically in my lap, sit up”

-he complained, and you sat up with a pout

-but his touch kept you from straying too far

-your eyes left the screen and looked at him as he tugged at your arm

-he drew you in close a trouble-making smile on his face

-“what are you doing?” you whispered

-“com’ere” he encouraged and drew you closer so that your head was resting on his shoulder

-“your mom-”

-“if you hear her coming, just pretend you’re asleep” 

-Ross slipped his hand beneath the blanket you had wrapped yourself in and tossed you a pillow to strategically cuddle over your frame

-it was the perfect cover for his hand as it slipped down the front of your sleep shorts and into your panties

-you took in a sharp inhale as your eyes went wide

-“Ross-”

-he hushed you

-“relax, unless you want my mom to know where my hand is…”

-you gave him a stern glance as you bit down on your lower lip in restraint

-you did your best not to move too much as his fingers stroked over the plain of your pelvis and dipped down

-but you did angle your hips just enough to help his hand with the awkward angle 

-you couldn’t risk anyone seeing the subtle movement of his arm

-Ross did his best to provide any of his movements and to disgust just where his hand had ended up by assuring that he was for the most part concealed by the blanket as well

-it was with that security that his hand began to move against you with confidence

-he had quickly learned what you liked

-and he enjoyed just how quickly he could have your reeling for him

-the added challenge of going unnoticed by his mother in the next room would only make it more difficult for you

-you would have to force composure

-you couldn’t make a sound

-and you couldn’t make a mess of the couch either

-it was a cruel thing to do to you really

-but it wasn’t purely self-indulgent

-as soon as his fingers could feel you becoming wet from his touch he began to struggle

-he could already feel his cock growing hard

-it earned a low “fuck” from his own lips as she leaned in to mutter his words into your hair 

-“i’m going to fuck you so good after they go to bed-”

-his final word was broken as he heard the shuffling of feet in the kitchen

-“you need anything before I head up for the night?”

-it was the voice of his mother

-sometimes she was too damn sweet for her own good

-because she walked straight into the living room and stood alongside the couch and down at you and Ross

-and you didn’t move an inch

-you weren’t even sure if you were breathing you had stilled so quickly

-petrified was the only way you could describe what you were feeling

-as Ross had delved his fingers deep inside you one final time before he stilled

-his fingers stayed there, deep in your cunt

-soaked in your arousal

-as you lay up against him pretending to have fallen asleep

-and she must had believed it

-because she didn’t seem to pry for more

-nor was she concerned

-you could only hear the smile in her voice as he spoke, “it’s so nice that the two of you are finally trying to get along”

-you felt Ross shrug and his head tilted carefully to one side as he gave off a nonchalant nod

-“i mean, i guess she’s alright”

-you did your best not to scowl

-and instead moved the only thing you could that his mother would not notice

-you flexed your cunt around his fingers

-and he made sure you know he felt it by hooking his fingers and dragging his fingertips over that spot that could so quickly make you unravel 

-“you headed up to bed?”

-“yeah, dad too,” his mom told him and you could hear her leaning over the arm of the couch to place a kiss on the top of his head

-“grab the lights?” Ross requested simply

-and then she walked away, her footsteps fading in the distance as she turned off the lights and left the main floor in darkness

-the two of you sat silent and still in the room for a long time

-your eyes opening up just enough to watch the movie

-all the while his fingers were still teasing the walls of your cunt

-“you think they’re asleep yet?” you whispered after what felt like ages

-“no way to know for sure…”

-Ross glanced back towards the stairs

-there was no glow from the bathroom at the top of the stairs

-and the house was quiet save for the credits of the movie 

-Ross reached for the remote with his free hand and turned off the tv to leave you both in complete darkness

-it brought a level of secrecy to the room

-one that gave you both the reassurance it shouldn’t

-with everyone else in bed, you shouldn’t get caught

-“you’re still soaked…”

-he told you carefully, his fingers returning to their slow pump once more

-it left you pushing the blanket aside and reaching for the drawstring of your shorts

-they were well soaked through and you were quick to dispose of them on the floor

-your panties were quick to follow 

-you kicked them aside before Ross was easing you back to lay out on the couch

-he pushed open your legs with ease and relished in the sight of you

-he pumped his fingers inside you deliberately, assuring to hit just the right spot that left you throwing your head back into the couch cushion

-your lips parted in a silent moan

-and while the sight of your pleasure was obscured by the darkness it left him grinning wide

-leaning in, he came to hover over you

-watching as your features melted with pleasure at his hand

-Ross didn’t stop until he felt your arousal dripping down his hands and the walls of your cunt flexing around his fingers

-and while he didn’t get to fuck you

-it would have been too much of a risk

-he was satisfied

-Ross withdraw his fingers, licking them clean before he reached down for your panties and sleep shorts

-he helped ease them back onto your weak legs before tossing the blanket back on top of you

-you looked up at him confused

-you should be making your way up to bed, and instead, Ross was making himself comfortable

-you raised a brow at him slowly, your head cocking to the side

-he opened his arm to you and welcomed you in as you came to rest your head against his chest

-he held you in his arms, his cheek pressed into the crown of your head and he became lost in the scent that was uniquely you

-“if my dad catches us here in the morning…”

-“it was a really boring movie, and you were already alseep,” he claimed

-and his lips coming down to kiss your hair carefully

-together you fell asleep on the sofa

-and come morning the sunlight would creep through the curtains and you too would wake together before his mother and your father could catch you

-and it wouldn’t be the last time you and Ross would take the risk

-the two of you liked to put yourselves in compromising positions…

[cellythefloshie]

;; 12 Days of Kinkmas     Day 11 - Road Wife Holiday Special - New Years Eve

Summary: The organization throws a hell of a New Years party, but you struggle to find your place in a room full of coworkers, players and their wives - and a new years party is never complete without a new years kiss.  Notes: This oneshot is written as an independent piece and has no influence on the main plot of the Road Wife series. Featured Players: Anthony Cirelli, Mathieu Joseph, Alex Killorn (mentioned), Brayden Point, Ross Colton Kinks & TW: alcohol, excessive drinking, anxiety/depression type themes, loneliness, mentions of sex work and infidelity. Word Count: 3379

TAGLIST : @wingedwheelprxncess @mitchymainer @equallyshaw @starshine-hockey-girl  @beccaiscold @samanthasgone​

​

Unlike the holiday party, which was very much family-friendly, the Tampa Bay Lightning organization liked to go all out for New Year's Eve. They hadn’t just set up entertainment and an early dinner this time, no, they had rented a hall to ring in the new year. Complete with catering, an open bar and a semi-formal dress code you instantly felt out of place. You walked in through the doors without a date on your arm, your clutch bag held tight in your hand as the room consumed you. In an instant, you felt as if your dress was constricting around your chest - even though you had bought it specifically for the event, and the dress fit your body perfectly - and all you could do was tell yourself that the feeling would pass as you moved further into the grand room filled with strangers. 

Sure, you were more than acquainted with the players, but tonight they were accompanied by their wives. You would not be needed, nor would the wives want you around, and so you were left to the wolves. Also known as, your colleagues: the media team. The team was great, welcoming and always excited to have you tag along when they would go out to explore the cities the team was playing in during a long road trip - but you weren’t as close with them as you could be. Not when you had obligations to the team that they didn’t know about. 

As you approached the table the team greeted you with smiles, if they had any suspicions of the role you helped with the team they hid it well - hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if they all knew as the players weren’t often discrete on the plane ride from one city to the next. And you could vividly remember a time you were sure Gabby Shirley had caught you with your clothes dishevelled as you left an appointment at the back of the plane. She had only smiled at you then, and it was the same smile she was giving you now as you approached the table - but this time it was paired with a welcoming hug. 

“We were thinking you were going to bail on us!” Gabby spoke into your hair, her arms wrapped around you effortlessly, before s she pulled back and introduced you to her fiance. Then, her gaze wandered, her petite form looking around you as if someone has hidden behind you. “Where’s your date?”

You could feel your stomach sink at her words, your grip on your clutch sending your knuckles white as you forced a smile. Your words were more of a question than a statement once you found them, “I don’t have one?” 

Taking your lower lip into your mouth, chewing it slowly and smudging your lipstick, you let your gaze fall on the table of your peers and their partners. They each wore the same look, caught somewhere between awkwardness and pity as they didn’t quite know how to feel about your situation - not that you could blame them, in the moment neither did you. 

“No shame in that,” Gabby was quick to fill the silence as she found her seat at the table once more, “still so young, you have lots of time to find someone.”

As if you could taste her words, your tongue slid over the back of your teeth trying to rid your mouth of the sourness. It lingered as you tried to find just the right words to say, your gaze going astray to take in the sight of what all surrounded you, but instead of putting you at ease, it added to the reeling thoughts in your mind. Everywhere you looked you seemed to see one thing, and one thing only: one of the players and their wife or girlfriend. It stung, and not because you were jealous. No, you were never jealous of the relationship the players had with their wives. You respected it and were thankful that you had been a part of it. What you were was lonely. 

As long as your name was inked on the contract, and you held the title of Road Wife, you wouldn’t be able to maintain a real relationship with anyone. Not a player, and definitely not an outsider. You would never get to show up at a team event on somebody’s arm, and tonight you would ultimately be ringing in the new year alone. 

Forcing a smile, you settled into your seat and tried to ignore the empty seat beside you that was meant for your plus one that didn’t exist. It was then your eyes settled on your wine glass, and your smile became genuine if only for a moment for you knew that come diner service, your night was going to become much more enjoyable. 

By the time the plates of dinner and dessert were cleared, you were pleasantly buzzed. It was enough to have you content with people watching from your seat - that was until the DJ started his set. The music flooded the room and it was met with cheers, including those from your own lips. You loved dancing, and you had consumed just the right amount of wine to want to be out on the dance floor in a room full of coworkers. 

“That’s my queue,” you told your table as you drained the rest of your wine from your glass and placed it down on the tabletop beside your purse. 

Your words earned cheers of encouragement from the media team as you stood up from the table, and kicked off your heels so they sat toppled against each other beneath your chair. The walk to the dance floor was almost dreamy, maybe you were a little more than buzzed, eyes falling on you as you pushed between crowded tables. When you took to the floor there had only been a few couples to have taken to it, their dancing subtle, almost lazy - especially when it came to dancing next to you. You danced like there was nobody watching when most of the room undoubtedly had their eyes on you. You didn’t hold back - for tonight you didn’t have to. You had no obligations, and zero worries about being hungover on the flight to New York come morning. 

And apparently, neither had Tony. 

You sobered up the moment you spotted him through the crowds. He was slumped over in his seat at his assigned dining table, wearing that same dead look he had last worn back at the boat parade when he had let the alcohol get the best of him. The whole room seemed to go quiet around you as you became still, even if the party was still raging with life, and you left the dance floor behind you. Careful strides took you back to the tables and you didn’t stop until you had dropped to your knees in front of Tony. You spoke his name in a gentle voice, one that was joined by the gentle touch of your hand over his thigh. You watched as he looked down at you, his dark curls falling down into his face as he managed a smile at the sight of you. 

When he spoke your name, no matter how sweet he was trying to sound, there was no hiding how he slurred and how his breath stunk of alcohol. “Tony,” you sighed out, almost disappointed as you reached a hand out to stroke over the paled flesh of his cheek. He was so far gone, not even the pitcher of water on the table could save him. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would be ringing in the new year with his head in a toilet bowl and you were determined to be the one to take care of him. 

“We need to get you home, Tony,” you told him gently, and you watched his lips curl up at the idea of taking you home. 

“Killorn’s outside with the cab-” Mathieu speaks up from behind you, drawing your attention away from Tony for a moment. 

You offer him a thankful smile, you could always count on them to take care of each other. “Let me just grab my things and I-”

Mathieu said your name softly, offering you a hand to help you up from the floor, “you don’t have to do all this,” his words made your stomach knot and your lips parted to insist but he was quick to silence you with his own words, “you do so much for us already, and Tony’s not going to remember this night in the morning - but if he wakes up and sees that you had to spend the night taking care of him instead of being here celebrating with everyone,” Mathieu sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his closest friend, “he wouldn’t want that for you. Not when you could be here having fun with everyone,” and then his voice dropped so that only you could hear, “looking that good shouldn’t be wasted on his bedroom tonight.”

“At least let me help take him out to the cab,” you spoke out, your words desperate as Mathieu leaned in to slide an arm under and around Tony to hoist him up from his seat. 

“You don’t have shoes on,” Mathieu told you firmly, offering you a sorry look, “he’s in good hands. I’ll take good care of him.”

Knees aching against the floor where you knelt, you watched Mathieu leads Tony off and through the party with his staggered steps the only thing holding them back. You remained there, watching them as they went until they had been lost in the crowd and had fallen out of your line of sight - and suddenly the party seemed all the more overwhelming now. 

Your focus had been drawn back to reality, the music no longer backgrounds noise for your mere moment with Tony. The dance floor was crowded now and was much more intimidating than it had been when you had walked onto it fueled by the confidence only wine could have given you. With the confidence having faded, there was only one logical thing to do: Get another drink. 

The lines around the many bars stations around the hall were winding as many of the guests in attendance had migrated from the dinner tables to mingle with coworkers, friends, and family over drinks. You blended right into them, the conversations and music around you a symphony in your ears. You didn’t listen to any one thing in particular, not the lyrics of the song, or the conversations behind had in front or behind you as you shuffled forward with each passing drink order. That was until you felt the touch of a warm hand against your back and the sweet breath of words against your cheek. 

“You look stunning, darling.”

You tensed slightly as you cast a glance to the right, taking in the sight of Brayden as he stood with his hand on your lower back as if it weren’t something out of the ordinary. His dress shirt was already loose around the collar, his jacket and tie were already lost, and his hair was already falling into the shaggy mess you were used to seeing. 

“Something tells me you just didn’t want to go to the back of the line,” you teased him, taking in a slow breath to try to put your body at ease. 

Brayden smirked, his bright eyes dropping to the floor as his hand slipped down a little lower on your back to stroke over the expanse just above your ass casually. When he let his gaze rise again, he leaned in close and let his voice drop down to a whisper, “can’t a man just want to enjoy a drink with his wife?”

Your cheeks grew so hot that you were sure you were blushing and your lips parted as if to chastise him for saying something like that surrounded by people - for touching you like that when someone could so clearly see but you were rendered speechless as you came to the bar. It felt as if you were tripping over your tongue as you leaned up against the pop-up bar and ordered another glass of wine. 

Your order left Brandon scoffing as he too pressed up against the bar. He leaned up against it with one arm, his hand resting over yours so causally it almost looked like an accident as he ordered two shots of Canadian whiskey and his favored drink to take back with him to his table - but Brayden wasn’t going to retreat until you had taken the shot with him. He held it out to you with a wide grin, his gaze narrowed yet playful. 

“I shouldn’t-” You started to protest, but then your eyes settled on the deep amber alcohol in the small, disposable, plastic cup. You knew better than to mix your alcohol, but if you already planned on being hungover come morning, there really was no harm in it. “Yeah, okay. Okay, give it here.”

Your fingertips seemed to tingle as they brushed against his to secure the cup in your hold. You took it between two fingers, raising it up to him in a silent toast before bringing it to your lips and knocking it back in a single motion. As you sipped it, and Brayden sipped at his own, you held one another's gaze. The whiskey burned down your throat, and his stare sent your entire body ablaze. The feeling struck you, right through to your core and it left you choking - or maybe that was the alcohol? It left you smiling all the same as you lowered the small cup and abandoned it on a nearby cocktail table. 

Brayden reached a handout, laughing as you coughed, and pat your upper arm with an endearing touch, “atta girl.”

His touch lingered as he retracted his hand, his coy smile wavering for a moment as he heard his wife calling out to him from a nearby table. “I was supposed to be getting her a drink,” he recalled, his head shaking as he realized that it had completely slipped his mind. 

“I won't keep you,” you assured, stepping back so that you stood just out of his reach - and you smiled a little wider trying to hide how your lips threatened to falter into a frown. It was the second time you had watched someone walk away from you all evening and it sent your mind into a spiral. You hadn’t meant to be a distraction, especially with his wife in attendance. It sent your stomach sinking and your palms grew sweaty against the glass of wine in your hand. Then your skin was crawling and your chest became heavy with guilt. You needed a refuge, but it wouldn’t be found with the players, their wives or your colleagues. No, you needed a moment alone. 

You found your solace outside where night blanketed the sky and the humid air had crisp and fresh on your face. The concrete was cool beneath your bare feet, but you paid no mind to it as you took slow, pacing steps up and down the length of the patio outside the venue. Time was lost as you enjoyed the patio, your eyes fixated on the city skyline beyond and how its lights glimmered brighter than the stars in the sky - but soon even they would be outshone as the time was winding closer and closer to midnight and fireworks would soon kiss the skies. 

Sipping your wine, you settled along the railing. The winds raised goosebumps over your flesh and sent chills down your spine. It had you contemplating going back inside for your coat, but you dismissed the idea. If you were going to enjoy one thing, it was going to be the fireworks even if you have to enjoy them alone-

Breaking your thoughts was the opening and closing of the patio doors behind you. At first, you didn’t look back, expecting a group to be coming out for some air or to prepare to watch the fireworks from the patio instead of through one of the many windows - but you only heard one pair of footsteps behind you. Curious, you cast a glance back, a curtain of hair falling over half of your face as it was caught in the wind, and your eyes settle on a familiar face. 

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Ross’ voice was as soft as the night sky as he abandoned the party behind him and approached you by the railing. 

Biting your lower lip, you look back out over the city skyline, your shoulders giving off a lazy shrug in response to his question. You wanted to be able to tell him, or anyone really, how you felt - but you knew that there were only two people that would understand what you were going through: the road wife in St Louis, and the former wife of Tampa Bay. So you forced a half smile and didn’t let your eyes meet his as you heard the countdown begin inside. The new year was upon you. 

“It seemed like a good place to watch the fireworks,” you told him, but he could hear the dejection in your voice and the sigh that followed. 

Stepping forward, Ross spoke your name just loud enough to pull your eyes from the city and the skies. It was then you noticed just how close he was, and how he continued to steal the space between you. His hand reached up, stroking away the hair that had fallen over your face before his warm, gentle tough settled over your cheek. He stroked it slowly with his thumb, over the angle of your cheek and down over the length of your chin before grazing over your lip that had begun to swell oh so slightly from the own bite of your own teeth. The pad of his thumb against your lip had them falling open in the slightest of gasps, your eyes wide and glassy as they met his crystal gaze. 

“Ross,” you muttered, his thumb falling to your chin as the countdown inside grew loud, and closer to one. 

With his free hand Ross quickly found your hip, the silken fabrics of your dress wrinkling beneath his touch as he took hold of you. He drew you in with the smallest of steps until your body was flush against his, and then the countdown stuck the new year and the final breath between you was stollen and filled with a kiss. Ross’ lips descended down on you in a kiss that was far from something sweet. He was always someone who had kissed you with intent. There was not a single ounce of shyness in how his lips moved against yours with such familiarity and passion. He didn’t draw back to join in with the cheers, and neither of you flinched back as the sky was filled with the fizzling color of the fireworks. Instead, his thumb was pressing against your chin, drawing your mouth open to invite the stroke of his tongue. You near groaned at the flavors of him, a sweet mix of citrus, vanilla and vodka flooding your taste buds before he drew back, leaving you breathless. 

You stood in front of him, lips parted as you found your breath, and you watched the colors of the fireworks as their light was cast over his face. He wore that same cocky smile you had given you the very first night you had met during his rookie season as he stripped off his blazer. Reaching out, he draped it over your shoulders to keep you from the night’s breeze. You couldn’t help but  admire him for a moment. With just a single action every feeling of doubt, and loneliness had faded. A small, thankful smile blossomed over your features because of him, and you welcomed the warm touch of his hand lacing with yours. You welcomed it’s hold, giving his hand a careful squeeze, and together the two of you stood and watched as the fireworks painted the night sky.

[cellythefloshie]

;; The First Wife   Chapter Sixteen of the Road Wife Series

Table of Contents 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 11  | 12  |  13  | 14 | 15 16

Summary: Back in Tampa for a series of home games, you struggle to find a balance between your work life and the life you had before. Featured Players: Anthony Cirelli, Ross Colton, Pat Maroon Kinks & Triggers: there is no smut in this chapter. Mentions of marking/lingering hickeys, and unprovoked - nonconsensual ass-smacking. Word Count: 9.5k+

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @equallyshaw , @charles11700 , @swissboyhisch , @wingedwheelprxncess , @luvmmarner, @fandomrejects , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xcicix , @starshine-hockey-girl , @cixrosie

After a single game on the road in Dallas, the Bolts were to play a series of games at home, and for that, you couldn’t be more thankful. Your one night in Dallas had been so eventful that you needed the time to recover. And after two strong victories over the Blackhawks and a back-to-back game, the boys did too. So, you were all given the morning off. There was no morning skate to report to, and since you were home, no appointments to keep. It was a rare day for you to take the day for yourself. 

Your alarm clock didn’t go off until nine. Sleeping in just a little to make up for the late nights you had grown accustomed to. Yet, in your slumber, you dreamt of work. You dreamt of Tony. You dreamt of Ross. It left you shuddering as you swore you could feel the ghost of their touch on your body. Shaking off the feeling, you dressed in the new workout gear you had bought after you were suddenly in desperate need of a new wardrobe.

Thanks Yanni.

You pulled on a pair of sneakers, grabbed your keys, and left out the front door. It was only in the reflection of your apartment elevator that you regretted leaving in such a hurry. When you saw them, you were putting your hair up, the series of marks along your neck that Ross had left there while in Dallas. It had been five days, and while they weren’t so prominent, they still lingered. Reaching the main floor, you made a mental note to cover them with some concealer later, but first, you would finish a run. 

You hadn’t always been a runner, but with the Road Wife program taking up so much of your life, you needed a hobby you could do on your own. Something that you could use to escape and channel your frustrations when reading a book or binge-watching a TV series wasn’t enough. It gave you a chance to think through the thoughts that consumed your mind. And if your thoughts still consumed you, the run often left you too damn tired to care. It had become a habit for you to run during the team’s homesteads when time allowed. 

Your morning runs took you down by the waterfront, and past Amalie Arena, before you would cycle back towards your apartment. It was the same route you took every time. The familiarity of the route made it easy for you to dissociate from the world around you and get lost in the music in your ears or the chaotic thoughts in your mind. And at the end of your route was the coffee shop at the corner of your street and, with it, your favourite cup of coffee. 

It warmed your hands as you cradled it on your way out the door, your headphones still in and your head down. Total isolation from the people and the world around you. It was something that had become second nature to you at home in Tampa. Anything you did outside of work you did alone, and you had grown used to that - but your friends still tried to make their efforts with texts and calls that you ignored. But they didn't let you ignore them now as you passed them in the street unknowingly. 

A soft, feminine touch tugged you back from your stride. Your coffee dropped to the pavement as your hand shot up to push your headphones back to hang around your neck. You had half the mind to scream as you turned on your heels, but your throat was weak and quickly overcome with relief as your widened eyes fell on two familiar faces; Miranda and Chantelle. 

The two of them had been some of your closest friends, but seeing them only brought a moment of relief. Your heart continued to hammer in your chest, your mind almost wishing it was someone else trying to drag you off. You had been avoiding your friends since January when the condensed season had begun. When you had signed your life away and had far too many secrets to have to hide from them. But, to them, it was clear how much had changed since you started your career with the team. Especially since it had been a homestead.

You had been home long enough to attend all your appointments - your preparations for the next road trip. First, you had gotten a facial on your first day back, and it left your skin glowing. Then, your hair and nails were styled to your liking, just as they always were during a homestead. The rest of your contractual pampering would be a little harder to see for them, but it was not how they were used to seeing you. And worst of all, the marks left by Ross’ mouth were still on your skin. You just had to hope that the sway of your ponytail and the bulkiness of your headphones would cover them enough. 

“I told you it was her,” Miranda’s know-it-all attitude consumed her words as she withdrew her hand from your arm, the panic in your features softening as you felt the remnants of your coffee dripping down the front of your calf and into the soft shell of your sneakers. 

“Since when do you run?” Chantelle piped up, still not quite convinced as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I ah-” you could feel the sweat dripping down the back of your neck, “It’s just been a month.” You wanted a way out of this conversation, quickly, desperately, especially when you felt Miranda’s judgmental - analytical stare drag up and down the length of your body from head to foot. 

“You look,” she cast a glance at Chantelle, “different.” 

“Must be all the running,” you shrugged, a small smile toying at the corner of your lips. Yeah, you thought sarcastically to yourself, your eyes almost rolling. It was the running and not the getting fucked on a regular. It wasn’t the fact that the wives and girlfriends of the Tampa Bay Lightning players had all but adopted you as their own personal Barbie to dress up and give makeovers to as they saw fit just to please their husbands. 

“Take a break from your running and we’ll get you another coffee,” Miranda insisted, and your eyes dropped to the coffee that stained the ground. You were going to regret not having it later.

“Oh no, I can’t,” you shook your head, your hand raising to your headphones, ready to place them over your ears again, “I work tonight, and Sydnee is coming.” 

“Where’s our invite?” Chantelle’s words were almost playful - almost. You knew her too well to know that she was very much serious. 

“We’ll have to arrange something,” you said, smiling.

It was a false pleasantry you gave them, as you knew all too well that you would screen any text message they sent you and would later send them a quick, sorry, work’s been busy text. And it wouldn’t be a lie. You would be busy. Too busy even for Sydnee, who was your best friend, but they wouldn’t believe you. Yet, you maintained your friendly facade and ignored the drama that would inevitably come. 

“Start a group chat. Invite Rebecca and Sydnee too. You guys can go to the game, and we can all go out for drinks after,” you said. Then, you pulled out your phone from your pocket to check the time. You looked at it for only a moment. The big digital numbers, no matter the actual time, were your freedom. “I’m going to be late. I have to go.” 

You didn’t give them a chance to say as much as a goodbye before your tired legs fell into stride. You hadn’t meant to run again after you had gotten your coffee. But with it on the ground attracting wasps, there was nothing holding you back. Tugging your headphones up over your ears, you let the music on your playlist become the soundtrack of your life as you rushed away from the coffee shop and made your trip home. 

Once you crossed the threshold of your apartment door, your routine was simple. Undress. Put the clothes in the hamper. Shower. Dry off. Dress. Blow-dry your hair. Finally, it came to your makeup. So much more makeup than you ever dreamed of having to put on. Not that you ever did your makeup too heavily for work. You had a certain look you liked to achieve, something polished and professional. But being professional meant hiding every single mark left on your body, and that took concealer, color corrector, foundation and setting powder. You kept it in an outrageous supply, so much so that even a drag queen would be jealous. Even then, you could only hope that it would last all night. 

You were patting setting powder over the angles of your neck when you heard the front door. It’s careful open and shut left air caught in your throat as you give yourself one last look over in the bathroom mirror. You had covered up the marks. Your makeup was something you had gotten much better with since the first time Ross had marked up your neck. And you were more prepared. Fully dressed, and your hair was done; You were ready for lunch. You were ready to face Sydnee. 

Pushing up from where you had propped yourself up on the bathroom sink, you took in a deep breath, as if to breathe in the confidence you needed before moving out into the living room. Sydnee had always been one to let herself in. Not that you minded, you were practically sisters after all. But it left you with a sense of panic as your eyes darted from your couch to your favorite reading chair before scanning over the kitchen for anything that might be out of place - including the sweatshirt of Tony’s you knew was somewhere hiding in your place after returning from your road trip to Dallas. You had meant to give it back, but your appointment with Ross left that sweater to travel home with you. And it thankfully was somewhere out of sight. 

If Sydnee found it, you wouldn’t know how to answer the questions it would provoke. 

And with it hidden, tucked away, and nothing else incriminating in sight, you smiled and let your eyes fall on your best friend. In contrast to how you dressed for work, Sydnee dressed for the game as any fan would be. With her mousy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, her bangs framed her soft brown eyes. And even while pulled back, the ends of her hair kissed the tops of her shoulders with every stride, brushing over the shoulder patches of her bright blue Lightning jersey. She had paired the fan staple with a white turtle-neck sweater, black jeans, and Chelsea boots. She looked very much the part of a hockey fan, but she had been her entire life. But she hadn’t always been loyal to the Bolts. Born in Chicago, having moved to Tampa for university, she was a Blackhawks fan first. And in ways she still was as she had yet to fully commit to the Bolts as the nameplate on the back of her jersey was still blank. She only really wore it for you. 

“We really need to get a name stitched onto the back of that jersey,” you greeted her with a grin, your arms crossing over your chest as you stood in the doorway. You tilted your head to the side, contemplating just which one player you thought she would like the best. “Point, maybe? I think you’d like him.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, saying your name as she put her bag down on your armchair. “You know I’m loyal to my boys.”

You watched as she turned in place. Your lips parted to challenge her with the talent the Bolts had developed over the years, only for words to fail leaving your lips. In her arms, Sydnee held a beautiful bouquet. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your words laced with your smile as you reached out to accept the bouquet with both hands.

“Good,” Sydnee grinned, “because I didn’t. They aren’t from me. They were outside the door when I walked up.” 

“Is there a card?” You asked with a raised brow. You knew full well that she would have been nosy enough to look. Yet, she put on the act of looking for the card, anyway. 

“Nothing looks like you have a secret admirer,” she grinned as she handed them off to you, “which seems odd because if you have enough time for boys, you should have enough time for me.” 

“Believe me, I don’t have time for boys,” you sighed, reaching out to take them from her hold. The cellophane crinkled under the pressure of your touch as you looked at an empty vase on your kitchen counter. Before the road trip, a bouquet of colorful tulips brightened up your kitchen. And the homestead before that, daisies. Now, the sunflowers would take their place. But you never knew who had sent them. There was never a card. 

“Maybe they delivered it to the wrong address,” you thought out loud and moved into the kitchen. To the vase that you hoped Sydnee hadn’t noticed was waiting for the fresh bouquet. And if she did, you didn’t give her time to say anything, as you were quick to change the subject. “So, game plan. Late lunch here, at the arena before four. You'll shadow me a bit until the fills up and then you will go off and enjoy the game. How’s that sound?”

Sydnee had no complaints. Together, you ate the lunch you had prepared while the two of you caught up on the simplicities of life. You guided the conversation when you had to, giving what little you could offer about the big changes in your life since starting your new job with the Lightning organization. You talked about your travel, and the beautiful cities you had gotten to experience because of them, but you didn’t speak of the players or go into any detail about what you actually did for them. When that conversation started, you deflected to what was going on here in your absence. Which was easy to do when you felt so far removed from your old life that you didn’t know what was going on in your own circle anymore. You asked about her studies as she presumed animal sciences at the university, and you asked about her love life which you had to pretend was much more exciting than your own. Then, when lunch was done and cleaned up after and you were getting into your car to drive down to the arena, the conversation fell on petty gossip to kill the time. 

You were thankful for that. 

It kept your body calm and thoughts distracted from any potential anxiety as you rolled onto the lot and pulled on your lanyard that identified you as staff. Then, you reached into the glove box, grabbed Sydnee’s pass that would allow her to be glued at your hip until game time, and handed it off to her. 

“You ready to work?” you asked her, your voice playful to hide your own nerves. 

“I’m ready to see what keeps you so busy,” Sydnee’s grin was wide as she hung the lanyard around her neck and stepped out of the car. 

The moment your heels hit the pavement and you grabbed your work bag from the bag seat you were straight to work. Sydnee became your shadow as you fell into your routine that started with setting up at the entrance and waiting for the players to arrive. They began to trickle in at first, dressed in their game day best, and offering a casual wave as they passed but only after you had taken their picture. A select few would end up on one of the many social media pages. And every moment of it left Sydnee starstruck as she stood beside you with her jaw noticeably slacked. 

One by one the entire roaster crossed your path. From Stamkos and Hedman to Sergachev and Kucherov, they all offered a little glimmer into their pregame personalities as well. So it wasn’t a surprise to you when you were met by Andrei’s focus that was so easily mistaken by anyone else as coldness, or Killorn’s goofier-than-normal entrance when he noticed he had a bit more of an audience. What did surprise you, however, was that Cirelli and Colton arrived together. 

The sight of them walking side by side, both wearing varying shades of blue, left your head cocked to the side and a single eyebrow raised.  You knew better than anyone the complexity of their relationship. Just weeks ago, Tony started a fight with Ross because of you. Back in Dallas, they had practically shared you. Now, they carpooled? It left you perplexed as you snapped their picture, and met their eyes as they passed. 

Cirelli offered you a friendly hello, mindful of your friend, who stood beside you in awe. And Ross pulled the sunglasses from his face and offered a wink and a nod, offering a silent greeting as he passed. 

The two of them left a knot knotted in your stomach as you shoved your camera into your bag. They were the last to arrive, and that meant you needed to be on the move to prepare for warmups. But first, you would need to get Sydnee to her seat. 

“Alright, we’re done here,” you assured her with a smile, your lips parting to offer what would happen next. But the excitement of what she had just experienced had Sydnee cut in. 

“I didn’t realize you worked so closely with the players.” Her words were those of awe. 

“And that’s only a fraction of it all,” you smiled. She would never truly know the extent of the work you did. She would never know at what level you knew every single player of the Tampa Bay Lightning. “Let me set you up in your seat, make sure you have a drink in your hand all night, and then I’m going to have to get back to work.”

The busy buzz of the surrounding arena was consuming as you took Sydnee to her seats in the Chase Club. You left her there with the promise of meeting back at your car after the game. Then, you fell back into your usual routine. 

You moved through Amalie with ease, your head down and eyes on your screen as you monitored the social media channels and decided just which photos you posted on each platform. And just when someone thought you were in the way, you weren’t as you moved to the side or out of the way without even having to look up or be told to. You knew every shortcut, every detour. Where you were allowed to be and when you had to be there. It was rare that you had a moment to yourself during the game, but tonight you did. 

You found yourself in the corridors between the locker rooms with a little extra time between warmups and game time, so you pulled out your laptop and set up on the table. Your back was to the hallway as you worked, your headphones in as focused on the bright glow of the screen. You paid no mind to the people behind you as they passed, knowing you wouldn’t be in the way of their work as you did your own. And you were extra cautious as you heard the clamour of players behind you. The last thing you wanted was to be in their way and get caught by a stick or stepped on with the full weight of a hockey player on a skate blade. 

Standing with your hips pressed to the edge of the table, as out of the way as you could be, but it wasn’t enough. Somehow, you were still in someone’s way - or rather caught someone’s eye as you stood there dressed in your pencil shirt and tucked-in white blouse. So much so that they went out of the way to touch you - to smack your ass with the firm impact of your hand unleashing a shrill yelp from the depths of your throat and leaving the sting of their touch behind. 

Your hands shot out to brace yourself against the table, your head hanging low on your shoulders to hide the redness of embarrassment that overtook your features behind a curtain of hair. Whoever had done that should have known better. Back home in Tampa, you were off-limits. And the only two brave enough to challenge that? Ross and Tony. But not even they would have put our job in jeopardy like that. 

Turning in place, you had intended to come face to face with the player who had acted so carelessly, so stupidly. You had intended to give them a piece of your mind. But the Bolts’ electric blue jersey did not meet your gaze. No, all you saw was the Florida Panthers’ white and red away jersey. And all you heard was laughter. 

It sent your stomach sinking, and your lips fell into a firm line as you scowled. They must have recognized you from your many trips down to Sunrise, Florida, and someone had to have known that you did a lot more than work for their media team. It wasn’t a mystery that was hard to solve. Not once you had found the courage to look up and meet the playful gaze of ex-lightning player Carter Verhaeghe. 

He had just won the cup with the team last year and was an off-season acquisition by the Panthers. Carter would have known the first wife. He would be very familiar with the Road Wife program. And with the connections, and the friends, he still had on the Tampa Bay roster, it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew exactly who you were and what your role was with the team. 

You swallowed hard as you watched as Carter winked at you, his hand free of his glove and shaking off the sting of the impact against your ass. All too guilty for him to even try to deny, and it sent the players in his company, Jonathan Huberdeau and McKenzie Weager, into laughter. 

They were all too comfortable in your arena. Too confident. And you wanted to say something, you really did. But you didn’t have to. 

“Come on, man. Show a little respect, my girl’s trying to work here,” hearing the all too familiar voice had you turning around, your jaw slacked as your eyes fell on Ross. 

You didn’t know why he had been there, dressed fully in his equipment and towering over you as he stood taller on his skates. Something had sent him out into the hallway, catching the scene as it had unfolded in front of him - and he didn’t like it. It was clear from the scowl that consumed his features, and the strength that was laced into his words. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought Ross was going to hit Carter - but they were friends once, having played for Syracuse together in the AHL. They were going to be civil, right?

Your stomach was up in your throat as Carter turned around, stopping at the center of the hallways to laugh back in your direction. “She’s your girl, huh, Colton?”

Ross’s jaw tensed as he came to stand beside you, his hand stroking down the breadth of your back. His touch had you tensing in return. Your thighs pressed firm together, and you turned your head to look up at him so quickly it sent your hair cascading down your back - giving Carter the very view Ross wanted him to see. As you took in your deep nervous breath, the collar of your shirt shifted and the marks he had left, that your shirt had covered so well you hadn’t thought to conceal them, became clear enough for the visiting players to see. 

Then Ross spoke again, his words carrying that same confidence as before. “That’s right.”

“Well, when we get done with this game tonight,” Carter had a hint of laughter in his voice, one that was shared with Huberdeau and Weeger who lingered as his back, “send your girl over to the hotel for a little overtime.”

Carter’s words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of them heavy on your chest as the symphony of laughs from the Florida Panthers players faded away. They disappeared down the corridor, wandering off to their visitor’s locker room, leaving you and Ross alone in the hallway. 

A careful step to the side and you were retreating to your work. You kept your head down to hide the embarrassment that you had yet to rid from your face - to hide the tears that burned in your eyes and threatened to spill. 

It wasn’t how you carried yourself at work. You had always done your best to carry yourself with confidence, professionalism and a smile, and Ross noticed. 

“Hey,” he said. 

It was just enough to catch your attention as he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. His gentle touch guided you around the table and into the doorway of one of the equipment rooms during a moment of calm between warmups and game time. There he reached up, taking your chin between his finger and thumb and guided your gaze up. 

Ross’ jaw was still tense, but his eyes had softened for you. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you assured him, your words clipped and uneven. 

Your ass still stung from the impact of the unexpected slap, but that you could live with. It was what Carter said that left you feeling dirty. Disgusted. You wanted nothing but to fade away, to call it a night and just go home - but you couldn’t shy away from your responsibilities. You couldn’t shy away from the job they originally hired you to do because you had put yourself in the position for something like this to happen. 

As long as you held the mantle as the team’s wife, being sexualized was your reality. And it would not just be by the team you worked for, but by any team who knew you existed. It had happened when Seguin had cornered you in the press-box, and again now with Carter. You didn’t like it, but it came with the job. You would just have to deal with it. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he told you, punctuating his words with your name. “I’ll make this all up to you, okay?”

“Ross,” you said his name as your shoulders rocked with a heavy sigh, “this wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Ross sighed, his thumb leaving your chin to stroke over the soft lobe of your lower lip. 

You took in a sharp inhale.

“But Carter, he and I, we’re friends,” he sighed, his gaze dropping for a moment as his head shook, “he’s a good guy, really. I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s just trying to get under our skin. I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but if I can try to make up for what he did because of us, I’m going to.”

You cocked your head, your lips moving against the pad of his thumb as you spoke. “You want to make it up to me?”

“I will make it up to you,” his words were a promise. 

“Then go win this game for me.” Your words had once again found a firm confidence as your stare had held Ross’ gaze. 

He was smiling now. 

You could see it without having to look at his bright blue eyes. His thumb stroked over your lip, his hand stroking over the angle of your jawline. For a moment, Ross’ careful touch left you thinking he might kiss you there in the doorway. And a part of you wanted him to, but he only cradled your face in his hands, his fingers so close to tangling in your hair, as he made his promise; “I’m going to do my goddamn best to get that done for you, sweetheart.” 

The corridor became flooded with blue as the team left the locker room in full gear. They were loud as they hyped themselves up for the game. The chaos had Ross giving you an apologetic look, his head cocking to the side, giving you a silent apology before you gave him a playful shove to go join the rest of his team. His hands slipped away from you like a ribbon, his own holler piercing the air as he fell into line. It was game time. 

Gathering your things into your bag, you carried it with you through the maze that was Amalie before coming to rest on your stool along the edge of the rink. You sat perched there with your camera in your lap and your phone ready to tweet out every development in the game. And while Sydnee was in sight, a drink in one hand as she waved to you in great excitement with the other, not even the presence of your best friend could rid you of the nerves that consumed you. This game meant more to you now than it should. The rivalry between the Lightning and the Panthers was one of the greatest in the league, but tonight the game surpassed the Battle of Florida. A loss for Florida would be a personal victory. One that you hoped would have Carter regretting how he treated you and would have him second-guessing his choice if he even thought about trying it again. 

But beating the Panthers was never an easy feat. Not even while at Amalie. Every game was hard fought, right down to the last seconds, and this game wouldn’t be an exception. At only three minutes and twenty-eight seconds into the first period, Carter Verhaeghe would open the scoring. It was his twelfth of the season and assisted by their Captain Alexander Barkov. The goal had sent the crowd of 3,800 to silence. But that only made Carter’s celebration easier to hear as he jumped into the boards right in front of you. He met your eyes, his smile wide as he celebrated with his linemates Barkov and Marchment and defencemen, Weegar and Ekblad. 

Their celebration left you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you tweeted out the game update. And at centre ice, the puck dropped and play continued. While you felt on the verge of vomiting, you found a semblance of peace less than forty seconds of play later when Yanni Gourde slipped the puck past Bobrovsky with assists from Goodrow and Coleman.

The surrounding cheers made it hard for you to keep things professional. You wanted to hop up from your seat and cheer along with the crowd. Instead, you snapped your pictures and picked out for favorite for the feed as you announced the game-tying goal. The first period would end in that stalemate after the Lightning would kill off a cross-checking penalty taken by Barclay Goodrow against Aaron Ekblad. And while it was the first penalty of the game, it would not be the last as eight minutes later Hornqvist went to the box for his slashing Hedman. No one would be successful in their power play. 

Through the second period, it would be a back-and-forth game. Which was not limited to the play on the ice, but included the frequent trips to the penalty box. Ekblad would take a penalty for slashing against Gourde, Lomberg for hooking against Rutta, and Hedman would take a penalty for holding Alex Wennberg. Each power play unit would kill the penalty before another puck would reach the back of the net. 

It would come after a strong break into the zone by Cernak. With great patience, he had tried to get the puck to Point, only for it to deflect off Weegar. But it had put it in the perfect position for Killorn to sink it into the back of the net. 

But the 2-1 goal lead over the Panthers would be short-lived. It was with Coleman sitting in the penalty box for tripping Keith Yandle, that Forsling, with assists from Wennberg and Vatrano, would tie the game 2-2. 

They would start the third period the same way, tied and so evenly matched it made your stomach sick. You desperately wanted the lead. For the boys to score so many goals, Florida wouldn’t have the chance of a comeback. And it didn’t seem like it was too much to ask at the five-minute mark when the fourth line took to the ice. 

Colton, Joseph and Maroon were an exciting combination and the go-to bottom line for Jon Cooper. Maroon, with his strength and size, contrasted the speed that Colton and Joseph had on the ice. And while many didn’t think it was a combination that would work, you watched it succeed right in front of you. Pat dumped the puck in deep with Mathieu and Ross skating in after it. Mathieu would get stuck in the corner, but Ross would come to recover the puck behind the net. His wrap-around attempt left you holding your breath, the puck deflecting off the goaltender’s pads before meeting Mathieu’s stick and the back of the net. 

The Lightning would hold a 3-2 lead in the third until Barclay Goodrow would find himself in the box for high-sticking Mason Marchment. A goal from Hornqvist would shorten his time in the box, bringing the game to yet another tie. 3-3. 

Your stomach could only sink further as tensions continued to rise between the players, plays became careless, and penalties continued to be called. First came a high-sticking call against Palat. Then, the same against Panther’s defenceman Aaron Ekblad as he caught Stamkos up high. And while the Bolts had killed off their penalty, the Panthers would not do the same. 

Johnson, with some help from Gourde and Cirelli, would give the Lightning a 4-3 lead with 11 minutes remaining in the period. 

Tension only rose further in those dying minutes. A series of penalties began at 11:29 as Keith Yandle got a little rough with Ross, who did nothing to retaliate but give him one of his cheeky grins and a bit of a laugh, knowing it would get under his skin more than throwing a hit. 

Yandle had only been out of the box 10 seconds when the next set of penalties was called. The officials awarded two to Weeger for slashing and roughing Palat. And Palat would receive a roughing penalty of his own, along with a misconduct that would have him sitting out the rest of the game. 

The penalties didn’t stop there. One last penalty came with a mere 5 minutes remaining in the game. The fourth line was on to defend, to protect the lead they had and kill time faced off against the Panthers' second line: Huberdeau, Bennett and Duclair. You didn’t know what triggered it, if someone had said something in the face-off circle or if Ross was just feeling extra feisty, but he spent 2 minutes in the penalty box for roughing against Jonathan Huberdeau. 

Every second he spent in the box had you watching the clock more than you were watching the game. But the penalty kill unit did their job and forced the Panthers to pull Bobrovsky. In those dying seconds, Brayden would secure the victory with one last goal that would end the game 5-3. 

The victory left you with a bit of a hop in your step as you fell into your post-game routine of preparing for interviews. You couldn’t wait until things could go back to normal when the reporters could all return to the locker room for the post-game. But until then, you set up the table and the computer that each reporter would check in from one place or the other. Then you had to retrieve each player. First on your list was the second star of the game, Killorn. 

Leaving the room they had set aside for interviews, you made the short walk to the locker room that was full of life after the win. The boys sat half-dressed, some still in gear, some already dressed in their suits for the drive home. Some showered, some not, and all in one conversation or another, but not a single one of them, was Alex Killorn. 

“Cap,” you spoke, your voice raised slightly to be heard over the locker room noise. 

Stamkos stood in front of his stall, a white towel fastened around his waist while he ran another over his wet blonde hair. When he heard you, he shot you a crooked smirk, his head tilting in a casual nod as he acknowledged you. 

“Killer in the showers?”

“Wasn’t in there when I was on my way out,” he said, “check with Jason, I think he was having some issues with his blades-” 

You were on the move before Stamkos could finish his sentence. Time was of the essence, and the quicker you got these interviews done, the sooner you could meet up with Sydnee and go home. Your heels clicked against the floor as you moved through the corridors. They were much more calm now that the game was over, making it much easier to go from point A to point B. But your efficiency didn’t make it any easier to find Alex. He wasn’t in the equipment room, and it left your brows knitting as you offered a soft apology to Jason on your way out. 

“Alright Alex, where are you?” you sighed, tapping your foot as you looked up and down the corridor, “medical, maybe?” you spoke to yourself as you slipped down the hall. 

When you arrived, the lights were on, but the staff was nowhere to be seen. Which meant the same for Alex. Letting out a frustrated huff, you were ready to give up. To move on to the next name on your list and come back to Alex later, but then you saw a pair of shadows move behind the cover of one curtain that gave the players and medical staff privacy on a busy night. 

“So this is where you have been hiding from me,” you grinned, “media needs you when you’ve wrapped up in here, Alex.”

You received no response. Not from Alex, and not from a trainer or doctor. Silence hung in the air and the shadows stilled, as if to hope you would move along without a response. You stood there, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that never came, and it didn’t sit right with you. Something was off. 

“Alex?” you said his name slowly as you stepped forward, your hand drawing back the curtain carefully. 

The rings of the curtain rattled along their support, sending your heart pounding in your chest as the figures became more than shadows in front of your eyes. On the table wasn’t Alex, but another familiar face. Pat sat with his wet hair slicked back, his white dress shirt undone and hanging off his slouched shoulders. But it wasn’t because he was being examined. They would have completed that as soon as he had come off the ice, and you would have remembered him being hurt out on the ice. And the person who stood between his legs, her hands resting on the tops of his strong thighs, was not one of the staff. No, you had never seen her before. 

You would have remembered someone like her. She stood no taller than 5 foot 5, even while wearing the heels she wore that towered higher than anything you would have thought practical to wear. And she was pretty. Memorably so with her long brunette hair that hung down her back in thick waves save for her face-framing bangs that left her green eyes near electric as they met your dear-in-the-headlights stare. 

They hadn’t wanted to be found, the much was clear. But that fact alone didn’t send the petite woman retreating. No, she stayed there right between Pat’s thighs as if she had been there countless times before. And if that wasn’t hinted enough to know just exactly who she was, Pat saying her name left your blood running cold. “Ella, I think it’s time for you to go.” Your chest felt tight as you struggled to take a single breath, and the world around you suddenly felt distant. This was their first wife? The woman you knew so little and yet so much about. She had dishonoured the team, and yet, here she was. You scowled. The audacity she had - and he! What was Pat thinking? The possibilities left your head spinning. It left you uneasy on your feet as you shuffled back, retreating slowly, cautiously as if she were a panther ready to pounce as you stuttered out, “Have you seen Killorn?” 

“He’s not in here,” Ella answered for Pat, her voice sweet, but it hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard. 

Your eyes flicked over to Ella, narrowing more than you intended, and you offered her nothing more than that. Not a thank you. Not a question as to what she was doing there. Just a glare. Then, you were stepping out the door. 

Behind you, you heard a clamour, but you didn’t look back. Not even as Pat called out your name, as he trailed after you. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of some half-assed explanation. You had a pretty good idea of what was happening there before you interrupted them. Nothing Pat said was going to change your mind. Yet he still called after you as you moved through the corridor, your head down to hide the shock that still consumed your face. 

The shock that was knocked straight off your features when you collided with the thick body of another. Looking up, relief consumed you at the sight of Alex. 

“You were looking for me?” He smiled down at you as his hands reached out to steady you in place. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, your voice unsteady, “media’s waiting on you.”

Nodding towards the makeshift media room, you managed a smile. One that you would wear throughout the interviews that followed, and that hid the uneasiness in your stomach. No matter what you did, you couldn’t rid yourself of it. Yet, you made it through to the end of the night, but there was one thing standing in the way of you getting to go home in peace. 

Pat lingered long after players started going home. You didn’t have to see him to know it. It was something you could feel. His eyes were on your back as he waited for the opportune moment to catch you alone. But you never gave it to him. You walked to and from the interviews with each player on your list. And even as your shift was ending, and all you had to do was walk to your car, you wouldn’t make it alone. 

“Tony, hey!” You smiled as you sought out Tony, one of the last lingering players in the locker room, “you on your way out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his dark, wet curls out of his face as he stood up from his seat. 

“Walk me to my car?” 

You didn’t need to ask him twice. Tony would have done anything you asked him to at that moment and you would be forever grateful for that. 

Gathering your bag, you held it close as the two of you walked past Pat with nothing more than a quick “Have a good night” between teammates. Whatever it was Pat wanted to say, he couldn’t say it in front of his teammates. And while you didn’t hear it tonight, the explanation you didn’t want to hear would only come in time. 

Walking out the doors of Amalie and into the night air should have brought you relief. The chilly night air, and the touch of Tony’s large, warm hand against your back, should have been enough to bring you back to your usual calm composure. But the bright taillights of the Panther’s bus still flooded the parking lot with its glow as their trainers loaded the bus with gear. Their players loitered in the night, some on the bus, others lingering by the door. With them, waited a figure you wouldn’t forget. 

Ella. 

You almost groaned at the sight of her. 

She worked for the Florida Panthers, that much was clear. At what capacity? You just happened to be an expert in the matter. To everyone else, she would look like a member of their media team. But Ella was just like you. And while she had just a little more experience, she wasn’t as good at hiding it. Her flirtations were obvious and obnoxious even as she stood in the parking lot of Amalie. She wanted you to see her, for the players to see her smiling and happy. She wanted to draw in anyone’s attention, and while you were doing your best not to stare, you were, and she saw it. 

Smiling widely, she excused herself from her team and sauntered across the parking lot to you. 

For a moment, you considered dropping your gaze and making a run for your car. But Tony’s touch still lingered on your back, and she was right in your path. Her confidence let you in a panic, your feet becoming still and your hand dropping from your purse to clutch at Tony’s wrist at your side. Silently begging him not to leave you alone with her. 

“You must be the new me,” Ella spoke, her tone all too friendly, “about earlier-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you were quick to silence her. You didn’t care about what she had to say. Even if a part of you was curious as to why she was with Pat after the game, and the vision of them was all too clear in your mind. You weren’t going to let her offer any excuses for sneaking around with your team. The team that had once been hers. 

“I know what you did while you were here. I know why you weren’t asked back this year.” You said, your hand clutched at Tony a little tighter. 

“Do you?” her manicured brow quirked up on her forehead, a sense of amusement in her tone. 

“Seguin-” 

She didn’t let you get out a full sentence before she cut you off with laughter. It drew the attention of the Florida players who lingered by the door of the bus. It had Ross who lingered in the parking lot by Tony’s car, taking a step forward as if he were prepared to intervene. And it even had Sydnee staring from where she stood, leaning back against the trunk of your car, as she waited for you. 

They stared at her, and in turn, they stared at you, but Ella’s eyes had flicked over to Tony, who still stood right by your side. His face hardened as he bit his own tongue to keep himself from saying a single word. At the sight of him, her low chuckle persisted, her head shaking slowly as her eyes found yours once more. 

“You think you’re better than me,” she spoke each word with a coy smile on her lips, “but we’re more alike than you realize. You’ll see that soon enough.” 

Her words sent your stomach sinking as she stepped back and moved for the bus that would take the Panthers to the airport or to the hotel. Where it went, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. Your mind was too consumed by what Ella had said to even consider it. 

You refused to think you were anything like her. That you would do anything like she had done. The accusation alone left your skin hot and your stomach churning on the verge of illness. You needed to get home. 

Pulling away from Tony’s side, you let your eyes drop to the ground as you fumbled with your bag. “Thank you for walking me out to my car,” you offered him the sincerest thank you that you could muster. But it didn’t hide how your voice broke, or the stiffness in your stride as you left him to stand in the low and approached Sydnee, who waited for you. 

“What was that all about?” Sydnee greeted you from where she stood leaning up against the back of your car. “It’s nothing,” the lie tasted sour in your mouth as you moved to the driver’s side of the car. You could only hope with the entire car between you she couldn’t see how your mind struggled to throw some bullshit answer together. “Rivalries run deep, and she’s me. I mean, she does what I do.” 

You were rambling. Struggling to find just the right words to say and string them together, all while on the verge of throwing up.  

The night couldn’t have been more unlike what you had planned for Sydnee. But, of course, the Florida Panthers and their own Road Wife had to complicate things. They left you with too many questions and too many secrets as you had to tip-toe through your conversations with Sydnee or risk letting something slip. Something that could put your entire career and reputation in jeopardy. 

You fumbled with your keys in your purse, the clamour of them hitting one thing and then the next heard in the night air as you drew them out. But then you fumbled with them, trying to find your car key only for them to end up slipping to the ground in the sharp sound of metal hitting metal hitting concrete. 

Lips parted in a silent sigh of frustration. You wanted to scream, to groan, to do anything to express the toll the night took on you. But you couldn’t. You had to remain calm. Cool. Collected. You couldn’t let on to Sydnee that there was more going on here than what she believed there to be. So you bit your lip and fought back your tears as you knelt down to the ground and retrieved your keys. 

It was only then you realized that the car parked beside you had yet to leave and left you glancing back over your shoulder at the players that remained.

It felt as if it were February again. The sight of Ross standing beside the car with the collar of his dress shirt left open and his hands shoved in his tight pant pockets. But it wasn’t Mathieu who stood with him. This time, Tony, with his mess of dark curls and concerned stare, lingered on you as he tossed his suit jacket into the back seat. 

The two of them could have just gotten in the car and left. You would have almost preferred it if they did, but they weren’t leaving until both you and the Panther’s bus had cleared the lot. 

You offered them both a reassuring smile, and Tony matched it with his own. But Ross, he was much shameless even while in the company of your friend. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Hearing his words had you ready to crumble. You craved to run to him, to fall so effortlessly into his arms and be held by him. But there was no loss of your composure with your best friend ignoring her place in the passenger seat. Instead, she had draped herself over the door, her smile playful as her brow raised. She was all too interested in your encounter to concede. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assured Ross.

Giving him and Tony one last look, you leaned down to get in the car, but you froze when your friend still refused to get into the car. Instead, she spoke loud enough for both the boys to hear, “Oh, so that’s why you wouldn’t tell me who sent you the flowers.”

“You sent her flowers?” Tony started, the boys falling into a soft symphony of confusion as you stood still, your back to them as your face fell. 

“No, that wasn’t me,” was Ross’ rushed response, and with it you could feel both of their eyes on your back. 

If one of them hadn’t sent you the flowers, then who had? Your fingers curled around the door of your car, the cool alloy grounding you as you gave them both one last perplexed look. Almost as if to say: Are you sure it wasn’t one of you? Then you spoke, “Thanks for waiting on me, guys. Have a good night.” 

“Good night, sweetheart,” Ross’ words were the last you heard, his charming sweetheart punctuated by the closing of your door. 

You had to bite your lip to hide the smile that threatened to blossom over your features. Taking the steering wheel in your hands, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against them. That had to be enough to hide it.

Of course. You had to run into the ex-road wife and Ross had to be so endearing while Sydnee was there. And she wasn’t going to let you brush it off like nothing had happened. “Sweetheart, huh?”

Biting your lip, you sat up in your seat, turning as you reached back for your seatbelt to hide your smile. But there was no hiding it from Sydnee as you looked at her, almost laughing as you answered her. “Yeah, well, Colton is a bit of a flirt.”

“And does it work?”

“Does what work?” you arched a brow up at her as you started up the ignition and began the drive home through the congested, post-game traffic. 

“The flirting.”

You went silent. Your teeth biting your lip a little harder. The flirting always worked, but you couldn’t tell her that. “Nope,” Your lie was feeble as your foot eased on the brake at a red light. The red glow illuminated the inside of the car and your features as you had hoped the darkness between streetlights would hide your telltale signs of lying to her. 

“So he’s not the one who gave you all those hickeys on your neck?”

Sydnee was smiling. You didn’t need to look at her to know that. Then you felt her finger on the collar of your blouse, tugging it away from your neck. Your eyes flashed up to your rearview mirror. Adjusting it casually, you gave yourself a view of your neck where the friction of the blouse against your skin had rubbed the makeup away. It left the marks Ross had left on your skin all too clear. 

You could have told her it wasn’t Ross. That it was literally anyone else, but she had seen the flirting that he was never shy about, no matter where you were or who was there with you. Telling her the truth would be too easy, and ease your mind of the many secrets you were forced to carry with you because of your contract - but Ross, he didn’t have a contract. There was nothing there for you to breach.

“Okay,” you sighed, “maybe it works sometimes.” 

“I knew it!” You could hear her giddy excitement in her shriek. “No wonder the two of you were trying to play it so coy about the flowers.”

You almost laughed. If there was one thing Ross wasn’t, it was coy - and you believed him when he said he hadn’t been the one to send you the flowers. That was all still a mystery to you, but for convenience's sake, Sydnee just needed to believe he was the one sending them to you. 

“It’s not exactly something we can advertise,” you told her slowly, choosing your words carefully. “Besides, it’s not serious.” 

And with your contracts in place, any relationship you had with anyone could never be. It would just be too complicated - as if trying to conceal it all from your best friend wasn’t bad enough you had resorted to telling her fractions of the truth just so she wouldn’t catch you in a lie. Sighing, you would indulge her in the little things that came with Ross’ affection. You knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. And at the end of the night, there would be nothing more for her to discover or tell. Spending the day with her had been a harsh reminder of the severity of your situation. A reminder of just how hard it was to find a work-life balance when you were the Tampa Bay Lightning’s road wife.